Not Again?!

Chapter 9

Glorfindel was supporting Elladan with his arms around the twin's waist, slowly lowering him to the ground. Elrond's adviser was firing questions at him in Quenya so fast Ioreth couldn't keep up. She had learned it, but she was still much better at Sindarin, her native language. The other dark-haired ellon behind them had a bruise forming on his throat, and a shocked look on his face.

"Á pusta!" Glorfindel finally ordered, letting Elladan rest on the ground. He reverted to Sindarin the next moment. "Lindir, go fetch Lord Elrond."

The minstrel stood dumbly for a moment, then nodded and darted away, sending strange looks at the few puddles that littered the ground.

Glorfindel looked up from his ministrations. "Well, Erestor, don't just stand there! Help me!"

"What did you do?" the adviser asked, his eyebrows furrowing, but he dropped down next to the Balrog-slayer, his long robes getting muddied. Ioreth clutched Duron closer to her chest and stared in confusion at the unconscious Elladan. His eyes were closed, dark eyelashes a terrifying contrast against his unnaturally pale face.

Erestor's fingers were darting to check the twin's pulse, then up to his forehead. Pulling back an eyelid, he examined his eyes and then sat back, frowning at Glorfindel. "There seems to be nothing wrong. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" protested the Elda, then did a double-take. "Nothing wrong? Did you see his eyes?"

"They're normal. Whatever happened, he doesn't have a concussion." Erestor pulled Elladan's arms up to rest on his chest, then glanced up, seeming to notice Ioreth. His slight frown told her she wasn't wanted there. "Hiril vuin? Why don't you . . . " He looked like he was wracking his mind for a command to give her.

"I'll go help find Elrohir," she volunteered, scurrying away. The sleeping Duron was held tightly to her chest. She didn't want to admit she was scared by the sight of Elladan lying so still like that, but . . .

"Yes, find Elrohir," Erestor agreed, then turned his attention back to the unconscious twin, Glorfindel saying something to him.

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Lindir sprinted across the courtyard, trying to think of nothing but getting Lord Elrond. His throat was was sore, aching with the reminder of what Elladan had done to him. He had stepped on his throat! No, no, not thinking of it. Must tell Lord Elrond, quickly. Refusing to look over his shoulder, he rounded a corner and almost slammed right into two figures. Rebounding, Lindir muttered a hasty apology and was about to go past him when he recognized the fair features and dark hair of the two he had narrowly avoided banging into. His eyes widened. "Your - my lord! Lords! I was just looking for you - Glorfindel sent me, he said that . . . he needs you to," stammered the minstrel, "I mean, Erestor was with him, and someone else - but he fell, and then he went crazy and Glorfindel went to knock him out - "

"Sîdh!" Elrond exclaimed, raising a hand. He took in Lindir's ruffled appearance. "What happened, penneth?"

"I . . . " Lindir took in a deep breath, calming himself as the Elf lord had instructed. He took a quick glance at Elrohir and saw that the younger twin was very pale, his brow beading unnaturally with sweat. "My lords, I just came from the courtyard. Lord Elladan is . . . er, unconscious."

"Oh," sighed Elrond, in partial relief, it seemed. Had he been expecting something worse? Elrohir, however, paled even further, if it was possible.

"El!" the twin gasped, lunging past Lindir. He stopped as a shocking sight greeted his eyes. Erestor and Glorfindel bent over Erestor, their fingers flying as they checked for vitals. Golden hair mixed with black, the ones usually at each others' throats working together. Elrohir had no eyes for the ones kneeling though. He was only looking at his twin who was lying on the ground, his head tipped up and eyes closed in terrifying starkness against his white face. "No!" Panic lending him swiftness, he ran across the courtyard, slipping briefly on a small puddle of water.

For the smallest of moments, Lindir was filled with complete terror as he thought that the younger twin was going to fall. He would hit his head, and the same thing would happen . . . but he regained his elvish balance and continued sprinting toward his brother. Elrond nodded quickly at Lindir before hurrying after his son, his slower pace meaning nothing but that he didn't want to slip on the water. Lindir just stayed where he was, sensing another presence come up beside him. It was Ioreth, her pale grey eyes in worried turmoil as she watched Elrohir reach the trio and shove Glorfindel and Erestor aside, dropping next to his brother. An elfling was cradled in Ioreth's arms, sleeping peacefully and blissfully unaware of the scene in front of them.

Elrohir let a finger graze across his brother's cheek, his fear fading as he could feel Elladan returning to consciousness, slowly but surely. Bending, he scooped his lightweight twin up in his arms, resting his head on the dark hair exactly like his. All of the emotions of the past ten minutes caught up to him - fear, panic, abject terror, and relief - and he finally let it all loose, releasing a long and loud wail that echoed through the courtyard.

Lindir's heart almost stopped when he heard the fervid howl that came from Elrohir. Relief crashed over him when Elrond stopped next to them and his shoulders didn't slump. The twin wasn't dead - oh Valar, how everything would have changed if he was.

Dropping his head and pulling Elladan closer, Elrohir let the tears flow.

Some . . . explanations will be in the next chapter. Some.  If anyone's wondering why Elrohir is so 'emotional,' it's because his brother 'died' then came back to life suddenly. He's super relieved, but wondering what in Arda is going on. And still pretty much in shock, so . . .

Love to hear what you think! And I'm definitely glad to take suggestions...they spark many ideas ;-) Thanks for reading!