I Will Always Return

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Long Awaited Reunion

Elladan sat with his back against the pole of the tent, resting. He had stopped trying to follow his brother and friend. It wasn't easy for him to admit defeat, but here it was impossible not to. Sighing, he pressed the back of his head against the pole, looking pleadingly heavenwards, as though seeing through the tent roof.

Normally leaning against a tent pole was not a good idea, even in a well constructed and sturdy tent, but this case was an exception. Elladan was thin and frail looking, as though the smallest tap might shatter him. As a matter of fact, he gave a Barrow-Wight a good bit of competitionfor the title of the"most weightless being in all worlds".

He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't think coherently…he was simply existing, caught somewhere between the Halls of Mandos and Hell. He couldn't find an escape route and even if he did, he was sure that he would be far too weary to drag himself more than a few tenths of a centimetre. And that was if he was lucky and found some reserve energy somewhere. He felt as though he was made of lead and was sinking slowly in a deep, deep, pool of cold molasses. Helpless.

At first he had tried to deny the situation, but that had become tiresome and it was so much easier to simply accept. Reacting stole so much energy from him.

Elladan may have resembled a wraith, but the boy was putting on weight already. Just a few days of kindness, a friend, and a role model had worked wonders in his complexion and demeanour. His face was looking brighter and fuller and his clothes didn't hang on him like he was some sort of clothes hanger.

Elladan smiled down at him affectionately, feeling the young human leaning against his side and snuggling against him. His small movements were hardly disturbing to Elladan's wound and his face took on a lost expression. The child suddenly seemed to bear a very strong resemblance to Estel and the innocence he had once seen so radiantly in his younger brother. His smile turned sad as he realized that this boy was almost grown, he would change. The only person he saw as being perpetually innocent was Rothinzil, because he never let a situation change him. His heart was always going to be pure, especially since Helluin had sealed it.

Suddenly, he sat up slightly, rousing the youth at his side, who lifted his head and blinked blearily. Bringing his world into focus, he stared up questioningly at the Elf he had come to see as a brother and protector in these last few days. "Elladan…what is happening?" His sleep laden voice trailed off as he yawned openly.

Elladan frowned, but didn't look down at the youth. "I –I don't know." If the child had known him, he would have laughed uproariously. Elladan never, ever, under any circumstances, let on that he knew absolutely nothing. If Elrohir were here or Estel they would –oh, Eru, but they weren't here, Elladan remembered somewhat dreamily.

"Elladan, there is horses!" The boy's voice was more coherent and he struggled up, putting most of his weight on his good leg. The youth swayed and then stabilized himself by clutching a sturdy looking tent pole.

Elladan felt the ground vibrating, and his Elven hearing picked up the nickering of the animals. However, it all seemed to be a adding to this horrible nasty dream that he couldn't wake from, no matter how hard he tried. There was a box, he realized, and he was locked in it and was slowly suffocating. There was no air, no relief, no light, only sounds: horses, wind, grasses shifting, and voices cutting like knives through his haze. No matter how many times his fists pummelled against the sides of the cube he was still trapped inside and he seemed to only hurt himself. Who had ever thought a box could play so unfair?

Looking up at the boy with an almost pleading expression softening his eyes, he asked softly, "Help me up?" He looked like a child staring searchingly at his mother through a nightmarish haze.

The youth considered him, obviously hesitating. "T-that didn't work out too well before…you need to rest."

Elladan glared adamantly. "Penneth, if you do not help me up I will do it myself!"

There was nothing that the poor boy could do, except try by every means possible to persuade the Elf to remain seated…on the ground where there was precious little chance for falling.

When nothing proved effective, the boy planted his hands on the Elf's shoulders and pressed downward. This was horribly sad, Elladan realized as he admitted to himself that he had been pinned down by a scrawny boy. Oh yes, this was a sad state of affairs indeed…

"You are going to hurt yourself, Elladan!" he pleaded desperately as the Elf squirmed in his grip, motivated by the encroaching sounds of the riders. The sounds of the horses snorted and pawing as they thundered into the small camp resounded in his head and seemed to vibrate in his body. But that blasted box was still trapping him…despair, pain, confusion, regret…so many emotions had been boxed up with him.

Yes, he knew that he was going to hurt himself, but that didn't really matter. He was dying anyway, was he not? Elladan stopped arguing and fighting as he heard a soft rustling sound and a blast of cool air barrelled through the room as the tent flap was thrust open.

