Against All Odds

Summary: Still grieving the loss of their mother and striving to assuage their blood lust the twins rescue an elf from the hands of orcs, and through ups and downs they come to find true love

Author's Note: Many thanks to Ryo and to Jilly for their input and support throughout the writing process, for their beta work, and their suggestions. �The Fall of Gil-galad� as translated by Bilbo Baggins belongs to Tolkien as do all characters with the exception of Cull�m who belongs to me.

' ' denotes mind speak

~~~

Glorfindel checked the latches on the main doors, shaking his head slightly at the need. Turning away with a sigh, he extinguished the lantern that lit the hall casting the room into darkness. The pale winter moonlight threw intricate patterned shadows upon the floor, in another time he might have stopped to marvel at them, but in these days there was little that could raise his awe.

Each night he made these lonely rounds, he checked that the house was secure; he extinguished lanterns that had been forgotten in halls now little used. He passed through the darkened gallery, barely glancing at the portraits of smiling elves that seemed to watch him as he passed by. He paused, at the point at which a corridor joined the gallery, before a life sized painting to gaze upon the laughing face of a fair haired elleth

It had been seven years since the Lady Celebrian had sailed for the undying lands with a small number of the household. Seven years, that the house had been in mourning, and that his Lord grieved for the loss of his wife. The elflings were gone now too, Lady Arwen to Lothlórien and the solace that her Grandparents could give, and the twins, Glorfindel shook his head, there was no telling where the twins were now, he thought with a sigh.

Turning down the corridor he made his way to the hub of the house. Passing by the Hall of Fire, he could just make out the subdued sounds of music; it had been a long time since jollity and laughter spilled from that chamber or any other.

He was nearing the end of his nightly promenade now; he would pass through the administrative wing and library, and then retire to his chambers to the company of a bottle of fine wine and a cold supper.

Rounding the corner he could see that candles still burned brightly in his Lord’s study and fearing that they had been left untended made a move towards the open door. Elrond sat at his desk surrounded by papers, a quill in his hand. Glorfindel noted the measured movements that the quill made over the parchment and this image of normality seemed strangely at odds with the dark circles beneath the Lord’s eyes. He cleared his throat.

Elrond looked up, “Ah Glorfindel, good. Come in.”

Glorfindel frowned slightly as he entered seeing that his Lord was dressed in sleeping attire, and not his customary robes of office. To see him so casually dressed was unusual enough to worry Glorfindel greatly.

“My Lord?”

Elrond waved him into a seat and placed two piles of sealed parchments before him on the desk. “Would you arrange a courier first thing in the morning to see these to the Havens and to Lothlórien? To say that they are correspondence of some urgency is an understatement; these missives should have been answered months ago.” Elrond sighed heavily and dropped back into his chair.

Glorfindel frowned, “Why are none of the scribes taking care of this?”

Elrond rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “You must not blame them; they have had no direction, since Rómendil sailed.” Elrond rose.

Glorfindel watched as Elrond moved to pour some wine. That the Imladris chief advisor had chosen to accompany Celebrian to the west had not surprised any; he had been devastated by her attack and overcome with sea-longing, had resolved to rejoin his wife in Valinor. And while none could begrudge him that, it was surprising that he had not instructed any of the remaining scribes in his duties.

Elrond seemed to read his mind as he held out a glass for Glorfindel to take.

“Melpomaen has taken over what duties he can, and I must confess I had hoped he would be willing to take on more responsibilities and perhaps even take over the role of Chief Advisor in time, “ Elrond sighed heavily. “But it seems that he does not want the position, and I would not force it upon him.”

Glorfindel snorted, “I would. Will you give me leave to speak to him?”

Elrond fixed him with a stern look which brought to mind the elf that Glorfindel had served for untold years, the elf that was, before grief had touched his heart.

“I will not! I would sooner make do with no advisor at all than have one forced into the position. I have neglected my duties; this cannot continue, nor should it. I miss my wife Glorfindel, I shall not deny it…but I do her memory a disservice by shirking my responsibilities.” Elrond finished shaking his head, gazing wistfully into his glass.

Glorfindel shifted in his seat, perhaps Elrond was ready to take up his role once more. He knew that Elrond’s staff would keep a close eye on him, and that he would not be allowed to harm himself. He nodded thoughtfully, looking over the desk at the numerous correspondences that littered it.

“Have you received any word from the twins?”

“Nay,” Elrond stated with a sigh, “I can only hope that they will return before the passes are closed for winter. They did give me their word to do so, but still I worry that they will not. I fear for them, Glorfindel…to lose them would be more than I could bear.”

The Golden Lord nodded solemnly.

“The blood of men runs strong in them, and this blood lust,” Elrond trailed off shaking his head. “If they should choose a mortal life I shall feel as if I have failed them and Celebrian.” He paused once more. “How will I be able to face her?”

Glorfindel shook his head, “My Lord, they have not yet made their choice, and I do not believe that they will make that decision rashly. There is still time for them to find their way back from these actions fuelled by grief.”

-

The two elves crouched motionless upon a sturdy branch, their weapons in hand as they observed the progress of three orcs foraging for firewood in the woodland below.

They allowed their quarry to fully enter the clearing before they dropped to the ground, cutting the foul creatures off from the way they had come.

They showed no mercy as they engaged; identical faces were set in identical grim expressions as they pressed forward. Attacked unawares, the orcs took a moment to draw their weapons, the first falling even as he fumbled for his sword.

This skirmish presented no challenge to the two well trained and experienced elves, and after only a moment the remaining orcs had been efficiently dispatched and the elven weapons had been sheathed once more.

The elf dressed in green kicked at one of the corpses. “They don’t have any packs with them, E’dan.”

Elladan glanced towards his brother who stood above the decapitated orc like an avenging angel; his braids had come loose, and the long dark hair they had been holding back blew in the wind and Elladan’s heart faltered in his chest. Elrohir was the most beautiful elf he had ever seen; in his eyes he was perfect.

Shaking his head slightly he looked over the orc that lay at his feet, taking a moment to pull his dagger free and to wipe the blood from the blade before sheathing it in the empty scabbard at his waist.

“They were certainly not expecting an attack; do you think perhaps they are part of a larger force?”

Elrohir crossed over from where he had been standing to where the third orc lay sprawled out on the ground. “I would say so; they are travelling too light to have come far. I suggest we dispose of this evidence and track these heavy footed monstrosities back the way they came.”

Being in the right place to do so Elladan reached out to hook an arm about his brother’s waist, pulling him over the short distance into his arms, before resting his chin upon his twin’s shoulder and whispering in his ear, “I concur.”

Elrohir gasped as he felt his brothers hands roam over his body. A hand stroked the burgeoning flesh between his legs and a second hand traced the cleft of his backside, he pressed back against those questing fingers.

“E’dan we don’t have time for this…there may be others hereabouts.”

“I sense no others nearby and will keep my thoughts open to any that should approach. We shall not be disturbed unawares.” He nuzzled at his brothers neck, his hand tracing the outline of Elrohir’s hardened length, his own pressing eagerly into the backside before him.

Their breath came in pants as they released each other to fumble with the lacing of their leggings. In such a place and at such a time they knew better than to divest themselves entirely of their clothing and though Elladan longed to feel his lover’s naked skin beneath his hands, he contented himself with exploring the soft mounds of flesh that were revealed as he pushed down his brother’s leggings. Elrohir moved his legs further apart; his hands braced upon the oak tree, his head looking back at his brother with his lips parted in lust. Elladan needed no further invitation as he leaned forward to taste those lips and his tongue slipped within to wrap itself about its twin and Elrohir gave a contented sigh as an oiled finger breached him. No prolonged preparations were necessary, their bodies knew each other intimately and often, and when at last Elladan released those bruised lips Elrohir needed no coaxing; he braced, the tree bark feeling course beneath his fingers and presented himself for the taking.

“So beautiful,” Elladan murmured as he stroked a hand in appreciation over the naked skin before him and settled between the long legs. Positioning himself carefully, so that the first stroke would sweep by that spot deep within his brother, he pushed forward. Elrohir cried out as he hit his mark, though the slight hiss was evidence of the tension in his brother’s body, and Elladan stilled.

Elrohir shifted his weight from foot to foot in irritation. “E’dan please, you will not hurt me and I need to feel,” his voice trailed off as Elladan squeezed the hips beneath his hands in reassurance and understanding. He did understand how sometimes pain was as satisfying as pleasure and how they had often sought rough couplings since their mother’s attack. Somehow the killing of orcs alone was not quite enough and often they took pleasure with each other after an attack to reaffirm their bond and to release the tension not assuaged by more violent pursuits.

He pulled back and Elrohir sighed softly, gratefully as he took his pleasure, as he loved his brother, as he filled him and pleasured him in turn.

-

“El’ir, that’s far enough,” Elladan hissed urgently at his brother who was within steps of revealing himself to a small gathering of orcs. Well used to heeding such warnings Elrohir climbed silently up the tree to join his twin upon a branch within the leafy confines of an oak tree that looked out over a small clearing.

The woods before them were bathed in shadow. There were mature trees in this part of the forest and their branches, still holding onto their autumn leaves, shielded the glade from the sun’s rays.

A group of five orcs were involved in some kind of spat just a stones throw from where they were concealed. Towards the centre of the space a large hearth had been set up, crudely made with a circle of rough hewn stones about it.

It was not until an orc appeared at the far edge of the clearing shouting in its foul language that the two elves saw that the bushes concealed what looked to be a cave entrance of sorts, perhaps a bear’s winter den. The brothers looked at each other and nodded slightly in agreement before fading back into the woods and away from the clearing.

-

“That hearth is well used.”

Elladan nodded once in agreement, his brows knit in thought.

“How many do you think are camped there?”

“A score at least, perhaps more given the tracks, this may not be so easy for us to deal with, El’ir.”

Elrohir moved over to where Elladan stood with his back to a tree gazing thoughtfully at the ground and pushed his brother’s shoulders flush against the tree, forcing the elf to meet his eyes.

“Since when do we shrink from a challenge, E’dan? Did we not clear the Redhorn Pass without assistance, ensuring the safety of those who would cross that way? Do we not avenge the memory of our Naneth and seek to wipe this foulness from our world? We must not falter, we must not fail.”

Elrohir’s eyes blazed at him, and Elladan knew well that it was senseless to try and speak words of reason when his brother was in such a mood It seemed to him that the killing of earlier in the day had only served to heighten his twin’s need for blood. He felt the same, but he was not foolhardy…and the prospect of attempting to dispose of twenty or more orcs in an enclosed space brought with it problems and dangers that they were not used to facing. But then there was the hearth, he mused.

“We will conceal ourselves and wait for a day; I will not risk losing you through lack of knowledge.”

Elrohir moved forward to kiss his brother soundly, touched by his concern, and relieved that he did not truly wish to walk away from this blight upon the landscape.

-

“Well?”

Elrohir watched as his twin shrugged off his heavy leather jerkin and his under tunic, throwing them into a pile before seating himself next to his brother. He gratefully accepted the water flask he was offered, tipping half the contents over his head before using the rest to quench his thirst. Only then did Elladan deign to answer the question, laying his head upon Elrohir’s shoulder wearily.

“It is a full battalion, though the Valar alone knows what their purpose is.”

“Elbereth! Are you sure?”

“Certain. I counted twenty one about the fire last night, and reckon there are at least six posted as sentries in the cave, or caves; with the three we disposed of yesterday, that makes a full battalion.” Elladan sighed heavily, “This is not going to be easy, El’ir.”

“But neither is it impossible, if we can take out the company about the fire, we can manage this.”

Elladan smiled at his brother’s optimism and kissed his exposed neck. “You are right, we can do this. But after I have rested for a time, we will strike them after nightfall.”

Content with this answer, Elrohir set about making his brother comfortable, his senses reaching out to guard their camp as he stroked the sable hair that lay across his chest and tightened his protective embrace as Elladan slept.

-

It was two hours after nightfall when the two elves, dressed in full battle gear, approached the orc camp in stealth, their weapons at the ready.

Elladan reached out to halt his brother, dismayed to see that the clearing housed only a fraction of the orcs he had seen the previous night. He counted only fifteen seated around the fire bickering amongst themselves.

“We wait,” he hissed. Elrohir frowned at him, his features already set in their battle mask. Elladan shook his head vehemently, his grip tightening about his brother’s arm, pulling him as quietly as possible into the shadows.

The night was cold, winter would be coming to this place soon, and Elladan wondered if Imladris had received its first dusting of snow yet. He remembered wistfully how magical the snow had seemed when they were still elflings with few cares. He watched Elrohir’s breath freeze as it hit the cool air in misty wafts and kept a watchful eye upon the orcs around the fire who seemed to grow more boisterous with each passing minute. But still no more appeared and after an hour of waiting, Elrohir shifted his feet in impatience.

Elladan was just at the point of calling a halt to the icy watch when their hands were forced by a torch flung from across the clearing, which was dodged by its target landing squarely at their feet, illuminating their presence to any with the wits to see.

A cry of alarm went up, the orcs grabbed for their weapons, and the elves had just a moment to ready themselves for the battle, their element of surprise utterly spent.

They moved as one, ducking and weaving, slashing and felling. All thoughts narrowed now to that which was immediate, all movements intent on survival.

As the last orc fell, Elrohir gasped, black blood was splattered across his face and his tunic hung in tatters. “These are not experienced fighters,” he stated after a moment, adrenalin causing his eyes to blaze and his muscles to twitch in exhilaration.

“Let’s be thankful for that,” Elladan stated morosely, pulling his sword free from the orc’s chest, “To the cave, now.” He pointed the way with his blood coated blade.

Elrohir nodded once, sheathing his sword and drawing his knives, which would be easier to wield in the confines of a cave.

Grabbing a torch, Elladan stepped towards the bushes at the far side of the clearing and the entrance to the cave appeared like a gaping hole in the bank. Some tumbled rocks, not unlike the hearth stones, lay scattered about and the earthy scent of damp moss rose with the steam rising from the ground to invade their senses.

Elrohir came to his brother’s side just as he was changing his weapon; the bloodied sword was replaced by a single slender blade, shorter than a sword yet longer than the twin knives that he preferred.

“Have a care, brother mine,” Elrohir whispered as they made ready, both now standing on either side of the cavern mouth. Elladan nodded once in response, their eyes locking in some silent communication for just a moment and an agreement reached.

Elrohir made a slight gesture with his hand, and Elladan moved swiftly, tossing the torch into the blackness and as the two went forward as one into the cave entrance they gave out a battle cry that would set the orcs quaking.

“Ecthelion!!”

Ducking down beneath the low entrance stone they moved with what speed they could in the cramped confines of the damp walls and into the small chamber beyond. An orc appeared in the threshold of a chamber to the left, calling out as he fell back into the darkness at the feel of cold steel. The tall candle that had illuminated the area clattered to the ground and the room was plunged into darkness.

The thrown torch spluttered once and went out, and they were fumbling around in pitch black.

Even with elven eyesight the darkness was complete but after a moment it seemed that other senses were awakened. Elrohir could hear the scraping of a rat in the corner behind him, and a steady flow of droplets falling from the damp roof. He could hear Elladan’s steady breathing and imagined he could hear his heart beating fast.

So it was that as soon as the company of orcs began to move along the stone floors of the inner caves, the brothers were alerted. The steady tread of heavy boots on uneven ground and the grating sound that passed for words between these foul beings brought them closer. As soon as the amber torch light filtered through the darkness to illuminate the entrance by which their would-be attackers approached, the two elves mobilised, hiding on each side of the doorway, waiting to strike.

The torch-bearer was the first to enter through the opening and was quickly and silently dispatched; Elladan took up the torch then and dashed through to the empty chamber where the first orc had fallen to place the torch into a sconce upon the wall.

He returned in time to see Elrohir take down two with one well placed sweeping motion of his knives. A third came up quickly, his crude sword ready to deal his brother a wounding blow, but the strike did not fall as the orc slumped down over his companions with Elladan’s throwing dagger in its neck. Then there was silence.

They dragged the dead out of their way and picked up the torch that the last orc had dropped, lighting three more torches ensconced on the wall before placing the torch into an empty bracket at the end of the stone passageway. Beyond, they could see the flickering of firelight. The corridor entered into a large chamber, where a fire burned cheerily in a low alcove, but the hall was eerily deserted.

The brothers looked at each other in confusion for a moment before Elrohir walked forward into the centre of the chamber.

“Be ready,” he stated, not even attempting to keep his voice low. Elladan nodded once and took up a defensive stance at his brother’s back.

Again they shouted, “Ecthelion!”

Their cry was met with what might have been curses, but in any case soon they had plenty to keep them occupied as orcs streamed from the inner chambers, with their weapons in hand.

The two elves fought with the precision of warriors well used to fighting as a unit; the orcs attacked with the desperation of trapped animals, which gave the twins the upper hand. Had their enemy co-ordinated some kind of an attack, they might have been hard pressed. As it was, the orcs pushed forward with no pause and as one was cut down so another appeared to take its place.

Elrohir felt rather than saw his brother get into trouble; and he moved at once, drawing his opponent into a position where he could defend Elladan, who was fighting now with laboured gestures, pain forcing his features into an angry grimace. Dispatching his own opponent with needed speed, he whirled about to decapitate the orc seeking to take him unawares and used the sudden lull to move forward, bodily shoving the orc that pressed in on his wounded kin back into the centre of the hall, his blades moving at speed to deflect the blows from the crude iron cudgel.

It was clear this orc had more experience than the others. The leader perhaps, Elrohir thought in passing. His opponent gave no quarter, and Elrohir’s knives seemed like training weapons against the relentless attack.

Then it was over. The orc he had been fighting slumped down onto the floor with an angry snarl, and Elrohir could not at first see what had felled the creature. But as it rolled onto its side with its last breath, Elrohir could see that it was impaled upon his brother’s sword, and to one side Elladan was standing unsteadily against a wall, looking rather smug.

Elrohir moved swiftly to his brother’s side then, his face the picture of concern. Elladan batted away his hands, “I’m fine, El’ir, just winded and perhaps a little bruised.” He gave a wry grin, “I can hear Glorfindel’s voice in my head.”

Elrohir smiled, “As can I brother,” they locked eyes for a moment before stating sternly in unison.

“Swords are not for throwing.”

Elladan giggled, grimacing as he pushed off from the wall. Elrohir moved at once to support him, his hand searching through the pouch at his waist. He handed Elladan what looked like a dry root and Elladan wrinkled his nose at it in disdain before popping the sour tasting pain killer into his mouth.

“Do you think we have finished them?”

Elladan looked over the numerous bodies now strewn across the floor. “I think so, but best to be alert still; when this foul root takes effect, I shall check the chambers. I fear I will not be of much use in the disposal of this mess.”

Elrohir rolled his eyes at his brother for stating the obvious. “We shall check the chambers together, as I am not convinced you can wield your blade.”

“I can, and I sense that terrible deeds have been done here; I would be gone from here soon. And I will be just a call away, so you need not fret, lover.”

It was only then that the two stopped to take in their surroundings. They were standing in a dwarven-made room of the same coloured stone as had been used at the hearth. The structure looked ancient; the stone blocks were aged and stained, and the surface ran with water from the surrounding earth.

“What is this place?” Elrohir asked unsurely, the structure unsettled him greatly.

“It’s a tomb.” Elladan whispered in reply, feeling his brother shudder in response.

“Let us go to our tasks.” Elladan stated, attempting to pull his brother from the ghosts in his mind.

“Are you well enough?”

“I am fine, “Elladan answered with a smile, leaning forward to kiss a clean patch of skin on Elrohir’s cheek before pulling out of the protective support.

Elrohir narrowed his eyes as he watched how Elladan moved, still gingerly, he thought, but better. He watched him until he had disappeared through the doorway to the inner caves with a torch in his hand before turning to drag the first body out of the tomb.

Elladan lit torches as he went, brightening the passageway he had entered, illuminating the doorways to the small chambers to either side.

The first chamber was empty; a casket stood against the far wall, its heavy stone lid lay in shatters upon the floor. Stealing his nerves Elladan crossed the room, the torch in his hand throwing dancing light and shadows across the walls. He illuminated the open casket.

It was empty.

Sighing in relief, he turned back to the corridor and entered the next chamber. The sound of boots scuffing upon the stone floor was his only warning as his torch was hit from his hand; his reaction was instinctive, and the orc fell backwards at the blow, to writhe upon the floor. Elladan ended the foul creature’s life quickly.

“E’dan?!” Elrohir’s fevered call echoed through the stone crypt.

‘I am well,’ he soothed, using mind speak, not trusting his voice to be steady enough to reassure. He felt Elrohir sigh in relief through their bond.

This room had been used as a living space by the orcs he surmised. There were tattered rags upon the floor, grass used as makeshift bedding, and a foul stench that suggested unsanitary habits.

Moving on, he entered the next chamber and as soon as the light hit the contents of this room. He staggered backwards, his hand coming up to shield his mouth and nose, his eyes wide in alarm. The stench was unbearable; this was a chamber of death. It was here he found the contents of the empty casket and others besides, and not all the bodies lying here were long dead. Unable to stomach this hall, he turned towards the room at the end of the passageway.

The final chamber was well lit and large and he dropped the torch into an empty sconce as he passed. He scanned the long narrow space; there were closed caskets along both walls, and life sized statues stood in battle dress between them as if on guard.

It was then he caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, and whirled about with his sword at the ready. He lowered his weapon as the source of the movement became apparent and he walked forward, kicking a wooden crate across the floor with him.

Suspended by bound wrists from a battle ready statue of an aging man, a small blindfolded boy wriggled. Elladan moved forward quickly, pushing the crate beneath the feet of the captive to take the pressure off the child’s wrists. As he moved to undo the bindings that held the boy aloft, the boy growled and spat at him. Dropping backwards a pace, Elladan wiped at his face.

“You shouldn’t spit at your rescuer, boy, it’s not nice.” He drawled in the common tongue and the boy stilled briefly before wriggling feverishly once more. Elladan reached out and slid the blindfold from the child’s eyes.

Watery blue eyes blinked in the sudden light then fixed on him in undisguised terror.

“Easy, boy. I’m not going to hurt you,” Elladan reassured. “Now hold still while I release you.”

The child stilled as Elladan took his knife to the bindings.

The boy rubbed his wrists as his arms came loose, standing on the crate staring at his champion with undisguised awe and curiosity. But Elladan didn’t seem to notice as he looked the boy over, checking for injury. “Are you hurt?”

The child shook his head.

“Good.” Elladan sat on the edge of the statue’s pedestal to bring himself down to the boy’s level. “Can you tell me how you came to be here?” he asked gently.

The boy stared at him intently for a long moment. “What are you?”

“I am an elf,” he replied with a hint of amusement, “and what are you?”

The child looked confused. “I’m a boy.” He answered after a pause, not looking at all sure.

After a moment longer he added, “I am Dúnedain.”

“Are you indeed!” Elladan smiled as the child flushed scarlet at his amusement. “That makes us allies. What is your name young ranger?”

“Halbarad,” he answered shyly. “Halbarad, the younger.”

“I am Elladan. Now tell me, young Halbarad, how it is you came to be tied to this statue.”

The boy moved to sit upon the crate suddenly looking quite at ease.

“I was picking crab apples for my Ma in the far field when I was snatched. They laid me out I think,” he said, rubbing his head. “And the next thing I know, you are here.”

Elladan nodded solemnly. “You were alone?”

The boy nodded, “But there are other prisoners here, I heard crying,” he stated definitely.

“I found no others, are you sure?”

“Aye mister, I’m certain, the sounds came through the wall.” The boy pointed at the wall behind the statue, and Elladan shivered, knowing what it was that lay beyond that wall.

“E’dan?”

Elladan looked up as Elrohir appeared in the doorway, knives in hand. The boy’s eyes grew wide in fear once more and he moved closer to his champion.

“Do not fear young Halbarad,” Elladan whispered. “He is monstrous, I know.” Elrohir cocked a brow and glared at him for the teasing comment. “But he is my brother and will not hurt you.”

The boy thought that silly, the elf in the doorway was fairer than a maiden, every bit as fair as his champion. He looked between the two. “You look the same,” he stated. “If he is considered monstrous, would you not be considered monstrous too?”

Elrohir laughed, “I like this boy, brother. Will you not introduce us?”

Elladan smiled depreciatingly, “Halbarad, this is my brother, Elrohir.”

“El’ir, this is Halbarad the younger, a ranger out of the North.”

Elrohir cocked a brow.

“Would you see our young friend here to the mouth of this den, and point him in the right direction for home? There is something I must attend to.”

Elrohir nodded once, and the boy moved to his side.

As an afterthought, Elladan called out, “Halbarad, catch.”

The boy caught the purse deftly, and grinned.

“May the gods bless you Mister!”

Elladan nodded once as Elrohir herded the boy out of the room, hoping that the boy’s blessing would see him through his unenviable task.

-

With a scarf laced with lavender oil tied about his nose and mouth and two torches in his hands, he entered the chamber of death once more. He set one torch in an empty stone urn by the door, and used the other to scan the room.

He saw no movement at all amongst the debris and was just at the point of giving up on the search when he heard it, a chocked sob, little more than a whimper, it came from right by the door. He moved swiftly back towards the passageway scanning the ground and the walls, and it was then he saw the movement.

