Title: A Bond of Brothers 
Chapter Nine (a) - A Change of Circumstance
Author: Oakenshield (Oakenshield@lonelymountain.zzn.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Elladan/Elrohir
Warnings/Spoilers: Incest
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: The twins are forced out into the Wild, and Celebrian and Arwen suffer
a vision of Elrohir dying. 

-------

Chapter Nine(a) - A Change of Circumstance


Imladris
Year 2508 of the 3rd Age


Arwen wept, curled up on a bed that was not her own, burying her face into the
pillow, trying to find a faint scent of the one who had occupied it a decade
before. Sneaking into Elrohir's old bedroom was small comfort after the dream
she had suffered. As a child, she had often crawled into this bed - it had
seemed awfully big then - and Elrohir had cuddled her all night, soothing away
her fears. She could not hope for as much tonight. A dusty room was the closest
thing she would get to him. She missed him. She missed them both so much.

The past ten years had been awful. Within a season it was as if the twins had
never existed to their father, and now Elrond would not speak their names. He
had removed every memory of them from the house, apart from their chambers;
Celebrían had over-ruled him on that. But she no longer cleaned the rooms as
she once did. The shutters were no longer opened. The linen was no longer
changed. The Lady of Imladris had given up hope of them returning.

Arwen hated seeing her father in such angry denial. She hated seeing her mother
in such sorrowful defeat. And it hurt her to think that she had helped Elladan
and Elrohir prepare to run away. She was partly the cause of all the anguish.
It hurt even more to realise that she did not regret it. Leaving Imladris had
been the only way for them to be together, and she did not believe that two
people in love should be made to part. She only wished there could have been
another way.

No ill had come to her from their departure, but she seemed to be the only one
who hadn't found trouble for it. Her grandfather and grandmother had argued all
night, something about Haldir but she had not been able to hear what. Celeborn
had wept for long hours before Galadriel had forgiven him. Arwen wondered what
there was to forgive? What had he done? Meanwhile, Melethoniel had been taken
into the West by her father, and Haldir and Rúmil had surely suffered some
punishment on their return home to Lórien. Her parents had not spoken to each
other for weeks. For the same amount of time, her mother had been cool with
her. Arwen had expected great wrath to rain down on her from her father, but
none had come. He had only looked at her sadly, and since he had been more
caring of her than ever. His actions confused her as much as they upset her.
Had he really forgotten his sons? Did he really wish to never see them again?

Her family and her home appeared to be back to normal to any outsider, but she
knew it was not. It would never be normal until the twins came home. If they
came home.

Rising from the bed, she crossed to the balcony doors and flung them open. The
hinges were stiff and they creaked as they moved after years of being still.
She stood in the icy air, looking out over the mountains. Snow was falling....
Snow was falling upon dead winter leaves. The night was dark. Was Elrohir lying
upon the ground somewhere, wrapped in a fur cloak, looking cold and pale, as
she had dreamed? She did not have to close her eyes to remind herself of the
vision. She did not think she would ever be free of it.

"Arwen?"

She spun around quickly as she realised another had entered the room.
"Mother!" She wiped her tears. "What are you doing here?" She knew her mother
sometimes came to the twins' rooms at night, but she was not meant to know.

"What are you doing here?" Celebrían repeated the question, shrugging free of
her night robe to drape it around Arwen's shoulders. "Come from that door, my
daughter, it is freezing outside."

Arwen allowed herself to be pulled back into the room as the doors were slammed
shut once more. "I could not sleep," she said softly. "I had a dream..." Tears
flooded her eyes. "Oh, Mother..." She cast herself into Celebrían's arms as the
memory of the nightmare haunted her. "Elrohir is dying! He is dying and he is
alone in the cold! Mother believe me!" She sobbed as Celebrían suddenly shrunk
away. "I saw it so clearly! Please do not back away from me."

"I am sorry." Celebrían stepped forward and held her tightly. "You saw Elrohir?
Dying?"

"Yes," Arwen nodded. "Mother, why do you tremble so?"

"I awoke tonight also," Celebrían whispered and Arwen could feel that she was
crying. "I awoke for I felt a light was leaving my baby's body. I saw it too,
Arwen. I saw Elrohir dying."

"Oh, dear Eru!" Arwen cried. "We must tell Father!" Surely he would do
something now...