Rothinzil poked his head around it, staring anxiously around. "We're back, Elladan." His voice was soft and it looked as though he had cried at one point. His hair was tussled and his soft hazel eyes were bleary with lack of sleep. It looked as though the word enthusiasm was not only eliminated from his vocabulary but from his entire being. He also looked a bit thinner than Elladan had last remembered him being.

Blinking, Roth observed the boy restraining the dark-haired Elf and smiled sympathetically around a yawn. He wished the child the best of luck. He was trying to accomplish something that no healer had been able to perform. Backing away, he held the tent flap open long enough to Legolas and Aragorn to be carried in on their stretchers.

Both were fast asleep…at least it looked like sleep, but Elladan couldn't be certain.

"Elrohir?" he whispered quietly into the air, crestfallen. Closing his eyes, he relaxed and leaned against the tent pole, trying to fathom what had just happened. His brother had not returned.

The boy just gulped quietly and slumped down beside the elder twin, comfortingly leaning against him. He had escaped pain, had he not? His father was no longer oppressing him. He had found a mentor and friend. Why did everyone he cared about get hurt? This just wasn't fair! Images of his dead mother skipped through his head, the pain only enhanced by the frustration of the moment. While resting and watching over Elladan, the elder twin had told him of Amras and Amrod, Noldorian twins who had met their end together at the battle of the Mouths of Sirion during the First Age. At least they had died together…but if Elrohir was dead, that meant that he and his brother, who was practically the other half of his soul, were parted.

"Elladan," a calm, tired voice called warmly from the tent door.

Elrohir smiled weakly, his proud shoulders were slumped with exhaustion. It had been all he could do to keep Legolas and Aragorn alive during their journey here and he had not slept since their liberation from their captors.

Elladan's eyes opened slowly, one at a time, as though he was afraid of the possibility that this was all an illusion wrought of his false hope and high-strung emotions. "It can't be you, you must be dead."

"Well I know I am somewhat lacking in colour, gwador nîn, and I may feel dead, but I am most certainly alive." The boy stared at the other Elf and taking a clue, stood up and provided Elrohir with room to sit and wrap his arms around his elder brother.

Elladan lingered in the warm, real, palpable, true, pure embrace of his brother that could be nothing other than genuine. Elrohir buried his nose in his brother's hair and held him close, mindful of his wound. He felt his brother's hand settle over his heart and press gently against his chest, feeling for his heart beat.

Elladan's voice was weak, but alarmed. "Your heart is racing." Now he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was his twin in flesh and blood.

Elrohir nodded, resting his chin on his elder brother's head. "I was scared. I was afraid you might die while I was gone." He closed his eyes. "Scared" or "afraid" were both horrible understatements. He had been terrified almost beyond reason.

"You know me…too stubborn to quit," Elladan murmured, leaning into his brother.

"I have never been more grateful for that quality in you, rest assured," Elrohir teased, attempting to restore some of the jesting that was his trademark. He wanted things to return to normal as quickly as possible, and even if this was a little step, it was still a step. Never again would he tempt the Valar by admitting that he was bored. He would warn Legolas and Aragorn that it was not a good idea as well. One more misadventure like this he knew he would either age before his time or meet Mandos up close and personal, neither of which sounded overly appealing.

Elladan attempted a chuckle that quickly turned into a raspy cough. "Why are they so pale?" he managed between wheezes.

Elrohir continued holding Elladan close and the elder Elf felt his brother's breathing pause. Elrohir let it out into a long sigh that warmed Elladan's hair so that Elladan looked up at him, slightly annoyed. "They have achieved the impossible again –and eluded death by the skin of their teeth after dancing a jig in front of it and flaunting the fact that they are still alive in its face. Despite its best attempts, they are holding on."

He pushed away from Elladan and observed him from arm's length. "What happened to Estel?" Elladan asked, making an attempt to elude his brother's grasp and stand on his own power. He failed miserably.

Elrohir swallowed. "He was stabbed in the abdomen."

Elladan immediately tensed. A fool would know that getting stabbed in the abdominal area was extremely bad, but a healer knew more than that. A healer knew why. Elladan was, of course, trained in the healing arts, with more than half of the credit going to Elrond for his instruction. Forgetting that Elrohir had taken the same training, he lashed out, "You have to let me see him! What have you done so far-"

"All that is possible considering the circumstances. I am his older brother too." Elrohir couldn't help but feel a bit hurt.

