Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter.

Chapter 6: Found

Elladan and Glorfindel sat back down on the ground, relief evident on both of their faces. Elladan sighed, and then gently stroked his sister’s cheek, glad Arwen was finally calm, even if her sleep was drug induced.  Turning his gaze to Glorfindel, Elladan saw the weariness in the warrior and realized he had not slept at all the night before. He stood, and spread another bedroll out next to Elrohir and Arwen.

“I will take first watch,” Elladan informed Glorfindel.  He watched as Glorfindel considered arguing, but gave in to his need for rest and lay gracefully down by the injured ones. Elladan sat back down near the fire, building it up to shine brightly in the night.

May the light be a beacon to you, Adar, he thought.  Elrohir and Arwen need you.

* * *

Elrond lay with Celebrían nestled in his arms, her body spooned against his, as she slept soundly. He pressed his lips to her hair and kissed her gently, glad that she had found rest. He had slept fitfully, his mind not allowing him any respite from the thoughts and worries for his children and the plans he was detailing for whatever they might find on the road ahead.  Their camp was quiet, with those not on watch sleeping or resting quietly. In the distance Elrond could see Erestor perched on an outcropping of rock a half dozen feet above the path.

He absently stroked Celebrían’s hair as his mind inventoried what provisions they carried with them against what resources they might need in the days ahead.  They were traveling light and fast, and already messengers were being arranged to transport messages and supplies, if needed.  You were regent to Eregion and Herald to the High King, he reminded himself. The preparations and plans for this mission could be made in your sleep, were your children not involved.  But his children were involved, and they and Celebrían were his only weaknesses.

A soft call sounded in the distance, and several guards quickly faded into the night while others extinguished the glowing embers of the few fires within their camp. Elrond sat up, disentangling Celebrían from his arms, and turned to where Erestor had been sitting. The spot was vacant. Elrond rose and moved quickly to where Erestor had been.

“Elrond,” called Erestor softly.

Elrond looked up to see Erestor standing on a high point on the rocks, and in just moments had joined him.

“There,” said Erestor, pointing to the southwest. “A fire.”

A flicker of orange could be seen perhaps twenty miles in the distance, in a clearing by a clump of trees along the river. The size and intensity of the flame did not vary much, confirming the idea that it was a controlled blaze. Elrond felt his heart leap and knew that they had located his children.  He clapped Erestor on the shoulder.

“It is them, Erestor,” he whispered.

He turned, leapt quickly down the rocks, and ran back to camp.  He had instinctively strapped on his sword before leaving the campsite, and now he grabbed his pack, slinging it over his shoulder. He felt Erestor’s restraining hand a moment later.

“You have scouts, Elrond. Let them do their job, and wait until morning.  The river is treacherous in daylight, and more so now.”

Elrond jerked his arm from his advisor’s grasp, but Erestor’s other hand quickly descended to stop him. For a moment their wills locked, and the two engaged in a silent struggle as Elrond tried to pull away and Erestor tightened his grip.

“If you go, Celebrían will follow.  Do you wish to risk her on these banks in the dark?” hissed Erestor.

Elrond started to argue, formulated words permitting Erestor to keep Celebrían safe, even thought of ordering Erestor to release him immediately.  It was the pain in his wrist that Erestor held in an iron grasp that brought him to his senses. He relaxed, knowing that Erestor was right on all counts. The ground was treacherous, he did have capable scouts whom he needed to trust to do their jobs, and he would not have Celebrían endangered. Erestor’s grip slowly lessened, and he took the pack from Elrond and placed it back on the ground. He motioned to one of the guards to indicate where they were going, and then led Elrond to the rock where he had been sitting.

“Anor will rise and the scouts will return not long after.  With the information they bring we will know what to expect and will be able to formulate a plan of rescue,” said Erestor, his words meant to soothe and comfort, for both knew that Elrond already knew these things. They sat on the rock and watched the tiny orange flame until the rising light of Anor obscured it.