"I did tell him," Celebrían whispered so quietly Arwen hardly heard her. "He
said... he said, to him they were already dead."

Arwen's breath stuck in her chest. "How could he say such a thing?!" she cried.
"He will help us, I know he will if..." She looked at Celebrían's solemn face.
"No, he won't, will he?" she realised. How could the father she loved so dearly
do such a thing? "We are alone."

"We are not alone." Celebrían took Arwen's hands. Hope was in her eyes. Hope
that Arwen had not seen for a long time. "I sent a plea on the wind tonight. We
must hope that it is heard."

******

Lothlórien


"It has been heard, my darling," Galadriel whispered as she stepped back from
the mirror. She wished that she could speak comfort to Celebrían, but the road
to Imladris was long and the winter was hard. Time was short, and she would be
able to help better from afar than she would from Celebrían's side.

"Our daughter frets?" Celeborn asked her, walking to stand at her side.

"Yes, she does," Galadriel replied. "Arwen frets also. And Elrohir is fading. I
have seen where he will die." 

None of her foresight, none of her tactics could take away the fear of what she
had seen and she gratefully stepped into Celeborn's arms as they closed around
her. He often said that she was too neutral. She had been waiting, biding her
time for the right moment. And now she feared that she was too late. 

Celeborn had wanted to send a guard out to look for the twins after they had
run away; she hoped they would come back of their own accord, but they had not.
She had looked in the mirror nearly every night, but they had closed their
hearts to her eyes. Now Elrohir's soul was calling out in pain, calling out for
help. Oh, if he had called to her sooner...

"The time has come, hasn't it?" Celeborn said. It was not a question this time.
He knew. He would not stall any longer, not for anything.

"Yes," Galadriel nodded. "The time has come for us to intervene."

Knowledge of something desperately secret gnawed at her conscience, but it was
not time for that. Not yet. She still had to hold back. She did not know when
would be the right time to reveal it, or if there would be a right time, but it
was not yet. The only thing that mattered now was finding the twins with all
haste.

******

Aldhelm's Farm


Elrohir knelt in the snow and placed a small posy of winter flowers upon a
freshly dug grave. "It is not fair," he said quietly as a tear rolled down his
cheek and splashed to the earth, turning to a silver drop of ice. "It is not
fair, Elladan."

"I know." Elladan stepped behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come
inside now, love, it is getting dark."

Elrohir shrugged his hand off. "Just as things were getting good for us," he
whispered. "It is really not fair!"

Things had gone from bad to worse over the past month. First his beloved
Giliath had died giving birth to a foal that had not lived a day, Fraomar had
traded Daevorn to a neighbour in exchange for a younger mare, and a harsh
winter had set in, freezing everything in sight. Then just yesterday, Aldhelm
had passed from this world. 

Elrohir had not realised how sickly human folk were, or how quickly their
diseases spread. A feverish flu had swept through all the nearby farms and six
people in the area had died from it. Some had been old, some had been children,
but all had been weak. The fever struck the weak ones the hardest and old
Aldhelm had fallen instantly. Fraomar, young and strong, had shaken the disease
but Edlyn seemed to be ailing quickly, her heart weakened by the death of her
husband.

It was awful. If Edlyn died, that meant they would be left to work for Fraomar,
and he had never really lost his hostility towards them. He still treated them
with slight contempt and looked at them with a suspicious eye.

"It is not fair!" Elrohir gripped a large fist of snow, and winced as the
frozen slush ran between his cold fingers. "Damn it, Elladan! Why did this have
to happen?!" He let his twin pull him to his feet as sobs crippled his body. He
knew that Elladan could give him no answers, but he had to voice his pain. The
Valar did not listen anymore.

"Shh." Elladan held him close and stroked his hair. "We will be all right." His
words sounded horribly false, as if he was telling himself the lie as much as
he was telling Elrohir. He knew it was over.

"No we won't be all right." Elrohir buried his face into his brother's broad
shoulder. "Not this time. We are done for this time, I know we are! No one else
around here will take us in if Edlyn dies!" He shivered and pressed his body
tightly to Elladan's. "I am scared, Elladan! I am afraid of what will happen to
us now!" It seemed that punishment had caught up with them at last. They could
out-run it no longer.

