Again many thanks to my beta reader, Cathy! *cheers*

Chapter Eight

Glorfindel walked into Elrohir’s chamber and smiled slightly at the scene in front of him. Elladan slept in a chair, his head slumped back and his arm still bound to his chest. Aragorn also slept in a chair, on the opposite side of the bed, although his upper body was bent forward onto his brother’s bed, his head close to Elrohir’s.

‘He will have quite the backache when he wakes up,’ the blond elf thought to himself as his eyes drifted to Legolas, who slept on the couch at the foot of the bed. Glorfindel sighed, but was still smiling as it occurred to him that all three knew they had comfortable beds waiting for them just down the hall.

With that thought, Glorfindel approached Elladan, whose eyes were nearly entirely shut, and gently shook him awake, mindful of the younger elf’s injuries from the fight the previous night. As he returned to consciousness, Elladan winced at the pain from his wounds.

Glorfindel winced as well, in sympathy. “Go to bed,” he instructed gently. “You will heal better with proper rest.”

“I am rested enough,” the dark-haired elf grimaced as he pulled himself slowly into an upright position.

Knowing better than to argue with Elladan, Glorfindel turned to Elrohir. “How many times did you change his bandage last night?” the blond elf asked the older twin as he inspected Elrohir’s current bandage.

“None,” Elladan replied. “Why, did he bleed through that one?”

“No, he did not,” Glorfindel said, relief flooding him. “It would appear the wound has finally stopped bleeding.”

“And his fever?”

The small smile on Glorfindel’s face returned to a frown as he checked Elrohir’s fever. “It has not gone down,” he replied with a sigh. The older elf moved to the other side of the bed to wake Aragorn as Elladan pulled himself to his feet.

Again, Elladan winced and he put one hand to the wall to take his weight off his injured leg.

“That is it, to bed now,” Glorfindel demanded as he came back over to the younger elf, entirely unphazed by the glare he was receiving from the twin. “Do not make me carry you like a small child, Elladan. You are in no condition to fight with me.”

Begrudgingly, the dark-haired elf allowed Glorfindel to help him to his room, where the older elf fixed him a cup of tea while Elladan changed. Once again, Glorfindel had to threaten him to get Elladan to drink the tea but soon enough the younger elf was settled in his bed in a light healing sleep.

****

Elrond slowly made his way down the dark cellar, holding a lantern in front of him to provide light. His eyes settled on Celedur, who sat in a chair in ropes, feigning sleep. The elf-lord was not fooled for a second; he knew the younger elf was awake and aware of his surroundings.

Coming to a halt, Elrond regarded the elf in front of him, recalling him in his younger years. He had been Elladan and Elrohir’s best friend. Elrond remembered liking Celedur very much then. He had always been ambitious when it came to his fighting skills, more so than even Elladan. Up until Orodun’s death, the elf-lord had never thought anything wrong with that. It was only after Celedur had attacked Elladan with his daggers in the middle of the night that the twins stepped up their training until their fighting skills matched Celedur’s.

Elrond was glad to have encouraged them, but never more so than he was now. Elladan had always been good with a sword, better than most, but had he engaged in a duel with Celedur five hundred years ago, the twin would have lost. In fact it was Elrohir’s skills with his daggers that had saved Elladan that night all those centuries ago.

The elf-lord remembered looking down at Celedur in this same place then; how he had been overcome with pity and compassion for Celedur even after spending hours to heal his oldest son.

Celedur was almost swallowed by grief then over his brother and Elrond had held the opinion that Celedur probably did not realize what he was doing when he attacked Elladan. However, this time was a different matter. Celedur had chosen to let rage overcome him instead of grief, and Celedur had known exactly what he was doing when he shot Elrohir. An attack on Elrond or one of his children was punishable by death, as was entering an elvish realm during exile, and Elrond would not have mercy a second time around.

“I know you are awake; you do not have to pretend,” the elf-lord announced with a sigh.