* * *

Elladan was finishing his watch when Arwen stirred, restless.  Glorfindel was awake and took up a position near the fire, while Elladan moved to comfort his sister.  He lifted her carefully into his arms, pillowing her head against a rolled blanket on his arm and cuddling her against his chest. She was immediately comforted by the presence of her brother. He sang softly to her, and she awoke gradually as the pain draught wore off.

“Arwen,” Elladan spoke her name in song, humming around the word. He watched as her eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on him.  The way he held her, she could not move quickly, nor would she feel the need to. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Elladan?” she asked hesitantly, unable to see anything beyond her brother and the curtain his hair formed around him.

“I am here, and you are safe in my arms, little one,” he said and kissed her on the forehead. “You are still hurt, so do not move quickly, for that will aggravate your wounds.”

Arwen was silent for a moment, secure and content in her brother’s arms.  She again felt pain, but it did not scare or surprise her now, and she concentrated on Elladan instead of it, just as her Ada had taught her.

“Where is Elrohir?” she finally asked.

“He is sleeping,” answered Elladan truthfully. “He awoke last evening and spoke to Glorfindel. He wanted to know if you were well.”

“He is badly hurt,” stated Arwen softly.

“Yes, he is.  But he is strong and will recover.”

Elladan watched as tears formed in Arwen’s eyes, but knew these were not due to physical pain or fear. Shame and guilt could be easily read in her expression.

“Will he ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what, Arwen?” asked Elladan gently.

“He is hurt because of me,” came the tearful reply.

“Elrohir is hurt because the bridge collapsed in the flood,” answered Elladan firmly. He saw confusion in her expression. She opened her mouth to speak, stopped, and then repeated the action. Pity filled his heart.

“Arwen, how did you come to be in the wagon?”

Arwen buried her face in his tunic, and Elladan regretted his words.  He wished to relieve her of the guilt she felt, but perhaps she was not ready to speak of this now.

“We can talk about this another time,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

“I was so scared,” Arwen choked out. “I fell in the water and mud, and could not get my doll and it was the one you and Elrohir gave me and he said that you did not like little sisters who cried and so I ran back but I did not want Nana and Ada to see me cry and so I went to the barn and the wagon was there.  I crawled inside, because I wanted to see you before you left. But I fell asleep and you closed me in and when I woke I could not get out and it was hot and I was so scared!”

Elladan felt tears slipping down his own cheeks as Arwen poured out her grief. He rocked her and hummed to her until she calmed, and wisely remained silent, allowing her to decide if she wished to continue.

“I was scared, but then I decided I wanted to go with you!  So when Glorfindel checked the wagon I kept silent. He is going to be angry with me, and Nana and Ada too. I should not have done what I did.  I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway,” Arwen finished in a whisper, her face again buried in his tunic.  When Elladan did not speak, her misery heightened and another sob choked her. She pushed away from him, whimpering softly as she put pressure on her broken hand. “I am sorry, Elladan. Please forgive me!”

Elladan turned her to face him again, gently setting her splinted hand back on her chest.  He waited until she looked him in the eye, and then spoke, “Arwen, I am not angry with you. You are my sister, and I love you. We thought you might die in that river, and I am thankful you are alive. Elrohir is not angry, nor is Glorfindel. I am sure that Adar and Naneth are worried sick about you, though.”

“I miss Nana and Ada,” admitted Arwen tearfully.

“I know you do.  I miss them too,” answered Elladan. “I want nothing more than to see Adar walking up the path to us.”

A low moan caught their attention then, and Elladan realized Elrohir was also awakening.  Glorfindel was immediately at his side, gently lifting his head and speaking to him. 

“Water,” gasped Elrohir, the sound just audible to elven hearing.

Glorfindel held the water skin to his lips, dribbling drops of cool water past the parched lips and then lightly washing his face too.

“Arwen?” Elrohir asked hoarsely.

Elladan moved into sight of his twin, and turned so Elrohir could see Arwen.   Elrohir was not satisfied until he could touch her, his trembling hand stroking her hair. Gradually his hand slipped back to his side and his eyes closed, but his breathing seemed forced and his pain was obvious to all.

