FicWad

Elrond sat on the bed beside his foster son, holding a flask of freshly brewed herbs. The precise dosage had been painstakingly measured by the elf- lord, and double checked by Gandalf, who stood beside Elrond. Estel's condition had continued to deteriorate to the point that when he managed to wake from his nightmares, he remained delirious. When Elrond pressed the flask to the young ranger's lips, he protested, pushing it away. Determined to help his son, Elrond tried again, this time gently massaging Estel's throat to encourage him to swallow.

He was thoroughly surprised when Estel's eyes opened wide, a panicked expression on his face, and his hands flew up to protect his throat. "No! No, please! I - I can't breathe!"

Too late, Elrond remembered the ghastly bruises that had encircled Estel's neck as a result of his captivity among the orcs. Ugblood had strangled the young human, causing him to black out, and damaging his windpipe so badly that his voice had been hoarse for weeks after. In his delirious state, Estel felt hands on his neck, and immediately associated that with what Ugblood had done to him. Nothing Elrond could do would calm his youngest child, and so he removed himself from Estel's bedside.

"Let me try." Arwen reached out her hand for the flask.

Elrond stared at his daughter for a moment, then handed it to her. "Be careful, my Undomiel. He does not know us. He must drink all of the draught. It will put him in a deep trance, which will enable me to do what I must."

Confidently, Arwen sat down beside Estel. "He will know me, and he will drink it all. Just give me a moment."

The elf-maid took Estel gently into her arms, and when he protested, she leaned close to him, whispering low and soft, things that no one but Estel could hear. Gradually, his mutterings and cries stopped, and he rested peacefully. His eyes opened again, this time not so clouded with delirium.

"Arwen." He reached up with his right hand to clasp hers as tightly as his diminished strength would allow. "Arwen, are you real?"

"Yes, my love. I am real. You are very sick and badly wounded. You must drink this draught, all of it. If you do not, you will be lost to me forever, and I cannot even think of such a thing."

Estel blinked several times, trying to focus. "What is it?"

Looking to Elrond to answer her question, and seeing that he shook his head to indicate that she was not to tell him what the draught was truly for, Arwen answered him, "It was made by Ada and Mithrandir, who are trying to help you. You must drink it, Estel."

Arwen gently moved the flask to his mouth, helping him to hold it steady as he drank it to the last drop. "Lie down, my Estel. Let the draught do its work. I am here and will be here when you wake. Ada is here, and Mithrandir, and also Elrohir and Legolas. We will not leave you."

Estel closed his eyes as Arwen asked, whispering, "Tell Legolas Greenleaf that he is a good elf, a good friend."

Standing beside Elrohir, Legolas looked down, lest the other elves see the tears that shone in his eyes, but did not fall. The Prince of Mirkwood answered softly, "And Aragorn, son of Arathorn, known as Estel, son of Elrond, is a good man. A better man and a better friend than he do not exist."

With those last words, Estel slipped into the coma-like trance that was necessary for Elrond to heal him. Arwen stood, planting a kiss on Estel's forehead, and went to stand with her brother and Legolas to make room for Elrond to sit down. Mithrandir raised his staff, uttering words that were known only to the wizards, and the room grew darker. Elrond reached out his hand and let it rest on Estel's forehead and allowed himself to enter Estel's mind. If anything went wrong, Mithrandir would use his magic to bring both Elrond and Estel out of the mind-trance.

Elrond slowly opened his eyes, glancing around at his surroundings. A sickly yellowish fog permeated everything, blurring his vision. Before he could even begin thinking about how to proceed with his mission to free his son, he was assailed with a staggering sense of despair so heavy that it seemed it would drive his incorporeal form to its knees. He had communicated with Galadriel with his mind several times before, but this was markedly different. It was as though he was simultaneously viewing from afar and intimately experiencing all that his foster son felt.

Through the fog, Elrond could make out several shapes, and hear raised voices. A feeling of cold horror crept into the pit of his stomach when he heard his own voice say harshly, "Exiled."

He felt Estel's devastation as completely as though it were his own. He could hear his son's thoughts as though they were his own, and he was overwhelmed with a mixture of shame and horror. When he had exiled Estel, he had committed the ultimate betrayal. Elrond felt the depth and strength of Estel's character, and of his love for Arwen. He felt his son's helplessness -- it was truly impossible for him to simply stop loving her, no matter how willing he was, and he had been willing. Estel had truly wished that he could cease to love Arwen, had prayed to the Valar for it, all so his elven father would not hate him and send him away.

