Chapter Fifteen

.

SUMMARY: Elrond is not pleased with Elladan's behavior. Elrohir is not pleased at being volunteered for a mission.

.

.

"Love is something sent from heaven to worry the hell out of you."

– Dolly Parton

Before even the First Age of Middle Earth began, Melkor needed a barrier across his lands to prevent his greatest enemy, Oromë, Hunstman of the Valar, from killing fell beasts that were his creation. The Dark Lord stretched out his hand, made the ground shudder and quake until giant rocks burst from the earth. He waved his hands again and again, as these rocks grew in length and breadth until they became the steep, unforgiving peaks of the Misty Mountains that separated the East from the West on every map made throughout the ages. 1 2

In the bowels of these mountains, there dwelled the Goblin King with his foul minions, until the year 2941 T.A., when he was killed by the Wizard Gandalf and the Dwarves of the Original Company. In the northernmost peak, lies Angmar, the former kingdom of the dreaded Witchking, who now dwells with his Master in Mordor. Near Angmar is Mount Gundabad, where Durin the Deathless first woke, Orcs dwelled during most of the Second and Third Age, until its fortress was emptied in and most of its inhabitants destroyed during the Battle of Five Armies, which also took place in 2941 T.A.

The Vala Yavanna was with her husband, Aulë, when she came across the destruction wrought by the creation of the Misty Mountains. Thousands of her beloved trees had been uprooted, leaving countless animals homeless and without food. She cried out in anguish, fell to her knees, and buried her face in her hands. Aulë, Craftsman of the Valar, hated to see his wife so distraught, so he took out his hammer, and went to work.

When he was finished, he kissed Yavanna's brow, gently took her hands and formed a small pool for her tears. With a reassuring smile, he pursed his lips and gently blew the tears up to the mountaintops, where they shrouded each peak with low-hanging clouds that brought a constant source of moisture. Snow formed, which melted into the purest water, and began to flow through the paths and falls that Aulë had so carefully carved out of the rock, to fill the ugly chasms and turn them into rivers. Yavanna smiled at her husband's kindness, waved her hand, and soon the area was carpeted with green and growing things, which would be nourished by the rivers that came from her tears: Anduin the Great, which flows along the East, and the Bruinen River which nourishes the land to the West of the mountain range.

Down through the ages, the Elves and Men lived, died, loved, fought, and triumphed at the foot of these silent Mountains near these rivers. In 1697 S.A., an Elven Lord named Elrond Peredhel came to an area beside the Bruinen River, and founded the Last Homely House east of the Sea. That house was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, "a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all'. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear, and sadness." 3 4

Imladris—or Rivendell, as it is referred to in the Common Tongue—is famous all for its culture and love of the arts and has served as a refuge and place of safety for over four thousand years.

Until now.

.

888

.

Rivendell, 5th of March 2946 T.A.; Ford of Bruinen

Everyone at the Ford still struggled to make sense of the events of the last seventeen hours, and from the haggard look on their Elrond's face, he was also overwhelmed. Elrohir had just ordered his unit to prepare for their journey back, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elladan grab his father's arm. The Elves under his command had seen it, too, though their gasps had been stifled and their shock and outrage were well-hidden behind masks of calm.

"Do not let them go!" Elladan tightened the grip on his father's arm. "Elrohir and I must do this!"

"You forget yourself, Ion!" Elrond jerked out of his grasp.

With a quick nod to Rahlen, Elrohir left the group and stomped over to his brother.

"Gwanunig!" Elrohir hissed. "Man cerig?"

"I am sorry," Elladan raised his hands, "but I must beg your patience."

"Make yourself clear," Elrond's lips pressed flat, "and be quick about it."

"I cannot," Elladan lowered his voice to a whisper, "lest our words fall on the ears of our enemies, for nothing can be taken for granted in these uncertain times. I can only ask for your trust, Ada. We also have another problem: While it is true Lusiël was behind all this, who actually carried out the murders of Meássë and Narseg? We need to start an urgent search for this confederate. He could be among us, even now!"