Celedur’s eyes became focused as he lifted his gaze to the other elf. “How are your sons?” he asked with a smirk. “I do hope you have not come to me with news of Elrohir’s death. How the entire land would grieve.”

“Do not think you can bait me,” the older elf replied calmly, inwardly seething. “You were banished from all elvish realms under the punishment of death; you will not escape this fate twice.”

The smile faded from Celedur’s face, but he did not look surprised or upset. “Good then. I will finally be reunited with my brother.”

****

Elladan slept through the day and did not awake until the sun had set. As he pulled himself out of bed, he found his injuries troubled him less. Quickly Elladan changed clothes and hurried down to his twin’s room, for he had felt a change with his brother, but could not discern if it was for the better or worse.

As he entered Elrohir’s room, the older twin saw his father, human brother, Legolas, Arwen and Glorfindel all huddled around the bed in nervous silence. From between Elrond’s and Aragorn’s forms he could see Elrohir’s arm draped on his side, and his chest, which did not appear to be rising and falling.

Elladan felt the color drain from his face and the air empty from his lungs. He had always thought that if Elrohir died he would be able to feel it—he would know right away even if he was not there. He had always been able to tell when Elrohir was gravely hurt or deeply distressed, due to their connection. Surely if his twin was gone and their connection severed, he would know…

“Ada?” he managed to croak, his voice shaking. The five around the bed turned at once to him and then Elrond stepped forward.

“We are just trying to lower his fever,” the older elf assured his son, placing his hands on Elladan’s shoulders.

Elladan sighed heavily with relief, still feeling shaky.

“Actually it has gone down a little bit,” Elrond continued. “We were hoping he would wake up soon.”

Elladan nodded and stepped past his father, taking a seat next to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Elrond asked, stepping next to his son. “Are your injuries healing well?”

“Yes, I am fine,” Elladan replied, shaking his father off. “Do you really think he will wake up soon?”

“We hope so, but his fever is still too high. It needs to be broken.”

Again Elladan nodded, remaining silent this time. He was so focused on his twin that he did not notice that Arwen, Aragorn, Glorfindel, and Legolas had left until Elrond spoke again.

“Can we talk ion nin?” the elf-lord caught his eldest’s attention. Elladan looked at him and then around the room, surprised that the others had left.

Elrond sighed. “My son, I am so sorry I had any doubts about you shooting Elrohir.”

“Forget about it,” Elladan replied in a low, cold voice, turning back to his twin.

“I cannot. I feel terribly about it. I should have known better,” Elrond sighed.

“Yes you should have.” Elladan was unable to hide the hurt in his voice and Elrond’s heart twisted inside of him.

“I only hope you will be able to forgive me.”

Elladan turned angry eyes on his father. “I do not understand how you, above anyone else, could think that of me.”

“I was not thinking clearly, I remembered Aragorn handing me your arrow--,”

“And how upset I was with Elrohir? That does not mean it was me. Did you even try to think of another explanation?”

“Of course I did!” Elrond cried. “You did not hear me accusing you, did you? Let me ask you something. If circumstances were different, and it was Estel’s arrow that had hit Elrohir and not yours, what would you think?”

There was a pause. “I do not know,” the twin admitted finally.

“I think you would have been hard pressed to have had no doubts,” the elf-lord told his son gently. “I have apologized from the bottom of my heart, ion nin, I have admitted that I should have known better. If there is anything I can do to make this up—,”

“There is nothing,” Elladan cut his father off. Again silence filled the room.

“Very well,” Elrond spoke finally. “Just know my apologies are sincere. You will never know how deeply my remorse runs. I believe Estel wants to speak with you.”

Elladan did not watch his father leave the room; he kept his eyes to the floor until he heard the door close. Then he lifted his gaze to his unconscious twin and sighed. No doubt Aragorn wanted to apologize, but the elf was already sick of hearing it.

Deciding he could not put it off much longer, the elf promised his twin to return shortly and headed for the door. Just as he opened it and was about to step out of the room, a weak voice from behind him called out to him.

“Elladan?”

TBC

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