Title: Delw yomenie (Deadly encounter)

Characters: All Peredhels, mainly Strider, Legolas……and something/someone deadly….

Timeline: Before FOTR

Rating: T (!)

Warnings: For some disturbing images. Cruelty and maniacal behaviour.

Summery: Our Middle-Earth friends encounter something deadly…..

Feedback: YES! Please!

A/N: Hey, Trini! Thank you so much for your beta. I already miss the nice emails coming from you. Trini, I changed part of the plot, but not much, just in case you wonder. Perhaps we meet later with another story that needs your wonderful help. Hannon le, mellon.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the works of Tolkien. Neither books, nor movies. I just borrow them and try to give them back in one piece later. I make no money with this story. Please, do not sue me.

Chapter 19 – Homewards

With the coming of the morrow the storm had passed, leaving behind fallen trees, burned branches and mud. The late spring sun was melting the grey clouds, chasing them away and leaving the sky open and as blue as a winter lake.

The wet grass had begun to dry in the weak sunlight, mist rising from the earth and swirling about the trees in the forest. The air was clean and fresh, the moisture of the previous days gone. But although the sun had awoken again and embraced life itself for the first time in days, the temperature was still low and therewith chilly and cold.

Woken by the suns rays, some birds had come out of their shelters, shaking the wetness out of their feathers and spreading their wings wide to bathe in the little warmth that they could get, some of them already singing their songs and welcoming the end of the storm.

It had taken the elves the whole night to set up a provisory camp, consisting of some fires and a few shelters made out of branches to at least hold back some of the rain, which had proved hopeless. During the night, as the rain had continued to fall, albeit in a drizzle; the water had been everywhere. It had soaked through their cloaks and tunics, leaving the clothes wet and cold, making even the proud warriors of Imladris feel unpleasant.

The small fires that they had created sputtered in the rain and only the long trained skill of the elves had prevented them from surrendering to the wetness of the night. After fetching the horses and securing the animals near the camp, the warriors had taken care of them, as the loyal beasts were as wet, cold and hungry as they were after a long night without proper care.

The few hunters that had yielded to them had been bound securely and taken away from the camp, deeper into the woods, where some of the elves would guard them. The elves did not wish the humans near the camp, where the wounded were being treated. It was not fitting that the hunters share the camp with them.

And wounded there had been, not many and not severe injuries, but an arrow here and there had found its mark. It was nothing that a trained elven warrior was not capable of handling and therefore the Lord of Imladris had been able to solely concentrate on his sons and Legolas while Glorfindel had taken care of all other matters, for which Elrond was very thankful.

It had taken them long to return to the place of the battle. After they had sat under the moon for some time, Elrond holding his son tight and Legolas and Glorfindel recovering from the near fatal fall that the young ones had almost suffered, Elrond had realeased his hold onto the man only to find that he would have crumpled to the ground without the strong arms around his chest.

Worry and fear had gripped the Lords heart with icy fingers and when Estel had tried to assure his father that he was all right, a heavy coughing fit and sized the ranger, letting him gasp for air and tremble uncontrollably. Sweat had broken out on his brow and when the coghing would not stop, Elrond had tried to sooth him and had rubbed his back in small circles, relaxing the muscles and therewith calming his son´s breathing and finally stopping the coughing fit.

Estel had swallowed tickly, his breathing still laboured and when Elrond had felt his forehead, the fever that had settled in his son´s body could not be longer ignored. As could not the paleness that had stolen itself on the ranger´s features or the trembling that still raced through the mortal body.

Glancing to his loyal advisor, Elrond saw his own worry and fear reflect in the elf´s eyes and he nodded. They needed to get Estel away from the cold, the water and the biting wind.

Carefully wrapping his arms around his son´s waist and slowly pulling him up to his feet, Elrond felt the man lean heavily on him, more than he would normally do. Another bolt of fear flashed through him and the healer and father in him debated whether he should perhaps just lift his boy into his arms and rush with him to shelter.

But then, Estel straightened his back and put more weight on his own two feet and after giving Taran into the care of Glorfindel, although not without a small whimper of disappointment from the child, the three elves and two humans made their way back to the others.

