Halbarad paused in the doorway. Before him was his captain, his kinsman, hunched over on his knees, head bowed to the floor, the Palantir scant inches from his crumpled form. The ranger found he could not move, as if some terror had locked his limbs into immobility. He wanted to cry out, to recall his lord to himself, but honed instinct stilled the impulse and he kept silent. Instead he backed away, seeking both the sanctuary of the dark corridors without and the power of the Elven brethren who had travelled with him. The sons of Elrond would know how to handle this better than he, and instinctively he sought their counsel, reining in his desire to offer comfort to the slumped figure before him.

But before he had even time to reach them they came running towards him, alerted to the disturbance of the peace of the night.  Seeing him they slowed their pace to a swift walk, beckoning him to them, grey eyes seeking answers he did not have.  Worried and careworn he could only shake his head, gesturing them past him to their brother. One - Elladan he thought for he could not see them clearly in the heavy twilight -  caught a hold of his arm, spinning him around.

‘What has he done?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘What ails our brother?’

‘I do not know, lord,’ Halbarad answered honestly. ‘But I fear . . .’ He trailed off unhappily as they reached the open doorway.  Both twins came to an abrupt halt, unwilling to cross the threshold that had so recently played host to such evil. As Elves they could sense the power of Sauron though it had departed, and neither could enter without first steeling their nerves for the contact. Not even the sight of their stricken kin could prompt them to move before they were ready, and more than that they were assailed by the fear that perhaps the struggle that had taken place had not ended in victory.

Aragorn remained motionless.  Not even the sound of their voices raised in inquiry moved him to raise his head, lost as he was in his internal struggle.

At last Elrohir took a step into the room, his twin close on his heels. But the presence of darkness was heavy on them, a cloak of evil that clouded their thoughts, and they could go no further.  For they could not tell whether their brothers was theirs any longer, or had been turned to the cause of the Great Enemy. No cowards were they but a dread was upon them and they felt both anger and fear, though they knew not where it was directed.  At Aragorn for endangering himself, at themselves for their helplessness, or at the one whose evil had haunted their kind for so long. So they waited for a sign that would show them which path to tread.

An age they stood there.  Time seemed to slow as their breath frosted in the cool air and still there was no movement. Then, finally, Aragorn turned towards them, and the agony in his gaze jolted them from their silence.

‘Estel,’ Elladan breathed, rushing to him and gathering his brother in his arms. ‘What has happened here?’ Then his eyes fell upon the stone that he had not yet seen and in that moment he came to full understanding of how the confrontation had taken place. He tensed, suddenly afraid, but loyalty would not allow him to loosen his hold.

‘He is gone,’ Aragorn murmured, understanding the Elf’s concern. ‘I have sent him away and he cannot return here again. You need not fear me.’

Elladan forced himself to relax. ‘I would never fear you,’ he answered gently, drawing back so he could look into his brother’s eyes. ‘But I will always worry for you. Why? Why would you risk this?’

‘For time,’ Aragorn answered bluntly, ‘for Frodo.’

Elrohir shook his head sadly, kneeling beside them. ‘The ringbearer is beyond your aid now, Estel. You can do no more for him.’

‘I must try!’ The words were spoken with such frustrated passion that both Elves drew back. ‘I failed him. When Gandalf fell he needed me, and I could do nothing. At Amon Hen he needed me and I was too far away.’

‘You failed no one,’ Elladan corrected him. ‘And even if you were with him now, there is little you could do. This burden is his alone and so it has always been.’

Aragorn sighed, pulling away, eyes straying to the darkened stone. He felt the Elves shudder as they followed his gaze and sensed again, for an instant, the echo of the evil that so disturbed them. ‘You are right,’ he admitted softly. ‘Frodo made his decision, and he chose well to leave the Fellowship when he did. Maybe that is why I feel I must still try to give him what aid I can; because in the end he left to protect us, because he knew that one by one we would fall to the Ring.’

‘Do not dwell on what might have been,’ Elrohir advised. ‘Only on what is, for that is all that is within your power to affect.’

His foster brother smiled. ‘Yet again you are right.’ He stared at the floor for a long moment, and his face was furrowed in deep concentration. When he spoke again his voice carried renewed determination, and as he looked up the Elves caught its shimmer in his eyes. ‘This risk I took, perhaps foolishly, yet maybe it has not all been in vain. Some small part of his plans he has revealed to me, in his anger and fear. I must go to Gondor and I must go swiftly.’

Elrohir raised his head sharply. ‘What have you seen?’

‘Great darkness, from the south. An army, such an army. They need me.’

‘What will you do?’

He smiled bitterly then, his gaze far away. ‘As your has father bid me. I must take the Paths of the Dead.’