He moved quickly to the far side of the solid pedestal that supported the urn, and fell to his knees before the dirty form slumped there.

The figure was bound hand to foot and gagged, and was curled as far into the corner as was possible. He felt for a pulse, and though the skin felt cold as death against his fingers, there was life there. He pushed back the soiled dark locks assuming that this was a human female, though when an ear was uncovered so was the truth, this was no man, this was an elf.

Elrohir had just sent the boy on his way, when the anguished scream echoed through his head. Though they were capable of doing so, the twins did not often use mind speak as it tended to unbalance them and this time was no exception. Elrohir stumbled at the weight of that call and the utter despair in it. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the tomb as fast as his legs would allow.

He entered the main hall where they had made their stand and Elrohir realised that Elladan was not only screaming for him in mind speak but in actuality as well, he drew his knives as he flew down the passageway, pulling himself up short at the entrance to the doorway that had been darkened earlier.

He went in heedless of the stench, to see that Elladan was crouched over a body right by his feet.

“He needs a healer, El’ir.” His brother’s voice was but a whimper, his face was twisted in distress and tears had escaped his eyes wetting the cloth about his face.

In an instant Elrohir became the healer that his father’s training had made. He urged his brother to move aside and went to work assessing the damage.

-

“There are no others. Are you sure it is safe to move him?”

Elrohir glanced at him and then at their surroundings. “We have no choice.”

Elladan nodded solemnly as he watched his brother wrap the injured elf securely in his cloak before he moved forward to pick him up.

“Don’t you dare!” Elrohir exclaimed. “I am healer to you both, and you are in no fit state to carry anything heavier than your pack!”

With those stern words, Elrohir lifted the elf into his arms.

-

“You ain’t coming in here in that state and with that stench; this is a clean establishment, this is!” The ruddy faced woman stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

Elrohir gave her a look, inherited from his father, which could wither the leaders of great nations, but still the innkeeper held her ground.

“And did I not let the room to two? Do not think to sneak a third by me and settle for two, this smacks of something unnatural, it does.” She shook her head and wagged a finger at them, and Elladan began to shake with a kind of detached mirth that his father would likely call hysteria.

“And you, Lucy, are the most inhospitable Innkeeper in the land!”

The crowd of local men at the bar parted to let through a middle aged man dressed in the garb of a ranger. “Given the service that these two fine Lords have afforded us this day, I call you an ungrateful wretch!”

The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of all as the red haired man moved to stand before the elves.

He bowed low. “My Lords, I am Halbarad, Ranger of the North.” He spoke in the elven tongue and Elladan dared to hope that this argument would soon be at an end.

“The elder, I presume,” Elrohir stated dryly; his arms were beginning to ache from their burden and his temper was shortening by the minute.

“Harad, help them.” A sandy haired youth stepped forward from the crowd and offered his arms to Elrohir who looked at the ranger and the boy suspiciously.

“This is my eldest son, Harad; upon my honour, he will not harm your charge.”

Elladan put a hand upon his brother’s shoulder and Elrohir relented, passing the injured elf into the arms of the boy.

Halbarad took a step forward, “My home and hearth are yours and my wife a fine cook. You will all be welcome.” The ranger paused to glare at the Innkeeper who still stood .defiantly at the base of the stairs. “Whatever you need is yours for the taking.”

Elladan could feel the tension coming off of his brother in waves and having composed himself to an extent, he accepted the ranger’s offer for them both with as much grace as he could muster.

“Barad, fetch the bags down from the room.” A familiar young boy moved forward, pausing to grin at the elves before racing up the stairs.

-

“Be welcome here, my Lords!!” The fair haired woman exclaimed as the weary elves approached the brightened doorway of the small holding. She moved forward to her son that still held the limp figure in his arms like a precious treasure.

She nodded a greeting at the two dark haired elves that stood but a pace behind, and pulled back the corner of the cloak that covered the face of the injured elf, her eyes widening in alarm.

“Mercy me!! This one’s sick, take him through to the hearth at once, Harad. Hal set up a cot there.” When the red haired man did not move at once, she scowled. “Go to!”

Halbarad rolled his eyes, “My Lords, may I present my dear wife, Rhian.” Motioning towards the door where three young girls hovered, “And my girls, Tessie, Mave and Elena.”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Hal, not when our guests are needing the comfort of a warm hearth. Get moving, Harad. This one can ill afford to be out on such a cold night.”

Elrohir was grateful for the woman’s orders, for he would not be content till their injured charge was warm, clean and treated. He followed the boy, Harad, towards the door; then, as if remembering his manners, paused.

“I apologise for our state, My Lady, and for the stench of us.”

Rhian waved off his comment. “’Tis nothing a little water won’t fix Milord, and we are well used to the state of fightin’ men.” She gestured towards her husband who had slipped past them into the house. “I’d call it a small price to pay for a life. Now in you go, young Lords.” She shooed the brothers into the house.

-

Tessie stood over the cot with a look of deep concentration on her face, and her hands balled in the apron that protected the front of her dress. Swiping back the ginger curls that had fallen into her face, she looked at the elf that was perched on the side of the cot rubbing an ointment into the bruised wrists.

“Is he awake?” she whispered like one who knows they aren’t suppose to be making any noise at all.

Elladan looked up at the six year old and shook his head. “He’s sleeping,” he said mildly. Truth was, the elf was unconscious and had been so throughout their ministration. The elf now lay in front of the fire in a borrowed sleeping robe and wrapped in warm blankets, with his injuries seen to. Though it was clear that the elf had endured much, his injuries seemed minor. But still Elrohir was worried, and this told Elladan that there was more wrong here than was apparent.

“He has pretty eyes,” Tessie spoke again in admiration.

And for the first time Elladan really looked at the elf’s eyes and had to admit that the child was right. Perfectly almond shaped, and the colour of dark hazel they gazed up into space in that glazed way that signified reverie, the firelight causing them to come alive with dancing gold, and Elladan could imagine those same eyes alive with amusement.

Elrohir’s return broke Elladan’s musings as he held out a small flask. “I am loath to say it, but we must use this sparingly, it is all we have left.”

Elladan nodded once, uncapping the flask and easing a small amount of the liquid into the mouth of the darkling elf.

-

Rhian watched her husband leaning against the door frame to the living space, fiddling with the hem of his tunic, knowing him well enough to know what such fidgeting meant; she crossed over from the sink in the kitchen area to put her arms about his waist. “You’re worried?”

“Aye, aye I am at that.” He paused to place a kiss atop her head.

“I don’t think you should be, love. I’ve seen you come home with worse injuries than the young one sports. He’ll heal right enough in time.”

“I’m not so sure of that. The younger twin, Elrohir has his father’s gift for healing it seems, but I can see he is worried,” he shook his head. “Still, it is the twins that worry me more.”

Rhian looked at her husband curiously. “But they are well enough, are they not?”

“Aye in body perhaps, but this, this smacks too much of what happened to their Ma, if the young one should die, Rhi? Can you not see how they will not leave the lad’s side, how they will accept no help with him? They lost their Ma, Rhi, and not so long ago for an elf either. I wonder who it is they see when they look at him?”

Rhian’s brow knit in thought. “We should keep a close eye on them I think.”

-

“Elena dear, do stop gawking and take these to the table.”

Her oldest daughter scowled and picked up the dish of boiled potatoes. Rhian watched her go with a roll of her eyes and a mutter under her breath; there was going to be at least one broken heart in her home when this visit was over. Not that she could blame the child. The elves were uncommonly fair, and comparing them to the farm boys that she was used to dallying with, it was little wonder they had turned her head.

-

Barad chattered excitedly as they took seats about the hefty wooden table, the twins taking the positions to the left and right of Hal at the end of the table, and the two older girls next to them.

“’Tis simple fare, Milords…nothing so fancy as I’m sure you are used to,” Rhian stated contritely. “But wholesome, nonetheless.” She took a seat and waved a hand for each to serve themselves.

“My dear Lady,” Elladan replied mildly, “for two wanderers that have lived on naught but salted meats and dry biscuits for weeks if not longer, this is a welcome feast.”

Rhian blushed at Elladan’s words and Elrohir wondered how his grandmother would feel about her prized elven waybread being described as dry biscuits. It was only because of this thought that Elrohir was watching his brother from across the table, and he saw the grimace of pain on his face when he reached for the potatoes.

“Are you alright, lad?” Hal was the first to ask.

Simultaneously, Elrohir dropped his spoon, at that moment realizing the extent of his failing.

“Valar E’dan!” With an apologetic look at his hosts, Elrohir rose, “Would you excuse us, I need to bind Elladan’s ribs.”

“Aye, of course,” Hal stated as he rose.

“Can I help?” Elena looked up at him bright eyed.

Elrohir ignored his brother’s glare and slight shake of his head. “Thank you Elena, I would appreciate your assistance.”

Elladan continued to glare at him as they made their way to the bedchamber they had been assigned, with Elena following a few paces behind.

“You know I can’t do this without assistance,” Elrohir hissed in response to his brother’s hostile look.

“I’m sure Hal or Harad would have helped.” Elladan’s comment withered at the slight shake of Elrohir’s head as they entered the bedchamber with Elena just a pace behind them.

“How did you change your tunic by yourself?”

“Carefully.”

Elrohir sighed at the snapped response, feeling guilty at having ignored his brother’s needs in favour of the injured elf.

Sensing his mortification, Elladan reached out and touched Elrohir’s hand, locking eyes with him for a moment. “You did the right thing; his needs were greater than mine.”

Elrohir nodded once. “Help me get his tunic off?” He waved the girl over and she settled behind where Elladan was seated on the bed.

Discarding the tunic, Elrohir took in the full extent of his brother’s injury and the vivid discolouration of his upper chest and side.

“Lie back?”

Elena scooted out of the way as he did so, blushing furiously; she took a seat by the door and watched as Elrohir carefully felt along each rib, leaning over his brother’s body so intimately that she could almost imagine him leaning down and kissing him passionately. She shook her head abruptly, allowing her sandy coloured hair to fall in front of her face to conceal the blush of her cheeks.

Elladan’s face was turned towards his brother and their eyes were locked as Elrohir continued his examination. He flinched only once that Elena could tell.

“Only one break,” Elrohir stated urging him to sit once more, “but you’re going to be sore for a few days, the bruising is deep.”

Elladan nodded once as Elrohir waved the girl over once more, directing her to sit behind his brother as she had done earlier. He rose from the bed to fetch a small lidded pot from his pack and Elena could feel the heat radiating from the bare-chested elf sitting before her and longed to reach out and run a hand down that broad back. She blushed again and kept her hands balled in her skirts to still the urge.

After spreading a generous amount of the ointment onto Elladan’s chest, he handed the pot to the girl. She blushed furiously at his direction and Elrohir could not help the smile that touched his lips. It seemed that his brother had an admirer.

Elladan’s skin felt like the finest satin beneath her fingers as she rubbed the salve into the purple bruises of his side and back, her heart beating fast within her breast and a slight sheen fuelled by desire at this intimate act touching her skin.

“I think that will do.” She halted her ministrations at once at Elrohir’s words, a slight look of relief upon her face as he handed her one end of the binding.

He moved her hand to rest against Elladan’s chest so that she was embracing him from behind “Hold on tight, I will need to pull quite tightly against your hand.”

Elena nodded once, she had assisted in binding her father’s ribs once before and was aware of the process needed. But she had to admit that this felt quite different to her, to be all but embracing this beautiful being, and feeling his heart beating strongly under her hand. She blushed, willing herself not to swoon, as she could not bear that embarrassment; but after only a moment, Elrohir had finished and she careful slipped her fingers out from beneath the bindings.

“Would you tell your parents that we will be out in just a moment?”

Recognising that she was being dismissed Elena gave a bobbed curtsey and slipped out of the door without another word.

“Sweet child,” Elrohir muttered as he neatened the end of the bindings. “She’s quite taken with you, you know?”

Elladan snorted. “And she has none but you to blame for that, brother. What am I to do with a fawning girl?”

Elrohir cocked a brow. “You cannot hide your charms so easily, lover, she’d have been lost eventually. Do you want something for the pain?”

“Later, right now I wish to feel your lips against mine.”

“And in that I am happy to oblige, lover, though we should not be long. We are keeping this family from their meal.”

-

Elrohir fussed over the elf laid out on the cot by the fire. He checked his pulse, and felt for fever before finally uncovering one of the legs. Unwrapping the bindings, his brow knit in a frown as his eyes scanned the wound and his fingers felt the skin about the gash.

Behind him the family had settled into what must be a well established routine.

Barad sat at his twin’s feet trying to engage him in a conversation about hunting, with Harad perched upon a bench nearby listening intently.

The girl Mave was curled up in an arm chair with a worn book upon her lap by the table which was empty now save for the candle that illuminated her reading. Elena sat to one side of her, gazing with moonstruck eyes towards her brothers and their guest.

Rhian rested by the hearth with her knitting keeping a watchful eye on the scene, and her husband was at her side with the youngest girl Tess, losing the battle with sleep, draped over his lap.

“You look worried, lad,” Hal said quietly as Elrohir changed the bindings, and the look that the twin gave him in reply caused the man to sigh and shake his head slightly.

-

When the occupants in front of the hearth had whittled down to Hal, his wife and the middle girl Mave, and Elladan had moved to a chair closer to the fire where Elrohir knelt by the cot side, Rhian rose.

“My Lords, I believe it is time for you to retire.”

Two sets of grey eyes looked at each other and then at her as if she had run mad. “Lady Rhian, we will be keeping our charge company through the night.” Elladan spoke in his most persuasive voice.

“You will not, young Lords, and I’ll have no argument.” Hal had the grace to look at the two with sympathy and a shrug but he clearly did not intend to intervene. “My Mave is apprenticed to the village healer and both myself and Hal know well enough what to look for should the lad’s condition change. You both need rest, not least you, Lord Elladan, your injuries need the respite. And you, Lord Elrohir, look about ready to drop from worry, it will all seem brighter in the morning, and your charge is safe enough in our care.”

The twins looked at each other, Elladan shrugging slightly during their unspoken communication. “You will wake me at once should his condition change?” Elrohir asked defeated.

“Aye we will, you have my word,” Hal answered.

Satisfied, Elladan rose and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he fussed over the injured elf one last time before rising.

-

“These are good people,” Elladan stated as he moved into the bed, mindful of his injuries. He allowed himself the luxury of watching his brother strip off his clothing, each discarded item falling carelessly to the floor and he wondered how long it had been since he had lain with his lover’s naked skin against his own; far too long, his mind and body decided. By the time Elrohir slipped into the bed he was already hard with longing and half remembered memories of their bedchamber in Imladris with its feather bed and clean linen sheets.

“Aye they are.” Elrohir replied, producing a familiar looking root and dragging it across Elladan’s lips coquettishly.

“You don’t play fair,” Elladan hissed, grimacing as the bitter medicine was popped skilfully into his mouth as soon as his lips parted.

“It will help you sleep,” Elrohir demurred looking offended. “Perhaps I can make it up to you,” he added, allowing a hand to stroke his brother’s thigh, just close enough to leave no doubt as to his intentions.

Elladan sighed, closing his eyes. And encouraged, Elrohir whipped off the quilt in one sure move. The cold air hit their skin like a sensuous kiss and made Elladan moan low in his throat.

“Can I trust you to be quiet in your release? I do not wish to be run off with pitch-forks for unnatural acts.”

Elladan chuckled, as Elrohir settled between his legs, and raised a hand. “Upon my honour, brother.”

“And you will tell me if you are in pain?”

“Elrohir?” His twin looked up at him with a grin at the warning plea, and made a great play of considering his task, his eyes scanning the body beneath him with salacious eyes.

Elladan watched him through hooded eyes and his length twitched under his lover’s scrutiny. He gasped as a tongue snaked out to lick at the beads of moisture gathered at the tip, while those deft hands stroked his thighs. He strained to watch as that tongue dipped down into the slit, his brother’s eyes were closed and his hands splayed out over his stomach, as if bowed down in worship, before his head rose once more and those silver grey eyes that he adored fixed upon him.

Elrohir tucked his hair behind his ears, and licked his lips slowly, salaciously, and Elladan feared that he would spill right there under the weight of that hungry gaze.

He felt his heart lurch in his chest as Elrohir bowed down once more, the pulled back hair curtaining the vision of his brother taking the tip of his length into his mouth, and he groaned. A hand teased at the sensitive soft flesh between his legs and another rolled his sacs as he was swallowed to the hilt. His head hit the pillow as a wave of intense pleasure washed over him, and the feeling of the tip of his length hitting the back of his brother’s throat caused stars to dance behind his closed eyelids. He raised his head enough to see that Elrohir was swallowing him repeatedly like a starving man, his eyes fixing on him with each upward sweep and Elladan could feel the tension building in his sacs with each move and that sight of his beloved prone before him, and he could not help the thrusting of his hips and the pants that escaped his throat as he entered Elrohir’s mouth.

Elrohir released him to crawl up his body, and those deft lips kissed his passionately. He could taste the salt of his own seed within the other’s mouth and that tongue took his breath away as he ran his hands over his beloved’s skin, his hands finding their way to his brother’s backside, and his finger dipping down to brush against his entrance. Elrohir squirmed as he applied a little pressure, not entering but teasingly close, and his lover whimpered, pulling away, to nuzzle at the skin of his neck.

“You are in no state to take me, lover, though I crave it, give yourself time to heal and let me please you instead.”

Elladan whimpered pitifully as Elrohir moved back down his body and took his still hardened length between his lips without preamble. And Elladan lay back as the pleasure within him grew, as he felt his beloved’s tongue wrap around him and the tip touched the back of Elrohir’s throat time after time, to explode in a series of dancing stars, with his hand covering his mouth to stifle his cry of release.

He felt every muscle in his body relax, leaving him boneless as Elrohir worked his way up to his side to curl against him with his head resting gently on his uninjured side.

“I love you, El’ir.” he sighed, feeling reverie tugging at him and his brother raised his head to look at him.

Elrohir leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss, his eyes warm with love. “And I love you, beloved, but now to sleep.”

Reaching out he snuffed the candle and curled into his brother’s side once more.

-

He could smell the lavender oil from the cloth tied about his face, and could feel the weight of the torch in his hand.

Opening his eyes he looked over this chamber of death, his stomach revolting at the view. The torch lit up unimaginable horrors as he searched the chamber and then he heard it, that whimper in the dark. Moving forward swiftly, he illuminated the figure that sat slouched against the wall, wrists shackled to the stonework, and head bowed, the dark hair falling to obscure the figure’s features.

He fell to his knees; the stone floor grazed his skin, yet he did not feel it. Placing the torch to one side, he took the fallen figure’s head between his hands and pushed back the soiled hair that obscured the face.

“Naneth,” He whimpered. The hair in truth was not black as pitch, but soiled blonde, the well loved features slack and bruised. He screamed out his anguish.

Elrohir woke at once at the tortured cry that reached him through the bond, but he awoke to silence. Elladan sat bolt upright on the bed and he scrambled with flint to get the candle lit. And still his brother sat, without moving a hair.

“Brother?”

Silence.

Fear crept into Elrohir’s heart as he manoeuvred himself into a position where he could see his beloved’s face. And his heart ached to see the tear stained cheeks and wide fearful eyes.

“Elladan, E’dan please answer me?” He reached out to touch his cheek and his brother flinched away from that touch.

This was not the first time that Elrohir had been awakened in the night to find his brother half crazed with anguish, nor would it be the last. Their mother’s capture, imprisonment, and the twins’ part in her eventual rescue haunted them. Never again after that time did they hear their mother sing or laugh, all joy was taken from her and her subsequent departure to Valinor had been a desperate attempt to heal her.

Elrohir sighed; how often had he awakened his brother with similar dreams? How he wished he could ease Elladan’s mind. How could it be that the greatest Elven healer in Middle Earth and his son could not purge themselves and their loved ones of such festering hurts?

Caught in some twilight realm, Elladan looked pale and shaken in the flickering candlelight and Elrohir wrapped his arms about him, offering some small measure of comfort and encouraged him to lie back once more.

“El?”

Elrohir tightened his embrace, “I’m here,” he murmured reassuringly. “I’m here E’dan.”

Elladan sighed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was the same dream, but…” Elladan paused in his whispering. “There was the smell of lavender oil and her hair was dark. Is he dead, El’ir?”

Elrohir shuddered; this was a recurring dream that plagued his brother, one based around the moment they had found their mother’s damaged frame in the dungeons of that long abandoned keep. He was not blind to the similarities between the rescue that they had made today and his mother’s fate. That Elladan assumed the rescued one dead did not bode well. Though neither twin had inherited their father’s gift of foresight in its entirety they were both prone to seeing flashes of what might be, and he had long since learned to heed such premonitions.

“He is not dead, beloved, we would have been awakened.”

Elladan turned his head to look at him then. “He must not die El’ir. He is us as we are him, he must not die. We must not fail him.”

Elrohir shuddered once more. “He will be well, he will be well,” he soothed, his worry over the darkling elf pushing to the fore once more. He sent off a wordless plea to the Valar for those words to be true. ”I shall go check on him, will you be well?”

Elladan nodded, though it was clear that they would get no more rest this night.

“Does your injury trouble you?”

Elladan shook his head as Elrohir pulled on his leggings. Shrugging on his jerkin he looked towards the bed once more but his brother was turned away. No doubt feigning sleep, he thought with a sigh, before he slipped out of the door.

-

The fire still burned brightly in the hearth as Elrohir approached. The man Hal sat hunched over the elf that lay prone and unmoving upon the cot. He looked up as Elrohir moved into the light, his brow knit in worry.

“My Lord! I thought to wake you, for his condition worsens.” There was a brief flash of relief as the man realised he would be saved from disturbing their guests before he turned once more to his task, wiping the perspiration from the injured elf’s brow.

“How long has his temperature been so raised?” Elrohir demanded, his hands reaching out to check on his pulse.

“It has been growing steadily since I started my watch, an hour of so I’d say, but gradually. He woke during Rhian’s watch, asking for water, which she gave.”

Elrohir interrupted him, “Did he ask for water in the common tongue?”

“Nay, in your tongue Lord, my wife knows a little.” At Elrohir’s cocked brow, he explained. “When we was courting, she liked to have me speak in your tongue, some womanly notion of romance I’d say, but it’s of no matter. As I said, she knows only a few words; she roused me at once, but the lad had fallen into dreams again. I’m sorry.”

Elrohir nodded once, and uncovered the elf’s leg once more. He hissed as he undid the bindings and the livid wound was uncovered.

“The infection grows worse,” he muttered under his breath, as Hal looked over his shoulder with a concerned look upon his face.

“If this man were my patient, I’d take a saw to that leg afore the infection kills him.”

Elrohir rebound the wound and sat heavily into one of the hearth chairs.

“If this patient were a man I’d agree with you, but he is not a man. If I take off his leg he might live but he would never heal. Legs cannot be regrown, he would be without it for all eternity. It would be kinder to let him die, I think.”

“I cannot say that I understand that logic,” Hal said depreciatingly as he handed him a cup of tea.

Elrohir gave him a slight smile as he took the cup from him.

“I am not the healer that my father is,” he stated quietly with a shake of his head. “He should be showing signs of improvement by now. I fear this wound has festered too long.”

“What will you do?” Hal asked quietly.

“We will ride for Imladris and our father.” Elrohir’s eyes snapped up to where his brother had appeared by the mantel and stood gazing down at the wounded elf.

“Do you not think so, El’ir?” he asked, bending down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind the darkling elf’s ear before looking to his twin.

Elrohir sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Aye, aye, there is no other course.”

“Will he survive the journey? ‘Tis a month, if not more to your lands from here, My Lords.”

“Elladan looked into the man’s concerned face. “We can make the journey in a fortnight at most, I think. What do you say, brother?”

“Aye, the weather willing, and there is no hope for him at all unless we get him to our father’s hands, I fear. If we dally here, he will die.”

-

Barad appeared in the doorway. “Harad has brought the horses from the inn.”

Rhian frowned as the two elves rose as one from where they had been seated at the table, picking half-heartedly at the breakfast she had provided. Shaking her head, she moved back into the kitchen area and picked up the pack from the side board.

When she returned the twins were bundling up the injured elf in blankets ready for travel. He wore the warmest of the clothing that Elladan had to spare, and his brother’s cloak.

“Cheese, bread and late apples,” Rhian said as she held out the pack to Elladan who took it gratefully with a slight bow.

“Have a care of your injuries, young Lord, and see to it that you take the time to eat,” she stated with an authoritative gaze. Elladan smiled slightly and gave a nod of his head before handing the food parcel to Barad who hovered by his side.

“Don’t go fussing them, Rhi,” Hal admonished as he entered through the front door.

“Your horses stand ready, My Lords.”

A flurry of activity followed Hal’s words; Elrohir checked the bindings once more and rearranged the blankets as Elladan had quiet words with Rhian who had Tess at her side.

“Would you?” Elrohir asked, and Hal nodded at once stepping forward to lift the injured elf.

The two chestnut stallions stood with gleaming coats in the dawn light and Harad was tending them with the reins in his hand.

Elladan moved forward to check the horses tack as Mave appeared at Elrohir’s side with a small pouch in her hand. “It’s not much I know,” she stated shyly, “but perhaps you will find a use for it?”

