History Lessons, The Second Age, by Nilmandra

Chapter 11: Overwhelmed

Elrond awoke as something silky tickled his nose. Even as his mind wished to brush away the annoyance, his arms instinctively knew that they cradled something fragile and of great value and held on gently. His instinct to roll away and return to sleep was further blunted when a soft sigh invaded his consciousness. His eyes focusing reluctantly, Elrond realized that it was strands of Arwen's hair that were teasing him and he carefully smoothed them down. She sighed again and snuggled against him.

A quick glance about the campsite revealed Elladan nearly asleep on watch and Glorfindel in as deep a sleep as he remembered seeing the elf, one hand resting lightly on Elrohir. Elrond sighed. The night had been as long as he remembered.

The previous evening Elrond had decided not to sedate Arwen, as she had not seemed to be in pain that would prevent her from sleeping. She had drifted off as darkness fell, but night terrors had invaded her path of dreams. Twice she had awakened screaming, clutching at his tunic as she attempted to hold on and not fall into the river. Elrond had managed to calm her both times, using all of his healing ability to chase away the fears that plagued her and push her back into sleep. Elrohir he had drugged, for the pain in his son's leg had increased significantly after standing, but Arwen's screams had awakened him as well. His normally good natured son had been in pain and unable to return to sleep or to help himself become comfortable, and frustration had overcome his normal restraint.

Elrond let his gaze rest on his sleeping son, and felt pity well up within him as he saw the tear tracks that still stained the now peaceful face. Elrohir had been silent after an initial moan of pain had escaped him upon waking. Elrond had noted his son's distress, but he had focused on calming Arwen. Elladan had tried to tend his brother, but Elrohir had been fretful and crabby and Elladan had finally told him to try to sleep again.

‘Quit telling me to what to do!' Elrohir had cried . Elladan had looked shocked and been rendered speechless at his twin's outburst. He had reached out to Elrohir, but Elrohir had pulled away. ‘ Do not touch me! '

Elrohir's outburst had awakened Arwen, who had just fallen back to sleep. She had jumped, startled, and hit her injured hand against the ground. Bursting into tears, she had cried in pain. Elrond had gathered her close, soothing her, and then realized that Arwen's sobs were not the only ones he was hearing. He had looked over to see Elrohir's shoulders shaking. The sound was muffled, as Elrohir attempted to suppress any noise by burying his face in his blanket. Elladan was sitting back on his heels, hurt and confusion on his face, his hand falling limply back to his side as he watched his twin sob.

Glorfindel had been on watch, walking the perimeter of the camp, when he heard the commotion. He had returned, quickly surveyed the situation and chosen Elladan to comfort. Elrond smiled at the memory. What he had thought would be least helpful turned out to be a good choice. Glorfindel had knelt down next to Elladan, wrapping an arm about his shoulders and squeezing gently. ‘I do not know what to do,' Elladan had admitted softly. ‘I am only making him feel worse .'

Glorfindel had answered softly, ‘ Sometimes when someone feels this bad, they do not know what will make them feel better. It must be very frustrating for Elrohir, but he knows you are not to blame. Will you go refill the waterskins? I, at least, would like a cool drink .'

Elladan had smiled gratefully, glad for something to do, and gone to do Glorfindel's bidding. Glorfindel had sat near Elrohir, and gently stroked his hair while remaining silent. Elrohir had eventually reached out his still torn and bruised fingers, seeking comfort, and Glorfindel had simply sat and held his hand, stroking the dark head, until the sobs subsided into sleep.

The camp had been calm until nightmares again tormented Arwen, and her screams once again roused the whole camp. Elrohir had jerked upright in surprise and fear, and promptly fallen over in pain and dizziness. Thus had their night been spent.

Now, sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees, shining off the waters of the flooded river and invading the camp uninvited. Glorfindel stirred, finally sitting up and stretching. He blinked at the sun, then looked down at his young charge. He traced a tear track with his fingertip.

“I seldom wish Anor would return to sleep and allow Ithil a repeat performance, but on this day I do,” yawned Glorfindel.

Elladan jerked upright at the sound of Glorfindel's voice. He looked around, surprised, then flushed in embarrassment. “I fell asleep,” he muttered, mortified.

Elrond cradled his daughter close. “Perhaps they will sleep for a while yet.” He paused, looking at the rising sun for a moment. “Perhaps we will all nap while we can.”

Elladan looked at the river too, his eyes brightening. “Adar, do you think we could somehow have the makings of a mattress sent over in the basket? Elrohir is so uncomfortable on the hard ground.”

“Perhaps,” answered Elrond, “but it will take several days to have anything sent.”

Although Elrond had not meant his words to be discouraging, they had that effect. Elladan's shoulders slumped, Glorfindel sighed, and even Elrond felt a momentary despair. “We will send word across the river,” he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. “Better to have the items in a few days than not at all.”

* * *

Elrond sighed softly as he eased Elrohir back to the ground. He could feel his son's heart racing and hear the slight gasps masquerading as breaths, but worse was the despair and frustration that emanated from his child. Elrohir had wanted to rise, but had not been able to balance himself. An overwhelming desire to push Elrohir into sleep battled with a parental desire to see Elrohir persevere through this trial, and Elrond felt the desire to make his child rest winning out.

“Elrohir,” he began, but he was interrupted by an anguished cry from his son. Elrohir flung his arm over his eyes, his chest heaving as he struggled to control himself. Elrond drew in a deep breath. “Elrohir, do you wish me to help you rest, or do you want to be left alone for a while?”

“Please leave me alone,” Elrohir choked out, his fist clenching.

Elrond kissed his son on the head and whispered, “Call me if you need anything.”

Elrond rose and walked away from where Elrohir lay. The whole camp was tense and quiet, and Elrond felt the frustration of knowing Elrohir wished to be alone, yet could not be left that way.

“Elladan, would you play with me?” asked Arwen.

“What do you want to play?” replied Elladan. He had been slumped against the large rock near the cooking fire, idly studying a leaf he held in his hands, but looked up and smiled at his sister.

“I do not know. I was hoping you knew something to play,” said Arwen sadly.

Elladan held out his arms to her, and Arwen gladly walked the few short steps to him. She sat in his lap, seemingly content even if Elladan had no ideas for play. Seeing his youngest occupied, Elrond sat down and closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax in meditation. He was feeling the stress of the last several days, and the lack of sleep for the last several nights was taking its toll on him. He had drifted far in meditation when he heard Glorfindel's voice.

“Elladan, come walk along the ridge with me,” said Glorfindel from the edge of camp. “The view of the rivers is quite spectacular from up here.”

Elrond opened his eyes, bringing his mind back to the present and reaching for Arwen. Her eyes had drifted half closed and she dozed in Elladan's arms. Elladan gently shifted her to Elrond's arms, and then stood. Elrond settled back down with Arwen cuddled in his lap, and smiled as she yawned and opened her eyes. She started suddenly, sitting up.

“Elladan!” she called. “Where are you going?”

“I am going to walk with Glorfindel. I will be back in a few minutes,” he reassured her.

Elrond watched in amazement as Arwen's face contorted in anger. “You said you would play with me!”

“Arwen, sweetheart, you fell asleep. Nap with Ada, and when you wake up, I will be back and we will play then,” offered Elladan.

Arwen's gaze had swept to Glorfindel, and she unleashed her fury on him. “This is all your fault, Glorfindel! You always take my brothers away from me! Elladan is playing with me!” Her fury ended in sobs of distress, and Elrond pulled her to his chest. As he rocked Arwen in his arms, he looked up to see Elladan sitting down again at the rock, dejection and sadness expressed clearly on his face. Glorfindel was leaning against a tree, his gaze focused on an interesting spot on the ground. Elrond sounded a short whistle, rather than using words to gain their attention. He motioned for them to go. After a long moment of indecision, Elladan rose, and he and Glorfindel walked off together.

Elrond stroked Arwen's hair as he soothed her, and she clung to him as if brokenhearted. She was so tired, and dark circles were evident under her eyes. She had been uncomplaining about her discomfort, but she was feeling the limitations of not having both hands, of not being able to run and play, and not having any of her usual playthings with her. Her outburst might be attributed to that, but he recalled how Arwen had rebuffed Glorfindel the morning the twins and Glorfindel had left Imladris, and realized that she was jealous of the elf.

A smile crossed his face and he had to keep from laughing and rousing her when she was finally calming down. The thought of his little Arwen being jealous of Glorfindel spending time with her brothers was somehow both amusing and endearing. Nonetheless, her jealousy would need to be addressed. He felt her relax in his arms as she drifted into sleep again, and allowed his own eyes to close as he decided to rest with her. They would deal with Arwen's jealousy when she was less tired, less uncomfortable and more rational.

* * *

Glorfindel and Elladan walked silently for several minutes, as Glorfindel led them to a spot on the high ridge. Glorfindel could feel Elladan's despondency, for he wore it like a cloak about him. Elladan had always taken his responsibility to his siblings very seriously; though a twin, he was eldest in both birth order and in how he perceived the order of his world. Glorfindel had long thought his outlook came from his personality rather than from which minute he had been born. Yet today, the siblings he cherished had both had harsh words for him. While intellectually he knew they were stressed, that did not lessen the pain.

“I did not know you were holding Arwen,” Glorfindel finally broke the silence.

Elladan shrugged. “She was sleeping.”

“Arwen and Elrohir are both stressed beyond anything they have ever experienced before,” offered Glorfindel.

“Even when Elrohir was in awful pain, and suffering terribly with his breathing, he did not act like this,” replied Elladan, hurt in his voice.

“Elrohir was fighting for his life then. He needed you desperately, and your adar too. But now he is fighting for his independence. He is feeling better, but still has to depend on us for everything. He is terribly frustrated by this, and he is still in pain and not sleeping well. None of these reasons lessen how you feel, Elladan, but you need to keep your perspective. He is not angry with you. Knowing Elrohir, when he regains his perspective, he will be appalled at how he treated you,” explained Glorfindel.

Elladan was silent as he considered what Glorfindel had said. Glorfindel remained quiet, giving Elladan time to think, and instead allowed his gaze to roam over the countryside. The view was beautiful, and the rivers in their raging glory were spectacular to look upon. The power of the water was immense, reshaping the ground it passed through and carrying away all that stood in its way. It reminded Glorfindel of how small and fragile each life was, and how easily a life could be extinguished. Suddenly, movement on the west side of the Hoarwell caught his attention, and he walked to the edge of the small clearing.

