Elrohir got to his feet with Faelwen in his arms, holding her gently as though she was made of crystal. Elladan continued to stroke her singed hair from his side. Simultaneously, they turned furious glares towards the humans, who had rounded into a little group by a fuming Glorfindel and Erestor, and now stood surrounded by a group of very angry elves. Glorfindel seemed to be using all of his self-discipline to stop himself from doing Faelurinc severe bodily harm.
Elladan, not yet a century past his majority, had no such intentions. As soon as he saw that Faelwen was safe in his twin's embrace, the young Peredhel stalked across the clearing to the group of men, drew back his arm and punched Faelurinc savagely in the face, taking a dark delight in the crunching sound which suggested that he had broken the villain's nose. While Faelurinc roared with pain and ducked his head, Elladan drew back his arm again; only to find it caught by his father.
"Enough for now. They will come back to Imladris with us," said Elrond icily, fury making his eyes cold and hostile – a fury which was not directed at Elladan. "Justice will be done on them when it is convenient. But for now, Faelwen's safety is a far more pressing matter and these wounds need to be seen to urgently. We must get home as quickly as we can!"
And so the now larger party trekked back the way that Faelwen had been taken; back to Imladris, to security, to safety and to love. Faelwen remained completely oblivious; her small frame hanging limp in Elrohir's gentle embrace. The younger of the twins could feel that his hands were wet with her blood and the tears coursed silently down his face as he followed after his grandfather's large strides.
Elrohir had the greatest of confidence in Elrond's abilities as a healer. But would they be enough this time? Faelwen was just an infant, and she had already suffered so much! What if she just gave up? The smell of burnt flesh made Elrohir's stomach flip. She must be in so much pain; it would be a miracle if she lived through this! Both he and Elladan had become extremely attached to their new sibling, and he was not willing to let her go again so soon!
They made it to Imladris in a very short time; anxiety and anger having lengthened their strides and quickened their pace. Barely a word had been spoken throughout the entirety of their journey.
"Glorfindel, can you see that the humans are secured?" Elrond requested, as they reached the entrance to the Last Homely House. "They will be dealt with once I've seen to my daughter."
Glorfindel nodded once, briskly, as he and Erestor led the humans away. The others made their way up the courtyard steps to the main hall, where they were greeted by a frantic Celebrian.
"Thank Elbereth you found her!" she cried with relief, embracing her eldest son tightly, while Galadriel rose to her feet in concern, noticing the blood on Elrohir hands. Their relief quickly turned to grief and, when Legolas, Haldir and Arwen came running down the steps after the two Ellyth, three young sets of eyes immediately filled with tears.
Elrohir felt the urge to weep overwhelm him again as Legolas's repeated pleas to Faelwen to wake up went unanswered. The three elflings were utterly horrified to see their little playmate in such a terrible state and one by one gave in to sobs.
"We need to take her to the healing rooms," said Elrond, half way up the corridor already. "She is in a very bad away, and I need to see to her back immediately." Elrohir nodded and rushed after him.
"Elladan?" The eldest twin looked down to find a tearful Arwen tugging on his sleeve. "Is your hand hurt?" Confusedly, Elladan brought his hand up before his face, finding that there was blood on it – Faelurinc's blood, from where he had punched the human in the face.
"I'm not hurt, Arwen," he assured his sister gently, lifting her up into his arms and hugging her as tight as he could; tears falling into his Arwen's dark hair.
"Faelwen is going to be all right, isn't she?" Arwen pressed anxiously, her lower lip quivering. Elladan felt his heart sink even further when Legolas asked the same question of Thranduil. He was grateful that the Elvenking had a better answer than he had been about to give.
"We must hope and pray to the Valar that she will be, ion-nin."
They all followed in the direction that Elrond and Elrohir had taken and arrived in one of the healing rooms; a large airy room, furnished with several beds, a couple of working-counters and a cheerful fire burning merrily in the grate.
Elrond had placed Faelwen face down on one of the counters and had begun to peel the dress from her back. It was a difficult task; for she was so badly burned that the dress had stuck to her skin in several places. He thanked the Valar for her unconsciousness as pieces of flesh came away with the material he removed. She would have been in agony if she had been awake.
"Oh no! Not her poor back again!" exclaimed Celebrian in horror, coming to stand beside her husband, putting her arm around Elrohir, who was standing at the side of the counter, shaking. "The poor little thing! She shouldn't have had to suffer like this again! She was just recovering so well, too!"
"She's lucky to be alive!" said Elrond gravely. "They've burnt the skin clean off her back! And it looks like they gave her one hell of a beating before that."
