History Lessons, by Nilmandra

Chapter 7: Swords and the flight from Sirion

Glorfindel awoke just as Arien began her ascent and dressed quickly. He took careful note of his tidy quarters, and when he left, he closed the door carefully, marking the latch with a small amount of soft wax. He knew the house staff would not enter his room until later that morning.

Many of the warriors who served Imladris were already present on the practice field, and Glorfindel warmed up with them before joining them for a conditioning run that led along the terrace path, following the Bruinen to the Stone Seat, and finally wound its way up the steep cliffs that hemmed in the valley in which Imladris was located. Reaching the top of the cliff, Glorfindel paused to survey the breathtaking view that never ceased to awe him. Directly below him, still in the shade of the trees and hills, Imladris lay quiet, wisps of smoke rising from her chimneys. Dew hung heavy on the grass and trees below, glistening as the rays of the sun chased away the misty fog that hovered just above the ground. Anor was a cheery ball of yellow, and from his position atop the cliff he appeared to be standing on an even plane with the flaming orb. Sometimes he imagined that, if he looked close, he would see Arien appear from the fire.

For those who were watching from below, the golden-haired warrior radiated the sun's light as her beams caught him on the edge of the cliff, while the entire valley below him lay still in shadow. An imposing figure in person, here he loomed larger than life.

After a few moments' pause, Glorfindel joined the other warriors as they began their descent. The path was well traveled, but steep, and the fine balance and light feet of the elves served them well as they descended without mishap. Indeed, they were used to this run, and there were some who bragged they could complete it with their eyes closed. Reaching the bottom of the cliff, the warriors followed the path through the trees, finally arriving back at the training fields.

Glorfindel required this run of all novices and new warriors, but he went nearly every morning himself, as did many of the older warriors. Many an elfling who dreamed of being a defender of Imladris watched the warriors make their daily trek, imagining their own bodies disciplined and strong, and able to withstand the rigors of training and battle.

The warriors finished their exercises, some moving to the archery fields, others to the sword-masters. A light breakfast would be served at the barracks that housed the warriors in training. Glorfindel partook of the baths with his warriors, the warm pools and cool rinses soothing well used muscles. For breakfast, though, he would join Elrond's family in the house.

He finished his bath, and wrapped in a robe, he returned to the house, entering through the back door, and climbing the back stairs to his room. He carefully checked the hall before entering, ensuring no one else was present. At his door he examined the wax on the latch. He grinned, for it had indeed been disturbed. He removed his evidence carefully and entered the room slowly.

The room appeared undisturbed, but this did not concern Glorfindel. It was clear Erestor had been here, and the elf was only so creative. He had yet to be bested by the advisor and did not plan on today being the first occasion.

He entered his chamber and let his eyes slowly roam about the interior. Nothing appeared out of place. He stepped into the bathing alcove, quickly surveying the soaps and roots used for bathing the skin and hair. He opened the small jar that held the concoction used on the hair and immediately noted the slight difference in its fragrance. A grin slowly spread over his face. That which had been added to this vial had once been added by accident to a whole lot, and the few golden and silver haired elves residing in Imladris had sported green tinged locks for a day or so. Fortunately this had not included Lady Celebrían. Glorfindel had been on patrol when this occurred, thus sparing him as well. The mistake was easy to make, for the roots looked much alike.

Glorfindel smiled. This particular root had little effect on dark manes, but he was aware of one that tended to streak midnight tresses slightly. . . orange. It had medicinal properties and thus was kept in some abundance in Elrond's own stores. A little trip to the herb closet was added to his personal agenda for the day.

* * *

Elrond awoke feeling more refreshed and relaxed than he had in many a week. Celebrían was curled warmly against and on top of him, her head nestled into his shoulder, silver hair the only covering over the unmarred bare skin that wrapped around him, her legs tangled with his. They had latched the door from the inside, ensuring no small intruders would interrupt their evening, or morning, and Erestor had promised to see their sons properly awakened, dressed, fed and delivered to Istuion.

Tucking strands of silver hair behind her ear, he delicately traced its leaf-shaped outline, smiling as she shuddered ever so slightly in her sleep. He let his finger continue, barely touching the skin, down her cheek to her mouth, then following her neck to the collar bone and lightly tracing down her arm to her fingertips. Lifting her hand, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently.

"Elrond Peredhil, you remain in my bed when the dawn has already come?" Celebrían murmured sleepily as she twisted slightly to catch his lips with her own.

"Aye, my lady. Do you wish me to be about my tasks so soon?" Elrond smiled as his wife twisted further, until she was lying nearly atop him

"Nay, my lord," she whispered. "Your first tasks of the day are assigned to this chamber."

Elrond deftly rolled them both until she was on her back and he braced over her. "I fear I have been remiss in my duties of late. May I redeem myself at this late hour?"

Celebrían wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled his head down to her own. "It may take some time, for you have been negligent," she spoke between kisses.

"Then we had best begin," he answered, and he deepened the kiss, ending the need for further words.

* * *

"Let us go show Nana!" Elladan called to his brother. Carefully cupping the tiny kitten in his hands, he turned towards the hall that led to his parents' room.

Erestor caught the elfling in two steps and turned him back into the kitchens. "I think that kitten should stay with his naneth for a while longer," he directed the elfling back to the wooden box in the corner of the kitchen. "The mother-cat does not mind you holding her babies, but she would not like you running off with them."

Elrohir still knelt by the box, one finger gently petting one kitten after another. Elladan placed his kitten back in the box.

"Where are Ada and Nana?" asked Elladan impatiently.

"They are busy this morning and will not be joining us for breakfast," answered Erestor. "Come, you need to eat so you may arrive at your lessons on time."

Elladan and Elrohir reluctantly left the kittens and started for the dining hall. They exchanged a glance, grins spreading across both their faces. They broke into a run at the same instant, bypassing the dining room and heading back toward their rooms.

"Elladan! Elrohir! Come back here!" Erestor scrambled after them.

"We are just going to say good morning to Nana!" Elrohir called back over his shoulder.

The twins had just rounded the corner, giggling and unmindful of what lay ahead of them as they were watching over their shoulders to what chased them, when they were caught in the grasp of powerful hands, lifted from their feet, and then neatly tucked under strong arms.

"Glorfindel!" they cried in unison.

Glorfindel looked down at one and then the other. "Yes?" he responded.

Elladan giggled. "We are going to see Nana!"

"We are running from Erestor!" Elrohir laughed, honest even in his misdeeds.

"Both worthy endeavors," Glorfindel replied, eyes twinkling. "However, your nana is not available to see you at the moment and you two are late for breakfast."

Erestor breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Glorfindel with an elfling under each arm, but couldn't help the drift of his eyes to inspect the warrior's golden mane. He was not surprised at the lack of results, for he knew that some mornings the seneschal bathed at the warrior's barracks. He could wait for another day.

Taking Elrohir in hand, Erestor led them in for breakfast and afterwards escorted both children into Istuion's care. The cries of delight as the twins beheld the experiment for the day, a grooved board propped on a chair with a complete loop at the bottom, on which a four-wheeled cart was set to plunge, ensured they would not be tempted to bother any adults except Istuion for a while.

Erestor turned his attention to his day with a sigh of relief that he was no longer responsible for the twins, refusing to admit to himself that it had really only been for two hours that he had had to watch over them. Each minute surely counted for ten.

* * *

Angren laid the two swords in their sheaths on the table, the scabbards of oiled leather carved and dyed in an intricate design with the Star of Eärendil obvious near the top of the sheath. Glorfindel and Elrond each picked up one, carefully inspecting the workmanship of the sheath before withdrawing the small sword.

Elrond held the sword upright, feeling its precise balance and noting the carving and words of protection etched into the blade near the handle. He swung the blade quickly, listening to the swish as it cut the air. He placed it carefully back into its sheath and exchanged it for the one Glorfindel held. He performed the same maneuvers and inspection on the second blade, finally laying it down on the table again.

"They are beautifully crafted, Angren," Elrond praised the ironsmith. "They will serve my sons well."

Angren beamed at the words of praise spoken by his lord. "Thank you, my Lord." He turned to the children, both waiting as patiently as they could to see their swords. "Care for them well, little masters, and return them to me should they sustain injury."

"Yes, Master Angren," Elladan and Elrohir replied in unison, but their eyes were on the scabbards.

Glorfindel tucked both swords under his arm, and they departed the smith's forge. Glorfindel smiled as the twins ran for the training field, their excitement palpable. They reached the field first and waited with breathless anticipation until their father and Glorfindel finally arrived. Elrond took the swords from Glorfindel and knelt down before his sons. He looked at them solemnly, but his eyes were dark with love as well.

"Elladan and Elrohir, receiving your first sword is an occasion of both great excitement and great responsibility. Are you prepared to accept the responsibility that comes with bearing such a weapon?" Elrond asked them.

