Characters: Elrond, Celebrían, Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, (Gil-galad, Erestor).
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to Tolkien and New Line Cinema. There actions alone are my responsibility - no copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made.
Summary: The significance of others. Elladan does something foolish and Elrohir forms an unusual alliance, which has rather unexpected consequences. Celebrían leaves Imladris for Lorien.

Night had fallen, a welcome relief to all in Imladris, for night cloaked their faces and made it harder to see what emotions the heart fought to conceal were manifested upon the face. Night had fallen, stealing the colour from the hills and valleys. The river and houses stood out ethereal and luminescent in the glow of the full moon. Night had fallen, yet no one took rest. Elladan lay on his back; his arms folded behind his head, staring up at the canopy of curtains that shrouded Glorfindel's bed. Glorfindel himself was sat at his desk, a candle burning beside him as he checked and crosschecked the details for the morning's patrols. The reports grew less favourable with each passing day. Their own patrols had not, despite Thranduil's complaints, been in any way at fault, but that did not mean that there were not communication difficulties. Elladan tried to roll onto his side and hissed softly in pain - their dusk search of the boundaries had resulted in a rather close encounter with a handful of Orcs and Elladan had caught the flat side of a blade hard across his ribs. It was no more than a bruise, to his good fortune, but enough to caution him to be wary, for it had been his own fault that he had even been struck.

Glorfindel glanced up, his features flickering with concern for his lover. Elladan smiled reassuringly, placating the question rising in Glorfindel's throat before it could be asked.

"Just do not," he growled. "If I were given gold for each time someone asked after my health I would be wealthier than the richest Dwarf."

"And most likely become an object of prey to them," Glorfindel chuckled. "I do not know about gold, but I think each time someone asks the question you refuse to let me ask, they should slap your wrist for your carelessness as well."

"I said, do not," Elladan groaned, rolling right over onto his stomach so that the groan of protest concealed his involuntary murmur of pain. "I know, Glorfindel, I know. I was a complete fool."

"You were showing off." Glorfindel stated, ravelling up the last sheet of parchment and securing it with a silver ring.

"I know," Elladan repeated, pulling a face. "And I got my comeuppance did I not?"

"Well, if you do not let such a thing happen again there will have been no harm done," Glorfindel admitted reluctantly.

"Please, I beg of you, spare me the lecture. Papa had quite enough to say about that earlier."

Elladan glanced down at the pillow, feeling his cheeks burn with shame. Elrond had been more than a little abrupt with him.

"For pity's sake, Elladan! Is it not enough that you remind me of the measure of mortality of our kind once already this day, without nearly adding yourself to the list of those in Mandos' Halls for whom I have to grieve?"

Glorfindel shifted to sit on the bed, placing a hand comfortingly on the youngster's back and rubbing consolingly.

"I did warn you that Elrond would likely be tetchy after this morning's incident - and he was concerned about the two of you even then when he thought that you would go out without the rest of the patrol. I hope, now, that you will not try to ride without them again?" Glorfindel added.

"No," Elladan sighed. "I shall be a good little Elf and ride with the patrol at all times and not challenge Elrohir to see if who can kill the most Orcs and..."

Glorfindel tickled him and Elladan gasped, half in laughter, half in pain. The older Elf leaned down so that his mouth was but a few inches from the pointed tip of Elladan's ear.

"Well, I am glad to hear it. If you can keep that promise I will give you a gold star," he teased.

"You and those stars," Elladan smiled, turning his head so that his lips met Glorfindel's in a soft kiss.

"I like the stars," Glorfindel argued, drawing back as small a distance as was necessary to speak.

"I bet I can make you see them - without taking you outside," Elladan grinned.

"Now that," Glorfindel said, the corners of his mouth turning up as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to Elladan's lips. "Is one wager I am happy to let you take."

Elladan's hand slid around to cup the back of his head, pulling Glorfindel down into another kiss.

* * * * * *

Elrohir, pretending to read a book, listened intently as the soft thud of something landing upon the balcony was followed by the muffled click of his doors opening. The window curtains twitched aside, a drift of chilly air sweeping in with a small scuffle of leaves and his visitor. Elrohir found the floor with his feet and, book cast aside onto his pillow, greeted the young blond, who was swiftly latching the window closed.

"Looks like my father was right all along," the Elf turned with a half smile to greet Elrohir. "Your border patrols are most inefficient."

"You got past them without trouble?" Elrohir asked worriedly, looking his lover over with a searching eye.

"Yes, easily." The youngster hesitated. "Well, perhaps not easily exactly, but I make considerably less noise than an Orc so I managed."

Elrohir swept the youngest Prince of Mirkwood into a tight embrace.

"Thank Elbereth," he murmured into the soft curtain of silvery blond hair, nuzzling Legolas' ear. "I have been waiting for you for hours."

"Getting worried?" Legolas teased.

Elrohir's face was serious as he cupped his lover's cheek.
"Yes, as a matter of fact."

Legolas' expression sobered a little.

"It is getting pretty intense out there," he admitted. "I dare not stay longer than the light of dawn this night. Our kingdom is far more exposed than Imladris and I am needed at home. Besides that," he pulled a rueful face. "If your father or mine strengthens the boundary guards but a little more we shall have no end of trouble in eluding them and it would not explain too well as to why either of us were trapped within the other's Kingdom, I think."

"You think too much," Elrohir mumbled, beginning to kiss Legolas' neck. Legolas shifted a little in his embrace.

"Make me stop," he whispered.

* * * * *

They lay together, the small stretch of mattress between them like an endless barren desert. Elrond's eyes were closed, yet he did not dream. His thoughts kept him from wandering into the worlds of repose and the strange myriad pathways that he could walk in his mind to drink of the beauty and tranquillity that was balm to his soul. Beneath the covers that lay heavy upon him, his fingers unconsciously smoothed the sheets below him as his mind travelled down the lanes of his memory. In his other hand he clutched tightly the folded scrap of paper that bore the picture drawn by Glorfindel's hand that had captured the moments by the waterfall, preceding the very first night that the Lord of Rivendell and the High King of the Noldor had spent in the same bed he now lay in - alone. Or as good as.

Elrond stirred, the quieted sounds of another's movements awakening him. The muffled creak of a bedspring, the soft fall of the covers back across his chest, the almost silent pad of feet upon the stone floor. Elrond opened his eyes sleepily to find Gil-galad buttoning up his robes and finger combing his long tresses. The King's grey eyes met his without a smile; indeed, Gil-galad was unusually inexpressive.

"I trust you will forgive me for yesterday. I was a little overwrought."

Elrond caught his breath as though Gil-galad had kicked him in the stomach. Shaken into wakefulness, he nodded curtly.
"As you wish, my Lord."

Gil-galad, who had cast been casting a troubled glance at the window as he made to leave, stopped short, his hand on the door handle. Slowly, he pivoted around.

"Elrond?"

"Yes, my lord?"

Gil-galad stepped towards him, confusion puckering his brow.
"Elrond? Have I done something to displease you?"

"No, my lord."

"Then what is this 'my lord' business? Were you so spent that you did not hear me last night, request of you to use my name."

"No indeed, my lord."

"Will you not do me that honour?" Gil-galad sounded hurt.

"As you wish, Ereinion." The last was said with such forced formality that it rang no more companionably than the previous 'my lord'.

Gil-galad stared at him, bewilderment etched across his features.

"There are few to whom I grant that," Gil-galad said softly, almost as if hearing his name spoken so coldly had pained him.

"Then the honour is mine."

"Elrond!" Gil-galad cried. "Come, we have not the time - if we are to part with some semblance of discretion - to conceal our hearts from each other. If I have offended you in some way then tell me so at once!"

"As you command," Elrond said stiffly.

Gil-galad made an agitated gesture with one hand, cutting him off. He crossed the room in short strides and sat upon the end of the bed, impatiently refastening a loose button on his robe.

"I will beg if you want me to, I fear it is far beyond my power to command you."

Elrond cocked his head, now feeling confused himself. The cool words that he had awoken to were far cry from this demeanour.

