Woah, LOOOOOOOOOOONG CHAPTER!

And only 2 reviews guys? Tut tut…

I'm 15! And a very big thank you to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday! It was very happy! As an extra special treat, I'm updating every story, and putting a new one up! All in the same night! Phew! Too many ! marks!

Right, onto review replies now.

Faerlain.

Lindele – Yup, the twins and Leggy…Wait and see! Thanks for reviewing.

Deana – Glad you liked it and thanks for reviewing.

Chapter 13: Why does it always rain on me…?

"Urgh, my head is pounding."

"Just try not to think about it Cel."

"But it hurts! How can I not think about my head hurting when I use my head to think about other things! Did that make any sense?"

"No, not really." Legolas grinned at his sister. "Look, get that bandage finished, then we'll take a quick break. Ok?"

The young Princess nodded and carried on wrapping a makeshift bandage around a wound in an Elf's' leg. She smiled reassuringly at him, then washed her hands off in a bowl of water.

"Come on then." Legolas draped his arm round her shoulders, and lead her off to a small grove of trees.

They sat beneath the branches, relaxing for the moment. Celeblaith sighed and nestled closer to her brother. Legolas smiled and held her tightly against him. "I'm really proud of you Cel," he murmured.

"Eh?"

"The way you're coping with all of this. You shouldn't be here really, you know that. You're too young."

"Oh stop it, you starting to sound too much like Adar." She grinned up at him. "Well I'm proud of you too."

"Why?"

"You're working literally on your own here Legs. The twins have gone off to find their mother, and you're the only one, apart from Arwen, and me, with any power over these people. They're all grieving and upset, yet you have still managed to make them listen to you, and reassure them that everything will be alright. And yet…" she paused, studying his face carefully. "You're hurting inside. And you're not showing your feelings enough."

"Don't give me a lecture Cel, I'm really not in the mood."

"I'm not going to give you a lecture, just a…a hint. I know how much you're hurting. Dinnu was like a brother to me too, just remember that. I'm grieving just as much as you are, yet neither of us is showing it very well."

"Celeblaith, when we are in situations like these, when many people have died, we have to think of others, not just ourselves. Others here have lost ones close to their hearts. Everyone is hurting. But we have to be strong for each other. Once we are definitely safe, once we have reached Rivendell, then we can start mourning properly. And if you mean showing my feelings by crying and all that stuff, I have cried. And so have you."

"I don't mean just crying. I mean…anger, and distress. You're not even the tiniest bit angry at anyone."

"I'm saving it all up."

"Who for?"

"Elladan and Elrohir. Once I see them again, they are going get such a tongue-lashing for leaving us like this. If they had told someone first, then I wouldn't have minded, but to just go off like that…I understand how they feel - Celebrían is their mother after all - I just wish they wouldn't do this to me all the time."

"Think how Lord Elrond feels. And Arwen. They've had it for years and years."

"True." He sighed and stretched his arms out above his head. "How's your head?"

"A bit better."

"Why was it hurting anyway?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I hit it when I fell from my horse."

"And your wrist? And ankle?"

"Much better. I didn't know Dolenmíl knew magic."

"Only for healing wounds. She can fix a broken bone just like that."

"That's pretty impressive." She sighed. "I suppose we had better be getting back?"

"Yes, come on." He stood and hauled her to her feet. Before they left, he took her back in for a huge hug. "I love you Celeblaith," he whispered.

"I love you too Greenleaf," she whispered back. They linked their little fingers again. She reached up on tiptoe, kissed his cheek, and then, taking his hand, led him back to their injured comrades.

Dolenmíl smiled to herself as she watched them walk along hand-in-hand.

It must be so nice to have brothers and sisters…

She shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts. That was not possible, and she knew it. She turned back to the casualty she was presently treating, and let her mind wander away from her dreams.

He will be mine. I'm not letting him go without a fight. Tor, how could you abandon me?

