Title: A Bond of Brothers 
Chapter Eleven (a) - Grave Consequences
Author: Oakenshield (Oakenshield@lonelymountain.zzn.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Elladan/Elrohir
Warnings/Spoilers: Incest, violence, implied rape and torture
Archive: Anyone who wants it is welcome to have it, just let me know first.
Disclaimer: The characters and the places all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I
am making no profit from this at all.
Summary: Returning to Rivendell, the twins find Celebrian captured by the orcs
of Caradhras. 

------

Chapter Eleven(a) - Grave Consequences


Bleak.

It was the only word Elrohir could think of to describe the weather as he led
his horse down the difficult path that led from the peak of Caradhras.

Surprisingly, for the time of year, the Redhorn was not angry. In fact,
everything was disturbingly quiet. It was wrong. Snow fell gently, no
avalanches came. Rather than howl and bite, the wind moaned mournfully as it
hugged the rocks. The sky was grey and the clouds were low. It was miserable.

The cold was a damp sort that ate into the bones, and it made Elrohir shiver.
He had recovered quickly from his illness during the month he had spent in
Caras Galadhon. His cough had gone and he had gained some weight, though not
all the weight he had lost and he lamented the missing flesh as the bitter
chill seeped through his cloak, wrapping its icy tendrils around his bones. His
breath steamed before him and his cheeks burned in the cold air.

They had passed over the mountain and now they were half way down. The worst of
the journey was over. They would soon be drawing closer to Imladris. They were
nearly home.

Elladan plodded miserably behind Elrohir, speaking only quietly to Daevorn as
he led her through the snow. He had been quiet for days now, barely uttering so
much as a grunt in reply to his brother's frequent attempts at making
conversation.

Elrohir sighed and chewed his lower lip. Elladan had been fine in Caras
Galadhon. They had forgiven each other for their harsh words, and made love
beneath the glow of the Lórien lights, pledging again to stay together through
anything. Elladan had agreed to return to Imladris for Elrohir's sake, but as
they were drawing nearer to their birthplace, Elrohir could feel his twin's
anger intensifying. Returning to Imladris was not going to be easy, and he was
fearful. He was fearful of his father, and he was fearful of Elladan.

Elladan had changed so much since they had run away. He was still the same
Elladan underneath it all, and Elrohir loved him no less than ever, but he was
different. He was colder, harder, angrier. And sometimes Elrohir feared that.
He knew Elladan would never hurt him, but he was somewhat worried about their
father. Elrond did not deserve his pity, but he gave it nonetheless. He would
not like to be in his father's shoes when Elladan faced him once more. Elladan
was no longer the dutiful son, the firstborn who would always do his father's
will, the loving child. No, that had all changed. He had changed the night they
left.

And Elrohir... He did not know how he had changed. Perhaps he had become more
independent. He didn't *need* anyone to look after him anymore, he didn't
*need* Elladan to care for him, but he was so afraid of being alone. He wanted
his family back, all of them, as it had been before. But that could never be.
It was the horrible price he had to pay for his love. And it was worth it, he
kept telling himself so.

He glanced back at Elladan again. It was worth it. It had to be worth it.

"My Lords," Dinendal called to them. "We should rest now. The horses are tired
and night will be upon us very shortly. We passed a small cave a short way
back; we can stay there for the night."

Elrohir looked back at their escort. Lórien's finest guards looked cold and
miserable. He was cold and miserable himself, but he did not want to linger. He
wanted to be home as soon as possible. Waiting on the edge of a knife like this
was terrible.

"We shall rest," Elladan agreed, turning around. "Let us inspect this cave.
Come, Elrohir."