Glorfindel held a bitter liquid to Elrohir’s lips and was rewarded with a weak frown. Glorfindel would not be dissuaded, however, and at the simple command that issued from him, Elrohir drank the potion and drifted back into sleep.

Arwen watched Elrohir with tears streaming down her face, but when Glorfindel approached her with a dose of the painkiller, she pursed her lips.

“You will sleep and heal better if you are not in pain, Arwen.  Please, take it for me.  Take it so Elladan doesn’t have to see you in pain,” he coerced her.

“Will there be enough for Elrohir?” she questioned.

“There is plenty,” lied Glorfindel.

She believed him, and took the bitter liquid willingly, and then drank of the water Elladan held to her mouth.  When she was asleep, Elladan laid her back down next to Elrohir.

Elladan exchanged looks with Glorfindel, reading the worry evident in the older elf’s face, then lay down next to Elrohir and curled about his battered twin carefully so as not to disturb his wounds.  Elrohir is strong and he will recover, he reminded himself.  He kept watch over his brother for the rest of the night, and hoped his words would prove true.

* * *

Glorfindel allowed the fire to burn to low embers as Anor appeared in the eastern sky. Their camp was well situated, and from the clearing, Glorfindel could see far to the east. As he scanned the shore he recognized small shapes moving several miles off, and when he followed his line of sight to where the eastern end of the Last Bridge would be, he saw more figures.  His heart leapt with joy as he recognized the banner of Imladris. Elrond had come for his children.

* * *

Elrond seethed under the restraint enforced upon him by his guards and advisors. Next to him, Celebrían was tapping her hand impatiently against her thigh. Dawn had come and still the scouts had not returned, for the terrain was rough and darkness had slowed their progress. Elrond stood and, grasping Celebrían by the hand, pulled her to her feet.

“Enough of this waiting!” he said impatiently, showing a rare fit of temper. “There is little point in awaiting the scouts’ arrival. We will follow and meet them on their return path.”

Elrond felt some satisfaction in seeing his guards scramble to move ahead of him on the path, but bristled at the long-suffering sigh that issued from Erestor. He turned and glared at his advisor, but Erestor merely huffed back at him and rolled his eyes.  Without a word to Elrond, Erestor began barking orders, directing a contingent of warriors to remain at the camp to await possible messages and news of needed supplies. Then, in a surprisingly swift move, Erestor situated himself behind the lead guards but ahead of Elrond and Celebrían, and led them forward.

“I did not know Erestor could be so commanding,” whispered Celebrían.

“We all tend to forget that Erestor was a scout and warrior long before he chose lore and administration,” answered Elrond with a smile.

A slight growl ahead of them indicated Erestor had overheard their comments, and Elrond could not help but add, “And he has the finest in elven hearing.”

“I chose this path in life,” Erestor spoke as if to himself. “I blame no one but myself.”

Celebrían laughed aloud, and Elrond silently thanked Erestor, for he had again lightened her spirits by poking humor at himself. Then he turned his attention to the path and the western shore. They had gone only a few miles when a hint of gold among the trees in the far distance caught his attention.  He stopped abruptly, causing Celebrían to bump into him, and he quickly pulled her to his side and pointed to the southwest.

“Look!  Do you see the hint of gold?” he asked, excitement in his voice.

“Glorfindel!  It is Glorfindel!” cried Celebrían.  She climbed swiftly to a high rock a short distance ahead and waved her hands, knowing that her silver mane would be as easily seen as his gold. She jumped up and down, calling a shout of joy when Glorfindel waved back.

The miles seemed to fall away slowly, when in reality they covered the distance swiftly considering that the rough terrain made horseback riding nearly impossible.  The guards had taken the horses on a higher trail a mile or so east of the river, where the path was more suitable for the animals. Those on foot stayed near the river, the rushing water at times drowning out all other sound, and moved with all speed on feet made light by hope to where the missing ones awaited them. It was noon when they reached their goal.

Glorfindel stood on the bank of the river, relief on his face, and at his call Elladan appeared from a clump of trees further up the hillside.  His face lit at the sight of his parents and he called his greeting, though it was lost in the sound of rushing water. He disappeared for a moment, and when he next appeared he had a small bundle in his arms.