"I..." Words failed him and he stared into Gil-galad's worried eyes, trying to read the thoughts within them.

Suddenly Gil-galad chuckled.

"Did you think that I meant last night itself to be an indiscretion? Oh Elrond!" Gil-galad groaned. "No wonder you were so cold to me! Nay, I meant only my wretchedness by the river at this affair regarding Kingship. It is a title that I gladly claim and would not willingly relinquish for all its burden, however, just occasionally I cannot be so practical about it and wish to throw this band of gold into the sea! Forgive me only for that, if you will; to ask forgiveness for what passed between us - that would be an insult to us both and most unnecessary."

Elrond's lips parted and then he shook his head, chuckling at his own foolishness.
"Then there is naught at all to forgive! Forgive me, my - Ereinion..."

Gil-galad's lips closed swiftly over his.
"Naught to forgive," he assured him.

For a moment Gil-galad stared into Elrond's eyes, a slight smile on his face.
"How well that sounds," he whispered. "My Ereinion."

Elrond tugged one of his braids to pull Gil-galad's lips back onto his again.
"Then be assured that I shall say it again - where discretion permits."

"Oh Elbereth - the hour is late!" Gil-galad jumped from the bed like a guilty youngster. "I must go, if we are to make any attempt at decorum!" With an agonised glance at the window he bade Elrond farewell with another snatched kiss. "I must, must go, before we are both undone!" He flung his cloak around his shoulders and swept out of the door.

Celebrían listened to the soft whisper of fingers brushing fabric. She lay, her back to her husband, her fingers coiled tightly around the edge of the quilt, not for fear that he would steal all the covers - for it was she who was the more likely of the two to end up with them all wound about her and Elrond glowering peevishly at the cold. Celebrían sighed inwardly. The night brought little peace to her either.

She rose and, on silent feet moved to stand out on the balcony, staring out at the stars. Distantly she could hear the roaring of the water from the falls, muted by the hush of the night. Closer she heard the snap of a door shutting and caught the whisk of Elrohir's curtains across his balcony doors. She suppressed a smile. For one who vowed never to wed he was distinctly fond of the more carnal pleasures that such unions could bring. A small frown creased her brow for that thought brought in tow two less amusing ones. Firstly came the brief recollection of the unity she had shared with Elrond that night. It had not been the easiest of days for either of them, particularly not with Elladan injuring himself. She had opened her arms to him when he came in from his council with their eldest son, looking haggard and drawn. He had gladly accepted her offering, yet, though it had seemed appropriate at the time, it was, at least in part, the cause of their sudden isolation.

His mind had been too plainly elsewhere, somewhere that hurt to be, yet was evidently more distracting than all her caresses. And she, though she had seen him this way before, often, particularly when she had first shared his bed, found herself pained by the rejection. She could place no finger on what it was. He was, as he had always been, gentle, considerate of her, but instead of finding comfort in the touches, familiar to them both, he had drawn away from her instead of confiding in her. His parting kiss to her brow still burned upon her forehead, like a dismissal. She had wanted to roll over, smooth his back and try to tease out of him some of the soul searing grief that had not been eased by anything that day had brought. But somehow, she could not bring herself to - in case he would not, even could not.

Upon the heels of this thought rode another, the fear that they might both lose something else - their twins. For Elladan to take an injury, even one so minor as it was - thank good fortune and Elbereth - did not bode well. On any count. If Elladan, usually so careful, could get hurt, what of Elrohir? She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the chill that enveloped her for which the night breeze was not responsible. And Arwen too wanting to aid the patrols or take some active part in defending Imladris. It was more than could be borne.

With Elrond so distracted, what would become of him? The thought seized her heart like an iron hand. Well, she told herself pragmatically, the alliance is strong enough now to stand, even if he does loose his life. But the thought rang hollow - and mercenary. Of course you feel this way, it is natural, for our kind fear death because we can never hope to understand it - it is unnatural for an immortal. Besides, you would grieve for the death of anyone, particularly someone you care about. These thoughts refused to take root and she found herself trembling, tightening her arms around herself.

Another pair of arms snaked around her waist.

"Come back inside," Elrond's voice said gently.

"I am not cold," Celebrían stiffened in his embrace, wanting nothing more than to melt into it and hear his words of comfort. She could practically hear his smile. His chin rested atop her head and he rubbed his cheek into her mass of wavy blonde hair.

"But I am."

"Then return to bed, I would not wish to interrupt your rest." She reached up to give his cheek an affectionate caress and found herself gripping his arms, stopping him from pulling away despite her words.

"There is a draft from the door- and at this precise moment it appears that I am ensnared," Elrond observed dryly.

Celebrían released him as if she had been scalded.
"My apologies," she murmured, stepping away from him and moving to grip the balcony rail.

I love him, she thought bleakly. I love him. All these long years we have been friends and now this, at the precise moment when he is completely incapable of loving me in return, I love him. This precise moment? He will never love you! He will not allow himself to. And do you really think that he would love you anyway. His affections tend in other directions primarily and he has spent far to long in your bed to notice you as an object of lust to spring love from. Besides that, he would not wish to compromise what you have...had. Not to mention that more than likely, he will indirectly always link you to Gil-galad and even if he could recover the ability to love another, it would not be you because you are too close to what he lost. Celebrían gritted her teeth against the persistent voice that nagged in her ears.

"It does not follow that the entrapment was unwanted," Elrond sounded puzzled. "Indeed, love, we have it seems rather a reputation for enjoying such things."

There was a chuckle in his voice.

"Yes," Celebrían turned, forcing a smile. "Poor Erestor - he has never quite recovered has he?" Inside her head the voice mocked her. Love? He says it without even thinking about it, certainly not meaning it, but when it comes to it, the word is said and the letter if not the spirit of the contract is sufficient to bind you - he would not think now to put meaning behind it.

Elrond fought down his smile.

"Not quite - and it does not help that Elrohir sees fit to remind him of it at each available interval."

"Little so and so." Celebrían swallowed hard as she thought of her casual words to Elrohir earlier that day, so easy to say...not so easy to mean. In truth, Elrohir, it would be a falsification of my own feelings if I were to claim true love for your father.

Elrond noticed her gulp and stepped closer to her, cupping her cheek gently.
"He is at that - but he will be fine. They both will," he added, misinterpreting her instant of pain, but still hitting close to a fear that was raging within her.

"How can you be so certain?" she whispered. "Every day they ride with the patrols, every day they now face death. They are so young, too young for this."

"They are hardly young, my love, they are over two thousand now and have not borne the title of elf-child for many, many a year."

"You know what I mean! They should not have to face death this way."

"None of us should," Elrond said in a hard voice. "But it is a fact of this life that we shall see it. And in such times as these, it would be nearly impossible to avoid it."

"For someone who has seen so much and suffered so much because of it you offer cold comforts," Celebrían found herself snapping.

Elrond went very still.

"I am sorry," Celebrían said, tiredly. She was growing weary of her own internal battle and more so of the disguise of it from Elrond - the very one she should have been able to reveal it to. "I am just..."

"Concerned," Elrond finished. "I know. Elladan's little accident struck a little too close to home for all of us."

He put his arms around her and she laid her head against his chest, ironically able to relax into his arms as she fretted over her sons.

"It is getting worse, day by day," she said quietly into his robe front. "The numbers of Orcs are multiplying."

Elrond's chest rose as he sighed.

"I know. Believe me," he shuddered slightly at the thought.

Neither gave further voice to what this might mean.

"Elrond," Celebrían lifted her head. "I wish to go home. I desire council with my mother, as I fear if the situation escalates much more then I shall not be able to pass through the necessary lands."

Elrond frowned slightly.

"I would caution you against it, even as it now stands," he said pensively, never once asking what her business might be. It was polite, considerate and felt detached, as though she had asked Erestor or one of the other elven lords.

"I appreciate your concerns but I feel that it is needful that I speak with her," Celebrían answered steadily. Galadriel would at least be able to offer some small measure of comfort, if she had not a solution at her disposal. Elrond sighed.