Elrohir walked slowly behind the rest of the party, leaning his head towards
the warm breath of his horse as she puffed by his ear. Elrohir knew that caves
on the Redhorn should always be investigated thoroughly before entering for
they often held more than they appeared; orcs, and worse besides. He had never
faced orcs before, and he did not want to. Glorfindel had trained him how to
fight them, how to kill them, but he hoped he never had to use that skill
practically. It wasn't in him to kill, however evil the creature might be. Who
was he to take away a life? Though he had killed the wolves on Aldhelm's farm.
Was that any different? Was an orc any more evil, or any less animal than a
wild dog? He had killed rabbits for food. Were they any less deserving of life,
even though they were in great number?

He was a killer already.

Elrohir lingered at the threshold of the small space as Dinendal and his men
investigated the back walls and floor. It appeared to be safe. No smells hung
in the air, no bones littered the floor, he noted as he entered. Orcs had not
been here, but still he felt uneasy. Something was wrong.

He walked slowly into the shelter as the Galadhrim unpacked their horses while
Dinendal posted two men to stand watch. Elladan cast himself down on the floor
and wrapped himself in his bedroll, turning his back to everyone.

Elrohir crouched beside his brother, leaving another Elf to unburden his horse.

"It is cold," he said softly, to try to make conversation. Elladan was so
quiet.

"Usually, when the weather is this cold, it is wise to go around the mountains
rather than over them," Elladan replied, rolling back to face his twin.

"If we went around the mountains we would be travelling for weeks and weeks,"
Elrohir sighed. Why did Elladan seem to want to make things doubly difficult?
"This is shortcut."

Elladan snorted quietly and wrapped his blankets tighter around his body. "A
rather risky shortcut, I may say."

Elrohir laid his bedroll out beside Elladan and snuggled close to his back. The
gesture received a few raised eyebrows and mutters from the guards, but he took
no notice of their disapproving murmurs anymore. "We came this way before,
didn't we?" he whispered, nuzzling into the warmth of his twin's neck.

"Well, it was summer then, wasn't it?" Elladan replied tersely, inclining his
head away from Elrohir.

"Well, we've made through, haven't we?!" Elrohir countered, even more tersely.
Elladan was being impossible! "Elladan, why are you being so horrid?!"

He felt him heave a sigh. "I'm just not looking forward to going home."

"Neither am I." Elrohir stroked his twin's hair away from his neck and placed a
gentle kiss on the exposed skin to try to soothe his nerves. He could feel that
Elladan was frantic and he had to do something to comfort him. After all, it
was only because of him that Elladan was returning to face the consequences.

"Oh really?" Elladan turned over quickly and glared into his eyes. "I was under
the impression that you could not wait to get back there!"

"This is not helping, you realise. Stop being in such a ghastly mood. Just
because I want to go home does not mean I will part with you. I do not want
that." He found Elladan's hand beneath their blankets and squeezed it, gazing
tearfully into his brother's eyes. "I am yours forever, Elladan. We will never
be parted again. I do not know what I can do to make you believe me."

With a small smile Elladan took his hand firmly. "I believe you," he whispered.
"And I love you." Placing a tiny kiss on Elrohir's cheek he closed his eyes to
sleep.

******

/'I should have listened to them... I should have listened to them... I should
have listened to them... I should have listened to them...'/

The words had kept repeating in Celebrían's head as claws had torn her cloak
and her gown.

/'They were right. They warned me. I should have listened to them...'/

She had held back tears of shame behind tightly closed eyes as rough hands had
passed her around.

/'Is this my punishment for abandoning my sons? Am I doomed to suffer to my
death this night? No saviour will come.'/

It had happened so quickly. They had come in such great numbers. Her small
party had not stood a chance. They had all been killed. She had been captured.

She was half-naked, whipped, violated, blood soaking her back and soaking her
thighs, pain searing every nerve, poison seeping coldly through her veins, a
small blessing as it numbed the pain. She was left alone, shivering in a corner
while they made merry. Apart from one, an ugly yellow-eyed thing with thick
limbs. He never stopped watching her. She could feel his eyes, though she was
blinded by tears that she would not surrender to.

Another wave of nausea surged through her stomach, but she could not rise to
vomit. She was paralysed. She was helpless, and alone.

