Yep, I am still around! There's been some difficult months, but I finally have a new chapter to add to this story, and I fully intend to keep working on this tale until it is finished.

I want to mention that I can't recommend highly enough the non-profit, fan made film "Born of Hope" which tells the story of Aragorn's parents, Arathorn and Gilraen (just Google it and you'll find it easily enough). It is most certainly worth watching, and, as bonus, the sons of Elrond are in it! It certainly inspired me to start writing again.

This chapter is very dialogue heavy, but there is a lot going on—it builds on much of what I have written before and weaves in threads from many of my past stories, from "A Yearling Shoot" to "Day and Night" and "To Give Hope" and all the way back to "Touch." Finally, the twins start to open up to each other a bit, but obviously there is still a lot left to be resolved between them.

As always, I would very much like to hear what you think of this chapter—comments or critiques, what you liked or didn't, if you're still enjoying this and want to read more—anything really, it's just nice to know that people are reading.

"Mother? Mother!"

Elrohir heard the words, but knew not if he spoke them. Why was she here, now, in this place? She should be safe and far from this evil! But she was not. He had to protect her! Why then could he not move? Would he but stand by and watch helplessly?

With rising dread he realized that somehow he had fallen into sleep, and on this dark night, he did not wander at will through the peaceful path of elven dreams. Nay, he had been ensnared, caught in the thrall of a nightmare. Only in times of the deepest grief, when the strength of his body and mind was totally spent and absolute despair threatened to take him, did pure exhaustion pull him unwillingly into this state of slavery, this living death that was the sleep of Men. He always wondered at the way Men seemed more than resigned to endure their nightly affliction; indeed, they appeared at times to welcome, relish it, even. It was the one trait of his mortal inheritance he would quite willingly forgo if he were able. To him such sleep brought naught but horror. No peace could ever be found there again, not since…

No! He would not be dragged once more into this pit of utter evil! In desperation, he fought to regain control of his mind, to will his body to respond to his commands, to open his eyes and move his arms. As the veil of sleep began to lift and his senses returned to him, he became aware of the presence of another in his room. With a gasp, he instantly sat bolt upright in his bed, fully alert and searching for the intruder.

Upon seeing the silent and unmoving figure that stood at the open balcony doors, Elrohir released the breath he held with a sigh. "Elladan! What are you doing out there?"

His brother did not turn to face him, and his response was flat and devoid of emotion: "I could sense your distress from my room."

Clutching his head as if to dispel the horrific images that loomed there still, Elrohir responded quietly: "I dreamt of mother."

"I can not sleep," said the unmoving figure dully.

Concerned, Elrohir looked up to better study his brother. A foul wind blew fierce and cold through the open doors, and rain fell in torrents, assailing Elladan as he stood unwavering in the full force of the storm. Thoroughly soaked, his thin nightshirt clung to his chest like a translucent second skin, and his hair, wet and disheveled, stuck to his cheeks as water ran in steady streams down his face. He seemed not to notice as he stared blankly into the dark beyond the balcony.

"You are drenched! Come in here!"

A slight shake of his head was the only answer at first, but after a pause Elladan spoke, his voice emotionless and distant: "I like the rain. It feels...clean."

Usually so hot and quick with his temper, Elladan now seemed nothing but numb, empty almost, and Elrohir felt a profound chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He had seen his twin in such a state once before, and he had no desire to return again to the long and dreadful days that had followed. Did Elladan withdraw once more into that dark place where he had retreated after they had found their mother, defiled, disfigured, broken at the hands of those most vile servants of the Enemy? That place in his mind where an unseen yet grievous wound, inflicted by all the unspoken horrors he had witnessed and borne in his many long years, lurked, untreated and festering, until the time it might release its poison again? His brother stood on the brink, and Elrohir knew, despite the distance that had grown between them, he must find a way to reach him before it was too late.