His heart almost stopped beating when he realised, paradoxically, how cold her face felt to the touch.
'Come on, penneth,' he thought desperately. 'Do not give in now. You have come so far.'
Inwardly, he marvelled at the courage of this tiny fighter on the counter before him. He had been had to bear with a fair amount of grief when he was a young elf, but he had never been made to suffer in the same way that Faelwen had. Had he been so viciously abused, both physically and mentally, then he doubted that he would have been able to bear it! More than likely he would have faded away! But Faelwen had not faded yet. She was truly a strong one!
Even so, she seemed so small and fragile, lying there on the table, that he felt his heart constrict. She was so young, yet she been through so much pain. He shook his head sadly when he managed to peel the last of the green fabric away and see the full extent of her injuries.
The first welt lay straight across her shoulders; a cruel cut that had sliced straight into her skin. They continued in violent crossing patterns all the way down her back to the underside of her knees. Her skin was ablaze with a lattice of vicious wounds. As for the burns, there were blisters on every spare inch of skin from her neck to her ankles and there was virtually no skin left at all on the small of her back; only a burned, blackened mess.
Flesh which had managed to escape the sting of Faelurinc's riding crop now glowed angry red and radiated the heat of the fire she'd been held in front of. Elrond was quick to realise that, even with the extraordinary healing powers Faelwen possessed, it would be a while before she recovered. She wouldn't be able to walk, she wouldn't be able to sit – she would be stuck in bed until her skin was sufficiently healed to allow her to move without tearing it.
He smoothed a thick layer of a healing salve all over the grievous wounds on her back, bottom and legs, and then dressed them with airy bandages which would not stick to her skin. He washed away the blood that had run down her back and her legs and then he bathed her face and neck in athelas water, hoping that the fragrance of the helpful herb would ease her breathing and help her recovery. After that, he placed her face down on one of the soft feather beds, with the covers drawn up to her waist, keeping her back uncovered from unnecessary pressure.
Her singed hair would need tending to, but that could wait. For now, it was far more important that she simply rested.
"How could they have got so close to the house without us noticing?" cried Elladan shakily, startling Arwen, who was still in his arms. "Had we not been so negligent in our patrol duties then this never would have happened!"
"Daro, Elladan!" said Celeborn at once. "There is no use in lamenting the past. It will only lead to a spiral of despair. Be glad instead that we were able to arrive when we did. Blaming yourself will bring you nothing except more grief."
"Ada," Haldir addressed Celeborn timidly, looking at Faelwen's still form with unhappy eyes. "What did they do to her?"
"They hurt her!" Elrohir spoke before anyone else could, his voice cracking mid-sentence. "And we couldn't stop them!" A rogue sob escaped him. Celebrian wrapped her arms comfortingly around her son and Elrohir finally lost his battle with tears; his sobs echoing through the room. He had never known it was possible to cry out of sheer rage before.
"Why won't she wake up?" Arwen asked, looking confused.
"The pain made her faint, little one." Galadriel explained gently. "It's better that she lost consciousness, as her back will be very, very sore."
"Can we stay with her, in case she does wake up?" asked Haldir. "Sometimes it can be frightening in the dark when you are alone."
"You should all be in bed," Celeborn told him mildly. "It is getting very late."
"We could sleep in that bed," Legolas was quick to point to the other bed in the room.
"I'm staying here anyway!" said Elrohir at once, while Elladan nodded in concurrence. "I'm not leaving her now!"
As Legolas, Haldir and Arwen immediately announced the same thing, the elders had no choice but to agree to let the younger elves stay in the room for the night, though Elrond insisted that they try to get some sleep. As they settled down together on one of the large beds, the half-elf gave all three of them a cupful of a gentle sleeping potion, to help gradually ease them into drowsiness – just as Glorfindel and Erestor entered the room.
"How is she?" asked Glorfindel at once. No one needed to answer, for it was plain for anyone to see – Faelwen was not in a good way. Casting his eyes further around the room, Glorfindel silently cursed Faelurinc's existence. The human had caused so much more damage than he could possibly have imagined in one night.
Elrohir was standing by Faelwen's bed, tears of anger and shock streaming down his face as he fought for composure. Elladan, standing beside him, also had tears in his eyes but stubbornly refused to let them fall. Glorfindel could see that the eldest twin was shaking with suppressed rage. It hardly surprising – both twins had quickly become as fond of Faelwen as they were of Arwen and it must be tearing them apart to see her in such agony. Besides that, for two young elves that had grown to adulthood surrounded by love and happiness, the foreign reality of such harsh cruelty must be a horrific one indeed.
