Chapter 10
Notes: Review??


Elrond had given them all express orders not to kill any of the elves they were fighting. Whatever else, Elrond did not condone kinslaying, and would do nearly anything to prevent any elves' death being his own fault. It was around midday when he realized how high-minded his policy was. He had passed at least a dozen dead Imladris warriors in the past hour, and knew that his foes had no qualms about kinslaying. So he passed on the word to all he passed, as much as it pained him, to kill if necessary.

Apart from that, though, he had never felt quite so alive. Killing was something he knew he was good at, though he did not like it. He much preferred to be renowned for ability to help, not to harm, but one did only what one could. Glorfindel was better than he was, and the two were a veritable whirlwind in the battle. Elrond also noticed in passing that Elladan was well on his way to becoming as skilled as himself or Glorfindel. If this fight lasted long, Elladan could become enough of a master to really be able to defend himself.

The day was long, longer than any Elrond had experienced in a long time. He had a routine that he had built up over centuries, and it was rare for him to break that ritual. Now he had. The two sides fought well into the night, and it was only after the leader of the other side (Elrond had no idea who it was, but he guessed that he was still alive, as the rebels still seemed to have some organization) seemed to realize this that they pulled back. Elrond's warriors followed them for a little while, but Elrond called them back. For his warriors to chase the rebels would invite only more death. Maybe with the results of today, they would give up and tomorrow they could start rebuilding and forgetting.

Glorfindel came up to him and pulled him close. Elrond smelled like blood, but Glorfindel didn't really care right now. All that mattered was that Elrond had survived. "Good to see you're still here," he murmured as light-heartedly as he could.

"I know," replied Elrond. He pulled away from the taller elf, and looked down at the ground. Even though it was dark, he could tell that the liquid that was turning the dirt into mud was not water. That dimmed whatever smile Elrond might have managed. "It's been a long day, and I'm tired like I haven't been in a long time…let's go to bed."

Glorfindel nodded. "I can't think of anything better right now. But…have you seen Elladan recently?"

"How recently?"

"Well, I haven't seen him in a couple of hours. We should probably make sure that he's fine first."

A spike of fear pierced Elrond's heart. "Yes, of course." Though he knew that such a search could take a very long time. It was pitch-black outside and there was many elves milling around. And it was loud enough that just shouting out his name would get them nowhere. So they began to push their way through the crowd, each searching the faces around them and the bodies at their feet.

"Father?" came a voice from behind.

Elrond turned and saw Elladan. He was dirty and tired and had a long bloody scratch down the side of his face, but he was alive. Elrond threw his arms around his son. "Elladan, you have no idea how glad I am to be alive."

"Father," said Elladan in a scared voice, "how long is this going to last?"

"I don't know." He pulled away from Elladan and looked clinically at the scratch down his son's face. It wasn't all that deep, but it was bleeding quite a bit and could easily be infected under such conditions as these. But he was too tired to be able to do anything about. "Go to the healers to see about your face. I'm too tired right now."

Elladan nodded, and hugged his father again. On impulse, he then proceeded to hug Glorfindel. Then he looked at both of them and said, "I'll see you in the morning. But I think that tomorrow will be much the same as today."

Elrond hated to admit it, but he knew that his son was probably right.


Elrohir hadn't gone out to fight, as Belegtur had ordered. But he had been the one to set up their camp just a few hundred meters from the Last Homely House. He saw all the elves as they came in, somehow hoping that Belegtur had been killed. He knew that if that happened, he would be able to escape.

But then he saw the elf. Belegtur walked over to him. "Princeling, today we struck a mighty blow against your father."

"I don't believe you," said Elrohir honestly. They had been fighting too long and too many elves had not come back for that to be true. "I think you will lose. But I believe that if you offer to surrender now, my father…"

Belegtur struck Elrohir hard across the face. Elrohir staggered beneath the blow. "Have you learned nothing here, princeling? Your father hates us, and he will never treat with us. We have long learned to accept it, and when we are finished with you, you will learn as well."

"I will not allow you to kill my family." About some things, Elrohir had to remain strong. "I love them. I would do anything for them. Just as you would do anything for your family. Could you kill those you love?"

"Those I love are not hypocritical scum!"

"And neither is my father!"

"Shut up, princeling." Belegtur's voice was low and dangerous. "Do not speak about what you do not know. I have killed elves today. Now, you have some healing skills, yes?"

Elrohir couldn't help but nod. "Yes."

"Then get to work on my elves. They need your help."

Elrohir couldn't say what he truly felt. What he really felt was that there was no way that he could help these elves because they were fighting against his father. What he truly felt was that all of these elves should simply be struck dead right now. What he felt right now was that he would rather kill himself than help these elves. But he couldn't say any of that, and so simply said, "Fine."