Elrond studied his son's face, and exchanged glances with Elrohir. "What are your thoughts?"

"Though I am not happy with him at present," he murmured, skewering Elladan with a glare, "my brother has a point. What if the same magic that kept Lusiël from suspicion also protected her accomplice? Rahlen, Kædhan, and Nyssiel were with us in the Woodland Realm at the time of the murders, so we should be in charge of the search. Elladan and I can take them and ride ahead—"

"No," Elladan said. "You and I will look for Lusiël's body."

"No," Elrohir gritted his teeth. "We are going back with the wagon. Your patient is more important than a dead body! And you know I hate it when you volunteer me for things."

"I have to!" Elladan said earnestly. "It would be better if Ada could come, as well, but he needs to help Vildan. Brother, we must stay and find her."

"Anyone can do that; Vildan and Melui need you!"

"I know that, and if it were any other circumstance, you know I would not leave his side—"

"So, we will go, and send two of the others."

"No, we cannot." Elladan's words were slow, as if he were speaking to an errant child. "It is not just a body we need to find." His eyes bore into Elrohir's, as he rolled his finger. "Think about it."

"Wha—" And suddenly it dawned on him. Elrohir's words dried up, as did the moisture in his mouth. He managed a swallow and met his father's eyes. "Though I am loathe to agree, my brother is correct."

"What are you two talking about?"

The trio of Elf-Lords exchanged whispers for several minutes, and the worry on Elrond's brow deepened.

"Are you certain of this?" Elrond asked his sons.

"Nothing is certain, but we cannot risk it." Elladan said.

"Very well. Rahlen!"

The captain left his place at the wagon and approached. "Yes, My Lord?"

After repeating Elladan's suspicion in a low voice, Elrond said, "Your orders have been rescinded; my sons will undertake the search for Lusiël. Take Kædhan and Nyssiel and return to Imladris at all speed. Tell Glorfindel what has happened here, and begin the search. Start with all those who went with Gildor last July and question them thoroughly."

"My Lord, we have already done so—" Rahlen began.

"Well, do it again!" Elrond snapped. "If you find this accomplice, do not harm him; put him in a cell and wait for me."

"Yes, My Lord," Rahlen turned away—

"Wait!"

After receiving another, whispered order, Captain Rahlen saluted and left with the selected Elves.

Soon after, Elrond took his place in the wagon beside both sleeping patients. "Faro mhae," he said, drily, as he gave the signal to leave.

After the wagon rode out of sight, Elrohir gave his brother a dirty look.

"If it helps, I hope I am wrong," Elladan winced.

"If you are wrong, you will personally wash my smalls for the next six months!"

"And if I am right, you will wash mine," Elladan's mouth twitched. He went to Galcúron and jumped into the saddle. "Come on."

Elrohir gave his brother a filthy look and went to his own mare. "Where do we start?"

"We should backtrack from the last place we saw her," Elladan said, "just in case her body is trapped under one of the rocks."

"All the way back there?" he groaned.

"Stop whining," Elladan said. "Just pray that we do not have to scale those cliffs to get this done." He turned Galcúron northward and trotted away.

Elrohir rolled his eyes, made a face, and followed.

Just hours after their frantic chase along the river to keep up with Vildan and Melui, the twins carefully retraced their journey. They looked for signs of Lusiël along the banks of the Bruinen, in the faint hope that her body might have somehow washed ashore. They studied the rocks and boulders peeking out of the water for any signs of blood, but found none. The water itself was nearly opaque by eddies and whitecaps created by the constant movement of the silt and mud stirred up by the heavy rains. They could not rely on their Elven noses; the cold river would prevent the decay of Lusiël's body for a long while. In any case, the combined odors of algae, wet earth, and the sodden wool of their clothing, would make such an effort fruitless.