* * *

They pressed him to sleep, and he was so weary that he submitted gratefully to their care, though he feared the darkness his dreams would bring. But he knew they would be there, watching over him, and that they would allow no harm to come to him.  As his eyes slid closed, craving the comfort of sleep, the image that remained engraven in his mind was the sight of his brothers and his kinsman, watching him with deep concern.

Gently Elladan’s fingers traced the lines of glittering embroidery on the banner Arwen had woven that now pillowed their brother’s head.  ‘She reaches out to him,’ he whispered. ‘Arwen will guard his rest this night.’

‘As we will,’ Elrohir answered softly. ‘Though I fear his dreams will be evil, and open always now to the threat we all face.’

Quietly as he spoke, Halbarad heard him, and looked up in concern. ‘Sauron can reach him still? Though he has defeated him?’

‘Defeated him?’ Elladan shook his head. ‘He is not defeated, not yet. The winning of one battle does not end a war, and this war Estel has been fighting since he came into the world.’

The ranger sighed, leaning wearily against the stone wall, regarding the Elves before him with keen eyes as they watched their brother sleep.

‘This way you would have him take, these Paths of the Dead, what surety can you give me that you do not send my lord to his death?’

‘We would send him nowhere,’ Elladan correctly quickly. ‘His choice is his own.’

‘Yet it is the counsel of Lord Elrond, is it not?’

Elrohir nodded. ‘That is so, but more than that it is part of an ancient prophecy from the days before Arnor was lost to your people. And it was Isildur himself who laid the bond upon the folk of the mountains when they had failed in their oath.  Who else but Isildur’s Heir should recall the dead to their forgotten duty? But it will be a dark road, and perilous.’

‘As it has always been,’ Halbarad muttered darkly. ‘The roads of the Dunedain have ever been dark and perilous. It has been too long since we have walked in places of beauty and peace with no need to fear. Will it never end?’ he asked abruptly, an undercurrent of anger in his words. ‘Is there any hope for us?’

‘There is always hope,’ Elrohir insisted fiercely. ‘The strength of your race can no longer be in doubt. Do not despair now, when the end is in sight, be it what it may. You must not give up hope of victory, or it will remain ever outside your grasp.’

‘Victory?’ Halbarad laughed bitterly. ‘I see no sign of this victory you speak of, nor of strength. I see only my lord, wearied by toil and sorrow as I have rarely seen him. Where then is the hope for those who must remain to face the outcome, be it victory or defeat? You at least can leave these shores if the might of Mordor prevails at the last!’

Elladan held his gaze levelly, allowing none of his pain to show at these stinging words. He had known Halbarad many years, and countless of his kin before him, and knew the ranger spoke now from his own frustration, and his accusation was not heart-felt. ‘Do not think,’ he answered at length, ‘that the way to sea would stay open for long if Sauron is triumphant. His hatred for the Elves surpasses even that for the race of Men for long have we opposed him and his memory runs deep. If we lose this war the consequences for my people will be as grievous as for yours, perhaps more so.’

Halbarad lowered his eyes, unable to hold that clear gaze in his shame. ‘Forgive my hasty words, my lord,’ he murmured. ‘I spoke without thinking.’

Elrohir smiled. ‘There is nothing to forgive, my friend. We all feel as you do, my brother and I not least. Middle Earth is the only home we have known and the West is but a distant dream for us and so many of our kindred. Few still dwell here who remember the Elder Days and the light of Valinor. We would not see this land fall into darkness anymore than you.’

‘Yet many leave.’

‘They do,’ Elladan agreed, ‘and that is their choice. It is not ours, not yet.’

‘But one day. . .’ Halbarad broke off, looking at the still figure of his captain. ‘He will miss you greatly. What comfort can any man offer him when that day comes?’

‘No man perhaps,’ Elrohir smiled. ‘But if this war has the outcome we all hope for he will have Arwen. Long ago we gave up hope of Estel noticing anything else when our sister is near. Whatever grief he feels in the wake of our departure she will cure him of in time. And do not forget his love for his people, though as yet they know him not. If Aragorn becomes king, he will have little time for grieving.’

But Elrohir knew his words were false. Nothing would ease the pain their foster brother would feel when his Elven family departed Middle Earth at last, be it in victory or defeat. And that knowledge made his heart ache with a grief he should not have felt at the passing of something so transitory as mortal life, would not have felt but for the appearance in his life of a human child who had grown into this man he loved as fiercely as his own twin. 

The lie was in his eyes and the ranger saw it.

