-o0o-
The place was exactly like it had always been and yet nothing like it. The center of the forest was still a clearing, but where before it seemed the trees were growing close to bask in the sunshine that filtered through the leaves here, standing reverent guard over the magic that they sheltered within, now it seemed the trees actively shunned the place.
The oldest of them had died but not fallen, and weeds and thickets, rife with thorns, had overgrown the clearing. Between them were left the sad remnants of new growth, failed before they could ever reach height, they were left half decayed and covered in moss.
And the bench that he had had his craftsmen build for Celebrian, the one that had always stood in the sun filled center of this peaceful clearing, was hidden beneath vines and rot and thorns. Darkness had invaded the forest and struck at its heart - as now it struck at Elrond's.
He barely strangled the sob that threatened to escape his throat. All the beauty of the forest, all the memories of his cherished wife, here, happy, at peace. It all was rotting, choked in weeds, strangled by brambles, lost.
He could see it so clearly now. Celebrian had been right. The world was a dark place. Sauron's influence was ever spreading - and not even Imladris was safe, not even Vilya's influence could keep it thus. Nothing was left free of the stain that rested on Middle Earth. This land was already lost to the elves. Why fight for what pitiful remnants of a beautiful past that still remained?
A small hand clasped his suddenly, tenderly, and it was only under that touch that Elrond noticed he had balled his own hands into fists as he fought the rising terror of the sight before him.
"Ada?" Estel's voice was full of concern. And his silver eyes spoke of his need to know what was wrong, to help, mingled with a nigh endless depth of hope and trust. A trust that was so easily disappointed.
He could remember when the twins and Arwen had called him thus, had looked at him with the conviction that he could right all the wrongs in this world. That trust had been lost when Celebrian had been waylaid, when he had failed to rescue her from the damage inflicted upon her, when he had failed to prevent it. What good were his powers when they could not protect the ones he loved? What good was clinging to Middle Earth when it had taken from him all those that he held dear?
Arwen was gone, fled into the Golden Wood and her grandmother's embrace. Her absence was a festering wound in Imladris that did not heal, that could not scab until she returned. Much like the dark clearing around him had suffered when her mother left, her departure had withered the heart of all Rivendell. His realm could not protect her, like it could not protect her brothers. They were out looking for danger once more. Lost to him in different ways, but lost none-the-less. They spurned the protection he offered, the concern he held for them. How could they when they cared so little for their own safety, their own peace?
His feet seemed suddenly unbearably heavy, his back laden with such burdens, that he marveled how he had managed to walk all the way to the forest in the first place. Heavily he sank onto the overgrown bench, feeling its cold lifeless metal grate into his bones, chilling him to the core. The sun's rays were hidden and a cold chill gripped the clearing. Why had he come here? This infernal cold, this gloomy dark - never had he felt Celebrian's absence so clearly.
-o0o-
Darkness rushed out of the tree, bleeding from its branches like drops of rain, enveloping Elladan whole but for a small sliver of space around him, held free by Tom Bombadil's song and by his own fëa, enveloping him like a shield. His voice almost faltered under the onslaught that followed, rage burned through his mind, flaying his thoughts as the Old Man Willow turned its might against his, seeking to weaken his resolve, to strike down his defenses. The darkness pressed closer, brushing against the light of his fëa, staining its edges, and Elladan's circle of safety receded. The tree might have succeeded in bringing him down if not for the sudden appearance of another light at Elladan's side. Elrohir!
His brother was fighting back. Cloaked in the bright light of his fëa, Elrohir pushed back against the darkness, advancing on the willow in even, measured steps, his hands still outstretched, beseeching. His lips formed the words Iarwain Ben-adar had taught them, wove the melody of power. Of peace Elrohir sang, and of rest, of tranquility and forgiveness. Elladan wanted to shout.
He saw his twin's attempts for the folly they were. He had felt the Old Willow in his mind, had shared in its rage and hatred, and he knew there would be no forgiveness, no peace. The tree would not stop unless forced.
But before he could shape the words of his warning cry the willow struck out. Light returned as it dropped the vision of darkness, blinding for just the second that it took the tree to whip up its roots and strike them at Elrohir, fast as a viper. Wood cracked and splintered, roots snapped in two, but Elrohir fell, and the unforgiving roots buried him beneath them, grinding down. Digging back into the ground with Elrohir stuck beneath them.
His twin gasped.
Elladan reacted.
Power exploded from his fëa, and the song, so weak a moment ago, fell from his lips with renewed vigor, renewed purpose. He did not offer the Willow peace and tranquility, he commanded it to retreat, to quieten, to sleep.
The roots pressing down on Elrohir creaked and stilled. Then they withdrew. Like a wolf cowed by the angry flames of a lit branch, the tree retreated before Elladan's light, before the power of his anger. He advanced until he was at Elrohir's side, until he could be sure his brother was freed. Then he stepped further, pressing on. Only when the tree stilled and settled, when the darkness that had lingered on the shore of the Withywindle departed, only then did he stop the song.
A sudden stillness fell.
And as weariness settled into his limbs, Elladan sat down heavily next to Elrohir. In the newfound stillness their breaths seemed unduly loud as they both fought to regain their breath and collect their strength.
Elrohir struggled into a sitting position beside him, resting his back against the same stone. Elladan watched his moves, gratified to see that they belied no grave hurt. With effort he mastered a lopsided half-smile for Elrohir, exhausted but relieved. "I did say you had no ear for music."
His twin did not deign to answer, only glowering in response. And with a breathless laugh that turned into a weary sigh Elladan leaned back and closed his eyes. By Illuvatar, he was weary.