"Very well. When?"

"As soon as is possible, tomorrow - or rather, come dawn for I feel that it is tomorrow already."

Elrond was quiet for a moment.

"That could be arranged," he said slowly. "I will ride with you myself for I would not have you go without escort."

"Can you be spared?" Celebrían asked, surprised.

"For you, my love," Elrond said grimly. "I will make myself spared. I trust no one else to see you through the borders and I am not seeing you loose your life." He kissed the top of her head.

"Now, come inside. I am not getting any warmer and if you wish to travel come dawn, I at least need to rest."

*****

2

The dawn broke over Imladris in a burst of fiery light, burnishing the trees with a coppery hue, raising blushes on the faces of the rocks and turning the rivers to blood. Legolas of Mirkwood bade a hasty farewell to his sleeping companion and vaulted lightly over the balcony rail, hanging by his fingertips for a fleeting moment and then dropping low into the bushes below. He paused, listening warily and then, on silent feet, fled around the houses to the stable block where last night, Elrohir had snuck in his horse for him. Legolas' young stallion lifted his head as Legolas pushed to the double doors. His back turned as he checked the door would hold for a few moments, he felt rather than saw movement behind him. Wheeling guiltily, he found himself face to face with an elf of lord Elrond's house.

"Glorfindel!" Legolas gasped aloud.

Glorfindel was no less surprised than the guilty youngster before him. Legolas of Mirkwood was the last elf, save his father, whom Glorfindel would ever have expected to encounter upon an early morning. Thranduil of Mirkwood and Elrond were on less than good terms for the Last Alliance had in some ways done more ill than good. Oropher had had precious little respect for Gil-galad, which he had demonstrated during the battle, flagrantly disobeying Gil-galad's call and riding to his death, opening the gates into Mandos' Halls for a great number of those who had long been loyal to him. Thranduil had watched him fall. And he blamed Elrond.

Whether indeed he would have blamed Gil-galad, had the High King survived, and that the blame was simply transferable, or that he blamed Elrond because Elrond was convenient, or that he blamed himself too much to be rational in his distribution of blame, Glorfindel knew not. All he knew was that Thranduil had lost more than his father that day. He had become what Glorfindel had deeply feared Elrond would, a spectre, existing because he too much responsibility to abandon his life, surrounded by and governed by the ghosts of his past.

It had impacted harshly upon his sons. Thranduil had sculpted them from their cradle into weapons rather than elves. They were warriors, skilled beyond measure with sword and bow. They had political tongues, though sadly they had about as much tact as their late grandsire. They were as cold and hard as the rock that formed the caves in which they lived. With the exception of Legolas. He was much the youngest of Thranduil's children and, with the increasing instabilities that threatened in particular the vulnerable Mirkwood, which given its location was at a greater risk than either Lorien or Imladris, had been given least of his father's time. The result was pleasing. Legolas had all of his brothers' skills but had retained a measure of his innocence, his wildness and developed his own interests. Glorfindel, of all the Imladris elves, was on closest terms with those in Mirkwood, having been close to the lady in years past. None the less he was distinctly shocked to find Legolas so far from home.

"Legolas!" Glorfindel made no attempt to disguise his astonishment. "Whatever is it that brings you here? Pray, tell me it is not ill news?" His face darkened with concern.

"It...it is not," Legolas stammered, looping his tangled braids back behind his ears. He drew a deep breath and spoke more calmly. "Indeed I was just visiting an acquaintance."

"Oh?" Glorfindel lifted his eyebrows. "And who might that be? You are taking a great risk in coming here, not least because of the enmity between our houses, I speak more of the growing forces of Mordor that besiege us with increasing regularity."

"It is indeed a foul time to travel," Legolas replied.

"So," Glorfindel pressed. "Who is it that you seek so urgently?"

Legolas had the grace to blush and he coughed lightly.
"I...ah..."

Glorfindel suddenly clicked. There was but one other who had been risking travel of such distances in the disquieted times under which they now suffered.

"Elrohir," Glorfindel said grimly.

Legolas shot him a startled look.
"How did you...?"

"By putting two and two together," Glorfindel shook his head. "Come, if we are quick I will escort you as great a distance as I am able before the dawn patrol leaves here. I would not advise that you attempt such a travel as this for a time, Legolas, it is not safe and love is not worth dying for."

"Is it not?" Legolas asked as he began to bridle his stallion.

Glorfindel hesitated.
"To die for a cause is one thing - to risk all for a few moments is not worth it. To die to save those whom you love, that is a worthwhile sacrifice, but to spend but a few hours in carnal desire and risk your life either side of that - nay, let it rest for a time, Legolas and seek him once more when things settle."

"And if they do not?"

Glorfindel was silent. Elbereth help us all if that is the way of things, for we have no Last Alliance in this day and we are divided, at greater risk than before.

"I suggest that we swim that river when we come to it," he answered, forcing a smile for the youngster's sake.

Legolas nodded, giving his horse a pensive clap on the neck.

"Come," Glorfindel ushered. "We must ride hard, I cannot leave Imladris for long and I think that you will be needed in the Greenwood also."

* * * * * *

The heat shimmered from the great body in waves. Elrond froze, aware, dimly, that the battle seemed to standstill in mutual terror. Orcs, Elves and Men alike were trapped in time, a moment that would forever be held in all minds alike, time itself was paralysed with fear. Cloaked in darkness, a form moulded from elven metals. The air vibrated with loathing, twisted into streaming gusts of toxic scented gas that scorched nostrils and choked lungs. It was as if the sun itself had fallen from the sky and the great mountain's shadow danced upon its grave. There was no sound. Battle cries and screams were silenced. Not even a breath stirred the air.

The black, swirling mist that seemed to radiate from the masked eyes fell heavy across the battlefields, making the blood seem garishly bright, surreal. And the shimmer of purest white that was Aeglos shone like starlight in the darkest night. Though he could not see them, Elrond felt the eyes of Sauron fix upon that proud star. Gil-galad's jaw clenched, but he never turned, never faltered as the Dark Lord bore down upon him. Aeglos thrust forward, a flash of white fire. The glitter of gold struck it aside. And suddenly time was moving again. Fast, too fast. Elrond felt his blade swinging, heard the clash of metal on metal and the snorting roar of an Orc, warmth splattered across his lips, metallic, vinegary and polluted. But he was conscious only of the pained cry that wrung his heart from his chest as the searing heat, making the air ripple like water, washed over Gil-galad.

He was gone. Aeglos crumpling into blackened ash.

Elrond jerked awake, his pulse beating in his throat, choking him. He kept his eyes closed tightly, trying to burn away the images. But though he now had returned to full consciousness, the curse of elven dream mean that the images played onwards in his head, regardless of his change of state. Elendil leaping forth to defend his friend and ally, cast aside in a flicker of gold to smash, broken, into the scalding, ashy rocks of Mordor. Isildur moved then, though he stood, barely feet from Elrond. A helpless distance. And far too late. Too late for everything.

Though the battle had been continuing around them, Elrond still stood, unable to focus though on automaton his blade lashed about him. Narsil shattered beneath Sauron's crafted foot, Isildur's face flashed with fear - and then rage. The broken blade swinging in a high arc and the last bright flicker of gold again, before the surge of heat from the severed soul and circlet of metal cascaded across the fields already bathed in blood, charring the marshy tufts of weed to the same bare, filthy rock as the Mountain of Doom. All those closest fell then, as Gil-galad had done, their bodies cast into ashes by the fire. Save Isildur, protected to the last, by his father's corpse.

The grip of hard fingers on Elrond's shoulder and the agony filled face of Círdan loomed into his vision, his icy blue eyes chips of stone, his expression grim with suppressed rage and distress. The choked voice, urging him to move. To go to Isildur and from somewhere, Elrond found the strength to comply, to carry out Gil-galad's parting command, "We have to destroy it, Elrond. .