Tall trees rose in their path to brush the sky, still overcast, but mercifully dry. Hooves made a spongy, crunching sound as they carefully avoided stones that peeked out from the thick carpet of dead leaves and twigs. Elrohir's ears perked up at a grassy rustle to his left; a doe had pulled a mouthful of greenery from a nearby juniper and paused, mid-chew to meet his eyes. At any other time, she and the other animals in this forest would simply give him a nod and go about their business, but today, she turned tail and disappeared into the brush.

"What did you do to her?" Elladan quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Me?" Elrohir said. "I am not the one leading this wild goose chase.I would much rather be home, in dry clothing, and with a hot meal in my stomach. I have missed breakfast and lunch, and, thanks to you, I will probably miss dinner!"

"That might not be so bad," Elladan smirked. "You could stand to lose a few pounds, anyway."

"What?" his jaw dropped.

"Do not worry," his brother shrugged. "It is hardly noticeable under your armor."

"I am not getting fat!" Elrohir sputtered. "I look exactly like you!"

"Now, calm down, brother," Elladan's soothed. "A great many females prefer their Ellon with a little 'meat on his bones'."

"Where did hear something as ridiculous as that?" Elrohir groaned.

"Nobody."

"It had to be somebody; you are not clever enough to come up with that on your own." Elrohir's brows shot up. "Did Percy of Dale tell you that?"

"My apologies," Elladan smothered a grin. "I should not have brought it up."

"It is too late for that now! What did he say?"

"Oh…" Elladan waved a hand absently. "He mentioned something about 'love handles,' and how women like to grab them during—"

"Aha!" Elrohir pointed at his brother. "Percy said 'women' not Elleth! You are making all of this up."

"If you say so."

"I do not have 'love handles!'"

"I believe you; really, I do."

"Stop that!"

Elladan pulled Galcúron to a stop and looked down at the river.

"I did not mean your horse," Elrohir snapped, "I meant your mouth."

"We are at the spot where they fell," Elladan pursed his lips. "She is not here."

"Very observant."

"We will have to search south of the Ford."

"Car sandh?"

Elladan's response was a rakish grin. "Come on."

Elrohir swore under his breath, turned Prestapant around, and followed his brother. He waited until Elladan's back was turned before he allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up.

Four miles south of the Ford of Bruinen, they nearly missed the scrap of white fabric floating on the water's surface on the far side of the river,

"There she is!" Elladan pointed.

"Are you certain it is not just another whitecap?"

"No; it looks too dirty. See?"

Elrohir was forced to agree. He also noted the depth and speed of the river. "We will never get across here," he said grimly. "It is too rough,"

"We will have to backtrack again at the bridge just above the Ford."

"Again?"

"Fine; I will backtrack, and you can swim."

"I have a better idea." Elrohir quirked his eyebrow. "You can backtrack and fish her out of the water. I will wait here."

"I will tell Ada on you."

"You would not dare!"

"Gwanunig," Elladan's face grew serious, and he moved his gelding closer. "You can feel it, too," he said softly.

"I was hoping I was imagining it," Elrohir admitted, as he turned his mare around.

Once again, they rode North to cross the river. When they reached the two large boulders on the West bank, Elrohir spied the outlines of legs under the water. "Her upper body must be trapped below the surface."

Elladan dismounted and patted Galcúron silver-grey neck, and retrieved the rope from his saddle bag.

"No, gwanûr," Elrohir said softly, as he took the rope from his brother's hand. "I will do it."

"Thank you." Elladan joked, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "This is unusually kind of you."

"Then take advantage of it, before I change my mind."

Elrohir removed his boots and socks, then his breastplate. After making a loop, he gave his brother one end of the rope, ordered him to not let go, and waded into the river. The slimy rocks, combined with the strong current challenged even an Elf's sense of balance. On his fourth step in, he slipped under but quickly regained his footing, and cursed after he spit out a mouthful of gritty, bitter water.