She would never be found. She had snuck away in the night, and no one knew
where she had gone. Glorfindel had seen her and Elrond would never forgive him
for not stopping her. She would be missing forever, along with her sons.

Arwen would never forgive her.

She had meant to find them. She had wanted to bring them back.

Turning her face so close to the wall that the sharp rock bit into her cheek,
she released her tears. Her body was burning, her soul was freezing. Her heart
was breaking.

To die, like this...She would welcome death, when it came....

"Elrohir... Elladan...Arwen..." she whispered softly. "Eru, let them forgive
me..."

******

Elrohir awoke with a gasp, sitting upright in a tangle of blankets as an image
of blood and silver hair branded his imagination.

What...? Who...? Where...?

He fought to slow his breathing as a tremor rushed through his body and he
glanced quickly around to discern his surroundings. He was in the cave. Elladan
was at his side. Two guards stood at the entrance. It had been a dream. Just a
dream. But he had been sure he had seen orcs. Briefly. A flash of teeth in the
darkness.

Scrambling to his knees, he reached for his dagger and looked around. Only the
sight of dozing elves. No orcs. It was just a dream...

"My Lord Elrohir?"

He started as a hand fell on his arm and looked up quickly into the face of the
guard named Tinion.

"Is it light?" he asked.

"Barely," Tinion replied, frowning with concern. "Are you well?"

Turning to shake his brother awake, Elrohir rose to his feet. "We should move
on, with all haste," he said. "Something is not right."

"What's the matter, Elrohir?" Elladan woke instantly. "What has happened?"

"I... I do not know!" Elrohir cried, his hands trembling as he wrapped his
bedroll up and fastened his saddle on his horse. He did not know. It was just a
horrid feeling. He had experienced these horrid feelings before, and knew they
were not false. "We must not linger. We must move on."

"As you say, my Lord," Dinendal said and ordered his men to ready themselves.

"Elrohir?" Elladan's arm wrapped around his waist. "My love, what is wrong?" he
whispered.

"I..." Elrohir leaned back into his embrace. "I saw something... I do not
know... But we must move."

"We are moving," Elladan gently squeezed his arm. "Fear not, my darling.
Everything will be all right."

"No, it won't," Elrohir whispered to himself as Elladan hastened away to pack
up his things. "It is very wrong indeed." Fastening his clothing tightly and
fixing his sword to his hip, he took his horse by the bridle and led her to the
mouth of the cave.

"Do not stray far, my Lord," Dinendal called after him.

"I am not a child," Elrohir muttered, walking onto the narrow path to stare
down into the valleys below.

Imladris lay to the west, just a short distance away, hidden in the trees. He
closed his eyes. Could he really smell the water and the pine already? It was
calling to him, like it had called to him in his dreams so many nights for so
many years.

The sky was pale blue, but he could see shafts of sunlight starting to claw
their way over the mountaintops. The day was going to be a cold one.

"Elrohir," Elladan called to him from within the cave. "Come and eat
something."

Elrohir shook his head without turning around and continued scanning the
landscape. It had been ten years since they had come this way, and though it
had been summer then and the land had been green, it barely looked any
different. He was nearly home, and it felt like he had never been away. But
they had been away, and much had happened in that time, to them and surely to
their family. The last thing their parents expected was for them to come home,
and now they were about to turn up at the house, unannounced. And unwanted?

"Elrohir."

He found a piece of lembas pushed into his mouth by Elladan's hand.

"Eat," his brother ordered firmly, kissing him quickly on the cheek before
walking back into the cave.

Elrohir chewed slowly. He was not the slightest bit hungry, in fact the bread
was nearly choking him, but he had to eat it. Elladan had ordered him to. He
had to keep up his strength, lest he become ill again.