But of course, they had not. Elrond rose stiffly, rubbing at his stinging eyes. He had shed few tears for the one he had loved so dearly. Even now it was only the brightness of the morning light that made his eyes sore.

A noise across the room made him turn with a start and Celebrían cast him a guilty look as she lifted her head from packing a small bag.

"Good morning. I am sorry if I woke you."

"And I was having such a good dream." Elrond sighed so heavily that Celebrían paused, giving him a more searching look, taking in the deep furrows on his brow and the pain darkened eyes. She moved to touch his shoulder. He let her, even closing his own hand over hers in acknowledgement of the silent comfort, but the muscles beneath her fingers were tensed against her and his flesh was cool to the touch. His eyes stared bleakly past her to the bed. The bedcovers were crumpled back and the pillows flattened, but whether he saw what was there or if his gaze strayed back through the ages she was unsure. His lips tightened and he turned away from her with another sigh, making clear that it was the latter. It was not hard to imagine of whom he was thinking.

She wanted to pull him to her breast, comfort him like a small child, yet in the same heartbeat she wanted to shake him. Shake him hard and cry: "Elrond! Elrond! Two thousand years have come to pass since that day - will you not let his memory rest? Is my dedication to you worth so little? It was but a millennium of your life and there are so many more ages yet to live!" But she held her tongue. As she always had. And ever would. The prospect filled her with dread and she felt the bleakness emanating from him seep inside her soul, darkening her spirit. She would always be, at best, second fiddle and more likely, just another reminder of those painful years past.

She stepped away, refolding her cloak vehemently into sharper creases. She had no wish to see Elrond in pain, yet she could not live her life in the same agony she tried to shield him from. Mama, mama, how I long for your counsel. Three weeks ride is an age away.

Elrond was still standing as if frozen, trapped in his own thoughts.

A thunder of knocks reverberated upon the door. Elrond jerked out of his reverie.

"My Lord!" Erestor's voice cried. "My Lord! You must come at once!"

As Elrond snatched at his garments for the day lay upon the chair, Celebrían felt the surge of unease at the tone of Erestor's summons pass. Now all she felt was resentment that she would be delayed in her departure.

* * * * *

"So," Glorfindel said, as they left the protection of Imladris borders and crossed into the wilds. "How came you, son of Thranduil, to be in love with a son of the house of Elrond?"

Legolas' smiled as though he had anticipated the question.
"I would not say that I am in love with him," he admitted, glancing at Glorfindel as he spoke.

"Are you betrothed to another?" Glorfindel asked, suddenly uneasy.

Legolas shook his head.
"Nay, not yet and not for a time I hope."

"Do you not like the society of the ladies then?" Glorfindel asked teasingly.

Legolas chuckled.
"You would be wrong to think that. I like it well enough, but to be married, to be so restricted - I would be loath to do it from duty and none has yet called to my heart in any manner that would induce me into matrimony."

Glorfindel nodded, still waiting for Legolas to answer his question.

"As for Elrohir," the youngster volunteered obligingly. "We became friends by chance. I nearly shot him while out hunting." He cast Glorfindel a look as though he himself were being hunted. "We were neither inside our borders."

"A bold admission," Glorfindel said, slightly suspicious. "Or was one of you completely out of bounds and in the other's territory?"

"I speak the truth!" Legolas said, a trifle indignantly.

Glorfindel smiled apologetically.
"I live with Elrohir - and come to that, Elladan too - do not blame me for being dubious, I know all to well of shared blame."

Legolas laughed at that.
"Then the slight is forgiven. But it is as I said, we became friends and from there it progressed."

"As these things so often do," Glorfindel murmured, thinking idly of the beds he himself had shared over the years, Haldir of Lorien's back in the first age, Elrond's from time to time and, though nothing would have induced him to mention it, even Legolas' mother's in the years before her betrothal to Thranduil. It was one of the reasons that he had remained upon favourable terms with those among the Greenwood. Thranduil knew nothing of his Lady's history with the Elf he considered only Elrond's second but seemed amenable enough to appeasing her by allowing her to share Glorfindel's company.

"Indeed," Legolas smiled. His glance ticked up to meet Glorfindel's, a question forming on his lips at the elder elf's distraction. But it was never asked. His smile slipped, his nostrils flaring delicately, his eyes widening.

The pungent stench of rotting flesh assailed Glorfindel's nose and he wheeled Asfaloth across the path of the young Prince of Mirkwood even as he heard the whine of a bowstring. The forest continued to spin, even though Asfaloth had halted. Pain suddenly exploded into his flesh, the waves of hazy sickness throbbing through him in the way that only shocked skin growing aware of its damage could bring. The trees above swung wildly over head. He groped for his own bow, blinded by spots dancing before his eyes and realising that his arm was no longer obeying his brain. He felt Asfaloth stumble beneath him and into his vision loomed the grainy face of a branch.

Distantly he heard the answering song of Legolas' bow before everything crashed into black.

* * * * * *

Elladan swung his quiver carrier across his back and fastened the buckle across his chest. Automatically he flicked the covers back on Glorfindel's bed to air the sheets. Elrohir, leaning impatiently against the doorpost, groaned aloud.

"You are wasting time, Elladan, for one thing, airing is not going to work. I think that you are going to have to wash those."

Elladan flipped him a rude sign, but moved towards the door.

"It is barely dawn, my brother, we shall not miss the first patrol of the light. And your eagerness to slaughter something at this hour is beyond my ken."

"Why? Because you are too weary from your own private exertions last night?"

Elladan glared at him.
"Actually I was thinking that it puts me off breaking fast," he retorted.

"Are you trying to tell me that you didn't? Because if not, Glorfindel had someone else in there last night - those sheets..."

Elladan growled wordlessly at him.
"If you are so insistent upon knowing then yes, we did, but no, I am not tired because of it."

Elrohir lifted an eyebrow.
"You are touchy this morning. Can you not keep up with him?"

Elladan sighed.
"Elrohir! Of course...No, I am not even going to continue gracing you with answers. I now know that you too were active last night in your bed, for nothing else puts you into such the humour to pester me about my relationship with Glorfindel. I can conclude only that you are jealous. Do you seek to best me in sharing the pleasures of the flesh?"

"I have no need to best you in that department. I think that we have already established that I am superior in archery and it was you who once drew the parallel between shooting with a bow and with a cock. And I did not get beaten by an Orc last night."

"I killed it," Elladan returned, sighing inwardly.

Elrohir, to Elladan's surprise did not continue to gloat. Instead he laid a hand gently on his brother's ribs, watching for a wince that did not come.

"Are you recovered?" he asked concernedly.

"It would seem so. It aches a little, but the bruise is gone. It is that I feel which is the cause of my slight fatigue."

"The healing process is a weary making one," Elrohir acknowledge. "But they say that sleep is a cure for most things...perhaps if you were to follow that advice..."

Elladan just groaned.

* * * * *

"I come, Erestor, I come," Elrond shouted back, buttoning his robe as Erestor repeated his summons, with that Elrond disappeared out of the door, leaving Celebrían to her packing.

"What is it?" Elrond asked at once, following his friend down the corridors at a brisk pace.

"There may be trouble upon the borders. It seems that a rider was sent to us from Lorien, but we did not receive him. Another rider brings us this ill news - a rider come from Mirkwood. Her companion was slain and she came to us for aid. She is taking rest in the kitchens - they were scouts and it was but by chance that she mentioned the messenger."

A young elven maid passing them gave Elrond a slightly surprised look; she was in the process of bearing water to his chamber for his morning wash. Elrond touched her arm.

"Would you tell my wife that I will meet her in the stables when I have attended to a few matters, please."

The maiden bobbed a nod.

"Thank you," Elrond turned back to Erestor. "She must of course be tended to," he said. "Take me to her. Where is Glorfindel?"

"I know not," Erestor said, frowning as he did so.

"And Asfaloth?" Elrond demanded, stopping short. "Pray, tell me that he has not ridden alone for this news could be of a serious nature?"

"He would not be such a fool..." Erestor faltered. "My lord?"

