Round Robin
Chapter 25
by Meril

Beta: Iridia...major thanks to Iridia...she's a life saver when it comes to beta-ing. She makes sure my fragments of thoughts actually make sense to others and made sure I said what I really wanted to say.

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Elrond knelt beside his sons and the Mirkwood prince. Their injuries were grievous, though even "grievous" felt like an understatement. He checked their vital signs and examined them for evidence of internal injuries and bleeding. Legolas appeared to be in the worst condition; it could only have been the prince's will to protect his friends that had permitted him to keep on living this long.

Worried about the effects of Moririme's mind control on Elrohir, he moved to the younger twin. Carefully Elrond lifted the closed eyelids and peered into the grey eyes. The fiendish spell had been broken--hopefully sometime before Moririme's death--but the elf lord could still see an evil miasma on the whites of the young elf's eyes; the curse would linger on, if only in the form of memories. The emotional and mental injuries the young elf had sustained would take longer to heal than the physical ones. If he did not let the others help him, the idea that he had been forced to turn against his brothers and ordered to kill them could very well eat at his soul and bring him to the point of destruction.

Elrond felt a wave of relief overcome him as he examined the other two. Thankfully, while painful and somewhat debilitating, Aragorn and Elladan's injuries were not as life-threatening as the others'.

With his evaluation finished, Elrond began to carefully unwind the chain which bound his sons and their friend. The hairs rose on the nape of his neck as he thought of the treacherous captain who had caused the last bout of injuries. Even though Elrond knew he had knocked the man unconscious and the head wound was bleeding freely, Elrond did not trust the man to stay down. Too many unexplainable events had occurred recently for him to expect what *should* happen to actually happen. Taking the chain, Elrond securely wrapped the captain so he could not escape. Then he searched the man for weapons and removed a small smelly knife used for gutting fish, a ring of keys, and the man's thick, salt-encrusted boots. While they did not immediately appear to cause any harm, Elrond thought it would be better if he took these precautions.

Finally free to tend to his sons, Elrond turned from the man. The four unconscious forms lay still and pale on the deck. Yet his concern increased as he looked up and beyond them--the ship was drifting towards the shoreline. Angband was not a good place for a ship to run aground. Besides, he had hoped that the ship's relative speed (faster than walking, at least) and smooth travel could quickly bring them to a haven where they could heal safely.

He was glancing around the deck in search of anything that might be helpful when he spotted an old bucket near the cabin. With some effort, Elrond fetched the bucket, attached the chain he had used to knock out the captain, and dropped the bucket over the side of the boat, bringing up a bucketful of salty water. It was not the best, but it would have to do. Elrond dipped his hands into the liquid and captured a handful of the water in his cupped hands. Carefully he began to wash Elladan's face with it. Elladan woke with a stifled cry as the salt entered his open wounds.

"I'm sorry, ion nin," Elrond spoke softly as Elladan blinked at the pale light above. "How are you feeling?"

"Ada!" A weak smile formed on his weary and injured face. Despite being grown, Elladan felt like a little boy, safe now that his father was here. He attempted to sit up, propping himself up on his left arm; but the movement caused a wave of pain and nausea. He raised his right hand stiffly to feel the back of his head. "Ow."

"I'm afraid you were knocked out by that man over there." Elrond pointed to the bound man. Elladan glanced over and groaned, he recognized the traitorous captain. "Can you stand? I need you to pilot the ship if you can."

With a nod, Elladan struggled to his feet. Shakily he managed to find his way to the sails and began to trim them. "Where are we headed?"

"Anywhere safe," Elrond mumbled. He shifted his attention to his adopted son, hoping to wake him. Elladan would need help with the boat and the others were too injured to help.

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A lone horsewoman rode her mount at a quick pace. The mare, sensing her mistress' need for haste, pushed on though she was weary. The elven maiden had left the Golden Woods only a few days before in search of her brothers, father, and beloved. Arwen had been troubled by foreboding dreams concerning her remaining family. Long ago, she had sworn she would not let any more of her family die if she could in any way prevent it--and she would keep that promise.

She had not needed the Golden Lady's mirror to tell her of the danger her loved ones were in. The notes of their lives as they touched her heart sounded the sour chords of danger. She had filled a satchel with bandages and healing herbs, and, leaving the sanctuary of Lothlorien without giving notice to anyone, she had set out to aid her family in any way she could. As she left, only the March Warden and his brothers saw her, but they did not try and stop her; for that, she was grateful. How could she explain this unnerving feeling to anyone?

Arwen broke from her reprieve at the sight of carrion birds--aptly, the only life in these forsaken and barren lands--circling approximately fifty meters to her left. She feared that, at the center of their focus, might be the swift and sad end to her journey. Morbidly curious, Arwen urged her bay mare towards the body. The mare shied and refused to move closer. Ignoring the horse's alarm, Arwen dismounted and led the nervous animal.