“Elladan!” he called. A broad grin spread over his face as he motioned to the tiny figures moving towards them. “We are soon to have guests in our humble camp.”

‘But how?” Elladan was stunned. “Garthon could not have made it to Imladris, and no one from Imladris could have made it that far south . . . . It is Celeborn and Galadriel!” he exclaimed in sudden recognition. “But how did they know?”

Glorfindel laughed. “Ask not how your daernaneth knows things.”

“They should be here by nightfall,” said Elladan excitedly.

Glorfindel grinned again as he followed Elladan, who was already hurrying back to camp to share the good news.

* * *

A cry of pain roused Elrond from his nap. He sat up immediately, Arwen still asleep in his arms. Placing her on a blanket, he jumped to his feet and raced to Elrohir's side. His son was lying sprawled face down on the ground, his leg twisted beneath him and his fingers dug into the dirt and grass. Elrond had reached him when he heard Elrohir finally exhale and then begin moaning in agony.

Expert fingers quickly examined the splinted leg and now twisted knee, and Elrond had to suppress the frustration that rose within him as he felt the new damage. “This is going to hurt, Elrohir,” Elrond warned him, and then gently turned him over on to his back. The intense pain in the twisted leg rose as Elrond straightened it, and Elrohir cried out again. The pain diminished somewhat then, and Elrohir's breaths came in gasping heaves.

“Elrohir, look at me,” said Elrond firmly as he placed a hand on either side of Elrohir's face.

Elrohir opened his eyes to face his father, and cried out, “I am sorry, Adar! I am sorry . . .” He grasped his father's hands, his breaths becoming more rapid and ragged as the pain and panic and guilt overwhelmed him.

“Elrohir, focus on me!” repeated Elrond. “Breathe in, now out. Keep your eyes on me. Breathe, Elrohir.” As Elrohir did as instructed and began to calm, Elrond gathered his healing power and focused it into his son. Pushing away the panic and fear, Elrond replaced it with peace and calm. He felt Elrohir relax beneath him, and then his eyes glazed over and finally closed.

Elrond sat back on his heels, allowed himself a moment to recover, and had begun to remove the splint from Elrohir's leg when another heartrending voice broke the silence.

“Help me! Ada, Elrohir, help!” screamed Arwen as terror again invaded her dreams.

Elrond listened to her scream as fresh blood seeped through the bandages on his son's leg

* * *

Elladan heard his brother's cry just as he began to return to camp. Fear filled his heart as he sensed his twin's distress, and he leapt forward in a run. They were almost back to camp when Elrohir cried out again, and then a moment later Arwen began to scream in terror. Elladan stopped abruptly as he skidded into the camp, torn as to which sibling to attend first.

“Help Arwen,” directed Glorfindel, who did not slow but raced to where Elrond knelt near Elrohir.

Elladan gathered Arwen in his arms, holding her close. “Arwen, you are all right. I have you, sweetheart, you are not going to fall,” he soothed her. She gradually came awake, still hiccupping sobs, and then grabbed on to Elladan as if he were her lifeline. He rubbed her back and whispered to her, calming her, but all the time his eyes were focused across the camp.

Elrond had removed the bandages and splint from Elrohir's leg, bright red blood staining the white linen, and Elladan could easily read the grim determination on his father's face.

“What happened?” Elladan finally asked.

Elrond did not look up from his work. “I do not know, exactly. I heard him cry out and found him crumpled on the ground with his leg twisted beneath him.”

Elladan saw the tear running down his father's cheek. He knew better than to speak while his father concentrated on setting bone back into place, but that did not stop his thoughts. I am sorry I was not here to help you, Adar. I should have stayed at Elrohir's side, regardless of his wishes. Forgive me, Adar . His thoughts intensely focused on Elrohir, he felt a sudden sharp pain in his leg as his mind registered the grinding of bone on bone. He hissed at the unexpected discomfort, then allowed it to flow through him as he realized he was again feeling Elrohir's pain.

* * *

Elrond wrapped the last strip of linen around the new split, this one now bracing the strained knee as well, and then sat down on the hard ground beside his son. Glorfindel had washed Elrohir's face and hands, and brushed the twigs and leaves from his long hair. Elrond now stroked the dark head absently. I wish I had given him no choice and simply helped him to rest earlier . A soft groan escaped him as strong fingers began massaging his neck and shoulders, and Elrond leaned into Glorfindel's comforting presence.

“Even in war we had tables to work on when tending our patients,” said Elrond tiredly.

Glorfindel laughed softly. “We were returning with good news when we heard Elrohir cry out. Would you like to hear it or be surprised?”

Elrond groaned. “Please, any good news right now would be welcome. Has a bridge suddenly built itself across the river?”

“No,” answered Glorfindel, his strong hands still working the kinks from Elrond's back. “A large party approaches from the south. Celeborn and Galadriel.”

Elrond felt a wave of relief sweep over him. If Galadriel had had a vision, she might even be bearing needed supplies that could make Elrohir more comfortable. Their guards could keep watch, sparing Glorfindel and Elladan that duty. Elrond had not realized that tears were slipping down his cheeks until he felt a gentle hand brush the wetness away.

“Elrohir will find this lesson painful and humbling,” said Glorfindel.

Elrond leaned forward to kiss the dark head next to him. “I had considered giving him no option earlier today. I had thought to just make him rest, but reminded myself he is an adult and needs to learn to cope with difficult situations. So I allowed him the choice, to be left alone or accept my aid. He wished to be left alone. Part of me sorely regrets allowing him any choice.”

“I think the twins both felt they were trying out their wings, being independent on this trip, even if I was along. Now suddenly, Elrohir is more helpless than he has ever been. In addition to being dependent, he is in pain and very uncomfortable. This situation would try the most patient of elves,” mused Glorfindel.

“This situation is trying my patience,” admitted Elrond in a barely audible voice. “These are my children, and it is difficult to see them suffer.”

Glorfindel gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Adar, Glorfindel, there is a signal from across the river,” called Elladan softly.

Glorfindel rose and walked to the riverbank. “There are more elves from Imladris present. They have supplies to send over,” he called back up to Elrond and Elladan.

A short while later, Glorfindel reappeared with a bundle in hand. “This first bundle is for Arwen,” he announced. “The note indicates this is the first of many baskets to come over.”

Elladan unwrapped just a corner of the package, a smile crossing his face. Arwen was dozing on his shoulder, and he shook her gently. “Arwen, wake up. Gifts from home have arrived for you.”

Arwen gradually awoke, her eyes still heavy and dark. She rested her face against Elladan's chest and fingered the package absently.

“Would you like me to open it for you?” asked Elladan.

When she nodded, he opened one particular item first. Arwen's face lit up immediately and with a cry of delight she hugged her doll, tears of joy streaming down her face. “I thought she was lost forever! My doll! My doll!”

Elrond could see that someone had carefully cleaned the mud from the doll, brushed out her hair and dressed her in new clothes. He smiled to see Elladan next hold up additional clothing for the doll, so Arwen could properly put her to bed and dress her up. The next bundle Elladan opened was filled with clothing for Arwen, which she again hugged to her body. Finally, the last package, wrapped to protect against moisture, included her books, a game, drawing pencils and paper and her favorite cup. Elrond would cherish the look on Arwen's face forever. She was delighted and crying at the same time.

Elladan pulled a small scrap of parchment from the bottom of the bundle and read it, his expression softening. He handed it to Glorfindel, who only smiled and then gave it to Elrond. As Elrond scanned the note, he at first only noted the fine writing of his advisor. He began to laugh then, and nearly cry himself, as he pictured Erestor in the midst of the crisis of getting Elrond across the river and preventing Celebrían from following. Somehow, in spite of all that, he had created this detailed list of all the things Arwen would want or need, and then sent it to Imladris.

“It even says, ‘clean doll first and have Amariel make it new clothes immediately',” laughed Elrond. “He even noted which books were her favorites.”

Glorfindel returned to the river to receive the next basket load, and then came up the path carrying what appeared to be heavy sacks. “Calendil says there are more of these coming, whatever they are,” he said as he set the sacks down.

Elrond felt like a child on his begetting day. He checked Elrohir to ensure he was still sleeping, and then joined the others in digging through the items.

Elladan had opened one sack. “Feathers?” he said dubiously.

But Glorfindel laughed and held up a sheet of parchment. “Instructions for stuffing a feather mattress!” He snorted then. “Do they think we do not know how?”

“Have you ever made one?” asked Elladan with a smile.

“No,” admitted Glorfindel, “but I think I am about to learn.”

Arwen watched happily as Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrond wrestled the feathers, mattress cover and ticking into a suitable bed. Elladan flopped down on it and sighed. “Perfect!” he declared. “It feels like home.” He jumped up and picked up the mattress, laying it down next to Elrohir. As he gazed upon his twin, his eyes filled with tears. He pulled back the light blanket covering his brother. Fading bruises still covered his torso and back; linen wrappings still bound healing ribs. Scratches and wounds were healing over, but still evident on his arms and hands. The splint now encased his leg from toes to thigh.

“Oh, Elrohir, I hate to see you in pain,” he murmured.

Glorfindel covered the mattress with a sheet, and laid Elrohir's pillow from home on top. The three of them carefully lifted the injured elf and laid him gently on the mattress. Elrond put additional pillows beneath the damaged leg, and then covered him with a soft sheet and light blanket.

Additional supplies and personal items had arrived for each of them, each carefully chosen. Bedding and clothing, food and cooking items, and a few favorite personal effects were included for each of them.

“Erestor is amazing,” said Elladan finally. “How did he know what we would need or want or simply like to have? He sent my favorite clothing for wearing on patrol, the book I was planning to read next, and my harp and whittling knife.”

“There is little that escapes Erestor's notice,” said Elrond fondly.

A slight sound from Elrohir caught his attention, and Elrond moved quickly to his side. Elrohir was restless, and Elrond caught Elrohir's hand in his own, and felt Elrohir calm instantly. Eyes focused reluctantly, and Elrond could see the pain in their depths. A few moments passed before memory came to Elrohir, and his eyes reflected his grief.

“Adar, I am sorry. I just wanted a drink of water and I did not want to wake you,” Elrohir admitted dully.