More then once the tired and exhausted ranger stumbled on the wet ground and Elrond needed to wrap his arms more fiercely around his son to keep him upright. When he did so, the man would flinch slightly and gasp, but when the elf asked him what was wrong, he only said that that was indeed a long story.

With every step they took, the youngest Elrondion leaned more heavily on his fahter and by the time they had reached the place of battle, Elrond was more carrying him than the ranger was walking on his own.

After returning, Estel in his fathers arms and Legolas being helped by Glorfindel, the waiting elves had sighed almost in unison, relieved that their friends had survived.

Elladan, and the by now awoken Elrohir, had first embraced their brother and friend as strongly as they had dared, only to lecture them shortly afterwards for their foolishness and recklessness. But the more they reprimanded them, the more relieved they felt and both Estel and Legolas knew that it was the twins' way of showing how much they truly cared for them.

When Estel had started to sway on his feet, his injured leg trembling, Elrond had decided that he really needed to examine his youngest, now.

Giving the twins one of his stern looks, he had placed his strong hands onto his youngest son´s shoulders and keeping him upright had steered him into the direction of a huge tree with dense foliage, hoping that the tree would provide shelter from the rain.

It had taken the elven lord a long time to examine his son and as the injuries Estel had sustained were revealed before his eyes, the father in Elrond had felt his tender heart contract in sympathy. He did not know what had transpired during the ranger's captivity and he was not even sure if his son would ever tell him, but he knew that his youngest had suffered more than the young human should have.

As the healer had taken a look at the injured left arm, where the fire had burned the skin, he had felt nauseous and Elrond had not felt that way in hundreds of years. It was a wonder to him that Estel was still conscious, as even the slightest touch to the arm must have sent fire through the human's body. But when the elf had touched the arm, his son had only cringed in pain, not even uttering a moan or groan.

His mortal son's slight apathy had caused the mighty elven lord to check him again for fever and as his slender hand had rested on Estel's forehead, the elf had felt that the fever his son was suffering from had risen since the last time he had checked it. The fever, the injuries, the strain of the night and the rain and cold, all that could have caused the human to fall into a state of lethargy, but perhaps his son also suffered from shock.

This way or the other, Elrond had bound the arm as good as he had been able to in the scarce light and had then tended to the arrow wound on his son's leg. From the twins he had heard that the arrow tip was still firmly embedded into the flesh, as they had not been able to remove it. In the middle of the night, while thunder still rolled and the fires cast flickering shadows, the healer found it too dangerous to remove it and so Elrond consented himself with wrapping the leg securely in heavy bandages. While he bound it, the ranger gasped for pain, his face turning slightly grey, the eyes securely shut to ward of the pain the ministrations caused.

On the one hand the mighty lord of Imladris felt sorry to cause his youngest so much pain, but even this small gesture of emotion lifted his heart. Perhaps Estel was not suffering from shock, but rather was too exhausted and tired to bring up the energy to scream out his pain. Placing a slender hand on his son´s brow, Elrond gently wiped away some strands of dark hair and soothed his aching son, trying to relax him. The best Estel could do now was rest and let his body regain what he had lost over the last days.

As the rain was still falling and the night was cold and windy, the elf did not deem it good to remove his son´s tunic to take a closer look at the broken rib Elladan had told him about when they returned to the camp or if his youngest had sustained others injuries to his chest. It would have to wait until the morning and as the man had not shown any signs of internal injuries, the healer in Elrond overrode the concerned father and he conceded himself with running his hand over the ribs to make sure that only one was truly broken.

During all the ministrations, the ranger had sat on the ground, his back resting at the tree behind him, flinching from time to time but overall very still and quiet, except for the moment when Elrond had treated the arrow wound on his leg. The slight red touch to the man´s otherwise pale face and the shine that could be seen in the human´s eyes had been enough to show the elven lord that his youngest was in a worse condition than he had first thought.

When the elven lord had finished tending to his son, he had wrapped him in as many blankets as he had been able to find, keeping the human warm and therewith fighting the fever as well as the shock, if Estel truly suffered from it. Better to be careful than sorry.