Thrálindë walked quietly through the Rivendell gardens, her face an emotionless mask.

But inside, she was fighting a losing battle. Everything she thought, every idea that entered her head, another came to counter it. No matter what she tried to do, she couldn't get Torfithien's words out of her head.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. Like I said before, Elrohir and I have made up. And I happen to like Dolenmíl. I don't want you splitting them up. I've seen them together, you haven't. You don't understand true love."

"Don't talk to me about love!" She stood up, glaring at Torfithien. "You're the one who doesn't understand about love. Have you ever been in love Tor?"

"Yes actually, I have. You just weren't here. You were miles away, having loads of fun in Lothlórien. Ok, maybe I haven't been with as many people as you have, or kissed as many, but I know how much love can hurt! Especially when you have been with someone for as many years as Elrohir and Dolenmíl, and then you get split up, wither through your own choice or by someone else's doing." She glared back at Thrálindë. "I want you to stop this right now Thrálindë, before it all goes too far."

"And what will you do if I don't?"

"Let's just say the word will spread that you're up to no good."

"Fine, whatever, go creeping to whoever you'll creep to."

She shuddered. Why had she said all those horrible things to her friend? Torfithien was the only other person who knew of her plans, and now she had left her. Thrálindë found herself alone.

She had gone over everything in her head over the past couple of days. She had thought carefully about her feelings for Elrohir, and eventually come to the conclusion that her love for him was still strong. And it always would be. Even if she did fall in love again, with someone completely different, Elrohir would always keep a piece of her heart.

But she wanted it back.

She didn't want to love him. She wanted to hate him if anything.

But it felt impossible to do so.

Every time she tried to forget about him, his face would pop up in her head. Whenever she tried to talk to someone about a subject that didn't involve him at all, the conversation always turned to him.

Why? Why must this happen?

She stopped walking, and sat down beneath a tall oak tree. She had heard rumours recently. About trouble in the Pass. That was where Elrohir was.

But rumours were rumours. She had had enough of them. They never did any good to anyone.

But…then again, a lot of scouts had been sent out. Maybe, just maybe…she ought to listen to these rumours…

"Oh, why must everything be so hard!" She jumped to her feet. "It's not fair! What have I done to deserve this?" She leant back against the trunk, looking up through the branches. "Why do I still love him? Why can't my heart forget him? Why, why, why!"

She collapsed back down to the ground again, tears steaming down her face. Her world was in tatters. She had hardly any friends, no lover, her family seemed to be wary of her even…she was completely, and utterly…alone.

She hugged her knees up to her chest, buried her head in her arms, and wept. She did not notice the wind beginning to pick up.

"Oh Thral, where are you?"

Torfithien sighed, closing the door to Thralind's' room behind her. She walked back down the hallway.

"Excuse me, have you seen Thrálindë?"

"No, sorry my Lady."

"Ok." Walking on a little further…

"Have you seen Thrálindë anywhere?"

"No, sorry Torfithien. I'll tell her you're looking for her if I see her though."

"Ok, thanks." Carries on walking…

"I don't suppose you've seen Thrálindë around have you?"

"Yes actually, I have."

"Where?"

"Heading out to the gardens. Must have been an hour or so ago. Careful though, there's a cold wind blowing up."

"Ok, thank you." She smiled gratefully, and hurried out to the gardens.

The Elf was right; the wind was cold. Torfithien wrapped her arms around her body. Using her senses, she sought out her friend, trying to see if she was out there anywhere.

She was.

"Oh great…" Lifting the hem of her dress a little so she would not trip, Torfithien hurried down the steps and along the path. The wind was harsh, making her skin turn red.

"Thrálindë! Thrálindë, where are you?"

No answer. Torfithien carried on running. "Thrálindë!"

The wind was gaining strength now, and light raindrops were beginning to fall. Torfithien cursed under her breath. "Where are you, you stupid girl…? Thrálindë!"