Elrohir opened the linen pouch and smiled broadly. “Bless you, child.” The herbs contained within would go a long way to replenishing his supplies; he lifted her chin with his hand to meet her eye. “Thank you.”

Mave’s freckled cheeks flushed at the attention but as soon as Elrohir dropped his hand she faded backwards to join her sister by the door.

Once mounted, Hal stepped forward passing the darkling elf into Elrohir’s care and he took a long moment to arrange the elf before him.

Exchanging words of parting with the family that stood by the door, the two older girls huddled together with the younger girl at her mother’s side. Harad still waited by the front of Elrohir’s horse and Barad by Elladan’s side.

The twins where surprised to see that the man Hal had mounted, and at their concerned looks, he explained, “I will ride with you as far as the next village if you have no objection; I have business there with the tanner.”

Elrohir looked a little irritated by that, obviously keen to move on swiftly, but Elladan smiled his acquiescence.

“You need not look so, Lord Elrohir; my Starlight will not slow you down.” He patted the neck of his grey, who snorted in agreement.

Elrohir had the grace to look reproached as they led their horses out of the yard and down the lane.

-

“Can you imagine living like that?” Elladan asked wistfully, lying back against his pack in the darkened clearing where they had made their camp. “A simple life, but one untroubled by diplomatic negotiations, that family seemed so content.”

Elrohir looked up from where he was seated upon the ground grinding herbs. “I don’t know, it does have its appeal, but those were good people. I daresay that not all men live so well and you know as well as I that not all men would take our elven appearance so kindly. That brings with it its own problems, problems that Halbarad does not face.”

“You’re right, of course, but I think that if we were to choose a mortal life I would like it to be very much like that.”

Elrohir snorted, “Where do you propose to get all those children from, lover?” he demurred with a look of amusement. “Planning on taking a concubine?”

Elladan chuckled, “I never said that my plan did not have its flaws!”

Elrohir snorted again in amusement as he moved to where the injured elf lay upon the ground with a cloak rolled up beneath his head.

“How is he?”

“He’s sick E’dan, and while I’m certain that I can keep him alive till we get home using my gift, the longer I leave it before I start to use it,” Elrohir paused to give his brother a dark look. “The less likely it will be that I can keep his symptoms under control. I’m not as good at this as Ada, and you know that.”

Elladan sighed, “It weakens you too much, love, and while I am not able to protect the two of you as I should, it does not make sense to have the only sure blade between us weakened.”

“I accept that logic, but I am barely keeping him afloat as it is. I fear that by dawn we will have no choice.”

“What will be, will be, but with each hour that passes my injury grows easier, by dawn my bruises will have healed enough, and the bone will not be so far behind.”

“Your rib will still be weak when we ride through the gates of home as well you know,” Elrohir warned. “This travelling will keep it from healing as it should.”

“’Tis a small price to pay if we can save his life, the bone will heal in time. Get some rest El’ir, I will stand guard.”

Elrohir nodded once, curling up beside the darkling elf to warm them both.

Elladan settled more comfortably against his pack, stretching his senses to their limits to guard their camp. After a time he rose to his knees to throw another branch upon the fire and he looked over to where his brother slept with a soft smile gracing his lips, and his heart swelled with love for him. The darkling elf had thrashed the cover from his face and his pallid complexion and uneasy features seemed stark in the darkness.

He leaned back down again, and somewhere an owl hooted in the cool winter night. Sitting there, Elladan considered the darkling elf’s features. The twins had met many an elf upon their travels and he searched for some recognition of that face. The elf’s skin was ashen, paler now than it should be in its fevered state but Elladan surmised that the elf would be considered pale even when well. His features were fine and rather noble in appearance, handsome even; but it was those eyes that drew him and held his eyes to that face. Such a contrast those dark eyes were to the pale skin, and hair of pitch. Aye, he was quite striking, Elladan decided. He was quite exotic, but he did not know that face.

-

It was an hour before dawn that Elrohir stirred, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. He raised his head to see that Elladan still sat across from the fire humming quietly and polishing the metal decorations upon his scabbard.

“His fever is constant, and I managed to get a full capful of water into him and a little soaked lembas. He has murmured some, but has not awakened.”

Elrohir nodded once at his brother’s report, untangling himself from the blankets and manoeuvring himself into a position where he could take in his patient’s state.

“His temperature is still too high,” Elrohir stated with a hint of frustration in his voice as he bent to uncover the bindings upon the leg.

“Valar! E’dan we have no choice, if I don’t start using my gift now, he will lose this leg even if we do get him to Ada in time to save his life.”

Elladan crawled over to where his twin was examining the wound, and gasped at that angry wound that had blackened and, to Elladan’s eyes, seemed infinitely larger than it had just the morning before.

“I can manage a blade,” Elladan stated definitely, nodding as Elrohir looked at him doubtfully.

“Just give me a piece of that offensive root and do what you must.” He ordered.

Elrohir nodded once, having no choice but to agree.

As Elladan set about making a breakfast of cheese and bread and heated water above the fire for tea, Elrohir cleaned the wound as best he could. Kneeling before the elf he placed a hand on each side of the wound and concentrated on sending his own healing strength to the wound. He met with some resistance and pushed against whatever natural defences the elf still had until he could feel that healing energy flow from one hand to the other. The darkling elf moaned and twisted in his unconsciousness but eventually stilled, falling into a light sleep.

“That’s enough.” Elladan took hold of his shoulders pulling his hands away from the elf’s legs and severing the connection.

“E’dan, he needs more than a few scant minutes! If I cannot…” His protestations died in his throat as he saw that the camp was cleared and the horses stood ready. He shook his head, turning his eyes to the wound once more, dismayed to see so little change in its appearance.

“Eat,” Elladan stated, shoving a plate into his twin’s hands just as he was finishing the clean bindings. When Elrohir had received instruction on the use of his gift, Elrond had not been remiss in teaching his twin how to care for one with such an aptitude. He knew that Elrohir would lose all sense of time, draining himself to the point of exhaustion without even realising it, given half a chance.

Elrohir took the plate from him with a growl and proceeded to shove pieces of apple into his mouth wearily and with no enthusiasm.

“We must get moving.”

Elladan looked up at his brother’s words. “We can spare the time, if you would like to bathe first?”

-

Elrohir sat with his back against a tree keeping watch, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes scanning the night’s camp. As they had travelled, the weather had become colder, and their rest point this night was a sheltered gathering of large and weathered stones by the Langwell, a tributary of the Anduin. They had made good time in the four days since they had left the ranger’s home; in two more days at good speed they would be within sight of the little known pass that would take them from some leagues north of the hidden vale right into the centre of Imladris. Of course, it was little used and virtually unknown for a reason, the pass was precarious even at the height of summer and to take it this close to winter was a risk, but it would cut their journey time by almost half.

Elladan sat in a crook of rocks with the injured elf draped over him, the darkling elf’s head rested upon his brother’s broad chest and they both slept. Elrohir was certain that it had not been his brother’s intention to fall into reverie; he had just finished feeding the elf, a task which he seemed inexplicably skilled at, when the fatigue of taking the watch for three nights straight had overtaken him and the warmth of the injured one had lulled him into sleep.

Elrohir would not wake him, as the two elves looked blissfully content in each others arms and the Valar knew his brother needed the rest. This journey had proved to be trying on them all, the injured elf’s hurts and fever remained constant, held at bay only by the energy that he himself was giving the darkling elf, and he was weaker than he should be as a result. Prolonged use of such a gift was want to eventually prove damaging to the healer but Elladan was stalwart in his insistence that his twin not over stretch himself, and Elrohir had found that most days he was grateful for his brother’s intervention.

The darkling elf shifted in his brother’s arms burying his head into the crook of his neck until comfortable once more and Elrohir had to smile at the picture they made. He wondered absently why it was that he felt no jealousy towards this elf that his lover held so protectively. He tried to tell himself that it was because the elf posed no threat, was not even aware of who held him but he could recall other times when he had felt stirrings of jealousy under similar circumstances, so that could not be it. After a time considering this question, Elrohir decided that it was more pleasant to enjoy the sight than to puzzle over the deeper meanings that his reaction to it presented.

-

The horses moved along at a fair speed one after the other since they had entered the forest that sat at the base of the Hithaeglir Mountains at this point, and that concealed their path into the mountains. Elrohir glanced back to where Elladan followed, the injured elf held securely in front of him like a trussed bundle. It was the incident of yesterday that had resulted in this change, up until then Elrohir had insisted that Elladan and his injuries be unburdened but it was becoming apparent that his own lack of strength was causing a hazard to the darkling elf. It was only Elladan’s sharp eyes that had saved the injured elf from a nasty tumble the previous day as Elrohir had lost the fight against exhaustion and his grip on the elf had slipped. From that moment on Elladan had insisted upon carrying the elf himself and Elrohir shuddered to think how grievous the darkling elf’s injuries might have been had he fallen from his horse at that fast pace.

Mercifully, there was still no sign of snow, though the nights were bitter now and the mornings brought thick frosts.

At Elladan’s call, Elrohir brought his horse to a stand.

“Let us make camp here,” he suggested bringing his mount alongside. “We should be on the mountain path by mid-morning and we should see ourselves well stocked and well-groomed by dawn.”

Elrohir nodded once and dismounted to assist his brother. There would be no chance to bathe upon this trail, and Elrohir already looked forward to the hot springs of Imladris.

-

The horses had been both stalwart and fearless during their four day climb along the narrow ledges barely wide enough for the stallions to traverse. At times the elves had led them over particularly precarious areas, but it was not until the rock path seemed to disappear completely that they became defiant.

Elrohir was speaking to his mount reassuringly, trying to bring back its nerve, as Elladan inched his with a cloak over its eyes along the dangerous pass. The injured elf was tied firmly to the saddle now, still swathed in warm blankets, but trussed now like a prisoner to the saddle for his own safety.

Elladan gave an audible sigh of relief as both he and his horse made it safely to a wider ledge that signalled that the worst was indeed over as his brother followed suit, blinding his mount to the danger it faced and leading it carefully along the ledge.

“One more day and we shall start our descent.”

Elrohir nodded once at his brother’s words, too concerned with his horse to answer.

“We have been fortunate with the weather; I feared that we would have to do this trek on a blanket of snow.”

“Aye, we have at that, we should move on.” Elrohir swayed slightly as he spoke and Elladan stepped forward, ready to catch his brother should he fall.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, glaring at his twin, before taking up his mount’s reigns and guiding him onwards.

Elladan sighed heavily, leading his horse behind Elrohir’s as they continued on.

-

It was late afternoon when Elladan saw his twin slump down over his horse’s neck.

Cursing aloud he brought his own steed to a halt at once and dismounted. The injured elf was still tied to his saddle, so he laid him carefully forward over the horse’s neck and ran down the path to the stallion that still picked its way carefully down the path under no direction.

Having halted the horse, he turned his attention to his twin’s unconscious form with a look of deep concern on his face. Scanning the pathway ahead, he could see that they were only a short distance from a shallow cave in the mountainside where they had often sheltered overnight when using this trail.

He led his brother’s mount along the track, tethering it on a post they had put up many years ago for this purpose, before sliding Elrohir off of his horse and into his arms.

He grinned to see his horse and the unconscious elf appear at the mouth of the cave; a brief look assured him that his freethinking mount could go no further.

Elrohir regained consciousness with a start, only to frown at the situation. “What are you doing?”

“Relieving your mount of his unconscious rider,” Elladan stated deadpan, ignoring his twin’s incredulous stare as he laid him down upon the ground.

He opened his mouth to speak but found no words would come, as his brother turned away from him to tether his own mount and to help the darkling elf from his horse.

“It’s too early to halt, E’dan, we could get in at least another hours travelling before dark.”

His twin gave him a withering look, not even pausing for a moment in his task of unburdening the horses.

-

Elladan threw another log on the fire and crawled over to where his brother had been persuaded to rest, and the darkling elf lay snuggled up against him like a lover.

He felt the elf’s forehead, shaking his head at the temperature that was still too high and that showed no sign of abating. He tried to encourage the elf to turn from his twin’s embrace so that he could put more salve on the deep gouges left by the bindings on the elf’s wrists when he had been restrained. This action brought forth a muffled protest from the darkling elf and a plaintive sigh that he recognised well enough from his brother and that jolted him from his task for a moment.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the two elves lying there. As soon as he had released the darkling elf, he had turned back into Elrohir’s embrace and his twin had moved a hand unconsciously to cradle the elf closer.

Moving a hand Elladan brushed the hair from the darkling elf’s face, the elf’s features were slack in the reverie that his brother’s healing ensured and the dark eyes that he admired, though glazed in sleep seemed to be looking up at Elrohir’s face in adoration.

Gazing upon the two lying there, Elladan was startled to find himself growing aroused at the sight. Disgusted with this reaction, he rose and made his way over to where the horses were tethered and leaned against the cave entrance to gaze out at the dusk. He examined his feelings, trying to work out why it was he was aroused by seeing his twin in another’s arms, and was at a loss; jealousy he would have predicted, but this lust, he shook his head.

His horse nudged at his arm looking for some attention and Elladan obliged him, stroking his mount’s nose absent-mindedly.

“I believe the abstinence in physical pleasures that this journey has demanded of us is taking its toll on me,” he said quietly to his horse. “Is it not natural that I should see myself in that elf’s place? Is it not natural that I should miss the comfort that only my love can give?” He patted the horse’s neck with greater cheer as he turned to go back to his tasks, the horse gazed after him as if unconvinced by his words.

-

With the dawn came snow, fluttering down from the mountain peaks like feathers in the wind. Elladan rose and stretched out the kinks that his watchful position had created, walking over to the cave entrance and the horses that huddled together for warmth.

He sighed heavily as he watched the flakes settle upon the path.

“E’dan?”

“I am here, love.” He turned from the entrance to see that his twin was raising himself from the ground, pausing for a moment to check on the darkling elf, sighing as he did so.

He frowned as Elrohir uncovered the elf’s leg, undoing the bindings automatically in a familiar morning routine.

“Wait!”

Elrohir had enough awareness to look up at his brother’s word, clearly having no idea why Elladan may have stopped him in his actions.

Flopping down beside his twin, Elladan brushed aside his beloved’s hair to get a better look at his drawn features, while his twin looked at him in irritation.

“You are not well enough to use your gift today.”

Elrohir’s eyes widened in disbelief, his brows furrowing in his displeasure. “Don’t be ridiculous, E’dan. I’m quite well enough, a little tired perhaps, but we’ll be mounted for most of the day, and the horses need little direction on this path. I can get some rest while we travel, now that the worst of the trail is behind us. So you need not fret so; this one’s health is of far more importance.”

That Elladan could not deny, but he was becoming increasingly concerned at his brother’s state, he was weaker now than he ever remembered him being before when using his healing abilities, but then Elrohir had never had cause to use his gift over such a long time before without being able to rest between treatments. He shook his head absently, the wound on the elf’s leg was a mess, putrefied skin ringed the gash now, and his brother’s healing energy was clearly the only thing keeping the elf from becoming worse. He considered their situation; they were still two days ride from Imladris, and Elrohir was correct in stating that the trail would become easier from now on.

“Do what you must, but I will be tying you to your saddle.”

Elrohir nodded once, resigned to that fate; he considered it reasonable under the circumstances.

While his twin was sending his healing energy into the darkling elf, Elladan turned his attention to breaking camp, packing away the signs of their passing and loading the horses.

Only the sound of falling pebbles alerted him to the danger.

The horses whickered as the falling snow became falling stones, and Elladan moved at once to untie the horses’ reigns from their tethering post, waving them further into the shelter of the cave mouth.

-

Elladan regained awareness with a confused frown, and rubbing his head, it took him a long moment to orient himself. The horses huddled by the wall looking at him with what could only be described as wide-eyed concern.

Scrambling up, Elladan took note of the carcass of a mountain goat that lay just a few paces from where he stood and the rocks that had fallen from above littering the path. A particularly large piece bore blood and looking at the hand he had used to rub his head, he surmised that it must be his own.

It was then that his thoughts turned to Elrohir and he ran the short distance into the cave to find his twin slumped over the darkling elf, his hands still on the injured elf’s leg.

Cursing aloud, he separated the two, dragging his brother to his own sleeping roll and away from the darkling elf.

Elladan was at a loss as he touched his brother’s face like a lover who fears his beloved one dead and searched his mind for his father’s teachings on this matter.

“In the case of a healer over-reaching himself, there is little that can be done to revive him or her. The best course of action is to tuck them into a warm bed, and keep a watchful eye on them until they replenish their energy reserves enough to heal themselves.”

As his father’s words came back to him he snorted in wry amusement, they were still two days from the nearest bed!

Covering Elrohir’s body with the blankets that had been keeping him warm during the bitterly cold night watch, he turned his attention back to the darkling elf.

Firstly he checked on the wound that seemed considerably better since the healing. Healthier skin had taken the place of a large portion of the putrefied tissue, the elf’s temperature was greatly reduced, and the darkling one seemed to be calm in his reverie for perhaps the first time since his rescue. He took a moment to apply the clean bindings that Elrohir had left to one side.

Then sitting back on his haunches with a sigh as the snow drifted down unhurriedly from the grey skies outside, he considered his options. He had two injured companions now and no healing gift to sustain the darkling elf; he could only pray that his brother’s selfless gift could maintain the elf long enough for him to be delivered into his father’s hands.

He packed up the camp swiftly, pausing only to take the good meat from the dead goat to feed himself over the remaining journey, and to dispose of the carcass. Within the hour, he had the two elves strapped to the two horses, and was leading the caravan of animals down along the mountain ledge once more.

-

Glorfindel was leaning over Melpomaen’s shoulder scanning the upcoming roster that had been laid out in that perfect script that the scribe was famous for.

“Switch the border captain for the house guard captain.”

The scribe glared at the Golden Lord incredulously. “Whatever for?” he asked in irritation.

Glorfindel sighed heavily, “Because the guard’s wife is due to give birth this week or next and he needs to be close at hand.”

Melpomaen tutted loudly in aggravation and Glorfindel could hold his tongue no longer.

“Master Melpomaen, my guards are every bit as entitled to a life outside of their positions as any of your scribes. If you do not wish to accommodate them, then I suggest you find me a scribe that will.” The captain of Imladris’ defences rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “I am exhausted, and I’ll have you remember that it was you that wished me to check over this roster, and it was you that insisted that it be done before I rested after the two week patrol I am just returned from.”

Melpomaen had the grace to look abashed and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment as Glorfindel turned towards the window.

“My Lord Glorfindel, forgive me. I never meant to imply…”

“Be quiet!” Glorfindel snapped, interrupting the scribe’s half baked apology as he stared intently out of the window.

Melpomaen shrank back into his chair, wondering how he had offended the elf now.

Glorfindel saw the horses first and recognised them at once, then he saw that there were bodies trussed to each mount. The snow was falling heavily now, and Glorfindel couldn’t identify the figure that led the two horses for the plain human made cloak and the hood that was pulled over the man’s face against the weather.

“Sweet Manwe, help us!!” he hissed, and Melpomaen looked up at the elf as if he had gone quite mad.

Glorfindel turned about swiftly.

“Go fetch Lord Elrond, at once!” he barked at the young servant that had slipped into the room to stoke the fire.

Melpomaen jumped at the authoritative command, but came to his senses almost at once to counter, “You cannot, our Lord meets with the council at present, and he must not be disturbed!”

“There! You will find him in the council chambers, run there, and tell him that his sons are returned and that they need him, do you understand?”

The servant boy that had stood petrified in front of the hearth from the Lord’s first words nodded tentatively.

“Then go!” Glorfindel barked at him and the boy did, like a frightened animal fleeing an enemy.

“The twins?” Melpomaen asked rising from his seat to look out of the window, but he could see nothing but snow fall in the empty courtyard below.

“They have passed behind the tower. You, you are coming with me.” Glorfindel took hold of the scribe’s shoulders and pushed him towards the door.

-

Melpomaen stood shivering in the cold courtyard, uncertain of what he was meant to do. Glorfindel had run off as soon as they had exited the main doors paying him no heed and leaving no instruction.

However as soon as Glorfindel reappeared it was clear what he needed to do, and he ran forward to assist in any way he could. The horses plodded with a weary gate behind the elf and man, and the scribe could see that of the two figures that were strapped to the horses, one was Lord Elrohir and his mind supplied that logic dictated the other must be Lord Elladan.

It seemed as if his heart had stopped as he moved forward, pushing down the grief that threatened to overcome him at the loss of the elflings he had watched grow into fine young elves.

“They can’t be,” he murmured to himself as he crossed the courtyard.

Glorfindel was helping the man that was leading the horses and it was not until the scribe was close that he saw that it was Lord Elladan that Glorfindel assisted and at last he felt some hope.

Stable hands appeared from out of nowhere as they came to a halt before the steps up to the main entrance.

“Melpomaen, take care of this one,” Glorfindel ordered, indicating the figure that was not his Lord’s son. He nodded at once, moving round to where the elf was draped over Elladan’s horse, as Glorfindel moved towards Elrohir and a stable hand took Glorfindel’s place in supporting Elladan, moving him slowly towards the steps as the Captain had ordered.

“Oh Valar!” Melpomaen exclaimed, and such a comment was so unlike him that Glorfindel looked up from his task of untying Elrohir and the small recognition in his voice caused Elladan to stop his progress on the steps and turn.

“Do you know him?”

The scribe did not answer him, intent as he was in his task.

“Master Melpomaen, do you know him?” Elladan asked again, louder this time and the scribe’s head snapped up from behind his horse.

“Aye My lord, he was my mentor, my teacher,” he replied, clearly shaken.

“What is his name?” Elladan spoke so quietly that the stable hand felt compelled to repeat the question.

“Erestor,” the scribe answered, “Master Erestor of the Havens, my Lord.”

It was at that moment that Elrond appeared at the top of the stairs in a flurry of brown velvet, his face stern set with something akin to fear in his eyes. He paused to take in the scene, sweeping down the stairs after only a moment to where Elladan still stood leaning heavily against one of the stable hands.

Some brief words were exchanged, Elladan gesturing towards the horses as he spoke, before his father took the exhausted elf’s face between his hands and kissed his brow.

“Take him to the healing house.”

The elf nodded his assent, turning Elladan towards the door once more.

Elrond took the remaining steps two at a time, his velvet robes trailing behind him as he moved swiftly to where Glorfindel held Elrohir in his arms, directing the unloading of the horses in a tone that proved to Elrond that he was as shaken as any here present, though only those that knew him well would notice.

Glorfindel suffered his decent upon him and his charge in silence, as Elrond fussed over the unconscious elf. Once satisfied he stepped back.

“Do you have him, Glorfindel?”

“I do, My Lord.” The golden lord answered with a bow of his head as Elrond moved to where the stick thin scribe stood with the injured elf in his arms looking as if he might be unbalanced at any moment.

“Pass him to me, Melpomaen?”

The scribe looked at the filthy figure he held and at his Lord’s fine robes and hesitated.

“Now! Please.” And Elrond moved forward slipping his arms beneath the elf’s back and legs before finally the scribe relented, passing his mentor’s weight into his Lord’s arms.

“You know him?”

“Aye, My Lord.”

“Walk with me if you would, Melpomaen, and tell me what you know of this elf.”

Glorfindel had already disappeared into the house as Lord Elrond and his scribe made their way up the steps and into the house.

-

“In here please, Glorfindel,” Elrond asked, entering a private chamber in the healing house with two beds and directing him to lay Elrohir down with a nod of his head, before turning to lay his own charge upon the other.

An elf in the robes of a healer entered after them, placing a large basin of water upon the table and depositing clean sleeping robes to one side.

“Would you see how Elladan is, Glorfindel? While I get these two cleaned up and treated.”

Glorfindel nodded once, leaving the two healers to their work.

-

“Ada?” Elladan appeared in the doorway where his brother lay, with a crutch beneath his arm and a concerned look upon his face.

“Come in,” Elrond rose from where he was seated upon Erestor’s bed to assist his son to the chair that sat by his twin’s bed.

“How are they?”

Having settled his son in the chair Elrond moved to sit upon the side of the bed once more, as Elladan took up his brother’s hand.

“Elrohir will be well; he has over stretched his healing abilities. And I am not entirely surprised that he has not regained full awareness yet given the cold and the travelling you have done, he should awaken fully soon. When he does, he will need to rest for a few more days.” Looking stern, Elrond gazed directly at his son. “And I do mean that, no rushing off to the taverns or any other such nonsense.”

“Of course Ada, I will see to it.”

Elrond nodded once, satisfied with his son’s answer.

“And Erestor?” Elladan looked towards where the injured elf lay on the bed, his complexion seeming deathly white against the clean linen sheets.

“I wish to hear more of the story of this one’s rescue, Elladan, but for now I will say that his injuries are grave. Your brother did well in keeping him from Mandos for as long as he has.” Elrond paused. “I’ll be honest with you Elladan, healing his hurts will tax my abilities to their very limits, and I can give you no guarantee that my efforts will be successful. You should prepare yourself for the worst I think, for even if he should heal in body, I cannot say if he will heal in spirit.”