"Be careful!" Elladan shouted.

"Now he tells me." He muttered, then shouted, "Stop distracting me!"

The leaves, twigs, and other debris that brushed against his skin made him shiver, as he located Lusiël's feet, tied them together and ordered Elladan to pull. They dragged her body up the riverbank and onto a nearby patch of grass. The Lusiël they had once known was gone, replaced by a stranger. Her face was unrecognizable: a mass of cuts and bruises, as were her limbs, and what was left of the white gown from the Healing Hall was a ragged, muddy mess. In a bizarre way, Elrohir was relieved; it was easier to focus on the work that needed to be done. Still, out of respect for who she had once been, and for his brother, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and covered her face.

"Thank you…" Elladan closed his eyes, then shuddered. "Do you feel that?"

The pulsing had become a steady, seductive hum. Elrohir instinctively threw his arm out and pushed his brother back. After murmuring a spell, he waved his hands over the length of her body, and said with some reluctance. "It is around her neck, whatever it is."

"Oh, no," Elladan rubbed his forehead. "Are you certain?"

"I am afraid I am."

"How are we going to retrieve it, if we cannot see it?" Elladan asked.

"How are we going to retrieve it without touching it?" Elrohir asked.

"Well, how did you get that ring off Saeros's hand?" his brother gave him a meaningful look.

"I did not take it off. I just—" his eyes widened. "You cannot be serious! I know you did not just ask me to chop off her head!"

"Do you have a better idea? You've done this sort of thing before!"

"Which is why I am not going to do it this time." He pointed to Elladan's sword. "It is your turn."

"But… it is her head!"

"I know it is her head! You were the one who undertook told Ada we would do this. And might I point out you did so without talking to me first?"

"Do you think I am enjoying myself?" Elladan pointed to the body. "We have got to find this….whatever this is!"

Elrohir put his hands on his hips. "And just what are we supposed to do with it when we've retrieved it?"

"I asked Ada to send back a box. Lined with Mithril; just like the one King Thranduil used."

"Good idea," Elrohir nodded.

"Go on, then."

"Do not look at me! You are the oldest!"

"By fifteen minutes!"

This free trade of insults was normal for them in dire circumstances; only those close to them understood why. Those close to them also know the twins had not always been that way.

Though Elladan and Elrohir were exactly alike in looks, and while they both were legendary in their skill with sword and bow, they were the opposite in demeanor. Elladan was studious, contemplative, and attuned to the emotions of others. Of the two, he had the better skill at healing. Elrohir hated to sit still, had always preferred to accompany his words with action. When not at his lessons, he would be hanging off the in fence taking in the action at Glorfindel's practice yards. And, as twins, each brother understood how to balance and encourage each other as they lived with the joys and pressures of their unique roles.

They were the sons of the most powerful Elf-Lord in Middle Earth; the High King in all but name, and that was only because Elrond had refused the title. But referring to himself only as a Lord didn't diminish the expectations that had been placed on him, and, in turn, the pressure upon his children to be better, stronger, faster and deadlier than everyone around them.

Thanks to the power of their royal ancestors, Elladan and Elrohir did not disappoint; they were always respectful to those of superior military rank, and served on the front lines in whatever battle that came to their feet. The twins worked well together, knowing each other's minds and moves that saved each other's hides more times than they dared count.

Then their mother's party was attacked on the road to Lothlorien, and she was reported missing.

Elladan and Elrohir were proud to be protectors of their father's realm, defenders of their faith, champions of the weak…

…until the day they entered a cave and amidst the darkness and filth, found a poor creature that was once their Naneth.

Her bones had been broken, her body was bruised, and she was bleeding from places that should only have been touched in love. Celebrian had been hanging in irons chained to the wall of the cave, denied the comfort of repose, denied the release of death, and left there in the darkness to starve.

