A/N: I will warn you this chapter could end up a bit disturbing but I think it's still a PG-13 rating.

8. Changes

Back in the nasty lair under the Misty Mountains, a new leader was appointed over their now-small herd of orcs: none other than Grodd. He discovered Lindir still in his cell shortly after returning from the great defeat at the Redhorn Pass. "Ah, my pretty elf, I see old Carnelian has yet to torture you. Some fresh meat will be nice for that!" The orc stood at the bars, peering in with his dark, beady eyes, a snarl on his ugly face.

Lindir quaked until he fell over, so Grodd entered the cell and walked over to him. "Get up, you grovelling elf-scum!" he barked, reaching down to forcefully put the creature on his feet.

However, the fright was too much for the poor elf. His body seized with pain, he convulsed as his heart pounded too wildly inside his chest. A few moments later, he once more fell to the floor as the breath left him. Grodd, rather unfazed, dragged the cadaver away to some remote portion of the caves. Lindir's body was never found, although few searched for it anyway, and quite sadly most of the elves in Rivendell hardly missed him.

Two months went by and Elrohir had a hard time adjusting to not having his father around. Not only did he have to fill Elrond's shoes and become Lord of Imladris, he also mourned his death and had a comatose twin to attend. Simply trying to process that Carnelian and Elrond were one in the same proved a hard task, yet it made more sense as he looked through the study, organizing and going through papers. All the elves supported Elrohir and assured him his leadership was fine, and the older elves continually gave him advice. All Rivendell had to get used to the changes made within their fair land. They laid no blame on Elladan for killing Elrond/Carnelian and found the orcs now left them alone unless they wandered into their territory unawares. Over all, the kingdom prospered in peace.

One day, Estel walked into Elrond's old study, where Elrohir sat trying to organize and understand his father's piles of papers. "Come in," he called when he heard the knock, not bothering to look up because he expected it to be yet another elf offering advice. While he truly did appreciates, some days his head ached from the information overload and numerous visitors who interrupted his work.

Estel padded over until he stood in front of the desk. Only then did his friend meet his eyes, his face visibly relaxing from its slightly perturbed expression. However, the man's expression puzzled the elf. Taking a deep breath, Estel started, "I'm leaving tomorrow, mellon nîn."

"Leaving? What do you mean?"

"Elrohir, you knew I planned to join my people within the next few months. I stayed until I was sure that you could get along alright without my help. Since you no longer need me here, it is time for me to join the Dúnedain. I am their heir and must learn their ways, which can only be accomplished by becoming one of them."

"I know. I will not keep you here. Ada told both Elladan and I to take you under our wing but reminded us that you would one day leave for your own people."

"Thank you. You will be alright without me?"

"Yes, I think I can manage just fine. You have been so helpful and I will miss your friendship and guidance. However, you are right. It is time you sought your own path in life. And keep a look out for an elven prince."

They spoke some more and the next morning, Lord Elrohir saw his friend off with a brotherly hug, sad to see him go yet relieved that he was that much closer to fulfilling his purpose.

The years went by rather peacefully in Imladris. The company of dwarves came through and Lord Elrohir aided them on their journey. His heart remained heavy over Elladan. He continued to be unconscious, never moving or waking, constantly care for by the most competent healers. Elrohir visited him daily. He would usually pull a chair up to the bedside and take his unresponsive hand. "Elladan, you have to wake up! I need you. The kingdom is running well enough, but I miss you. We always did everything together, and having you here in the healing chambers, it just is not right. You should be the one ruling in Ada's stead. As much grief as I teasingly have given you about it, you really are the older twin. It is your right to rule. You can have the throne once you are better and I will come to work in here. Things are not the same without Ada either."

The one-sided conversation would always go something like that, with the healers whispering and shaking their heads behind his back. At last he would leave the room, head slightly less erect than usual and a tiny droop to his shoulders as he trod back to his lordly business.

About 67 years went by when Elrohir decided to hold a council in his dwelling, spurred on by Gandalf and the strange companions he had steered towards Rivendell, a race called hobbits. One, Frodo, had been wounded by a Morgul blade and Glorfindel had used his horse, Asfaloth, to rescue him and bring him to Elrohir for him to attend. It seemed the elf had inherited many of Elrond's healing abilities. A day later, an old and dear friend strode through the gateway. "Estel!" He embraced him in a brotherly hug as the Ranger quickly gave him an overview of his adventures. "Master Frodo still lingers. There is a piece of the blade in his shoulder somewhere that I cannot find. Will you come help me?"

"Of course!" So it was with Estel's help that the hobbit finally got on the mend.

More guests from all over Arda began to arrive as Frodo rested and the elf and Ranger visited Elladan.

Estel crouched near the bed and took his old friend's hand. "Elladan, it's Estel."

Elrohir sighed. "I talk to him every day, and have ever since we brought him back so long ago. But he never responds."

"Will you allow me to try something?"

"Anything!" The elf's eyes practically begged him to do something.

"I need some athelas." Elrohir provided the healing plant, which Estel crushed and boiled, leaving a sweet scent in the room. He held it under Elladan's nose a few minutes, then gave him a few sips of the cooled mixture.

Elladan blinked open one eye, then the other, taking a minute to get his bearings. "Elrohir?"

His twin grinned down at him. "It's about time you woke up! We have a special visitor!"

"Estel? Is that you?" His brow wrinkled and his voice was obviously puzzled.

"Who else would it be?" the man grinned.

"That battle did you no good. You look terrible, like you've aged about 70 years!"

Elrohir and Estel exchanged one look and guffawed. It took them several minutes before they calmed enough to explain things. However, Elladan noticed a familiar necklace swinging from Estel's neck. "Since when did Arwen get here? She's supposed to be in Lothlórien!"

Well, that remark led to another round of raucous laughter, leaving the poor recovering elf staring as though the two had lost their minds, which perhaps they had. It took many long hours, and by that time it was time for the infamous Council of Elladan and Elrohir. You know what happened from there!

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I know this is a terribly weird, possibly slightly disturbing tale. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments section! :)