Elrond collapsed down onto his bed and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he felt gentle hands remove his boots. He would have thanked Glorfindel, but frankly, he was too tired to do so. Moments after his boots were moved, the hands had moved to his waist, to remove his pants. Elrond allowed Glorfindel to do this as well, and also to remove his shirt.

A minute or so later, Elrond felt Glorfindel sit on the bed. "Sit up, meleth," said Glorfindel softly.

"I'm not sure I can."

"Please."

Elrond pulled himself up to a sitting position. One of Glorfindel's strong arms folded around his waist and pulled him backwards. Elrond couldn't have stopped Glorfindel even had he wanted to. Then Glorfindel's more than capable hands began to massage the tension out of Elrond's shoulders and back.

"I love you," said Elrond softly. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone." But, as ever, that traitorous thought crept into his mind. Except Erestor.

"I know. I was scared today, Elrond. Not that I would die. Not that those bastards out there would win. But that I would lose you. I don't think I could bear to do that. You are so precious to me, Elrond. I would do anything for you."

"Would you now?" Elrond squirmed out of Glorfindel's grasp and pinned Glorfindel down.

"I thought you were tired," said Glorfindel uncomplainingly as gentle kisses made their way down his cheek and down his throat. Glorfindel had already removed his clothes, seeing them as nothing but a menace in bed.

Elrond paused long enough to say, "Do you want me to stop?"

Glorfindel shook his head and lay back, enjoying the fact that he had a lover and that there was someone to go back to after the battle was over. "Elrond, do you think that you could do me a huge favor?"

Elrond looked up, smiling. He moved up to curl beside Glorfindel. "That would honestly depend on what said favor was."

"Bond with me."

Elrond moved a little away from Glorfindel. "What?"

Glorfindel pulled Elrond back over and kissed him, rolling on top of him. Taking both of Elrond's wrists in his own, he pinned Elrond's arms above his head. Elrond tried to squirm out of this, but both of them knew two things; that Glorfindel was stronger, and that Elrond liked this.

"Bond with me."

"Glorfindel, that's…"

"We have been together for centuries, meleth. I can't see why you would want anything but to bond with me…unless there's someone else. But I think that I would know about this other someone."

The real reason was that, for some reason, Elrond still resented Glorfindel a little for driving Erestor away and ultimately being the cause of his death. And that he wasn't entirely sure that Glorfindel was completely faithful. But Elrond had no proof of this, so he never brought it up. None of those reasons, though, were ones that Elrond could give to Glorfindel. "I'm the ruler of Imladris…"

Glorfindel raised his other hand. He held his hand in a fist, and then stuck his first finger up. "One, everyone already knows that we're together. We never made a secret of it." Another finger went up. Two, you've already bonded once, and you have heirs. That's not of consequence anymore." And now a third finger. "Three, I'm sick and tired of this lack of commitment. I went through that with Erestor and I refuse to sit through the same thing with you. I love you and I want to make this real."

"That's fine, Glorfindel. I love you. You know that. But I bonded with Celebrán only because I had to. Celeborn and Galadriel forced me to. Before that…maybe I'm just not the type that likes to bond."

"You have never felt strongly enough about anyone to commit to them? And I'm not just talking about me now. I know you've had lovers in the past. You never loved any of them?"

No. I've been obsessed with Erestor ever since I met him. All my lovers were inconsequential. "I have never loved them enough to want to bond with them." A long pause. "Glorfindel, do we have to talk about this right now? I'm tired and so are you. I don't want to have to make a decision like this when I'm under such an extraordinary amount of stress."

Glorfindel sighed and rolled off of Elrond. He lay down facing away from Elrond, and he inched away every time that Elrond attempted to get close. Elrond finally gave up and retreated to the other side of the bed. He wished that Glorfindel wouldn't be so difficult about this. They had just had one of (in Elrond's mind) the most important battles since those of the Last Alliance. And all Glorfindel could think of was to ask a question of such monumental importance? Glorfindel could be like that sometimes. It was, Elrond admitted, one of the reasons that Elrond knew he could never devote his whole heart to this elf that had shared his bed for more than a millennia. Glorfindel was just too different in such miniscule ways from him that it always seemed that some tiny piece was missing. If that piece was filled, then the two of them would complete each other. But that was missing, and Elrond knew that he couldn't be bonded to someone that he wouldn't be complete with. With Celebrán, Elrond had found this out. It had been, essentially, an arranged bonding, and while they both kept up a good façade, it was a tumultuous relationship. They were friends before the bonding, but the intimacy that bonding created drove a wedge between them. They had managed to keep these tensions away from the children, but Glorfindel had known they existed all along. It was, in a horrible way, almost a relief when Celebrán sailed to Valinor. It meant that Elrond could finally stop pretending. So why would Glorfindel try to press this issue with him right now?