Elrond smiled and stroked his son's hair. “It pains me to see you struggle so, Elrohir. I know you want to do for yourself and it must frustrate you terribly that you cannot. Will you promise, Elrohir, that you will let us take care of you?”

Tears spilled from Elrohir's eyes and he brushed them away angrily. Elrond caught his hand, and held it gently. “Let go of the anger, Elrohir. Why are you angry with yourself? Do you think you are weak? Do you think we think you are weak? Because you are not. You are injured, drugged and in pain. You may cry if you want and we will not think less of you.”

“I am a warrior, Adar, I should be able to withstand pain and discomfort,” replied Elrohir.

“You have withstood pain and discomfort. Now you need to withstand letting go of your pride and allowing us to care for you. Sometimes that is the more difficult thing to do. I want your promise, Elrohir. I cannot stand to see you suffer like this.”

“I promise,” answered Elrohir contritely. He paused, and then said, “Adar, I am still thirsty.”

Elrond laughed and first gave his son a small vial of steeped herbs to drink. “For the pain and to help prevent infection,” he explained. “There are some surprises in camp – you are lying on one of them. When you awake, there will be another. Now sleep, and I will be here by your side.”

Elrohir smiled as he snuggled into the downy bed, and soon drifted off into sleep.

* * *

“It should be two braids, and then make them into one braid here,” said Arwen, pointing at the back of her doll's head.

Glorfindel deftly twisted and wove the strands, combining the two to make one large braid, as directed. He tied it off with a pink ribbon. Arwen smiled in satisfaction and hugged the doll to her chest. Glorfindel had even dressed the doll in her nightgown, managing all the tiny buttons without skipping any of them.

“Would you like your hair to match?” asked Glorfindel.

“Yes, please!” cried Arwen in delight.

“First you need your matching nightgown, then,” said Glorfindel thoughtfully. He dug through her satchel of clothing, pulling out the gown he had seen that was a perfect match to her doll's. He pulled the tunic up over her head and helped her change into fresh underthings, then pulled the nightgown on and fastened its row of tiny buttons up the back.

Next he turned his attention to brushing and plaiting her hair, the blue-black strands shining in the fading sunlight. He created the same design with Arwen's braids as he had with the doll's, and then held up a small mirror so she could see the effect.

“We look like twins now, just like Elladan and Elrohir,” she informed him. She turned and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Glorfindel.”

“You are welcome, Arwen,” replied Glorfindel, as Arwen leaned back against him and began singing to her doll.

Glorfindel's eyes met Elrond's as they heard an Imladris call and both smiled, knowing that Celeborn and Galadriel were now very close. Elrond, who had sat at Elrohir's side all afternoon, answered and then left his injured son to his twin's care and walked up the hill.

Several minutes later, Elrond returned. Glorfindel could not help but smile as Galadriel and Celeborn followed him into camp. He waited for Arwen to notice them, but then realized her eyes were half closed and the singing was barely a hum.

“Arwen, open your eyes,” he whispered.

Arwen opened her eyes, blinked, and then sat up straight. Her eyes widened in surprise and recognition, and then she held out her arms and cried, “Daernaneth! Daerada!” as she attempted to rise. Glorfindel stood and walked swiftly forward, depositing Arwen in Galadriel's arms.

* * *

Arwen's cry had roused Elrohir from his drugged sleep, but only enough to ask Elladan what was wrong.

“We have visitors,” said Elladan.

“Oh,” yawned Elrohir tiredly.

“Is this how your greet your daeradar?”

Elrohir's eyes flew open to see Celeborn standing above him. His grandfather knelt down and kissed him on both cheeks.

“What is this I hear about my grandson being brave and courageous and jumping off a crumbling bridge to save his sister?” asked Celeborn. He patted the bedding his speechless grandson was lying on. “At least they have made you a bed fit for a prince. You deserve no less.”

“Daeradar!” Elrohir finally sputtered. “How did you find us? Why are you here?”

Celeborn smiled. “Your daernaneth knew you were in danger and needed us. So we came.”

Elladan helped Elrohir sit up so Celeborn could sit behind him. Elrohir leaned back against his grandfather's comforting presence. Elrohir could now see most of the camp, and was amazed to find it full of elves. His grandmother was carrying Arwen, rubbing her back and rocking her, even as she moved gracefully about the camp. Elrohir nearly laughed aloud to hear his grandmother giving orders, directing guards and others who had accompanied them to set up tents and reorganize the layout.

Suddenly Galadriel stood before him, and Elrohir felt her piercing thought directed at him. He cowered slightly, but was held lovingly in his grandfather's arms, and he allowed his grandmother to see into his heart. She suddenly smiled at him, and it was as if the sun shone through storm clouds. Arwen still in her arms, she sat down gracefully beside him. She ghosted her hand up the length of his damaged leg, and then laid her hand on his chest as she studied him intently.

“I hold you to the same promise you made your father,” she finally said. An unspoken communication seemed to pass between Galadriel and Celeborn, and Elrohir felt his grandfather's hold on him tighten slightly. “You were very brave, Elrohir, and we are proud of you. Now you must do all you can to heal, as we wish for you to be whole and healthy again.”

Night descended on the camp as soft music was made and sweet wine was enjoyed. Arwen fell asleep in her grandmother's arms, and there she spent the night, with Galadriel holding all unpleasant dreams at bay. Elrohir saw Galadriel order Glorfindel, his father and twin to bed, and they obeyed after wishing him a good night. Elrohir drifted into dreams while listening to the soft tenor of his grandfather singing by his side.

* * * * *

Chapter 12: Reunions

Elrond's eyes focused in bewilderment on the canvas above his head as one hand swung in the air off the side of his bed, grasping for the ground and finding nothing. He shook his head, hoping to shake the cobwebs free. He distinctly remembered going to sleep on the ground beneath the stars.

“Confused?”

Elrond sat up, glancing around the semi-enclosed tent, and despite his confusion could not help but admire the design which could allow in light and air when desired. His eyes finally settled on Glorfindel who sat on a cot next to his own.

“Yes. You?” he finally answered.

“Definitely. Do you think if we closed our eyes and slept a while longer, we might wake up in Imladris?”

Elrond cast a cautious glance around the tent before answering. “I doubt nothing with Galadriel,” he admitted. “I did not hear Elrohir or Arwen during the night.”

“Nor did I,” confirmed Glorfindel. “I am sure Celeborn and Galadriel kept them comfortable through the long watch.”

“For that I am grateful, but I think I must confirm it with my own eyes,” answered Elrond as he rose. He dressed quickly, then stepped around the still sleeping Elladan and left the tent.

The sun shone brightly in the crisp morning air, and the smell of breakfast drifted towards him. Elves were gathered near the cooking fire, speaking quietly and laughing as they ate. Elrond could scarcely believe the change in the camp that had happened during the night. Suddenly it appeared as if a small village had grown up around them.

“Ada!”

Elrond turned to see Arwen sitting in her grandmother's lap, her hair being brushed and braided. Galadriel set her on her feet with an indulgent smile and laughed as Arwen rushed to her father.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he greeted her as she flung herself into his arms. “You look as if you slept well.”

“I did, Ada, I did!” she said happily. “I am glad Daernaneth and Daeradar are here.”

“I am glad too,” he agreed. “How is Elrohir this morning?”

Arwen's face grew serious. “Daeradar said he is a little better. I am sorry he broke his leg again, Adar. I want to tell him so, but Daernaneth said he is finally sleeping well so I should not disturb him.”

“I know he will be glad to talk to you when he wakes.” Elrond hugged his daughter and watched as she returned to Galadriel's arms. She was walking less stiffly and the good night's rest had clearly done wonders for her mood.

Elrond made his way to where Elrohir was sleeping, apart from everyone else. A tent had also been erected above him, and beneath his mattress was a low platform. Elrond was pleased that the elves who had set up the camp had adjusted their plans to account for the bed which had clearly made Elrohir more comfortable.

“He had periods of restlessness when he was clearly in pain. It was difficult to chase the pain away for long, and I finally dosed him with the herbs you had set aside for him,” reported Celeborn without preamble. Long fingers stroked the dark hair. “This is the most comfortable he has been.”

Elrond knelt next to his son's bed, studying the face before him. He slid his hands beneath the warmth of the blankets, and checked the toes and the little bit of exposed skin that were not encased in the bandages and splints. The toes were pink and warm, and Elrond sighed in relief.

“I had feared the new damage was more serious. I will unwrap the leg later and examine it more closely, but what I see looks good.” He turned to meet his father-in-law's eyes. “Thank you.”

Celeborn looked at him with eyes that showered warmth and love. “You appeared pushed beyond endurance when we arrived last night. I know you could have continued, had you needed to, but I am glad we could help relieve your burden.”

“I knew the moment they were conceived that they would hold my heart in their hands, and never has that proven more true. My children have all struggled and suffered through this, and it has pained me to watch them – and to let them make their own decisions.”

“Yes,” Celeborn agreed, his eyes twinkling. “Our children can vex us, frustrate us and worry us with their decisions.”

Elrond studied his father-in-law for a moment, trying to determine if he had just been insulted. After all, Celebrían had made the decision to marry him. He decided to ignore the implication. “Your child may wish to physically hurt me next time she sees me,” he admitted ruefully.

Celeborn's eyes narrowed slightly. “Just where is my daughter? Elrohir was not coherent enough to tell me.”

“I expect she is about a two day ride behind you,” answered Elrond. “We left Imladris together when we sensed that some harm had befallen the twins. We located them here and found Arwen with them, and I crossed the river while Erestor led the rest of the party down to the bridge at Tharbad.”

Celeborn's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “You crossed the river to be with your children, but Celebrían did not? By what force did you hold her back?”

Elrond felt heat rising in his cheeks. “I would not risk Celebrían over the flood waters.”

Celeborn glanced down to the water's edge and then back at Elrond. “You are far less graceful than Celebrían and you made it across.”

“Elrohir's leg was badly broken and he needed the aid I could provide. The situation warranted me risking my own life, but I would not allow her to risk her own,” replied Elrond, an edge to his voice.

Celeborn appraised him silently for a moment, and then answered, “You are correct in one thing for certain, Elrond. Celebrían will be very angry with you when she arrives.”