Still no response. As best she could, Torfithien tried to search for her with her mind, seeking out Thralind's thoughts. But all she could feel was a dark void, with just a tinge of red around it.

Thrálindë was out here all right. Unconscious.

"Thrálindë! Thral! Oh, why did I leave her? Thrálindë!"

She ran on, ignoring the ever-increasing rain soaking through her thin dress. She had to find her friend, and soon. The wind whipped through her hair, blowing in front of her face, up into the air. Her dress was getting wetter and wetter, but she kept on running.

She stopped suddenly at a fork in the path she was running along, feeling a presence nearby. Was it Thrálindë?

"Thrálindë!" she called again. There was no answer, but she headed in the direction this feeling was coming from. Down the left-hand path.

"Thral?" She peered round a corner. "Thrálindë!"

Thrálindë was curled up underneath an oak tree, the branches giving little protection against the rain. Torfithien ran over and shook the maiden's shoulders. "Thral, Thrálindë, wake up! We've got to get inside, it's pouring down."

But Thrálindë was silent. Torfithien frantically checked for a pulse, and was relieved to find one.

She looked around, trying to see if anyone else was there, but the gardens were deserted. Everyone was inside, escaping the rain that was now pouring down.

"Oh no…Thrálindë, Thrálindë, please wake up." She kept talking to her, squeezing her shoulders, trying to get any response at all, but there was none. She could find no injuries on her friend, and had no idea what had caused her to black out. It had never happened before, had it?

Maybe in Lothlórien. Perhaps something had happened to her there that caused to her to faint or collapse every now and then. Torfithien's mind buzzed with all these ideas, but all sounded ridiculous. No, this was something much more serious than that.

Thralind's' skin was pale, her breathing shallow, and her pulse weak. Torfithien began to curse the say her friend had ever fallen in love with Elrohir.

Thrálindë was fading, and it was all because of him.

"What a downpour."

"Aye. It has never rained like this here before, has it?"

"Not as far as I know." Glorfindel turned away from the window to face Erestor. "I hope no one is caught out in it."

"Everyone came rushing in as soon as the rain began to fall faster," Erestor replied, looking back at him. "It was quite amusing, watching everyone run in, trying to shield themselves from the water."

"I bet it was." Glorfindel sat down at his desk, and Erestor sat opposite him. "So, I take it you have done what Elrond told you to do?"

"Of course. And yourself?"

"Yes. The scout has already left." He sighed and stretched his arms. "It has been a long week, has it not."

"Most definitely. Personally, I cannot wait until it is over, and everyone is back safe and sound where they belong."

"I think that is what everyone is wishing for."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Enter," Glorfindel called.

A young Elf stuck his head round the door. "My Lord, I think there is something you should know."

"What is it Sinyë?"

"There are people out there." He pointed out the window, into the rain, which was slowly becoming a storm.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Thrálindë and Torfithien my Lord. I saw Thrálindë heading outside over an hour back, then Torfithien asked me if I had seen her about fifteen minutes ago. Neither of them has returned. They're still out there. Do you want me to go and find them?"

"Aye, but wrap up carefully. And I think I'll go and have a look myself. We'll go together. Erestor, stay here and keep an eye on things. We shan't be long."

Erestor nodded, and as Glorfindel placed a long cloak around his shoulders and put the hood up over his head, he made his way back to his own study.

"Come on then," he said to Sinyë, and they went outside.

The wind was now a gale, the rain pelting down as hard as hail. The two Elves stood together at the foot of the steps. "Stay together," Glorfindel called above the noise.

Sinyë just nodded, and they set off slowly, looking all around them for the two missing maidens. The rain made everything seem like a blur, and so they took it one step at a time.

"Do you have any idea in what direction they went?" Glorfindel asked.

"I saw Torfithien heading that way." Sinyë pointed down the path.

