Title: Elven Hearts Part 11?
Author: Anonymous slashlover
Notes: Please please please review it. please. please.
And so the second day of battle began. Both sides appeared to be more restrained. Both had lost at least half of their numbers the previous day and there were a lot less elves to fight. Elrond and his warriors pursued a more aggressive strategy than the previous day and Belegtur and his force were much more defensive. This spurred Elrond on, and he fought harder.
He couldn't get Erestor out of his mind today. He couldn't help but remember all the times they had spent together. He supposed it was because of the sword. That made Elrond think of the time that he had given the sword its name.
It was near the end of the fighting, though none of them knew that at the time. The tide had turned, but no one was sure how much longer it was going to last, Elrond among them. He knew that he was no longer in control of the course of the war. That was Erestor's domain. Erestor typically visited him every evening, and they would talk well into the night. Elrond had been trying to work up the courage to ask Erestor to spend the night, but the aloofness that Erestor radiated seemed to imply that he wanted to be alone.
Erestor walked in that night. His shirt was open, as it was warm outside, and it showed off the clearly-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. It made Elrond hard just to see him like that. "Good evening, my lord."
"Evening, Erestor. So, is there to be a battle tomorrow?"
Erestor smiled. "No. I'm tired, and I need to sleep. So there's going to be no fighting until I am back in the mood."
"And do our foes know this plan of yours?"
The smile broadened. "I'm afraid not."
Elrond melted like butter at that smile. Erestor, he knew, was the most beautiful elf in the world. His dark hair was like silk, his skin smooth and unlined. Elrond couldn't think of a gem in all of Arda that he would want more than Erestor. Nothing could compare. "So there may indeed by a battle?"
"I am not a god, my lord."
You are to me. Elrond got up to start a small fire. It was not cold, but it would soon be dark, and if it was dark, Elrond wouldn't be able to look upon Erestor's face. As the fire caught, the metal of his sword gleamed brilliantly, looking for an instant like Erestor's smile. It was at that moment that Elrond decided upon the name for the sword that he had had forged before he had set out from Imladris. The only name that could capture the beauty that he had seen in that sword was Erestor's. But a sword could not carry a name like that, so Elrond would have to think on a secret name for it that would keep his heartache secret.
Elrond smiled, and he closed his eyes for a second in remembrance. That second proved to be a terrible mistake. Belegtur saw Elrond and grinned to himself. Raising his sword, he landed a powerful blow to Elrond's upper back. Elrond's eyes flew open and his view was dimmed by agony. Having lost feeling throughout his body, he fell off his horse and landed hard on the ground. His sight started to dim at the edges and he shook his head, trying to overcome the pain. But it was impossible. Right before he passed out, he saw a tall, handsome elf stand above him, a sword in the elf's hand.
Elrond knew he was going to die.
Haldir was overcome by bloodlust. He didn't know quite how it had happened. One second he had been quite in control of himself, and the next he was just killing left and right. In some back part of his mind, he knew he would hate himself for this later, but all he could imagine in his mind's eye right now was that all of these elves had somehow been responsible for Erestor's death. Seeing that old sword this morning had driven that home and now Haldir could think of nothing else.
A hand came to rest firmly on his shoulder. He swung around, his sword slicing around in a deadly arc. Another sword pushed the strike back. It was Glorfindel. "You've done enough for today," he said loudly, so as to be heard over the general clamor of the battle.
"You know nothing, murderer."
"Haldir, go to the healers. You're bleeding badly."
Haldir looked at his arm and saw, for the first time, a deep bloody gash running down most of his arm. For the life of him, he couldn't remember how it had gotten there. His rage faded as the pain set in. "Yes, Glorfindel," he said meekly.
"I'll take you there, to make sure that's where you go," said Glorfindel. He began to lead Haldir away from the center of the battle, swatting aside the occasional elf. Finally, they got outside of the battle and made their way to the healer's tents. Glorfindel left Haldir in the more than capable hands of a healer and headed back into the fray. He had to fight, they all had to fight. But Haldir would have gotten himself killed if Glorfindel had allowed him to stay. And as much as Glorfindel harbored a little resentment towards Haldir, what Haldir had said this morning was true. They couldn't let such petty quarrels divide them when they were faced with such a monumental crisis as this.