The cry of an eagle echoed between the mountains and tears sprung in his eyes
unbidden. To be free... what was it like? Would he ever know? He looked above
as the bird soared over his head, wings spread wide, feathers shimmering in the
light of the daybreak. It was free, and beautiful, yet it looked sad. It was
alone, and looked like it was searching. Did one have to be alone to be free?
Would it have been better if he had died in Mirkwood, and Elladan too? Would
they have been free then? Was that they only way they could be together?

He took a deep breath, wincing as the cold air pulled into his lungs. He had
never felt the cold like that before, and it reminded him of his fate. One day
he and Elladan would die together, then they would know if they could be free.
But not yet. There was much to be done, much trouble to undo, more pain to
cause. It was not fair.

"I should jump," he murmured to himself, looking down at the sharp rocks below.

He felt Elladan's eyes upon his head, his will pulling him back, and he turned
around to face his twin to find him standing at the mouth of the cave with
Daevorn.

"We are ready," Elladan said, walking to his side. "Come away from the edge, my
brother," he said softly, tugging Elrohir by the sleeve. "I would not want you
to fall."

"We both should," Elrohir whispered, freeing his arm to walk ahead without
waiting for the rest of the escort.

Elladan lingered close behind, but far enough away to give him space to
breathe. It wasn't something Elladan often did, he normally fussed, but maybe
he needed to be alone with his own thoughts too.

"Are you all right, my Lord Elrohir?" Dinendal suddenly appeared at his side.
"Tinion said you awoke from a dream in quite a state, and Elladan is worried
about your quietness."

"He has been quiet for days, no one has commented on that," Elrohir replied
shortly. "Why won't everyone mind their own business? Why won't everyone leave
me alone and stop treating me like I am nothing more than a foolish little
child? I am fine."

"I ... beg your pardon," Dinendal said, looking like he was refraining from
saying much more.

Elrohir sighed. "No, I beg yours. Forgive me for being rude. I am just..."

"Nervous?" Dinendal nodded. "I know." He gave a short laugh. "Well, I do not
know, that was a stupid thing to say. How could I know? But I can see that you
are afraid. You and Elladan feel you have made the right decision, and Lady
Galadriel and Lord Celeborn are behind you, so I cannot doubt what they say. I
hope it is worth it."

"It is worth it." Elrohir dropped a step behind him as the path narrowed as it
turned a sharp corner. "Nothing will break us apart, and I do not care what
anyone..." He collided heavily with Dinendal's back at the guard stopped
suddenly with a cry.

"Valar save us!" he whispered shakily.

"What is wrong?" Elrohir's feet turned to lead and stuck in the snow as he
looked over Dinendal's shoulder to the sight that had suddenly caused the guard
to halt and baulk. "Oh, dear Eru..." It was like something from a nightmare. He
must still be dreaming. This could not be real...

"What is it?" Elladan walked swiftly to his side. "Elrohir?" His eyes stared at
the disaster. "Oh my... What has happened?"

Elrohir took hold of Elladan's arm and leaned heavily upon him as his stomach
heaved.

The snow was red with blood, and black in places. Horses lay dead and
dismembered upon the ground, their riders thrown and bludgeoned. Dark haired
riders, clad in grey and blue... The Imladris guard...

His head span and his knees turned weak and he felt Elladan hold him up as his
body crumpled and he vomited.

What had happened? The guards did not come into the mountains at this time of
year.

Straightening up with streaming eyes, he forced himself to look again. One,
two, three, four... blood everywhere... five, six, seven... Orc bodies amongst
the Elves in greater number, killed with single shots... eight, nine, ten...

Ten Imladris guards. Ten of his people.

He walked slowly into the wreckage, glancing down at the corpses. There was
Bellion, his green band of rank torn from his arm and lying on the snow beside
him, Melbennion, Erynon, Aglargelair, their faces barely recognisable, their
eyes blank, their tunics bloodied.

He could not make out the other five that lay close together; they were face
down in the snow.