Elrond forced his face impassive and leaned forward to touch Elrohir's face. Content his son would remain sleeping for at least a short while longer, he rose and nodded to Celeborn. “Thank you for keeping watch over him,” he said, allowing his gratitude to come through in his words. Then he turned and walked away.

The smell of breakfast no longer seemed appetizing, so he walked in the opposite direction to where the spring bubbled merrily. Kneeling beside it, he splashed the cold water on to his face and drank from his cupped hands. Then, seeking solitude, he walked up to the ridge where Glorfindel and Elladan had gone the day before.

* * *

Glorfindel watched Elrond walk away in silence. He had overheard the conversation the half-elf had had with Celeborn, and it was clear to him that Elrond needed time alone. At times like this, Glorfindel was reminded of why he had never aspired to hold power. Such positions relegated one to being alone and to having every action judged. Consensus was often difficult and complete agreement was entirely impossible.

“He is on edge,” stated Celeborn as Glorfindel walked past him.

“Aye, he is,” agreed Glorfindel.

Glorfindel refreshed himself at the spring and filled his water skin before returning to where Elrohir lay. He knelt beside the young elf and stroked the dark hair. Elrohir's eyes were closed again, and Glorfindel sighed softly as he thought of how well he had been doing.

“What happened to him?” asked Celeborn.

Glorfindel paused for a moment as the vision of Elrohir fighting the river for his life and for that of his sister flashed in his mind. He was about to speak when Elrohir's eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning, Elrohir,” he greeted their patient instead.

Dull eyes met his, and Glorfindel felt his heart sink.

“Hello, Glorfindel,” answered Elrohir as he lowered his eyes.

“How do you feel this morning, elfling?” Glorfindel gently tipped the chin up so that Elrohir again met his gaze.

“As if I behaved like an elfling yesterday,” replied Elrohir hoarsely, and the depth of pain in those grey eyes nearly broke Glorfindel's heart. “I need to apologize to Elladan, and especially to Adar.”

Glorfindel could feel the remorse radiating from the injured elf, and he cupped Elrohir's cheek for a moment, hoping his touch conveyed some comfort. Absolution seemed the best remedy, however. “I will go find them for you.”

As he rose, he saw that Celeborn wordlessly took Elrohir's hand in his own. An offer of water was met with a shake of the head, confirming to Glorfindel that Elrohir needed forgiveness before anything else.

He returned to the tent where Elladan still slept and shook the elf gently. “Elladan, Elrohir wants to speak with you.”

Elladan leapt to his feet, his eyes focusing immediately. “He is worse?”

“He does not appear to feel well, but what he needs most is to tell you he is sorry,” replied Glorfindel, speaking to Elladan's back as the elf rushed to his twin's side.

Glorfindel followed at a distance, watching as Celeborn moved back slightly to allow the twins a moment alone together. Elladan sat carefully on the edge of his twin's bed and held both of his brother's hands as Elrohir said what he needed to say. Elladan's answer was short, but the response seemed clear when he gathered his brother in his arms, as gently as one would a newborn lamb, and held him close.

Satisfied, Glorfindel went in search of Elrond.

* * *

Elrond had made himself comfortable in the crook of a tree at the edge of the clearing. The branches were high enough to afford him an unobstructed view of the rivers, and as Glorfindel had promised the day before, the scene was spectacular. The water still rushed, unimpeded by any obstacle in its way, forcing its way to the sea. Elrond could easily picture the remains of the wagon, with his daughter inside, being tossed and flung upon the shore or breaking apart and being swept into the turbulent waters of the bay. He could imagine the unidentifiable remains of his son, tangled in the river debris, decomposing in an eddy, or never found at all, as often happened. Without thinking, he felt for his bond with Celebrían. He could feel her weariness as she rushed towards them with all haste; he could also feel the seething anger that hovered just below the surface of her thought. Looking again at the river, he wanted to cry out to her that he could not bear to picture her lost in its raging depths. He could not bear to picture her harmed in any way. Did she not know that she and their children were the focus of his life? That to lose her would crush his soul?

Elrond heard a soft keening cry and realized the sound came from him. Ruthlessly silencing it, he clenched his fists and let his muscles feel his anguish instead.

“Elrond?”

At the sound of Glorfindel's voice, Elrond let go of his feelings and jumped down lightly from the tree. “Elrohir?” he asked.

“He has asked for you,” answered Glorfindel. A sad smile crossed his face as he turned to walk with Elrond back to camp. “He is in need of your forgiveness.”

Elrond stopped in his tracks as he considered those words, then smiled as well. His softhearted, eager-to-please child had always hated having others angry or upset with him. Well, with the exception of Erestor, and it had taken Elladan some time to convince Elrohir that Erestor being unhappy with them was all a façade and that the advisor greatly enjoyed their encounters. Convincing Elrohir to play his role in the game had not been easy, but in time he had grown to accept it. Never as much as Elladan did, though, Elrond reminded himself. “Twins they may be, but they are so different,” he muttered under his breath.

Glorfindel dropped back as they entered the campsite, and Elrond moved to the small tent where his sons waited for him. He stopped and watched them for a moment, a smile creeping across his face as he realized that although Elladan still held his twin, both were now laughing. Big grey eyes, full of repentance, looked up to meet his. Elrond sank down on the other side of the bed.

“Adar, please forgive me,” began Elrohir. “I was stubborn and prideful yesterday. I hurt everyone and made you have to work to take care of me again.”

Elrond let Elrohir finish, but for his sake. He slid carefully next to Elrohir and wrapped his arms around his son. “Forgiven,” he whispered without hesitation or condition, and felt all the tension leave Elrohir.

Elladan had left them briefly, and when he returned he had Arwen in hand. “If there is to be hugging and kissing, Arwen wants her share,” he announced as Arwen joined them on the bed, giving hugs and kisses to Elrohir and her father.

“I am glad we are all here, because we have to make some arrangement about Glorfindel,” said Elrond seriously.

“Whatever do you mean, Adar?” asked Elladan curiously. At a nod from Elrond, Elladan looked at Arwen and seemed to understand. “You think Elrohir and I have been spending too much time with Glorfindel.”

“What do you think, Arwen?” asked Elrond. Arwen looked at her father uncomprehendingly. “Do you think your brothers spend too much time with Glorfindel?”

“Sometimes they do,” answered Arwen quietly.

“Does that make you jealous?” asked Elrond gently. Arwen nodded, her eyes now lowered. “What kind of solution would you suggest?”

Arwen shifted uncomfortably, and then suddenly her eyes opened wide and she looked at Elladan. “I was not nice to you and Glorfindel yesterday,” she said as memory flooded her.

“Arwen, Elrohir and I want to be warriors and defend and protect Imladris, and that means we have to be away some of the time on patrol,” explained Elladan.

“Glorfindel is one of the best warriors I have,” continued Elrond. “He has protected me in war and there is no one I would trust more to teach your brothers and protect them as they learn.”

“Glorfindel teaches and protects them?” asked Arwen, tears now filling her eyes.

“Yes, but he is also their friend. Just like he is your friend,” added Elrond. He smoothed her hair back and lifted a braid. “Did you like how he made you and your doll look alike yesterday?” Arwen nodded. “Glorfindel is a part of our family and he loves you just like he loves your brothers. It hurts him when you ignore him or push him away.”

“I once heard that jealousy is a like a little monster inside,” said Elladan.

“Whenever you feel that way about Glorfindel, maybe you can see if it is the little monster inside who is making you feel that way. If it is, you can tell the monster to go away and leave you alone. If it won't go, you can come and tell one of us, and we will help you to be rid of it,” suggested Elrond.

“I don't like having a little monster inside of me,” said Arwen softly.

“No, none of us does. That is why if you tell him to go away every time he rears his ugly little head, he will eventually go and not return. Do you think you can do that, if we help you?” said Elladan.

“Yes,” answered Arwen resolutely.

“Recognizing the monster is important, because once you know he is present you can act immediately to make sure he doesn't cause you to speak angry words. But there is one other thing you can do to silence the monster,” offered Elrond.

“What is that?” asked Arwen, ready to do whatever it took to make the monster go away.

“Go to Glorfindel and tell him you are sorry. The monster doesn't like all of us knowing he is there, and he will be scared of a warrior like Glorfindel, especially since Glorfindel loves you,” explained Elrond.

Arwen climbed off the bed, careful not to jostle Elrohir. “I will go right now.” She looked around, finally sighting Glorfindel standing with a group of warriors who had come with her grandparents. She walked toward them bravely, but slowed as she neared them, hesitant to interrupt.

Elrond watched as a smile crossed Glorfindel's face as he saw his little princess and broke away from the warriors to join her. He bent down and listened for a moment, then offered his hand to the child and the two of them walked off together to sit at the big rock by the spring.

“Well, Adar, you have dealt with Elrohir's pride and Arwen's jealousy. What do you have for me?” asked Elladan, gently grabbing his twin's hand as Elrohir made an attempt to cuff him.

Elrond smiled at his sons' antics. “We are all being tested in different ways on this trip, Elladan, and your test is more like mine, perhaps, than Elrohir's and Arwen's. They have been tested by pain and dependence. You have been tested as one from whom much has been expected, without reward or favor for what you have done. Your test is not over, I think.”

Elrohir grinned saucily, a slight spark back in his eyes. “Does this mean mine is?”

“No, my son,” answered Elrond, unable to stop a tear from forming in his eye, “although I hope the worst you have to experience is over.” He disentangled himself from his son and moved to the end of the bed. “I do want to see your leg, though. May I examine it now?”

Elrohir grimaced at the idea of anyone touching his sore limb, but nodded his agreement. Elrond folded the blanket up and out of his way, and then began carefully unwrapping the linen binding the splint in place. He felt Elrohir flinch, and when he looked up he saw that his son had his twin by the hand, squeezing hard. To his surprise, Elladan also had a look of surprised pain on his face. Drawing forth all his healing power, he allowed it to pour forth into his son. Elrohir gradually relaxed under his father's touch, his eyes half closing and unfocusing. Elrond unwrapped the bandages and felt his own weariness rise as he studied the swollen limb. Toes had not been an adequate representation.

“Adar,” began Elladan as he looked at the limb. He bit his words off.

Elrond looked up as he heard others approaching. Celeborn knelt gracefully at Elrohir's head, and placed both hands upon it, while Galadriel positioned herself next to Elrond. Their power strengthened Elrond's and comforted Elrohir, and together they tended the sorely wounded elf.