“Arwen!” cried Celebrían.  “Arwen!” She sank to her knees, thankfulness and joy overcoming her, and it was Erestor who knelt beside her and rejoiced with her.

Elrond’s clinical eyes were taking in the bandages and blood matted hair, as well as the slightly glazed look in his daughter’s eyes.  The smile on her face, however, and the way she held her arms out to them, answered the most important questions in his mind.  She was safe and not seriously injured. His seeking gaze moved next to the slightly hidden area in the trees, but a tarp obscured his view.  He knew Elrohir must be there, and the looks of worry, but not grief, on the faces of Elladan and Glorfindel told him his son was badly injured but alive. Garthon was unseen, but Elladan and Glorfindel had communicated adequately that he had ridden south for help. 

“Master Elrond,” Athranen was at his elbow.  “Stand to the side.”

Elrond moved aside and watched as Athranen took an arrow with a long length of rope attached to it and nocked it in his bow. He was aiming for a large tree on the western shore, and after a moment drew back the bow and loosed the arrow at the target.

It landed in the river many feet from the shore.

One of the warriors quickly pulled the rope and arrow back to them, and Athranen adjusted his stance and angle to try to compensate for the gusts of wind that blew down the river and the arc created by the added weight of the rope.  He loosed a second arrow, but it again fell short.

Much discussion ensued, and a young warrior moved to stand near Athranen. He carried a more powerful bow, longer and with a higher draw weight. He had long been the recipient of both respect and teasing over his excellence in shooting with accuracy over long distance, for he was young and had never used the bow in warfare or defense.  He spent several minutes attaching the rope to one of his arrows, and then aimed for the same tree.  The twang of the bow sounded loudly, and all watched as the arrow sailed west and imbedded itself neatly in the large tree. 

Across the river, Glorfindel’s smile nearly split his face as he tugged the arrow loose and tied the rope loosely about the tree. He stood back and watched as the young warrior nocked a second arrow, and imbedded it close to the first. Glorfindel then took the unused sleeve of the tunic he had cut down for Arwen, and tied it around the tree.  He tied the two lengths of rope together around the tree and over the smooth fabric, allowing the tree to act as a pulley. He tied another piece of short rope, left from their supplies, snugly below that to serve as a lower anchor to the pulley, to help keep the rope looped about the tree from sliding down.   When satisfied with the knots, he tugged on the rope, and waited patiently as the actions were repeated on the other side of the river.

While Arthanen finished the pulley, Elrond was busy preparing a basket they could send over immediately.  He packed bandages and strips of linen, herbs for pain killing and healing of wounds, and his small package of surgical instruments.  Last, he included pieces of parchment and quill pens, with a note stating his relief and love and asking for details of the injuries to Elrohir and Arwen.  

The basket was attached with a strong clip to the rope, and the slow process of pulling the ropes around the trees was started.  The wind caused the basket to teeter at times, but it did not open or fall and Elrond breathed a sigh of relief when the basket was finally in Glorfindel’s hands.  He could not help but think of elflings opening gifts on their begetting days when he saw Elladan and Glorfindel quickly go through the basket, but the moment of humor disappeared as quickly as it had come when Elladan grabbed a small packet and went immediately to the tarp where the injured ones lay. They are in need, thought Elrond with dismay. Glorfindel sat down with the parchment and pen, and spent several minutes writing. Elrond’s impatience grew and he paced along the muddy shore until the basket was returned to him.

He grabbed the basket, snatching the note out of the bottom.  He read it quickly, his heart falling as he considered the words before him. He raised his eyes to meet Glorfindel’s across the wide expanse of water, and much more than facts were communicated in that moment.  Glorfindel’s fine script outlined symptoms and the items they would need to treat him properly, but his gaze carried the message Elrohir needs you.

“Erestor!” barked Elrond. When Erestor appeared instantly at his side, he handed him the note from Glorfindel.  “The checked items remain back at the camp by the Last Bridge.  Send for them.  The rest I will prepare to be sent over now.”