Rising from his bed, he approached slowly, and as he put a hand on Elladan's arm he had to resist pulling away, for it felt as though all heat was drained from his brother's body. Elladan said nothing as Elrohir wrapped him in a thick, warm blanket, and with a gentle but sturdy grasp on his shoulders guided him to sit in a nearby armchair. Closing the doors firmly on the wind and rain, Elrohir came to kneel before his twin, taking ice cold hands in his own and searching eyes that seemed so frighteningly empty. "Elladan, please, speak to me."

"And what shall I tell you? In the face of all that has occurred, what use are words?"

"I beg you, brother, do not turn from me in sorrow and despair again! We both grieve. Can we not share our grief together? I know you are haunted as I am by horrors we can not escape, horrors forced upon us by our own traitorous minds. We are helpless to stop these foul memories, as vivid as if we relived them again--horrific images of what we saw… of Estel's unnatural torment at the hands of those abhorrent men... we were too late, far too late… of how we rushed to his aid, only to have him scream and struggle at our most gentle touch… of the sickening stench of unwashed bodies and other vile things that befouled him…"

With a shudder of revulsion, Elrohir paused at the painful clench in his heart. Bowing his head, he took a deep breath before he continued: "And with them, these thoughts drag forth other horrific memories we sought long ago to bury in the darkest corners of our minds. Memories of mother…"

"Do not speak of her!" Elladan pulled his hands away and stood abruptly, heading quickly to the door.

Pure terror of what might come if he were to allow his brother to leave drove Elrohir to grab Elladan forcefully by the arms to prevent his escape, and his voice raised to a shout: "We have never spoken of her! Not once since she left us."

A heavy silence hung between them, but Elrohir did not release his grip, and Elladan did not move. Taking another deep breath to steady himself, Elrohir spoke again, much more softly now, his eyes searching his brother's face. "Do you remember when we were young? When the world seemed so bright and full of promise? When life lay open and welcoming before us, and we greeted each new day with excitement and thoughts of adventure?"

With a slight smile at the recollection of those innocent times long gone, he continued: "We never would be parted then, not in body, heart nor mind. We were not the same, of course. No, for even then we never did see things quite in the same way, did we? But we were the two vital halves of a whole, each offering our own strengths and tempering the other's weaknesses. We had no secrets between us, nothing left long unspoken that should have been said, and, together, we felt complete and strong."

Pulling free of Elrohir's hold, Elladan responded with a bitter laugh. "In the foolishness of youth, we thought there was no battle we could not win, no enemy we could not defeat, so long as we were united. We were wrong."

"The world is much changed, and so too are we," said Elrohir sadly and, suddenly needing to avert his gaze, he looked to the floor as he spoke again. "Over these last few months, I have come realize that a distance has been growing between us for many long years. It began in that vile cave with mother. It widened when she left us. I wanted to cry. I wanted to grieve. But you did not. You sought only vengeance…"

Elladan's response was quick and heated: "Are you trying to claim that you did not join me in the quest, that you too did not seek out relentlessly the blood of our enemies in payment for their heinous crimes?"

Looking straight into his brother's eyes once more, Elrohir answered firmly: "I did, of course! You know that even in the darkest hours I remained ever at your side."

After a moment's pause, Elrohir continued earnestly, willing Elladan to understand: "But, no matter how many orcs I slew, it brought no relief to the aching grief in my heart, and I soon came to realize that no act of revenge, no amount of blood spilled, could ever undo what had been done. I tired of the hunt and wished to go home, to grieve with my family for what had been lost. But you would not relent, you would not rest, you would not grieve. You could not ever even bring yourself to speak of mother, nor would you listen. You were empty, driven wholly by your need to kill, and in those darkest of days, when to you your own life had ceased to matter, I stayed by your side to watch over you."

"You need never have stayed if you did not wish to! I did not need you."

