Chapter 8

Something tugged at his awareness. The slightest tug of increased pressure in his palm, the gentle touch of someone holding onto his hand. Elrond opened his eyes.

He found Estel, his small hands clasping Elrond's own, closing his fingers gently over the acorns in his palm. Not two like there had been before, but three. A smaller acorn had joined the two identical ones in his palm, another seed of life for him to protect, to safeguard and cherish. He almost smiled at the parallels to his sons if not for the fact that he knew the two older ones were facing dangers he was incapable of preventing and the youngest was standing beside him, trembling, tears streaking openly down his cheeks.

He raised his face to meet Estel's gaze and opened his arms. The boy flung himself into his embrace immediately. "Ada!" he sobbed, and if he had wanted to say more it was lost in the hitched sobs and the rush of fresh tears.

"Shh," Elrond cooed, cradling his youngest son's head protectively, "all will be well."

He felt Estel shake his head into his coat, unbelieving. The small hands formed into fists that twisted the fabric. "But," his son started, only to break off when his breath hitched again. "But," he tried again, "Ro and… and Dan. You saw them. You said their names. They are in terrible danger!"

"Shhh," Elrond said again, focusing on his youngest son while the vision-conjured images of his older children still haunted his thoughts. He tried to find the calm that Estel needed, that he would have to invoke to convince the young boy that his brothers would be alright. Even if he could not be certain himself. Dread still clung to him, refusing to relinquish its icy grip, chilling him to the core and paralyzing his tongue. Estel continued to weep into his shirt, fine tremors rocking his small frame, despite the warm breeze that had started. It brushed through leaves and twigs above, towsled Estel's unruly curls and caressed Elrond's cheeks. It held the smell of honeysuckle and carried a whisper of support, of encouragement, a reminder of old strength, stalwart belief, irrefutable hope.

It was the trees. They were reaching out to him, trying to calm him, Elrond realized. Gratitude flooded him. He had not realized how much he had needed this comfort, needed to know that someone else still carried the torch of hope, still believed in the beauty and future of Middle Earth. Too long had it felt like his burden alone. To go on hoping, striving to protect this realm when most had long forsaken it, choosing to believe in a future that seemed impossible to attain, to stay even though his heart longed for a peace he would only find again in Valinor.

Celebrian's absence weighed so heavily on him. The loss of her love, her laugh, her silent, stalwart support, her belief. She had been his rock and his comfort. When he had faltered she had been there. Her conviction never stalling, her hope never wavering. And now the trees that she had planted, the forest that she had so tenderly cared for with her wood elven touch, resonated with her strength, with her purpose, with her melody. How often must she have sung to these trees? Cared for them as they grew from nut and seed to mighty heights? He imagined he could hear an echo of her fair voice in the song that was now shared by the trees, reaching out to him with fingers of warm wind, enveloping him in an embrace of music and hope. Steadying him, lifting him up, giving him the strength to trust, to believe, to hope. And to finally find the words Estel needed to hear.

"Your brothers will be fine, Estel", he said and found that he believed it.

-o0o-

There was more to the sudden silence than just the defeat of the trolls that had caused such havoc before. Elrohir could not quite put his finger on it, could not quite marshal the thought process necessary to evaluate the feeling, the sense of wrongness. Finding Elladan took precedence.

His body protested sharply as Elrohir staggered to his feet, the abused muscles and battered ribs in his side and back screaming. But he clamped down on the pain resolutely, pushing it into a corner of his awareness where it could not impede him. Nothing would stop him from getting to his twin.

His breath came in sharp, short gasps that seemed to press his lungs against his bruised ribs with each inhale, as he staggered over to the downed troll and retrieved his sword. It lay heavy in his hand as he dragged himself back towards the forest edge, towards the last place that he had heard his brother fight. In the soft light of Ithil he saw a wide path beckoning him, smooth and inviting - and finally Elrohir realized what had been nagging at his awareness since he had regained his footing after defeating the last troll: The forest was quiet. Not only because bird song and animal sounds were still missing, but because of the trees - the trees had stilled. And they had opened a path for him to follow, one that his innate awareness of Elladan told him would take him straight to his twin.

It was strange, this sudden silence. The wind had fallen still. No leaf rustled. The trees, constantly reverberating with a sense of unease, disquiet and barely restraint contempt, seemed suddenly indifferent, almost docile. The trees were not asleep, but they had calmed. Perhaps there was hope for the forest yet - a way back towards the light. A way to bury ancient hatred, to overcome grief and abandonment. He wanted to believe it, and not only for the sake of the trees. But he had no time to dwell on it now. Elladan was waiting.