"You will not keep me from seeing him!" Elladan warned in a low voice.

"He will be fine, I can assure you both," a barely audible voice interjected calmly from the stretcher.

Elrohir whirled around and Elladan peered in shock over his shoulder. "I thought I had drugged you!" the younger twin exclaimed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Legolas smiled deviously, at least as devious as he was able given the circumstances. "Somehow your concoction eluded me."

"I don't know what surprises me more," Elrohir growled, "the fact that you were able to avoid being drugged or the fact that you have been sleeping on your own power."

"This time there is no denying that I am most definitely not fine," Legolas replied smoothly, closing his eyes. His fingers that held Aragorn's wrist monitored the man's pulse closely. He couldn't recall but one other time when he had been in decidedly worse shape.

Now Elrohir was speechless. Legolas had admitted to being unwell. What was next? Flying pigs? The Nazgúl turning over a new leaf? "That is true, but what makes you think that Aragorn is going to be fine? Your illness has made you delusional."

Legolas smiled, pulling back his unnaturally thin looking lips that seemed anything but a healthy colour. "I have been…monitoring his pulse." Elrohir had thought that his face could not look anymore incredulous, but he knew that he was wrong when he raised both of his brows nearly into his hair line. "Well it is a better way to spend time…then trying to count sheep …and twice as reassuring."

"You are never going to cease to amaze me, are you?" Elrohir asked darkly, irritated.

"No," Legolas agreed quietly. "Never."

Elrohir nodded tiredly. "That is what I thought." Elladan just smiled. Legolas may be a nutcase at times, he decided inwardly, but he was the most loyal nutcase that he had ever met –and he had met a lot of nutcases. Legolas was numbered among the few that didn't fall under the categories of psychotic or monomaniac.

Elrohir was moving to tend to Aragorn and change his dressings when Roth brushed through the tent flap, his arms full of a heaping mound of bandages. "I thought we might need these."

"How very perceptive," Elrohir muttered a bit sarcastically.

"I got them from the healers," Roth continued on as though Elrohir had never said a single word. "However they refuse to come in here…something about Elladan being unreasonable and insufferable."

Shaking his head as he pulled aside the cloak covering Aragorn, Elrohir mumbled, "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Rothinzil smiled wryly. "I was just asking myself the same question."

Elladan refused to be baited and frowned, closing his eyes wearily. He was considering lying down, only considering mind you, but the choice was made for him. Rothinzil dumped his load of bandages beside Aragorn and Legolas before grabbing Elladan's shoulders and easing the other Elf to the ground. "Now who is being…insufferable?" the elder twin questioned sarcastically, and stared up at the warrior.

Rothinzil just flashed a guilty grin. "They never complained about me though."

Elladan shifted and he followed Roth with his eyes as the warrior went to Legolas' side. "That is obviously because they hardly know you at all."

Roth glowered scathingly at Elladan as he crouched to the ground. "You wound me, Lord Elladan."

The boy who had remained silent until now ventured a small snicker. Roth smiled appreciatively. "Well Elladan wasn't so bad…" the boy jested good-naturedly with the Elves, "…when he was sleeping."

Elladan looked completely indignant and stared disbelievingly at the youth. First of all, the scrawny creature had barely spoken ten words together through the entire time here, and secondly…he had always seemed so nice!

Roth nodded approvingly. "That I do believe."

Finally, Legolas intervened weakly. "I don't mean to interrupt your …game of Elladan-baiting, but…I think the…priorities need to be …considered here."

Roth looked appalled at his own behaviour and flushed a dark red, so that he could have been mistaken for having severe sunburn. "Sorry, my lord!"

"See if you can't go ahead...and put him…out, Roth," Elladan requested seriously from his blanket.

Roth seemed uncomfortable with the idea and Legolas gave him a forbidding scowl that promised a slow, aggravated death if he attempted anything close to that idea. Shuddering inwardly, Roth shook his head. "I choose life," he explained to Elladan.

There was a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a snicker from the pallet and Roth's flush spread to the tips of his leaf-shaped ears. Irritated, he ignored Elladan and pulled the cloak that served as a light coverlet away from Legolas' chest and abdomen to reveal the multiple bandages and ugly bruises. Wincing inwardly with sympathy, the warrior applied his fingers to the old dressings and gently began to pull them free and unwind them. Legolas suddenly tensed and Roth jerked back, stammering apologies. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Legolas grimaced and shrank away from the other Elf. "Your hands are cold," he whined seriously, eyeing Roth darkly. "Are you all right?"