* * *

Elrohir awoke in the late afternoon. He felt relaxed but just moving slightly reminded him of his injuries. He felt a presence at his side and turned his head to see his grandfather again at his side. Smiling, he realized that at different times his father or Elladan had been there, as well as Glorfindel, and once, his grandmother. Helpless he might be, but he was well tended.

“Our cook has made you some broth,” said Celeborn as he wiped a cool cloth over Elrohir's face and neck. “I will ask to have some brought to you, and then I wish to hear the tale of what has happened.”

“I would be food for fish living far out at sea were it not for aid from those on shore and some good fortune,” admitted Elrohir with a slight smile. “Honestly, Daeradar, it was horrible, with debris and rocks and currents tossing me every which way, and crushing me with their force. I knew I had to reach Arwen, and I had to hope she was in the wagon. When I finally reached the wagon, I fought to steer it towards the shore where I could see Elladan, Glorfindel and Garthon. The current did more to aid me than my own effort. They caught the wagon, pulled me from the water and of the next days I remember little, until Adar came.”

Celeborn studied him thoughtfully for a few moments, then resumed tending him. An elf appeared bearing a cup of broth and some soft bread, and Celeborn helped him rise to a reclining position so he could feed himself.

“Elrohir's awake!” cried Arwen from across the camp.

He couldn't help but smile to see her, dressed again in her own clothing, clean, and her favorite doll in hand. She joined him, their grandmother bringing her dinner and setting it before her.

“The elfling has awakened from his nap!” proclaimed Glorfindel has he sat down near Arwen. Elladan joined them on Arwen's other side.

“Where is Adar?” asked Elrohir. He was startled by the strange looks he received.

“He was resting,” said Glorfindel quietly. “He will join us soon, I am sure.”

Elrohir studied the faces around him. Only Arwen appeared innocent of any concern about Elrond. Setting down the still half full cup of broth, he found his appetite had fled. His memory of the time prior to his father's arrival in the camp was sketchy, but he sensed that something had happened during that time and that he was somehow the cause of some disharmony.

Elladan moved to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. “Are you not hungry, Elrohir?” he asked, concern on his face.

“I have had enough,” answered Elrohir, forcing a small smile for his twin.

Everyone was nearly finished eating when Elrond joined them. He declined to have any of the dinner offered him by Glorfindel, and Elrohir knew by the pursed lips that Glorfindel was unhappy about that. As Elrohir studied his father, he became aware of the weariness in his eyes, and the dark circles beneath them. Guilt flowed through him, even as he was reminded that his father had forgiven him earlier that day. Still, Elrohir recalled little after his father examined his leg, and he knew that his father had expended much energy caring for him.

“Good evening, Adar,” Elladan greeted him warmly

Elrond returned the greeting with a smile that did not reach his eyes. He moved to sit near Elrohir as well. “You have eaten little today.”

“I am not hungry, Adar,” replied Elrohir truthfully. He lowered his voice, although he knew the others could hear him. “I am sorry again, Adar. I did not mean to cause you more grief this morning.”

Elrond looked at him in surprise. “You have not caused me grief, Elrohir. What makes you think that?”

“You look exhausted, Adar,” replied Elrohir softly.

“I am tired, but that is not your fault, Elrohir. Do not worry about me,” he instructed, his voice suddenly reassuring and warm.

As nightfall descended, soft music filled the camp, but it brought Elrohir little peace. He was grateful when his father dosed him with herbs to lessen his pain and help him sleep, then left Elladan at his side. A warm drowsiness was filling him when he reached for Elladan's hand. “Why do you brood, brother?” he asked sleepily.

“No reason, Elrohir. Naneth should be here tomorrow,” he said encouragingly

Elrohir drifted into sleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

Elladan sat at Elrohir's side as night descended. His father had wandered off into the darkness under the watchful eye of the guards, and Glorfindel sat by the fire. Arwen was sleeping in Galadriel's arms, but he could hear his grandparents speaking softly.

“The matter is between Elrond and Celebrían,” said Galadriel firmly. “Taking a side is not going to help either of them.”

“So you refuse to support your daughter in this?” asked Celeborn, incredulity in his voice.

“I intend to let the two of them work this out,” answered Galadriel.

Elladan could not make out what Celeborn said next, but he heard his grandmother's hiss clearly. “You forget that as husband and father you have made such decisions before because you felt it best. Now you criticize Elrond because you see another viewpoint?”

“I did not criticize him,” answered Celeborn, “though he took it as such. I do, however, see justification for Celebrían's anger.”

“I see it also!” answered Galadriel. “But this is not about us and our daughter, but about our daughter and her husband. Just as I saw your viewpoint centuries ago, I see Elrond's now. You would do well to remember that.”

Celeborn snorted. “You did what you wanted then, as always.”

To Elladan's surprise, Galadriel's tone softened. “To go was my decision, but your arguments did win me over, regardless of the fact that I did not like them then or now.”

“You are impossible, wife,” Celeborn's softened tone followed a kiss to his wife's hand.

“A good match for an impossible husband,” agreed Galadriel.

Silence followed as the two relaxed against each other, holding their granddaughter close, and Elladan found himself embarrassed and intrigued by what he had overhead. He should not have listened, yet could hardly help overhearing, but more urgently, he wanted to know of what they spoke.

He heard a slight moan from his twin as Elrohir attempted to shift his weight and could not, and Elladan tried to imagine what it would be like to lie in one position day after day. He shifted the pillows slightly under Elrohir's leg, and helped him roll gently to his least injured side. Elrohir did not wake, but he seemed more content, and Elladan carefully lay down next to him so they were just barely touching. As Elrohir leaned into him, he knew his touch and presence were welcome, and he allowed himself to follow the path of waking dreams, resting yet not sleeping, in case Elrohir needed him.

* * *

The guards on watch first noted the approach of the party from Imladris at mid-morning. Elladan reported the news to Arwen, who nearly squealed with delight, and to his father, whose pale face seemed resigned, despite the smile he put on for his son's sake. Elladan had pondered the words spoken by his grandparents the previous night, and determined that his father not permitting his mother to follow him across the river had led to a rift between them. It was a rift Glorfindel, Celeborn and Galadriel seemed well aware of, and for some reason Elladan thought Elrohir was conscious of it as well. His brother had not eaten again that morning, despite coaxing by Galadriel, and neither had their father. Elrond claimed he just wasn't hungry, whereas Elrohir had looked nauseated.

The camp cooks had just finished making dinner when the party arrived. Elladan saw his mother run down the hill, dressed in trousers and tunic.

“Arwen!” she cried as Arwen ran to her. “Oh, Arwen, I missed you!”

Arwen was hugging Celebrían joyfully, her arms wrapped around her mother's neck and her face buried in familiar silver hair. Celebrían greeted her parents, but her eyes were seeking her sons. Elladan felt his heart sink as his mother walked past his father without a word, and came instead to where he sat with Elrohir.

“Hello, Naneth,” he greeted her, rising to put his arms around her and Arwen and hold them both close. She kissed his cheeks and forehead, her eyes and hands both checking him over for any signs of harm. “I am well, Naneth, really,” he laughed.

“Oh, Elladan, you scared me nearly to my grave,” she admitted, tears in her eyes. Then she turned to Elrohir, and Elladan caught his mother's arm and took Arwen from her as she staggered at the sight of him.

“Elrohir,” she said softly, dropping down to sit near him. Tears streamed down her face as she smoothed his hair and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Oh, Elrohir, what happened to you?” She kissed the hand that was still missing several fingernails, sheered off when splinters had jammed beneath them in his attempt to grab the wagon, and then pulled back the blanket covering him.

Elladan thought of the shock that his father and grandparents had hidden fairly well when they had first seen him, but his mother made little attempt to hide her reaction.

“I am healing well, Naneth,” said Elrohir encouragingly, but Elladan knew that his mother could see the darkened circles beneath his twin's eyes and the dull pain within them.

“I am sorry I was not here,” choked Celebrían as she carefully touched his bruises and wounds.

“I missed you, Naneth,” admitted Elrohir.

Celebrían bristled at that, and raised her eyes to search the camp, finally settling on Elrond. Elladan was shocked at the fury in her eyes. Never before had he seen his parents do more than politely disagree about something trivial. Where Celebrían's eyes blazed in fury, Elrond's were steadfastly resolute.

“I must speak to your father, then I will return,” she said reassuringly to Elrohir as she rose.

Elladan watched, almost as if he watched a play on the stage, as his mother walked to his father. She stopped in front of him, but when Elrond raised his hand to touch her, she knocked it away. Suddenly everyone in the camp seemed to make themselves scarce, and Elladan could feel the confusion in both Arwen and Elrohir.

“For days I have traveled, desperate to be with my children. They needed me, Elrond! How dare you tell the guards and Erestor not to let me follow! How dare you decide for me what is best where it concerns my role as their mother?”

Although Celebrían's words were low, all three of her children heard them clearly and recoiled at the tension and hurt in her voice.

“Celebrían, please let us have this conversation later, away from here and when you are calmer,” said Elrond in a low voice.

“Do not patronize me, Elrond,” hissed Celebrían angrily. “I am not one of your advisors or warriors to be ordered about at your whim. I will speak to you when I wish.”

Elrond's eyes narrowed dangerously, and a flash of anger glinted in them. “I will not argue with you over the decision I made, for I would make it again in a heartbeat should a similar situation ever arise. I crossed that river to save our son's life, for my life was worth risking for his. You could not help him as I could, and one of us needed to remain whole and well for our other children. You may be angry with me over that choice, but frankly I do not care. One of us needed to keep the broader perspective, and you were not able to do so.”

An inarticulate cry escaped Celebrían, and she stepped toward Elrond in fury, one hand raised. What she intended to do Elladan never learned, for Elrond caught her hand firmly in his own and forced it down to her side. Celebrían's eyes opened wide at his touch, and then he released her, turning abruptly on his heel and walking away.

Celebrían stood frozen in place for a moment, then turned to them. Her face crumbled in despair at the sight of her children, for she had apparently forgotten they were witnesses to the fight.

Elladan knew his own face likely reflected his shock, and Arwen was expressing hers. Sobbing silently, she clung to him. On the bed next to them, Elrohir's eyes were closed and his breathing ragged as he also cried silently. Elladan cuddled Arwen close and gently stroked his brother's hair, then looked up at his father's retreating back. Unable to meet his mother's gaze, he bowed his head.

