Chapter 54

August 27th, TA 3020

All in all, it could have been worse.

No-one else had died, for starters, and Elladan had deemed it a personal victory, so powerful was his contempt for men like Baeron and Serdil. Yet while Baeron might never fully regain the use of his hand, it was still attached to his body, as was Serdil's jaw. Both now travelled to Emyn Arnen in under the watchful eye of Faineth and Amdirfel, who had been pleased by such a mission in more ways than one. Elladan had bid them farewell upon the bridge that crossed the Dogstail and, counting out his apprentices much in the manner of a worried mother duck counting her ducklings, had set out for Bar-Lasbelin.

The rains of the previous week had abandoned the skies of Ithilien in search of some other place to shower, and the sun shone bright and merciless over the forest. Yet no-one complained about the voraciousness of the mosquitoes hunting in swarms amidst the bracken fronds, for Gaerlin had chosen to remain in Mitharlan. Last Elladan had seen him, he had been perched atop a ladder, armed with a pair of shears and a set pin to measure the extent of the damage the fire had inflicted. Siggun had been working in the courtyard below, driving a hoop over a brand-new barrel while trying to keep the children's fingers out of the way of her hammer. Though her goodbyes had been as rough as her hands, Elladan had noticed the relief in her eyes for having shed her loneliness at last.

Even Baeron's wife had seemed relieved by the turn of events, once the mold extract had cleared her body of infection and, though it would take some time for the inhabitants to repair their homes and their trust in one another, they would find a way to forgive, and even to forget.

As dusk fell over the woods, Elladan called to a halt in a small clearing that much resembled their camp on their way to Mitharlan, but smaller and cozier, without the sense of impending doom. Nested between the majestic roots of an old maple, it formed a basin surrounded on all sides by spruces in shades of green and blue, interspersed with rowan trees that lent the clearing a cheerful touch of red.

The wayfarer's tree.

Elladan chose to view it as a good omen. Unlike his last journey towards Bar-Lasbelin, where his heart had been heavy with worry and solitude, he now longed to see the valley entrance and, beyond it, the towers and turrets of the Houses of Healing. Over the last year, he had come to view them as a home inside a home; a refuge, and a way to put his sorrows aside so as to mend those of others. Now, he allowed himself to envision another future, the very one Legolas had so fervently advocated for.

Yet before that happened, Elladan, just like Siggun, had mouths to feed. His own stomach rumbled with hunger, not having seen anything besides roasted boar and forest berries for the last few days. And if his elven half allowed him to endure such a regimen without getting eaten from the inside, the prolonged austerity did set his teeth on edge, to the point where Elladan almost missed Godwyn's vegetable stew.

Almost.

Seeing how the Hopeful Three had snarled and bickered amongst themselves ever since morning, he suspected they would also benefit from a full meal and a night's rest without rain, pox or the threat of arson. Elladan, for his part, certainly welcomed the prospect as he picked up his bow and stepped beyond the spruce ramparts, leaving the apprentices to build a fire in his absence.

When he returned, less than an hour later, carrying a couple of rabbits in one hand and feeling quite proud of himself, it was Annahad's voice that welcomed him, carrying into the undergrowth.

"Those poor people," he was saying from the other side of the clearing. "I wonder what would have happened, had we not come to stop Baeron from burning them down one by one."

"I like to think they would have found the courage to fight back," Bruiven replied, his even voice muffled as he turned his back towards Elladan, crouching by the budding fire.

"And yet they have waited all this time to take up arms against him and his men. Why is that?" Dumping an armful of deadwood beside him, Taniel scoffed. "Because looking the other way is a more comfortable way to live, I would wager, than to speak up and bear the consequences."

Elladan halted, intrigued. It was not like he was eavesdropping, for these three were as discrete as a Mûmak lumbering through a thicket. Surely, they knew he could return at any moment?

"They are not like us, Taniel," Bruiven chided softly. "They are mortal, for one thing. Neither you nor I can imagine what that feels like."

Annahad merely sniffled in disdain: "Hmm. Brave of you to speak of consequences. Everyone knows your aunt is the Steward of the Women's Ward. Had any of us done what you have…."

"My aunt has nothing to do with it! Besides, it was hardly my fault if that…woman –" Taniel snapped a twig in two – "came barging in on one of my patients."

"How did she get in? Had you not closed the door?"

"Oh, do not look at me like that. I had almost forgotten how close you two have gotten, lately."

Elladan's heart sank. So, it was as he had suspected, all the while refusing to face the painful truth. Mehreen did deserve someone less…tainted, someone like Bruiven, whose sunny disposition would make her laugh and keep her happy at all times. Remembering Bruiven's failure to diagnose Ferwen's ailment, Elladan's anger at the apprentice grew tenfold.

"Do you think that being gentle on mortals will gain you any points with Lord Elladan?" Taniel was saying in the meantime. "Or by taking a sudden interest to learning Haradric? I hope he sees right through you. And speaking of mistakes, have you not almost caused Ferwen to die in childbirth?"