Remembering Arwen's words when she had heatedly explained to him that Estel had in no way initiated the relationship, Elrond could now see that she had spoken the truth. Estel had sought to deny himself love just to please Elrond. "Oh, my Estel. I am sorry. I did not understand what I had done to you."

An eerie laugh emanated from somewhere within the yellow fog. "Elrond Half- Elven. I have been waiting for you."

Flashback...

"Mother! No, no, oh Valar, no!" Elladan cried out in anguish at the sight of his beautiful mother in the hands of cruel orcs.

Celebrian did not react to the sight of her twin sons riding into the orc camp, swords flashing as they cut down orc after snarling orc. Elrohir was the first to reach her, and he leapt down from his mount, protecting his mother with his own body, hacking and slashing at the creatures as they attempted to get past him to further torment Celebrian.

Elladan watched in horror, still too far away to prevent the orc's rough sword from entering Elrohir's right side and driving all the way through him until the point protruded from his back. Elrohir cried out in agony, falling to the ground.

"Elrohir!" Elladan screamed his twin's name with a voice that was raw with grief. He threw his dagger with deadly accuracy at the orc who had dealt the blow to Elrohir, then in a frenzy of rage, killed the remaining orcs, impervious to the various cuts and scratches he received in the process.

When all of the creatures were dead, Elladan raced to where his mother stood, staring dazedly at Elrohir, who lay motionless on the earth, a pool of blood spreading out from beneath him.

"Mother! Mother, can you ride?"

Celebrian nodded, the tiniest movement of her head, and Elladan gently helped her onto the back of his horse. He then knelt beside his twin and tore strips from his own tunic to stop the blood from flowing. Although he knew that there was no way that he could lead Celebrian's horse and carry Elrohir all the way back to Rivendell, it never occurred to him not to try. Luckily, it was only minutes before a company of elves led by Glorfindel arrived.

Elrohir and Celebrian were quickly transferred to pallets in the back of a wagon pulled by the fastest horses in Rivendell. Elladan's legs gave out, and he would have fallen to the ground had Glorfindel not caught him. The regal elf had always had a soft spot for the twins, and had frequently told them stories of his travels and given them sweets as children. As they grew older, Glorfindel remained close, teaching them everything from swordcraft to history and languages in tandem with Lord Elrond. Now, Glorfindel, killer of Balrog, held Elladan to his chest, stroking the midnight hair and whispering softly words of comfort. Had Glorfindel not been there to see that Elladan got home, it was likely that the overwrought, wounded young elf might have curled up on the hard earth and died of grief.

Upon their return to Imladris, Lord Elrond immediately began working to heal his wife and his son. When it became apparent that Celebrian's most grievous wounds were not physical, Elrond had decided that Elrohir would have to be stabilized and quickly, lest he die.

Elladan remembered sitting in his room, his wounds being tended by Glorfindel. It had been two days before he had seen his father, even for a few moments. After Elrond had done all that he could for Elrohir, he had left his son under the care of the other healers, concentrating his efforts and full attention on trying to heal Celebrian. Arwen could do nothing but weep. She was scarcely more than an elfling, and was very close to her mother. Celebrian's absence left a gaping hole in the young elf-maid's heart, a hole that could not be closed by comfort offered by her brother.

Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn arrived as quickly as they could travel from Lothlorien, their ageless faces tight with concern and grief for their daughter. Celebrian regained her senses, but decided to depart for the Grey Havens. Against the pleading of her parents and her husband, she refused to see her children before she left. It was not often that Galadriel was at a loss for words, but she could not force Celebrian to change her mind. In the end, Celebrian departed before Elrohir, who had protected his mother at the cost of his own body, ever regained consciousness. Arwen found comfort in her grandparents and left for Lothlorien with Galadriel and Celeborn when they left Imladris. Elladan could not fault his sister for leaving. He knew that she would not find the comfort she needed in Imladris, not while the grief of loss hung heavy over the house of the Peredhil.

End Flashback

Alone in his room, Elladan stared at the wall and his body began to shake with sobs. The unnatural yellowish haze in the room thickened, and, had anyone been there to notice, they would have heard the sound of cruel laughter.