Bidding Elladan to prepare a fever-reducing and infection-stemming draught, Elrond bade Elrohir to sit with his brother to keep him company and to fight the ennui in the young mortal's body, which the elf had done willingly, happy to be with his younger brother again.

Legolas had been harder to convince than Estel and only after Elrond's most stern look had the archer allowed to be tended. The wound on the prince's side had reopened and needed to be stitched once more, but as it was the light was not enough to do so and the healer, again, had only the option to wash and bind it. Amazingly, the Mirkwood archer had not sustained any other serious injuries despite some shallow scratches and abrasions.

Ordering the younger elf to eat something and to rest, Elrond left his sons, Legolas and the by now sleeping human child to find Glorfindel and hear about the rest of the warriors.

He had not been gone for long, but when he returned to the huge tree, he had found Estel deep asleep in Elrohir's arms, protected by the younger twin who had also succumbed to a light slumber. Taran was half resting on Estel's chest and half in Elrohir's arms, a sight truly to behold. Elladan and Legolas were asleep too, their eyes glazed over in elvish slumber.

Spreading out a large blanket over "his" children, the Lord of Imladris took a seat near them all and watched them sleep peacefully, his gaze never leaving them until the rain stopped, the stars faded and the weak morning sun filtered through the treetops onto the sleeping family below.

The day turned out to be a painful one, not only for the wounded warriors and Estel, but also for Elrond, the twins and Legolas. With the sunlight and the dryness of the day, the lord had set to work first on Legolas' injuries, as they were the easier to tend, giving the ranger some more moments of sleep.

When the healer had finally set to work on his son's arm and leg, the true seriousness of the injuries had been revealed and Elrond had had no other possibility than to drug Estel with a pain-reducing potion to keep him as still as possible while the elf removed the tip of the arrow and cleaned and bandaged the arm, taking care of the arrow wound, which Elrond himself had created.

Seeing the wound his own arrow had made left the elven healer slightly trembling, a state that was practically unknown to everyone who knew Elrond. The ranger's foster father had not been able to meet his son's gaze, guilt tearing at his heart and making him weak. Only when Estel reached out, placing his finger under his father's chin to lift it, did he meet his son's still feverish eyes and what he saw there, forgiveness, reassurance and love, stilled the trembling of his hands and a part of the ache in his heart. But Elrond knew, deep inside, that it would take him longer to heal than just one day.

The day which was spent healing and resting passed slowly and when the moon appeared in the sky, painting the world silver and surreal, Elrond found himself again at his family's side. But this night, he would rest too, assured that he was, now that the wounds were seen to and would heal in time, both physically and mentally.

Stretching out on a blanket near Elladan, he lay back and gazed at the blinking stars above him, listening to the sounds of the night and the deep breathing of his children. All was quiet and still, the night perfect in its simplicity.

When the elven lord felt his eyes slowly glaze over and his mind reaching out to the realm of elven sleep, a soft sound floated to his sensitive ears, pulling him back to the night and the figures beside him. Sitting up on his elbows, he looked to the side, trying to discern the source of the noise.

A soft movement brought his attention to Elrohir, who, covered by a blanket, was sleeping peacefully between his brothers. Then, in the sparkling moonlight, the elf saw that the movement had not been caused by his son, but by the small adan child who had been lying on top of Elrohir's chest, deep asleep.

Now, as Elrond watched, the small child moved again, lightly thrashing in the blanket, trapped in a nightmare it seemed. A soft sound escaped the boy's lips, sounding frightened and Elrond wondered for a moment whether he had truly heard the word "anger", of if that had just been his imagination.

One way or another, the father and healer in Elrond could not see the small child so disturbed. Reaching out, he gently removed the blanket from around the child and then took him into his own arms, careful not to wake Elrohir, who had also moved in his sleep as Elrond had replaced the blanket around his son's shoulders to stave off the cold of the night.

Taran, woken from his nightmare by the elven lord, looked at the lord with sleepy eyes that reflected the moonlight that waved through the leaves of the trees. Old eyes met young ones and the elf felt the child rest his head against his shoulder as he rested the child in his arms.

