Chapter Fourteen: Matters of the Heart.
He felt sick as he felt consciousness take over. Somehow, laying deep in slumber felt better then the sick agonizing feeling he felt when he awoke. His heart tugged at him to wallow in self-pity, but his mind somehow did not take heed to his heart. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and they quivered slightly under his weight. Glaring at his arms and their weakness, he slowly realized that he was at home. Glancing around he noticed he was not in his own chambers, but in the healing wings of Rivendell.
"How in all of Arda did I get here?" He muttered confused. Memory resurfaced like a tidal wave. His whole body froze in shock and realization. His body broke out in a cold sweat, causing him to shiver and fall back onto the soft mattress with a grunt. Gasping in deep breaths, he curled himself up into a tight ball, and scrunched his eyes shut tight. Bile rose in his throat, and he jumped off the bed and scrambled to the small basin in the corner and felt the contents of his stomach release.
The door to the room opened just as he lay onto the cool floor and swallowed the vile taste grimacing noticeably. Cool hands touched his face, and pulled the stray strands of his damp hair off his forehead. A voice uttered something, and he couldn't quite understand what they were saying. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and looked into the deep blue ones of his father. He blinked a few times to make sure it was indeed his father.
He turned his head to the side as another voice joined his father's; causing him to wonder who else was in his room, witnessing the lowest point of his life. Thinking back on his youth, he couldn't remember when he had last been sick to the stomach. Groaning, he lifted his hand to his forehead and covered his eyes with his arm. Rolling onto his back, he felt the cool hands follow his movements, and mutter more incomprehensible words. Peering through his elbow he glared at his father, grunting out obscenities.
"Elrohir, relax, you are only making yourself feel worse."
"Stop uttering words I cannot understand, and I will relax." He moaned, curling into a ball once more as his stomach tightened. "OH sweet Elebereth!" He sat up quickly leaned over the basin again.
Elrond watched as his son bent over the basin and he shook his head at the man behind him dejectedly. "There is nothing more I can do to ease his grief." He whispered.
"Has he eaten since he has been back?" The man asked quietly.
Shaking his head, Elrond glanced back to his son who had once more laid his forehead to the cool stone tiles. "He has not eaten nor had anything to drink in several days." Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What will happen if his brother is not found?" The man asked kneeling beside the elf lord sadly.
Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, Elrond bit back a cry of despair. "He-he will pass to the halls of Mandos."
"Which means?" The man asked alarmed.
"He will die. He shows the early signs of grief, I have been able to hold off the effects with my herbs and teas, but they are loosing their effect." Elrond pushed his sons hair back repeatedly, caressing his cheeks.
"I don't understand. Is he ill from his wounds? Or was he poisoned? How can he die if he shows no signs of injury?"
"Matters of the heart, Cire. When an elf falls into despair and grief, there is little we can do to help them recover. They either recover on their own or pass from these lands to the glorious halls of Mandos." The elf lord paused briefly before continuing. "In this case, it is a bit different. Twins are rare in all races. In this case virtually impossible for elves. Because of my mortal blood, elven twins were born and are connected, as no elf sibling can ever comprehend."
Cire stared at the elf lord in disbelief.
"Elladan and Elrohir are not the first of elven twins to be born, nor I am certain to be the last, it is in their blood as in mine. However they are the first to be born with less mortal blood then my brother and I were. They shared the womb, and have lived so many years together with a surprising bond, that surely if one dies the other will eventually follow." Elrond sighed shaking his head. "Being a twin myself I know how close twins are, but my surprise was how close my son's are. That I will never understand."
Shaking his head along with the elf lord, Cire placed his hand on Elrohir's head. "How long does he have?"
"It depends on how strong Elladan remains, and how long Elrohir can hold onto their bond. If it severs completely, his death will be almost immediate."
"Where is your brother now?" Cire asked before he could bite his tongue.
"He died years ago." Elrond clenched his teeth tightly.
"Did you not feel grief and despair over his death? How is it you are still here and there is no hope for your son?" Cire felt anger beat through his veins.