"No, not really, my lord," Rothinzil answered dolefully as he pulled off the blood-wetted linen strips, careful not to upset the raw skin beneath them. He grimaced as he saw the abrasions seeping blood along with other disagreeable fluids. "I am worried about you."

He cleared his throat in a way that sounded suspiciously like he was hiding a cough. Faint annoyance and maybe pain crossed his face but he blinked it away. Concerned, Legolas reached out a hand and caught Roth's forearm. "Are you sure that you are fine?"

Roth smiled reassuringly. "Of course, my lord! It's just a small cough –I don't understand how I got it," he admitted as an afterthought. He applied more smelly ointments to Legolas' wounds and swathed him in fresh bandages.

Legolas continued to stare at him expectantly and Roth frowned. "If you expect me to kiss you good-night you are going to be sorely disappointed."

Legolas arched a brow and then shook his head so minutely that it was barely noticeable. "No, don't be ridiculous!" Turning completely serious, he narrowed his eyes demandingly. "I know about your wrist and you are going to let Elrohir see to it when he is finished with Aragorn."

Roth gapped, flabbergasted. "I must protest…my wrist is fine and of no importance anyway, my lord!"

Legolas had grabbed hold if it gently and he undid the buttons of Roth's tunic cuffs, revealing a dark bruise on the underside of the wrist where the man had stomped on it. "It is …important to me, Roth! …You will have it looked at!"

Roth nodded hesitantly. "As you wish, my lord." He withdrew his arm from Legolas' grip and awkwardly buttoned the cuffs again with his left hand –or at least he tried to. His fingers fumbled with them and Legolas swatted his hand away as though it was a blood-sucking insect. His white fingers shakily buttoned the cuff back up and Roth smiled thinly. "Thank you, my lord."

Legolas returned to smile, though it was weaker. "It is the least I can do. You came for me and Strider. You could have been killed…I know you were shot! We owe you and Strider's brothers with our lives."

Roth pulled his legs out from underneath him and sat down crossed-legged by Legolas' head. Putting his elbows on his knees, he cupped his chin in his hands and sighed quietly with discontent. He missed Helluin.

Elrohir was looking sorrowfully at Aragorn's deep, ugly wound. Thankfully, the less than likeable man who had stabbed him was not intelligent enough to poison it, but it was perfectly capable of being evil all on its own. Gently, ever so gently, rinsed the wound thoroughly with lukewarm water and applied some soothing ointments to the hot, inflamed flesh around the wound. Aragorn moaned in response and a full body shudder wracked his frame so that Elrohir drew back in alarm.

Legolas turned his head and looked concernedly at Aragorn, blinking to clear the blurry image of his friend's white face. Suddenly he smiled slightly, and Elrohir followed his gaze to Aragorn's lips. They were turning a warm, but pale red and gradually getting darker. He was getting better.

Legolas fingers groped for Aragorn's wrist and he gently touched the inflamed skin, feeling for the murmuring pulse that fluttered beneath. He found it, slow and sure and his smile broadened. It was gaining strength. "He is going to live, mellon nîn."

"Couldn't…leave the…stup'd…woo'elf…to…kill 'mself," Aragorn murmured weakly, his lips barely moving to articulate the words. The sentence was his way of saying what Legolas had just said. That everything was going to be all right. That he was going to live and that no one need fear.

Elrohir's face lit up radiantly at the meagre words and Elladan lifted his head to look at where his human brother lay. Roth jerked his head up and Legolas merely smiled knowingly. The boy jumped slightly and then grinned.

That was when Roth knew that everything was going to be all right. Soon Estel would return home and soon everything that was so terribly wrong would be set right. He knew it.

TBC...

Oh, they are back together...or are they? Hmmmm... And what is so terribly wrong? Eh? Yes, yes, we are evil. We know. :Grins from behind baracade made completely of tea boxes:

Please review! We loved your reviews from the last chapter, as always they were so encouraging and wonderful! Thanks a million everyone! (((hugs))) We tried to respond to them all, but if you were missed and left an e-mail or were signed in, please let us know! We promise that it was never intentional! ;)

Quick note: The title of the chapter was inspired by the chapter in The Fellowship of the Ring called "A Long Expected Party". We just thought it would make the chapter more..."Tolkien-ish". LOL