Elrohir stumbled down the path. He saw the troll first. Its large bulk was half embedded in the soft forest floor, sunken deeply into the layer of thick moss and fallen leaves of yesteryear. Marks of Elladan's swordsmanship marred its hide. The troll's hand bore a deep, sluggishly bleeding gash, clearly Elladan had made the beast pay dearly for attempting to grab him. The thought brought a grim satisfaction to Elrohir. But where was his wayward twin?

As he stepped closer he caught a sudden sound and the spark of movement. The troll's hand was moving! The beast was not yet dead. Elrohir raised his sword, weary but ready to fight this abomination if it stood between him and his twin. But, a fraction of a second later, the sound he had heard changed into a heartfelt, familiar curse. As the tension drained from his tired muscles, replaced with a sudden, ferocious wave of relief, Elrohir laughed. Sheathing his sword he hurried over, sure now that the troll was as dead as he had initially believed. It seemed that somehow, his thickheaded twin had managed to get trapped beneath the huge body as it fell and was struggling to free himself.

His brother's colorful language cut off as he undoubtedly heard his approach and his voice was scathing as he called out. "A bit of help perhaps? If you are not too busy enjoying the view."

With an apology on his lips and an amused grin on his face Elrohir hurried over to help his twin. His back protested sharply as he lifted the heavy limb of the hill troll giving Elladan enough space to free himself from his soft confinement. The smile threatened to slip from his face as he considered the depth of the impression Elladan and the troll's arm had made - if the ground had been less forgiving … it was best not to think of it. Still, as he dropped the arm of the troll and turned to Elladan, his amusement had been replaced with concern. Deep scratches crossed his twin's cheek and blood had seeped from a split lip down his chin. He was noticeably leaning against the large carcass of the downed troll for support, his right leg barely brushing the ground. And he held himself with a sense of vulnerability that was all too familiar. Elrohir suspected his twin had bruised his ribs at least as badly as he himself. It would explain the sharpness of the lingering pain from his injuries, they were likely compounded by those of Elladan.

"It is nothing," Elladan forestalled before Elrohir could even speak and the younger twin merely raised a disbelieving brow.

"It is most certainly not nothing," he corrected, but decided to spare his thickheaded twin the lecture for now. "Can you walk?"

"Not far," Elladan conceded, finally truthful, and Elrohir nodded. The night was near its darkest hour regardless and it was beyond time for them to finally truly make camp.

Coming up next to Elladan, he slipped his twin's arm over his shoulder to keep the weight off his injured leg when they set out. They did not walk far along the path that the trees had made, one that was bordered only by a rough impression of having less impeding roots and branches, as if ash and birch and pine had made an effort not to impede them further. Just out of view from the fallen trolls and their dwindling fire they stumbled into a small clearing, large enough to build a fire in its middle that would not spring to the trees. It was littered with dry branches.

After placing Elladan down, Elrohir remembered to thank the trees for their offering, even though he was not quite sure that they were responsible - or listening. Still, the thanks were heartfelt, for this place of rest was exactly what they needed. Exhaustion still dragged at him and it was with difficulty that he managed to build a fire and tend to Elladan's injuries before having his brother bind his own aching ribs.

"You should sleep," Elladan said while tying off the edge of the bandage running around his ribcage, "You did not get the chance at our last stop. I can take the first watch."

"I doubt new danger is going to find us this night. We should both rest," Elrohir argued. The forest was still quiet, almost peaceful - at least that was what he wanted to believe - and even the sound of birds and small beasts were returning to the dark wood.

But Elladan did not seem convinced. "Except perhaps the trees themselves," he replied, eyeing the trunks at the edge of the clearing darkly. Then he turned his gaze back to Elrohir. "Sleep," he repeated and Elrohir was too tired to argue further.

-o0o-

It had been a vision of the past. An event that had already taken place, Elrond now knew. The vision he had ignored for weeks, that had almost left him until the day that Gildor's message had arrived. Only his own preoccupation with his sons' whereabouts, his mounting worry, and his upset about Celebrian's clearing had conjured the vision now. Now, when it was long past the time of worry, when even help could not be sent anymore.

But it seemed help had not been necessary.