"Go at once to the stables and check," Elrond snapped at him. "And dispatch an emergency ride to scan the borders - did the pre-dawn patrol have anything to report?"

"Nothing to confirm, stirrings and restlessness in the woods and beyond but naught of definite threat."

"We may then have a little time," Elrond breathed a small sigh of relief. "Go to, Erestor. The rider is in the kitchens say you?"

"She is, my Lord," Erestor affirmed, turning as he did so and almost running for the stables.

"Erestor," Elrond called after him. "If you should see my sons, will you ask them to escort their mother to Lorien. She wished to go this day and it seems that I cannot be spared. She must not go alone."

"I will, my lord."

* * * * *

"Why, Erestor, what is the trouble?" Elrohir caught sight of the blanched faced elf as Erestor flew back towards the houses, crossing the path of the twins making their way to the patrol.

"Aye, there is trouble," Erestor glanced into Elladan's face and chose swiftly not to worry the youngster with the ill news he bore Elrond. Asfaloth was not in his stall. "The patrol is leaving at once, there may be trouble on the borders."

"Then we should hurry." Elrohir started forward.

"No," Erestor grabbed his elbow, receiving startled looks from both the twins. "Your father sends you to intercept your mother, who would ride for Lorien this day. Will you prevent her from going alone? Your father bids you escort her."

"We will," Elladan agreed at once.

"Not that I think Mama is going to need forcible restraint," Elrohir observed. "Then again - you would know this better than I, would you not Erestor?"

He was rewarded with a sharp flush of colour flooding the pale cheeks as Erestor practically ran for the house.

* * * * * *

Tasarë, hurrying up the stairs to the Lord and Lady's chamber caught her toe on a step and stumbled. The basin of water flew from her grip as she tumbled, emptying its contents down the steps in a miniature waterfall. Her chin scraped the step as she landed and she winced. With an audible sigh she picked up the empty basin, heading off in search of fresh water and a cloth.

* * * * * *

"I wonder what is happening," Elladan said uneasily, watching the patrol fly past in a flurry of manes and streaming tails.

"I wish that we were gone with them," Elrohir said, a touch grumpily. "Does father seek to shield us from battle do you think? It cannot take both of us to tell mother to stay here."

"And who is to say which of us should ride and which remain?" Elladan asked sensibly. "I would hope that we are past the age of petty bickering, but no one else seems to see it."

"I should think not," Elrohir snorted.

Elladan lifted an eyebrow in a gesture worthy of Elrond.
"Oh?"

"We will never be past the age of bickering."

"I am sure that we will."

"We will not."

"I will."

"You will not."

"I wi-..." Elladan stopped himself short and groaned. "Clearly I will not."

"You will," Elrohir instantly countered.

* * * * * *

Celebrían paced her chamber restlessly. She had finished her preparations for the journey and as a final gesture slipped into her outdoor cloak, fastening it with a brooch at the collar. Nearly an hour had passed and she was feeling irritated at Elrond's time keeping. What was the worth in making arrangements that were not intended to be kept? He could not have meant to lie, she tried to be reasonable, but her impatience gnawed at her. Then again, he was capable of lying when he said 'I do', she thought bitterly. She chastised herself immediately, unwilling to be so unfair to him despite her annoyance. In the case of 'I do' she had been equally guilty, it was only her gradual change of affections that brought her the resentment now. It was not so much that he was late that aggravated her. It was that he had shut her out, when clearly there was something of import that had cropped up, refusing to let her aid him, without even realising that he was doing it. And still, when it was not even clear what the problem was, he had agreed to ride with her. It would have made more sense for him to have told her straight out that he would come only when he could - or to have asked her to come with him.

He was distracted, she reminded herself. But the resentment jabbed her with its poisoned needles and her rationalising recoiled. He was distracted only because he is in love with a ghost and is mooning around like a newly awakened child; the vicious little voice plagued her. He loved Gil-galad; she tried to argue. But even her rational side turned against her upon this matter, for was not to love enough to let go? With a start she wondered if she should apply that also to herself. Perhaps she should be the one to leave Elrond. Perhaps, she decided, feeling shaken, she should get to her mother.

*****

3

The thunder of hooves upon the muddied track halted Erestor in the doorway of the front entrance.

"Hello there," a clear voice cried to him. "Get me aid at once!"

The tone of command would normally have antagonised Erestor, being spoken from the lips of one who was not his lord and with such assumption that he would be obeyed. But the face of the caller was streaked with dirt and blood and the body cradled so limply across his pommel was...

"Oh Elbereth! Glorfindel!" Erestor cursed aloud.

The youngster who had hailed him vaulted from his saddle and Erestor, with a call, pitched higher than usual through the double doors, ran to his side. The elf was a Sindar, blond-headed like the rider from Mirkwood who had come earlier to them. He seemed young but he bore Glorfindel's prone form with surprising strength to the house, Erestor guiding him.

"What happened?" Elrond's countenance was grim as he bent over the inert body of his counsellor and friend.

Legolas, who had revealed himself to be, much to Erestor's surprise, the Prince of Mirkwood and Thranduil's son, twisted his hands together, his face strained. He hesitated, unsure whether or not to reveal the true reason for Glorfindel's injury, but quickly decided that it was unnecessary.

"There are Orcs close upon your borders, one of them shot him," he said simply.

Elrond, stripping away Glorfindel's shirt, cast Legolas a small frown.
"It is unlike him to be so careless," he observed, hissing between his teeth as he regarded the torn flesh of Glorfindel's shoulder.

Legolas opened his mouth, closed it and then spoke, reluctantly, his eyes on Glorfindel's face.
"He was trying to protect me," he said quietly.

Elrond, squeezing water out of a rag to bathe the injury, cast him the smallest of approving glances.
"That truly seems more in character - though it would appear that you are more than capable of protecting yourself."

Legolas shrugged, a gesture that from him was graceful and not in the least offensive in it dismissal, the modesty raised him higher once more in Elrond's eyes.

Elrond stooped lower to examine the torn flesh, pierced through to the bone and lightly pressed a forefinger to the bloodied skin, lifting the digit to his mouth and tasting it. Relief washed over him in a wave. The wound was not poisoned.

"Would you hand me that packet please," he gestured to a small rag of herbs upon the table beside the bed.

"This?" Legolas indicated it, handing it over at the brusque nod.

For a moment Elrond occupied himself with soaking the herbs and placing them upon the damaged flesh. Glorfindel stirred with a slight groan but did not open his eyes. Elrond folded cloths into a pad and covered the injury, laying then his hand atop it. He withdrew from the surroundings, only distantly conscious of Legolas watching him quietly. He closed his eyes, reaching for the sound of the breeze whispering in the trees, the rush of the water from the falls and feeling the earth deep below the floors. His mind absorbed their sounds their presence, the energy vibrating from them infiltrated his being, seeping through him.

Slowly, deliberately he channelled it, passing it down through his arm in a line of greenish light that spread from his fingertips to glow across the surface of the wound, penetrating, sinking into the damaged flesh. He felt the answering shudder of the blood beginning to pound through Glorfindel's veins as the elven powers of healing were activated and the tissues tingled with their balm. He withdrew his hand, taking a moment to pass the resonant energy back to its source and then plucked a fresh pad from the stack upon the pillow, starting to bandage the wound with careful fingers.

"The only question that to my mind remains," Elrond said, lifting his head to study Legolas' reaction, "Is as to what it was that you were doing so close to my borders yourself."

Erestor summoning to him a number among the seasoned warriors of Imladris to ascertain the import of Legolas' tale, paused a moment, catching sight of Elladan, sat upon the half partition to his mare, Elen's stall, talking with Elrohir. With haste he conveyed the ill news to Glorfindel's lover, watching with concern as fear flew across the young Elf's face and with an uttered curse, he ran for the houses.

Elrohir had turned oddly pale, Erestor noticed, but he had not the time to enquire and swiftly wheeled his mount away. Elrohir stood frozen, feeling dread clench around his heart. Legolas. Legolas had brought Glorfindel to Imladris. Although logic suggested that this meant Legolas was not badly injured, if at all, Elrohir turned slowly on his heel. It would take no more than a moment to ascertain this for himself and he could not ride out without knowing if his lover was injured. He too ran for the house.