Halbarad opened his mouth to make a bitter retort, then his eyes caught the brief glance that passed between the Elves and he kept his silence. Elrohir’s words were not spoken to deceive him, but rather to comfort the Elf himself. For the first time he caught a glimpse of what it must he like to live on the other side of this peculiar tangle of relationships, and indeed for all the Eldar left in Middle Earth. Never before had he considered that they might look upon leaving with regret, that they might truly love that which was not immortal as they were, and the pain that love could bring. He felt humbled and ashamed, that even he who was so privileged in his association with those of the First Born he had known, had fallen unwittingly into envy of them, unable to see past the differences that set their races apart. He had looked upon their departure as flight, and Valinor its reward; angered that Men, who must now fight to save their world, would be rewarded only by death, while those who abandoned them would live in eternal bliss in a land beyond his comprehension.

Now, in the clear, open faces of the Sons of Elrond he saw plainly their grief, and realised that they shared both his love and his hatred.   Perhaps more strongly that he would ever understand.

Feeling suddenly an intruder Halbarad stirred restlessly, pushing himself from the support of the wall. Elladan turned to look at him, tearing his gaze from his brother’s face with an effort. Sensing the man’s awkwardness he was hard pressed not to smile.  It often happened, in moments of unguarded emotion on their part, that those caught between the brothers found themselves looking in from the outside. And despite their long acquaintance with the ranger, he recognised the signs of someone who was understanding this for the first time, and struggling with a revelation that did not fit neatly within his previous assumptions.

‘Go, rest,’ he urged the man. ‘We will watch over Estel, never fear. Tomorrow we will be on the march again, and who knows when you will next have the chance to sleep through the night in such safety.’

Halbarad hesitated. Though he was unwilling to leave his captain, he knew his presence was no longer required. He was not unwelcome, never that, for they were not so ungenerous with their affection, but he was not a part of this close family and he sensed that there was much they needed to work through on their own. Feelings he had not anticipated had been brought to light this night and they needed to be alone.

‘You will wake me, if . . . ?’ He stopped, as an identical smile graced both faces.

‘We will,’ Elladan assured him.

Halbarad nodded, grateful for their understanding. Then, with a final glance at this sleeping friend, he turned and left the twins to the night.

* * *

The door closed and left them alone. Long minutes passed as the Elves regarded their brother in thoughtful silence, both lost in uneasy reflection.

‘He looks so old,’ Elrohir murmured at last, raising his head to catch his brother’s eye. ‘It is as if he has already seen the shadow of his death and it lies heavily upon him now.’

‘Perhaps he has,’ Elladan agreed sadly, ‘but the shadow was always there, we just did not wish to see it.’ He sighed. ‘My heart misgives me that our parting will not long be on us now, but I would not leave before his time here is done.’

‘Nor I.’ Elrohir sighed, grey eyes studying the figure in the bed. ‘I would not leave at all if this world was not fading even before my eyes. And even then I would stay, and endure the long winter, if it were not for the emptiness that will steal the last of my joy when he must leave us at last.’

‘I think I would stay, even for that.’

Elrohir looked up sharply. ‘And when you have witnessed that which you most fear, what then will you do? The hour would be late, my brother, for us to go to the Havens. Perhaps the bliss of Valinor could heal us still, but roots grown so deep take much uprooting.  If we do not sail soon I fear we never will.’

Elladan turned his head to gaze out of the small window at the stars in the night sky. ‘That may be,’ he replied at length. ‘And would it be so wrong? The world grows grey and cold, and even if the Enemy is defeated it will not bring back the spring and summer to this land. Our people will set sail, never to return, fleeing to the Blessed Isle that to us is no more than legend. There waits our mother, and soon our father also, and without them I will never be whole again, but there are those too we would leave behind; our sister, and our brother. Without them . . .’ he shook his head, turning back to his twin. ‘It seems we are doomed to bitter partings however we choose. Better, perhaps, to pass from this world that has been our home, than live forever yearning for what can never be returned.’

Elrohir held his steady gaze with a breaking heart. ‘You would choose mortality?’

‘I would choose Middle Earth,’ his brother replied, smiling sadly. ‘But that choice has already been stolen from me.’ Then, perceiving the turmoil his words had wrought he became suddenly contrite. Reaching out he caught Elrohir’s hand, understanding the panic in his gaze. ‘I will walk no path that you do not choose also, and choose willingly. I could no more endure life or death without you by my side.’

‘You would not have to,’ Elrohir assured him, gripping his brother’s hand tight. ‘For as you choose, so will I, be it mortality or the life of our kind. I am not as strong as our father, and it is losing you that I fear above all things, even death.’

A noise from the bed shattered the moment. They turned as one, forgetting their own fears in concern for another. Aragorn moaned again, twisting on the narrow bed, his face contorted in sudden pain. And they knew that the backlash they feared had come.