"She had no symptoms!" Bruiven exclaimed as he leapt to his feet. "How was I to suspect…."

"See, this is exactly my meaning. Ignorance is no excuse. Not for Mehreen, and not for those people. And if I am to blame," Taniel jabbed half a stick in Bruiven's direction, "then you should not be spared, either."

"How very…fair of you," Annahad drawled, reclining against the maple trunk as if keeping score.

"Oh, and you think we are being treated fairly? Being dragged into the wilderness to cure fools who cannot keep their instincts in check? I have not spent my entire life studying for, well, this."

Torn between consternation and contempt, Elladan shook his head under the cover of the shrubbery. He should have seen this side of Taniel much earlier, had he not been so busy, nor so reluctant to spend time with the three candidates. If anyone was to blame, it was him.

Bruiven, it seemed, was more understanding – something that should have made Elladan dislike him even more – or perhaps was he more acquainted with his side of her, for he only shook his head. "They are still people who need our help. Or did you think that healing was only about saving lives?"

"It should be, I think. We should be saving people. The right people."

"The right…?" Throwing his hands into the air, Bruiven laughed mirthlessly. "What does that even mean?"

"Why waste our time and energy helping those who harm others? Take Annahad, for instance." Taniel's tone softened as she called upon him as a witness. "Would you have saved those who killed your sister?"

"Do not speak of her!" Annahad snarled at once, half-rising in anger.

"Now that is cold. Even for you." A note of steel had crept into Bruiven's voice, so unlike his usual agreeableness that even Taniel was sobered.

"I am sorry." She sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, her back hunched in misery. "It is just that I have trained for his ever since I was an elfling. I want this more than anything, yet I feel that everything I do is never enough." She tossed the stick into the fire, watching it consume itself in sullen silence.

"Yet you are the one Lord Elladan will choose, I know it," Annahad wearily declared as he, too, returned to his seat. "You are the best of us all, and certainly the most determined.

"And what will you do if that happens?" Taniel asked in a small voice.

"I have heard that King Thranduil and Lady Galadriel are mustering an army to oust the remaining orcs from Moria. I would join them in this endeavor."

"And give up healing altogether?"

Annahad shrugged. "If I must. Helping people comes in more than one form, and after what I have seen here, I would stop men like Baeron before they are able to do any wrong. Before even it comes to mending what evil they have caused. And what will you do?"

"The same I have done before," Bruiven stated firmly.

"Even if you must live with the shame of having been cast aside for another?"

An easy thing to do, if one had the favor of a much more precious someone than Elladan himself. All of a sudden, the clearing took on a gloomy air, the red of the rowan berries akin to spilled blood. Elladan stepped into the light, his face impassive though his soul was aching once more.

The Valar must have decided to mock him for the rest of his life, for it was a cruel choice that now lay before him. Cruel, yet so very simple.

How easy it would be, to send Bruiven away for a few years under this or that pretense, using his recent failure as an excuse until their mutual fondness waned…. Mehreen need not know, so that her gentle heart would not suffer because of Elladan's wickedness. Would remain the decision as to whom to choose, between Taniel and Annahad – the lesser of two evils, and the price to pay for his own happiness.

So simple….

Having heard what he just had, Elladan knew what he must do.

oOoOoOo

Elladan had slept, but his dreams had been restless; dim shells filled with unnamed troubles and unseen threats that left him longing for the forgetfulness of slumber yet loath to go back to that grey, disquieting place. Gritty-eyed and heart pounding he slowly pushed himself up from his resting place amongst the maple roots and surveyed the camp.

Both Taniel and Annahad slept soundly, each in the manner befitting their character: Annahad curled up in a fetal position with his hands entwined against his chest, and Taniel stretched out at full length, her arms folded over her chest. Only Bruiven was missing, the space in the moss where he had lain still sunken, as though he had left it but moments ago.

Perhaps had the evening's discussion upset him as much as Elladan?

The fire crackled, tamed and gentle, confined to its circle of stone with no apparent will to escape. Elladan stirred the firewood with one of the twigs Taniel had gathered, noticing a new singe upon the back of his sleeve as the flames rose to greet him, like a domestic cat unaware of the wounds its feral cousin had inflicted. The cheeky call of a whip-poor-will sounded from the canopies above. Voles and hedgehogs scurried through the leafy undergrowth, keeping to the shadows lest the yellow eyes of an owl found them, and its talons made them its prey.

Bruiven still had not returned.

Pushing himself to his feet with a grunt of annoyance, Elladan searched the fallen foliage for signs of disturbance, where a novice's feet had disturbed the seasons-old carpet of rustling, dry leaves. The trail was not a difficult one to follow and Elladan did so with little hurry, both unworried and unwilling to happen upon Bruiven all the while knowing that he would have to speak with him sooner or later. Before noon tomorrow they would reach Bar-Lasbelin, and some things were best dealt with beforehand.