The trees whispered around him, encouraging. Carrying a single, vital message: Elladan and Elrohir were approaching Rivendell.

The trees of the Twins' Wood were old, their roots buried deep - and they reached far. Across the slopes of the Misty Mountains that hemmed the Hidden Valley in; up to the shores of the Bruinen and the very borders of his realm. Nigh to the edge of the Trollshaws if every trailer, every seedling, every sprout of the forest was counted. And somehow they had sensed his need and gotten word.

Elrond reached within himself, reached for the power of the ring on his finger and confirmed what they told. The protective power of Vilya covered the valley and he stretched it now, bent it to reach beyond its borders until he knew for himself that his sons were close. That they would be home by evening. That they were safe.

He hugged Estel close and repeated the words he had said before. "Your brothers will be fine." Then he hauled them both to their feet, feeling lighter than he had in days.

"Come. Let us return home to wait for them."

As they set out for the Last Homely House, he reached out with his mind to thank the trees. This formidable forest, this shrine to his wife's memory. He had avoided it, had forsaken the trees because he could not bring himself to visit without her. To see the place where her shadow still lingered, where the essence of her spirit, the fruits of her labors were all around him. A memory of better times that contrasted too starkly with the last image he had of Celebrian. Defeated, hopeless, having lost the joy in Middle Earth. She had not been able to find it in the valley, not in the flowers and the trees, not even in the presence of her own family.

He had been a fool, Elrond realized now, belatedly, to avoid the forest. To fear that reminder of her. After all, the image of her planting these trees for her children, of her sharing her joy in all things that grew, it was a much better image to hold on to than that of their last farewell.

And the trees had known. Patiently, they had waited for his return. Not resenting his absence, not despairing over Celebrian's departure, they had welcomed him instead. Had shared solace and support where he had expected lament and dejection. He had been remiss in not visiting sooner, but that was a mistake he would not make again.

Quietly, he began to sing. A tranquil but hopeful song to the beauty of the forest, to the stalwartness of trees, to the bond that they shared with the elves - and those of the second born that would listen, he added, looking down at the small boy by his side.

-o0o-

The sun was high in the sky above the canopy of the Old Forest by the time that Elladan woke up. Elrohir was sitting beside the remains of their fire, wiping down both their swords with a silk cloth, a simple repetitive task that his twin usually reserved for him and Elladan was instantly alert. If not for the loss of his bow, he imagined that Elrohir would be fletching arrows instead. But either one of the menial tasks did not usually leave his brother so morose - and Elrohir had yet to react to him waking up.

Elladan made a show of stretching and getting to his feet, but Elrohir remained silent, gazing into the depth of the forest without even seeing the trees Elladan imagined. Birdsong trilled in the air, and a soft breeze rustled through the leaves, bringing a scent of fresh leaves, of light and life. A reward for their efforts, yet clearly Elrohir did not see it that way. Something was weighing on his twin's mind.

"You should not have let me sleep this long," Elladan eventually broke the silence, "it will be dark again ere we arrive at Tom Bombadil's house."

"Where we will have to spend the night regardless," Elrohir was quick to point out, brushing his argument aside. He finally turned and there was a rebuke of his own in his silver eyes, accusing Elladan. "You needed the rest after facing the Old Willow and three hill trolls last night. Even you cannot go on forever and fight every creature of Mordor and Angmar without stopping to rest eventually."

Elladan's eyebrows rose. "So you saved me from my own folly?" he questioned, incredulousness swinging in his voice. What had gotten into his twin?

"As is my lot in life." There was no humor in his twin's voice this time, even though Elrohir usually joked about this very thing. Something was very wrong.

With difficulty Elladan reigned in his own sharp retort, forcing himself to remain calm. He took a breath. "You are unhappy that I did not forego the watch last night, that I did not rest immediately." It was a guess, but it was the only thing that would explain Elrohir's strange anger.

At least it drew a sigh from his twin. Elrohir laid the sword he was working on aside, his shoulders slumping as he released the tension he had, probably unknowingly, held. With it the fight seemed to drain from him as well and his voice held none of its earlier anger when he spoke again: "I… no", he answered, laying the silk cloth aside to run the hand that had held it through his hair. He had loosened his braids last night and had not yet retied them, Elladan noted absently, another curiosity. "You were right," Elrohir continued, "there is a darkness still in the forest. The trees are asleep but they have not overcome their anger, their resentment. We are merely tolerated for a time, not welcome." His twin turned to him fully then, a sheepish smile on his lips, "I am sorry, I think I have rather let their mood influence my own."