"What madness is this?" Elladan whispered, staring in horror as he followed
Elrohir to a horse that lay away from the others, as if it had tried to run
ahead. The horse had been shot by a black arrow and its rider lay a distance
from its body, as if he had tried to run too. An arrow pierced his breast.

Elrohir recognised him in an instant. He was the youngest elf on Glorfindel's
watch. Elrohir had been friends with him.

"Tholinnas..." he whispered tearfully, crouching at the guard's side, reaching
out to touch his cheek. He was startled to still feel a little warmth in the
flesh, and a slight rush of air brushed his fingers. "Tholinnas," he repeated,
leaning closer. "Tholinnas, do you live?"

"My Lord Elrohir?" his eyes fluttered open and tried to focus. "Is it really
you?"

"It is us." Elladan knelt beside him, taking his trembling hand tightly. "What
has happened here?"

"You have returned!" Tholinnas whispered weakly. "Oh, but too late, my Lords.
It is too late."

"What is?" Elrohir glanced at his brother over Tholinnas's body. "What
happened, my friend? Tell me."

"Your mother wanted you back," he said. "She fought greatly with your father
about it, and she was journeying to Caras Galadhon to seek help from Lady
Galadriel. She snuck away in the night; Lord Elrond defied her to go... I tried
to stop her, I wanted to stop her, I said it was not safe, but she was so
adamant..." His face contorted in pain as he cried out. "Please believe me! I
tried to stop her..."

"What are you saying?" Elladan shook him sharply as his eyes started to fall
shut. "Tholinnas! You are saying my mother was taking this path?" His voice
cracked with anguish and fear as he met Elrohir's eyes. "Say it is not so!"

"We were cut down," he said. "I tried to go after them, I tried but.... They
have taken her."

"They?" Elrohir whimpered, wanting to vomit all over again. "They? Who are
they?" He did not need to ask. It was orcs. Orcs had captured his mother.
"Tholinnas?"

"He is dead," Elladan said, slumping to his knees like a puppet whose strings
had suddenly been severed. "Oh, Elrohir..." He turned fearful eyes to his twin.
"What have we done?"

"Lady Celebrían has been taken?" Dinendal asked. Elrohir hadn't realised he had
been behind him.

He stood and stared around the carnage, trembling and speechless. It was like a
dream. It could not be real. But it was real. He had felt it in his dream last
night. He had seen it. Blood, and silver hair... His mother... His mother at
the mercy of those animals, the woman who had given him life, in their hands...
the woman who had given him love, his mother... his mother.... and it was all
their fault....

Feeling anger and fear surge within his heart, he mounted his horse swiftly. He
had never felt such madness. He had not known his heart was capable of such
fury. The orcs would pay dearly for this. He could kill. He would kill. He
would do more than kill.

"Elladan," he said.

"Yes," Elladan agreed, not needing the sentence to be finished as he rose to
his feet and mounted Daevorn.

They were going after them.

"Dinendal, you and Tinion ride back to Caras Galadhon and inform our
grandparents of what has happened," Elrohir ordered, loosening his sword in his
scabbard. "The rest of you, arm yourself and come with us, if you will."

Without waiting for an answer, he urged his mare as swiftly as she was able to
go, following tracks in the snow. Thank goodness it had not snowed more
overnight.

There were many orcs tracks, and scuffs like there had been a struggle, but not
much of a struggle. Had Celebrían been shot? Killed? What? Elrohir did not want
to think about it. He could not think about it. No visions would come to his
mind. He was blind was rage. Nothing had the right to do this to his mother,
not even Illúvatar himself. She was his mother; she was a lady, a princess, the
Silver Queen of Lórien... No one would get away with hurting her.

"Ai, Elrohir!" Elladan suddenly dismounted and picked something up from the
snow. It was a pendant, a green stone on a gold chain. The chain was broken and
a stray stand of blonde hair was caught in the clasp; blonde hair, soaked in
blood. "Vengeance will be great for this," he hissed as he jumped back into his
saddle, stowing the jewel in his pocket. Elrohir's anger was mirrored in his
eyes. "Ride on, my brother. Ride on with haste."