"Yes, Ada," Elladan and Elrohir spoke as one, their eyes still shining but their demeanor and words reflecting their father's seriousness.

"With these swords you will learn to defend yourselves and our people," said Elrond slowly, letting the impact of each word sink into willing vessels. "You must care for your sword properly, so that it will always be in the finest condition to serve you. You must be disciplined in your use of this sword, so that you never hurt anyone due to carelessness or misplaced anger. You must be responsible to learn all that we have to teach you and to use your skill wisely. Do you agree to all of these things?"

"Yes, Ada," Elladan answered first when his father met his eyes.

"Yes, Ada," Elrohir answered in turn.

Elrond motioned for them to sit and then presented Elladan's sword to him.

"May this sword serve you well, Elladan, and may the Valar guide your hand and protect you when you bear it."

Elladan nodded, speechless.

Elrond presented Elrohir's sword to him. "May this sword serve you well, Elrohir, and may the Valar guide your hand and protect you when you bear it."

Elrohir took the sword and met his father's gaze. "Thank you, Ada."

The elflings carefully fingered the scabbards, tracing the designs in the leather, then withdrew the swords and inspected the metal. Elrond demonstrated the sharpness of the blade by easily cutting a twig in half.

"These will serve you well for several years, until you are much bigger. We will practice with these once you have mastered the movements with your wooden training swords," explained Elrond.

"Ada, may we keep these in our room, instead of the armory?" Elrohir asked with wide eyes, enthralled with this gift.

Elrond thought for a moment. "You may. But you are never to take it out of its sheath while in the house. Do you promise me this?"

"Yes, Ada," Elladan answered. "I do promise. I will never take it from its sheath in the house."

Elrond smiled inwardly. Elladan was impetuous and a bit hotheaded at times, and Elrond was pleased he understood the seriousness of this promise enough to repeat it and show his understanding.

"Yes, Ada," Elrohir answered, his sword clasped to his chest.

Glorfindel had stood aside and watched the ceremony with pride, both in Elrond and in the children. Now he stepped forward.

"Are you ready for your lessons?"

"Yes!" And the elflings were on their feet and in position in the blink of an eye. Glorfindel paired with Elladan and Elrond with Elrohir, and they resumed where they had left off the day before.

* * *

"Ada, you must continue the story today!" Elrohir was adamant. "You and Uncle Elros were taken by Maedhros and Maglor, and you promised to tell us about them."

Elrond smiled at the elflings watching him with eager faces. Glorfindel made room for Celebrían to sit beside him, and Istuion slipped into a corner. He had enjoyed hearing the stories as more than just a lesson on how to teach children. Elrond glanced only briefly at the adults in the room, and then returned his attention to his sons.

"Maedhros was angry that the Silmaril had slipped from his grasp again, whereas Maglor was in awe that the mighty Vala, Ulmo, had saved Elwing and the Silmaril. I think that if Maglor had been alone he might have just given us over to the elves of Sirion who had gathered near the shore, but Maedhros had other ideas….."

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Maglor could feel the weight of the child he carried shift, and glancing to the side he saw the child stretch out his arms to the she-elf they had just left to die in the reeds. He quickly caught up to his brother, who held the squirming and crying replica of the child he carried.

"Maedhros, what do you intend to do with them?" Maglor demanded.

"They come with us," answered Maedhros shortly. He continued with long strides up the hill to the road, ignoring the howls and kicks of the child in his arms, until he came upon part of his force. He mounted his horse quickly, using his knees to guide the animal as one arm was in use holding the child and the other in holding his sword.

"To me!" Maedhros shouted. "Ride west!"

Warriors scrambled to follow Maedhros, ceasing their fighting and redirecting their swords to the defense of his back. Maglor quickly mounted his horse as well and followed, several times looking back to the shores. The Sirion elves fell back, allowing the Noldor attackers to leave without interference until one spotted the child in Maedhros' arms.

"Those are the sons of Eärendil!" one Sirion elf cried as the forces of Maedhros rode by. He stepped forward in front of Maedhros' horse. "Leave the children here!"

Maedhros maneuvered his horse deftly to the side, and with one vicious swing of the sword, parted the elf's head from his body. Nudging his horse to a gallop, Maedhros swiftly led his forces to the northwest out the walls his younger brothers had breached before dying themselves.

Once clear of the Havens, Maedhros sheathed his sword and slowed his horse and Maglor drew up next to him. Maedhros still gripped the child tightly with his handless arm, and when he loosened his arm slightly to allow the child to slip down and sit before him he noted the bruising about the child's arm. Lifting the child's tunic he saw that the bruising extended across the abdomen. Elros had ceased squirming or fighting, and instead seemed rather limp.

In Maglor's arms, Elrond remained mute and clung to his captor, his eyes fixed on the Havens, the city shrinking in the distance as they drew away from it.

"This child is injured," Maedhros said, no remorse in his voice.

"You have nearly suffocated him." Maglor stopped his horse next to Maedhros and looked carefully at the child. "He cannot breathe if you press him into your tunic like that. Let me have him."

Maedhros relinquished the child without hesitation, but was surprised when Maglor did not give him the child he carried.

"Give him to me while you tend that one," he ordered.

"I don't need them both injured," replied Maglor, exasperation touched with defiance in his voice. He tugged Elrond down so the child was sitting before him, and then laid Elros in his twin's lap, both children supported in the crook of his arm. "Get me a light blanket."

A piece of torn fabric appeared from behind him, and he fashioned a bit of a sling to help hold the children to him. He opened his water skin and poured a few drops of water into the mouth of Elros, which seemed to revive him. The child tried to sit up and cried out in pain, his breaths coming out in short gasps. Maglor felt the child's abdomen gently, careful not to further injure the already bruised skin. Elrond held his brother's hand, his other arm wrapped around his brother's shoulders, holding him in place.

"Thank you for helping, Elrond," Maglor whispered. "Elros, I am sorry this hurts. I will try to lessen the pain."

Maglor turned to his brother and found him already walking his horse further ahead as he spoke to several of his men. "Maedhros!" he called. "His ribs are broken. I need to stop and bind them."

"Tonight," answered Maedhros shortly. "We will stop in a few hours, and you may tend him in the camp."

"I am stopping now to tend him. You may wait or I will catch up with you later," Maglor replied coldly.

Maedhros stopped and looked back at his brother. He had the two children before him on the horse, water skin in hand and one of the most intense looks on his face that Maedhros had ever seen. Maedhros gripped the reins tight, anger welling within him. His eyes narrowed and darkened. He rode back to Maglor.

"Do not defy my authority in front of my warriors," he hissed.

"Do not force me to do so by being cruel to these children," Maglor hissed back. He motioned to Elros. "His ribs are broken, and he is in pain. I am going to wrap them and try to find something to give him for the pain. He does not need to suffer so."

Maedhros looked at the two solemn and scared children. He was not moved by the innocence of children, particularly these that belonged to the woman who had removed the Silmaril from his grasp. Yet he did not desire to fight with his only remaining brother.

"Be swift," commanded Maedhros.

Maglor slid carefully from the horse, and motioned for one of the warriors to aid him. The warrior Hathel spread a blanket upon the ground, and Maglor laid the children upon it as gently as he could. Elrond still held Elros, and when Elros cried out from the change in position, tears slipped silently from Elrond's eyes.

Maglor sent Hathel in search of a healer or at least the supplies of a healer, while he gently pulled up the child's tunic. Using a sharp knife, he cut a strip of cloth from his own under-tunic and bound the child's ribs. Elros seemed to have discovered that moving and crying caused pain, and he ceased doing both. Hathel returned with a healer's supplies, and Maglor quickly mixed up a sleeping draught, guessing to use about one eighth of the amount used for an adult. Elros drank it without question.

"Would you like a drink of water?" Maglor held out his water skin to Elrond.

The child took it, but when he tried to lift it to his mouth, some of the water spilled and Maglor quickly grabbed the skin and held it for the child.

"What is his age?" Hathel asked. He had children, and when they were of this size they could certainly drink from a water skin.

Maglor was silent for a moment. "If he had only elven blood I would say he was conceived perhaps seven summers ago. But he is half-Edain and they grow faster. He is likely younger than he appears to us."

Elrond looked at the elf seriously, and then held up three fingers.

"You are three?" Maglor asked.

Elrond nodded.

"Do you talk yet?" Maglor asked.

Elrond nodded.

"Can you tell me your name?"

Elrond merely stared at him, then returned his attention to his brother, patting the small hand and stroking the dark hair.

Hathel shrugged. "Perhaps he will speak when he is less scared."

"Help me to get them back on the horse," Maglor instructed. He reached to pick up Elros, but Elrond would not let go of his brother. With a sigh he instead secured them together and then wrapped the cloth around himself, and allowed Hathel to help him on to his horse. Hathel tucked the blanket between the horse and the children, raising them to a height where Maglor could comfortably carry them, and then mounted his own horse.

