Celebrían closed her eyes briefly against the onslaught of polyphonic screams, wondering idly how such howling could be so lyrical. Lindir would be pleased.
“I do not want to die!”
“I did not mean to kill him!”
“Ada! Nana! I do not want to meet Námo!”
“Stop bleeding, ‘Roh, please!”
With a silent prayer for fortitude, the Lady opened her eyes, hoping against all evidence that things were not as bad as they seemed, but there was no escape.
Elrohir’s face was dripping with blood, one ebony eyebrow split by a gaping gash. With each fearful bellow, another spray of scarlet burst from the wound, splattering hair and tunic. Elladan was covered as well, one small hand pressed helplessly to his brother’s wound, the other dangling a bloodied wooden sword.
“Save him, Nana,” the elder twin pleaded, ”please save him!”
Celebrían spared a last fond glance for her pale grey dress before drawing both panicked elflings into her arms. “Shhh,” she shushed, prying away Elladan’s hand to cover the wound with a fold of her sleeve. “No one will die this day, pin nith. ‘Adan, run fetch Ada. Quickly, now.”
Secure in his mother’s arms, Elrohir quieted, his howls fading to muffled sobs. “’Dan did not mean it, Nana,” he confided. “I just got too close to the orch.”
“Indeed?” Elrond broke in, kneeling beside the stone bench. “You must be more careful of your stance, then, hmm? Let me see what he has done to you, ‘Rohir.”
Celebrían dared a glance at the uncovered gash, the quickly averted her eyes while Elrond studied the ugly laceration with a sigh. “’Twill need to be closed,” he said, lifting his son easily.
“But my sword...it is lost!” the injured elfling protested, his face crinkling alarmingly as tears gathered again in clouded grey eyes.
“I will rouse Glorfindel, and we will see to it,” Celebrían promised, pressing a kiss to one blood-streaked cheek. “We shall search the valley from head to foot and peer under every pebble.”
Satisfied that his weapon was in the capable hands of the Balrog-slayer, the younger twin nodded slightly, then winced, laying his head down on his father’s shoulder. Elrond held out a hand to his firstborn, smiling reassuringly. “Come along, ‘Adan, and you may assist me.”
“May I hold the bandages?” Elladan asked, his guilt nearly forgotten in his excitement.
Elrohir immediately raised his head, pinning his brother with a sullen glare.
“You,” he announced in a tone that bore no dissent, “may hold my hand.”
*~*~*~*~*