Elladan turned back toward the door, and Elrohir again stopped him with a firm grasp on his arm. "Once more, Elladan, you try to push me away. Why? In these past months, since your grievous injuries in the cave-in, I have sensed that something else has changed between us. You close yourself ever more to me, and further and further you seem to withdraw."

There was no response. Elladan kept his eyes fixed on the door, and Elrohir could not prevent the pleading, almost desperate, tone that now entered his voice: "I miss you, my brother, my twin. Why will you not open your mind and your heart to me again?"

Turning quickly to face him, Elladan answered with a shout: "Do you make me say it? I am afraid!" Breathing heavily, he bowed his head and averted his gaze, and for a time said nothing more. When next he spoke, it was little more than a whisper. "You would not like what you saw."

Elrohir replied without hesitation. "No matter the distance between us, no matter what secrets you may keep that you think too dark to share with me, you are my brother still, and I know you. I know what I would see." Cupping a hand under Elladan's chin, Elrohir lifted his brother's head to look him directly in the eyes. "Above all I would see steadfast loyalty and devotion to family and those worthy of friendship, true honour and valour, unfailing self-sacrifice for the greater good, remarkable bravery and courage, and a strength I can only admire."

"You flatter me, brother," said Elladan bitterly as he twisted his head out of Elrohir's grasp. "For if you were to look truly, what you would see is the enormity of my failure and my shame."

"Your failure is no greater than mine, Elladan! If you are to blame for all that has happened then so too am I!" Elrohir continued with a sigh: "How many times have I told you not to bear the burdens of all Arda upon your shoulders? Many things are not in your power to control, or to change."

"You do not understand!" Elladan responded hotly. "I knew some evil would soon befall Estel. Again my cursed foresight tormented me with a piece of a puzzle I did not know how to solve. I tried to prepare Estel for whatever he might face, and in battle one on one with him I put him to the test. But I did not think to prepare him for treachery and depravity such as this from his own kind. That is my failure."

"That is not your failure alone. The Dúnedain are a noble race, but even in passing, we have spent enough time in the villages of lesser men to know, sadly, of their perversions. Perhaps I tried too hard to instill in Estel a sense of pride in his kinsmen at the expense of warning him strongly enough about the extent to which men are also capable of dishonour, lust, and lechery. It is not easy to speak of, and, honestly, I never once thought such a fate as this would befall him." Feeling sorrow and guilt threaten to overtake him too, Elrohir paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he continued with new resolve: "But bearing such guilt is not healthy, nor is it useful. We must centre our efforts on what we can do to help Estel. You need to stop looking always behind you, and start looking ahead, Elladan."

"But what is there to look to now that hope is truly and utterly gone?" Elladan shook his head and closed his eyes. "You ask what happened in that cave-in, how it is that I have changed. I will tell you this—in those dark hours, when Estel and I were trapped in dire conditions, I had a momentous vision. I saw Aragorn crowned and the great kingdoms of Men restored, and for a time, I dared allow myself to hope again."

Elladan looked back at him and Elrohir could see the raw grief in his eyes when he next spoke: "But I should never have allowed it, for my hope is destroyed once more! Long ago I swore an oath to Estel's mother that I would not allow her son to fall. I failed. Estel is broken and all hope is gone!"

This time, it was Elrohir who felt a flash of anger course through him as he shouted: "Estel is not broken! Do you still so little know our brother, Elladan?"

For a while he let the silence hang between them. Then, Elrohir spoke once more, and his reply was unwavering and without doubt. "Estel is stronger than you seem to believe. He will not die, he will not fade. He lives still and in time, with help, not only will he heal from this, he will grow stronger and wiser for it. Mark my words, for you will see, and I hope you too will learn."

In the next chapter: a long needed conversation between Elrond and Gilraen, and in the chapter after we will hear from Aragorn again (although I'll warn you, he's not doing too well at the moment).

Please leave a comment—I'd love to hear from you, and reviews make me happy!