"I will always take care of you." Elladan pulled back to lift Elrohir's face to
his sight. "I will never let harm come to you. I love you too much." He placed
a kiss to Elrohir's lips.

"Don't." Elrohir pulled his head away but a breath's span. "We should not do
that out here. It is too risky." Even as he rejected the affection he moved
closer to claim another kiss. He had to feel something that made him feel safe.
Something that was true. Wrapping his arms tightly around Elladan's back he
kissed him deeply, as though his life depended on it.

His life did depend on it. He needed the kiss to remind him what he was doing
out in the Wild, working for humans. He needed it to remind him why he had left
his comfortable home and the family he loved so much. Ten years had passed
quickly but every day he thought of Imladris. Every day he remembered the tears
in his mother's eyes when they had left. He missed her so much.

More tears welled up in his throat and rather than letting them out he poured
them into the kiss, bringing his hand up to the back of Elladan's head to pull
him closer still.

He could not stop thinking about Imladris... home... It called to his dreams
and haunted all his thoughts. He missed it. He wanted to go back, but there was
no way they could. Not now. Not ever. They had chosen this life and they had to
live it. And they would probably die for it. He wished, not for the first time,
that things could be easier, that he could be with Elladan and be safe at home
but he had grown up enough to know that he could not have it both ways.

He choked on another sob as he accepted Elladan's tongue into his mouth. He
felt like that a lot lately, like he was choking. Choking on pain and regret
and secrets. He was suffocating for wind and water, for Elven speech and song
and laughter. He had been with humans for a decade and he felt that he was
getting very close to losing every bit of himself that was Elven. He had sung
the odd song when occasion had called; a request from Edlyn on her birthday
some years ago, a lament when Aldhelm had been put to the earth today. He and
Elladan rarely spoke in the Elven tongue these days, only in private moments to
each other when whispering would not suffice, or words of bonding as they made
love in stealthy silence, keeping one eye turned to a securely locked door.

Everything Elven about them was dying, and Elrohir lamented it as much as he
did the loss of Aldhelm. He wondered if Elladan felt it too. The light of the
Eldar was fading within their souls. He had seen it in Elladan's eyes but not
as strongly as he had felt it in his own heart. He had tried to ignore it, but
fearful moments like this were seizing him more and more often. Was he turning
mortal, or was he dying? Either way he was doomed.

"Estelio enni, Elrohir," Elladan whispered against his lips. "Melin le. Uivelin
le. Melithon le ainur. Avaro naeth."

Elrohir gave a small sob. As always, Elladan knew the very thing to say, and
how to say it. Surely being away from home was worth it when he shared a bond
like that with his twin? Pressing close, he made to kiss Elladan again but
something behind him drew his attention and he pulled away quickly.

"I knew it," he heard Fraomar's voice, and it was thick with disgust. "The
night you first came here, I knew there was something amiss with the two of
you. I now see why you were exiled, why you did not want to marry. I will not
stand for it here. I am master of this house now, and I will not have this
going on under my roof."

Elrohir straightened up and turned to look at the man. How long had he been
standing there watching? "Fraomar..." He had no words to say. How could he get
him to understand?

"In an incestuous kiss!" Fraomar fumed with tears in his eyes. "Upon my
father's grave! With your tongues down each other's throats on the very damp
soil that was dug today!" He raised the spade in his hand and swung it at
Elladan. "I should kill you! You are disgusting! Did you really run away, or
did your father disown you?"

"You strike with force but not with intelligence, mortal." Elladan caught the
spade as it propelled towards his head and twisted it from Fraomar's hands.
"Your kind is like that in all manners of life."

Elrohir suddenly found himself caught by the arm and pulled into Fraomar's
grasp as a dagger pressed to his throat.

"We mortals sometimes strike faster than you think. Leave now. This instant or
I will kill him. I will kill you both. Get off my farm."

Elrohir quivered in the man's hard grip and stared fearfully at Elladan. He
could feel Fraomar's large hand shaking with fury upon his arm. The blade
shuddered against his neck and he hardly dared to breathe lest it slice him.

"You make me sick," Froamar said in a low voice and Elrohir could feel his
breath against his ear. "Is this normal practise amongst Elves? I don't think
so. You are depraved. In this country you would be put to death for such a
thing. I should do it myself now. I should spill your blood upon the grave you
just desecrated."