Elladan dropped his gaze to where his hands held Elrohir’s and his thumb rubbed the back of his twin’s hand absently. And his mind drifted back a few short years to when they had brought his mother’s broken body back to the healing house. To when his father had healed that broken frame and they had all rejoiced believing she would be well, but it was not to be. Elladan glanced at Erestor’s pale features and he wondered if it would be that way now.

“Elladan? What did you do to your ankle?”

“The horses got tired of being used as pack animals.” He answered vaguely and Elrond decided to let it go, for he could always ask the healer that had treated the wound for clarification.

“I shall have Elrohir moved back to your rooms; he does not need to be here, provided he rests,” Elrond stated, rising from where he was seated as if about to leave.

Elladan looked up at his father, startled. “Ada, can he stay here? I should like to sit with them both; it will be easier if they are together.”

Elrond searched his son’s face, a feeling of unease settling into his stomach. “If you wish it, but I want you to get some rest too, you look as if you haven’t slept in a week.”

Eladan smiled at his father wryly, manoeuvring himself from the chair onto the side of his brother’s bed. “I can rest here just as well as I can in our own bed.”

Elrond nodded once, waiting just long enough for Elladan to stretch out next to his brother, Elrohir’s arms embracing him instinctively, before slipping out of the door with a last wry comment.

“I hope you don’t intend to sleep in your clothes, Elladan?”

-

Passing through the Hall of Fire, Elrond paused to listen to a cheerful composition that Lindir was playing upon his lyre. Acknowledging the minstrel’s nod he continued on, entering the private sitting room beyond.

Elrond was glad to see that Glorfindel was settled by the fire of the private chamber, and waved him to sit again when he rose in greeting. He fell heavily into the hearth chair across from his captain and accepted the pewter goblet of mulled wine from him with a grateful nod.

The silence between them stretched to an uncomfortable length and Glorfindel shifted in his seat.

“Knowing what I know now, I wonder if I have the strength to go through it again.”

“My Lord?” Glorfindel frowned, looking for clarification of his words.

“I am in no mood for titles today, Glorfindel; let us talk now, as equals, I need a friend’s counsel.”

“Of course,” Glorfindel agreed. The weary tone of Elrond’s voice confirmed his words and gave the captain a sinking feeling. That his Lord had sought him out in such a low state and with such obvious concern did not bode well.

The room settled into silence once more as Glorfindel watched Elrond gaze thoughtfully into his wine.

“Are the twins well?”

Elrond looked up. “In body, aye, they will be well enough soon. In mind?” He paused shaking his head. “By Elbereth, I wish I could go back a decade and know nothing of all that has come to pass these last years!”

Glorfindel nodded in sympathy; this was not the first time that they had sat in these chairs and had this conversation. In truth, it had become a regular occurrence, but it had seemed to Glorfindel that the urgency of these sessions had become less with time and his lord sought him out less frequently these days.

Not so today it seemed, and the golden lord could imagine that none of those previous conversations had taken place, for his Lord looked every bit as broken as the first time they had retired here to talk.

“What worries you so?”

Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, a feeling, a fear, perhaps it is nothing but I fear for my sons now more than ever, and I fear for myself even more is that selfish of me?”

“I don’t think so,” Glorfindel stated gently, “you have endured much. But why do you fear now? The twins are returned and will heal is that not all that matters?”

“Do you not see?” Elrond paused, shaking his head. “Do you remember how it was when you and the twins returned with Celebrian? How they would not be parted from her side for fear she would leave them even when her wounds were healed, and the pain of her suffering drew the strength from them, and how they turned to revenge to assuage their hurts?”

Glorfindel nodded solemnly.

“I see the same distress and determination in Elladan’s eyes when I look at him now as I did then. If I cannot save Erestor in body how then will my sons assuage their grief, and if he cannot heal in mind, how do you think the twins will react? What possible solace could I offer them?”

“But they do not know this elf?” Glorfindel replied softly, genuinely confused.

“I wonder if that will make any difference? I think not. These circumstances are too similar to their mother’s passing and those hurts are still too raw for them. I think that their acquaintance with this elf will matter little, next to the hope that they will place in him.”

Glorfindel frowned as he considered Elrond’s words.

“I know what it is like to be a twin, Glorfindel, and what it is like to be faced with the choice of mortality or immortality. I would do anything to persuade them to call themselves elves, no matter the cost to myself.” Elrond’s shoulders slumped. “But I cannot force them to that path, no matter how much I may wish it. And I fear that choice is near at hand for them.”

“I think you are wrong, you must be.” Glorfindel stuttered, then looking quite startled, he asked, “Have you foreseen this?”

“Nay, nay, I have foreseen only that their fate is bound to another’s and I believe that other to be this Erestor of the Havens.”

-

Elrohir raised his head, his mind still foggy from sleep, to see that Elladan was close by. He was carefully tending their injured charge’s hair and he felt comfortable in the small chamber, tucked in warm bedding that smelt of…..

“Home,” he whispered, an air of wonder in his tone. Elladan’s head snapped up and he smiled warmly.

“Welcome back,” he stated, placing the comb upon the table and moving to where Elrohir lay.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been heavily drugged,” his twin answered wryly, leaning into the hand that caressed his cheek.

“You are not drugged, lover; just a little tired.”

Elrohir cocked a brow in an expression that reminded Elladan of his father before he frowned in silent question.

“We arrived home yesterday, and it was two days before that that you succumbed to exhaustion.”

“Three days?” his twin stated incredulously. “What happened?”

Elladan moved further onto the bed, taking his twin into his arms as he recounted the tale.

-

“Erestor?”

“Aye, apparently he is one of Círdan’s high ranking advisors.”

“I thought him younger than us?”

“As did I, but you know how difficult it can be to tell when an elf is in reverie or unconscious, he’s almost as old as Ada.”

“Oh,” Elrohir mumbled. “How is he?”

“Ada won’t tell me anything, he says only that his condition is grave. I have the strangest feeling that he is expecting him to die at any moment.”

Elrohir frowned, pushing himself up to sit upon the side of the bed. “Help me,” he asked and Elladan moved forward, assisting his brother to Erestor’s bedside.

“His temperature is normal so far as I can tell,” Elrohir stated with a hand on the darkling elf’s brow. “Help me to unwrap the bindings, E’dan?”

“What are you two doing!?”

Elrond swept into the room with a scowl on his face. He moved forward at once picking Elrohir off the bed without comment or effort and placed him back onto his own and Elladan moved to the chair shamefaced as Elrond moved to sit upon the bed opposite as if guarding the advisor.

“I wasn’t going to use my gift,” Elrohir said rather crossly, “I just wanted to see how he was, and Elladan couldn’t tell me because you have not told him!”

Elrond sighed, “You are sick, Elrohir. You do know that if you were to use your powers now when only just awakened it would render you unconscious again?”

“Aye, I know Ada.” Elrohir’s tone softened recognising the wholehearted concern in his father’s voice.

“As I may not see for myself, will you tell me how he is?”

Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose turning to look at Elladan before looking back to Elrohir. “He is better, far from well yet, but better.”

“Will he live?” Elladan spoke up from where he was seated, his voice heavy with concern “You have made it seem like he could die at any moment.”

“And so he could; he was in a pitiful state when you returned yesterday, and his injuries cannot be cured in a day. I will continue to do my best for him, but you know as well as I how these things are.”

The twins looked at each other at their father’s cryptic comment; they knew well enough what he meant even if they would not believe it.

Elrohir broke the silence that had descended upon them by throwing the bedding over himself again and curling up on his side.

“I shall rest easier knowing that you tend him, Ada.”

And for the first time Elrond smiled, rising from the bed to tuck the covers tighter about his younger son.

“Welcome home, Elrohir, the two of you were sorely missed.”

-

Elrohir sat in the chair by Erestor’s bed, humming softly to himself. Elladan had been sitting with the elf through the morning and he would now sit with him till dusk. It had been four days since their return home and the advisor had grown stronger under their father’s attention; Elrond predicted that the elf would wake soon. Determined that he would not wake alone, the twins had resolved to sit with him till he awoke.

Elrohir smiled to see the elf turn towards him, curling up on his side, hugging the bedding to him like a lover. It was clear that the elf was much improved; there was no sign of the fever that had ravaged his body, and the wound upon his leg was almost healed. His face had even regained some colour and was slack and mostly peaceful in reverie now.

He studied the elf’s face. His features were striking, and the dark hair splayed out upon the pillows from his restless turning framed his face. A straight nose led down to full, well-defined lips and the dark eyes now glazed in reverie sat above sculpted cheekbones. Elrohir sighed; the elf was quite exquisite, though he thought that Erestor's looks would benefit from some regular meals as his cheeks seemed altogether too hollow at present.

He frowned to see Erestor’s face twist into an expression of fear, the result of some bad dream no doubt. It was not uncommon for them to find the elf panting in terror, his glazed eyes wide in fear of some event they could not even begin to imagine.

And when such dreams plagued the elf, Elrohir and his twin would offer what comfort they could. He took up the elf’s hand now, only to have Erestor pull it from his gentle hold, clutching the limb to his chest in protection from this unseen enemy.

Steeling himself against further rejection, he reached out once more, this time to stroke the ebony hair, humming a lullaby that had often been used to lull two overexcited twin elflings into sleep.

Elrohir smiled to himself in satisfaction as after a time Erestor’s movement became less desperate and he stilled, under the soothing melody and the gentle touch.

-

Elladan leaned against the doorframe to the room that had become theirs since their arrival home, appreciating the view. His brother sat close to Erestor, stroking the elf’s hair in an intimate act, one he had often been on the receiving end of. The darkling elf lay still in his reverie and Elladan could see the hint of a smile touching his lips. He moved forward.

“How is he?”

Elrohir looked up at his twin’s approach and smiled briefly. “Physically, he is doing well, I think, but I fear his nightmares are becoming worse.”

Elladan nodded once, squeezing himself in beside his twin on the chair designed for one. “Has he awakened?”

“Nay, not yet, but Ada has just been in; he says he’d be surprised if Erestor sleeps through to morning without waking at some point.”

“Are you going to get some rest?” Elladan moved a hand to stroke his brother’s thigh and Elrohir sighed, he had missed this intimacy.

“Nay, I shall stay here as he will likely wake soon.”

-

Erestor came back to awareness slowly, inch by inch, his subconscious trapped between the fear of his dreams and the horrors that might greet him if he allowed his eyes to see. But there was no fighting it, as full awareness came to him. Through his time in captivity he had learnt to regain consciousness quietly and without movement, he had been beaten into unconsciousness more than once for just such actions, but if they thought him dead then they would leave him be.

The first thing to register was the lack of stench, his surroundings smelt clean and a gentle breeze blew over him from somewhere bringing with it the scent of, what was that fragrance his mind asked? Pine. Aye, the smell of wet pine needles in the rain.

The room was dark, but he was used to the dark, and it did not scare him, not anymore, the darkness was his friend, for all it concealed. But nay, the room was not wholly dark, a gentle glow emanated from someplace close by, but he would have to move to see where it came from and he would not.

Considering the evidence he concluded that he had at last descended into madness, but he would not fight it, too long had he lain awake in the dark, the putrefied stench of corpses invading his nose, and his mouth, as he waited to die. Tears slipped from his dark eyes unbidden but he did not wipe them from his face. No orc would notice in the darkness of this room, and perhaps he cried only in his imagination, his body seeking death at last by willing a movement upon him.

“He’s awake!”

The volume of that voice made him flinch, betraying movement at last.

Another voice spoke up. “Gently Melpomaen, and quietly, don’t scare him.”

Feverishly he searched for some understanding, the words were known to him, how could this be? Did his mind seek to give him company in his insanity?

A face appeared in his line of sight; an elf not an orc, he noted. Pale blue eyes looked down at him in concern.

“Erestor? Master Erestor?”

The elf spoke quietly this time, scarcely more than a whisper and there was no mistaking the hopefulness in his voice. Erestor frowned, he imagined he knew this elf and knew him well, but he could not quite grasp the name at first.

“Melpomaen?” His voice sounded scratchy and hushed, and brought with it a coughing fit that broke the motionlessness of his watching, but it was of no matter, his mind supplied. Mandos’ Halls be welcome.

-

Elrohir pushed the scribe to one side as he came to Erestor’s side. “Water, E’dan? Quickly.”

He lifted Erestor with gentle hands up into a half seated position resting against his own chest, as his twin handed him a cup before seating himself on the bed.

“Slowly.” Elrohir spoke softly into his charge’s ear as he held the cup to his lips.

The liquid felt soothing to his parched throat and Erestor could not deny that it felt real also, he shook his head slightly and the cup fell away.

“Better?” the voice at his ear asked gently, the arm about him felt comforting against all reason.

“Melpomaen?”

“Here, My Lord.” The scribe moved forward from where he had been trying to keep out of the way and settled on the bed next to where Elladan sat.

Erestor looked up at him with large dazed eyes, after a moment bringing his hand up shakily to touch the scribe’s cheek.

“You are real?” The disbelief in his voice was unmistakable.

Melpomaen smiled broadly. “Aye, My Lord, I am real.”

“How do you feel?”

Erestor’s eyes moved to the elf who had spoken and he wondered if he saw one of the Valar sitting there for the elf seemed to glow, and his handsome face was kindly. He frowned once more, overwhelmed and confused.

“You need not answer him, my brother is an impatient one, he would have you returned to full duties tomorrow, given half a chance!” the voice in his ear stated softly in amusement. “When you know, you can tell us.”

Erestor was glad of the instructions delivered in that soothing voice for he’d be hard pressed to say, disoriented as he was. He attempted to twist in the arms of whoever it was that held him, but found the movement impossible in his weakened state.

“Melpomaen?”

The scribe smiled, understanding at once what Elrohir proposed. “Of course.”

Hands moved him, one to another and he was settled back once more. The elf that Erestor presumed had spoken to him moved passed him and knelt by the bedside at the handsome elf’s feet. Erestor stared at the elf, alarmed, eyes flitting from one pair of silver grey eyes to an identical pair.

“What are you?” he stuttered in alarm, visions of the fair faced demons of legend coming to mind.

“We are twins,” the one seated stated softly, amusement warring with concern in his voice.

“I am Elrohir, and this is my brother Elladan,” the one kneeling added.

“Imladris,” Erestor said uncertainly and his comment was met by two broad smiles.

“You went to Imladris.” Erestor’s hand upon his own alerted the scribe to this comment directed at him.

“Aye, My Lord.”

“What happened to me?”

Elladan frowned in concern and exchanged a look with his brother.

“I think that is a question for another time, Master Erestor. You have been very ill and you need rest, but know that you are safe in Imladris and in our care.”

“You are a healer?”

Elrohir paused in helping the scribe to lay Erestor back, to answer, “Aye, I am, though officially you are under my Father’s care.”

“Alas, that does not mean that Elrohir will not order you about when Ada is not here.”

“Thank you Elladan!” his twin stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but they were both heartened to see the ghost of a smile upon Erestor’s lips at their exchange.

“You need rest,” Elrohir said gently. “We will speak again in the morning, and will be here through the night.” Tucking the covers about his patient he resisted a strong urge to kiss the elf.

Elladan frowned in question when his twin turned back towards him with startled eyes, but Elrohir shook his head slightly, dismissing his concern, sure that his face was flushed beneath his lover’s scrutiny.

-

Erestor woke again at dawn, looking about him furtively having convinced himself that the previous night had been but a dream.

To one side he saw that one of the twins, he knew not which, was draped over a chair apparently deep in reverie, his dark hair fell in a cascade to the floor, the sun from the window giving the fall an auburn sheen.

“Elladan can sleep almost anywhere.” A voice beside him said wryly and Erestor started, looking towards the speaker guardedly. The other twin, Elrohir, his mind supplied, sat next to his bed with a book in his lap and a warm look upon his face.

“How did you sleep?”

“Not a dream then,” he muttered in reply ignoring the question as he tried to sit.

Elrohir moved to help him, but was halted by the fierce look that the elf gave him, he sat again tentatively, ready to offer assistance regardless, should it be necessary.

“Ada will be here presently, I suspect. He will be glad to see you awake.” He paused. “We all are,” he added with a smile.

“Lord Elrond is your father? Is that correct? My mind is so muddled.” Erestor shook his head admonishingly.

“Aye, that is right, and I daresay there is nothing wrong with your mind.”

“I have never met him, my dealings have always been with,” he paused as if searching for the name. “Rómendil, Master Rómendil.”

Erestor frowned. “But he sailed, did he not?”

“Aye, seven years ago now. You are advisor to Lord Círdan?”

“One of many,” he whispered so quietly Elrohir had to lean forward to catch his words. “Where are the others?” Erestor turned imploring eyes upon him.

“What others?”

Erestor’s looked at him in disbelief which turned swiftly to fear. “The others, my company. Where are the others?”

From the corner of his eye Elrohir could see Elladan rising from his chair as gracefully as a cat, but he paid him no heed, intent as he was in calming the injured elf.

“You should rest.”

Fear turned then to panic and Erestor tried to rise, though he was not strong enough to do so. Elladan moved to restrain him and the elf lashed out at him. Turning desperate eyes on Elrohir once more, he cried, “Where are the others!!”

What could he say? What should he say? He had locked gazes with his twin searching them for an answer when he felt a hand settle on his shoulder and looked up into his father’s calm face.

“Leave us.”

Elrohir rose at once at his father’s definite tone but Elladan lingered, long since immune to stern words.

“Both of you,” Elrond ordered quietly as he took the seat that Elrohir had recently vacated. “And please shut the door behind you.”

Outside the door, Elrohir looked at his brother with startled, fearful eyes and Elladan moved forward, wrapping his arms about his beloved in comfort and support.

-

The healers had stopped looking surprised to see the twins loitering outside the door and had begun to accept them as permanent fixtures by the time Elrond emerged from the chamber, shutting the door behind him.

“He is sleeping,” he said simply to the two pairs of inquisitive eyes that were looking his way. “I wish to speak with you both in my study at once; please fetch Glorfindel and Melpomaen on your way there.” With that last statement Elrond swept down the corridor towards the main house leaving the twins in his wake.

-

Elrond was settled at his desk. In front of him Glorfindel sat in a chair looking like a naughty elfling expecting some kind of dire punishment, and Elrohir was positioned to one side of him nervously fiddling with the hem of his tunic. It generally amused Elrond that this room could reduce even battle hardened elves to a nervous state. That was, of course, the intention, but he had no desire right now to intimidate so he poured tea for them all and engaged Glorfindel in some conversation regarding the border defences.

Elrohir’s fidgeting was growing worse as they waited for Elladan and the scribe to appear and he had just opened his mouth to protest the delay when the door opened.

Elladan shoved Melpomaen into the room, looking most displeased. The scribe staggered for a few steps then came to a stop, looking red faced and anxious.

“Master Melpomaen has something he wishes to show us,” Elladan said shortly, the edge in his voice betrayed his agitation as he moved to join his twin on the divan leaving the scribe standing alone in the centre of the room.

All eyes fixed on him and he blushed furiously, “My Lord…I…er,” he stuttered.

“Spit it out,” Elladan remarked, his tone icy. He glared back at his father’s sharp look without remorse.

“It bothered me, you see,” the scribe said quietly moving forward to stand just beside Glorfindel. “It bothered me that we were not made aware of the attack against the Haven elves; there has long been the policy to inform the other realms whenever something untoward happens.”

“I have been thinking the same thing,” Glorfindel added, directing his comment to Elrond who was looking at Melpomaen searchingly.

“So I went back through the papers that came in through the autumn, they were in a dreadful state,” he shook his head, “and I found this.” The scribe leaned forward placing a piece of parchment on the desk before Elrond and stepped back at once.

“This can’t go on,” Glorfidel stated forcefully. “If you will not contact Lothlórien or the Havens for an advisor to assist in these routine matters then I shall, it is not acceptable that information regarding the defence of this realm is being mislaid.”

Melpomaen shifted his feet anxiously as Elrond studied the missive.

“I agree with you, Glorfindel, but I think we can manage and right now I am more concerned about the elf that I have lying in the healing house.”

Glorfindel made a small disgruntled sound, but made no further comment.

“This confirms some of what Erestor told me,” Elrond said quietly. Elrohir sat on the edge of his seat fit to burst and Elladan looked no less interested as Elrond leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

“He was part of a group of twelve elves sent up North to negotiate the supply of timber to the Havens. From what this tells me,” he indicated the parchment, “there were eight guards, two advisors and two scribes acting as assistants.”

Elrond paused to take a sip of his tea. “According to this notice it was meant to be a routine task, but clearly something went very wrong.” He shook his head. “No word has since been heard from any of them, until now.”

As soon as he paused again the twins and Glorfindel all started asking their questions at once, and Elrond raised a hand silencing them all.

“One at a time, please,” he stated wryly.

“Ada, did Erestor say what happened to them?”

“Erestor has said very little, he is concerned about his companions as is understandable, he believes them dead and I am not inclined to contradict that view given the evidence in this missive.”

Glorfindel nodded solemnly in obvious agreement.

“He doesn’t recall what happened to them. Remember that he has been conscious for less than a day, that knowledge may come back in time, or the letter we sent to Círdan may prove fruitful; at present, I am only concerned with seeing Erestor best served.”

Elladan buried his head into the crook of his twin’s neck, slumping into his brother’s embrace for comfort. Glorfindel looked thoughtfully at the desk and Melpomaen leaned heavily upon the back of Glorfindel’s chair.

“We must support him as we can, to attempt to draw out his memories at this stage would be unwise I think. I believe that in time the truth will out itself.”

“I agree,” Glorfindel stated, well used to how traumatic events often affected the memory. He had seen it often in his own guards through the years.

“So what do we do?” Elrohir asked unsurely, still stroking his twin’s hair.

“We take care of him,” Elrond said simply, “and not just in the healing house. I will be insisting that he not travel for at least a season, so he will not be able to return to the Havens at once. Because of that I would like for you two to take him under your wing, and see to it that he is taken care of, as he does seem to have taken a shine to you.”

The twins nodded as one, “We will, Ada.”

“Well, I think that is all for now. If there are any issues on this matter that concern you, please bring them to me.” This comment was directed at the twins but both Glorfindel and Melpomaen nodded as well.

-

Erestor walked down the corridor from his sick room to the main house, flanked by identical dark haired escorts. He gazed in appreciation at the painted shutters that lined the walkway, a temporary measure against the cold he assumed, and wondered absently what lay beyond.

He had never been to Imladris before, for in truth he was not well travelled, spending his time in Lindon during the second age and relocating to the Havens after that. But he had heard many tales of this famed land and enough of the residents here to give him a false sense of familiarity. He looked guardedly at Elrohir who stood on his left; he had, of course, heard of the twin sons of this realm but had failed to imagine them as anything but knee high elflings. And he was disturbingly aware of the fact that his escort were neither elflings nor the spoiled fops he would have expected from two elves adored from birth and wanting for nothing. They were a little taller than him, lean and well toned, fair of face and long of limb. He shook his head absently to rid his mind of the thought as they rounded the corner and he could feel the sudden chill of a hall exposed to the winter weather.

Distracted by the sudden vista that opened up before him Erestor paused in his step. They stood on what seemed to be a large covered balcony and all of Imladris was laid out before him.

“Perhaps you would like to rest a moment?” Elrohir said gently, and momentarily finding himself dumbstruck, Erestor nodded mutely. They led him right to the railings where a series of cushioned chairs sat at that vantage point for those wishing to idly enjoy the views beyond.

Absently, Erestor wondered what he must look like, gaping out across the valley like a star struck youngster, but found himself unable to truly care. He glanced then at the twins who had settled into seats beside him, though their gaze was directed not at the valley but at himself with twin indulgent smiles upon their faces.

“It is an honour and a joy to watch how the sight of our home affects those who have not seen it before,” Elladan said with a smile and a slight bow of his head that Erestor read as thanks. And despite the length of his years and his usually unflappable countenance, he blushed, and Elladan’s smile grew just a touch broader at the sight.

“You must stay till autumn,” Elrohir said suddenly, and Elladan looked at him startled. He made a slight sound that seemed like an expulsion of nerves before continuing. “Well, our valley is beautiful in spring also, which you will see, but I like the view best in autumn when the trees are burnished and the light golden.”

A dark look passed over Erestor’s countenance at the words and Elrohir cursed his tactlessness.

“Forgive me, of course you will wish to return to your home as soon as Ada gives you leave, I was not thinking.”

Erestor said nothing, but turned towards the view of Imladris once more. Beside him Elladan was looking at his twin as if he had lost his mind.

-

“I hope they are to your liking?”

It occurred to Erestor that that was a ridiculous question, these rooms were beyond exquisite. He was standing in a spacious sitting room; and through a side door he could see an equally spacious bedroom, all tastefully finished and furnished in the intricate hand crafted furniture that to Erestor looked quite exotic.

“They are beautiful, thank you.”

Elladan grinned, “El’ir and I will come to escort you to dinner in a few hours, rest well.”

With those words he was gone and Erestor started slightly at the click of the door shutting behind him.

The silence seemed deafening after the constant hustle and bustle of the healing house but after a time Erestor recognised the soothing sounds of falling water. Curious as to its source, he walked across the room to the heavy tapestry that hung along one side of the sitting room. Pushing aside the cloth its purpose became apparent as behind the hanging was an open window protected only by intricately entwined stone decorations, looking out over the valley and the waterfalls of Imladris.