Heedless of the height and the icy ground, Elrohir rode forward like a thing
possessed. He was possessed, with anger, and fear, and guilt. It was all their
fault. Their mother could be dead, poisoned, raped, tortured, and it was all
their fault.

If only they had not left, if only they had returned sooner, if only they had
never loved each other...

Keeping his eyes to the ground he let his horse look ahead as he led her
alongside the orcs' tracks. They had not gone far. Soon they stopped, and he
looked to the cliffs above to see the mouth of a cave. That was where they
were. His mother was in there.

He was not afraid. He, Elrohir, who had been fearful of Erestor's cat as a
child, was not afraid. He had been fearful of the dark, of being alone, of
being unloved, of dying, but no longer. There was no fear in his soul anymore,
no hesitation, no concern. There was only rage; pure rage.

"I am going in," he said resolutely, dismounting and drawing his sword.

"I am with you." Elladan stepped before him and quietly began to pick his way
up the path, keeping close to the rocks to hide himself from any spies.

Elrohir's heart fluttered in his breast, threatening to burst and to stop all
at once. With a boldness that came from a hidden pit of his heart, he rose up
and ran before Elladan, barging into the cave and killing the two fat creatures
at the door before his brain could comprehend what his hands were doing. His
brain was not capable of thought now; it was only capable of instructing his
body to maim.

He hacked at the creatures as they lay upon the floor, and grimaced as their
hands fell off. They had touched his mother. They never would again.

"Elrohir!" Elladan called after him.

And then the orcs were everywhere, coming out of every hole, every shadow.
There must have been about thirty, but there seemed to be hundreds.

Elladan leapt in and beheaded one as it swung at Elrohir, then he got lost
within the scuffle of orcs and Elves.

/'I love you and do not fall without me,'/ Elrohir sent the thought to his
twin, as he slipped quietly through the distraction into a dark corridor.

He wanted to stay. He wanted to kill. He wanted to mutilate. But something was
pulling him away from the battle, something was telling him that this was the
way to go. Something was softly calling his name, luring him down into the
darkness. The passage was pitch black, lit by but a single torch in sconce on
the wall. It flickered, pulling moths into its flame. The air was thick and
fetid, and something crunched beneath his boots. What it was, he did not know,
and he did not want to look down to find out. The battle clattered behind him,
and he was sneaking further away from it, leaving it, leaving Elladan behind.

His hand shook on the hilt of his sword and his breath rattled loudly around
the walls. He had killed... he was a killer... he had bloodied his sword... He
had killed those that had hurt his mother, and it had felt good. It had felt
wonderful. Madness had seized him, and his fear was returning. His heart was
thumping in his ears. His feet were leaden. He was shaking.

There was nothing this way, no sound, no light, so why did his feet pull him
there? His fears lay this way. He followed the passage as though he was walking
through an old dream, somewhere he had been before, but he had forgotten what
was at the end.

Holding back a cry as a bat whirred over his head, he shrunk back against the
slimy wall and noticed a flicker of pale lamplight ahead of him. Urging his
heavy legs onwards, he came to the opening of a small hollow in the rocks,
barely large enough for a grown man to stand in.

He could not dare to look inside. What would be within? His fear? His doom? He
would kill any number of orcs again, but he was terrified to look into that
room.

"You keep still, my pretty," he heard a gruff voice bark from inside the room,
and he crept forward silently. "You are still yet to scream for me."

A big orc leaned over something on the floor.... Somebody... Elrohir shut his
eyes.

"Whatever you take from me, you will not take my pride," said a voice that made
Elrohir feel faint. The voice was weak, hoarse with pain, but strong and
determined. A voice that he knew...

"Valar, by your grace give me courage," he whispered as he raised his sword and
entered the crevice. "Or if this is punishment for my sin, let me be struck
dead now." With blind eyes, he aimed a thrust at the creature's back and yelped
in fright as it fell to the floor at his feet and revealed his nightmare to
him.