Elladan was nearly killed by a chance blow from an elf much stronger than him. He struggled under the crushing weight of the sword. Suddenly, the weight became nothing. Elladan frowned until he saw Dùlith standing behind the now-dead elf, his sword dripping fresh blood. "Be more careful, Master Elladan. You are the heir to Imladris."
"I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can, Master Elladan. But I'll still be here to watch your back." And then Dùlith disappeared again into the mass of elves.
Elladan smiled. This was definitely an elf he liked a lot. He would have to find some way to convince Dùlith to stay here after the battle was over. Elladan was morbidly sure that he would get on wonderfully with Elrond and Glorfindel, and the three would find endless incredibly boring things to discuss with each other. Elladan was sure that when not fighting, Dùlith would be just as boring as his father and Glorfindel. But that didn't mean that Elladan wasn't attracted to him.
He darted back into the fight as well. The sounds and sights and smells overwhelmed him for an instant until he could manage to clear his mind. He was jostled on every side by elves and it was, at times, hard to tell what side some elves were on. Elladan was certain that many elves died at the hands of those on their side, as it would be impossible for it to not happen. He shut his mind down as much as he could and began to kill methodically. He was certain that future generations would condemn Elrond and all of his kin for involving themselves in this, but Elladan saw it as a matter of survival. He would rather be a disgraced, living elf, than an honorable dead one.
So caught up on trying his best to notice nothing, he almost didn't realize who lay at his feet for nearly five minutes. Finally, his gaze turned to the elf at his feet. The elf was wearing Imladris colors, albeit stained so thoroughly with blood that they did not appear to be those of Imladris any longer. The dark hair was matted with blood. A terrible gash ran down the center of the elf's chest. The eyes were dull and unfocused, staring silently into nothingness.
Elladan dropped to his knees, his eyes becoming blurry with tears. "Father," he cried softly, reaching over to gently push the eyelids over those horrible dead eyes. "Father."
Celeborn was accustomed to things going wrong. He had lived a very long life and knew that it was better to be worried if nothing went wrong. Those were the troubling circumstances. He had dealt with all manner of terrible crises before, and through them all, no matter how emotional he ended up getting over them, Galadriel always stayed calm. She was the perfect balance for him. She was always calm, so much so that he was sometimes afraid of her.
And that was why he was terrified beyond measure when he heard Galadriel weeping. He had never seen her cry before and couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine, what would send her into such despair. Hesitant to disturb her, but knowing that it was his duty as her bonded mate to comfort her, he walked softly into the room. "Meleth? What is it?"
Galadriel composed herself as much as she could, which, she had to admit, was woefully little. "It's Elrond."
"Gods, what's happened to him?"
"I don't know. He called out to me a little while ago. There were no words, I could tell he wasn't strong enough for words. It lasted only an instant, but such pain…I hope that I shall never have to feel as he did. And then the connection died. I haven't been able to get back in touch with him, as hard as I try. And you can farspeak even through unconsciousness. Elrond has to be dead."
Celeborn was astounded. Elrond had shown every sign of being a famous elf that, for once, would live to a ripe old age. Most of the other heroes he had known had died relatively young, in battle. Now it appeared that Elrond had joined their number. Celeborn wondered if Imladris could still beat back this insurrection without Elrond. It would certainly be a lot harder. And who would rule Imladris afterwards? Elladan was very young, much younger than Elrond had been. And the thought of Glorfindel taking power repulsed him. Dammit, Elrond, why did you have to go and die? Out loud, he said, "What are we going to do?"
"I don't know," said Galadriel. She didn't say that very often, and when she said it, she really had no idea at all.
"We can't let Glorfindel take over."
"Elladan is too young to rule."
"What if Elladan and Elrohir rule jointly?"
"Elrohir is probably dead."
"Then what if Haldir watches over Elladan?"
"Imladris will accuse us of trying to take over."
"Well we need to find someone." Celeborn paused. "It's times like this that I wish that Erestor hadn't died. He could have watched over Elladan."