Beyond the window was a private balcony, and upon further exploration he found that there was a door leading from the bedroom that led out onto that space.

Erestor sat down on the bed overwhelmed. His quarters at the castle in the Havens were internal stone clad chambers, offering minimal space and only a small amount of natural light, he looked about him stunned, these were the rooms of a King and he wondered if there hadn’t been some mistake.

Slipping off his boots, he padded over to where Elladan had indicated that there were robes for him to use. He took a moment to place all those of any colour to the furthest corner, for he would only don robes of the darkest hues while he was mourning the loss of his companions.

That brief thought caused tears to well in his eyes. He had not cried since he had awakened here, but alone in his chambers, with the evidence of such kindness all about him he moved back to the bed and curled up intending to cry until he could cry no more.

-

Elladan entered the chambers that he shared with his brother and moved to the only uncovered window in their living room. He was not blind to the way that Elrohir seemed to fawn over their charge and it disturbed him greatly. He loved his twin, he was the other half of his soul, but he thought he could feel Elrohir moving away from him, distancing himself to a degree, and that thought terrified him and angered him in equal measure. Feeling compelled to address the issue he turned from where he had been gazing distractedly out of the window, Elrohir appeared lost in his own thoughts as seemed to be often the case these days.

“What is going on?” Elladan asked, looking down at his brother with suspicious eyes.

Elrohir looked up at him, from where he had collapsed on the divan, in confusion. “Nothing is going on, what on Arda makes you think that?”

Elladan’s brow furrowed in genuine concern now, as he sat on the edge of the divan.

“You, your every action, you’re scaring me, El’ir.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Elrohir reached out to touch his lover only to have Elladan pull away, moving into the neighbouring chair awkwardly. “E’dan?”

“Do you think I don’t notice the way you look at him?”

“Now you are being ridiculous. I am bound to you! I love you! Do you think me so fickle?”

The words were comforting and in truth just what Elladan was hoping to hear and he began to think it was all in his imagination after all.

Elrohir moved to straddle his twin in the chair where he was sitting unsurely. “I am bound to you and I love you.” He whispered over and over in his most placating voice. Until finally his words became kisses and his kisses became caresses and his lover’s fears were quashed, for a time in any case.

-

Erestor moved out of the bathing chamber and slipped into the dark brown velvet robes. He moved to the mirror and adjusted the fit; they hung loosely on his frame but were well made and warm, and the Valar knew he had no cause to grumble.

He stared intently at the brown of his robes, his mind trying to grasp what it was the colour reminded him of and as he remembered his hands fell limply to his side, his eyes wet once more with unshed tears.

The captain of their escort was a jovial fellow, with always a smile to give and a joke to tell.

“Cullóm,” Erestor murmured to the empty room and he remembered how the elf had had the exact same coloured bands tying back his braids when they had set off from the havens. He swallowed hard, and wiped the wetness from his eyes.

-

Elrohir felt dreadful.

He was still curled up in the bedding and his body still hummed from the pleasure it had so recently received, pleasure that Elrohir was sure he did not deserve. Elladan had disappeared into the bathing chamber to ready himself for the evening meal, leaving him alone with his morose thoughts.

Had he lied to his twin? He really was not sure; it was certainly true that his eyes had a tendency to seek out Erestor’s form, and it was true that he felt some pull to the elf but surely this did not mean anything at all, for he still felt the same love and the same desire towards his beloved Elladan.

Nay, he did not want Erestor, he did not lie. But still some small part of his mind and his heart protested.

Elrohir felt dreadful.

-

Put on notice earlier, Elrohir was careful to avoid unnecessary glances towards the Havens advisor over dinner which was no easy task given that he was directly in his line of sight whenever he was drawn into conversation with any of the older elves including Glorfindel and his father. Thankfully, Melpomaen was chattering away to Erestor so there was no need to engage the elf in conversation himself despite sitting close enough to do so.

Elrond watched the scene before him with interest; both of his sons were acting strangely tonight. Elrohir seemed to spend the meal looking about him furtively, radiating guilt or perhaps shame. Elladan sat further down the long table watching his twin like a hawk, his expression dark and brooding. It did not escape Elrond’s notice that Erestor was glancing towards Elladan more than might be considered decent and that he was clearly concerned by his son’s gloomy countenance.

Interesting, he thought sitting back in his chair as the table was cleared of the first course. Glorfindel seemed to notice that something troubled him and gave him a curious look, which Elrond dismissed at once with a slight shake of his head.

Elrond considered the facts as he saw them, there was clearly a growing attachment between his youngest and the advisor; despite Elrohir’s attempt at concealment, it was obvious to him. Erestor had seemed to him from the very start to have formed some sort of interest in his sons, which at present seemed to be directed at Elladan but Elrond was certain that Elrohir was not entirely excluded from his regard. However Elladan, he paused in his thinking to glance at his son who was making a half-hearted attempt to converse with Lindir, was radiating unhappiness.

The dramas being acted out at his table had for the most part gone unseen by the rest of the group. At one point Glorfindel looked at Elladan strangely and attempted to lighten his mood but the act was lost on the twin that clearly wished to wallow in his own gloomy thoughts undisturbed.

They were nearing the end of the meal when Elrohir finally allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation with Melpomaen and Erestor, and Elrond was aware that Elladan’s eyes had narrowed dangerously. Hoping that his eldest had the sense not to make a scene at the table, he made no move to intervene.

When Elrohir’s bright laughter filled the room, Elladan had had enough and rose abruptly with an audible scrape of his chair.

“May I be excused, Ada?”

Elrond could tell from the agitation in his voice that Elladan’s request was more of a demand, but felt thankful that he had at least asked, which, though he doubted anyone here was fooled, at least gave the impression that he was being polite.

Elrond rose, gesturing to the rest of the table to stay seated.

“Please excuse us, and carry on with the meal. We shall return presently,” he apologised.

Elladan glared at him outraged, and on the far side of the table Elrohir looked worried.

-

They entered the small sitting room off of the Hall of Fire and Elrond directed his son to sit. Handing him a goblet of wine he asked lightly.

“Will you tell me what is bothering you? Or must I employ my negotiating skills?”

Elladan smiled slightly at that, for his father had an uncanny skill in the extraction of information from those reluctant to tell, and he knew that eventually his secrets would be lost.

He sighed heavily as Elrond took a seat, eyes resting on his son expectantly.

“It’s El’ir; I fear I am losing him. With each day that passes he seems to be drawing further away from me.”

At his father’s indulgent look, he protested, “It’s not my imagination Ada! I can see it in his eyes when he looks at,” he paused as if stifling an uncomplimentary comment. “When he looks at Erestor.”

Elrond smiled slightly, “You are no more likely to lose Elrohir than the moon is likely to part company with the stars, Elladan. Together you are the whole, separately you will always be lacking.”

For just a moment a deep hurt crossed Elrond’s face and Elladan lowered his eyes for shame, that he had been the cause of his father remembering the painful separation from his twin.

They sat in silence for a time, until Elrond’s countenance lightened and he lifted his son’s chin to look at him.

“Then what does it mean, Ada? Do you think my words false? That I am inventing fears?”

“Nay, I do not think so.”

Elladan looked startled. “Then my worst fears are indeed confirmed,” he stated with drooping shoulders and troubled eyes.

“How do you feel about Erestor?” Elrond asked softly after a short pause

“Me? He means nothing to me save that we owe him a duty of care.” As soon as the words passed his lips he knew them to be untrue, and his brow furrowed.

Elrond raised a brow. “Indeed? It has been a long time since I have told you a tale; would you indulge me now by listening carefully to what I have to say?”

Elladan nodded once in acquiescence, truly curious about what his father might say. He spoke little of his twin these days and Elladan felt with certainty that the tale he was about to hear had been heard by no other.

“Your Uncle and I were twins as you are, lovers as you are.” Elrond’s gaze, usually so confident, fell to his hands uneasily. “Ours is not an easy tale to tell and one that contains much heartache and pain. I have not the strength to tell it all; for that you must garner what you can from the annals of history.”

Elladan looked up at his father with some chagrin for a moment, was he not to hear anything of use after all?

Recognising his son’s irritation, Elrond answered his look in a tone that was perhaps harsher than he intended and with bitter words.

“It is not easy to lose that which you hold closest to your heart. You fear losing your beloved; I had mine torn from me by the requirements of history and these events still chill my blood and always will. Don’t presume to understand the sacrifice I made Elladan, you cannot.”

There was a dreadful finality in his father’s voice and Elladan saw at last what he had done and was mortified that he had been cruel enough to look for such a tale to be retold and to cause such pain for the gratification of his own curiosity.

He moved at once to kneel at his father’s feet and took the hands that lay limp and defeated in his lap into his own.

“Forgive me, Ada.” He pleaded, looking up into father’s eyes, so similar in colour to his own.

Elrond chuckled admonishingly, “Here am I trying to raise your spirits. I think I am doing a poor job.” He moved a hand to cup his son’s cheek. “I am thankful that you do not know such pain, Elladan, and pray you never will. Now, was I not telling you a tale?”

“We had been lovers for a century or more when things between us changed, we loved each other with certainty still, as we always had. But while we had always been satisfied with nothing more than each other’s company there came a time when our eyes would wander and speaking for myself,” he shook his head, “my eyes were turned to him and my thoughts were quite impure.”

Elladan shifted, not entirely comfortable with thoughts of his father’s lust for another.

Elrond grinned down at him. “Does it surprise you to learn that I was not always so decrepit?” And Elladan had to smile at that comment; in truth he had never given the matter any thought at all.

“Elros and I always shared our thoughts freely and had even been known to leer after an elf or two.”

Elladan rolled his eyes, convinced that his father was enjoying embarrassing him just a little too much.

“But the lust for this elf I could not share, it felt too close to my heart. It was not lust alone I felt and I spent the good part of a season guarding this secret fiercely and feeling dreadful. You see I felt like the worst kind of traitor. I loved Elros, so much that I could not bear the thought of parting from him, but the draw that I felt to this elf was such that rather than diminishing in time as I prayed it would, it grew and grew till I could bear it no longer.”

“What did you do?” Elladan’s wide eyed question made him smile as it brought to mind the innocent elfling that he once was.

“I sat down with my twin and told him how I felt; I left nothing out and felt much relieved at the telling.”

Elladan looked at his father open mouthed. “What did he say?”

Elrond chuckled, the memory obviously pleasing. “He laughed, quite uproariously, as I recall.”

“He was not angry, not jealous?”

Elrond looked thoughtful for a moment. “Nay, he was not angry, jealous? A little perhaps, but I assured him, as was true, that my love and desire for him was not diminished.”

“But what then did you do?” Elladan asked, reaching for his wine glass and taking a draught, his eyes never leaving his father’s face. Elrond smiled secretively.

“Elros insisted that we bed him at once.”

Elladan choked on his wine, spurting a goodly amount over his robes at the shock, looking quite scandalised.

Elrond ignored the dramatic interruption. “You see, your Uncle also harboured feelings for this elf, akin to my own as it turns out. So we seduced him and kept him. For myself, my love for him grew and grew even beyond what I had thought possible. And it is my belief that Elros felt the same, as did our love.”

“But surely people were scandalised! It cannot have been normal practice for an elf to take two lovers and to indulge in them together?”

“Nay, and there were some who did not understand that is true, but the way we have always explained it is like this. Twins are one faer divided between two bodies rather than the one that is more common. One faer, one elf. Why should that one elf not take a lover, not take a husband, or a wife, even if they are two?”

Elladan looked thoughtful at his words. “ B ut you did not bind to him?” he finally asked.

“Nay, we did not bind, though in truth nothing would have made us happier and had circumstances been different we would have. But destiny can be a cruel master and as I knew I would lose my twin so I knew I would lose my lover.”

“We should return to the hall.” Elrond said rising. “Elladan, think on all I have said, examine your feelings and do not be so hard on Elrohir; he is miserable,” Elrond said lightly.

Elladan nodded once, he had been given a lot to think on. They headed for the door.

“Ada?” Elrond turned at his son’s word.

“Who was the elf you loved?”

Elrond’s eyes were wistful as he stated, “If I tell you, it cannot be repeated.” He smiled secretively, “You will not find this information in any of the history books.”

“I will not repeat it, I swear, though El’ir?”

“I will be having this talk with your brother also; but you must let me tell him?”

“Of course.”

Elrond took his son’s arm and led him to the door, singing softly as he went,

“Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea”

-

Elladan was still staring at his father in open mouthed astonishment as they passed into the Hall of Fire, where Lindir was in the process of setting up his instruments for the night’s entertainment, and Melpomaen and Erestor were still huddled together deep in conversation. Glorfindel rose at their entry making his way over to Elrond’s side and Elrohir sat apart from all, looking utterly dejected.

Elladan thought his heart would break at the sight and with a nodded farewell made his way to his twin’s side. Collapsing behind him, he wrapped his arms about his beloved waist and nuzzled at his hair. When Elrohir turned in his embrace with eyes full of questions, he smiled broadly and leaned forward.

“I love you,” he said simply into his brother’s ear and being in the right place to do so, traced his beloved’s ear with his tongue, cherishing the shiver of desire that ran through Elrohir’s lithe form at the move, and allowed his twin to slump into his embrace as they waited for the songs to start.

As the evening wore on, Elladan found his eyes increasingly drawn to where Erestor sat leaning against a pillar. There was no denying that the elf was attractive, even in the dull light of the hall his beauty was striking, perhaps not conventional but beautiful nonetheless and Elladan thought back to the cave when he had first felt the stirrings of desire. For the first time he imagined himself kissing the elf, and before he knew where he was, he was assaulted by the imagined vision of the elf pumping into his brother’s lean frame as he watched, aroused and wanting.

The hardness was difficult to ignore, pressed as it was against his hip, and Elrohir smiled slightly as he slipped a hand behind him to trace the outline of Elladan’s length through the fabric of the robes. He schooled his features, willing his face not to betray the actions of his hand and could feel his twin move against him slightly in time with his strokes.

Elrohir’s hand stroked him deftly as he kissed up the length of his brother’s neck, his breathing strained as he attempted to keep from betraying their actions to the roomful of elves that were now present in the hall. Desire was building within him like a flame kindled from a spark and he murmured endearments and threats into his brother’s ear, his hands stroking his beloved’s back in a seemingly innocent act, and his eyes locked upon Erestor’s form. The firelight flickered across the darkling elf’s skin and caressed his face intimately, but it was not until the advisor turned and those dark eyes fixed on him that he was undone, his hand digging painfully into Elrohir’s shoulder.

Shocked by the intensity of his release, Elladan buried his face into a cascade of dark hair, and waited for the tremors of pleasure to subside.

“Imp,” he hissed into Elrohir’s ear. “I need to change my robes; be sure that I shall devise some sweet torture for you later.”

Elrohir raised an elegant brow at his comment as Elladan made to rise, a knowing smile touching his lips.

Elladan glared at the expression and was at once reminded of his surroundings; looking about at the group he could see that his father and Glorfindel appeared to be oblivious. Melpomaen likewise was paying them no heed but glancing at Erestor he could see the reflection of the fire in his eyes as he looked their way. Mortified, Elladan blushed and raked a hand through his hair, but when he looked again the advisor was staring down at the floor in embarrassment. Turning tail, Elladan fled the room.

-

Erestor was seated upon the floor of his chambers. Before him sat a lone candle, standing tall in defence of his peace of mind.

He would get no sleep this night, too afraid of his dreams to go to them willingly and he stared at the candle illuminating his vigil against the dark.

Erestor shivered as he leaned back against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest and watching.

-

The following day Elrohir slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. Elladan was sprawled out upon the divan, running a whet stone along the length of his knife. These things he put aside on seeing his twin enter and he sat up from where he had slouched.

“Did you speak to Ada?”

Elrohir nodded once, moving to sit upon the divan next to him; he glanced at Elladan askance, his brows knit in thought.

“And what do you think?”

Elrohir snorted, “I scarcely know what to think, it certainly shines a new light upon our history lessons!”

Elladan chuckled, “Aye that it does, though in truth I am far more interested in the implications that Ada’s tale has upon us.”

“I know.” Elrohir’s voice was only a whisper as his eyes studied the floor.

“El’ir let us speak frankly on this matter? There should be no secrets between us.”

-

Elrond sat back in his chair as the remains of the evening meal were cleared from the table. He was much heartened to see that the twins appeared to have reconciled their differences; they sat together talking secretively amongst themselves, and while Elrond did not often allow them to sit together for the mischief that they were want to engage in, for this once he was content to indulge them.

“My Lord?” Startled from his thoughts Elrond looked across the table at Erestor, who sat between Glorfindel and Lindir. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the advisor’s appearance and he made a mental note to ask him if he was getting the rest that he should.

“My Lord, I am unaccustomed to having time on my hands and like to keep myself occupied. As I am to be here for a season I was wondering if there might be some work that I could take on? Anything that would be of some small benefit?”

The room grew quiet as Glorfindel halted in his animated discussion with the twins to give Elrond a look that said in no uncertain terms, refuse this offer and you will be short a seneschal.

Elrond looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I insist that you give yourself until the end of the week, but after then I don’t see why not, but be assured this will be on a purely voluntary basis and you must not overtax yourself.”

Erestor smiled broadly, clearly relieved and Glorfindel and Melpomaen exchanged a pleased smile.

“Master Melpomaen, can I leave it to you to find Master Erestor something to keep him occupied?”

“Gladly.”

-

The mood in the Hall of Fire was subdued, attributable no doubt to the weather which remained bitterly cold; there was no structured entertainment in the hall this night and the elves present amused themselves. Elrond looked fondly towards Glorfindel who was regaling a group of enthralled elves with a tale, no doubt scandalous in nature. Not far from this group, another sat about a young elleth plucking at a lute, singing a woeful song of love lost.

Elrond scanned the hall once more and saw that his sons were sitting on one of the many window seats not far from the hearth watching the flakes of snow fall from the darkened sky, framed by the curtain they had pulled to one side. He made his way over to them.

The twins moved apart automatically at their father’s approach making room on the bench for him to sit between them.

“Is all well?”

Elrohir smiled, “Aye Ada, we are well.”

“We have talked and have resolved to wait for a time, to see if our feelings grow, we would not take a lover lightly.”

Elrond nodded once, surprised and pleased at Elladan’s words. He was glad that they were taking this new possibility both seriously and responsibly.

“I still need you to look out for Erestor. I fear he is not getting the rest he needs and he will not confide in me.”

The twins nodded in agreement, resolved to do as they were asked.

-

The muffled scream brought Elladan from deep reverie to full awareness in the blink of an eye, and he looked about him for a moment, disoriented. Elrohir lay sprawled across the bed like a debauched courtesan, and he smiled fondly at the sight, before slipping without a sound from the bed and pulling on his leggings.

He padded from the door in their room, across the balcony and slipped into Erestor’s bedchamber as silently as a thief in the night.

A candle burned brightly upon the table illuminating the advisor’s restless form. He lay writhing upon the bed, gloriously nude and moaning disturbingly. Elladan moved at once to the head of the bed, reaching out a hand to stroke the dark hair. Erestor moved from his reach in alarm, and determined Elladan slipped onto the bed to pull the elf into his arms.

A violent struggle ensued, the elf’s limbs reaching out to push him away, and the glazed eyes were an unsettling reminder of his state. As quickly as Erestor’s struggles started they stopped, and the elf curled against his body, with arms about his neck as Elladan stroked the naked skin of his back soothingly.

The elf was calm in his arms and his breathing had evened out once more when Elrohir appeared at the door. He paused there for a long while his eyes appraising the scene.

After a time Elladan made a move to lay the elf down upon his bed once more, no easy task, as Erestor clung to him desperately, rewarding him when he was finally released with a kiss to his brow. He turned to see Elrohir looking at him in amusement at the move, one brow raised elegantly in surprise.

Replacing the candle that was almost burnt down with a second pushed into the melted wax of its predecessor the twins took their leave.

-

Erestor meandered down the winding path through the gardens, admiring the snow covered vista. Today he felt much improved, he had slept through the night undisturbed, his nightmares kept at bay by a soothing unseen presence and he dared hope that the darkness would soon retreat from his dreams altogether.

He was resigned now to his enforced period of idleness but grateful that Lord Elrond would allow him to repay a little of what he felt he owed by working for him. And he was sure that he would be able to keep himself amused exploring the realm, until he could busy himself with work.

Turning from the path he walked over a snow covered lawn and onto a path that ran under a line of sleeping cherry trees and into a small group of fruit trees. Imladris was a revelation to him, the beauty of the place filled him to bursting with a sense of serenity and invigorated him in a manner he had never felt before. His place at the Havens had been utilitarian and lacking in many pleasures and his position there was at a stand, he was convinced that Círdan’s chief advisor would never be persuaded to relinquish his position and he knew he would always be the assistant.

The events that he had suffered had brought to mind many regrets and had forced him in no small way to re-evaluate his life, and his goals. He had become achingly aware that his life was lacking, and he found himself regretting that he had talked himself out of binding to that dark haired minstrel when he had just reached his majority.

He shook his head admonishingly.

“We’d have made each other miserable,” he said to the statue of a young woman guarding a frozen pool, and cocked a brow at her. “Do you wish for warmth too?”

Twice the warmth, his devious mind supplied and he pulled his cloak tighter about him as if chilled. He moved on following the path once more till it opened up into a rose garden and chose a seat under an arbour, looking out over this part of the garden.

It had been long since he had taken a lover.

This was the excuse he gave his treacherous mind whenever his thoughts turned to the twin sons of this realm and he imagined intimacy with one of them, or more recently and quite disturbingly, both! They had been both attentive and kind to him, not to mention heroes for rescuing him in the first place, and they were beautiful. He sighed.

He had heard tales of how similar the two were in looks; how it was scarcely possible to tell one from the other, but to him they were as different as day and night and both appealing in their own way, he would never mistake one for the other.

He snorted at his own foolishness, they were clearly bound and neither free to love him, and it was that that he wished above all things. Perhaps, he thought in amusement, he was finally ready to settle down. Inwardly he rolled his eyes at his idiocy and the still sensible part of his brain declared that it was fortunate that he would be able to return to the Havens after a few more months and leave this folly behind. His heart lurched at the thought, how could he return to the Havens now? He could not, so where could he go?

Merry laughter disturbed his unhappy musings and a moment later Glorfindel staggered out from between two bushes. He paused to grin at Erestor, his eyes alight with mirth.

“Be warned, my friend, that the twins are headed this way, brandishing weapons.”

Erestor wondered if he should leave before the objects of his inner turmoil appeared, but before he could move Glorfindel had collapsed next to him with a groan and he could not leave for fear of offending the captain.

“I am getting far too old to keep up with them, I think,” his companion stated wryly, rubbing his elbow. “But then again, I have never had pupils with such a blatant disregard for the rules of engagement.”

“We beat you fair and square, Glorfindel, and you know it!”

The berating voice came from the same direction that Glorfindel had appeared from and was accompanied by the clanging of metal upon metal. The captain grinned. A moment later the two burst through the bushes and Erestor’s heart skipped a beat.

The twins were dressed in sparring clothes of autumn hues, short tunics and long boots over suede leggings. Elladan had the upper hand at their first appearance but his twin was skilled and matched him blow for blow.

“Keep off the beds, Elladan, or the gardener will have my head!” Glorfindel demanded, and Elladan moved forward, pushing his brother back with a series of punishing swings till they were back on the tiled path.

“Elladan has the greater strength,” Glorfindel stated conversationally and Erestor found his eyes moving unbidden to the rippling muscles of the twin’s uncovered arms.

“But I the agility, the speed and the beauty,” Elrohir answered with a cheeky grin, and while next to him Glorfindel laughed, Erestor watched the progress of the younger twin’s legs and the lightness of his movements as he was forced back to be finally tripped into a pond.

“Together they are a force to be reckoned with, when they are not pushing each other into pools,” Glorfindel said wryly, as he rose to assist.

Erestor’s eyes were locked on the scene as Elrohir was righted, soaked to the skin and glaring. Elladan moved forward then, draping the cloak that Glorfindel handed him over his twin’s shoulders and touching his face with heart-warming intimacy, before wrapping his arm about him, and leading him towards where he was seated.

“Master Erestor, are you well?” Elladan asked with genuine interest as they approached. For a moment the vision the advisor had made, lying naked upon the bed writhing, passed across his minds eye, and he found that a fierce desire to nurture welled up in him for the elf had looked so vulnerable and disturbed.

When he came back to himself, Elrohir was looking at him oddly and he wondered if the elf had made any reply, if he had, he had not heard it. A look of embarrassment passed over his eyes briefly; but thankfully, Glorfindel inadvertently saved the situation by ordering them both back to the house.

The three took their leave of the advisor and made their way back down the path.

Erestor cursed under his breath, it was clear to him that whatever it was he felt for those two was growing stronger and he feared that it was only a matter of time until he betrayed himself. He could almost hear their laughter at his embarrassment already.

-

Elrond lifted the neat stack of parchment off of his desk and absently shuffled through them before placing them down once more, determined to deal with them later. His finger idly traced the inlaid pattern that bordered the top of his desk and he wondered how many years it had lain unseen beneath the papers that had constantly littered it.