When Elrohir held up his torch and met his brother's eyes, Elladan was just as shattered as he was. In that moment, the brothers understood the difference between arrogance and quiet confidence, between bravado and true courage, and that all the victories they had celebrated before were hollow and meaningless, compared to this.

They freed Celebrian from her chains, spoke gently as they covered her in layers of warm blankets, and took turns carrying her home, softly humming the songs she had sung to them as children, repeating the stories told at their bedsides, recalling every pleasant memory they could think of. Neither brother was ready to say the words out loud, but Elladan and Elrohir knew that this was the beginning of their long farewell. Their Naneth was lost herself, to her family, and to all who lived east of the Sea.

That night, Elladan asked quietly, "How do we tell Ada?"

They had made a large fire and laid their mother's swaddled body as close to the flames as they dared, with Elladan cradling her head in his lap. "How do we tell Ada what we saw?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"We do not." Elrohir said firmly.

"He will want to try and save her."

"I know. Let him try for a while," Elrohir leaned forward and stroked his mother's brow. "Then we must help him understand."

"I do not know if I am strong enough for this," Elladan sobbed, his face pale, eyes full of sorrow.

"You are not," Elrohir said. "Neither am I. But we will find comfort in helping Ada. We will serve him faithfully, and lighten his heart until the Sea calls him home." He grasped his brother by his tear-streaked jaw and turned him so that their eyes met. "I will not let you fail."

Elladan straightened with a nod and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Nor I, you."

And they didn't.

When they returned, the brothers took over their father's rule as he sat by their mother's side. Celeborn and Galadriel had come, of course, but when it was certain that nothing more could be done to save Celebrian, it was they who convinced Elrond to remain, not to travel to the Havens, for fear he would carry her onto the ship and refuse to get off, or worse, cast himself into the sea.

Arwen was a gentle comfort to all of them, but when Celeborn and Galadriel eventually returned home, they took Arwen with them at the brothers' insistence, for they had noticed what their sister refused to admit: she was bereft and struggling and would benefit from this respite as much as Celeborn and Galadriel needed to have her there.

"Haru and Haruni need you," they said. "We will look after Ada."

For the last four centuries, Elladan and Elrohir made it their mission to keep Elrond from taking himself too seriously, and to lighten his burdens with playful antics that brought a smile to his face. It was how they learned to handle most things.

They saved their weeping for the night and the privacy of their rooms. Neither of them ever knew that, while Elladan and Elrohir had promised each other not to fail their beloved Ada, Glorfindel had promised himself to look after them so they could.

Elladan made a face, unsheathed his sword, lifted it—

"Wait!" Elrohir grabbed his arm . "I have a better idea."

Elladan slumped with relief and blew out a breath. "Well, you left that until the last minute, did you not?"

Elrohir found a flat piece of flint nearby, set it beside Lusiël's neck and after murmuring a spell, maneuvered the tip of his sword around the area scraping against the stone. He flipped the blade over to the blunt side and smashed it down again and again.

It wasn't just altruism that prompted Elrohir to push his brother out of the way and proceed with this himself; Elladan had genuinely liked Laniër, but he especially went out of his way to befriend her shy cousin Lusiël.

Elrohir had wondered whether Elladan harbored romantic feelings toward Lusiël, but when asked, his brother denied it. Still, he could sense something—or at least, the beginning of something—stirring in Elladan's heart a few years ago, but the relationship could hardly advance if the Elleth gave him no encouragement, or even look him in the eye.

Elladan's affection for Lusiël, platonic or romantic, could have been used as a means to get to Melui long before this, and praise Varda it hadn't. Maybe underneath whatever had influenced Lusiël, whatever had empowered her and compelled her to murder, she harbored some sort of fondness for him, and no doubt that had saved his life.

If Elladan's theory was correct, and there was some sort of evil trinket involved in all this, it would be looking for a new owner to possess, and his friendship with Lusiël would make him the perfect choice.

Which was not going to happen, if Elrohir could help it.