Maedhros had been watching from a distance, and when he saw his brother back on his horse, he led the party westward again. They rode for several hours, finally making camp in the fleeting evening light.

Hathel again helped Maglor, aiding his dismount and spreading the blanket out near to where the fire would be built. He refilled the water skin from the nearby creek, and placed it near Maglor.

Hathel looked upon the children, one in an induced sleep and the other finally asleep from exhaustion. "What will we feed them?" he whispered to Maglor.

Maglor considered the dried provisions set before them, and then the children. "Heat some water, and we will try softening the meat," he finally said.

Hathel did as instructed, and when the meat was warm and soft, Maglor awakened Elrond.

"You need to eat, child," Maglor placed the small plate in Elrond's hands.

Elrond looked at the food, then set the plate down and curled back around his brother protectively.

"He will eat tomorrow," Hathel said confidently. "He is just tired and scared."

Maglor covered the twins with a blanket and ate his own dinner in silence.

* * *

The children were awake but had not moved when Maglor checked on them the next morning. He lifted Elros and the child whimpered. The child did not need to relieve himself, and Maglor tried to encourage him to drink more water. He would take no food and little water, and Maglor finally dosed him with another draught to take away the pain.

Elrond would not leave his brother willingly, and Maglor was unwilling to force the issue. He did relieve himself just beyond the edge of the blanket and took a few sips of water. He also would take no food, and as soon as left alone, he curled around his brother again. Maglor wrapped them in the cloth and secured them to himself, then allowed Hathel to assist him on to his horse and the children into position.

Maedhros had stayed far from Maglor in camp, and as the ride began he again took the lead. Maglor's ire was raised; why Maedhros wanted the children, and why they had headed west and not east yet remained a mystery to him. He would not accept his brother's sullenness much longer.

They rode the day in silence, taking only brief respites for the horses, and camped again. The children did not eat and lay as if they were just dolls, unmoving, without any sound. They both took sips of water when offered but did not ask. Maedhros avoided Maglor again, and Hathel, who had appointed himself aid to Maglor, grew more concerned for the young ones.

Maglor spread his bedroll next to the little ones again that night, and slept with them between his own body heat and that of the fire. The night air was chilly, and a light rain fell, soaking them. The elves were not bothered, but Maglor noticed the small figures shivering. He moved closer to the children, and drew them into his bedding, covering them with his outer tunic and placing his blanket over the one already covering them. He smiled gratefully when Hathel added his own blanket, and returned minutes later with another. It was some time before the bodies stopped trembling and teeth chattering, and the sons of Eärendil finally fell back asleep.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

There was silence as Elrond stopped his tale; then Elrohir climbed into his ada's lap and hugged him tight. Elladan joined him, and whispered, "Ada, I think Maglor was nice for making you warm again."

"Yes, he was nice for doing that," agreed Elrond. He kissed each dark head. "Now go wash your face and hands for dinner."

Elladan and Elrohir departed, Istuion following silently after them. Celebrían joined Elrond, seating herself in his lap. She kissed him and then rested her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, a message came while you were out on the training field!" She laughed with delight as she drew the parchment from the pocket in her gown. She opened it and handed it to her husband, re-reading it as he perused the contents.

"Your parents will arrive within the week," Elrond said for Glorfindel's sake. "Ah, and your father is bringing the bows."

"Can you tell how excited he is that you asked him to teach the bow to Elladan and Elrohir?" Celebrían asked.

"Your father is one of the best archers I have ever known," Elrond answered.

Celebrían beamed. Sliding off his lap, she kissed him again. "I must see to their rooms."

Elrond laughed as she gracefully exited the study, her excitement at seeing her parents again equally obvious. She enjoyed their visits to Imladris immensely.

* * *

Elrond quietly opened the door to the room the twins shared, checking on them as he did each night before retiring himself. Both elflings were sound asleep, peaceful in the moonlight that shone in from the balcony. With a smile he noted the sheathed swords the children had cuddled with after he had tucked them into bed. He carefully extricated the scabbard from Elladan's grasp, and then did the same with Elrohir, returning each sword to its rightful place in the chest at the end of each bed. He would need to add the rule that swords were not to be slept with either. He kissed them each again, then silently slipped from the room.

* * * * *

Chapter 8: Creative Elves and Music Therapy

Erestor listened to the fading sounds of music drifting from the Hall of Fire as he walked to his rooms. Visiting Dúnedain made for a ready audience and many of Imladris' finest singers and musicians had gathered spontaneously to entertain their guests and each other. It was a beautiful spring night, and many elves were sitting or wandering under the stars, singing to Elbereth and praising the beauty she had created. Music spilled from the Hall into the moonlight, and a beautiful harmony resulted from the mixing of voices within and outside the house. Erestor enjoyed such evenings, enjoyed hearing the news brought by those who sought rest and refuge at the Last Homely House East of the Sea. Now, though, he wished for solitude, and the view from his room was as glorious as any. The waterfalls provided their own harmony with the murmur of the trees and singing of the crickets, soothing the body and soul, and Erestor envisioned appreciating that peace in the luxury of a warm bath.

Reaching his room he neatly hung his outer robes and carefully folded his trousers and tunic, placing them in the wardrobe. He turned on the water taps, and gave silent thanks for the hot water works. He added his favorite oils, then slipped with a sigh into the warm water. He felt his muscles relax and he soaked for some minutes with his eyes closed. He appreciated what his other keen senses brought him more acutely at such times: the smell of sandalwood and lavender in the oils; the fragrance of the lilacs growing near to his window; the crickets chirping and the water flowing from the mountaintops into the Bruinen.

At such times he contemplated life in Arda and thought of loved ones who had sailed West. The peace of Valinor, an end to the weariness long life wrought in Middle-Earth, and reunion with loved ones filled his mind. He wondered when the desire to sail would come upon him, as it had upon so many others. He would not go until Elrond left; that much he knew with surety.

With a small smile he slid until he was under water, wetting his hair, then resurfaced. He reached for the small jar of hair tonic and removed the cap. One sniff alerted him to the attempted revenge of a certain golden-haired elf. A grin spread across his face. So Glorfindel had discovered his little gift. He was not surprised; he did not underestimate the one who had been to Mandos and been returned whole and healed, strong and full of purpose. But did the Elf really expect him to fall for his own misdeed?

Erestor cautiously emptied the container, careful to leave no residue behind. It took very little to turn dark hair orange. He momentarily considered placing the substance into the baths of others, but decided that thwarting Glorfindel silently was more enjoyable than drawing others into their games. He stepped, dripping, to the wall cabinet, and removed another container. He sniffed it carefully and once satisfied he would not rue its use, returned to the tub and finished his ablutions.

Once dried, he retired to his bed and lay where his view of the stars was greatest. Sparring with Glorfindel was amusing - but they both had become predictable, as evidenced by this latest round of frivolity. And so he drifted into elvish dreams, a slight hope on the fringe of his thought that perhaps Lórien, Master of Dreams, would plant an inspiring idea during the night.

* * *

Glorfindel watched with amusement as Erestor entered the dining hall. The advisor appeared quite. . . normal. Even amused.

"Good morning, Glorfindel," Erestor smiled his greeting.

"Greetings to you, Erestor," Glorfindel answered politely.

The two stared at each other, both with eyes twinkling. Erestor laughed first. He clapped Glorfindel on the back, his hand lingering upon a braid he caught up in his fingers. "Have I ever mentioned how lovely I find the golden strands of your hair, my friend?"

"No, you have been remiss." Glorfindel reached for a handful of Erestor's dark hair, and rubbed it gently between his fingers. "Have I mentioned how enchanting I find your midnight tresses?"

"Nay, you also have been remiss," answered Erestor pleasantly.

"I think we grow old," Glorfindel finally sighed. "Are we so predictable?"

"I am afraid so," admitted Erestor.

"Have you any remedy to cure this malady?" inquired Glorfindel.

"I have requested aid from Valinor; but alas, Lórien has not yet responded to my petition."

"I may try this approach as well; perhaps I will be received more kindly?"

"Because of your previous sojourn there?" scoffed Erestor. "I should think that such experience would clearly sway Lórien to favor me."

Glorfindel arched an eyebrow at Erestor. "So, the terms of engagement must be set. Whatever folly is undertaken must not have been accomplished previously by either party. Only original plans may be considered."

"Challenge accepted, with conditions," answered Erestor, with a wise and knowing expression. "No harm may befall other residents or visitors of Imladris, or the establishment itself. Also, no elflings may assist in the planning or execution of any endeavor."

Glorfindel clutched his tunic over his heart. "You wound me, my friend. You think I would ask for aid from the sons of Elrond?"

"Yes," Erestor answered without hesitation. "I think you might even involve them without their knowledge. You may not use them, with or without their permission."

Hand still covering his heart, Glorfindel bowed to Erestor, who returned the gesture.

* * *

"What ever are they doing?" Celebrían leaned to whisper in Elrond's ear.