* * * * *

Chapter 13: Reconciliation

* * * * *

Celebrían sank to her knees, her head bowed, as grief and guilt threatened to overwhelm her. The shocked looks on her children's faces were the second blow; the first had been the punch of emotion that had nearly knocked her over when Elrond had grabbed her hand.

Never before had she experienced his anger; never before had he been angry with her. In that moment when their skin touched, she felt as if a fire had swept through and consumed her. She felt his exhaustion, and she saw Arwen's fear, Elrohir's pain and Elladan's frustration through her husband's eyes. Worse, she felt the effect her anger had had on him – his despair when he had reached out to her over the last few days and met only resistance when he desperately needed her support.

She drew in a deep breath and then lifted her head, consciously letting go of her anger. The camp was silent except for the sobbing of her children. Her parents had made no move to go to them, nor had Glorfindel, whom she could see standing with Erestor off to the side. Suddenly she was glad – she had wanted to be the one to comfort them and thus far had only hurt them worse. How much she had hurt them became obvious when she began to walk toward them.

Elladan stood, his arms protectively around Arwen and his body between hers and Elrohir's. She would have found his stance endearing had it not been her that he was guarding them against. Her eldest was loyal and steadfast and fiercely protective of his siblings, for which she had always been thankful. Now, though, his eyes reflected his confusion and turmoil.

She held out her hands in supplication. “Elladan,” she began softly, all traces of anger gone, “I am sorry. In my anger, I have hurt all of you.” He relaxed slightly at her words and did not pull away when she began to stroke Arwen's back. She carefully took Arwen from his arms and stepped aside to speak to her daughter, who clung to her silently.

“Arwen, I am sorry that I fought with your adar. I am sorry you saw me behaving so badly. I need to speak with Elrohir, and then I need to find your Adar and tell him I love him and ask him to forgive me. Will you sit with your daernaneth while I do those things?”

Arwen looked up at her finally, her eyes wide and still full of tears, but she nodded her agreement. Celebrían carried her to her mother, who took the child without comment and cuddled her in her arms.

Elladan still stood where she had left him, and she could see that he wished to speak. Bracing herself emotionally, she took his hand and said, “Say what you are thinking, Elladan.”

Elladan dropped his gaze and took in a deep breath. “I love you, Naneth, but I would have cut the rope if you had taken one step to follow Adar.” Celebrían remained silent, but massaged the back of his hand, encouraging him to continue. “I had just seen Elrohir nearly die, and Arwen hurt, and then Adar fell when the wind blew him, and . . .” Elladan's voice broke. Celebrían tightened her hold on him, her hand reaching up to stroke his hair.

“I was selfish,” she said as she pulled him close. “I wanted to be with you so badly, I did not stop to think how it would hurt you if I put myself in danger. I feared for Elrohir and I wanted to comfort him, and I did not think beyond that. I am sorry, Elladan.”

Elladan's ragged breaths as he struggled for control caused Celebrían to feel more remorse than she thought possible. “I am thankful for you, Elladan,” she said as he calmed himself. “You have been a source of strength for your brother and sister and for your Adar as well. I am glad you were here.”

She drew back from him and kissed him on both cheeks. Tears ran freely down his face, but his eyes showed relief. “I am worried about Elrohir, Naneth,” he admitted. “He will not eat and he looks even worse today than yesterday.”

Celebrían squeezed Elladan's hand one last time, and then turned to look down upon her other son. She had seen the pain in his eyes and the dark shadows beneath them. Now those eyes were shut and he lay silent and tense. She knelt beside him and gently lifted his hand, and a sudden fear filled her as she felt his ebbing fëa.

“Elrohir?” she asked, and she could hear the fear in her own voice. He did not acknowledge her. Panic welled up within her and she looked in the direction Elrond had gone. She felt for her bond with her husband and was met by a cold stone wall. Please come back, Elrond! Elrohir needs help. Please, Elrond . . .. She stroked Elrohir's arm, murmuring words of love to him, but he had withdrawn into himself and her touch seemed to have no effect upon him. Tears coursed down her cheeks as fear assailed her.

She heard movement around her, and looked up to see Elrond standing over her. She reached for his hand, tugging him down to her side, and laid his hand upon Elrohir's. Celebrían could see Elrond's exhaustion, yet he poured himself into Elrohir. Covering his hands with her own, she directed all of her love to them both.

“He thinks he is the cause of our fight,” said Elrond finally, grief in his voice He bent down close to his son. “Elrohir, you are not to blame for the rift between your mother and me. We alone share that blame; none of it is yours. Please, my son, you bear enough of a burden without this. Release it to us.”

Celebrían heard the emphasis on the word ‘us,' and the impact sunk to the core of her being. She was not a single being; her fëa did not exist alone, but was bound to Elrond's. They were one, and by pulling apart they had hurt themselves and their children, who were bound to them together. Elrohir's grief in believing he was the cause of their sundering was causing him to fade. The realization dawned on her that to reach him, they would need to first reconcile with each other.

Celebrían lifted one hand to Elrond's face, cupping his cheek gently and turning his face toward hers. “I love you, Elrond, more than life itself. Please forgive me.”

To her surprise, the dam of control that usually held her husband's emotions at bay broke. Tears streamed down his face. “I am sorry too, Celebrían. I only wanted you safe. I could not bear to lose you.”

As Celebrían heard Elrond's voice break and the depth of his anguish expressed, she felt the full force of his spirit, something she treasured for he so seldom allowed himself to be fully open, even with her. This time, it was she who wrapped her own spirit around his, engulfing and protecting it, until their fëar were again one.

Elrond placed her hands on Elrohir's bruised chest and covered them with his own. Celebrían was reminded of her days of pregnancy with the twins, when they would do this and feel such a strong communion with the fëa of each child. But now, instead of joy and contentment, she could feel Elrohir drifting and sense how alone he felt and how guilt consumed him. A fog of confusion surrounded him, and through Elrond's thoughts she knew that this was from the pain and the medications he had been given. His thinking was not clear, nor his emotions, and Celebrían knew somehow they had to draw him to them, for he was too lost to find them.

The sudden presence of a fourth surprised her, but it was Elladan's fëa that drew Elrohir back to them. Celebrían could see the beauty and strength of their fëar together, and she watched as Elladan took away some of Elrohir's pain and confusion, bearing it himself and relieving his twin of some of his burden. In that lightened state, Elrohir could now sense the fëar of his parents and draw near to them. Elrond's disbelief and wonder at this relationship between his sons flowed through to her, and Celebrían reached physically for Elladan's hand.

After Elrohir's feä again grew strong, Elrond pulled away and Celebrían could feel that he was utterly spent. She opened her eyes to meet his, and saw a depth of weariness that frightened her, and a depth of love that consumed her.

Elrohir seemed to rest comfortably, and Elrond motioned for Elladan to lie down next to him. “How long have you been able to do that?” he asked Elladan.

“Only recently, and it was not of my doing, Adar,” admitted Elladan. “I have felt his pain several times, and when I have borne it, it has diminished what he has had to bear alone.”

Elrond embraced Elladan, and then Celebrían and he watched as Elladan drew his brother into his arms and comforted him. “He will be well now that you two are,” said Elladan confidently.

Celebrían rose to her feet, and reached down to pull Elrond up. He staggered, and she slipped an arm around his waist, steadying him. She looked around the camp, unsurprised to see elves emerging from wherever they had hidden themselves when the family battle had started, and saw Glorfindel holding a tent flap open. She smiled her thanks at him, and led her husband there. Pushing him gently on to a bed made up on the ground, she undressed him and then lay down next to him, pulling him down to pillow his head against her breasts. Wrapping both arms about him, she held him as he fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Glorfindel let the tent flap close behind Elrond and Celebrían and then allowed a long breath to escape him. Glad that the family dispute appeared at least mostly resolved, he decided he was hungry, even if the smell of the stew was not tempting anyone else. He walked to the cooking fire and laughed as the Silvan cook materialized from the trees.

“Thank you,” he said warmly as the elf quickly prepared a bowl for him. The cook smiled in relief.

“I feared this whole pot would be wasted,” replied the elf mournfully. “Such disagreements are bad for the appetite.”

“Indeed,” replied Glorfindel as he looked at the twins. Elrohir had eaten only a little broth over several days, and as far as Glorfindel knew, Elrond had eaten nothing. He smiled down at the cook. “I think that come morning there will be a line of hungry elves at your fire.”

“May it be so,” wished the cook, clearly troubled by those who were not eating. It was not natural and reflected poorly upon his considerable skill.

“I will join you,” said Erestor. The cook smiled as if the sun had just broken through the storm clouds and prepared him a bowl.

Glorfindel looked Erestor up and down appraisingly as the elf sat down beside him.

“What?” asked Erestor, scowling.

“Just confirming for myself that you survived the journey unscathed,” replied Glorfindel.

“Unscathed?” replied Erestor incredulously. He lowered his voice. “I may be scarred forever. Do you have any idea what kind of temper she has been in?”

“Yes, I think I do,” answered Glorfindel sadly. “Elrond has neither eaten nor slept in days, except the night Galadriel put him to sleep. If not for that, I think he would be near collapse. As Elrond suffered, so did Elrohir.”

Erestor's eyes darted to where the twins were sleeping, and his expression softened. Glorfindel smiled. “The bed did much to make him comfortable. You are very thoughtful, Erestor. Each of us was delighted by what you thought to send, but even more so we were thankful you thought of Elrohir's comfort.”

“If it provided even a little ease, then I am glad,” said Erestor softly. “He looks terrible.”

“I think he would agree that that describes how he feels,” answered Glorfindel sadly. “Pain and confusion from the medications have clouded his mind, but I think he will be much improved tomorrow.”

“And our little princess?”

“Traumatized and plagued by nightmares, but the presence of her grandmother has eased that tremendously. It did not help for her to see her parents fight,” added Glorfindel.

They both studied the child, again asleep in her grandmother's arms. Her face was tearstained, but content in sleep.

“And you, my friend?” asked Erestor, his voice gentle.

Glorfindel smiled. “Glad you are all here. I would rather fight goblins and cave trolls than watch our children suffer.”