"Then we'll go that way first." They pulled their cloaks tighter around their bodies, and walked on down the path, their eyes and ears peeled for any signs of the girls.

On and on they walked, sometimes stumbling over unseen small rocks in the path, disguised by the rain. Glorfindel was using his senses to try and locate Torfithien or Thrálindë, but he was getting no responses.

As they came to a fork in the path, he stopped suddenly. "What is it my Lord?" Sinyë shouted above the howling wind.

"I can feel something." Glorfindel frowned, trying to see what it was. Closing his eyes, he could just see a dark void, tinted with red. He cursed under his breath. "They're unconscious," he told him.

"Is that any surprise?"

"Suppose not. This way." He led Sinyë down the left fork the path took, hoping beyond hope that they would be down here. The path continued to twist and turn, then finally opened up into a large lawn area. Glorfindel only realised just how far they were from the House when he saw what part of the River they were by.

There were trees dotted all over the grass, and as they looked around, Sinyë gave a shout. "There my Lord, there!" He pointed towards a tall oak tree, one of the oldest in Rivendell, Glorfindel noted.

There was an unidentifiable bundle underneath the tree, but the two Elves knew it was Thrálindë and Torfithien. They ran over, and checked their necks for pulses.

"Both are soaked," Glorfindel told the younger Elf. "Take Torfithien. Wrap her up in your cloak, and we'll have to hurry back to the House."

Sinyë nodded, and unclasped his cloak. He wrapped Torfithien in it, lifted her up, and waited for Glorfindel.

He did the same for Thrálindë, then they were running as fast as possible back to the House. Back up the path to the fork, then straight up that one to the House. Across the courtyard, up the steps, and into the warmth and safety of the House.

"To the Healing Ward," Glorfindel said. They strode along the corridors, round corners, up stairs, hurrying past people who had both concerned and confused looks on their faces at the two dripping Elves.

Glorfindel placed Thrálindë carefully down on one bed, Sinyë, Torfithien on another. They covered them with blankets, but too not too many, so as not to warm them up too fast. Sinyë called for the healers, whilst Glorfindel dried their arms and faces. Thralind's' lips were a dangerous shade of blue, and she had to get warm soon.

The healers soon arrived, and Glorfindel and Sinyë went to get dry. On his way to his room, Glorfindel met Elrond. The Elf Lord just stopped and stared at him.

"It's raining," Glorfindel said dryly.

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Why on Earth did you get out there Glorfindel?"

"Had to rescue Thrálindë and Torfithien. I have no idea why they were out there, but by the time Sinyë and I found them, they were both unconscious. They're in the Healing Ward. I think you had better take a look at them. Thrálindë especially doesn't look too good."

"Ok, I'll go there now. Go and get dry for goodness sake, and have a warm drink while you're at it. I don't want you catching pneumonia or something."

"Elrond, I won't catch pneumonia, due to the fact that I am an Elf."

"You know what I mean. Go on."

Glorfindel grinned at the dark-haired Elf, and carried on down to his room.

Once he was win dry clothes, and had a warm drink from the cooks,(which he had actually managed to get without any haggling), he went back to the Healing Ward. He had to see how the girls were.

The room was devoid of healers except for Elrond. He had his hand on Torfithien's forehead, a small frown creasing his brow. Sinyë stood at the foot of her bed, concern written all over his fair face.

"How is she?" Glorfindel asked.

"Torfithien's fine. Very cold, unconscious, but she'll be fine. Thrálindë on the other hand…"

"What's wrong with her?"

"She is in exactly the same state as Torfithien." He walked to her bedside. "But… she has other bad symptoms. Her breathing is a lot shallower than I want it to be, and her pulse is much weaker than Torfithien's. I have bad news."

"What?" they asked in unison.

Elrond sighed. "Thrálindë is…fading."

"Fading!" they both exclaimed.

"Yes, fading. Someone has hurt her deeply, and it has broken her heart. She's going to eventually die."