* * * * * *

"What I was doing so close to your borders?" Legolas repeated as though he were stupid. But Elrond could see all to clearly the intelligence that was held in the soft dark eyes as the younger elf considered the question, buying himself time to think with the repetition. It was Thranduil's teachings that had brought him that trait no doubt, but Elrond, long versed in discussions with Thranduil, was neither taken in nor perturbed by it. A muted sound of pain drew Elrond's attention from Legolas as Glorfindel opened his eyes. He blinked, momentarily disorientated and then sighed, reaching carefully to touch his strapped shoulder. His lips parted in a silent grimace and he cast Elrond a rueful look. Elrond made his disapproval clear in a glance.

"Perhaps not the best start to a new day, Glorfindel," he observed.

"So it would seem," Glorfindel sighed again. "And I thank you for attending me. It would seem that I should not perhaps have chided Elladan last night for his wound when I am apparently unable to prevent myself from the same fate."

"Is it needful that I reprimand you in the manner I spoke with him?" Elrond asked, smiling a little. "Nay, I shall not, for Legolas has been explaining to me that your wound was the fault of altruism not foolishness."

Legolas nodded, not looking overly comfortable with the situation, but he addressed Glorfindel with only guilt in his eyes.

"I am sorry," he said. "I thank you for your aid and I apologise sincerely for the pain it has cost you." The words sounded formal and quite unlike the casual banter of but a few hours before. It was clear that Thranduil's son, though his tongue knew well the correct words, was unused to being indebted to someone.

"Apology accepted," Glorfindel struggled to sit up and was grateful when Elrond gently aided him. "Legolas do not feel to blame in any way. I may have intercepted the arrow but you have returned me to safe halls and healing, we are equal and I myself apologise for not being able to protect you."

"We cannot be equal," Legolas bowed his head, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He sucked in a deep breath and continued. "Had it not been for me you would not have been there."

Glorfindel was silent, unable to deny it.

"Which leads us back to my question," Elrond said once more. "What was it that you were doing so near to my borders? Messenger I would not believe, for you are son of the King of Mirkwood and a warning rode but an hour before you did to our halls."

"Messenger I am not," Legolas said very quietly. He cast an apprehensive look at Glorfindel, who nodded encouragingly.

"He will not be angered, Legolas, speak freely," Glorfindel advised.

"You seem very sure of my state of mind," Elrond observed. "Continue, Legolas. I will not be angry whatever your reason, if Glorfindel reads it so."

"Lord Elrond, I was within your borders for reasons not of war but of the heart. I was visiting Elrohir." Legolas spoke boldly but his eyes showed his unease. "I offer no excuses for myself and I apologise for the invasion. It was foolish of me to attempt such an excursion in these times and it is my fault that Glorfindel was wounded - he was trying to ensure that I should at least set out for Mirkwood in safety." He had stared very hard at the edge of the rest bed during his speech. Now his eyes passed swiftly over Elrond's face.

Elrond sat for a moment in startled silence, trying to process the information. Elrohir was in love with Legolas. The shock receded to offer at first a surge of the anger he had promised against. Elrohir sharing a bed with the son of Thranduil! Whose father so slighted Gil-galad and then blamed him for Oropher's own mistakes. And Thranduil himself holds me in no high regard. But, Elrond counselled himself; Thranduil is no more Oropher than Legolas is likely to be Thranduil. It was true that Elrond liked Thranduil little better than his late father but his son obviously found something of delight to him in Legolas. And after all, Elrohir is not I, Elrond reflected. He barely knew the young Prince himself, though Glorfindel had spoken warmly of him. He decided swiftly that he would reserve judgement upon him and withhold automatic prejudices. The youngster's manners had so far impressed him, though Thranduil was a great one for public appearances. If nothing else, Elrond thought cynically, it will prove that I am not of the same mould as Thranduil that I do not instantly judge one by their parentage.

"You are right," he said finally. "To travel in such times is to court death and strongly would I advise against it. Yet I see that you would want to, for it is indeed unfair that this forced state of unease should intrude upon our lives more than is necessary and it would grant these forces a measure of victory if we allowed ourselves to be crippled by them. However, I fear that it is for the best. You must not leave here today; I do not believe it is safe. But, if we can forestall this attack your rider brought us ere your arrival, we may find you both escort to the Greenwood in a day or so. I must leave now, for I have to attend to the planning. Glorfindel - take some rest if it is required, but join me as soon as you are able - not before," he added warningly. "Legolas, you may accompany me if you are in need of water or sustenance. The rider from your kingdom will no doubt wish to see you and perhaps you may both be of aid." Rising, he led Legolas from the room.

* * * *

Celebrían sighed, staring out of the window at the empty valley, hanging in the silence, not even a tree stirring in the breeze. It was quiet in the house too. Outside she had heard the comings and goings of hooves, some single riders, some in groups, which were likely the patrols, checking the borders. But now all was still and from within there was little movement, doors opening and closing, but with no more frequency than usual. The corridor was deserted when she stepped into it. Moving to go down the stairs she heard Elrond talking to Glorfindel inside one of the nearby rooms, his voice curious but not unduly concerned.

"So," she murmured to herself, irritation rising once more. "He talks does he? When he was supposed to meet me."

She scowled at the closed door. It was not even one of the rooms used for conference purposes, nor with any records behind it. Evidently Elrond had just been distracted. Again. She deliberated walking in and out rightly asking for his indulgence, but dismissed it as petty. She could wait a little longer.

As she moved to return to her chamber she almost collided with her chambermaid, Tasarë. The young maid let out a squeak, hopping backwards, cradling her basin of water to her chest and slopping a little across her front.

"Calm yourself," Celebrían said, startled herself at the youngster's alarm. "I am sorry if I surprised you."

"No, no, my lady. It is I who should apologise for I am late. I have spilt this once already and I was afraid that I should again."

Celebrían smiled reassuringly.

"Mistakes will happen, Tasarë, do not concern yourself, but you may leave the water for me though I am already dressed."

Tasarë bobbed her head.

"Yes, my lady," she said respectfully, making Celebrían feel uncomfortable in her formality. "And, if you please, my lady...Lord Elrond bids you wait for him in the stables if you would. He will be with you shortly."

Celebrían felt her heart lift.

"Thank you, Tasarë," she said, her smile warming as she took up her bag and hastened for the stables.

Tasarë stood for a moment, still clutching her bowl. "I suppose you won't be wanting this then," she said, brushing the water from her sodden front.

* * * *

Glorfindel waited until the door closed and then swung his legs over the side of the bed, gritting his teeth as pain flamed along his arm. He reached for his shirt and eased his injured limb into the sleeve. The door opened abruptly and he paused, half expecting Elrond returning to insist upon his resting. What he received was the concern-etched face of Elladan. The youngster hurried to his side, pushing a dangling braid impatiently out of his eyes.

"Glorfindel! Oh Elbereth," Elladan whispered. "How badly are you hurt?"

Glorfindel made as if to shrug and instantly regretted it. He pulled a face and offered a crooked smile.

"I shall live," he replied.

Elladan drew the collar of Glorfindel's shirt aside to examine the bandage work, his blips pressing tightly together. He touched the edge of the cloth tentatively and then moved his fingers to Glorfindel's jaw to examine the bruise on his temple where the branch had struck him.

"So it would seem," he sounded relived, closing his eyes momentarily and letting out a quiet breath. He pressed a lingering kiss to Glorfindel's brow and his lover wrapped an arm around his waist, drawing him onto the bed.

"Do not trouble yourself, Elladan," Glorfindel soothed. "I am well enough, though," he admitted with a touch of irony. "I shall not be so quick to scold you for inattention in the future."

Elladan raised a smile.
"Perhaps it is I who should slap your wrist now," he suggested.