"Let him go," Elladan said with spade still in his hand. "Let my brother go,
right now."

"Or you will do what?" Fraomar held Elrohir tighter. "You can't do anything."

Elrohir looked desperately at his twin. Elladan could do nothing. This was
something he had to get out of himself. He remembered what Glorfindel had
taught him. If caught in such a way by an enemy...

Leaning his head away from the dagger he raised his foot and kicked his heel
down Fraomar's shin then brought his elbow back into the man's ribs. As Fraomar
released him and buckled in pain, he dropped the dagger and Elladan leapt to
pick it up.

"No one calls us depraved!" he said with wrath in his eyes. "I will never be
called that again. Our love is true." While Fraomar was doubled over, Elladan
brought his knee up to make sharp contact with his face. "I will not be judged
by you."

Fraomar rose on his hands and knees. "Help!" he called out. "Help! I am to be
murdered!" He glared at Elladan through narrowed eyes. "No one will trust you
around here," he whispered. "You will not get away."

With his hand trembling upon the dagger, Elladan kicked Fraomar in the chest
and knocked him to the floor.

"Elladan!" Elrohir tugged his arm. The young man might be judgemental and
obnoxious but he did not deserve to be beaten to a pulp. Elrohir could not help
but feel sorry for Fraomar. He had not trusted them from the start, but had
been over-ruled by his parents. Now he had been proven right. "Elladan! That is
enough!"

"HELP!" Fraomar cried, as the sound of a horse approached. "Help me someone!
These Elves mean to kill me!"

"Elladan, for pity's sake!" Elrohir grabbed him firmly and pulled him from his
attack. "Stop it! What has come over you? Stop it!"

"Fraomar?" A middle-aged man upon a black horse rode up from the neighbouring
field with a short sword in his hand. "What is the matter?" His eyes fell on
Elladan holding the dagger and he dismounted to aid Fraomar. "I told your
father not to take in Elves. They are dangerous." He looked warily at the twins
as he helped Fraomar to stand.

"Daevorn?" Elladan whispered as he stared at the horse and the horse stared
back at him. It was indeed Daevorn. "Daevorn, come here," Elladan whispered
softly enough for only the horse and Elrohir to hear. "Run!" he ordered firmly
of Daevorn and she neighed in response with her ears back as she darted away,
only slowing a beat for Elladan to leap onto her back.

"Elladan!" Elrohir cried as his brother caught him and pulled him onto the
horse's back. "What are you doing?!"

Even as they galloped away, vaulting the perimeter fence as Froamar and his
neighbour chased them on foot, Elladan had to have the last word.

"Foolish mortals!" he called back. "Never come between an Elven horse and her
master!"

"Ai!" Elrohir rested his forehead against Elladan's shoulder and clung tightly
to his waist, for comfort rather than support. "Oh, Elladan what now?" he
cried. "All our belongings..."

"We must leave them," Elladan said. "If we wish to leave with our lives, that
is."

"Where are we going?" Elrohir asked, burying his face into Elladan's fur cloak
as falling snow whipped into his eyes.

"The only place we can go!" Elladan called back over the whistling wind. "A
place I hoped we would never have to go!"

******

"This..." Elrohir shivered as he stared into a gloomy forest. "This... this is
Mirkwood?" He wrapped his arms around his chest as his teeth chattered, though
he was not sure if he shivered with cold or fear or fatigue, or a combination
of all three.

"This is Mirkwood," Elladan replied as brightly as if Elrohir had enquired
about the weather. "Sit down, love. I will build a fire."

Elrohir dropped heavily to the floor and drew his knees up to his chest. "What
are we going to do?" he sighed and put his head into his hands. 

Anguish was settling heavily into his heart. They had been running for four
days. They had no food, no weapons, the only water they had consumed had come
from the snow. And they were still in the middle of nowhere, and the snow was
still falling heavily. His stomach growled and twisted with hunger. He had
never felt so awful in his life. They were no better off than when they had
been Imladris. In fact, things were worse. They had lost everything. Even hope.

"We will have to stay here until the worst of the snow passes, and then move
on. Again," Elladan said. "We should never have looked for welcome and
understanding in Men."