Much like his grandmother's Mirror, Elladan saw in the apprentice all that could have been his: a peaceful, sorrowless life. An equable, hopeful temper nourished by such a life, with a penchant to see the best in others instead of Elladan's recklessness and morose caution.

And Mehreen's affection to crown it all, like lattice over an apple pie.

The trail led him to an old beech, its short, conk-covered bole sprouting long branches that stretched towards the skies like the arms of a supplicant. Bruiven had splayed his hands over the steely bark, pressing his forehead to the trunk with his eyes closed, and Elladan felt very much an intruder.

"Forgive me," he murmured, turning on his heels. "I had not meant to disturb you."

"…But only to ensure I am still alive?" Bruiven smiled sadly against the bark. "It is I who did not mean to cause you any worry, my Lord, though I fear it is a bit late for that."

Biting the inside of his cheek, Elladan huffed noncommittally for all reply. The darkest hour of the night was an ill-chosen moment to cast a blame.

"I had meant to apologize," Bruiven announced as he was about to leave him be, "for having missed the signs of Ferwen's distress. Though Mistress Redhriel and I had inspected her and her children that very morning, and found nothing alarming about their state, I must have missed something for it to have worsened so suddenly."

"Such things happen," Elladan ground out, with little choice but to concede his young rival this victory. The sudden onset of swelling and increased tension was a risk inherent to twin pregnancy, undetectable even by the best of healers. And if even persnickety Redhriel had found no fault with Bruiven's examination….

"Nevertheless, I am glad you were present to correct my mistake. I dare not imagine what would have happened otherwise." With a last sigh against the beechen trunk, Bruiven parted with the tree as one does with an old friend. "An old habit," he demurred upon noticing Elladan's stare. "I have left all of my friends in Lórien, and the trees of Bar-Lasbelin are a bit young and impish for my liking. Now, I would not keep you from your dreams, my Lord. I am ready to follow you back, if you so wish."

Must be a Sinda thing, Elladan mused, remembering the awed look that had lingered in Legolas' eyes after his return from Fangorn. He had not imagined Bruiven as being fond of the trees' unassuming company and their unhurried wisdom, just as he had not expected him to apologize. It led him to wonder what else he had missed – an unpleasant path to send his tired mind wandering upon.

"Annahad is right," Bruiven added after a short while of them traipsing through the woods. The twigs and curled-up leaves from the previous winter snapped and crackled under his steps, obnoxiously loud in comparison to Elladan's. "You shall find in Taniel a determined, if strong-willed, apprentice, but with your guidance she will rise to heights even she dared not imagine."

"Is this what you would expect of this position?" Elladan asked, struggling to keep his unease from showing, "to rise high in others' eyes?"

"Oh, no." Tossing his golden tresses from one side to another with a rueful shake of his head, Bruiven chuckled. "Such an ambition was never mine to begin with."

"And what was it, then?"

"I am afraid you will be disappointed upon hearing it, my Lord, for I never had one in the first place. There is no tradition of healing in my family I could be compelled to follow, nor do I harbor a motive for being here other than it feeling like the right thing to do. No vengeance drives me, no great plan nor pressure other than the one I put upon myself." Bruiven shrugged. "Even my parents expect me to someday understand the oddness of my ways and find a less…fanciful occupation."

Elladan tried to imagine what his own father's wish for his future could have been, had his sons not chosen to follow his footsteps of their own free will. They had never spoken about it, and even Lord Elrond's disapproval upon seeing Elrohir and himself abandon the path of healing for that of revenge – albeit for a time – had been stored away in that deep, dark coffer of his fathomless mind. Their mother…now she would have pleaded and cajoled to get her way, and might even have succeeded, had her plight not sent them hurtling down that very road in the first place.

"And will you? Find, one, I mean?" Elladan inquired, his gaze trained upon his feet as though indifferent to the answer.

"Alas, I fear it is too late for me. I am quite contaminated with the engrossing and utterly immodest need to help those less fortunate than I am in terms of health or safety."

"Now that is a flaw if there ever was one."

"So I am told, my Lord."

The shimmer of flames peeked through the rowan boughs, reflecting on its scarlet clusters. "What a waste of time if would be," Elladan ventured, halting before the clearing threshold, "to try redeem one as seriously affected as yourself. Perhaps it would be best to embrace this strangeness of yours, and see where it leads you?"

"My Lord," Bruiven frowned, uncomprehending, "surely you cannot mean…?"

"One does not recover from such an addiction. Believe me, I have tried." Extending a hand, Elladan steeled himself to endure the bittersweet privilege of training Bruiven for the decades to come. After all, had he not vowed to see to Mehreen's happiness, and ensure that the man she chose was worthy of her love? What better way, then, to both keep this oath and fulfill his duty? "I know a hopeless case when I see one, which is why I would offer you the position, if you still want it."