Elrond forced himself to stop thinking these things. He had to be ready to fight tomorrow and that meant that he would have to get some sleep. So he cleared his mind of his problems and fell asleep. The image that he saw right before he drifted to sleep was Erestor's face.


Elladan woke to the sounds of swords clashing. Immediately, he opened his eyes and reached beside him to take his sword. But it was dark outside and there were none of the other sounds of battle; no screams of dying men, no triumphant shouts of those who lived, and the stench of death wasn't quite as thick anymore. So he looked around for the sounds, and saw a slender, dark-haired elf in the corner apparently teaching a younger elf some combat moves. The older elf had warrior braids, but was dressed in common clothes, not even Imladris colors.

Elladan must have made some noise as he sat up, for the elf looked at him with warm eyes and smiled. "I'm sorry if I woke you, Master Elladan. It was not my intent."

Elladan shook his head. Something about this elf was immediately extremely attractive to him, even though he could tell that the elf was at least decently old, if not quite as old as his father or Glorfindel. "No, it's fine. Keep going. I want to watch."

The elf shrugged. "As you wish, Master Elladan." He turned back to his pupil. "Again." They went through the same motions as before, and Elladan could tell that the older elf was very skilled. The two practiced for a little while longer, and then the older told the other to go back to bed. He walked over to Elladan then.

"What's your name?" asked Elladan.

"Dùlith," said the elf, sitting down on the edge of Elladan's bed.

"Where do you call home? Lorien? Mirkwood?"

"I do not live in any elven realm. I am a farmer, I live near Imladris."

"Then how did you come by such skills with a sword?"

Dùlith smiled. "I fought in the Last Alliance. After that, I wanted to hang up my sword, so to speak. So I have been a farmer since then. But Lord Elrond has kept me reasonably safe despite the fact that I do not actually live in Imladris, so I figured that this was the least I could do in repayment."

Elladan was a little disappointed. Dùlith was much older than him. He had felt an inexplicable attraction to him and now wasn't sure why. He generally didn't fall for older elves. "Do you think that you could show me some of those moves?"

Dùlith smiled more broadly. "Certainly, Master Elladan. But surely your father and Lord Glorfindel have passed on their knowledge to you. I can assure you that their skills far surpass my own."

"Yeah, but I've known them forever. And they're always…it's like they're always holding something back from me."

"I see. Then get up, Master Elladan."

"You can call me Elladan, you know. Everyone else does." Elladan was somehow disturbed and slightly upset at the elf's insistence on formality. But he got up anyhow and took out his sword.

"That is a beautiful weapon, Master Elladan. Did it once belong to Lord Elrond?"

Elladan frowned. As a matter of fact, it had. It had been one of his father's prize possessions, and Elladan had seen the pain in his father's face when Elladan asked for it as a gift in order for clearing a particularly vicious orc patrol. But his father had gifted it to him anyway. "Yes, it did. How did you know?"

"I have heard stories. Do you know it's name?"

"No, my father never told me. What is it called?"

"Meldîn."

Elladan frowned as he translated that. "Meldîn? Silent Love? Author's note: hope I translated that right. Where would it get a name like that?"

Dùlith shrugged. "That is just what it is called. I did not name it. You carry a sword of greatness, Master Elladan. Let us see if you can use it as such." Dùlith held up his own sword. It was well-worn, but it looked cared for.

They stepped away from the bed and Dùlith made the first strike, one that cut into Elladan's unprotected right arm. Elladan nearly dropped his sword and danced back. "What was that?"

"Be careful, Master Elladan. You must always be on your toes. An enemy will not always tell you when they are about to attack. Now, let us fight."

Elladan was angry now. Not exactly angry at Dùlith, it was more like the pain drove him. He backed Dùlith against the wall. "Maybe you're not so good as you looked before."

Dùlith smiled and turned the fight around with a deft move so quick that Elladan didn't know what happened to him until he had his back to a wall with Dùlith's swordpoint at his throat. Dùlith backed down. "Yes, I am. But you should get some sleep, Master Elladan. There will be enough time for fighting once the day breaks."


Haldir rode into Imladris just after dawn at the head of a force of two hundred warriors. The stench was almost overpowering. Haldir had not smelled this much death in millennia and it saddened him more than he could say. The land around the Last Homely House looked like a battlefield. The ground was torn up and the blood had soaked into everything. Most of the bodies still lay where they fell, and already Haldir saw elves he knew. His breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes, mumbling a prayer for the dead. Then he rode into the courtyard and dismounted. Knowing that niceties were not as important right now, he did not wait for anyone to come and greet him. He entered and went immediately to Elrond's room, where he found both Elrond and Glorfindel nearly dressed for battle.

Elrond turned as Haldir entered. A look of hate flashed briefly before his eyes, but it mellowed quickly. "Did Celeborn send you?"

"Yes, Elrond. It's a bloody mess out there. Have you seen it?"