* * *

Elrond awoke still held securely in Celebrían's arms. A wave of relief and gratitude swept over him at her presence, and he turned slightly so that he could press a kiss to her cheek. Her eyes focused on him as she awoke, and a slow smile spread across her face. Kissing him in return, her fingers combed through his dark hair and then trailed down over his chest and abdomen.

“I missed you,” she said simply.

He pulled her on top of him and smoothed her loose hair back, tucking it behind her delicate ears. “I love you, Celebrían.”

She claimed his lips again, kissing him hungrily, and Elrond helped divest her of what clothing she had worn to bed. He felt for his bond with their children and found them all sleeping, then carefully pushed them to the side of his thought. Now was about him and Celebrían, about joining mentally and physically to repair what had been damaged. To his joy, Celebrían took the lead. Conscious of only canvas walls and the small camp, Celebrían made love to him tenderly and quietly, guiding their rhythm to slow release.

“I would like to bathe and then be with our children when they wake,” said Celebrían after they had both recovered their breath.

Elrond felt tears form unbidden, and Celebrían kissed them away.

“Elrohir tried to stand several days ago, without asking for aid, and he fell. His leg broke again, worse even than the first time. I made him promise he would let us care for him, but this dependence has been a terrible blow to his pride. Arwen has had nightmares and waking dreams, terror of falling and being swept away. Neither has slept well and they have both lashed out at Elladan. I have warred within, Celebrían, needing you here desperately, and knowing if you had been swept away before my eyes I would have died with you, and surely our children with us. I am selfish, wanting you here, but only on my terms. . ..”

Elrond was silenced by Celebrían's fingers at his lips. “I have loved you for many years, Elrond, and never have you been selfish. I would have risked my life to reach our children, but you are correct that I did not consider what harm to me would have done to them. I do not blame myself for being angry with you, but I do deeply regret that in my anger I pushed you away when you needed me, forcing you to bear these burdens alone. I will bear them now with you. I also hold you to a promise you made me many years ago.”

Elrond studied her intently, unable to recall a promise. “When the twins were injured, when they were Arwen's age, you poured yourself into them. I tried to replenish you, but you would not let me. You said in my mother bond I already expended much. But you promised me if ever you needed to take from me, you would do so. You need to take from me, Elrond, and you need to let me share a greater portion of this burden now. I have never seen you so weary - so spent - and it frightens me.”

“I need you, Celebrían,” admitted Elrond, “and Elrohir needs us both. You gave to him with me last night, and I am sure we will need to do so again today.”

Celebrían rose and then held out her hand to him. Elrond took it gladly and allowed her to wrap robes someone had thoughtfully placed in the tent around them both, then lead them from the tent. It was just before sunrise and the camp was quiet, but not all were sleeping. Several guards smiled at them from their posts, and Glorfindel flashed them a grin as he passed by them, returning from the spring. Soaps and lotions waited for them on top of the rock near the pool, along with several towels, and Erestor winked as he walked away from setting the items out for them.

Elrond rolled his eyes as a light blush rose in his cheeks. “Were we not quiet?”

Light laughter floated to them and Celebrían could not seem to help herself either, joining in. Unconcerned, she answered, “Apparently not.” She kissed him as she dropped her robe. “They heard us fight, and some heard us make up. If their mothers did not teach them to cover their ears, there is naught I can do.” Kissing him again, she pushed his robe off his shoulders and pulled him into the pool of cold water.

They returned to their tent amidst more amused grins and open smiles, but Elrond decided it had less to do with their campmates teasing them over how they made up and more to do with the lighter feeling between them, and in the camp. The camp cook was smiling happily as elves lined up for breakfast, and he beamed when Elrond appeared before him.

“You are eating, my lord,” he said happily. “It is the spice, I think, that draws you.” He winked at Elrond then, and Elrond nearly choked with laughter at the kindly cook's humor.

He carried dishes for himself and Celebrían to where she sat with her parents. She had not spoken to them the night before, and Elrond could not help but wonder if they would receive a parental scolding now for their public fight. Not a word was said, however, as Galadriel merely shifted aside so that Celebrían could gather Arwen into her arms. Knowing that Celebrían also wished to be with the twins when they awoke, Elrond was not surprised when his wife gently awoke their daughter.

“Nana!” yawned Arwen happily. “I thought I was dreaming, but you really are here.”

She had seemingly forgotten her parent's fight from the night before, and Celebrían shrugged at Elrond. He smiled his agreement to her unspoken decision; if Arwen wished to speak to them about it, she would.

Arwen basked in the attentions from her mother, as Celebrían helped her dress and fix her hair. Elrond then removed the splint from her hand, allowing her to move her fingers and show her mother where her hand had been smashed. Elrond examined the small fingers, then, and announced, “I believe they are healed. You do not need to wear the splint any more.”

Arwen nearly glowed with delight. Erestor and Glorfindel came over to inspect the now healthy hand, and Glorfindel made a great tale telling Celebrían and Erestor of how brave she had been when they had saved her. The marks on her skin had nearly faded away completely, but Glorfindel still teased her, “Then just when I was sure we had all the plaster out of her, there would be another piece, teasing us. So we would pluck it out and toss it away. At times I thought the fragments were hopping back on to her when we were not looking. I had visions of Arwen on her wedding day, still plucking plaster from her skin!”

Arwen had wrapped her arms around Glorfindel and hugged him, all memories of the pain apparently gone to where useless, unpleasant memories were banished. Elrond watched quietly as his daughter was fussed over and praised for her bravery, and he began to believe that the trauma would fade and not scar her young mind permanently. The resilience of children amazed him.

“I agree. The twins talk of their falling into the waterfall as a great adventure; their terror and fears were also quickly forgotten. Another set of twins I know survived even worse, and grew to become wonderful adults. The resiliency of children is a trait that spans the ages, especially if those children are well loved,” replied Celeborn.

Elrond smiled at his father-in-law, unaware that he had spoken his last words out loud.

“I am glad you and Celebrían worked things out,” continued Celeborn. “The best part of a fight is, of course, making up afterward. It seems you have discovered that.”

Elrond felt a slow blush begin to creep up his neck again and silently cursed his father-in-law. Celeborn loved him like a son, yet felt no remorse at making him squirm when he wished.

“Elrond, the twins are waking,” interrupted Celebrían, saving him from having to respond.

Elladan had indeed awakened, and a smile spread across his face at seeing his parents walking hand in hand. Elrond could not help but see him as an elfling again as he melted into Celebrían arms when she knelt down and embraced him.

“How did you sleep?” she asked as she combed his hair with her fingers, working out tangles and massaging his head, which still made him purr like a kitten.

“Wonderfully well, Naneth,” he answered, the low purr rumbling deep within him as she worked her magic on his head. He leaned against her, contented.

Elrond sat down on the other side of Elrohir and studied his son carefully. Elrohir's eyes were closed, the eye sockets still sunken and his cheeks hollow, but when Elrond touched him he felt a strength within his son that had been missing the day before. “He slept well,” said Elladan thoughtfully. “He only woke twice that I know of, and Erestor was sitting beside us and helped make him comfortable both times.”

“Was he in pain?” asked Celebrían.

“Yes,” answered Elladan truthfully. “He is stiff and sore from lying in one position, for he cannot easily move his leg.”

Elladan rose to care for his own needs and find food for his growling stomach, and Elrond heard the cries of delight from the cook when Elladan asked for a double portion.

“Place your hands over Elrohir's heart and on his forehead,” Elrond instructed Celebrían. “Close your eyes, and just as you did last night, think about Elrohir and reach for him.” Celebrían did as instructed, and Elrond placed his hands over hers. He focused his healing energy on his son, and as he connected with his son's soul, he felt the presence of his wife. Not only did she add her own strength, she poured forth love as if she had an endless supply. Elrond felt it surround and envelop the fëa of their son, and then it flowed back through to him. To Elrond's delight, he felt a spark in Elrohir that had been missing for days.

Elrohir opened his eyes as his parents withdrew, and a smile crossed his face that nearly melted Elrond's heart. It was his special smile, one that started in the eyes, reached the mouth and radiated outward, and it was shared only with those he truly loved. Elrond helped Elrohir to rise so that Celebrían could wrap him in her arms. A look of utter contentment crossed Elrohir's face, and he too purred like a kitten as she caressed him.

Elrond watched them for some moments, barely able to hear the endearments and words of love that Celebrían whispered to her son. The effect was obvious, though, and when Celebrían laid him back on the cushions that Elrond had placed for him, his eyes were clearer and brighter than they had been since the day he left Imladris. Celebrían bathed and fed him, and her hands soothed him when Elrond removed the bandages to check the swelling in his leg.

“I will bring you some cold water,” said Elrond when he had finished. Although many would have done this task for him, Elrond rose and walked to the spring. He refreshed the water in the waterskin, unhappy that almost none of the previous day's water had been consumed, and then sat on the rock for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Elrohir seems quite well this morning,” said Erestor from behind him.

Elrond turned slightly. “He is. Thank you for watching over him last night.”

“If he is doing so well, why do you appear so troubled?” came Glorfindel's voice from his other side.

Elrond sighed. “I should have had Celebrían tied inside the basket and winched across the river. The effect she has had on Elrohir has been amazing; on all three children, really.”

“I understand two bags of feathers are being plucked from the reeds to make bird nests south of Tharbad,” began Erestor.

“And I remember quite well the look on a certain young elf's face and how much he improved when he woke up and realized his father held him in his arms,” added Glorfindel.

“I can only imagine, however, the look on the faces of my grandchildren if they were bereft a mother today because she had been foolish enough to cross that river.”

All three elves turned and stood at the sound of Galadriel's voice. “It is not like you to doubt your decisions, Elrond,” she continued. “It is a poor quality in a leader and a commander of forces.”

Elrond drew himself up straight as she walked around him. “Decisions that are right in battle or leading a people do not seem quite so clear in one's own family,” he admitted.

“Spouses do not always take well to being commanded,” agreed Galadriel. “Your words last evening were that you would make the same choice again. Did you mean what you said?”

Elrond met her gaze solidly. “Yes, my lady. I did. I may look upon the faces of my children now, and see their delight in having their mother with them, but faced with the same decision I would make the same choice.”

“Good,” answered Galadriel; then she suddenly smiled. “Your son is thirsty.”