Erestor took the parchment silently and scanned it quickly. 

“Athranen!” Elrond called for his captain next.  He drew the warrior aside, and spoke in a soft voice. “How can I get across the river using those ropes?”

Athranen blinked and opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by Elrond’s upraised hand. “I do not want to hear it is unsafe or not a good plan.  My son is in need of my aid, and I will go even if I have to swim.   If you can stabilize a second line, I will walk the rope.  If you want to tie me like the basket and winch me over, I will go as cargo.”

“Lady Celebrían also?” asked Athranen softly.

“No,” answered Elrond shortly. “I will have Erestor ensure she does not follow.”

Athranen directed the retying of the lines after the basket was sent over and returned for the last time.  The second line was set several feet above the first to allow for a handrail, while the bottom would serve as the footbridge. It was tied tight on Glorfindel’s side of the river, and then wrapped several times around the tree on Athranen’s side and anchored to trees behind them. Athranen tested the line’s safety, applying weight and force to the line while his warriors added their strength to the anchoring lines. When satisfied, he nodded to Elrond.

A third line of rope had been belted about Elrond’s waist by a tight-lipped Erestor.  None present felt the rope bridge adequate, and Erestor had even snapped at him that not even a wood elf would attempt such a crossing. Elrond had faced them grimly, his glare and body language brooking no argument, and instead of listening to them, he had pulled Erestor aside and informed him that Celebrían was not to follow, even if that meant they had to tie her up and put her on her horse for the journey to Tharbad. Celebrían had not argued with Elrond about making the attempt, nor attempted to dissuade him. But Elrond could see the gleam in her eyes that said she would go if he did not, and if he made it she would follow.

Elrond leapt nimbly to the rope where it was wrapped about the tree, and found his footing sure as he began the walk across the Hoarwell.  He held the top line loosely, allowing it to slide through his fingers as he moved forward, and found the crossing relatively smooth until he reached the middle of the current. There the winds were strongest, and he found himself buffeted by the air currents as they alternately seemed to push him to the side and downward, and then uplift him and knock him forward.  Twice he slipped and grabbed on to the top line, leaning over it as his feet sought purchase on the footrope.  Once his feet were back under him and he felt balanced, he closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on his body and its relationship to the rope and ignore the swirling water and debris below him.  When he opened his eyes, he turned his gaze to the shore ahead of him and saw his son watching him intently.  Elladan was holding the rope so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his gaze was equally intense.  Elrond concentrated on his son, and resumed his journey.  Just then another gust of wind roared down the river valley, and Elrond felt the lower line swept from beneath his feet. As he fell, he grabbed the top line and held on tight.

* * *

Glorfindel saw Elrond slip the third time, and without thought, he grabbed the lower line and began wading out into the raging current.  His mind raced with ways of bringing the elf in safely, but then suddenly he saw Elrond turn to face the opposite shore, swing his legs up on either side of the rope and cross his ankles over the line, and begin pulling himself hand over hand to where Glorfindel was waiting.   Glorfindel stayed in the water until Elrond was above him, and then made his way back to shore, climbing up the muddy bank as Elrond dropped on to the ground near the tree and gathered Elladan in his arms.

“Glorfindel, my friend,” said Elrond as he pulled him into an embrace as well.  He released him and stepped back, looking briefly at Glorfindel’s soaked trousers and boots. “Have you so little faith in me?”

Glorfindel laughed as the tension fled his body.  “I was concerned your eyes saw only your children and not your own safety,” he admitted.

Elrond replied, “I would have swum if I had to.” Then he turned abruptly and began heading up the hill to where his injured children lay.

Glorfindel looked back at those on the opposite shore to see Erestor and Celebrían facing each other near the rope lines.  He could tell from the motions the two were making that Celebrían was arguing she could go over the entire way in the manner that Elrond had used to finish the crossing, and Erestor was threatening to tie her up and carry her up to the path.  “I do not envy you, Erestor,” he murmured to himself. “I would take on another balrog before I’d argue with Celebrían.” He turned then, and followed Elrond up the path.