Too long he decided, in the month that Erestor had taken over some advisor duties, the workload had become more manageable and he had some free time for the first time in many moons. Melpomaen had lost much of his seemingly harassed countenance, and even Glorfindel seemed to have benefited from the organisation. The elf seemed Valar sent, though the thought made Elrond feel guilty, there was suffering there, but still he could not help but be glad at Imladris’ good fortune and he wondered, not for the first time what he could do to ensure the elf stayed with them.

Elrond looked up at the knock upon the doorframe and Glorfindel swept into the room, with a smile and a bow.

“The rosters,” he said, placing them upon the desk and moving to where Elrond was seated by the hearth.

“Feel free to ignore them; they are just for your information anyway.” He added with a smirk.

Elrond nodded once and gestured for his captain to sit, offering him a goblet of wine.

“I was just considering ways we could use to persuade Master Erestor to stay with us.”

Glorfindel looked up. “Aye, he would be an asset; even my guards find him,” he paused to grin, “tolerable.”

Elrond laughed, “High praise indeed!” He shook his head, the guards and the administrative elves traditionally never got along, each believing the other entirely unnecessary and inconvenient.

“It seems to me,” Glorfindel said after a pause, “that you should employ your sons in this regard, for they seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time with the elf at the moment.”

Elrond did not seem to be surprised by his observation and encouraged he asked, “One might even say they are courting the pretty thing.”

When Elrond did little more than take a sip of his wine at Glorfindel’s comment, he cocked a brow at him. “Well? Are they?”

“I haven’t any idea.”

The captain snorted derisively, “Well, let me see, they have dined together each night this past week, are frequently to be seen walking together through the gardens. Not hand in hand, I grant you, but even so, their acquaintance is the talk of the house.”

Elrond frowned into his wine. “And what does the house say?”

“They are glad, why would they not be? And you need not worry; those that find it strange are soon put straight.”

Glorfindel paused when Elrond nodded to acknowledge his words. “In truth, we are all relieved, the twins seem much changed and the air of sadness that hung about them seems to have dissipated, at least when Erestor is in their presence.”

“Aye, that is true, I have heard no talk yet of orc hunting in the spring and I do dare hope that their bloodlust is spent.”

“Aye, I daresay we all hope for that, and to my mind Erestor has done much to temper their wandering ways, this can only be a good thing for them and for you, my friend.”

Elrond smiled in agreement before sighing mournfully, “I should get back to my work, for alas Master Erestor is not beyond scolding me for my idleness.”

Glorfindel grinned as he took his leave

-

It was not until later in the day that Elrond was able to corner one of his sons. Though he could have called them to his study, he preferred to leave the meeting to chance, so it was that he came upon Elladan, seated on the bench outside of the armoury, studying the blade of his sword.

Elrond took a seat next to him, but Elladan appeared not to notice his presence.

“You are riding out this afternoon?”

Elladan sheathed his sword, laying it at his feet. “Aye, I’ll only be gone a day, Glorfindel wishes me to check on the outpost on the hill and take stock of the supplies there in preparation for the spring.”

“Did you and Elrohir have a fight?” It was rare for his sons to take on such routine tasks, and it usually signified a need to put some distance between them.

“Nay,” Elladan grinned. “Things are going rather well, but I fancy a ride. I am not used to spending so much time inside, I feel a little restless.”

Elrond nodded once, unsure whether to be concerned at Elladan’s restlessness, or relieved that he chose to spend it on a task within the borders of Imladris. He decided to choose the latter.

“I’ve heard rumours.”

“It wasn’t me,” Elladan answered instinctively and Elrond rolled his eyes.

Looking contrite his eldest said with a smile, “Sorry, force of habit. Do go on?”

“It is said that you are courting Erestor. Are you?”

Elladan chuckled, “Nay and Aye, not that I think it is any concern of those gossiping. But El’ir and I have taken the time to get to know Erestor a little, and we find ourselves becoming fond of him. We may take it further but have not done so yet.”

“Elladan?” Elrond’s voice held a warning edge.

His son glared at him for a moment, “What?”

“I am concerned that Erestor might think you are leading him a dance, you have explained your interest, I trust? And more importantly, the nature of it?”

“Not yet, but El’ir will speak to him while I am away, he thinks it will be less threatening for him or some such nonsense if he does so alone.”

Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your brother is right, but really you should have talked him through this, weeks ago. You don’t think this might be somewhat confusing for him?”

“I don’t see why, we have been the perfect Lords,” Elrond looked heavenwards at the unlikely thought, “and have only approached him in friendship, thus far.”

-

Erestor was just leaving the library when he saw Elladan mount his horse in the main courtyard and it did not escape his notice that he wore a pack similar to the ones used by the border guards, which implied a trip of some length.

His brow was furrowed as he moved swiftly back to his chambers. Shutting the door firmly behind him he slumped down into one of the hearth chairs and considered what he had seen. He had been due to dine with the twins again this night, and had been looking forward to the fact with giddy anticipation throughout the day.

He had long ago resigned himself to the fact that while he may have grown to love both Elladan and Elrohir in equal measure, they were not free to love him in return. But still his heart danced at the thought of spending time with them and while he knew his case hopeless, they delighted him and enthralled him, and he was sure he could be content with their friendship alone.

Recently though, his sharp eyes had noticed how there was some unspoken communication between them, and how oftentimes their eyes would drift to him in a way that confused him and excited him. Oh, but he would not presume to come between them, he could not, for he called them friends even if he could not call them lovers.

He shook his head. Was his evening cancelled? Surely they would have left him word?

As if in answer to his thought, there was a knock at his door. He rose taking several steps towards the door out into the hall before he realised that the knock was at his balcony door. He smiled and his heart leapt, for he knew who it would be.

Elrohir smiled warmly as he opened the door. “Forgive the intrusion, but I wished to make sure that you would still be dining with me tonight. Elladan was called away, but I hoped,” Elrohir paused looking down at his feet nervously, “I hoped you would still join me?”

“I would be glad to,” Erestor answered, as if there was any doubt!

Elrohir stood tall at his acquiescence, all signs of nervousness gone and he grinned, “At sundown then?”

“Aye, at sundown.”

With a last smile the younger twin was gone, and Erestor retreated back into his rooms.

-

Erestor was not at all sure what to make of the situation.

Elrohir had been attentive throughout dinner and they had moved now to the sitting room where they sat together upon the divan. He was achingly aware of the elf’s proximity and not blind to the fact that the younger twin seemed to be attempting to seduce him, though he had not yet made an overt move

They talked of inconsequential matters and he was struck by the nervousness of the elf. Did he believe that Erestor would tumble into bed with him despite the consequences? The elf was bound and a bonding was not to be taken lightly, he would not be able to live with the guilt of hurting Elladan, and an elven bonding is eternal, so there could be no place for him. He waited anxiously for Elrohir to make his move, that he might deny him gently and with each moment that passed so his tension became more acute.

The hour was growing late when Erestor rose, intending to excuse himself and return to his rooms; and it was then that Elrohir made his move.

He embraced him as if in parting, which was not uncommon in itself for they had often done so at the end of an evening, but there was a closeness in this embrace, something in it that spoke of more.

He stiffened the moment he felt Elrohir’s lips against neck and his hands run down his back to not quite cup his backside. There was no mistaking that move.

“Stay?” Elrohir demurred into his ear, his tongue slipping out to trace the skin.

Erestor balked at the suggestion, pushing out of Elrohir’s embrace abruptly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all words fled him. Elrohir looked as startled as he did and all thoughts of a gentle rejection were lost in his discomfort.

“Nay,” he stated firmly with the only word that would come freely to his befuddled mind and in a move quite out of character, he turned and fled.

Erestor sighed in relief upon entering his bedchamber and looked about him for some way of barring the door that had no lock. Finally he took hold of a chair and rammed it under the doorknob.

-

He slipped into the water with no joy, his heart still beating faster than it should and he considered. Had he led Elrohir on? Was this his fault?

He wiped water over his face distractedly. He felt sullied by the evening’s events and guilty for what he had done to Elladan; there was no doubt in his mind that he had betrayed his friend. How? He was not entirely sure, but he was convinced that somewhere along the line he had done something or said something that had made Elrohir think that he would be open to a clandestine and immoral relationship.

He laughed bitterly. He thought he had been so careful not to let his feelings for them show. Oh, but he did want them, he wanted to touch them and to taste them. He wondered if, given time, he could be led into such a dishonest relationship. But no, his heart would not bear it.

-

Elrohir paced his room in agitation.

It was nearly dawn now and the light grew pale outside as he cursed his foolishness and cursed himself.

He knew with certainty now that he loved Erestor, his reaction and the feeling that his heart was torn from his chest at the events of yester eve were proof enough. He had not meant to scare him so completely; he had acted like a fool, mistreating that which he held most dear.

He raked his hand roughly through his hair and turned to pace the room once more. He had attempted to see Erestor after he had run from him, had knocked upon his door and called to him, but there was no answer. And Elrohir was not certain that the elf had not left his chambers to lick his wounds, far from where he was.

He had not attempted to rest, for it was clear that he would not, and he wondered if Erestor slept, at one point in the night he thought he heard him call out and had gone to slip into Erestor’s bedroom to comfort him as had become a regular event, but the way was barred to him and the curtains drawn against prying eyes.

He had retreated then back to his rooms like a beaten dog, cursing his selfish and heavy handed acts that had caused his love to be deprived of the support that he needed and Elrohir realised that there was solace in the giving of comfort, and he had collapsed like a broken marionette upon the floor and wept.

And so he paced and cursed and he wondered what harsh words Elladan would give him for his coarse acts, for his cruelty, that may have lost them their heart and mate.

-

Glorfindel had just seen the replacement border patrol on their way when the elf rode into the courtyard on a sprightly grey. The stable hands moved forward to take the horse’s reigns at once and Glorfindel greeted the courier dressed in the colours of the Havens.

“Welcome to Imladris, your news must be urgent to bring you through the passes when the thaw is but a few days started.”

The elf smiled warmly as he dismounted, unhooking the messenger bag from his saddle with practiced ease.

“Nothing that need worry you, My Lord Captain,” he replied jovially with a bow, and Glorfindel wondered if they had met before, for clearly the elf knew who he was.

“I bring word from My Lord Círdan, and for myself, I wish to see that the elf rescued from the North Lands is well.”

Glorfindel cocked a brow. “Erestor?”

The elf nodded once and Glorfindel frowned, “Are you kin to him?” The elf’s fair hair made this unlikely he thought and at a curt shake of the elf’s head he was suddenly aware of another possibility. “A lover, then?”

The elf laughed, “Nay, alas not, though I call him friend. I am Cullóm; Master Erestor was under my care on the unfortunate mission that caused him to be here. I wish to assure him of certain facts, it does not sit well with me that he thinks me dead.” he stated sardonically. “And besides, I would not pass up an opportunity to visit your fair vale; it has been long since I was last here.”

Glorfindel decided that he liked this elf. “I am to meet with Lord Elrond now, could you bear to join us? For I am sure that we would both like to hear the circumstance of your unfortunate mission, if you can suffer the telling?”

“I would of course be honoured to pay my respects to your Lord, though I would sooner do so without the stench of my journey.”

“Of course.”

-

Erestor groaned. His head hurt and his heart ached. He turned onto his back and wiped at his face, he never imagined that he could feel so dejected.

He had spent the night turning every second of his time here in Imladris over in his mind, searching for some indication that could redeem him or his actions. He found none to speak of. A casual observer might have asked why he was so ready to blame himself and not the elf that had made the inappropriate move that had brought him to this point, but Erestor was too wrapped in his own dejection to give room to such logic.

He had eventually analysed himself into a restless sleep only to awake to the nightmares he had thought gone. The rest of the night had been spent in watching and waiting for the dawn in grim anticipation.

He would not go into the office today; Lord Elrond had said that if he did not feel up to it, he should not, and today he did not wish to face anyone. He pulled a pillow over his head to shield his eyes from the light and lay there feeling numb.

-

“Cullóm of the Havens, My Lord.”

Elrond stood from his chair as the Havens elf was shown into the study and bowed low.

“Welcome to Imladris, Cullóm of the Havens, and well met. I believe you hold the key to a mystery that has intrigued us all.”

Cullóm bowed his head in acknowledgement of Elrond’s words of greeting but looked uneasily at Glorfindel unsure what secrets he might hold.

“As our business here is concluded, Glorfindel, shall we move to the hearth?” The elf lord suggested, gesturing towards the fireplace and the comfortable chairs there.

“My Lord means news of your journey into the North Lands.” Glorfindel said softly as he guided Cullóm to the hearth. That the elf still looked uncomfortable appeared to be lost on them both.

“Erestor has not spoken a word about his ordeal to anyone, so you see this whole business has become something of a mystery, and I believe it would help Erestor greatly if we knew how his capture came to pass that we might help him heal in mind as he has in body. Will you oblige us?”

A frown passed over Cullóm’s face at Elrond’s request, but he soon schooled his features to reply. “Of course I shall tell you all I know of that event and I have been charged with giving you what information we have on the tribe of brigands and thieves that have established themselves at the base of Mount Gundabad as well. We believe they perpetrated this act”

Glorfindel sighed. “We can go over those details later.”

Cullóm nodded once in acquiescence as Elrond sat quietly, waiting for the Havens elf to speak.

“In short, My Lords, there is a new force that has sprung up in the North, composed mostly of disreputable men, by all accounts. In truth, we have not paid them much attention, the lands they claim are not within our influence and we have been content to keep an eye on them up until now.”

Elrond nodded once knowing full well how an Elven Lord must balance his responsibilities to the land and his elves with the needs of the men who seek refuge or land for their own, concerns outside of Imladris were watched carefully by his agents but generally were allowed to run their course unhindered.

“Our journey up to the town of Beech Wood should have been a matter of formality, some matters were to be negotiated with the leaders, and papers were to be signed for the agreement to stand. I have been on dozens of these journeys, and generally they are an amusing distraction.” Cullom paused lowering his eyes and shaking his head.

“All went according to plan at first, Beech Wood is a fortnight’s ride out of the Havens and the journey passed without incident. We were made welcome by the town and the talks were progressing well.

On the day of the attack, we were invited by the leaders to ride out to the forest that supplied our wood; it seemed a pleasant enough diversion.

Master Erestor was locked in talks with the town council, on some administrative matter he was determined to fix. He insisted that we go, all of us,” Cullom said softly. “He said it was a matter of trust and that he would be perfectly safe and he was forceful in dismissing my concerns.”

“And you listened to him?” Glorfindel interjected, with raised brows.

Cullom sighed, “Of course not! I left two guards with him, well not with him, exactly. I did not tell him I had left them but I saw them stationed within sight.”

Glorfindel nodded his approval, that was a tact he had used on many an occasion, and he hoped that Elrond was not listening too closely.

“The woods were two hours ride out of Beech Wood and most impressive, we stayed there for the morning and some of the afternoon, turning back to the town well before nightfall.”

Cullóm paused to accept a glass from Glorfindel, and to savour the fineness of the wine before continuing.

“We saw the smoke first, it was like a whole forest was burning, and our escort was naturally disturbed. There were four in total, three sons of the town council, jovial fellows and one odd character who was reported to be a woodsman. We spurred the horses on, following the track as fast as they could manage.

The devastation began as soon as we had entered the outskirts of the town, the small dwellings burned and the dead lay out on the road, I saw the body of a child cut down in flight.” Cullóm shook his head sadly.

“We rode into the square like the nine were at our backs, leaving our horses with the woodsman and one of our guards. The council building was aflame but we entered to see if there were any left alive as our escort went elsewhere, to their homes perhaps?

The bodies we found in the council chambers lay were they had fallen, but Master Erestor was not among them. I had the young advisor who had been assisting him identify all of the bodies in the chamber, the poor thing was terrified, but it had to be done.

We were given no more time to examine the scene as the building was in danger of collapsing around us and we came out coughing and spluttering to find the guard left to watch the horses unconscious and the mounts gone, and with heavy hearts we searched in vain for the two guards I had left with Master Erestor. At that point I could only hope they were in a position to help him, for further investigation confirmed that he was not among the dead.

Alas it was not to be, as the two guards arrived back just after nightfall having been beaten unconscious and left for dead, they believe they were mistaken for humans because of the trail cloaks they wore and the hoods they had raised over their heads to disguise the fairness of their hair.

It was a horrible business, of the one hundred population only a score survived, we stayed for a week to help the survivors, get a shelter built and to get the dead laid to rest and we began our long walk towards the havens.”

Again Glorfindel interrupted, “Did you not track the villains who abducted Erestor?”

“Aye we did, Captain, as far as we were able to; the force that attacked the town filed through into the woods that surrounded the town, and then scattered like so many leaves in the wind. I blamed myself more than you will ever know for that, but there was nothing I could do, I had two injured and there is only so much that can be done with six guards, two scribes and an advisor!”

Glorfindel nodded, noticing well enough the burden of guilt that had descended upon the other elf during his speech.

Elrond shifted in his seat, and the Havens guard looked up at him. “There ends my tale for the most part, My Lord. We arrived back a few days after the missive you sent arrived, on foot and weary, but inordinately glad that Master Erestor had been rescued.”

“What will happen to the survivors of the town?”

Cullóm frowned in thought. “I’m not certain, My Lord, but I daresay that Lord Círdan will find them lands closer to our protection, if they wish it.”

Elrond nodded thoughtfully. “You can rely upon our support with these brigands; I’ll leave Glorfindel to work out the details with you. It seems that one key question remains though, how did Erestor get passed from the hands of men, into the hands of orcs?”

“That is a question that I cannot answer, My Lord.”

“As his friend surely you can persuade him to tell you what happened to him?”

“Glorfindel, it is possible that he does not remember, we may never know the extent of this story,” Elrond warned.

Cullóm looked uneasy in his seat. “My Lords, you should know Erestor and I are not so well acquainted. Besides, I was responsible for his protection and I failed him. I shall not be surprised if he wishes me dead when he sees that I am not.”

-

Elrond turned a corner, almost running into his youngest who was not looking where he was going.

“Sorry, Ada.”

“We missed you at breakfast this morning, Elrohir. I trust your evening went well?”

Elrohir looked mildly annoyed in the split second before his face fell. “It was awful, Ada.”

Already late for the council session Elrond had neither the patience nor the inclination to counsel his son on this matter. “Then I suggest that you fix it with all urgency, Elrohir. Erestor has more than enough cares at present without adding to them.”

“Aye, I know Ada.” Elrond felt badly at his son’s crestfallen countenance but he was determined not to meddle in this affair.

-

Cullóm frowned. He had made his way to Erestor’s chambers determined to see him and give him what news he could, but there was no answer at his door.

Stopping a maid that was traversing the corridor with a tray, he asked if she knew where he might find the advisor.

“Master Erestor is unwell.” At the guards concerned look, she added, “You need not worry, ‘tis not a physical malady I think, but one of the heart. Though I confess I have never seen him so low, I suspect it will right itself for Lord Elrohir looks every bit as miserable. I bring lunch to him now,” she said indicating the covered tray.

Cullóm was uncertain what to think of the maid’s words, but they brought to the fore all of his natural protectiveness. Erestor and he barely knew each other but the elf felt a duty of care towards him that transcended such facts, he would protect Erestor with his life if need be and would certainly take an interest if the advisor was being ill-treated.

A promise of a stroll in the gardens was exchanged for a tray and the maid knocked upon the door in a manner which, had the havens guard been paying attention, would have afforded him access to most of the bedchambers of Imladris without question. The maid blushed under the handsome elf’s scrutiny and disappeared down the corridor with a coy smile.

After a moment the door opened and Erestor stood there in a house coat and leggings, his hair dishevelled and his look sullen. They stared at each other for long moments, the advisor had opened his mouth to speak but no words would come in the face of the spectre that stood at his door bearing lunch.

“May I come in?” Cullóm asked softly. The elf had blanched and was staring at him in a way that made him feel most uncomfortable.

Lost for words still, Erestor backed up a pace, allowing the ghost access.

“Where shall I put this?”

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the table and shut the door as Cullóm placed the tray down.

He kept the spectre in his sights, staring at him with fearful eyes. It was too much, more than his mind and heart could cope with, and without warning he dissolved into tears. He was not an elf given to emotional outbursts, he had not cried since that first day in his chambers, but there was no halting the storm now, for loss, for relief, for shame, and for guilt. For all these things and more, he wept.

Cullóm didn’t hesitate even for a second, in moving forward to wrap his arms around Erestor and guiding him to sit upon the divan. He stroked the elf’s back soothingly and murmured comforting words of nonsense as the elf cried into his shoulder.

They sat like that for a long while, until Erestor’s tears had dried and the sobs had been replaced by intermittent hiccups.

“You’re dead,” Erestor finally said, his voice sounding hollow in his head.

Cullóm smiled. “As you see, I am not,” he murmured into the dark hair and the advisor pulled out of his embrace to look at him.

“You feel real enough that is true, but my nightmares are devious.” He shook his head. “If you are real, will you explain yourself?”

“I shall, if you will eat.”

-

Erestor was not sure how it came to be that he confided all of his secrets to the fair-haired guard. Perhaps it was that the elf reminded him of a time when his life was stable and uncomplicated or perhaps he had just been in greater need of an impartial confidante than he realised. Either way he found himself telling the elf all manner of things that he imagined he would never share.

Cullóm listened with patience to his exclamations of joy at the survival of his fellows, and to his description of the kindness and the friendship that had grown between himself and the twins. The elf’s disposition changed to agitated as he recounted the events of yester eve and the behaviour of the younger twin. He made passing reference to the love he bore them but underplayed its significance for fear of disturbing the elf with his unnatural desires.

It was not until his tale was told that he noticed the expression of anger and disbelief on the guard’s face, and sought at once to remove it with words defending Elrohir and his actions, until he was halted by Cullóm’s raised hand.

“It is clear that you have come to care for the twins and that they have been kind to you, this I cannot deny, but I find their actions towards you questionable and in truth, dishonourable. It riles me that they would use you so. Erestor, you may love as you will, but I think that Lord Elrohir has attempted to take advantage of you, and this I will not tolerate.”

Erestor was shocked by the guards assessment of the situation so neatly garnered from his vague tale, though he doubted that he had understood the depth of his love for them.

“I would give you counsel, if you would have it.” At Erestor’s unhappy nod, he continued. “I have some business to attend to here, but it should not take more than a fortnight at most. Come home with me when I leave? Lord Círdan thinks well of you, you know, and would give you ever opportunity to heal, and surely you would benefit from familiar surroundings and the support of your friends and kin? I think your visit here has ceased to be of assistance to you.”

Erestor’s heart screamed, Nay! But his keen mind agreed with the guard, there was no future for him here.

“I cannot return without Lord Elrond’s leave, and he has made it clear that I should stay until the end of spring.”

“Then we shall get it, he cannot keep you here against your will.”

Erestor jumped at the sound of the knock at his door.

“Shall I get that?” Cullóm asked gently.

“I cannot see anyone at present, not yet.” The advisor’s eyes were wide and fearful.

The guard nodded once and rose.

Cullóm had once escorted the twins and their father from the borders of the Havens to the court, so he knew who it was that stood there when he opened the door.

Elladan looked surprised for a moment to see the blonde haired elf in Erestor’s chambers, but soon came back to himself to ask, “I wish to see Master Erestor? It is a matter of some urgency.”

The Haven’s guard raked an appraising look over the twin, his expression icy. “I regret that Master Erestor has nothing to say to you, and is not receiving visitors at present, good day.”

The door shut in his face and Elladan growled, stalking off to find out the identity of this elf who dared stand between him and his heart.

Erestor laughed wanly as the door shut, “That was Elladan, not Elrohir, you know?” He stated casually and his visitor shrugged.

“I can imagine the words he might have for you, and with luck he will go now and aim his wrath at someone more deserving, like his bonded.”

-

“Nay, I am sorry Erestor, but I will not allow it.” Elrond moved a piece of parchment onto a pile at the side of his desk. “I did not insist you stay here to recuperate without cause, to travel at this time would be detrimental to your health and as your healer I cannot allow that, therefore I must maintain that you cannot travel until the beginning of summer.”

Elrond was concerned at the picture the advisor made, though he was dressed in formal robes, the elf was pale and clearly unhappy which strengthened his resolve even more, for the sake of a few months it made no sense for the elf to put back his healing. The Haven’s guard stood at Erestor’s side in a show of solidarity and Elrond had an uneasy feeling that his sons where somehow responsible for this.

“We can take the journey slowly, and I would gladly take every provision for his care.”

“I’m sure you would, but my answer is still ‘nay’, and that is my final word on the matter.” With his words of dismissal Elrond turned his attention to a lengthy missive.

Erestor rose dejectedly from the chair and the two slipped out of the door. Elrond glanced up as they left, his brow furrowed in concern.

-

Elrohir sat in a chair with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms hugging his legs and looked up balefully as his twin slipped in through the door. Elladan looked at his twin and shook his head slightly before falling heavily into a chair.

“He won’t see us, and he has acquired a guard.”

Elrohir made a small mournful sound and pressed his brow to his knees. After a moment Elladan’s words sunk in and he raised his head to ask, “A guard?”

“Aye, a messenger arrived from the Havens this morning; Glorfindel says he was the head of the escort that was sent with Erestor to the North Lands. He was in his rooms; the elf dared shut the door in my face!”