This could not be his mother; she was tall, and strong, and beautiful. This
could not be her, huddled against the wall, with a wound in her shoulder and
sweat and blood in her hair. This could not be his radiant mother, bruised and
scratched with blood down her back and blood down her thighs. He sobbed.

"Oh mother!" He fell to his knees beside her and gently rolled her to face him.
"Mother, forgive me!" he wept, pulling her hair back from her battered face.
Even beneath the bruises, the cuts, the shame, she looked so beautiful, more
beautiful than he had remembered. "Mother..."

Her blue eyes blinked open, but they were no longer bright. "Elrohir?" This
time he barely recognised her voice, it was so weighted by pain. "I am
dreaming. I am dead?"

"No," he whispered, bending gently to kiss her. "We have come home."

Her pale lips twisted into something that could have been a smile. "You...you
have come home?" she whispered. "Elrohir...my son..." Tears shone in her eyes
before they fell shut in unconsciousness.

"We have come home," he said through his tears. "And we have come to save
you." Sheathing his sword, and wrapping his cloak around his mother's body, he
lifted her into his arms and began to make his way back down the passage.

He had no clue how he was going to get past the orcs in the cave, but he did
not care. He had a precious burden in his arms, and neither orcs, fire, nor
death would come between him and his mother.

"Elrohir!" Elladan ran towards him, barely taking in the sight of Celebrían. He
had blood on his face, both red and black. "This way! Quickly!" He shoved his
twin down another small tunnel. "Run! There is light at the end. I will cover
you! Go!"

"Elladan..." Celebrían said, struggling weakly in Elrohir's arms. "Elrohir,
don't you dare leave without him."

"Go!" Elladan ordered. "Before they see you! Go!"

Turning from his brother, Elrohir held Celebrían tightly to his body and crept
down the narrow tunnel as fast as he was able to. The space was small, he had
to stoop, and he stumbled through the darkness with tears in his eyes. He could
feel blood on his arms; his wounded mother was within his arms. He wanted to go
back, he wanted to murder every one of the wretched animals that had done this,
he wanted to tie them up and torture them into a slow and painful death, but he
could not. Getting his mother out was more important, though his will still
tried to pull him back.

"Forgive me," he whispered. "Forgive me. Please forgive me." The sound of the
fight echoed along the tunnel, and he quickened his pace as light shone through
a crack in the rock before him. Outside was but feet away, but Elladan was
behind...

"Do not leave him," Celebrían said again, clutching the collar of his tunic.
"We will not leave without him, Elrohir, I forbid it."

"Go!" Elladan ran towards them, limping and staggering as though in pain.

"Elladan, are you hurt?" Elrohir stared at him and saw blood on his leggings.

"I fell and grazed my knee! Go on, damn you, go!" Elladan cried. "Get out while
we still can. They are behind me!"

Elrohir squeezed awkwardly through the fissure and hastened down the
mountainside to where their horses stood. It was daylight. The sun had risen.
The orcs would not follow them but they could still shoot at them. He could
hear them at the tunnel mouth already. They moved so fast...

Leaving his brother to shoot at them with his bow and arrow, he carried his
mother down to the horses.

"Elladan!" he called as he mounted and put Celebrían gently before him.
"Come!" He could hardly bear to look at her in the daylight, but his eyes drew
themselves to her anyway. It was worse than he had imagined. The wound in her
shoulder was black with poison and her arm hung limp and cold. She looked dead.
There were scratches, cuts, bites, all over her. Her dress had been torn by
many hands. They had ruined her, but her dignity still shone faintly through
her pain.

"Elrohir, ride on!" Still shooting, Elladan scrambled down the bank, tripping
on a stone and yelling in pain as an arrow hit the top of his left arm.

"Daevorn, follow!" Elrohir called to his brother's horse, not stopping as
Elladan mounted her, pulling the arrow from his arm.