It was not just the twins who were feeling the despair. In the opposite bed, Legolas, Haldir and Arwen were watching Faelwen's still body with sad and frightened eyes. Thankfully, they had not had to witness her abuse first-hand, but it did not change the fact that they were aghast at the sight of Faelwen's terrible injuries and beside themselves with anxiety for her to open her eyes and prove that she was going to be all right. As for the older occupants of the room, dark fury and disgust could be seen in every set of fair Elven eyes.
Approaching Faelwen's bed, Glorfindel cursed fluently and impressively when he saw the bruised, swollen state of her face. He was about to return to the humans and make them pay tenfold when Erestor placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
"Stay here with the young ones." he whispered to his blond friend. "They need us all with them right now. There will be time for revenge later." Sighing, Glorfindel conceded that Erestor was right and settled down into a chair.
"Did you find anything out from the humans?" Elrond enquired of his chief councillor, as they all mimicked Glorfindel's actions and sat down around the room's two beds; preparing for the night's vigil.
"Glorfindel managed to get the full story out of one of the more cowardly of the group, with more than a little 'coercion'," answered Erestor wryly. "They did not actually know that they were so close to Imladris and happened upon Faelwen quite by chance in the heart of the woods. The leader of the group, who I am certain is quite unhinged, at once saw the opportunity to 'take back what was his' and so they snatched the poor child and continued on their way through the woods. She tried to scream for help, so they gagged her.
"They made camp where we found them, on the far side of the woods. The leader, who answers to the name of Faelurinc, wasted no time in punishing her for her escape and beat her savagely with his riding crop. The others just listened and did not interfere, for they all seem to be prejudiced in their dislike of elves and also did not dare to intervene with Faelurinc when he was in one of his violent moods. According to the one who spoke, the man's tempers could alternate drastically from day to day.
When he finished beating her, he returned to their campfire and announced to the rest of his company that he intended to brand her, so that she would never forget who she belonged to. This was apparently, enough for one member of the company – who had not travelled with them when he previously kept Faelwen as a slave – and he cast the implement that Faelurinc intended to use into the very heart of the fire. Enrage, Faelurinc stabbed him, and the poor young man died within a matter of seconds. His was the body in the clearing. Afterwards, Faelurinc told Faelwen that she was responsible for the death and that, unless she hailed him as her master, he would cut the young man's head off and throw it into the fire."
"Messing with her mind again!" said Thranduil angrily, as he stroked Legolas's hair from his place beside the second bed. "He deserves no mercy after the way he's treated that child! What did she do?"
"I believe she didn't answer at first," said Glorfindel bleakly, clenching his strong fists. "But as soon as he knelt and went to make good his threat, she gave in and screamed that he was her master. He had already killed the man before her eyes, I do not think she could have stood to see anymore blood."
"Like as not she will feel too ashamed to face us if she wakes," said Elrond gravely, and the adults exchanged looks at the use of the word 'if'.
"You do not think she is going to survive?" asked Celebrian quietly, which made both twins choke on suppressed sobs, while the eyes of the three elflings on the bed immediately filled with tears. Elrond sighed; he had not wanted his sons or the young ones to hear this tonight.
"I am afraid I do not know one way or the other right now," he explained sadly. "She's taken so many wounds tonight and she's clinging onto life by the smallest margin imaginable. She is beyond even Vilya's reach right now. It is all up to Faelwen. If she wishes to come back to Middle Earth, as I think she does, then she will recover. All we can do now is to wait and pray."
"You three must try to sleep," Galadriel told the three children. Initially, they continued to protest but Elrond's sleeping draught quickly took effect and they one by one succumbed to slumber.
Despite the gentle coaxing of all the elders in the room, the twins refused to leave their foster-sister's bedside for a single minute – not even to change out of their patrol leathers into something more comfortable. They both stubbornly refused to sleep in case anything happened, and sat down on either side of the bed's large headboard.
The night passed slowly and uneventfully. Faelwen did not wake, and the other three elflings slept on without waking. There was little conversation for no one could think of anything comforting to say and, for most of the night, they simply sat in silence,
"I know that we are all unwilling of being the cause of pain to anyone," said Galadriel solemnly, as dawn began to approach. "But these men will have to pay for what they did. They cannot be allowed to go on abusing children in such a way."
Elrond looked over at his foster daughter, who was deathly white and lying with her eyes shut. He shuddered to even think of what she'd gone through in the last twelve hours.
"No, you are right," he agreed grimly. "Something is going to have to be done!"