Galadriel smiled sadly. "Elrond wouldn't be dead if Erestor was alive. We both know that Erestor would have sacrificed himself for Elrond."
"Yes, I know."
"Imladris is going to fall apart without Elrond."
A very sad smile. "I know that, too."
Glorfindel saw Elladan sobbing and raced over. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"My father…he's dead…"
"What?" Glorfindel felt a wave of shock pass over him. "How…how do you know?"
"I saw him." Elladan collapsed down onto the ground, rocking slightly back and forth. "I saw him, he's dead, he's dead."
"Shh," said Glorfindel, dropping down to the ground gracefully to pull Elladan into his arms. "Shh." He was having to try very hard, though, not to cry himself. What he wanted was to go and see the elf Elladan was talking about. He wanted to see that it somehow was not Elrond, that Elrond was still out there and that he was not dead. "But I need to see him."
Elladan rose unsteadily back up. Glorfindel wrapped a paternal arm around Elladan. They began to walk. Elladan seemed to know exactly where he was going, and when he reached the spot, he dropped down to his knees. "Father," he cried softly. "Father."
Glorfindel started to lose control. He went to the ground, too, running his hand through Elrond's hair, over Elrond's cheek, swallowing back the sobs that he knew were going to come soon. "Elrond, meleth," he murmured. "You can't be dead. You promised me."
Elladan took Glorfindel's hand. "Why, can you tell me that? Why did he deserve to die?"
"No one deserves to die, Elladan. No one."
Elladan nodded. "Is there…nothing we can do?"
"I think he's too far gone, Elladan. If we wanted…someone could try bonding with him. That might bring him back, though I wouldn't hold out any hope."
"You have to try, Glorfindel. You have to. I don't care if it's too late, you have to try."
Glorfindel closed his eyes. Don't you know, Elladan, that if I try and fail, I will be dragged along with Elrond to the Halls of Waiting? I have been there once already and I have no desire to go back. If it is too late, I am killing myself pointlessly. Out loud, he said, "If you would really like me to try, I will."
"Yes, I would."
"Then we must get the two of us somewhere we can be alone. This could take a while." But what about fighting? Elrond and I were the best ones out there. What will happen without both of us? "Elladan, I need you to take control of our army. Don't tell them what happened to your father. Not until we have everything figured out."
Elladan knew that he had to be in control now. He had to restrain himself and act like nothing was wrong. He had seen his father pretend that everything was fine before, and he had been good at it. Elladan was Elrond's son, and he assumed that it just took a little getting used to. "Okay. Why don't you go to your rooms? I'll check up on you two before I go to bed."
Glorfindel nodded, then lifted Elrond's surprisingly light body into his arms. With tears threatening to leave his eyes the entire trip, he finally made it to Elrond's rooms unnoticed. He lay Elrond down on the bed, wishing that he didn't have to take this step. It was so unlikely to work that there was almost no point trying. But he loved Elrond, and he would do anything for Elrond. So he took out his dagger, sliced a line down his palm, barely feeling the pain. He took Elrond's cold hand in his and repeated the action. Then he lay down on the bed, their hands clasped.
The last thing Glorfindel felt was a wave of icy coldness rushing over his body.
Elladan sensed that everything was descending into chaos. The battle had ended, but it seemed that, in his father's absence, everyone was coming to him and asking him to deal with their problems. Elladan couldn't help but wonder if his father actually dealt with all of this, or just came up with some really good excuse to get everyone to go away. The only thing was that he knew of no such tricks.
"Are you okay?" asked the already-familiar voice from behind.
"No," said Elladan, almost breaking down but forcing himself not to.
Dùlith nodded, then raised his voice and said, "Everyone, out of here now." Elladan was surprised by how authoritative Dùlith sounded. It was the tone of voice of an elf who was listened to and expected to be obeyed. It was surprisingly like Elrond's. Once everyone had left the immediate area, Dùlith put a protective arm around Elladan and led him to a bench to sit down. "What's wrong?"
"My father's dead."
"Lord Elrond is dead?"
"Yes…Glorfindel is trying…to bond with him and bring him back…but I don't think it will work…and I don't want my father to die…Dùlith, I don't want to have to be in charge."