"I am all right!" Elladan called to him. "Just ride and do not stop."

Leaving the Lórien escort behind, and neither knowing nor caring about their
fate, Elrohir rode hard and fast across the snowy ground, down the mountainside
without a care for the ice, rocks or snow. How he made it without making his
horse fall, he had no clue, but soon they came to lower ground, where Elladan
halted Daevorn and stumbled awkwardly from her back, pale in the face.

Elrohir dismounted, gently lifting a cold and shaking Celebrían from his
saddle. His mother was dying, he could feel it. Her breath was ragged, her
flesh was cold, not even her blood was warm anymore. She was drifting away from
him and he hoped his heart could hold her to him if nothing else could.

"You are hurt." He stared at the blood on Elladan's sleeve, transfixed by it.
Anything not to look at what lay in his arms

"I am all right," Elladan said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and
tightly binding his arm. "See to Mother." He spread his cloak upon the ground
to protect Celebrían from the snow as Elrohir laid her down. "Oh, Eru, what has
she done to deserve this?" he whispered as tears coursed his cheeks. "Why
should she be punished for our sins?" He knelt beside her, taking her hand in
his own. "Mother? Mother do you hear me? It is your son. It is Elladan. Mother?
Oh please open your eyes. Forgive me. Forgive both of us. We never meant this
to happen. Mother..."

Elrohir took some water and cloths from his pack. He felt numb. His mother was
half dead, his brother was heartbroken, and he barely realised. His soul had
been ripped from his body. He could not feel anything.

"They have poisoned her," Elladan said shakily as Elrohir came back to his
side. "They shot her in the shoulder, and it is poisoned. It is in her blood,
there is nothing we can do to stop it now."

"We can make her comfortable," Elrohir whispered, crouching and wetting a cloth
to dab the dried blood from his mother's face. She had always been fair, but
now she was deathly pale. Her skin was an ashen grey, her lips held a tint of
blue, and her eyes were closed. She would not look at him, though he knew she
was conscious. Albeit, barely.

He washed the blood from her face, and from her right ear to see that a small
chunk had been bitten, just below the point. A claw mark ran down her neck,
across her chest, over the breast that had fed him.

"If only that was all," Elladan whispered, staring at the blood that soaked the
skirt of her dress.

"No!" Celebrían's eyes flew open as Elladan lifted the torn edge of her dress.
"No! Do not!"

Elrohir felt his heart break into a thousand pieces. "We must check your
wounds..." How would he feel if he were in her place? Afraid. Ashamed. No son
should see his mother in such a way. She was meant to care for them, to look
after them, to protect them. She was not meant to be lying in the snow, barely
alive, wounded and raped while they attended to her wounds. It was so wrong.
"We know what they did," he whispered.

Celebrían turned her eyes from him. "Then spare me the shame, Elrohir," she
whispered, grimacing as tears clung to her eyelashes. "Or take your sword and
slay me now. I would not have your father see this. I would not have you see
this. I would not have myself endure what will follow this day. Leave me here."

"We will not. You will be all right." Elladan stood up quickly. "We are taking
you home, and that is all there is to it. Elrohir, we must keep riding." He
clambered into his saddle, his injured arm hindering him more than he would
make out.

Elrohir nodded, dabbing some more blood from Celebrían's face before he lifted
her back onto his horse. There was so much blood; so much he could not heal.

"It will be all right, Mother," he said. "We will take you home. Father will
take care of you."

Her eyes met his, full of pain and degradation. "Had you a selfless ounce of
pity, my son, you would have let the creatures kill me." She fell limp in his
arms as unconsciousness took her again.

Elladan looked at Elrohir with tears glowing in his eyes. "She doesn't mean
it."

Elrohir stared back at him, then back to the frail woman in his arms. "Yes, she
does."

She wanted to die, and she might yet. Imladris was still days ahead. How long
could an Elf bear such pain?