Glorfindel chuckled, kissing Elladan's cheek.
"If it pleases you," he replied, smiling.

Elladan turned his face so that the next kiss met his lips instead.

"I am surprised that you rode not with the patrol," Glorfindel observed. "It would seem that there are Orcs upon the borders - as of course, we now have proof - and your father fears a planned attack."

"I could not have ridden with them once I heard," Elladan answered. "And father bid me stay anyway - Mama was to ride to Lorien today, but for obvious reasons," his fingers brushed over Glorfindel's injury, "That cannot be. I was sent to intercept her."

"Then you must go," Glorfindel said, withdrawing his arm anxiously.

"Elrohir is waiting still," Elladan replied unconcernedly, pulling at Glorfindel's shirt and beginning to help him into it.

"All the same," Glorfindel said, giving Elladan's hair an affectionate caress as the youngster knelt to help him fasten his buttons. "You must go and I should return to your father."

"Are you well enough?" Elladan asked.

Glorfindel smiled a little.
"Yes. Now go."

Elladan rose, with a final troubled look at his lover, pasted a smile across it and hastened for the door. Glorfindel rose more cautiously, glad that neither Elladan nor Elrond were able to witness his first steps forward. It made him wonder if the elven sense of balance was not located in the ears at all, but in the shoulder. Then again, he reflected, steadying himself against the wall, he had also been hit on the head by a tree. His centre of balance was obviously in a worse shape than he was.

* * * * *

Celebrían cast another glance up at the sky; noting how the sun had crept still higher and the warmth of the air indicated the time to be around eleven. If Elrond did not come soon then it would take them another full day to reach Lorien, lest they did not spare the horses and, elven steeds or not, Celebrían had no wish to injure her horse by making too much speed. But with each passing minute as her frustration grew, she longed increasingly for her mother's council. She adjusted Yavanna's throat lash for the fifth time and ran her fingers over the mare's soft muzzle. The chestnut lipped at her palm and then sighed gustily.

"Not much longer," Celebrían promised. She could not vouch for Elrond, but her promise was not an empty one.

* * * * *

Elrohir collided with his father and Legolas in the corridor. He checked his haste abruptly, avoiding any direct contact with Legolas' eyes, though his heart leapt into his throat, both with concern for his lover and instant guilt at seeing his father with Legolas.

"I heard that Glorfindel had been injured," he said quickly. "Is he badly hurt?" He turned swiftly to Legolas, his speech following on smoothly. "It was fortunate that you were there, Legolas of Mirkwood..."

"Speak not so formally, Elrohir," Legolas smiled uneasily and glanced at Elrond.

"I am told," Elrond informed his son. "For it was escorting Legolas that Glorfindel was injured, he will however, recover." To Legolas, he added dryly. "I wish you joy." He winked at Elrohir and turning upon his heel he left the pair, heading instantly for his council.

Legolas glanced at Elrohir uncomfortably.

"I am sorry," he said awkwardly. "I would not have disclosed our relationship to your father without first your consent, but I could not have easily explained myself and I was loath to lie given my guilt in this matter."

Elrohir pulled Legolas to him in a rough hug, confirming for himself that his lover was intact.

"It does not matter," he said, once this was established. "Clearly Papa has not kicked you from the houses so he cannot be too upset - unless it is me he intends to receive the end of his boot."

Legolas chuckled.
"I think not," he observed. "He was remarkably calm about it. I wish my father were more like that..." He frowned, breaking off as though he should not have spoken so. He bit his lip and then shrugged. "I think all is well - for us, at any rate. It would seem however that the threat to your borders is escalating. If I can be of any help at all..."

"I am sure that you can," Elrohir smiled. "Where now are you bound?"

"I must speak to the one who is come from my own house."

"And I to my mother," Elrohir said. "But come and find me after and we shall see where we may be useful then."

Legolas nodded. Elrohir pointed him in the direction of the kitchens and turned back towards the stables. He hesitated, struck suddenly by a thought. Celebrían was taking her time over coming to the stables. He climbed the staircase two at a time, wondering why he had been so blind as to not think of going to her directly instead of lingering around waiting for her to get annoyed enough at the delay to head for the stables where they were waiting. But when he opened the door, her chamber was empty...

*****

4

Upon reaching the stables Elladan found them deserted. He stopped short, noting that Carnil and Elen were still patiently waiting in their stalls. Aranel, the horse master, was tending to the injured Asfaloth, who had been wounded when Glorfindel was shot. Elladan cast his eyes around the 'L' shaped stable block. He could not see around the bend, but it was obvious that his mother and brother had not left without him as Carnil was still in her stable. The mare was restive, chewing impatiently upon the top of her door and leering at him, teeth bared. Elladan pushed her muzzle away from the chewed wood.

"You have no more manners than Elrohir," he snapped at her, stalking towards the saddle room in search of his twin.

Returning, still none the wiser, he leaned his brow wearily against Elen's forehead, scratching her mane. There was nothing to do but wait. He was half tempted to relieve Elen of her tack and go back to Glorfindel, leaving Elrohir to escort their mother. But the friction on the borders decided him against it. Elrohir, if he had any sense, would, ride completed; remain in Lorien until their mother chose to return. Arwen had been sent there a time ago for safety. Elladan, however, had little faith in Elrohir's common sense, considering that his twin had seen fit to absent himself while it was imperative that they intercepted their mother. What if she had come while we were both away? Elladan shook his head in annoyance.

Moments later Elrohir came hurrying up, breathless and flushed.

"Where have you been?" Elladan snarled at him.

Elrohir managed to look contrite.
"Sorry, I got...delayed," his voice tailed off and Elladan drew his own conclusions. His countenance darkened further.

"How fares Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked meekly.

"He will survive," Elladan replied coldly. "I suppose we are just fortunate that Mama did not arrive in our absence."

Elrohir frowned.
"She is not here? I wonder where she is then. I went to her chamber and she is not there."

Elladan stared at his brother, feeling as though he had just stepped beneath the waterfall. A chill flooded through his body. Aranel lifted his head from strapping Asfaloth's knee.

"You are awaiting the Lady of the house?" he asked, his voice surprised.

"Yes," Elladan turned to him, his throat tightening.

"Why then, you are too late. She rode out more than an hour past now. I did ask if she was needing an escort but she told me that Lord Elrond was to accompany her."

"Papa sent us..." Elrohir's voice petered out, his face paling. He turned to his brother in anguish. "She would not...would she? The borders...."

"Lets just go," Elladan spat, wrenching open Elen's door.

* * * * * *

"So," Elrond paced the room, running his hands through his hair as he listened to the account of the Mirkwood messenger. "You say that there were dispatches sent from Lorien over two weeks ago, which your kingdom received last night and by all laws so should ours."

"That is correct," the elven woman answered. "Lord Celeborn is concerned about the passes in particular through the Mines - it would seem, if the dispatch did not reach you, that his fears are confirmed."

"It appears that is so," Elrond frowned and exhaled heavily.

"Is it not possible that the rider was delayed?" Erestor asked.

"It is still a hope," Elrond acknowledged. "But the quickest route between Lorien and here is through the Redhorn pass and, short of accident befalling a rider, that should not take more time than has already passed."

Erestor sighed then too.

"I cannot imagine such an urgent message taking another route, unless of course the Redhorn pass was known to be inaccessible and an alternative path taken."

Elrond wrinkled his nose.
"If the passes are at risk then one is likely to be as bad as another. It is clear that they mean to shut down our communications."

"That is grim indeed," Glorfindel observed. "We are already divided," he glanced at the rider from Mirkwood. "We have not the unity that we once held and for all communication to cease, that would serve us ill."

"Indeed it would," the messenger pulled a face. "But I fear it may be our lot."

* * * * * *

Legolas leapt backwards as from the stable block the twins horses erupted in a storm of flying hooves and streaming hair.

"What has happened?" he cried in alarm.

Elrohir cast him an agonised glance.
"Go to my father," he shouted. "Tell him that mother is gone to Lorien - alone. We are ridden in her wake."