"But…who would have broken her heart…" Glorfindel shut his eyes in realisation. "Oh no…"

"What is it Glorfindel?"

"Elrond, I do believe your youngest son is the cause of all this."

"What? Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't you remember? Thrálindë and Elrohir used to be together, years ago. Then they separated, and Thrálindë went and lived in Lothlórien. She came back not too long ago, swearing to seek revenge on him. Or just get him back."

"How do you know all this?"

"Torfithien told me. Thrálindë had confided in her that she still loved Elrohir, and was - I suppose - jealous of Dolenmíl."

"So…Elrohir has managed to break her heart, without even seeing her?"

"She spoke to him at a dance recently. He must have said something that hurt her inside. And Torfithien has argued with her, saying that what she is trying to do is wrong. As far as I know, she is all alone. She loves and hates Elrohir at the same time. And there is nothing she can do about it."

"There must be something we can do," Sinyë said quietly.

They looked at him. "You know Thrálindë well Sinyë?" Elrond asked.

"Yes. She is my cousin. Her mother's sister is my mother."

"I see. And you are close to her?"

"Quite. I remember well the time she was with Lord Elrohir. I had never seen her so happy, and never have done since. When they broke up, it broke her heart. She just hid it well. I travelled with her to Lothlórien, and even there, she was still unhappy. I had to return here of course, but whenever I went to stay with her, there was always a shadow looming over her once bright, bubbly personality. Whatever happened between the two of them hurt her badly, and she has never fully recovered."

"Well that's news to me," Glorfindel stated.

"And me," Elrond agreed. He looked carefully at the young Elf before him. "You say she never fully recovered. What do you mean by that?"

"She was never the same Thrálindë. Every now and then, she would sink into a deep depression. Whenever her thoughts drifted back to Rivendell and Lord Elrohir. We would try desperately to keep her happy, but it seemed an impossible task. After nearly seven hundred years had passed, she seemed over him. For almost a decade, there was no mention of him. Then, five hundred years ago, she heard the story of the fight with the Dagnir-o Lóre. Then not long after, that Prince Elrohir had a new love in his life, and had supposedly never been happier. She became an empty shell, wandering round Lothlórien like a lost puppy. Quiet, shy, devoid of laughter. Then something in her clicked. She suddenly decided to return to Rivendell. She said nothing about Lord Elrohir all the way here. I happened to be in Lothlórien at the time of her decision. We rode home, and everything seemed normal. She was happy again, cheery, but there always something…I could never quite lay my finger on it. Something about her whole person was…different."

"She was quite alright when she entered Rivendell again for the first time in over a millennium?"

"Absolutely. At least, she seemed to be. I was watching her, and a shadow seemed to pass over her face as we rode under the Arch, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. We dismounted, walked inside, and she went to her room. I kept my eye on her, but she seemed completely normal."

"But she wasn't," Glorfindel said. "She hasn't been full of anger all this time. She's been full of pain, of sorrow. A broken heart that was never fully mended. 'Twas nurtured and watched over, but never healed. I suppose she has never been in love since?"

"No. There has been no one special in her life since Lord Elrohir."

"That doesn't surprise me." His gaze turned to the pale Thrálindë on the bed beside him. "Then there is nothing we can do."

"The only thing that would bring her back, is if Elrohir were here," Elrond told them. "But he is miles away. He may not return in time."

"But how would his being here awaken her?" Sinyë asked.

"I don't know. But it is the only option open to us."

"When Torfithien wakes up, we'll see if she can help," Glorfindel said. "For now, all we can do is wait."

"I hate waiting," Elrond complained. To Glorfindel, his meaning was clear, but Sinyë was not taking much notice. He sat down beside his cousin, took her cold hand in his, and sat there silently, watching and waiting.

The two Lords left him alone for the time being.

See! It was loooooooooooooong. Next chapter coming soon, and some more replies would be very nice! Please?

Faerlain.