He lowered his sword one last time, and a broken chain of silver bearing an emerald pendant materialized on the flat rock, accompanied by a thick, heaving, sigh of air that rustled the trees, slapped at their faces sent their hair flying around their faces.

Elrohir's arm went completely numb. His sword grew white hot, and seared the leather of his glove. Elrohir quickly tossed it from him, yanked off the glove and threw it to the ground as the full weight of their folly took his breath away. What were they thinking to try something as stupid as this?

"Look," Elladan said in a strangled voice, pointing to the rock. "Is that…"

"Amarth faeg…" Elrohir said, when he studied the necklace.

It was the same one their mother had been wearing it when kissed her family goodbye, to go visit her parents.

Which was not around her neck when Elladan and Elrohir found her nearly three weeks later, chained to the wall of that cave.

"I was wrong…" Elladan breathed, eyes rounded in shock backed up toward the nearest tree trunk. "This is no ornament left by Pallando." 5

Elrohir shook his head slowly, trying to keep his growing anxiety at bay. "This is beyond either of us; I fear that revealing will only bring forth further danger."

"What do we do?"

"I do not know," Elrohir moved to stand beside his brother and forced himself to take deep breaths. "We cannot remain in its presence, nor can we just leave it here, unguarded, lest it be taken up by an innocent with less power than you or I."

"So…" Elladan gave him a sidelong glance. "You think Lusiël was victimized, as was Saeros?"

He grasped his brother's upper arm. "But now is not the time to reflect, Gwanunig."

A pained look marred Elladan's features, but after a moment, he collected himself. "We cannot stand here and do nothing. Ada said he will have the box sent to the Ford Road, so we either take it there, or one of us goes back and gets it." He turned to Elrohir and straightened. "This is my fault; I will stay. Go meet them, and send for Ada and Glorfindel. Perhaps between the three of you—"

"What do you mean, the three of us?" Elrohir cried.

"Brother, if that thing has taken hold of me while you are gone, then you must do whatever you can to stop it. And me."

"No! I am not leaving you!"

"You must! What if someone is looking for it right now?" Elladan pleaded. "I can at least stop them, and foil whatever plans they have made! Go, Elrohir!"

As they argued, the necklace pulsed to the rhythm of their hearts, growing stronger…

Overhead, tree branches crackled and jostled. Elladan and Elrohir looked up at the dark object diving towards them. Which turned into a large bird. Which turned out to be—

Elladan's mouth fell open. "That's Lagrôval! I thought he was with Melui and Vildan!"

The falcon landed at their feet with a loud screech. Then charged at them, wings flapping in a fit of fury and impatience, forcing them to step back, again and again, until they were several yards from the body.

"Ai, gorgor!" Elrohir's chest contracted in terror. "He has been taken! Kill him, before he hurts himself or someone else!"

Both brothers pulled out their knives, flipped them to grab by their points and made ready to throw—

A shadow loomed overhead, turning everything to an unnatural dusk. Thunder shook the ground, followed by an ear-splitting crack! of white-hot lightening that struck fear into their hearts, set the surrounding trees on fire.

.

.

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Car sandh? – You think?

Galcúron – "Moonlight," Elladan's Meara mare

Gwanunig – Twin brother

Faro mhae – Good hunting

Man cerig? – What are you doing?

Prestapant – (Lit. "Full of trouble"), Elrohir's part-Meara gelding. The name pretty much explains why he had to be gelded in the first place, but it did little to curb his mischievous behavior.

.

NOTES:

1 /wiki/Misty_Mountains#cite_note-7

2 J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien (ed.), The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion: Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor: "But the mountains were the Hithaegir, the Towers of Mist upon the borders of Eradior; yet they were taller and more terrible in those days, and were reared by Melkor to hinder the riding of Oromë.

3 J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, "Many Meetings"

4 /wiki/Rivendell

5 Broken Wings, Ch. 23: /works/20519588/chapters/53774125

.