"I know not," Elrond replied, a furrow in his brow. "In times of peace they can become quite…creative. They seek amusement." He turned to face Celebrían. "I will assign them additional tasks," he said resolutely.

Celebrían laughed aloud, the sound like silver bells ringing in perfect pitch. "My father may enjoy such amusement!"

Elrond sighed as he considered the ramifications if Lord Celeborn became embroiled in their skirmish, and then turned to the two in question. He glared at them, causing them both to smile with amusement. Their smiles did nothing to hide the gleam in their eyes.

* * *

"Istuion, what is a folly?" Elrohir looked up from his assignment, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Istuion looked at the child in surprise. That was certainly not a word he had seen in the lessons he had assigned to the elflings. "A folly is an act of foolishness," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Ada says Glorfindel and Erestor are foolish," Elrohir answered.

Istuion nearly choked on the water he was sipping. He coughed several times and cleared his throat. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he contemplated responding to Elrohir's statement or simply moving on to a new subject. The recent scene of Lord Glorfindel growling and crawling on the floor as he chased the twins from his study surfaced in his thoughts and he could not help himself. "That would seem an…interesting…thing to call Lord Glorfindel," he finally answered. "Are you sure that is what your father said?"

Elrohir nodded seriously. "He said Glorfindel and Erestor and their follies are about to start again. He is going to give them more work to do to keep them busy."

Istuion was trying very hard not to smile and finally had to duck his head under the desk to retrieve an imaginary dropped item to keep from doing so in front of the child. He resurfaced once he had regained control of himself. "Your adar is very wise," he managed. "I am sure he will keep Lord Glorfindel and Erestor quite busy and out of trouble. Now, are you done with your assignment?"

Elrohir shook his head and bent back over his work. He wondered what his father had meant by 'again'.

* * *

Elrond sat at the desk in his study and carefully studied the faces of the two elves before him. He had learned over time to read faces and had become adept at sensing the motivations of those who came before him. These two elves, however, were both his senior by many years and had much experience in both reading others and hiding their own thoughts. Their faces were impassive, but their eyes twinkled. He suspected they were laughing at his expense. He sighed audibly.

"Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel shall arrive within the week," he said in exasperation. "Do I at least have your word that they shall not be engaged or otherwise affected by whatever it is you two are planning?"

"We have no plans, Master Elrond," Glorfindel replied innocently.

"None," Erestor confirmed.

Elrond closed his eyes for a moment. Anytime Glorfindel called him 'Master' in private meant that the games were about to begin. "Glorfindel, surely there are warriors to be trained, novices who should be taken into the mountains for some experiential learning?"

"No, my Lord," Glorfindel answered. "The patrol and training schedules are set for the next two months."

"Erestor, the planning for the spring planting surely cannot be completed? Is there not work you would wish to oversee yourself?"

"No, my Lord," Erestor smiled charmingly. "With the aid of the lovely Lady Celebrían, we are ahead of schedule this year."

Elrond watched the pair, standing so casually in front of him, hands clasped behind their backs, and innocent looks gracing their faces. How he had longed for peace, how happy he was in the Last Homely House with his wife and children, and all those who made up his household. But these two, his closest advisors and friends - tended to get very creative and merry when not otherwise occupied. Such times had produced wonderfully creative inventions, beautiful ballads and tasty concoctions from the kitchen. Such times had also produced green hair, broken limbs and gastrointestinal discomfort. For the most part their intentions were good, even constructive. He finally smiled. "I am most glad that I can count on you both to help make the Lord and Lady comfortable and their stay enjoyable."

"Of course, Elrond," they replied in unison. With slight bows to him, they left the room.

Glorfindel and Erestor walked several paces down the corridor in silence, both with slight smiles.

"I wish we did have something planned," Glorfindel finally said.

"I wish we did too," Erestor answered. "Elrond surely seems to think we do. Of course, doing nothing when he expects something is actually doing something, for if nothing else, we shall aggravate him with the suspense."

"That actually made sense," Glorfindel replied, raising an eyebrow at the advisor. "Maybe I do need to take novices into the mountains."

Erestor laughed. "I think you are needed elsewhere, my friend." As he spoke, the twins appeared in the hallway and Glorfindel was willingly dragged off for the midday meal.

* * *

The midday meal had just been served when a messenger arrived. The guard caught Glorfindel's attention, and motioned for him to bring Elrond and come immediately. A man, one of the Dúnedain who lived in the North, stood in the front hall.

"Lord Elrond," the man greeted him immediately with a bow. "One of our men has been injured in a mud slide in the Misty Mountains. I have been sent ahead to request your aid, to ask if we might bring him here."

Glorfindel left the hall before Elrond could respond, calling softly to the guard outside the front porch of the house to arrange for a rescue group, with litter, to assemble immediately near the stables.

"Of course. Please, come inside and eat while you tell me more of what happened, that I might best prepare for his arrival," Elrond replied kindly, his eyes noting the weariness in the man's eyes and the dust and dirt that covered him. "Are you injured?"

"No, my Lord. Just tired and dirty from the rescue and the ride here," the man answered quietly. He allowed himself to be led to a table in the kitchen, where he was immediately served hot tea and a hearty stew. He quickly told Elrond all he knew of the injuries, which appeared severe, and then the Elf-Lord left him to prepare for the injured man's arrival.

The tired man was surprised when his dishes were whisked away, and another elf appeared to escort him to a room. A steaming tub of water was prepared for him, and clean clothing was folded on the bed. Hot water for tea was set on a small table, with a variety of herbs available from which he could choose.

The elf bowed to him. "Word will be sent when the rest of your party arrives. Please rest and be comfortable until then."

The man nodded his thanks and the elf slipped from the room. He glanced at the sweet smelling soaps and oils, their fragrance already soothing his mind. Such luxuries were not afforded to those who patrolled the north. He wondered if he were dreaming, for his weary mind could not comprehend this welcome; indeed he felt as if he were a near relative returned home from a long journey. He shook his head to clear it, then removed his travel stained clothing and slipped into the warm water.

* * *

Elrond cut the tattered cloth from the injured man's leg, exposing a severe break and the subsequent tissue damage. The skin was filthy from the dirt and rock that had buried the man in the fall. Glorfindel worked across from him, removing the rest of the man's clothing and beginning the work of cleansing him of the grime while Elrond assessed his injuries.

His color was poor, his skin clammy and cool to the touch. His pulse was thready and fast, and there was evidence of much blood loss before the man's companions had managed to tie off the flow from the wounded leg. The light touch of Elrond's hands discovered a broken wrist and fingers on the right hand, broken ribs, and damage to the lung on that same side. He examined the lacerations and cuts as Glorfindel uncovered them, determining which would require stitching and which would heal without such intervention. A deep gash on his scalp had bled much, and the man's hair was matted, his face crusted, as the blood dried there.

The room was busy with elves moving quietly about their tasks, bathing and rinsing wounds and applying healing creams. Gentle hands worked swiftly to aid him, and there were several who took up positions near uninjured parts of his body. They laid their hands upon him, and raised their voices in soft melody. The song wrought peace on all in the room, and gradually the man's color improved. Soon the man was clean and his hair washed, wounds were stitched and bandaged as needed, broken bones set and braced, ribs bound, and after several hours work, the broken leg repaired. That wound they would not close right away, but packed instead in healing herbs and wrapped in soft cloths.

Erestor had seen to the other rangers, who had been quickly escorted from the room with assurances that their friend was in the best of hands. The same surreal sense of wonder was upon each of them, none previous visitors to Imladris, as they were fed, offered baths and provided comfortable beds in which to rest. Garments were provided for them while their own clothing was cleaned and repaired, and invitations extended to come to the Hall of Fire that night, if they so wished. The leader of the group, young himself in years and experience, stopped Erestor in the hall as he returned to his room.

"I thank you, on behalf of my men, for the kind welcome your have given to each us, as well as for tending to Albast. Tales of the hospitality and kindness of this house are more than proved true with that which has been shown us. If I may be so bold as to ask, why is your Lord so generous?"

Erestor smiled. "Master Elrond would treat any guest or one who came in need to Rivendell with such care. Yet you of Westernesse are special to him. To know why, you must seek your own history, that of your first King of Númenor. He paused as the man looked upon him in dawning recognition. Erestor laughed. "Yes, I see you do know of the tale. Tar-Minyatur was brother to Master Elrond." He bowed to the man. "Good night, my friend."

* * *

It was well past the dinner hour when Elrond finished tending the ranger. He left draughts for pain and sleep should they be needed, with instructions to seek him should problems arise, and then left the ranger in the capable hands of those who would watch over him.

He entered his chambers and saw the bath prepared for him, robes folded neatly on a nearby chair, and a glass of wine on the ledge that held the soaps and oils for bathing. He could hear Celebrían's voice from the sitting room, rising and falling in story, and he knew she read to their sons. Stripping off his soiled clothing, he slipped into the water and allowed the warmth to envelop and soothe him. He sipped the wine and noted she had chosen his favorite red. His eyes closed, he drifted in reflections and mostly considered how much he loved his wife.