"My bond with my brother was sundered the day we made our choice!" Elrond snapped. "My sons do not have that privilege yet!" He stood rapidly and stalked to the window. He needed fresh air to clear his mind. Anger and sadness wrapped itself around his heart. Thankfully, the men stayed sitting beside his son, rather then follow him as most men did.
Cire did not understand most of the elf's words, nor was he about to anger him again with more questions. Sadly, he looked at the frail looking youth on the floor and knew that he was lost in some battle within himself. Wiping Elrohir's head with a damp cloth he slowly smiled at the helplessness surrounding them. Placing the cloth aside, Cire gently picked the elfling up and carried him back to the bed. After placing Elrohir on the bed, he left the room quietly, leaving Elrond outside on the balcony.
Legolas, squinted his eyes looking over the landscape for signs of orks, and found none. He had been riding for little over a day without signs of the foul beasts anywhere. He started to feel lost, he gave Elrond his word that he would find his son, but there were still no signs. The camp the men had used when they had both the twins was empty, the only signs Legolas had found was horse tracks leading north away from Rivendell. He had been travelling alongside those tracks for almost a full day, and then they suddenly stopped. Growling in frustration, he jumped off his horse and retraced his steps back to where the hoof prints stopped. Although, now being close to the ground, he saw they didn't stop. The grass was flat from a form lying on it. Elrohir had been dragged, and found. Thinking rapidly, he tried to distinguish if it was Elrohir's frame, or Elladan's that laid here. Cire had said Elrohir had been dragged.
Glancing around him he saw blood splatters on a boulder nearby. The hoof tracks seemed to get stronger in the westward direction. Quickly getting to his feet, he mounted his horse and followed the newfound tracks.
As night fell, Legolas had found a new set of prints, one following the horses. Satisfied now he had found the trail, he grinned wickedly. His blood sped up, as his sense of battle now became apparent and he hurried his mount. He had found the orks trail, if he found them, he surely would find Elladan.
Lost in agonizing pain, he grunted as another foot connected with his midsection. The pain seemed less now, not as strong as it had when they had restarted their game. His eyes shed watery tears, and his mind screamed out to his fae. He lost consciousness. The presence of his brother's fae was weak, somehow further away then he had ever felt it. Elladan knew he had to reconnect with his brother to bring them both strength. Elrohir's presence was fading; he knew that.
Elladan couldn't loose his brother, he needed to fight and return home. As he followed the strands of their bond, he felt it shift under the nonexistent weight of his fae. Startled, he raced to the edge where his brother apparently waited, pounding on the barrier forcefully.
Touching his fingertips to the invisible wall, he saw tear stained eyes meet his. His brother smiled ecstatically. Grinning from ear to ear, he nodded and shook his head at the same time. There were no rules in their dream connection; anything was possible. Except the tight pull to bring him back to consciousness. Frowning, he closed his eyes. Looking back over his shoulder, at the blackened path, he turned his head to meet the eyes of his brother again. Sadly he whispered the words. "I am sorry, brother, for all the grief this has caused you. Do not fear for me." With out another word, he was yanked back into the darkness, hearing the wail of his brother echo after him.
Elrond scrambled into the room when his son cried out loudly. His son's voice was raw from crying, screaming and coughing. The agonizing wail that erupted from his son was enough to bring instant fear to his heart. The elf lord reached the bed in time to catch his son from falling back onto the mattress forcefully.
Elrohir gasped air into his lungs and sobbed his brother's name over and over, telling him not to give up. Elrond swallowed gathering his son in his arms and rocking him back and forth as he had not done since the twins had been elflings.
The door to the room banged open revealing a young guard who had heard the cry. "Milord?" He whispered seeing the two on the bed.
"Go find my wife." Elrond whispered. Glancing back down into his son's white face, he felt tears well up in them. "It is alright my son, soon you will be at peace." He whispered into Elrohir's ear. Elrond's heart thudded in his chest; he prayed that his wife would arrive in time to bid her son farewell.