Elrond grinned as he walked away, the unexpected support of his mother-in-law raising his spirits. He had no need to be right or for Celebrían to be wrong, but Galadriel's immediate comparison of the decisions he had made as commander and herald to the king to his responsibility as husband and father was a common approach for her. She valued duty and responsibility, and never failed to remind him of his.

As Elrond returned with the waterskin, he saw Elrohir lying on a pillow in his mother's lap. He was eating from her hand, despite having said he was satiated just a short while earlier. The smile remained on his face, and if anything, it widened when he saw his father approaching. Elladan was sitting with Arwen, Erestor and Glorfindel had moved near, and Celeborn sat on a log next to his daughter. Welcomed into the inner circle, Elrond sat on the bed next to Celebrían, and in the way only mothers seemed able to accomplish, she pulled him to her so that she held him and Elrohir comfortably.

“So, Elrohir, how may we entertain you today?” asked Celebrían as she ruffled his hair.

Elrohir looked from his father to Glorfindel with a smile. “Stories, Nana,” he answered. “Adar told us of Lindon and Glorfindel told us about being re-embodied and returning to Middle-earth, and then meeting Adar. Oh, and the story of the Lord of Gifts coming to Lindon!” Elrohir's voice rose in excitement. “I want to hear more stories of that time.”

“I want Nana to be in the stories,” added Arwen.

“The next part of the story should be told by your daeradar and daernaneth,” suggested Elrond. “After Annatar was turned away from Lindon, he traveled east to Eregion.”

Celeborn frowned and appeared about to decline, but a nudge from his daughter's foot reminded him of his expectant audience. “If I must,” he sighed dramatically, teasing them, but his voice quickly grew serious. “Telling of the folly of Eregion may be a good lesson, for perhaps this age will learn from the mistakes made in the last. But, as much as I wish to start with the arrival of the most important person to be born in Ost-in-Edhil, there are some tales that should be told first.”

“I know who it was!” cried Arwen. Celeborn held out his arms to her, and she ran to him. “Nana was the most important person born there!”

Celeborn smiled at his daughter. “Yes, Celebrían was born – a most important event.” He paused, an eyebrow raising at his grandchildren when Arwen giggled. “Well, you would not be here otherwise.”

Celeborn's eyes grew distant as he thought back over that time, and he instinctively held Arwen tighter. “The city had grown prosperous over the years . . .”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Celeborn walked down the stone-paved street, quiet activity all around him as elves shopped in the markets and stores that lined the entrance to the main plaza of the city. Ost-in-Edhil had grown from a tiny settlement to a prosperous and beautiful city, and Celeborn felt a certain sense of pride that he had been part of its development and growth. Doriath had long since fallen, and Sirion and Balar were also no more. Lindon was the pride of Gil-Galad and Círdan, but this city was an accomplishment for which he took some ownership.

The city had been founded by a contingent of primarily Noldor elves, many followers of Celebrimbor and his jewel-smiths, but its population had swelled as Nandor and green elves had followed, seeking their relatives who lived in Eriador and further east, beyond the Misty Mountains and the River Anduin. Amdir and Oropher had traveled east beyond the mountains, but many of the Sindar and Nandor had settled in the woods and plains of Eregion. Elflings of many ages played in the streets and fields near their parents' homes, and their laughter brought a smile to the faces of many an elf who had survived the fall of Beleriand. A new age, a new city, and now, new life.

Beyond the plaza, Celeborn could see a crowd gathering on the steps of the compound of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. Celebrimbor had built it as almost a small fortress, and inside he led his smiths in the forging and crafting of a variety of items that improved the city's function and beauty. For this, Celeborn did not begrudge him his secretive ways, for it benefited many. Celebrimbor was single-minded in his purpose, taking little interest in the day-to-day affairs of the people, and Celeborn did not begrudge his lack of interest either, for it kept him away from Galadriel. Long had the Noldor elf been infatuated with her, and Celeborn resented Celebrimbor's disregard for her married status.

The compound was set against the edge of the city, one road leading away from it north and eastward into Khazad-dum. To its back there was a high wall and beyond the wall the River Sirannon ran, joining at the other end of Ost-in-Edhil with the Glanduin. To the north and west, the city buffered the compound. It was an end point for all roads – they all led to it, but not past it, except for the road to the mines of the dwarves. Another road ran through the heart of the city, and it was this road that was used by the elves of Eregion and the dwarves of Moria to travel and conduct business and trade. Celebrimbor's road was his alone, shared with Narvi and other of the dwarves who supplied him with Mithril.

The geography made the compound an unlikely gathering place for any but the jewel-smiths who formed the brotherhood of the Mirdain. Curious, Celeborn edged into the back of the crowd, pointedly ignoring the murmurs from those who recognized him.

A tall, dark being stood at the top of the stairs, his head bowed slightly as he greeted Celebrimbor. He was neither elf nor man, but what he was Celeborn could not be sure. He was escorted by only a few of his own people, but with him was a young elf recently apprenticed to the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. The young elf's face was flushed with excitement, and when Celebrimbor excused him, it was the visitor who bade the youngster to stay.

“Far and wide have been my travels, and meeting a young one such as this, eager to learn his trade and eager to embrace new ways, has been refreshing to the spirit. Lord Celebrimbor, I honor the work you have accomplished here, and that you have encouraged the young to follow your paths and seek this new way of the future,” said the visitor, one hand on the young elf's shoulder.

As the visitor turned slightly, Celebrimbor could see the shining dark hair falling softly about a pale and beautiful face. Gems adorned his brow and the edging of his cloak, and as he moved the silk shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting the rays of the sun as might tiny prisms. He was beautiful and fair, as were his words.

He presented Celebrimbor with a small jeweled box, and Celeborn could see that the Celebrimbor was intrigued by what was within. He reached inside and drew out a long necklace with a single stone and a Mithril clasp. The gem sparkled and shone, and the gentle sway from its chain was spell-binding.

Celeborn shook his head, clearing his mind of such thoughts.

“What an exquisite gem,” murmured Celebrimbor, his words heard only by those near the stairs. “Is this of your making, your craft?”

The visitor bowed his head modestly. “It is perhaps one of my finest works, an accomplishment of many years toil.” He looked at Celebrimbor hopefully. “I have heard that none in Middle-earth surpass your skill; nay, that perhaps none in Arda do. Your opinion of how I might improve its enchantment, its ability to calm and instill peace in all who draw near it would mean much to me.”

Celebrimbor beamed. “Your words are too kind, but I appreciate them nonetheless. I think we might learn from each other. Will you come inside?”

The visitor again graciously bowed his head. “I would be honored.”

Celebrimbor had turned to lead the visitor inside, the young apprentice following closely on his heels, when Celeborn heard Celebrimbor ask, “Forgive my lack of decorum! You have traveled from the west, my lord, but I did not hear the name of your people nor even your true name.”

“I am Annatar,” said the being kindly.

Celeborn had turned to walk away, but at the name of the visitor he spun on his heel. He pushed several bystanders aside as he climbed the stairs, but by the time he had maneuvered his way to the top, the outer doors were closed and the gate into the compound was shut. He pounded his hand on the wrought metal.

“Lord Celeborn? Is aught wrong?” asked the doorkeeper.

“No,” answered Celeborn slowly. “Perhaps not.”

He hurried back to the courtyard of the city's office and main hall, and burst into the archives unannounced. An elf who was sorting the parchments and scrolls leapt to his feet, but Celeborn strode past him unmindfully. His mind was set on a particular document received from Gil-Galad, and he quickly sorted through correspondence from the king. Finding the scroll he was seeking, he unrolled it and read through it hurriedly. Annatar was the one they had been warned about, yet Gil-Galad's missive did not give factual reason or explanation for their warning. The message said Annatar was not to be trusted and had been shut out from Lindon. Elrond and Glorfindel had had an unpleasant encounter with him, and had been unable to determine of what lands or people he was lord, who had sent him or why, and the consensus had been that though fair in appearance and word, a menace lay hidden beneath his fair exterior.

Annatar had entered the city gates in the company of a young jewel-smith, and been taken directly to the compound of the Mírdain. He had bypassed the normal procedures followed by guests and visitors and now was ensconced in the one place where he would be difficult to seek out and question.

Filled with foreboding, Celeborn returned to his office.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

“Daeradar, how horrible for you to find Sauron in your city!” said Elladan sympathetically.

Celeborn sighed. “We did not know him as such for hundreds of years. Yes, we had been warned by Gil-Galad, but Annatar had found his welcome and means of protection, such as the brotherhood offered, and was beyond our reach. Like Gil-Galad, we had no reason to distrust him but instinct, and yet it would have been difficult to remove him without proof. Had we been able to stop him at the city's gates, perhaps we could have prevented his entrance, but once Celebrimbor had met him, I am not sure anything could have been done to shut him out.”

“Annatar was careful to remain out of sight,” said Galadriel harshly. “Celebrimbor also became more secretive, hiding his work from all but his own jewel-smiths.” Her expression softened somewhat. “Yet the city remained peaceful for long after that, and it was easy to dismiss any threat he may have posed.”

“Is that when Naneth was conceived, then?” asked Elladan, his eyes twinkling.

“Impertinent whelp,” commented Celeborn, but he smiled at his grandson's question. “Clearly your manners were inherited from your father's line.”

“Please, Daerada, tell us about Nana,” begged Arwen.

“Tonight,” promised Galadriel, her eyes on Elrohir, who was nearly asleep in his mother's arms.

Celebrían disentangled herself from her son and eased him to the pillows as everyone followed Galadriel from the small enclosure. Within moments, the healing elf was asleep, but for the first time in many days, he had a contented look and a slight smile on his lips.

* * * * *

A/N: What is known about the Second Age is found in just a few pages of the Tale of Years in Appendix B of The Lord of the Rings. Several versions of the story of Celeborn and Galadriel exist in ‘Unfinished Tales,' and provide us with more insight into the ideas Tolkien had about these characters and this time. He had not settled on one, and thus it is difficult to say anything is canon beyond the few events listed in the timeline. I am using some of the motivations and details concerning Annatar and Celebrimbor in particular in the section of UT called ‘Concerning Celeborn and Galadriel,' but regarding Celeborn and Galadriel I am picking and choosing what can I can use to make this into a believable story.

Daeradar…………grandfather

Daernaneth………grandmother

 

Chapters 14 - 16

 

Chapters 7 - 10