"Your skin begins to wrinkle, meleth-nín." A soft voice whispered in his ear. He opened his eyes to see Celebrían perched next to him, warm towels in hand. < my love >

"You will look like an old prune soon," she teased.

"I fell asleep," Elrond blinked. The water had cooled to room temperature and he was wrinkling.

"Yes, you did," Celebrían laughed. "Come." She held the towel open for him, and wrapped it around him as he stepped into it, rubbing him briskly as she did so. She held his robe open, allowing him to slip his arms in, and then belted it at his waist. She smoothed out the folds and adjusted the collar, then wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his head down for a kiss. She broke contact all too soon. "Elladan and Elrohir are waiting to say goodnight. They would like you to continue the story, but I have told them it might have to wait until tomorrow."

Elrond pulled her close again. "I love you, Celebrían."

She started to answer back, but he held his fingers to her lips. "I have to use words this night for that which you have already said with deeds." He crushed her to him for just a moment, his heart and soul exposed, and Celebrían felt the rush of energy that was his feä, his love surrounding her, encompassing her, lifting her - the intensity so seldom fully shared with her that when he drew away she was breathless. With a final caress of her cheek, he went in search of their children.

She stood still for a moment, feeling weak in her knees. She touched her cheek, the tingle still present where he had touched her. She wondered, as she often had since she had met this half-elf, what blood a mortal must possess that their spirit contained such fierceness and passion. He had explained once that a mortal did not bind in the way of elven-kind; they did not share what elves did in the binding of their spirits. Being of both kinds, he still had some of the ferocity of the Edain and the ability to share it as an Eldar. She sat down carefully on the chair and allowed her mind to perfectly remember that which she had just experienced, storing it away that she might recall it at will.

* * *

"Ada!" Elladan and Elrohir jumped to their feet and rushed to greet their father. Each taking a hand, they led him to the couch and climbed up on either side.

"Ada, did you see all the rangers here?" Elladan asked.

"Ada, did you take care of the one who was hurt? Did you make him better?" Elrohir spoke in quick succession to his brother.

"I did see them, and I did tend the one who was injured. He will need to stay with us for some time while he recovers," Elrond answered, pulling Elrohir into his lap and drawing Elladan into the crook of his arm.

"Ada, they were in a rock slide," Elladan informed him.

"They were," confirmed Elrond. "Melting snow and spring rains make the mountain passes treacherous at this time of year. The soil becomes soft, and sometimes it releases and slides down the slope without warning."

"Can we meet the ranger who is hurt?" Elrohir asked.

"When he feels better, you may," Elrond answered. The twins settled in comfortably, and he heard a yawn from Elladan.

"Ada, tell us more about when your brother Elros was hurt," said Elladan, a yawn interrupting his thought, "and Maglor helped him," Elrohir finished.

"Maglor was becoming very worried about us, particularly about Elros, for he would neither eat nor drink," Elrond continued. He smiled as Celebrían joined them, extinguishing some of the lights. "We had been traveling for several days……"

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Maglor shifted the children against him, using his knees to adjust the blanket that helped prop them in place. Neither stirred, and he slipped one hand under the tunic of the injured child, Elros, who lay across his knees, and felt again the dimming of his spirit. The spark of the child's feä was fading slowly, a little more each day. The beat of the child's heart also slowed and grew faint. Elrond was slumped against him, his face pressed against Maglor's chest and his brother cradled in his lap. Maglor cupped the child's face with his large hand and turned the small face slightly. Dark circles under sunken eyes, the skin pale, and now his feä, too, had begun to fade. Maglor felt despair grow in him.

He reasoned he cared because they were kin, distant kin, but related nonetheless. He reasoned he cared because they were children, and did not the elves value their children? He reasoned he cared because to look upon them was to see Amras and Amrod - different in appearance, certainly, but they evoked in him the same emotion he had experienced the day his father had laid twin baby brothers, youngest of the sons of Fëanor, into his arms. Perhaps he cared simply because they gave him reason to care, to be responsible for the care of a helpless being.

Yet he knew they would die, and he did not know how to stop the fading that would claim their lives.

He heard the call to halt, and looking to the head of the line he saw Maedhros dismount and begin to organize the camp. The sun was yet high, and Maglor had hope this place might be a more permanent camp. Maglor continued to ride forward, the others in the line parting and allowing passage, until he drew near to the site. Hathel was at his back, and the warrior quickly jumped to the ground and relieved Maglor of his twin burdens.

"We will make camp here," Maedhros announced. He paused for a moment, noting the tension in his brother's frame. "How do Eärendil's sons fare?"

Maglor sighed wearily. "They fade, Maedhros. They will not last much longer."

Maedhros did not answer, but approached the bundle Hathel had just laid upon a blanket and knelt down beside the children. He gently uncovered them, pulling the blanket back that he might see them for himself. As his brother had done before him, he touched them softly and felt the fading of their spirits. The pity he had denied he felt for them for days surfaced in his heart again, and he felt troubled.

"Is there nothing that can be done?" he asked softly.

Maglor remained mute. He did not know how to stop such a process. Of those in this party who had children, none knew of a situation where younglings of this tender age were deprived of family. None knew of even a similar situation. And none knew how to revive a fading spirit.

"I will have water sent, and fresh food. Perhaps that will entice them," Maedhros answered his own question.

"Why did we take them? What purpose did you have for them?" Maglor hissed.

Maedhros grimaced. "I had hope that if Elwing returned with the Silmaril, we would have something she would desire for a trade, that she would give it up in exchange for her sons."

"We saw Ulmo rescue her! Why would he allow her to return?" Maglor demanded.

"You do not know that he would not," Maedhros replied sternly.

Maglor slumped. Maedhros was right. He remained ever true to their father, ever faithful to the oath. He saw an opportunity, a potential bargaining token and he took it. His decisions were not clouded by pity.

Maglor stroked the dark heads. "Hostages are of little use if they are dead. All these two will become is more blood on our hands."

"The blood of two more will not change our fate!" Maedhros snapped. He stood, and turned away for a moment to regain his composure. "Do what you can for them."

* * *

The camp was made in the Birchwoods of Nimbrethil, near the Cape of Balar. From here they would know of the voyages of ships from the Isle of Balar or the remnants of the Havens of Sirion. Perhaps from here, should Elwing return, they would know of her coming.

Maglor spread blankets out in the shade of the trees, near to the main camp but set apart enough that all would not witness the passing of the half-elven children. Hathel tossed his bedroll next to Maglor's, and Maglor appreciated the gesture of the warrior to watch over them with him. The children barely stirred as he laid them out, close to each other, for they seemed to become distressed if not in physical contact.

As promised, Maedhros had water and food sent other, including a broth, which Maglor painstakingly squeezed from a cloth into tiny mouths. Elrond awakened, but remained unresponsive, swallowing only when Maglor stroked his throat, opening his mouth only reflexively at a soft touch to his cheek. Elros did not even open his eyes.

"They will not survive," Hathel said softly.

"No, they will not," Maglor replied. He finished feeding them, and laid down beside them. Elrond had rolled to his side, wrapping himself protectively against his brother, the action unconscious, even in sleep. Maglor stroked the child's back, his hand on bare skin that the child might feel the warmth of his touch. He began to sing, softly at first, his voice then carrying across the camp, and all who heard him stopped and listened. He mourned the fading of young life, and sang of the desire to restore it; the strains of the Noldolantë woven into the melody, for the sorrow of the kinslaying was repeated at Sirion.

Hathel watched as the power and majesty of Maglor's song seemed to impart a glow from his hand to the child. As he continued to sing, the child stirred and cuddled himself snugly between Maglor and his brother. Hathel wondered if Maglor were aware, if he sensed a quickening in the children, when he saw Maglor cover Elros's chest with his other hand.

Maglor sang into the night, the strains imparting comfort to all who listened, and when he finally slept, the children were snug against him, in skin contact with him and each other, and their spirits held steady.

Maedhros sat near the campfire, listening and watching. When Maglor finally slept, he crept near and kneeled beside them. He touched each one, feeling the strengthened feä of each of the children and the power that still emanated from his own brother. He could feel that this had drained Maglor some, tired him, and resting his own good hand on his brother's forehead he concentrated on giving what he could of himself to replenish his brother.

"Is this a healing power?" Hathel asked softly, in awe, as Maedhros stood.

"I do not know. It is the power of the minstrel, perhaps, connecting to the music of the soul," Maedhros answered before walking slowly away.

He was drawn by the song of the sea, and the light of the moon shining upon the water. Maedhros crossed the distance to the cliffs and sat himself in a cleft in the rocks, and allowed Ithil and the sea to replenish him.