Taran again murmered something, but the elf did not understand the child. Rubbing his hand is soothing circles over the boy´s back, the lord whispered soothing words into the child´s ear and felt the boy relax in his arms.

For a moment he wondered what had changes Taran´s attitude towards elves, but deep inside he already knew the answer. His youngest had done that, and the twins and Legolas. Smiling slightly, the elven lord thought back on the day when Estel had arrived in Imladris, scared and unhappy, unwilling to let himself be comforted and how he had held Estel almost the same way he was holding Taran now one night. It had somehow opened his youngest to the elves and after that night, Estel had started to truly be a son of Elrond.

Soon, the little adan was fast asleep again, this time without disturbing nightmares. Lying back down onto the blanket and stretching out his long legs, the lord looked back at the star covered sky and before he let himself walk in the realm of elvish sleep, he sent a silent prayer to the Valar and thanked them for keeping an eye on his family and friends and bringing them all back to him.

Xoxoxoxo

"No."

"Ada, what could possibly happen?"

"Estel, I have said it before and I say it again. Either you take the party of elves with you, or you won't go at all."

It was early morning in the elven haven that was Imladris, the sun peaking up behind the mountains and the birds singing their songs as they soared over the valley. The sky was azure blue and not a single cloud could be seen. Flowers of all kinds and colors were blossoming, filling the air with their scent and soothing both the body and soul.

Well, almost everybody, that was. Breakfast in the Last Homely House had been strained that day, Estel and his foster father arguing throughout the meal. Neither the young ranger nor the Elf Lord were stepping down from their opinions and the fact that the twins were playing deaf and that Legolas, after receiving a pleading look from his human friend, had claimed diplomatic immunity, taking this as a token that he would not have to intervene, did not help matters either.

On that very day, the twins, Legolas and Estel, and if Elrond had his way, a party of skilled warriors from Imladris, would take little Taran to Bree to meet the boy's parents.

After they had all returned to Imladris, Elrond had sent elves to Bree to learn of the child's parents and to deliver the rest of the hunterst to the local authorities there and truly, after some searching they had found them and convinced them that Taran was safe and the threat gone.

Of course, Torian and his wife had wanted to go to Imladris themselves to fetch their son, but the long travel through the forest and then back to Bree would have been dangerous for both parents and child. Therefore, Elrond had suggested that the elves bring the boy to Bree.

The lord of Imladris hoped that the man, Torian, would be able to tell them why Dagnir had tried to kill him, using the man's only child to do so. The letter that they had found had shed some light on the matter, but the elf needed to know more to ease his heart's desire to know why his sons and Legolas had been put through this ordeal. And, Elrond was sure Torian was the only one who could tell them, as Dagnir had taken his motives to his grave. From a letter Elrond had received from Taran's father, the elf lord knew that the man was willing to tell his story and that, when his sons and the prince returned from Bree, he would learn of the full tale.

His sons and Legolas had volunteered, naturally, although Estel's left arm was still a bit stiff and he limped slightly, which he tried to hide from his father and friends, without success, as usual. Furthermore, the illness the man had suffered from had not helped his condition. From the beginning Elrond had made his son drink various potions and teas, which were designed to ease the coughing fit and sooth the throat, but it had taken many days for the ichty feeling in the rangers throat to subside.

Still, Estel was coughing from time to time, but since the day the fever had left his body, he had begun to recover. His father had ordered him strict bed rest for a week and the warmth of the bed back home in Imladris and the constant care and mothering from the twins had truly helped his health.

Sooner than Elrond had though possible, the man had started to refuse the potions, claiming that they tasted "as if something had died in the tea pot". And the fact that Legolas had been allowed out of bed after the first day, the stab wound almost healed had not improved the sitation. When Elrohir had joined his older brother and the prince in "mothering their little human", Estel had been loath to stay in bed any longer.

His father could not tell from which illness, or rather illnesses, the ranger had suffered, but they were all very glad when Estel had passed a day withoutone of the coughing fits and Elrond was sure that the small cough here and there would vanish with time. It had been a sign that the human was on the mend and no one had been happier than Estel when his father had finally allowed him out of bed. That had been two days ago.