At least the forest seemed calmer now. It was not free of the lingering evil that still hung in the air, but the feeling of dark rage was subdued, Elladan thought, at rest. And yet, it hung in a delicate balance. Hopefully, it would be many long years before the trees overcame this stupor, before the Old Willow raised them anew to hatred and anger.
He opened his eyes at Elrohir's small hiss of discomfort and followed his twin's moves with concern as Elrohir gently massaged his side, trying to ease the pain that the roots of the willow had caused. "How do you fare?" Elladan asked.
Elrohir made light of his lingering pain. "The tree has bruised my ribs," he said, "but you have rather bruised my ego more."
Elladan chuckled. "You will live."
"I will," Elrohir confirmed, "after all this time I am well acquainted with the hardships of having a twin." His quiet laughter fell into the silence at the edge of the Withywindle like rain onto dry soil, and Elladan closed his eyes again, letting the sound drive out the lingering memories of seeing Elrohir buried beneath the thick roots of the ancient tree, of feeling the pain lance through their bond as the tree mercilessly pressed down on his twin's legs and chest, seeking to crush, to devour, to destroy.
And still the darkness of the willow lingered, subdued but not cleansed - and all too soon Elrohir's laughter faded. "The willow," he began and Elladan opened his eyes and turned to his twin at the strange tone in his voice, "just before it let go I got the feeling that it tried to speak. It impressed on me a feeling of destruction, and of a duty that I must see to. I think it spoke of the same evil that Iarwain Ben-adar told us to seek."
Their eyes met just as a new sound rose around them: the swift rush of many clawed feet hurrying through the forest. The branches of the Willow were suddenly crawling with black squirrels, as if a mighty nest had been disturbed. The dark animals rushed forth, jumping from branch to branch, from the willow to neighboring trees along the Withywindle and onward, deeper into the wood, always heading west and south. And in their wake, the branches of the trees they passed seemed to coil backward, to make way, opening a path where a moment ago none had existed. An invitation. A challenge. A command. Their mission was not yet completed. The forest demanded aid.
Elladan sighed, but when he turned back to his twin he found only determination in Elrohir's silver eyes. Despite the close call that had been his encounter with the Old Willow, despite the pain that still marred their bond, Elrohir remained determined to seek that other evil, to help the forest and its trees. Trying to right a wrong, fulfill a duty that was not theirs but for a distant relation to the ancient elves who had awoken the trees. Elladan sighed. It was rather like his twin.
But whether it be for a sense of duty to the trees or a misplaced feeling of guilt over their abandonment, the fact remained that the darkness they had come to rout, to eradicate, was yet unmet. And now that the influence of the Old Willow had receded he could feel the tendrils of another evil sparking in the distance, moving through the forest.
The darkness that had awoken the trees to their anger in the first place - and this was a more familiar foe: The hands of the Enemy were at work here. He could practically taste it on the air: the foul stench of Morgoth's creatures. And whether it served the trees or no - Elladan would put an end to all of the foul beasts that were despoiling Middle Earth.
But Elrohir had been hurt and the sun had all but dipped below the horizon in their struggle with the old willow tree. "Perhaps we should rest," Elladan suggested.
Elrohir shook his head. "Not here at any rate. I do not trust the quiet of the willow, its aura is still too dark," he mustered the silent tree darkly, "its thoughts are sluggish but it is not asleep."
Elladan nodded. That assessment aligned with what he himself was feeling. "Very well. Let us follow this new path then," he gestured at the avenue that had been left in the black squirrels' wake. "Perhaps we will find a better spot to rest along the way."
He helped Elrohir to his feet, letting go only once his twin gave him a reassuring nod. Together they set out. Save for a slight limp that faded quickly his twin seemed ready to face this next darkness. And so was he.
-o0o-
"Ada?", Estel asked again, his small voice quivering when his father still did not acknowledge him, did not even seem to remember his presence. A cold gust of wind blew through the clearing, tearing at his hair and nipping at his exposed ears. Where had the sunshine gone? And what was wrong with his father?
He looked around, frantic, trying to figure out what was wrong, and more importantly how he could fix it. His father needed him!
He let go of Elrond's hand as his ada sat down on the abandoned metal bench that stood in the heart of the open space, probably not even noticing how the green trailers that wrapped around it made space to accommodate him. How it shifted its embrace of the metal and stilled beside him instead.
If Estel had needed any more proof that this forest was alive, he had it now. And in the rustling of the leaves overhead he thought he could hear their quiet murmur, their concern for his father. Worry pulsed through the forest, sprang from tree to tree like a nimble squirrel. But why?
His gray eyes roamed the center of the forest, alighting on the plants that covered the ground, ivy and honeysuckle, and something that looked like raspberry though it was hard to say without the tasty fruits hanging from the branches. The trailing vines covered almost every free surface, as if enshrining it, protecting the clearing and the bench at its center. Shrouding everything with a thick, green blanket.
He looked up and saw that the trees closest to the bench had no leaves, their branches bare and withered - though their bark remained green, wrapped in soft moss and ivy leaves. They almost seemed like reverent sentinels, statues of remembrance guarding the forest. But they were dead - was this what had saddened his father so? Even trees did not live forever, Estel knew, but maybe his ada had known these trees? Had talked to them when they were still acorn and nut?
Estel's eyes fell on something on the ground then, scattered by the wind at the trees' roots. Acorns! At the sight an idea began to grow, a way to return his father's joy and to honor the forest at the same time. A way to fix everything. Excited, he ran back to his ada's side and grabbed his hand, pulling insistently.
"Ada," he said with a smile, "come. I need your help."
-o0o-
A/N: Thank you to anyone who is still reading this story and following the adventures of our heroes. I would love to hear what you think about this latest chapter.