His own lips mirrored the smile that was on Elrohir's face at the admission and the obvious change that had overcome his twin. It put some of his fears to rest. Elrohir had merely opened himself up too much to the trees that surrounded him, hoping to catch a glimmer of redemption, a sign that what they had done had made a difference. His twin always longed for a measure of peace, for proof that the wanton destruction they brought to their enemies, the hatred they carried in their hearts, the anger that stained their souls would at least do some good in this world. That, though born of darkness, it could serve the light.

One day, Elladan vowed to himself, he would take his twin to face the armies of Mordor themselves, to throw down Barad-dûr and end the reign of Sauron. Bring a lasting peace that would extend into the soul of his twin, that would bring redemption. One day. For now, however, it was time to return to Rivendell, return home. The sunlight reflecting in the wild waters of the Bruinen, the crisp air streaming down from the mountains, Estel's endless cheer - those were the affirmations that Elrohir needed right now. The proof that there was something good left in this world, and that they were protecting it.

The Old Forest, unfortunately, was beyond their help. Listening to the trees' response had only deepened the troubles that lay on his twin, overshadowing their achievements, the victory of the night before. It was all too obvious now what had put Elrohir into his foul mood this morning.

"You wish we could have done more for the forest." It was a statement, not a question.

"Do you not?" Elrohir replied, looking at the trees that surrounded them with a sense of failure. "It was the elves that awakened the trees, and it was the elves who abandoned them. For uncounted yen these trees have had time to stoke their anger, to turn longing into resentment, friendship into hatred. Should we not feel accountable?"

Elladan gave the matter some thought. Elrohir was always all too eager to shoulder all the blame of the world, but berating him for it rarely helped. He waved his twin over, silently asking for a hand up so he could get to his still painful legs, but also so that he would have more time to consider his reply.

He could still feel the whispers of evil running through the air as if carried on an unseen wind, threaded between the trees like an invisible web. It was much subdued in comparison to yesterday and there was a sense of quiet peace, of a smidge of gratitude even, but the overall feeling was as Elrohir had said: the trees would allow them to leave - but they did not welcome them into their midst. Too long had they nourished the resentment they felt, too deeply were the roots of hatred embedded in the wood.

But were the trees right to feel thus? Right to turn their slow thoughts and steady hearts to darkness and hatred? The elves had awoken the trees, and then they had abandoned the forests of the world to fend for themselves. Just as they were now leaving Middle Earth, never to return. Fleeing from the spreading darkness, abandoning the second children of Illuvatar to fight the evil of Sauron or be overcome by it. Did he not, too, feel anger over this choice, over the lack of a will to fight back, to protect that which was still good in this world, to destroy the evil creations of Morgoth?

"I think," he said eventually as they set out, back through the heart of the forest, towards Tom Bombadil's house, "that we must be content with what we have achieved. We have done what Iarwain Ben-adar has asked of us and have brought a precarious peace back to the forest. We cannot expect to change it at its core. It is much older than us, too set in its ways." He waited for a beat, letting the words settle, before adding with a sly smile, "much like Glorfindel."

His twin gave a small snort of amusement but stayed otherwise silent, weighing his words against the sense of duty towards the trees that he seemed to harbor. Silence stretched between them as they made their slow, painstaking way back through the forest, but it was not uncomfortable. There was no need for further words. After a while, as the harsh light of midday had cooled towards the warmer tones of afternoon, Elrohir began to sing.

He wove the melody they had learned from Iarwain Ben-adar, the song of the trees with a melancholy rhythm from back home. A peaceful song of green branches in the fullness of spring, of Anor's rays on a golden canopy in summer, of the forest's fruits bringing joy and rebirth through autumn and winter. A hymn to the majesty of the woods, to the gifts of the forest, gladly taken and remade, shaped and crafted. The melody changed slightly then, turning sorrowful, as Elrohir sang of trees uprooted and gifts lost, of wood splintered, beauty unmade and ground into the earth.

Elladan halted, and turned to his twin, incredulous. "Are you singing a lament for your bow?"

-o0o-

tbc...

A/N: A day late, but here it is - and only one more chapter between us, our heroes and Rivendell. I do hope you continue to enjoy the story and am as always beyond grateful for any feedback or short message. If you have a moment, please send one, Thank you! :)