“He probably thought you were me,” Elrohir said wanly.

“Possibly, but I have a notion that this elf will not be so easy to distract if he is calling himself our beloved’s protector.”

“It’s a mess. E’dan, I’m so sorry.”

Elladan rose moving to where Elrohir was curled up and perched upon the chair arm. He stroked his twin’s hair till he looked up. “I doubt I would have faired much better, lover; but you are doing our situation no favours by moping. I wonder if Ada could be persuaded to help us.”

Elrohir sighed, “I don’t think so, I bumped into him earlier, and he told me to resolve the problem alone.”

Elladan bent down to kiss the top of his brother’s head, “Not alone love, together.”

-

“What is going on with Erestor and the twins?” Glorfindel asked as he and Elrond walked to the dining hall.

Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “In truth I have no idea and I do not think I wish to know.”

Glorfindel cocked a brow at him.

“While I hate to see Erestor so unhappy, I think that this situation my sons should fix for themselves. It would be too easy for me to tell them what to do or to orchestrate their reconciliation, but I don’t think it would do them any good. I love them, truly I do, but it is time they started cleaning up after themselves I think.”

“I’m not convinced that this would be the situation I’d have chosen to prove a point, but in principle I agree with you.”

Elrond sighed again at Glorfindel’s criticism. “Bonding is a serious responsibility. If they truly love him as they should, let them understand that their actions can affect others, and hurt others, no, I think this they must fix for themselves.”

-

The evening meal was excruciating, with Cullóm, Erestor and Melpomaen on one end glaring frostily at the twins on the other end. Elrond and Glorfindel presided over the uncomfortable event and Lindir looked caught up in the middle, which of course he was. Conversation was limited to loaded comments and veiled insults and the two elder elves were heartily relieved when it was over and they could finally retire.

-

It had been four days since the incident, as Erestor’s structured mind had decided to call it; he had returned to his work the day after Cullóm’s arrival and felt better for it. The guard had become a friend and a stalwart protector, and would always meet him after he had finished his day; he was never to be seen without the elf at his side now and he found his presence soothing and his concern sincere. Erestor was well aware that the elf had originally offered his friendship as a way of excising his own guilt over his capture but he dared hope the elf had since become sincere in his regard.

The twins had been distant with him, hardly surprising given his formidable protection and the icy glances the elf was wont to throw their way. What confounded him the most was that nothing appeared to have changed in their relationship with each other; granted, the first two days Elladan had seemed somewhat disgruntled but not, Erestor thought, in the manner of a jealous husband, rather, he seemed disappointed and appeared to blame Elrohir for the regret. It was odd and Erestor had long given up trying to figure it out, he could only assume that the bond between the two was not as strong as he had once thought.

His chambers remained his sanctuary and when the evening drew in, Cullóm would draw the curtains, ensure the chair was still lodged beneath the balcony door handle and return to his rooms as he readied himself for bed. He would smile at the bowl of candied fruit that had mysteriously appeared on the bedside table the first time he had left his rooms after the altercation, believing it to be a show of support from the staff, and would read till his weariness forced him into reverie. He habitually woke two or three times a night, wide eyed with fright, he would then read for a while and the cycle would be repeated.

Cullóm had tried to persuade him to leave Imladris with him despite Lord Elrond’s insistence that he not, but Erestor would not hear his words and when pressed had told him that he would not repay kindness with deceit. In truth, he was worried about what would happen when his guardian was gone but he pushed the thoughts from his tired mind, he would cope somehow.

-

The day of Cullóm’s departing dawned bright and Erestor went to the main courtyard to say his farewells. It was with uncertainty that Erestor stood in that space. He had come to rely on the elf a great deal over the past ten days and he anticipated his leaving with a heavy heart. In contrast, the guard was jovial; he bowed low to a couple of maids that were loitering in the yard and presented one of them with a rose. That act had them swooning and nattering in the way that foolish elleth did, but Erestor had to smile, the elf was charm itself.

Glorfindel led his horse out to him, exchanging a few words with him before he came to stand by Erestor and the golden Lord placed a hand upon his shoulder in a show of comradery or support, or perhaps to make sure he did not run off at the last moment, Erestor was not certain which.

Cullóm embraced him warmly and assured him he would return by the last day of spring to escort him home and told him to remember that he need not suffer the twins’ company if he did not wish to. Erestor nodded once to that, thinking that it might not be so easy, and Glorfindel looked at them oddly before he turned away, shaking his head.

He waited until Cullóm’s horse had disappeared from sight before turning back to the house and heading for the offices to start his work. He was nearly at his destination when Elladan appeared in his path and Erestor looked in chagrin at the alcove that had concealed him, and quickened his step to pass.

“Erestor, please? I only wish to speak to you for a moment.”

He spun on his heel to face the twin, his expression carefully schooled so as not to betray the raging of his heart and he answered abruptly, “Then, speak.”

Elladan frowned; this was not going as well as he hoped, he took a deep breath.

“Will you join us for dinner tonight?”

Erestor scowled at the question, “I will not.” Then turned on his heel once more and fled, not to the office but to his chambers where he consoled himself with candied fruits and a glass of potent wine.

-

Elladan stood rooted to the spot as Erestor bolted down the corridor, sighed heavily and went in the opposite direction in search of his twin.

-

Elrohir was lying on his back on one of the padded benches in the Hall of Fire when Elladan found him and he sat up on seeing him approach, his eyes hopeful.

The look his twin gave him was answer enough and he slouched back against his brother when he sat down beside him.

“He would not even consider our invitation, what are we to do, E’lir?” Elladan said softly, mindful of disturbing Lindir who was practising his harp skills nearby.

“We could write to him?”

“I fear in his current mood he would only destroy any missive we sent. I truly hoped that he would be more approachable when that guard left, but his resolve shows no sign of waning. Perhaps we should wait a time before approaching him again?”

“Nay, I think this situation has already been allowed to fester too long; it must be resolved or I shall be forever restless.” Elrohir’s countenance darkened under the cloud of his guilt.

“Then I ask again what are we to do?”

Elrohir moved to mind speech so that Lindir would not overhear his thoughts and as he finished laying out his plans Elladan grinned and said, “Brother mine, you are brilliant! Shall we go to our tasks?”

-

Erestor was seated by the hearth in his chambers with a good wine and a book, thankful that he was able to finish his work early and take some time for himself. The meeting with Elladan earlier in the day had brought back all those feelings that he had quashed while Cullóm had been present. He had been able to convince himself that he did not truly care for the twins at all, and that they had simply been toying with him for their own amusement. But seeing the hurt look upon the older twin’s face as he had turned to go, had awakened the feelings of love and desire that had lain dormant in him since the incident.

He wondered if he hadn’t been too hard on the twin, for was he not also an injured party? Nay, it was as Cullóm said, though they hid it well it must be true that they meant to injure him, nothing had changed between the twins so it must have amused them to agree to his downfall and to play with his affections. Erestor cursed under his breath, feeling anger welling up in him, how dare they treat him thusly?

It was then he heard the whooshing sound of a bird’s wings in flight and wondered absently why it seemed to be so loud just a moment before the room was full of feathers beating in the chamber that seemed much smaller with an eagle in flight within it.

Erestor stood abruptly, startled, as the bird took a turn about the room and dropped down suddenly to settle upon the gilded bar that sat before the hearth, its talons folded neatly beneath it. Erestor sat again.

Erestor looked at the bird, and the bird looked at Erestor.

This was one of his Lord Círdan’s birds, though he had rarely seen one so close. They were fiercely intelligent creatures, distantly related to the eagles of Crissaegrim, who had chosen to stay and serve the exiles of Gondolin, and then to serve Lord Círdan at Balar. A few had remained in his service ever since, and were used to send urgent news throughout the elven realms when the need arose. However none of this explained why there was one preening its feather by his hearth.

“Are you lost?” he asked gently. The bird cocked its head at him and he sighed. “I do not know who it is that usually cares for you and your kind when you arrive in Imladris, but I shall ask Glorfindel, he will know.” He rose and made for the door. But he had not taken more than a couple of steps when the eagle began to flap its wings in agitation. Erestor flinched as the bird’s wings fanned the flames of the fire and he feared the bird would go up in smoke, it squawked at him and bent to pick at the courier pouch tied to its leg.

His visitor undid the fastenings with alarming speed and practised skill, and flung the leather pouch in his direction. Erestor sighed again and retrieved the purse from where it lay, this seemed to satisfy the eagle and it began preening once more.

“I should take this to Lord Elrond,” he said, and the bird stretched out its wings warningly. Erestor glared at the eagle, and sat once more, “Very well. I am an advisor, after all, but if this news is important, you will not be able to keep me here, no matter how much flapping and squawking you do.” His visitor lifted its beak defiantly and Erestor smiled at the move.

He undid the remaining clasp and unfolded the carefully designed pouch, and gasped as the missive was revealed, for it was addressed to him. He turned the sealed parchment over for a moment thinking it from his Lord in the Havens, but the seals were not his. He studied them trying to recall where he had seen them before and turning the missive over once more to study the elegant script, he sighed heavily.

“I cannot imagine why you agreed to do their bidding.” The eagle raised its head and looked at him condescendingly for a moment before returning to its task as Erestor considered the note in his hand.

Recalling his train of thought of earlier, he hissed, “I cannot read it, and I will not.” Surely it would be his downfall. Feeling the utter despair of his case and the anger at the twins’ deception, and without another word or thought, he tossed it into the fire.

A second later the missive landed upon his lap unscorched and the bird was looking away from him disdainfully.

He tossed it again, but the bird was fast in its retrieval and it was delivered into his lap once more.

Erestor glared at the bird and the bird glared at Erestor.

He rose from his seat to place it into the fire and the eagle spread its wings in defiance. With eyes that dared him to come closer, it emphasised its warning by unhooking a talon and stretching its toes. Erestor sighed defeated, falling back into his chair. The bird looked smug.

Placing the missive unopened on the table Erestor returned to his book. He heard the swooshing of the bird’s wings as it took flight once more and dared hope it was returning from whence it came. A moment later the missive dropped into his book and his chair shuddered as the eagle came to land upon the back.

Erestor looked up at the bird and the bird looked down its beak at Erestor. Erestor sighed heavily.

“You will not be content until I open this, will you?”

The bird ignored him.

“Fine, but it will be going straight into the fire afterwards.”

His visitor preened.

Putting his book to one side he traced a finger over the twin seals before finally breaking them and unfolding the parchment. The letter was long and penned in Elrohir’s elegant script; he read the contents in silence, the chair back creaked as the bird took flight once more, returning to its place by the hearth.

He read the missive again, his mind trying to convince itself that it was truly reading the words written there.

“They say they care for me.” Erestor said to the bird in astonishment. His visitor cocked its head as if interested.

“If what they say here is true I have maligned them without cause.”

Erestor read the letter once more his heart giddy with joy while his mind counselled caution. The twins said they were not bound, least not in the manner he had imagined and explained the nature of it that would allow them to love him freely if he would have them. He felt at war with himself, this was his greatest desire but the hurt he had suffered by their acts was not so easy to dismiss and he was still expecting some cruel trick.

Erestor looked at the bird ruffling its feathers by the hearth and thought it was a fitting messenger for the twins; its persistence reminded him of the brothers’ subtle but persistent attempts to talk to him when Cullóm had been watching over him. He felt badly now that he had been so hostile to their advances, but still that tendril of doubt remained.

As the missive stated the eagle was waiting upon a reply and Erestor moved to his desk, while the bird watched his every move with interest. He sat there for a long while trying to think what to say, before finally scribbling a few words upon a clean sheet of parchment.

He was wondering how he was to attach the pouch to the eagle once more when he noticed that the bird wore a second one that he knew was used for short messages and his visitor unhooked its talons and lifted its leg to afford him easier access. Erestor rolled the parchment up and slipped it into the small leather tube.

“Thank you, my friend.”

The bird bobbed its head and squawked once before taking flight, disappearing the way it had come, in a swoosh of feathers.

-

Elrohir and Elladan were seated in the rose garden on an ornate metal bench waiting anxiously.

“He’s not going to read it,” the younger twin stated dejectedly.

“Then we shall find another way,” his brother stated with conviction.

It felt like they had been sitting there for an age when Elrohir finally gave a yelp and pointed to the sky. The eagle flew in a line following the river up to the main waterfall then banked, gliding majestically across the gardens finally coming into land on the back of the bench. Elrohir moved away fearfully, at the action.

Elladan chuckled in amusement at his twin’s nervous move while the bird preened for a moment, before reaching down and pulling the missive from the pouch and dropping it into the elder twin’s hands.

“Well?” Elrohir’s eyes were wide in anticipation, his nerves barely held in check.

Elladan smiled and his twin moved to sit closer to him.

“He read our missive and wishes time to consider our words.” He handed the note into his brother’s hands that he might see for himself.

“Then our case is not so hopeless.” Elrohir threw his arms about his twin and kissed him jubilantly.

-

The evening meal gave no chance for Erestor to consider the events of the day, for Lord Elrond was entertaining a delegation of elves from Lothlórien. He was seated between two talkative advisors who were intent on garnering all they could from him on the issues surrounding the treaty. The twins were at the table and occasionally he would lock eyes with one or other of them across the table and feel such intense desire and love well up in him that he was amazed that it was not clear to every elf in the room.

From the table the party moved into the Hall of Fire, where Lindir and his minstrels regaled them with tales and sung songs well into the night. Erestor could not see the twins at all in the darkened room but was sure that at times he felt the weight of their gaze upon him, the thought of them covertly watching him sent shivers of desire through his body.

-

When the lights went up in the Hall of Fire, Erestor was disappointed that the twins were no longer present and bidding farewell to their guests, made his way back to his chambers alone.

Shutting the door firmly behind him, he picked up the missive from his desk and wandered through to his bedchamber. His eye was caught then by the chair that leaned ridiculously against the door and he thought himself foolish. He moved it back to its place by the bureau and readied himself for bed.

Slipping into the bed he took up the missive once more and considered the declarations within. He would be a fool not to act on his feelings, for love was the greatest prize that an elf could aspire to, and did he not feel for them what they felt for him? Though it was a risk, surely it was one worth taking. He loved them, had known this even before Elrohir’s misunderstood approach, and he knew that he would mourn the loss of their love now even if their actions had been deceitful; but they had given him words of love and they had offered him a chance and a choice. He would take it.

Resolved, he placed the missive to one side and became determined to close the distance between them, he would tell them tomorrow, he would wait no longer. Decided, he curled up ready to sleep and prayed that the nightmares would pass him by this night.

-

Elrohir slipped out of the bed and pulled on his leggings with practised ease when he heard Erestor call out that night. Even when the door had been barred to him he had done so, sitting against the offending restriction and sending what comforting thoughts he could through the barriers between them. He padded across the balcony and tried the handle and smiled in relief when the door swung open.

The advisor sat upright on the bed and even in the dim light Elrohir could see the tremors that wracked through his body. His hands covered his face as he sobbed. This was the first time that the twins had come upon him awake in the night and the fact worried Elrohir as clearly the nightmares were growing more intense.

“Erestor?”

The elf froze in his movements, uncovering his eyes fearfully and gazing up at the twin. He stared at him for a long while unseeing, until finally some recognition crossed his face and he relaxed wiping at his eyes.

Elrohir moved forward then to sit upon the side of the bed and offered his arms; he had been too forward once before and he would not take that chance again. But Erestor did not seem to take it amiss, laying his head upon the twin’s shoulder. And deeming this to be assent, he wrapped his arms around the advisor’s trembling form.

“Elrohir?” He sobbed.

“Shh love, I’m here.” Without thinking he pressed his lips to the advisor’s neck, at once realizing what he had done and cursed himself but his heart danced to feel Erestor respond by running a hand up his naked back to rest at the base of his neck.

Encouraged, Elrohir kissed his neck again, watching carefully for any sign that this was not what the advisor wanted. Receiving none, he pulled away to look at Erestor’s tear stained face and attempted to remove them with butterfly kisses over his cheeks, before finally emboldened by the hands that caressed his back and sides, he leaned forward and placed an experimental kiss upon Erestor’s lips.

When he did not move away and showed no signs of discomfort and a small sigh escaped his lips, Elrohir kissed him with more confidence. Feeling the response in the lips beneath his, he allowed Erestor to take charge of the progress of their intimacy. The elf’s reaction was tentative but soon grew bolder and quite naturally their kiss deepened, tongues duelling playfully as they embraced.

The hand upon his head alerted Elrohir to his brother’s presence and he smiled into the kiss. Erestor however, was startled to feel the lips kissing his neck tenderly. He pulled away and Elladan smiled at him.

“Have you forgiven us?” he asked gently, nuzzling at his neck.

Fully awake now and well distracted from the nightmares that had awakened him, Erestor took stock of his situation. Elrohir’s arms still encircled his waist, though he sat in a manner that could not be considered too intrusive; Elladan sat behind him, his hand idly tracing his back and occasionally stroking the lines of his neck.

This was real, not some charged dream, and Erestor wondered why it was that he felt entirely at ease with the situation. He gasped to see Elladan pull his brother into a heated kiss that spoke of a long intimacy, and he thought the scene beautiful and desirable, the heat that suffused him at the sight pooling in his groin unbidden.

His sigh brought the twins back to themselves and they broke apart, and turned their attentions onto him. But Erestor held up his hand to halt any further seduction.

He addressed Elladan, who had lain down with his head resting in his lap to better see his face, “I do not believe there is or was anything to forgive, I misinterpreted, that is all. But understand, both of you that I need time to come to terms with this change in our relationship and to sort out my feelings. If you can afford me this time, and we take things slowly, then I shall be content.”

“It shall be as you say, we have no desire to worry you,” Elladan’s hand reached out to cup Erestor’s face at his words, a soft smile touching his lips. “But I have a request.”

When he paused again to rise to his knees, both Elrohir and Erestor looked at him expectantly.

“May I beg a kiss?”

Elrohir chuckled softly into Erestor’s ear, “You will find we always share.” Then he took the advisor’s earlobe into his mouth in a move that made him shiver, and he answered by drawing Elladan to him with a hand at the base of his neck.

Erestor sighed as Elladan assaulted his mouth; where his twin’s moves had been gentle and submissive, so his brother was demanding and passionate, and the feeling of Elrohir’s hands exploring his body, kissing and nipping at his neck almost had him undone. At that moment, he recalled a wry comment that King Gil-galad had once made to him in tiredness after a council meeting ‘Pity the elf whose lovers are two.’

At the time he had thought nothing of it assuming the elf made some bawdy joke he did not understand, but under this sweet assault he suddenly thought he knew.

Elladan broke away at Erestor’s gentle insistence, burying his head into his hair and giving his attention to the other side of his neck with tongue, teeth and lips.

“Did your father and his twin ever take a lover, as you would take me?” Erestor asked, unsure how such a question would be received.

Elladan answered, “Aye, but we are not permitted to tell you who.”

The advisor laughed. “You need not, I already know. And I’m a fool for not thinking of it before.”

Elrohir pulled back to look at him in surprise, before he touched Erestor’s face. “It was not common knowledge, I see no fools here.” He leaned forward to place a chaste kiss upon his lips.

Erestor stifled a yawn.

“You should rest,” Elrohir stated.

“May we stay and hold you?” Elladan added.

Erestor nodded once, a smile touching his lips. The twins grinned at each other and slipped into the bed, one on either side of the advisor.

He was close to sleep when Elladan reached over him and replaced the candle that was almost burnt down with a second pushed into the melted wax of its predecessor. This sight he filed away for later consideration; for some reason, it struck him as important. He curled into Elrohir, laying his head upon his shoulder, as Elladan embraced him from behind.

-

Elladan and Elrohir stepped into the sitting room off the side of the Hall of Fire. Elrond was reading a book in one of the chairs and did not look up even when the twins collapsed on the divan opposite, a move that would normally have had him frowning.

“Ada?”

“Mmhm?”

The brothers smiled at their father’s distraction before Elrohir spoke up once more.

“Ada, we have made our choice.”

“What choice?”

Elladan snorted. “Brother I am surprised. I had imagined our Adar might have some interest in our life choice, shall we change our mind to spite him?” he teased.

Elrond’s book snapped shut and he looked at them with startled eyes. Elladan’s teasing statement could be interpreted in many ways.

Elrohir rolled his eyes. “Our mind is made, and we shall not change it.”

Elrond placed his book to one side and turned to study his sons. He always knew this day would come, but now that the moment was here, he feared what they would have to say. The silence had been drawn out long enough for Elladan to start talking about the foal that had been born to one of the breeding mares. Elrond raised a hand to silence him.

“Please do not torture me with evasion, and tell me.”

“We love Erestor, Ada,” Elrohir started

“And we would not willingly part from him now,” Elladan continued.

Elrond held his breath but was heartened by their words as he looked at them expectantly.

“We would call ourselves elves,” they stated in unison.

Elrond felt as if the weight of a thousand years of worry and stress had been lifted from his shoulders as he rose to embrace his sons. The twins would not be lost to mortality, he thought with a relieved sigh and giddy grin.

-

“You wanted to see me, My Lord?”

“Ah Erestor, please come in, and take a seat.”

Erestor did so warily. Elrond seemed happy, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to face an audience with the father of his lovers and he was unsure how Elrond would feel about them courting an elf with little noble blood in his veins.

“You are courting my sons?”

Erestor smiled a little, not certain it wasn’t the other way about. He nodded in reply.

“My Lord, I realise that you might be disappointed at their choice. I am hardly an elf of any lineage, but I do love them and I would be true to them.”

Elrond’s eyes narrowed for a moment assessing the elf before he spoke again.

“Erestor, my sons love you and by all accounts you are an elf of character and skill. I daresay I could not ask for better.” Elrond paused, a touch of a smile to his lips. “And as for myself, you have gifted me with the thing that I value above all things, the immortality of my sons. For that alone I would afford you every privilege that is in my power to give.”

Erestor stared at him open mouthed, scarcely able to comprehend what he was hearing. He had worried a great deal about the reaction that Elrond would have to the love that he bore the twins, but to have the blessing of their father was more than he had dreamed possible.

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Elrond smiled. “You are to be family Erestor, and there need be no titles between us. Now onto another matter that concerns me. As you know I am in need of a chief advisor. It is my hope that you will agree to take on that position?”

“I would be glad to, except for my fealty to Lord Círdan.” Erestor looked uncomfortable.

“I have a confession to make Erestor, and I hope you will not take it amiss. I have already approached Círdan tentatively on this matter.”

Erestor looked startled.

“You have already proved to be an asset to this realm; it was my hope that you could have been persuaded to stay on in an advisory role even without these current developments.”

“I see,” Erestor stuttered, unsure what to make of this. “What did he say?”

Elrond laughed a little nervously, worried by the stiffening of Erestor’s countenance, the elf did not seem pleased by his meddling.

“Círdan believes your talents are wasted in the assistant position you currently hold, he is willing to see you released provided the situation is to your advantage, he cares a great deal about what happens to you, Erestor. Apparently he has been concerned for some time that your position at the Havens is at a stand; he will release you if you wish to take on the position. My sons are the heirs of this realm; their place is here. I would have you make Imladris your home, also.”

“My Lord.” Erestor blushed, realising his mistake. “Elrond, I am an honoured by your offer. Imladris already feels like home to me, and where my heart is, is where I belong. I would be glad to accept the position you offer me, provided my Lord Círdan has no objections.”

“Excellent! I shall make the necessary arrangements.” Elrond grinned; this was turning out to be a very good day indeed.

-

Erestor was lying propped upon the twins’ bed with Elladan curled against him as he idly ran his fingers through the auburn hued hair and Elrohir sat cross-legged in front of them, watching the scene with a soft smile upon his lips.

“I think that your nightmares are becoming worse,” the younger twin said gently. “It worries me.”

Erestor shifted uneasily, causing Elladan to be displaced from his comfortable position, and he glared at his twin for disturbing his repose.

“You know it’s true, E’dan,” Elrohir said before directing his comments to Erestor. “When you were newly released from the healing house, your sleep was not so restless; we rarely visited you two nights in a row.”

Erestor’s eyes narrowed in the face of this new information. And at once he remembered how oftentimes he would wake in the morning to see the candle had been changed at some point in the night and still burned brightly on the side table. There were differences in the manner of the replacement too, at times the candle had been exchanged cleanly, the old substituted entirely with the new, and on other occasions the remnants of an older candle had been used to secure the new. He had never given it much thought before, but he had seen Elladan replace the candle in the latter manner, and now the act seemed to emphasise the twins’ devotion to him; his features relaxed.

“You cared for me even then?” he asked in amazement.

Elladan smiled, kissing the palm of his hand. “It was love we felt though we did not know it then, you are not angry with us for invading your privacy?”

“How could I be when you kept my fears away and afforded me peace, though had I known, I might have taken to wearing sleeping attire!”

Elladan snorted, “I for one would not wish to see such beauty hidden.” To emphasise his words, he lifted a hand to part the house coat Erestor wore, slipping it off one shoulder to expose his chest.

“E’dan,” Elrohir growled warningly and his brother sighed. They had agreed to try to draw out their beloved on the content of his nightmares and his twin would see they were not distracted in their goal. He gave Elrohir a look that said ‘spoil sport’, but stopped in his lustful actions.

“I’m sorry I disturb your rest,” Erestor said contritely.