Elrond, having agreed that his youngest may accompany the elves to Bree, as he was the one who had been with Taran through most of the ordeal, had suggested, no, ordered, that they take a party of warriors with them, in case anything should happen.

Of course, the ranger disagreed, the party of elves giving him the feeling that he was not capable of looking after himself. But Elrond, knowing his sons and Legolas very well, did not want to take the risk, not after what had happened. So, his youngest and he had started breakfast arguing and had finished breakfast arguing. Now, as the time of leaving for Bree drew nearer, the elven lord had had enough.

Straightening to his full height and narrowing his eyes in his most stern façade, he looked at his youngest son and said: "Estel, you take the party of warriors with you, or you won't go at all. Is that understood, my son?"

Opening his mouth to retort, Estel found he could not, as a slender hand was placed over his mouth from behind, preventing him from speaking. Soft words were whispered in his ear, so soft that only he could hear them: "Estel, mellon nin. Saes (please), let it be. Your ada is just concerned. Grant him a peaceful sleep while we are away."

Glancing at Legolas who was leaning over his shoulder and then back to his father, Estel inwardly sighed, but nodded nevertheless. Legolas was right. His father had worried enough over the last weeks. What were a few days within the company of warriors – which would surely watch his every step, Estel was sure of that – in comparison to a father at peace?

Smiling, the blond archer released his hold on his friend and the man, looking at his father said smiling: "All right Ada, we will take the warriors with us, as you wish it."

Elrond, not really believing what he had just heard, lifted an elegant eyebrow and met the prince's gaze, who only shrugged slightly, still smiling softly.

And so it came that a party of elven warriors, the twins, Legolas and Estel, who carried Taran, rode out of the cobbled courtyard and then over the stone bridge of Imladris, leaving the Last Homely House behind them and entering the green and lively forest that would lead them to Bree, the sun on their backs and the wind under the hooves of their horses.

As he did every time his sons left the elven haven, Elrond stood on his beloved balcony, following the riders until they vanished behind leafy underbrush and green trees, hidden from his keen elvish sight.

More sensing than hearing his old friend coming up besides him, he turned his head slightly to Glorfindel and nodded in acknowledgement, before he turned his gaze back towards the woods that surrounded the valley.

For long moments neither of them spoke, but then the blond haired advisor chuckled softly, a sound not known to many ears. Turning to face his friend, an eyebrow crooked in astonishment, Elrond asked: "And what, pray tell, my friend, is so funny?"

Not even trying to stifle his mirth, Glorfindel took a breath and answered, his voice wavering between amusement and seriousness, a mixture well known to both elven lords: "My friend, do you really think a party of warriors will be capable of keeping your sons and Legolas out of trouble?"

Ever so slowly, the corners of Elrond's mouth started to twitch and then, after a moment, the elven Lord allowed the grin to spread over his face. Turning back to the trees, he sighed deeply and then snorted softly, a sound very much un-elflike and surely not befitting a millennia old elf lord. "Oh, my friend, how right you are. I think not even all the Valar together would be able to keep those four from harm. But, I have to try, have I not? What else can a father do?"

They stood for more long moments, each one lost in his own musings, the sun slowly rising and the soft wind caressing the young leaves and flowers, rustling the grass and making the water in the small ponds ripple, sending small droplets of water, shining like little diamonds in the sun, flying through the air beside the fountain in the courtyard.

Finally, Elrond turned, followed by Glorfindel, and headed to his study. There were papers to sign, treaties to read and letters to finish. But in his mind, he was far away, thinking of the day that he would next stand on his beloved balcony, overlooking the bridge and the courtyard.

Because that would be the day his sons, Elladan, Elrohir and Estel, together with Legolas, would come back from Bree, and would finally be at home again.

End of chapter 19

The end

Well, it was had been an honor for me to write this for you and I will miss all the nice reviews. Hopefully and with a bit help of the Valar, we will meet later again with another story or the sequel to this story, which is in the process of planning.

Namarie, mellyn nin,

Imaginigma