Dùlith folded his arms around the younger elf and held him while he sobbed. "Glorfindel is a very powerful elf. If there is anyone that can bring your father back, it will be him."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then you will be the Lord of Imladris."
"Will you stay here with me?"
"If Lord Glorfindel does not succeed? If you would like. It has been a long time since I have held any kind of position of power, though…"
"Those elves were listening to you."
"They are leaderless and afraid, Elladan. They need someone to be strong for them. I can't be that figure. I am a nobody. You are Lord Elrond's son. You must do what I cannot. I will help you as much as I can, but you must become the Lord."
Haldir knew something was wrong. He just wasn't sure what it was. He hadn't seen Elrond or Glorfindel. Fortunately, he had not seen their bodies, either, and for that, he was grateful. He didn't know what Imladris would do if Elrond was killed.
"Haldir," said Elladan.
Haldir turned and saw a very obviously distressed Elladan. The worst kind of thoughts entered his mind. "What is it?"
"It's my father." Elladan was surprised how much of his composure he had regained over the past few hours. It was amazing. "He's dying. Glorfindel is trying…to bond with him…"
"What?" exclaimed Haldir.
"Do you have a problem with that?" asked Elladan curiously. He had always known there had been a good deal of fighting between Haldir and Elrond, though neither had ever told him exactly why.
"No. I'm just surprised." Haldir didn't want to drag Elladan into this ancient fight. Erestor wasn't even around anymore. "Where are they?"
"In my father's room. I was going to visit them now. I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me."
"Yes, I would."
Haldir followed Elladan through the halls. Elladan paused outside the doors. He didn't know whether he wanted to go in or not. He knew it would be quite realistic to believe that both of them were dead; that Glorfindel had followed Elrond into the Halls of Waiting.
Haldir put his hand on Elladan's shoulder. "It'll be okay, Elladan. Whatever happens, it will be okay. You have to believe that."
Elladan nodded shakily and pushed the door open. He saw both figures prone on the bed, their hands clasped. He walked closer and saw that Glorfindel's chest was still rising and falling regularly. With a sigh, he noted that his father's was not. His father was still not breathing. He felt himself sob once, and then Haldir hugged him. "Haldir, I really thought…"
"It isn't over yet, Elladan. It won't be over until both of them are alive or both of them are dead. Lord Glorfindel is still fighting. And he won't give up easily."
Elladan nodded again. "You're right." He walked over to the bed and touched Glorfindel's cheek. It was so cold. "He's so cold," said Elladan.
"He's battling Mandos. He's trying to win back Elrond. I guess that means Glorfindel really does love Elrond."
"He always has."
Haldir chuckled. "As long as you've been alive, yes. But not before that."
Elladan frowned. "What do you mean?" He thought back to what he had heard this morning, an eternity ago. "Does it have anything to do with…Erestor?" He watched with some interest as a shocked expression appeared on Haldir's face.
"Where did you hear about Erestor?"
"I heard someone talk about him."
"Well, he is long dead, and there is no need to bring up the past. Come, Elladan. We should leave your father alone."
"Haldir, tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Who was Erestor?"
"Just an elf."
Elrohir knew something had gone horribly wrong when he saw the huge smile on Belegtur's face. He was almost afraid to ask. But he had to know. So he walked over and asked, "What happened?"
"Your father is dead. I killed him myself."
Elrohir managed to contain his emotions only for an instant. Then he physically crumpled. "Why? Why? Tell me why," he sobbed.
Belegtur pulled him up roughly. "Calm down, princeling. Your father was a weak man. He used to be strong, he used to be a hero. No one will deny that. But he became an evil one when he became the Lord of Imladris. He deserved to die. Now you, you would make a much better Lord, wouldn't you?"
"What are you saying?"
"I still intend to kill your brother. But…I could put you in as Lord of Imladris safely. You would do what I said, wouldn't you?"
"You killed my father!"
"Yes, I did. But I told you why I had to. And I know that if it had been some other man, not your father, then I think that you would agree with me."
"But he was my father!"
"Think about it, princeling. I can make you anything you want to be. And I don't ask all that much in return. This could be a great thing for you."
Elrohir bowed his head. "He was my father."