“Don’t be,” Elrohir replied gently, “but we would have you mend, and as the healer amongst us I say that you must speak of your dreams, and of what happened to you. There can be no healing until you bring your dark thoughts into the light. Let us help you, love?”

“I can’t!”

“You can.” Elladan spoke softly, sitting up a little to wrap his arms about Erestor’s form. “We will help you to fight your demons and stand with you always.”

Erestor still looked uneasy but Elrohir was sure he saw some sign of his determination slipping and he dared ask, “What happened in the council chamber, Erestor?”

The advisor’s eyes went wide and fearful, clearly surprised and worried by Elrohir’s direct and specific question.

“We are here,” Elladan murmured as Erestor wiped a hand over his face.

“They came from nowhere, men of many different races, coarse men.” Erestor shuddered and Elladan tightened his embrace.

His eyes dropped to his hands, “They slaughtered everyone, even the page. He was only a young boy, no more than six years!”

He looked up once more to meet Elrohir’s sympathetic gaze. “Not me though, they didn’t know what I was. They thought me a maiden at first and I’m sure you can imagine how they worked out I was not.” Erestor gave a choked sound.

“To my disgrace, I did not even fight them…. not then, anyhow. I did not have the wits to. You must understand, I had never seen a man die before that day, it horrified me!”

Elladan threaded his fingers through Erestor’s and squeezed his hand gently to offer what succour he could.

“There was much discussion as to what they should do with me.” Pausing, he added wryly, “And to me.” Elrohir thought he was too calm, like he was telling a tale of something that had happened to somebody else.

“There was a dark skinned man there that took an interest in me, he seemed to be a leader of sorts, a Southlander I think, and he had some notion of presenting me as a spoil of war or some such nonsense, for it was an unprovoked massacre not a war! Others disagreed and at last washed their hands of the whole issue calling me the Southlander’s responsibility.

I was blindfolded and trussed to a horse, and the throng rode away, it was not until much later that I realised that where I had heard many horses now I heard only five or six, I don’t know what happened to the others. We rode for many hours and when finally the party stopped and my blindfold removed, it was dark. The Southlander stayed close to me for a time, he was graphic in his description of his master’s likely interest in me, and what awaited me at my journeys end, but he did not seem to share the same desire and for that I was thankful. I was kept apart from the others and for the most part they paid me no heed.”

Erestor closed his eyes remembering that night. One man’s eyes were always upon him, appraising and lustful. At one time during the evening he had approached him but the Southlander had barked at the man to return to the fire and keep his eyes and hands from the master’s toy.

Elladan murmured something unintelligible and reassuring in his ear and he was brought back to himself.

“Are you alright?” Elrohir asked gently, clearly concerned.

Erestor nodded. “You are right Elrohir, both of you,” he said putting his hand upon Elladan’s knee. “I have let this event hold me in thrall too long…though I fear the telling, it is my hope that with the telling comes the relief.”

“That is our wish, too,” Elladan said softly and Elrohir nodded at the words.

“There was one among the group that wanted me, lusted after me, but while the others watched I was safe from his advances, the Southlander’s ways were crude and his speech filthy but he had not laid a hand upon me and he had called the others to task for considering doing so. To him I was nothing so much as a chattel to be delivered, and protected from harm if necessary.

Later that night the uncouth man with the lustful eyes came to where I was tied to a tree, his eyes wanting, his words taunting and base. I confess I used his desire against him and in doing so persuaded him to untie me; I let the game go on for a short time to avoid suspicion, before I fought him. But the man was strong and large and easily subdued me, for I am not a warrior, but I did cry out and this brought the camp awake but not before I had loosed a hand and stuck the man’s own dagger in his gut.

In the moment when the man slumped down cursing I was so startled by what I had done and the blood upon my hand that I made no move to flee as I should have. The others were upon me before I found my wits and my position was unaltered and worse; I had murdered one of them.” Erestor shuddered in Elladan’s arms, his voice incredulous.

“Nay love, you defended yourself bravely, that is all.”

Erestor raised an elegant brow sardonically at Elrohir’s words. “I daresay the Southlander did not think so…or perhaps he did, for it seemed the fellow was not well liked and after a fashion a few days later he thanked me for my deed. The man was dead by dawn, they made no attempt to treat his wound just left him where he had fallen and his eyes burned into me through the night, with curses and threats upon his lips while he could still speak.

I was in their company for two weeks or so, all the while travelling East to I knew not where. The last six days we spent upon a pass through the mountains, it was wide tracked and well travelled, but we saw no others on our journey so far as I was aware. My captors treated me as courteously as I’m sure they were able, even more so than they had before I had felled their companion.”

“They respected you,” Elladan breathed into his ear and the thought seemed incredible to him, but then again had he not once or twice caught fear in the younger men’s eyes? The thought was strangely pleasing to him.

“The last night I spent in their company they were in good spirits and the Southlander took much joy in informing me that in just three more nights I would be in my master’s bed.” Erestor shuddered. “We moved on before dawn the next day as they wanted to make it through the pass by nightfall and little did I know that once they secured my blindfold, I would never see any of them again. I cannot say that I am sorry but compared to what was to come I had been treated like a prince.”

Elrohir moved then to sit closer, he had the unnerving feeling that the tale so far was the easiest and most pleasant to recall. Taking Erestor’s hand into his own he kissed the knuckles. “Can you continue?”

Erestor looked at him strangely. “If I do not do so now, then I fear I never shall.” Elrohir nodded once in reply while his thumb rubbed the back of the hand he held soothingly.

“I believe it was past nightfall when the group was attacked, as there had been much discussion about where they would camp that night and the Southlander had insisted they travel on to the end of the pass. I can give you no details of the attack itself, trussed as I was and blind to it, but it happened very fast and my captors lost.

The next thing I knew the blindfold was ripped from my eyes and I was staring into the eyes of an orc; its breath was rancid against my face and the eyes entirely unnatural. There was some short exchange and a dead body was thrown over the horse next to me, I recognised the sandy hair of one of the youngest of the group, he was dead. A second joined the first and I believe more would have followed until the horse’s back was broken but for another brief exchange in their foul tongue.

We travelled for a time before the horse was cut down beneath me and I was knocked unconscious when my head hit the ground. When I awoke I was underground I think, bound hand to foot in darkness so complete I had no notion of my surroundings, but that the stench was unbearable.

But bear I did, endure I did. I was brought into another small chamber at regular intervals for the amusement of my captors. There they would cut me and taunt me, beat me and occasionally they would make me watch as they tortured to death some poor soul, peasant folk mostly, they were always so terrified and their fear seemed to fuel the creatures. Perhaps this is why they always tired of me, for I could see how they loved to see the fear in the eyes of their victim, and after a time, I denied them that. I do not fear Mandos, and I was sure that I would die there and was at peace with that, as much as one can be, so they had no hold on me.”

Elrohir moved to embrace Erestor more completely, for though his manner was coherent and deliberate, a tremor had entered the previously measured voice.

“I was fed irregularly and watered even less and oftentimes the rations they gave me made me sick to my stomach, but some part of me was holding onto life. I have no notion of how long I was there; there were no days, only eternal darkness. The torture and death all about me wore at my spirit and tore at my heart, till I was numb with it and uncaring if I were to live or die.”

Erestor paused for a long moment and the twins locked gazes with each other, their eyes wide in startled disbelief and wet with unshed tears at all their love had endured.

“And then you came.” Erestor’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper as his hands wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Oh beloved,” Elrohir said softly, empathetically, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his emotions.

Erestor untangled himself from their embrace and rose from the bed.

“Love?” Elladan asked, finally finding his voice.

The advisor shook his head, dismissing the concern in his voice. “I need a moment.”

At that comment he disappeared into the bathing chamber and shut the door behind him, a moment later the twins could here the pool being filled.

Left alone, the twins moved to embrace each other, comforting one another.

“Do you remember the date of the attack, El’ir? How long was he in that tomb?” Elladan asked brokenly.

“By my reckoning, he was with the orcs for a moon and a half.”

“Valar! I cannot imagine even the toughest warrior enduring what he has.”

Elrohir wiped the tears from his eyes. “Nor I.”

They held each other close, wept and cursed the cruelty in the world and comforted each other, while beyond the bathing chamber door an elf that had endured much wept alone; his healing begun.

That night Erestor slept through the dark, dreamlessly, a twin on either side. And the brothers watched the night pass, unable to find rest themselves for their thoughts were busy and their desire to protect the elf that they loved strong.

-

Erestor stood on the main balcony watching the preparations going on in the gardens below. In a week he was to be bound and he was awaiting the day in eager anticipation and no small measure of excitement and awe.

His relationship with the twins was still a courtship and though they made no secret of their desire for him they kept a leash upon their wants. For though Erestor was no innocent in these matters the twins were mindful of his fragile state and his need to feel secure in their relationship.

Erestor laughed to himself; it had been two months now since he had revealed the events that had led him to the orcs’ tomb, and since that time the twins had been attentive but also wary of his state. In truth, Erestor felt himself more robust than either elf gave him credit for. Also he had found that from the day he had shared those dreadful events, in talking and in comfort he had come to some peace of mind, healed as Elrohir would say.

Visitors were beginning to fill up the house now for the Spring Festival and the twin’s bonding. The event was based loosely upon the Gondolin festival of the Gates of Summer, a tradition revived by Glorfindel in honour of the fallen city and those that lost their lives there. Far from being a sombre affair it was a time of celebration, of remembering and of thankfulness, it awed Erestor that despite all Glorfindel had suffered on that day, he could still find the will to be so joyful at this time of year, it made all he had endured seem so very insignificant.

“Not having doubts, I hope?”

Erestor jumped at the words softly spoken behind him and he turned to see the object of his musings standing there, a teasing grin upon his face.

“Nay, just watching the preparations.”

Glorfindel snorted. “I still say that you are the bravest elf I know to wish to take on those two for an eternity!”

“And I still say it is your loss.” Erestor grinned at this familiar exchange.

“Quite so,” Glorfindel replied, sceptically matching his grin. “I wanted to let you know right away that your friend and stalwart protector Cullóm just rode in, he came alone, do you have no kin at the Havens?”

“Nay, it has been an age since my kin sailed over the sea.” Glorfindel nodded once, wondering if this was the reason behind Erestor’s often solitary manner.

“Where is Cullóm lodged?”

The Golden Lord looked contrite. “We had to put him in the barracks, as there are no available rooms in the main house.”

Erestor nodded. “I daresay he won’t mind; I think I will wander over there and greet him.”

-

The two met on the walkway between the barracks and the main house, and greeted warmly. Arm in arm, they wandered into the gardens.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Erestor rolled his eyes. “Did you actually read my missive?”

Cullóm laughed self-consciously, “Aye, I did, but I was not content to believe it, considering the way things stood when I left here.”

“I have never been happier and all that I wrote is true, does this satisfy you?”

The Havens elf studied his friend carefully, and thought he looked well and glowed with happiness. “It does, I think; for I cannot deny that you look well, positively glowing. I am truly happy for you, my friend.”

Erestor blushed, “Thank you.”

“Which reminds me, I have a missive for you, from Lord Círdan.”

Erestor joined him on the bench as he opened up the messenger bag to retrieve the sealed missive. He handed it over and sat back watching the comings and goings in the garden and giving Erestor time to consider the letter in peace.

Cullóm cocked a brow curiously at Erestor’s broad grin, and his laugh.

“I daresay I shouldn’t be so happy at this news, but I cannot help myself. I am released from Lord Círdan’s service and he sends me his best wishes for my bonding.”

“Congratulations, my friend.”

-

Elrohir stood upon the balcony of Lindir’s chambers, gazing across the blue and silver strewn gardens. The minstrel had been kind enough to relocate to the barracks and share a room with his lover there on the night before the bonding ceremony, while Cullóm was moved to the twins’ rooms to assist Erestor in his preparations and to be close.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

Elladan appeared at the door and stepped forward to wrap his arms around his twin’s waist. “It would be a beautiful day even if it was raining and cold.” He kissed Elrohir’s cheek. “Are you nervous?”

“A little…you?”

Elladan chuckled, “Aye a little. We should get ready.”

-

Erestor was standing under a tree resplendent in midnight blue, his hair carefully and intricately braided with silver beads that sparkled in the light. Beside him Cullóm was dressed in his ceremonial uniform of blue and gold, his hair in the traditional braids of a Havens guard.

“Nervous?” His friend asked gently, though he needn’t have, for the answer was obvious; the advisor was shaking in his boots.

Erestor glared at him.

“It’s time,” Cullóm stated offering his arm as the minstrels took up a cheerful and whimsical tune.

The bonding of two elves or in this case three was not an event that needed witnessing in the manner of men, it could be a private affair with vows made and the subsequent joining witnessed by the Valar alone. However, Elladan and Elrohir were noble blooded and heirs of one of the great Elven Realms, and there were many that wished to celebrate their bonding.

Their vows to each other and to Erestor, their chosen, were spoken beneath a garland strewn pavilion in the rose garden, with Glorfindel standing for the twins resplendent in the white and gold of Gondolin, and Cullóm of the Havens for their beloved Erestor. The ceremony was short and once the vows had been made, Elrond had stepped forward to ask the Valar to bear witness to his sons’ life choice. And many there were unable to contain their joy at this announcement, and the relief of the way of their choice was seen on many a face. Some were better able than others to contain their delight, as to one side of the pavilion Celeborn of Lothlórien took up his wife’s hand, and in a move quite unlike the stoic Lord, had kissed the knuckles in his joy, his wife fair beaming beside him.

In this manner, Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris took Erestor of the Havens unto themselves and pledged themselves to him in turn.

The day was long with well wishes and joviality, and the three had scarcely a moment to themselves. So it was that in desperation and in weariness they beat a retreat, leaving an obliging Seneschal to make their farewells.

-

“At last!” Elladan puffed leaning against the now closed door to their chambers.

Within, the rooms were festooned with garlands and a dish of sweetmeats sat upon the table of the sitting room, to satisfy later hungers.

For a moment there was silence, each looking at the other awkwardly, till the key turning in the lock broke the pause and Elladan walked from the door to take Erestor’s hand. Holding another out to Elrohir he pulled the two into the bedchamber.

“Looks like a floral explosion went off in here,” Elladan stated wryly, moving long stemmed roses from the bed and pushing them into the vases about the room.

Erestor picked one up and held it to his nose. “They are beautiful.”

Elrohir stepped forward then to wrap his arms about his new bond mate’s waist. “You are beautiful,” he breathed.

And when Erestor’s head dropped shyly as was his habit upon hearing such flattery, Elladan bridged the distance to lift his chin, and repeated his twin’s remark, before leaning in to taste his lips. His kiss was tender in his distraction as he worked upon the fastenings of Erestor’s robe, growling as his fingers slipped on the small beads.

Pushing him insistently back, Erestor chuckled, “So eager,” and he reached out a finger to trace beneath the collar of Elladan’s tunic and cocked a brow as if to say, I shall not be the only one disrobed this night.

The twin grinned pulling the tunic over his head and tossing it onto a chair, the under tunic followed thereafter, and a second set joined the first as Elrohir did likewise.

Erestor bit his lip. Elladan’s skin shone alluringly in the golden light of the sunset, his already hardened length an obvious bulge within his leggings. Erestor pulled him forward then and kissed him fiercely, a hand sneaking down to trace the length between his legs.

Elrohir sighed watching the erotic scene, taking a moment to succeed where his brother had failed and guided the advisor to slip the robes from his shoulders. The fine blue velvet made a puddle around them as Elrohir pressed in closer, his hands slipping beneath Erestor’s leggings to cup his backside. This action caused his back to arch, pressing him closer to Elladan’s body.

Elladan’s lacings were undone, his length standing proudly and aroused as Erestor moved him backward till the twin’s knees hit the bed and he tumbled onto his back, legs wide, and eyes needy. Displaced, Elrohir stood for a moment watching his twin laid out in all his glory, and so distracted was he by this tempting sight that he was startled when Erestor pulled him into a heated kiss, and his lacings went the way of his brother’s.

Elrohir’s fingers made short work of the beaded clasps upon Erestor’s own leggings and once more slipped his hands beneath to cup the elf’s backside, pushing the leggings down with the move, just a moment before he too was tipped onto the bed.

It was only then that the twins noticed the uneasiness in Erestor’s eyes, though he did not try to hide his own arousal. Elladan was the first to move, sitting up and urging his anxious mate to sit.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, I,” he stuttered softly clearly embarrassed.

“Ssh, love…we are here.” Elrohir supplied, rubbing Erestor’s back soothingly.

“It’s been so long,” he murmured, the twin’s locked eyes and slight nod of the head concluded their silent conversation.

“Tell us what you want?” Elladan asked gently.

“To watch a time,” he answered; his tone held a hint of guilt.

“Let me undress you?” Elrohir had slipped off the bed and pulled off Erestor’s leggings discarding them where they lay. “What say you brother, can I rouse your interest?” he continued, slipping out of his own and standing before them fully exposed, a finger lifting the weight of his length and an eyebrow cocked questioningly.

Erestor crawled up the bed then to recline against the pillows, watching every move as Elrohir pushed his twin up the bed and laid full length against him plundering his mouth with fervour. His hands explored the planes of his twin’s chest, breaking away only to grumble at the leggings his brother still wore. They rolled apart and Elrohir moved up the bed and cocked his head for a kiss from the advisor before Elladan claimed his attention once more.

This time it was the elder that took charge, leaning over his twin’s prone form, teasing at nipples with teeth and tongue. Elrohir arched pleasingly at the contact, twisting his head in such a way that he could see Erestor’s dark gaze upon them.

The advisor was aroused and the sight before him was almost too much, as the two moved together with familiarity, no small measure of lust fuelling their movements, and his eyes did not miss a single kiss or lick as Elladan seduced his twin. Without warning the older moved off, crossing the room to enter the bathing chamber beyond, behind him. Elrohir writhed and whimpered at the sudden loss of contact and pitying him, Erestor reached out to stroke his chest, rolling a taut nipple between his fingers.

“Join us?” Elrohir pleaded and Erestor bent to whisper in his ear.

“I want to see you filled, beloved,” and the younger twin moaned wantonly at the suggestion, and whimpered aloud as he was soundly kissed.

Elladan returned then, crawling onto the bed and taking Elrohir’s place in kissing Erestor, plundering his mouth lasciviously as he slipped the vial fetched from elsewhere into his hand.

Elrohir gasped as his twin flipped him over to lie upon his front and slapped his backside playfully in an order to rise upon his knees. He did so willingly, panting with desire as Elladan caressed and parted the mounds of flesh that concealed the entrance to his body.

Erestor poured a goodly amount of oil into Elladan’s hand when it was held out to him and watched in fascination and building desire the way he prepared his twin, and the way that the fingers disappeared within the lithe body as Elrohir moaned all the while, his length hard and dripping between his legs.

Elladan moved then to kiss Erestor hard before burying his head into his hair to ask, “Are you still content to watch, beloved? He is ready if you want him.”

Erestor’s length throbbed between his legs but he pushed aside the want in him. “It is my greatest desire to see you claim your twin, I have dreamt of it.” His voice was husky and thick with desire. “Mount him, and ride him. I am content to watch, for now.”

Elrohir made a plaintive sound thinking himself forgotten and Elladan grinned. “As you wish my, love.”

Erestor watched then as Elladan positioned himself and pressed forward easing his slick length with deceptive ease into the tight channel, his eyes closed and his lips parted as he sheathed himself in one slow move. Elrohir turned his head then to look at Erestor sitting there, his eyes triumphant at his filling, and the advisor thought he had never seen a more perfect sight. So similar they were one to another, yet they seemed to fit together so perfectly, one inside the other.

And as Elladan pulled out, Erestor was fascinated by the play of muscles in the younger twin’s legs as the hands upon his hip restrained him as he pushed against them, reacting to the loss.

Then in earnest, Elladan did as he had been asked and rode his twin with long smooth strokes, and the advisor moved a hand to his own length, now wet with his desire.

He did not notice that the twins were moving their position on the bed until he could no longer see the place where they were joined. Elrohir was thrust forward each time Elladan’s length entered him fully but his eyes were fixed upon Erestor hungrily. And when the younger twin was aligned he moved the arms that held him in the position for his taking over Erestor’s legs and looked up at him with doe like eyes.

“I want to taste you,” he panted. And Erestor was not certain what he meant until a tongue snaked out to lick at the head of his length.

“Valar! Aye!” And he raked his hands through Elrohir’s soft hair as he took him into his mouth, timing his strokes to match Elladan’s deep thrusts within.

Elladan’s eyes were dark in his impassioned state as he watched his twin going down upon the advisor and the movement of Erestor’s hips thrusting deep within his twin’s slack throat, a look of impassioned bliss upon his face, and he knew he would not be able to hold back his release much longer.

But it was Erestor who was the first to arch into his release, his exalted cry echoing through the chamber just a moment before he went limp, falling back amongst the cushions, spent.

Elrohir cursed and glared at his twin when he pulled out of him without warning and Elladan moved to lie beside the spent elf. He pulled his twin into a kiss and murmured ‘later’ through their bond, ‘I promise to make it up to you, beloved’ and Elrohir’s eyes narrowed sceptically, not quite ready to forgive.

They lay that way for a long time as Erestor recovered and Elladan was quick to brush aside the advisor’s concerns at their lack of release, twin arousals waning at the lack of play. They asked gentle questions of their beloved’s preferences, their loving tender as they lay together entwined until Erestor’s length twitched in rebirth.

Then Elrohir coaxed the advisor onto his side and loved him gently, encouraging the elf to explore him thoroughly. And Erestor’s leg moved over Elrohir’s hip naturally at their languorous moves, allowing Elladan access to his entrance inadvertently.

Erestor moaned into the younger twin’s mouth as an oiled finger circled his entrance and a hand hooked over his shoulder rolled a nipple between its fingers. He arched into Elladan’s ministrations and was rewarded with a kiss and a nip to the back of his neck.

A ragged sigh escaped his lips as Elladan’s first finger entered him, and he was prepared thoroughly as Elrohir seduced him, distracting him from the discomfort of long abstinence.

Elladan’s arousal throbbed painfully once more, the advisor was tight, more so than his twin and the thought of burying himself within had his blood pumping; but he would cause no pain with his taking, so his preparations were careful and thorough.

At Elladan’s nod, Elrohir accepted the oil onto his hands and moved to coat Erestor’s hardened flesh. His eyes, closed in ecstasy, snapped open at the touch and Elrohir’s eyes blazed lustfully back at him just a moment before the younger twin moved to his elbows and knees presenting himself to be taken at last.

Erestor though, rolled him to lie upon his back wanting to see the beautiful face as he pumped into him. The twins exchanged a glance before finally Elrohir acquiesced, parting his legs to allow him to lie between them and rolled his hips upwards and bent his legs to allow better access.

Elrohir was still loose from the earlier joining but Erestor was larger than his twin and he gasped as the hardened length pressed into him. Willing his channel to relax as the advisor stilled, he was filled so completely and the thought of it and of that hardness driving into him made his heart race and his own length twitch impatiently against his stomach.

Erestor started slightly as Elladan moved in behind him, parting his legs thus pushing Elrohir’s legs wider apart and settling there for a moment as he positioned himself. He entered Erestor slowly, the elf was so tight he feared hurting him and it seemed to take an age before the channel swallowed his arousal with ease.

“Valar!” Erestor hissed. The sensation was quite extraordinary, to fill and be filled as he was, and the first time that Elladan rocked his hips experimentally, pushing him in turn into the twin below him, he thought he might expire right there from the pleasure that assaulted him. Below him, Elrohir reached up to kiss him and the movement pushed him backwards onto Elladan’s length once more and the change in angle meant that he could feel pressure upon his pleasure spot.

Elladan took Erestor’s move against him as readiness, and pulled out, his hands upon Erestor’s hips urging him to do likewise. Plunging back in caused stars to dance in front of his eyes and the two gasps beneath him fuelled the building passion in him. They released their restraint then, falling into a natural rhythm, as they drove, one into the other with abandon and lust.

Erestor was enthralled, never had he felt such passion; behind him, Elladan swept by his sweet spot with every stroke, his firm thrusts filling him completely. And below him, Elrohir writhed wantonly, with his hands about Erestor’s neck so that he could kiss him hard as he pumped into him. More than this, Erestor felt a deeper connection, a joining more spiritual in nature as their joining came to a head. After a time he thought he could feel an echo of the twins’ desire, and somehow their love for each other connected and became the fuel to their physical desires.

Their release was simultaneous, an explosion of feelings held in check for too long. Stars danced and burst behind eyes blinded at the pleasure, and bodies moved in unison still, till the last of the seed was spent and they collapsed, one atop the other, sated and dazed.

A cool breeze drifted in from the balcony door caressing the heated lovers as they lay still entangled in the dying light of the evening. They moved apart lethargically through necessity not will, to find more comfortable positions, and the twins lay to either side of their beloved as was their want. And Erestor sighed, sure his heart would burst with love of them, and deep within him he thought he could feel an echo of their love in turn.

The End.

-

Elvish Translations:

Naneth – Mother

Adar – Father

Ada – Dad

Elleth – Elf Maiden

Faer – The elven spirit (soul)

Ecthelion – An elf of Gondolin whose name was taken up by elves as a battle cry after his heroic deeds and his death at the fall of Gondolin