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Elrond ended his story and began to sing softly, a lullaby, and in just moments both of his sons were fast asleep. Celebrían gently plucked Elladan from his side, and Elrond stood with Elrohir in his arms. They carried them to their room and laid them in their beds. Elrond stroked Elladan's back, resting his hand for a moment and closing his eyes in deep concentration. Celebrían watched as a slight glow transferred from father to son. Elrond moved to Elrohir and did the same; then taking Celebrían by the hand he led her back to their room.

They undressed in silence and slipped into the cool comfort of the sheets. Celebrían settled herself into Elrond's embrace, and laying her arms across his, she closed her eyes and concentrated deeply. Elrond felt her presence, felt her touch the fringes of his mind.

"Celebrían, meleth-nín, what are you doing?" he whispered. < my love >

"Trying to replenish you," she murmured softly.

Elrond rolled to his side, pulling her close to him. He gazed into eyes that held deep love, and then kissed her gently. "You replenish me with your love, and you give much in your mother-bond to Elladan and Elrohir. You give me much, hervess-nín, and I will not take more unless I need it." < my wife >

"You would tell me if you needed more, if I did not somehow already know?" Celebrían asked as she traced the structures of his face with a delicate fingertip.

"Yes," Elrond replied as he caught her finger in his mouth and nibbled on its tip. He held her face in his hands and kissed her.

Celebrían felt a wonderful peace settle over her at the touch of her husband and she drifted asleep secure in his arms. Elrond smiled.

* * * * *

Chapter 9: Grandparents and Elflings

Elladan watched surreptitiously as Istuion bent back over the book he was reading. As soon as he seemed engrossed in the material, Elladan let his glance shift back out the window. He cautiously slid his chair back and waited for a moment, and when Istuion did not move, he got lightly to his feet and tiptoed to the window. Nothing. A small sigh escaped him.

"Elladan, back to your seat. How many times must I remind you today to pay attention to your lessons?" Istuion chided. He watched the elfling move dejectedly back to his seat and slump into his chair. A slight pity stirred in the tutor. "Your father has promised that as soon as word is received from the guards, he will come for you himself. You do not need to keep watch."

Elladan picked up his quill and began writing, but soon his head was lying on his outstretched arm, and his writing was slanting at odd angles as a result. Istuion rose and walked to stand behind Elladan, looking over the child's shoulder at his work. He sighed and picked up the parchment. He crumpled the paper and set a new sheet before the child.

"This lesson was to work on your penmanship, Elladan. I want a whole sheet of clean strokes that can be read without having to turn the page sideways," Istuion instructed.

Tears began to slip slowly from the elfling's eyes and he had to take a deep breath to catch the sob that was trying to escape him. He picked up the quill again and began to write, this time sitting up straight and keeping his quill at the proper angle. He had completed a few lines, the tears still wetting his eyes, when a drop fell on to the still-wet ink. The ink smeared, and when small fingers tried to brush the smear away, it was spread all the way to the edge of the paper. Elladan burst into tears.

* * *

Celebrían was walking to her small study located near to the room where her sons were taught, when she heard Istuion instructing Elladan to start his work over. She slipped quietly into the small alcove at the door, and witnessed her son's frustration. She saw the tears fall and the ink smear, and then watched her little son burst into tears. She knew she shouldn't interfere, but she was as excited about today as any elfling and could not bear to see her child suffer when he was merely anticipating a much desired arrival.

She glided into the room, nodding at Istuion apologetically, before kneeling next to her son. She touched his shoulder, and he looked up with tear filled eyes.

"Nana, I messed it up again!" he sobbed. He flung his arms around her neck and buried his face into her shoulder, his own small shoulders shaking as he cried.

Celebrían bit back a smile and rose, picking him up and then seating herself in his chair. She picked up the parchment and perused it, one eye on Elladan. He quieted and looked at the paper.

"Yes, it looks like the paper became wet and the ink smeared," she agreed, smiling inside when Elladan wiped his eyes and nodded his agreement. "What do you think we should do with it?"

Elladan took the paper from her hand and looked at it carefully. "I think we should throw it away," he answered in a small voice. "It is no good anymore."

"Why were you crying over your lesson?" Celebrían asked him gently.

"I was not crying over this," Elladan corrected her. He glanced to the window and then at his mother's face. "I want to be outside with Elrohir, waiting for Daeradar and Daernaneth."

"I would wish that too. Why are you inside and Elrohir is outside?" she questioned.

Elladan hung his head. "Because Elrohir finished his lesson and I did not." He leaned against his mother again, tucking his head under her chin for a moment. Then he seemed to deepen his resolve, sat back upright, and turned to face the table. He took another sheet of parchment from the pile and placed it before himself, then dipped his quill in the ink and bent over his work.

Celebrían watched as another tear rolled down his cheek. Biting her lip to hold back her smile, she looked at Istuion. He shrugged and smiled. She took the pen from Elladan's hand.

"I think you are going to smear the ink again, with those tears." She tenderly wiped the tears away. "I think perhaps we can work out a special arrangement, just for today. You must complete this assignment, but you may do it this evening or tomorrow."

Elladan looked from his mother to his teacher in surprise. "Then I may go outside now, with Elrohir?" he asked incredulously. When his mother nodded, a huge smile lit his face and he hugged her tightly before bolting out the door.

"El, I am coming!" They heard his shout as he skidded down the hall and out the front door.

Celebrían turned and smiled at Istuion. "Thank you. He is just excited, for my parents are expected any time now. I will see that he completes his task before they next come for lessons"

Istuion blushed and melted under the smile she bestowed upon him. "My Lady," was all he could whisper.

* * *

The sun was midway through its day's journey when word first came that the party of Celeborn and Galadriel approached. Celebrían watched her sons waiting as patiently as they could, trying to occupy the time and will the minutes by faster. At one point they sat together on the swing, legs dangling, as they appeared to discuss matters of great importance. Moments later Elladan lay on his back under the swing, while Elrohir lay face down on the slatted seat. She could hear their giggles but did not understand the game. Her breath caught the next time she glanced out at them, as they carefully balanced themselves upright on the flat rail of the fence that encircled the porch and then walked carefully to the end before jumping the three feet or so to the wood flooring. The twins had just climbed up for a second go when she heard them shout. She saw the guard appear up the path from the bridge and watch as both elflings jumped off the side of the fence and into the grass. For that she leapt to her feet as well and ran from her chair in the study to the front porch. She flew down the porch stairs and turned to the side, into the grass, where she saw them both lying on the ground.

"Elladan! Elrohir!" She ran to them, noting the way they were sprawled face down on the ground, the way their small bodies shook. Kneeling quickly beside them, she touched Elrohir's shoulder. He turned his fact towards her, and she saw the tears in his eyes, the redness of his face…..and the smile? "Elrohir, are you hurt?"

A squeal came from the elfling next to him, and Elladan rolled over, giggles erupting from him. Elrohir continued to laugh as tears poured from his eyes.

"Nana," he gasped, "my side hurts from laughing so hard!"

Celebrían drew in a deep breath and sat down on the grass next to them. Elrohir crawled over to her and collapsed on her in giggles, finally resting his head in her lap. Elladan rolled across the grass, bumping into Elrohir and resting his head on his brother's legs. It took the elflings several minutes to regain their breath. Elladan sat suddenly upright.

"Nana! Daerada and Daernaneth will be here soon! The guard just arrived," he announced.

Celebrían calmly stroked Elrohir's hair. "Yes, pen-breg nín, I saw him arrive too. Were you so excited that you jumped off the fence?"

"No, Nana," Elrohir giggled. "We were fighting orcs. Sometimes you have to jump great distances to get them."

"We are going to ask Daerada to show us how to jump from trees in battle," Elladan added.

Celebrían turned and looked up at the porch rail and then back again at her sons. She shuddered slightly, and then asked, "Have you ever jumped from there before?"

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. Elladan began to answer, but Elrohir was already turning red and refusing to meet his mother's eyes. Elladan began to twist the edge of his tunic, a sure sign he was contemplating how best to answer such an inquiry.

"Yes, Nana," Elrohir finally answered.

Elladan jumped in quickly. "Nana, we have been watching the warriors train and so we know how to roll when you land so you don't get hurt. We even practiced from lower walls first," he explained.

"Has your Ada or Glorfindel or Erestor told you that you could jump from the porch rail?" Celebrían pursued her line of questioning.

"No, Nana," Elladan answered truthfully.

Celebrían noted Elrohir still squirming uncomfortably. "Have you been told any places you cannot jump from?"

"Ada said we cannot jump from the wall down by the bridge," Elrohir answered.

"And Glorfindel says we cannot jump from the rocks on the training field," Elladan chimed in.

"Erestor says we cannot jump from the stairs into the hall," Elrohir finished.

At that moment the first of the horses appeared, and all further discussions of where elflings were allowed to jump from and where they were not was forgotten. The warriors of Imladris who had met and relieved those from Mithlond turned away to the stables, until finally Celeborn and Galadriel were there, stopping their horses with imperceptible movements and then dismounting.

Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel had appeared, as well as many others of Imladris. Bags and cases were already being unloaded and carried to the rooms assigned by the Lady of Imladris.

"Adar!" Celebrían waited for Celeborn to dismount and hand his reigns to one of the stable elves, and then she was in his arms. "Did you have a good journey?" she whispered as she kissed him on each cheek.

Celeborn took the hands of his daughter in his own and kissed each one, then her forehead. "It was a fine journey, my daughter, but today is the finest day of all, for you are here."

As Celebrían turned to greet her mother, Celeborn eyed the dark haired elflings who were waiting rather impatiently behind their mother, their father having a firm hold on each small elf, gently restraining them and allowing their mother to greet her parents first. He looked down at them, unsmiling at first, but with a twinkle in his eye, glancing from one to the other. He finally held out his arms, and Elrond released the two small balls of energy.

"Daerada! Daerada!"

Celeborn caught them up, one in each arm, and was hugged tightly around his neck by each child. "I almost did not recognize the two of you," he spoke softly. "I was expecting small children, and here I have rather grown-up elflings instead."

Elladan and Elrohir beamed with pride. "Daerada, we have so much to tell you," Elrohir hugged his grandfather again.

Elrond stepped forward and clasped the part of Celeborn's arm that was not holding one of his sons. "Welcome, Celeborn. I am pleased you are here."

"We are pleased to be here, my son," Celeborn answered in his soft, yet commanding voice.

Celebrían watched her mother for a moment as she turned her horse over to the stable hand. Her mother was tall and beautiful, her very carriage so powerful, that whenever Celebrían saw her now after an absence of any length, she felt awed by her presence. Yet when her mother's eyes turned to her, she was again a daughter, a much loved daughter.

"Celebrían," Galadriel glided the last few feet to her daughter. She took Celebrían's hands in her own, and held her at arm's length, gazing upon the one she had given birth to so many years before, then drew her near, gently kissing her on each cheek and smoothing back her hair.

"Naneth, I am glad you are here," Celebrían replied, gently embracing her. "Your grandsons have been eagerly awaiting your arrival too."

Galadriel turned to Celeborn, who still held their grandsons.

"Daernaneth," Elrohir bowed his head to his grandmother, and when she reached her hand to him, he took it gently in his and kissed it as a well-bred little elf ought.

Galadriel laughed, a sound so beautiful and rare that everyone turned to look. She kissed his cheek and then turning to Elladan, who copied his brother's manners perfectly, and did the same.

Celebrían beamed as her sons behaved impeccably, and then her husband bowed before Galadriel, and taking her by the arm escorted her to the porch, where many others waited to greet them. Celebrían hooked her own arm through her father's, as he set the twins down, and followed.

Elladan and Elrohir were watching as the horses were unloaded of their packages and bags and taken away to be cared for, when they saw two small horses being led away. They were dappled gray, so small that they could walk beneath one of the large elven horses.

"Ada, look!" Their cries caught the attention of all the adults. "It's a tiny horse!"

Elrond and Celebrían turned to see what their sons were pointing at and caught sight of the ponies being led to the stables.

"Nana, did you see them?" Elrohir cried excitedly. "Daerada, where did you get the tiny horses from?"

The twins ran back to their grandparents and parents, their faces alight with excitement. It was their grandmother who spoke.

"We brought them from Mithlond," Galadriel explained. "They are beautiful, are they not?"

"Yes, Daernaneth," Elladan agreed. "May we see them later, please?"

"I think that can be arranged." Galadriel smiled, one hand on each small head.

* * *

"Naneth, where did you find the ponies?" Celebrían questioned her mother after her sons had left the table.

Galadriel smiled. "Cirdan knew of them. Men east of Mithlond raise them, and allow their children to ride them. Human children grow so fast that they are on to horses soon enough. With the small stature of the ponies, Elladan and Elrohir will also be able to take on the responsibility of caring for them. They should serve them well for a number of years."

"If their reaction to them today is any indication of what we shall see when you give the ponies to them, I think we can say it will be one of the finest gifts they have been given," Elrond added. "Thank you."

Galadriel nodded at him, her eyes speaking as much as her words. "It is the role of the Daernaneth's and Daeradar's to both spoil the grandchildren and aid the parents in raising them. There appears to be little need for the latter; therefore we shall enjoy focusing on the former."

Elrond felt Celebrían's hand slip into his under the table, and squeeze his fingers tightly. He felt her mind brush against his, and her joy she at hearing her parents express confidence in how they were raising their children. He stroked her palm with his fingertip and smiled at her in return.

* * *

"Ada, will you continue the story tonight?" Elrohir tugged on the sleeve of his father's robe.

Elrond looked down at hopeful faces and smiled. The adults had stayed at the dining table long after the meal was finished, catching up on news from Mithlond. The twins had quietly listened to all that was said, but the conversation was above their head and they finally asked to be excused. Celebrían had reminded Elladan of his penmanship lesson, and with a barely hidden scowl he had gone to his room to complete the task; Elrohir accompanied him for moral support. They had spent their evening out of sight and mind of the adults, and Elrond had been surprised by the quiet tug on his sleeve.

"Yes, Elrohir, we will continue," he answered. "Say goodnight to your mother and grandparents, then I will help you with your baths and we will continue the story."

"Good night, Nana." Elladan and Elrohir chimed at the break in conversation.

Celebrían hugged her elflings. "I will come tuck you in later," she murmured, kissing each small head.

After quick goodnights to their grandparents, Glorfindel and Erestor, Elrond led the children back to their room. He smiled as he listened to them chatter in their bath about the small horses, and found himself anticipating seeing their reactions when their grandmother informed them the ponies were for them.

"Ada, you and Elros were getting better when we left off," Elladan reminded him. "Maglor helped you by singing."

"I do remember," Elrond laughed. He helped them get into night tunics and then settled them on the bed, sitting behind them to comb out the tangles from their wet hair. "Even Maedhros was glad that we seemed to improve. . . . "

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Maedhros did not sleep that night, but sat on the cliff, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocky point. He watched the sunrise that morning, his eyes taking in the beauty of that golden light, yet in his heart he knew it to be only pale reflection of the light of the tree from which it was taken. The light of the trees that was captured in the Silmaril. The Silmaril that was again out of his reach.

He stood and stretched, then walked back to camp. Other elves were moving about, preparing for the day and many were already preparing to make this into a more permanent camp. Here they would pitch their tents and set up boundaries and assign patrols - some to guard the camp, but some also to watch the sea.

He quietly approached the spot under a small grove of trees where Maglor and the sons of Eärendil still slept, curled together for warmth and healing. Hathel was awake, leaning against a tree, knife in hand. Next to him was a small assortment of carved animals. Maedhros knelt down next to the children, gently placing his hand on the forehead of the uninjured child and then on the chest of the other. He could feel the energy of their feä, strong yet this morning.

He moved to sit next to his brother, tenderly stroking the dark hair that spread out across his shoulders. Maglor shifted to his back and stretched. His eyes focused and he blinked, surprised to see his brother sitting next to him, watching him with an unreadable expression. Fear seized him, and he quickly sat up and turned to the sleeping children. He ran his hands over them, felt their chests rising and falling with each breath, felt their feä burning strong. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"They have not faded."

"No," Maedhros answered abruptly.

Maglor eyed his brother suspiciously. "Are you pleased by this, or did you wish for them a different fate this night?"

"I do not wish for their deaths," Maedhros answered, watching his sibling with the same impassive look as he had had when Maglor first awakened. He reached out his hand, and again touched his brother's hair, rubbing the strands gently between his fingers. He pushed the lock of hair behind Maglor's ear and stood. "We will be setting up camp here. Hathel may stay and assist you with them."

Maglor watched his brother leave, a curious expression on his face. He turned to Hathel, who merely shrugged. Their attention was diverted to the children, as Elrond stretched and yawned, then sat up, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He looked around the camp, one hand on his brother's arm, finally resting his eyes on Maglor.

"Good morning, Elrond," Maglor said gently. "Are you hungry, little one?"

The child stared at him for a few moments, but did not flinch or draw away when Maglor moved closer to him and then tipped up his chin with his finger. "I think Elros might be hungry. If you were to eat, I think he would eat too."

Elrond regarded his brother for a moment, then gently shook him. Elros opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, confusion on his face. "Nana?" he asked.

Elrond shook his head, and Elros sat up, a small gasp as the remnant of his injury caused him some pain. He moved next to Elrond and looked around, finally looking at the big elf next to his brother.

"Hungry," Elros demanded.

Maglor laughed. "I am sure you are, Elros. Hathel is preparing you some breakfast. Would you like some water to drink?"