"And move on to where?" Elrohir's eyebrows raised in question. "Should we go
and snivel at Thranduil's heels? I know! We will seek out that bastard child of
his. Legolas, is that his name? The one you said had a mouth of molten velvet.
I'm sure he'd provide us with a roof over our heads for the right price!"

"That is an unnecessary insult to me," Elladan replied shortly, dropping wood
onto the small pile that was building. "You call me a whore?" his back
stiffened. "Do you? Come! Have the courage to say what you would name me in
your dark thoughts!"

Elrohir stared ahead and pursed his lips. He did not know why he had said that.
Though the thought did come to him. Elladan had met the king's illegitimate son
at the borders of Mirkwood on his travels one night centuries ago. Had this
been the very spot?

"I would dwell in the dirtiest orc hovel before I would return to Imladris,"
Elladan said quietly, as he lit the fire.

"I know you would," Elrohir whispered, tears stinging in his eyes. He shivered
again and put his forehead on his knees. His head was pounding like he had been
struck across it, yet he was sure he hadn't. He felt tired and sick, and longed
for nothing more than a hot meal, a hot bath and a comfortable bed. He did not
hope to receive any for a long time, if at all. They were destined to live as
tramps. Or perhaps they would die in the forest. No food would be found around
here. They were miles from civilisation and Thranduil was certainly not a
gracious host to unexpected visitors.

Elladan sat at his side. "Here, have my cloak." He shrugged the thick fur cloak
off and wrapped it around Elrohir's shoulders. It was the only luxury that had
come with them, as Elladan had been wearing it at the time. "Are you all
right?"

Elrohir nodded, tugging the fur cloak closer around his body. "I am fine," he
replied, though in truth he felt as if every drop of energy had been stolen
from his body. "I am just a bit cold and tired. I am all right, really I am."
He tried to keep the tears from his voice. Elladan was trying so hard, he had
to try hard too. He had to be strong.

"Get some sleep," Elladan said. "We can go nowhere tonight; we may as well stay
here and rest." He leaned his back against a tree trunk. "Put your head in my
lap. I will watch over you, I am not tired yet."

"Thank you." Elrohir lay down on his side with his head on Elladan's thigh and
curled up into the cloak. It wasn't very many moments before his eyes fell
shut.

A strange dream came to him while he was deeply asleep. He dreamed he was a
child again, in Imladris. He stumbled through the snow dressed in nothing but a
nightshirt and he shivered and wept.

He walked for what felt like miles and his feet were bleeding and bruised but
still he walked. He followed footprints in the snow and came at last to a large
glade. He stepped into the circle and cast himself down in the green grass to
cry, exhausted. Darkness closed in around him, blocking out the sun and he
cried out for help. The snow swept in, clutching him in an icy grasp.

"Elrohir." A voice called to him through the gloom. "Elrohir, my child..."

"Grandma," he realised, sitting up and looking around. But he could not see
her. "Where are you?"

She appeared from nowhere and her arms lifted him. "I will keep you strong,
Elrohir, and I will keep you safe but I cannot keep you like this forever."

"Do not let me go," he clung tightly to her. "I am cold. I am afraid."

"I can hold you safe tonight," she said, "and the night after, but then you
must come to me. You must come and find me if I am to hold you safe forever."

"Where is Elladan?" he asked. "I have lost him."

"Elladan has lost himself," Galadriel said. "You must lead him back to me,
Elrohir. He was lost his way." She put him down and melted into the trees.
"Come to me..."

He woke later, he guessed to be some hours later, to find that Elladan had
moved and was lying spooned against his back. It took him a while to realise
why he had woken but as he came to his senses he realised he was shaking. No,
not shaking, he was shivering. He clasped the cloak tighter around himself and
snuggled back into Elladan's arms. Even the warmth of his brother's body did
nothing to quell the coldness in his bones.

"Elrohir?" Elladan spoke his name. "What is wrong?" He lifted himself on his
elbow and peered at Elrohir in the darkness. "You look flushed." Elladan placed
a hand against his brow. "You are burning!" he cried.

"No," Elrohir shook his head, swallowing hard and cringing as a freezing ache
spread through his bones. "No, I am cold," he whispered. "I am frozen,
Elladan." He shook again, but this time with fear and not cold. Aldhelm had
started like this; cold and tired, then a headache had come, then aching in his
body, then the fever. Then death. But he could not have caught the disease! He
was an Elf! Elves did not get ill. Unless...