"I will," Legolas affirmed, watching the pair drive their horses straight into a canter across the open grass. "Be careful," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else and then ran for the houses of Imladris.

* * * * *

"Surely, surely she would not have been such a fool," Elrohir begged his brother for comfort as their horses wound their way up the steep rocky valley sides.

"I fear she did not know the extent of the situation," Elladan replied grimly. "Glorfindel told me that there are Orcs close at hand, barely beyond our realm. Had she known this she would not have left."

"What route do we take?"

Carnil's hooves slipped on loose skree and Elrohir clutched at a handful of mane to steady himself. Snorting the mare righted herself and lurched up the track.

"Redhorn pass," Elladan replied immediately. "It is much the directest route and likely the one she would have chosen. We can always double back if we find we are ahead of her."

"What if the passes are blocked?"

Elladan shrugged.
"We do not know either way and if they are then she may be in trouble."

Elladan leaned forward as Elen mounted the peak of the rise.

"We ride hard," Elladan kicked Elen into a trot and then canter.

"Yes, straight into the Orcs so that we may die and be of little use to either mother or father," Elrohir muttered, more to himself than anyone, but he dug his heels into Carnil's sides, slapping the reins across her neck and startling the mare into a canter.

* * * * *

"Lord Elrond!"

Legolas' hail came as a surprise to Elrond, even more so that the youngster did not wait for a response to his knock upon the door, but opened it and came instantly in.

Elrond opened his mouth to say something sharply, but his throat dried out as he saw the livid spots of colour streaking the young Prince's face and the width of his frightened eyes.

"Legolas?" he queried in a voice that rasped suddenly.

"Elrohir bade me come to you," Legolas said breathlessly. "I am sorry to bear you ill news twice this day, but - Lady Celebrían has ridden for Lorien. Alone. The twins are gone after her."

He met Elrond's gaze with alarm as the colour drained from Elrond's face. Glorfindel had half-risen when Legolas entered and now stepped to Elrond's side, laying a hand upon his lord's arm.

"Thank you, Legolas," Elrond's voice was very strained. He felt as though he had been struck to the ground by a painless blow yet he knew the floor was still beneath his feet.

"Should we ride after her?" Glorfindel asked of Elrond.

He glanced at Glorfindel, for a moment unable to process the question. His instinct was to ride after her himself, come Orcs, come death, come whatever, but it could not be done. With an effort he checked himself.

"No," he said slowly. "We do not. We cannot afford to lose any number of our warriors, not when it seems that we here are in peril. Any follow up riders would be dispersed, vulnerable and of no use to either her or us in Mandos' Halls. The twins cannot be long behind her and they are as skilled as any I should have chosen for her guard - indeed I would have entrusted her life to few other than them of my own will.

"We continue to prepare Imladris for its own defence. I will send one rider to Lorien via Caradhras. That pass may not be watched and though it may take a little longer it will serve to access aid from Lorien or bring us word of her safety. Erestor, go you to summon the patrol leaders and the captain of the battalion. Call immediate council." He turned to the Mirkwood rider. "Would you please go to my horse master, Aranel and have him send out his fastest rider. Thank you," he added, when she complied without question.

The door closing behind them, Elrond swayed upon his feet. He clutched at the edge of the table and felt Glorfindel laid a hand upon his back soothingly. Elrond cursed very softly, lowering his head. He felt as though each word he spoke was lined with razors that sliced into his throat. Fear laced his gut like a chill frost upon a winter branch. If anything happens to Celebrían... He closed his eyes in anguish.

"How is this possible? What were they doing?" he spat at the floor. "I told them to go to her..." his voice trailed off as he realised that his rage was the product only of his fear and that it was directed at his sons for want of a better target. "And I should have gone to her myself," he finished, so softly that Glorfindel barely heard him.

He straightened up with an effort and registered Legolas still standing there, silent and wretched. The youngster reached out a tentative hand and laid it on Elrond's shoulder.

"I am sorry," he said, for want of words. "I do not mean to offer hollow comforts when we cannot know what is to come, but I think that your sons will find her. They are ridden on winged beasts and carry both bow and knives. I know that they are skilled in both equitation and archery. They will be fine themselves and she will be safe with them."

Elrond met the soft brown eyes, touched by the offering.
"Thank you," he murmured.

* * * * *

Celebrían shivered, casting an uneasy glance over her shoulder and giving Yavanna a pat on the neck to quiet her as the mare danced sideways, shying at an invisible demon. The big horse was unusually unsettled, her head continually strained up, her ears twitching and her nostrils flaring wide. Her eyes showed rings of white as she gazed through the trees, snickering at shadows and starting at the movements of the smallest creatures.

Celebrían wrapped her cloak around her. It was growing late, the sun dropping away from the sky, sliding down the ripples of tension that stirred like the breeze in the late afternoon. It was cold, colder than the time of day should warrant and Celebrían was beginning to grow nervous. Though she had ridden out fuelled by her annoyance, the fire from it had died, leaving her only with her fears, which magnified in the absence of the obscuring rage.

She had ridden on, oblivious for a time, fretting over her love for an Elf who could never return her affections and who preferred to share his bed with ghosts and memories. But even this and her reason for heading for her homeland paled with the light. She could not shake off the feeling that all was not as it seemed. The quiet was too quiet, the air too still. It was as though the world held its breath and awaited some event. She felt like a trespasser, stealing through a private kingdom where the ruler was known for foul temper and unwelcoming hospitality. She felt with each step that she should not take it, for she sensed a shadow that lay before her, darkening her way.

Yet she feared still more to turn back, for the thought had occurred to her. She would gladly have faced Elrond's fury and her own turmoil of emotions than ridden into the threatening unknown. But Yavanna did not seem to agree with her and baulked so violently when turned, that Celebrían had acknowledged defeat and let the mare continue, though the creature was as hesitant to go forth as she was to retrace her steps. Gradually Celebrían had grown aware of something moving in her wake also. Close at hand. Occasionally she caught a whiff of something that smelt charred or thought that she could hear movement, but she could see nothing. If she could make it to the pass before nightfall she would have shelter enough to last her until morning. She laid a hand on her waist and felt the comforting jewelled hilt of her knife.

The pass was in sight and she nudged Yavanna into a halting trot, keeping her hand on the hilt of her knife, finally admitting to herself her own fear. The craggy opening loomed before her when she smelt again the stench of something burnt, like discarded meat tossed into a fire. She caught the flicker of movement amidst the darkness and fear surged up through her like bile. She twisted savagely on Yavanna's bit and dug her heel into the mare's flank. The chestnut swung on her forehand and then half reared, her ears pressing flat against her skull. Celebrían felt rather than saw the motion behind her and her knife flashed out. She had the satisfaction of hearing it sink wetly into flesh with a sucking sound, before pain shattered across her temple. Yavanna grunted and buckled beneath her.

The metallic odour of blood merged with the smoky, sweaty stench of polluted bodies and the dark earth was driven up against her side. Celebrían gasped as the air shot from her lungs, pain slapping up her side. Through clouded vision she saw Yavanna keel over slowly, sinking to the floor, her muzzle dripping blood from the shattered cartilage of her nasal cavity. An arrow jutted from between her forelegs, the flesh swallowing the entire head, bright blood welling up the shaft. Celebrían tried to cry out, reaching a hand toward her dying steed. Agony shot up her arm as a foot crashed down upon it and the limb tingled in shock. She snatched her hand back, cradling it to her chest, lifting her head to locate the owner of the foot. Her nose hit the dirt and then pain erupted into her skull, swarming into her nose and eyes, spreading like a suffocating blanket through her mind, scarlet and then black.

* * * * *

Elladan studied the lengthening shadows and set his jaw.

"We ride on," he said eventually. "Until full dark. Then we stop, rest for a few hours and continue at first light."

Elrohir, drawing up beside him nodded.

"We do not go back until we find her," he vowed. Elladan reached out and clasped his brother's arm in a warrior's lock.

"Even if we have to ride through every Morian pass and every Orc's den to do it."

~ END ~