"I was fighting in it."

Haldir nodded. "I've brought two hundred warriors."

Elrond smiled. "Good. We'll need every sword we can get. These rebels, they're a lot more talented than I thought they would be. We'll win, but there's no telling how long it's going to take or how many of mine must die. I just want this to be over, Haldir."

"I know. I am glad to be able to fight at your side, Elrond. It's time for us to put those old hates behind us. This has to make both of see how pointless they are. Erestor has been dead for centuries, there's no reason for us to still be angry with each other over that."

Elrond nodded. "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry, my friend."

"No need for apologies. It's time to go fight."

Elrond's smile faded. "Yes, it is."


Elrohir watched as the elves began to dress for battle. He wished that he could stop them, he wished that he could make sure that no more had to die. It hurt him deeply to know that there was such a kinslaying occurring, and that he had helped to heal those who had instigated the fight. He knew that there would be no forgiveness for him when this was all over. Everyone, even if they didn't say it, would view him as having helped the enemy of his own will, and all would shun him. It was a good thing that Elladan was Elrond's heir, for Imladris would never accept him.

"Princeling," said Belegtur, walking over to him.

"Yes?"

"Get ready to go out there."

"You want me to fight?"

"No, princeling. I want you to haul away our dead. They will not rot where they fell. I would not ask you to fight. I know you would not stay loyal."

"I'm not going out there."

Belegtur pulled out his sword. "You will, princeling, or I will kill you right now, right here."

"I am the only healer you have. To send me out there would be a death sentence. You and I both know that. You would be a fool to do this when you know that if I die, there will no longer be anyone to help you when you get hurt." Elrohir hated to play that card, but it was seriously his only option.

Belegtur nodded. He could see the sense in that. He touched his sword lightly against Elrohir's throat, letting him feel the metal graze lightly against the skin. "Princeling, I am only keeping you alive for the things you can do for my companions. As soon as you cease to be useful, I will not hesitate to kill you. I think it's just important that you know that."

Elrohir swallowed hard, and nodded. "Of course." He looked Belegtur over, and tried to think of a way to ingratiate himself with the elf. "Could I help you with your armor?"

Belegtur's eyes narrowed in suspicion of treachery. "I suppose. Come with me."

Elrohir followed Belegtur, hating himself for wanting to help this evil, hating himself for not just killing Belegtur, hating himself for not just killing himself.


Glorfindel heard footsteps rushing down the hall and instinctively drew his sword. But it was just Elladan. "Good morning, Elladan," he said. After an almost invisible glance to make sure that no one, especially Elrond or Haldir, was around, he kissed Elladan lightly, quickly.

"Where's my father?"

"With Haldir. They will be here shortly."

As if on cue, the two appeared. Elrond saw Elladan and looked his face over. There would be a slight scar, but that would fade with time. "Good morning, Elladan."

"Why did you never tell me the sword had a name?"

Elrond looked momentarily confused (such an expression was extremely rare), and asked, "Which sword?"

Elladan drew his sword. "Meldîn. Why did you never tell me?"

Elrond's gaze locked with Glorfindel's for a moment. Glorfindel shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly; he had not been the one to tell Elladan. "Where did you hear that from?" Elrond asked, trying desperately hard not to sound too agitated.

"An elf told me last night. He said that there were stories about it."

"A few," admitted Elrond.

"So why didn't you tell me?"

"Must have slipped my mind. Now, I'm sure there are more important things we should be doing than discussing the name of your sword. We should be out there, preparing for battle." A momentary pause. "Coincidentally, who was this elf?"

Elladan's face screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember the name. "I think…he said his name was Dùlith."

Elrond frowned, trying to recall any he knew of that name. None came to mind. He promptly dismissed the thought; he had not dwelled on this sword's name for a long time. He had named it after Erestor, and had eventually told Erestor about it. Erestor had been amused at the time, Elrond recalled, and had even given him a quick kiss for it. Elrond smiled fondly at that sudden memory. Then he cleared his mind; fighting was the thing to do now, not think about times past. There would be time for that after the fighting was over. "Let's go out there and fight, then."

Elladan nodded. "I have to go, then. There's some friends I promised to see before the fight begins today."

Elrond nodded, and watched his son run off. He swallowed hard and looked at Haldir and Glorfindel, forcing a brief smile.

"Meldîn," said Haldir thoughtfully. "That was your sword during the Last Alliance, wasn't it?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes."

"Why did you give it to Elladan?"

Elladan, who had remained deliberately out of sight but still in hearing distance, waited for the answer.

"I had to forget Erestor."

Elladan frowned now. Who was Erestor? Elladan had never heard his name before. But had he been a lover of his father's? He somehow couldn't see his father being with anyone other than Celebrán or Glorfindel. This was something he was going to have to investigate further.