As she reached the body and did not recognize it, relief flooded over her. Checking her emotions, Arwen examined the corpse--a female elf with long sable hair and rich black clothing. The corpse appeared to have been killed recently--the fresh blood still vibrantly stained the naked dry ground, a moist mix of bloody mud--but the body appeared to be long dead. The skin had shrunken to the bones, which were withering to dust. The smell of rotting flesh filled the stagnant air. Despite the decay, Arwen could tell the body had once possessed a sinister voluptuous beauty, though marred by a depravity reaching beyond the soul. She shivered as she felt the lingering presence of a dying evil that emanated from the remains. This whore of Morgoth could do no more harm.

Arwen had lingered long enough; this corpse was only a clue. Arwen had seen her before--in the dreams which haunted her every step. She had seen the woman fight Elrond, possess her brother, and curse "the Peredhil and his spawn". Arwen knew she was near her goal.

Walking to the edge of the low cliff on which she now stood, she gazed down on the narrow inlet. There, a small stream fed into the estuary, mixing salty seawater with the fresh streamwater. In the estuary was a small fishing boat. It staggered and swerved like a drunken man unable to control his movements; but the familiar presence of family radiated from it.

True, their essence was weak and fading; but they still lived!

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Aragorn looped the rope around his good arm, attempting to make the sail taut. His bad arm sent spasms of pain through his body. The crudely set shoulder, aggravated by the constant fighting, caused that arm to be of little to no use. A breeze caught the sail; it buckled and jerked the rope, which was not yet tied down. Aragorn cried out in pain and attempted to release his arm from the entangling mess of ropes.

As he looked up in frustration, Aragorn glimpsed a figure standing on the shore where Elrond had so recently been fighting. He could not make out any more details. Concerned that this figure might want to cause trouble, but not wanting to alert Elrond yet, Aragorn made his way to Elladan at the rudder.

"'Dan, look up at the cliff and tell me what you see."

Elladan looked up to the cliff at which Aragorn was pointing. A lone cloaked figure stood beside an unbridled and unsaddled horse. An errant breeze caught the hood, tossing it back to reveal long, dark hair, pointed ears... and a familiar face.

"Arwen!" he exclaimed. Without another word, both elf and man worked with renewed vigour to reach the shore.

By the time they had brought the boat as close to the shore as they could manage, Arwen was waiting for them. Unable to bring the horse aboard the ship, she had sent her away. If the mare remained unharmed, she would find her way home. Then she waded out into the water, swimming the rest of the way to the boat, careful to keep her satchel dry. Aragorn dangled a rope over the side of the boat for Arwen to climb. He winced as pain shot through his arms; even Arwen's lithe frame was too much for him. Expertly, he hid the pain before Arwen reached the deck. She greeted him with a hug. "I'm so glad to see you," he murmured.

"And I you." She smiled at him, and he felt warm for the first time since entering these forsaken lands. Once her embrace was finished, Arwen turned to Elladan and hugged him. "How are you, 'Dan?" she inquired.

He shrugged. "Better than the rest, I guess."

She raised a very Elrond-like eyebrow. "And how *is* 'Ro?"

This time he grimaced. "Not good. Ada's taking care of him."

She gave him another hug. Arwen knew her brother shared an empathic bond, and when one was injured or in pain, the other felt it just as keenly. Elladan was the only one of the twins conscious; as a result, he felt all his own wounds--and his brother's as well. "Come on, take me to Ada." Arwen placed a hand on her brother's arm and let him lead her to the part of the ship where Elrond tended his severely wounded patients.

Upon seeing her father, Arwen gasped. His face was ashen and his breathing shallow; yet he seemed oblivious to this. He sat beside Elrohir, appearing to feel the pulse at his wrist. "Ada," she admonished. Elrond smiled faintly at his daughter. "Thank Illuavatar you are here. These two..."

As he spoke, Elrond stood to greet his daughter; but once on his feet, he only stayed there because Elladan rushed forward to catch him.

"'Dan, set Ada over there." Arwen pointed to a spot beside Elrohir. Going to her father, she opened her satchel and pulled out cordials, healing herbs, and bandages. "I’m fine, daughter. See to your--"

"No, Ada; you're *not* fine. Haven’t you always told us a healer needs to care for himself in order to care for others? Now be still." Arwen tenderly unwrapped the bandage around his ankle. It was swollen and turning myriad shades of blue and purple; but as she felt along the bone, Arwen only felt a sprained joint and a hairline fracture, which, while painful, would heal quickly and cleanly. There were also some superficial burns on the same leg; they would probably heal with no trouble.

Only then did she notice the blood-soaked, makeshift bandage around Elrond's arm. She carefully removed the bandage and gasped as she saw a deep, ragged wound, still bleeding freely, its edges encrusted with dirt. The skin around the wound looked inflamed—no wonder, given the foreign matter imbedded in it. "How long have you ignored this, Ada?" she demanded.

He groaned an inaudible answer; his head dropped to the deck.

"That’s what I thought." Taking a bandage from her satchel, she laid it over the wound, attempting to slow the bleeding. "Elladan, hurry; get me some water."

TBC...