* * *

Elrond knelt down quickly between his injured children, both in a drugged sleep, and laid a hand on each of them as he bowed his head in thanks that they were alive.  Arwen, he could tell, slept peacefully, and he kissed her briefly before turning his attention to Elrohir. His quick mind had immediately memorized the detailed list of injuries that Glorfindel had sent, and he turned his attention first to his son’s ragged breathing.  Already Glorfindel had started the treatments he had sent over, and he could smell the eucalyptus and menthol that they hoped would help to ease Elrohir’s breathing.  They had elevated Elrohir’s upper body to ease the exchange of air, and Elrond slid an arm behind his son and gently sat him upright.

“Hold him there,” he said to Glorfindel. He sat behind his son, and began softly tapping over his lungs, avoiding the bruised areas as much as possible, and then pressed his ear to Elrohir’s chest to listen to him breathe.  He motioned for Glorfindel to ease Elrohir back to the blankets, and then removed the bandages and splinting from his lower leg. Examining it carefully, he found Glorfindel and Elladan had done a good job of aligning the bones, but he thought he could make some further minute adjustments that would aid Elrohir’s healing.

He sat back on his heels, and contemplated his injured son.  The bruises and scrapes that covered his pale skin were healing, and for this Elrond was thankful. He lightly rubbed across Elrohir’s breastbone, and then repeated the action with slightly more force when Elrohir did not respond.  The second time roused Elrohir slightly, enough to make him try to move away from the pain. His level of consciousness was appropriate to try the procedures now.

“There is fluid in his lower left lung, as you suspected,” Elrond informed Glorfindel, “and the bones of his leg are setting well, but I would like to adjust them a little more.”

Glorfindel moved without question to Elrond’s surgical supplies, and began preparing for what needed to be done.  Elrond turned his attention to Arwen then, inspecting her injuries more closely, especially her broken hand.  His critical eye immediately noted the slight deviation in the broken fingers, and he decided he would reset them as well. While the imperfection was unlikely to be noticed by anyone else, he could not bear to leave alone that which was in his power to fix.

Elladan helped Glorfindel and his father prepare for what had to be done, and while they set to work, he penned a note of instruction on his father’s behalf to be sent to those on the opposite shore.  He readjusted the ropes as Athranen motioned for him to do, and when the basket came he slipped the note inside.  By the time the note was back and read by his mother and Erestor, Elladan knew his father and Glorfindel were deep in their work. He heard Elrohir moan once, and then trembled as he felt a sharp pain in his own side, followed by a slightly louder cry of pain from his twin. He dropped to his knees and then sat back against the tree. A few moments later and he felt a deep grinding pain in his leg, and he willed all his strength to his brother. Even though Elrohir was unconscious, he felt his connection to his brother grow strong and he sensed Elrohir’s pain and confusion. Elladan was both fascinated and scared by what he was experiencing, but continued concentrating on that bond and on Elrohir, feeling growing pain within his own body even as he felt Elrohir’s pain lessen. The pain was not a part of himself, however, and he bore it without question or complaint.  He knew he would never be able to describe what was happening, but he knew without doubt that he could bear the pain without difficulty and that in doing so, Elrohir was aided.

Elladan did not know how much time had passed when he realized that Elrohir was resting peacefully, and he again heard the roar of the water, the rustle of the wind in the trees and birds singing around him.  The sun warmed him, and seemed to wrap its arms about him in a soothing embrace. He finally opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them, and looked around him.

Across the river, a small contingent of warriors remained to bring them supplies and communicate messages back to the camp or Imladris. Further south, but now on the high road some distance east, Elladan could see the silver of his mother’s hair and knew that she was in a party riding to meet them.  He turned his gaze to his father, then, and saw him holding Arwen as Glorfindel finished replacing the bandages and splints on her hand.  He rose to his feet and made his way silently to Elrohir, and lay down beside him.  He could hear the ease with which his twin now breathed, the raspiness and gasping sounds nearly gone, and tears of relief slid down his cheeks.

* * * * *