Elros nodded, so Maglor held the water skin for him and the child drank in thirstily. Once he had had his fill, he got to his feet and began to look around him. He spied the little pile of animals that Hathel had carved, as well as some blocks of wood yet untouched, and with a small cry of delight, plopped himself on the ground next to them.

Malgor watched in fascination as Elros began to play. He was clearly weak, his color still poor, but there was a spark in his eyes that had not been there before. While he was playing, Hathel brought bowls of breakfast grains, and Elros immediately sat next to this strange elf and began to eat what Hathel fed him. After a few mouthfuls, he took the spoon and began to feed himself from the bowl that Hathel still held for him.

Elrond stayed seated, his eyes on his brother, watching him play and then eat. He made not a sound, and did not respond to any queries Maglor made of him. He sipped water when Maglor held it to his lips but did not try to hold the container. When Maglor held the spoon of food to his mouth, he accepted it, but did not take the spoon or indicate he wanted more. When he decided he had had enough, he just refused to open his mouth.

Hathel heated water, and they stripped the children of the clothing they had been wearing since the day of the attack. Maglor bathed Elrond and changed him into fresh clothing from his pack. In with the clothing, he saw a picture book. He pulled it out and held it up that the children might see it.

"Elrond book," Elros said as he continued to play with the blocks that Hathel carved.

Elrond's eyes lit up at the sight of the book. He did not rise to reach it, nor say any words, but when Maglor placed it in his hands he clung to it, hugging it to his chest while rocking slowly back and forth.

Hathel had bathed Elros and changed him, setting his clothing aside to be cleaned. Elrond's clothes they added to the fire, for they were stained with the blood of the she-elf they found him with. Elrond watched without comment as his clothing burned.

Elros watched with great interest as the camp was arranged. He began to follow Hathel around, exploring the tents as they were set up and watching as trees were felled and cut into pieces that could be used to fence in the main camp. His chatter soon was recognizable all over the camp, asking what everything was and when possible, kicking over piles of wood shavings. Hathel collected good sized wood chips and began to carve them into blocks and other shapes for the toddler.

Elrond merely watched, silent and impassive. He followed his brother's every move with his eyes, and when out of sight, his ears. He became agitated once when he could neither see nor hear his brother, but made no attempt to move from the blanket.

Hathel finally brought the tired child back to his bedroll, and Elros lay down to nap with a carved horse in his hand. Elrond cuddled next to him, his hand over his brother's, and they both slept.

Maglor sat next to them, brooding.

"Why does that one not speak or move about?" Hathel finally asked.

"I know not," Maglor answered shortly. "The other was injured, yet seems more a normal child now than this one." He laid his hand on Elrond and his eyes widened slightly. He shifted his hand to Elros.

"The spirit of Elros is strong and confident; it rushes mightily and consumes the energy feeding it. The spirit of Elrond is again weakening. I feel it fading," Maglor said, distress in his voice and his face.

"Sing to him," Hathel replied.

Maglor glanced at the elf, who again shrugged. Maglor lay down, curling himself around Elrond so the child was spooned into him. He cuddled the child and began to sing in a low voice. Again, as the melody flowed, rising and falling in crescendo, all nearby felt the call of the minstrel and were soothed.

Under his hand, Elrond strengthened.

* * *

"Hathel, can you not keep that child from underfoot?" Maedhros demanded as he stepped over Elros once again as the child darted in between the tents.

"Yes, my Lord," Hathel answered hurriedly as he followed the wayward child to the back of the tents.

Maedhros sighed in exasperation as the tent flap opened and a small head peeked out at him.

"Elros, come here," he commanded.

The small figure darted back inside the tent.

Maedhros stalked over to the tent of his brother and found him sitting with his harp in hand, Elrond in his lap, his hands guiding the child's over the strings.

"Maglor! Can you not control.." he began.

"Maedhros," Maglor stopped him. He motioned to Elrond. "He is only now becoming less afraid of you. Do not raise your voice."

"Please get the other one away from my tent. He is underfoot."

Elrond slipped from Maglor's lap and walked past Maedhros to the tents. Maedhros raised an eyebrow at the child but followed him nonetheless. Elrond slipped into Maedhros' tent, and found his brother playing with Maedhros' sheathed sword.

"Elros, come," Elrond whispered, taking Elros by the hand.

Elros laughed as he put the sword down but took the proffered hand and followed his twin. They walked past Maedhros, who glared at Elros. The child laughed again.

Maglor too had followed the child, and he grinned at his brother. "He is not afraid of you."

Maedhros turned his glare on to his own brother. "He will be soon, if you do not control him."

"I have told you: camp is no place for children," Maglor replied. "We have been here for weeks - why do we not take them back to Himring?"

"I have told you: I need them close. If Elwing or Eärendil do return, they do me no good in Himring," Maedhros explained, frustration in his voice.

Having exchanged their now familiar arguments, Maglor returned to his tent. He found Elrond sitting in front of the flap, piling the blocks into towers. He finished and moved back just as Elros ran from the trees and demolished the blocks by sliding into the structure feet first. He gained his feet while giggling and then raced back to the trees, where he waited for Elrond again to build him a tower to destroy.

Elros slept as hard as he played, and when night fell he was easy to bundle into his bed for sleep. Maglor would take out his harp and play while he sang, and Elrond would finally drift into sleep cuddled up to his brother as he listened to the song.

Thus the months passed, until the day Maedhros called for Maglor.

"A messenger has arrived form Balar," he said calmly. "They seek the sons of Eärendil."

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

"Who came to rescue you, Ada?" Elladan sat up in surprise.

"I did," a voice answered from the doorway.

Elladan and Elrohir turned in surprise at the sound of their grandfather's voice.

"Daerada?" Elrohir asked. "You came to rescue Ada?"

"We sent word to the camp, seeking the fate of your father and Elros. We did not know if they yet lived and yet feared attacking the camp, for we did not know if Maedhros would hurt them, if they were indeed alive," Celeborn explained. He entered the room, and sat on the bed as Elladan and Elrohir crawled over to him.

"The king of the Noldor elves, Gil-Galad, and Cirdan the Shipwright of Balar, along with those of us who survived the sack of Sirion, had been searching for your father and uncle since we learned from Lady Liriel that they were taken by the sons of Fëanor."

"Why did you wait so long? It had been months," Elladan asked.

Celeborn sighed, his face impassive. "Many were dead and injured, and those who lived had to be moved to the Isle of Balar, where they could be protected and healed. Lady Liriel nearly died, and it took some days for her story to be told. As soon as the tale was told, scouts were sent as far north as Himring seeking word of their fate. Maedhros had not gone where we expected him to go - he had gone east and set up camp, instead of north to his home. Cirdan's mariners spotted guards on the cape, and that is what eventually led us there," he explained.

"Your grandfather was gravely injured at Sirion," Elrond interrupted, "as were many others. Elros and I were only two of many in need. They came as soon as they could."

"Your father and uncle were the grandsons of my niece, Nimloth. I would not abandon them by choice," Celeborn answered gravely.

Elrond glanced up sharply at these words. He had never considered before what Celeborn might have felt upon learning that children of his own kin, whose mother he had helped escape from Doriath at a similar age, were taken by the sons of Fëanor. Looking upon the one he mostly thought of now as his father-in-law, he instead saw his own blood kin and the pain that losing them had caused him.

Elrohir snuggled up to his grandfather. "Daerada, will you tell us part of the story? Will you tell us about coming to rescue Ada?"

Celeborn smiled tenderly at the elfling in his arms. "I shall, if you so wish, but not this night."

"Come, it is bedtime," Elrond stood and pulled the covers back. He settled Elladan into his bed, while Celeborn did the same with Elrohir.

"Good night, Ada; good night, Daerada," sleepy voices chimed together.

Celeborn moved to the door but stood and watched as Elrond spent a few moments with each child, stroking their backs and heads as he whispered to them, until both were asleep.

Elrond shut the door behind him, and walked with his father-in-law and great -great uncle back to join their wives. Celeborn slipped an arm about Elrond's shoulders and squeezed gently. If anyone had looked into his eyes at that moment, they would have seen the flash of paternal pride that shone there.

* * * * *

pen-breg nín ----------------my wild ones
Daeradar/Daerada---------grandfather/grandpa
Daernaneth/daernana -----grandmother/grandma
Adar/ada---------------------father/dad
Naneth/nana----------------Mother/mom

Author's Notes: All ideas about the binding of the spirits, between spouses, and parents and children is based on Tolkien's writings in Morgoth's Ring (HoME v.10). The healing touch idea flows from that and is based on both what I have read in HoME and fanon.

For Celeborn's history, I am using the scenario where he is a nephew of Thingol and uncle to Nimloth. The Silmarillion does not state which elves escaped Doriath with Elwing and the Silmaril, or whether Celeborn was in Sirion when it was sacked, nor does it tell if any kind of search was done for Elros and Elrond, how long they stayed in Maglor's care or what role other elves might have played in their early life.

Chapters 10 - 13

 

Chapters 4 - 6