T. A. 2643

A sweet summer breeze blew through Rivendell as Elladan and Elrohir brushed their horses after their long day's ride. They had rode all around the valley, through the woods and up into the cliffs towards the moors. Now, they were talking quietly, content to pass the remainder of the evening in the stables with their steeds. Their conversation was interrupted however when Lindir came striding through the open doors at the other end of the row of stalls. The twins noticed that his face was grave as he approached. "My lords, Lord Elrond has sent me to find you. You are wanted in the Hall of Healing," he explained quickly. The brothers turned to look at each other in alarm, each wondering what could have happened.

"Is he alright?" asked Elladan.

"Your father is fine, he could not come himself because he is needed," answered Lindir.

"And Arwen?" the other brother asked, fearing for his sweet sister.

"She is well, it is your elder sibling whom your worry should fall upon. Eredhel returned just half an hour ago. She reached the guards at the southern pass before collapsing. Glorfindel and Gaelring brought her here. She is grievously injured." The twins' clear eyes widened in alarm. This was unexpected, there had been no word from their sister for almost thirty years. They quickly began to lead the horses towards their stalls but Lindir stopped them. "Please, allow me," he said kindly. They thanked him and rushed out of the stables towards the Hall of Healing. Neither of them spoke as their feet flew over the cobbled trail. Finally the building came into view. It was two stories tall, with a great open porch, holding carved chairs and lanterns. A sculpture of Este, the elven goddess of healing, stood guard over the entrance. The brothers pushed open the double doors and took a turn into the first room on their left. Arwen was sitting in the corner with Glorfindel standing next to her. Their eyes were on the elleth lying on the bed and the lord seated next to her. Elladan's jaw tightened when he saw the state of his sister. His calmer twin laid a hand on his shoulder as he too suppressed a grimace.

Eredhel's woven tunic and leggings were torn and dirty. Her usually shining hair had mostly come free of its braid and was dull and tangled. The only places where dust did not cling to her were those that were stained with blood. There was a deep cut on her collarbone and two gashes on her thigh as well as several other scratches and bruises. Most alarming however was the wide wound in her chest which Lord Elrond was currently tending to. "Muinthel, (sister)," said Elrohir softly, drawing her attention.

"Mana marte? (What happened?)" asked Elladan.

"A muindyr, (Ah brothers,)" Eredhel's breathing was shallow and she flinched as her father pressed a wet cloth to her chest. She grit her teeth in pain but indicated for him to continue his work. At the sound of her voice Arwen and Glorfindel moved closer, it seemed she had been awaiting the arrival of the twins to explain what had happened. "I was on my way back from Gondor and I was fighting a small band of orcs on the western side of the mountains when several goblins came riding down from the hills. I managed to kill many of them before a warg dragged me to the ground and got me between his jaws." She indicated to her chest wound. "I sliced its throat and finished off the others but not without a few more scrapes," she explained wearily. As she spoke Elrond removed the now bloodstained cloth and dipped another to soak in a bowl of cold green liquid before turning back to his daughter.

"How did you not sense them coming?" asked Glorfindel, a frown clouding his face.

"I believe I can answer that," said Lord Elrond suddenly. His slender fingers gently probed a small cut on Eredhel's shoulder and she swore violently in pain, her fingers clutching at the sheets. The scrape was less than an inch long but the blood seeping from it was a deep purple. The Lord's eyes darkened angrily. "Where were you?" he demanded, his voice steady. Eredhel met his gaze, her face impossible to read.

"I told you, I came from Gondor," she said firmly.

"You know that's not what I meant. What in the name of the Valar were you doing in Harad?" His last word was a hiss. The twins started at the mention of the southern province.

"Adar, are you certain?" questioned Elrohir.

"Yes, the wound is infected with a rare poison made from the venom of a snake that lives in those desert lands. It would kill a mortal within a few hours but would only weaken an elf's body and senses." He turned back to Eredhel expectantly as he cleaned and bound the wound, placing a few herbs beneath the bandage. She sighed in defeat, her hands clenching as she groaned in pain.

"You know that the men of that province have always waged war on Gondor. The borders are almost constantly under attack from their savage troops. Along with the men of Umbar they have tried to ravage the lands to the South. The Rangers of Ithilien were attacked by surprise one night and three of them were taken captive near the border. I overheard a couple of the guards saying that the Steward thought them to already be dead and would not send a party after them. I knew the Haradrim never took prisoners simply to kill them, they would likely be tortured for information or sport. I tracked the caravan for almost a week before I caught up to them. I freed the men in the night and we escaped on horses but I was hit by a dart as we fled. I cleaned the wound after we returned to Minas Tirith but I noticed it was slow to heal," she admitted.

Elladan lowered himself onto the bed beside her and laid a hand on her arm. He looked down at her in alarm when he realized it was hot to his touch. "Your skin is practically burning!" he exclaimed. "Is she going to be alright?" Lord Elrond ran a hand through his hair as he sighed.

"Yes, she'll be fine, eventually." He turned to his daughter. "But you're lucky to be alive, you should never have gone to that wretched place." His eyes studied her face worriedly as he tried to impress upon her the danger she had put herself in but the elleth simply shook her head.

"The men of Harad are wicked and cruel. Those Rangers would have been tortured and killed had I not went after them." Her eyes fluttered, the room was beginning to grow dim. Elladan muttered something about her "damned stubborness" but she didn't pick it up, his voice echoing in her head as exhaustion overtook her.