"Cold?!" Elladan pulled his brother into his arms and placed a hand against his
thudding heartbeat. "Elrohir, you are not well!" he cried, catching his hand.
"What is it? You are shaking."

Closing his eyes, Elrohir shifted closer. "Every fibre in my body feels like it
is on fire," he gasped. "Yet I am so cold." A severe shiver rattled his frame.
"Elladan I feel dreadful!"

"You have caught that illness that was sweeping through the Men-folk," Elladan
realised. "But how? How have you caught this? It is not possible!" He cupped
Elrohir's jaw in his palm and turned his face towards him. "Elrohir?"

Elrohir closed his eyes, knowing what Elladan would see there. He would see a
dimmed light, a stormy sky rather than silver grey. But it was hopeless to keep
it from him. He opened his eyes and looked tearfully at his brother.

"Oh no..." Elladan breathed softly, touching his cheek.

"Can you not feel it too?" Elrohir gave a weak smile of defeat. It was over. It
was really over this time. "Father has disowned us. In his heart, and in ours,
we are no longer the children of Elrond Peredhel. And in our hearts we had
already chosen our path. Our choice is hastened now. It has begun. It began the
night we left Imladris. Yet I have felt in the past weeks... it has overtaken
me like a plague, Elladan. I feel cold to the bone, I cannot see as I once did,
I cannot hear the whispers of the trees, I am even losing the ability to see
your mind. It is taking me, brother. There is darkness at the corners of my
sight and it is sweeping in." His eyes fell shut as his chest heaved with a
gasping sob. "Hold me, Elladan, please!" He clutched his brother's hand,
finally revealing the fear he was under. "I am sorry I called you a whore. You
are not. You are my brother and my love. You are my heart. I was only angry
that someone else had got their hands upon you when you are made only for me.
Forgive me my anger."

"Shh, it is all right." Elladan held him close in trembling arms. "Oh, Elrohir,
my darling, we must get help for you. Get up, my sweetness. Come, let me help
you." He took Elrohir's arm and helped him to his feet. "Dear Elrohir, why did
you not tell me you were feeling unwell? I would have chosen a different path.
I could have got you help sooner. Ai, I should have noticed you were not well.
Forgive me."

"Where are we going?" Elrohir said, leaning on Elladan's arm as his legs
buckled. His strength was gone. He could not even stand alone.

"Into the forest." Elladan mounted Daevorn and put Elrohir before him. "We are
going to look for Elves, my love."

"Wood Elves?" Elrohir leaned heavily back against Elladan's chest and closed
his eyes. "Thranduil's people... they will not welcome us Elladan, especially
if word has spread from Imladris."

"Be quiet," Elladan said, kissing his ear gently. "Word will not have spread;
Lord Elrond will not have wanted it spread. And Thranduil may be a tyrant but I
am sure he would not turn away a sick Elf. I will risk it. I must risk it. I
will not lose you."

They rode through the night, picking their way through the dark trees. The moon
barely shone through the thick canopy and did not serve well to light their
way. Elrohir felt oppressed in the evil-feeling wood and it did not help the
tightness in his chest. As the night plodded on he felt his eyes getting
heavier, and the shivers getting greater. More than once, Elladan had to
tighten a strong arm around him to stop him falling from the horse.

Morning rose, as far as Elrohir could tell in the gloom, but it did nothing to
lighten him. He felt colder than he had the night before and he could not stop
shaking. Elladan spoke quietly to him but he could not comprehend his twin's
words. Darkness was pulling him in, luring him to close his eyes, to sleep. He
wanted to sleep. He wanted to dream, and be safe in his grandmother's arms
again. She would hold him safe if he dreamed. He wanted to sleep forever, to
escape the nightmare he was living.

"Elrohir," Elladan spoke anxiously at his ear. "Stay with me, my love. Do
not...."

His words faded into the whirring of Elrohir's head and Elrohir could only
weakly murmur in reply. He felt sick to his stomach with the cold that gripped
his body. It was like fists of iron crushing his bones, like fingers of frozen
fire tearing through his muscles. He felt like he was breathing in fog. His
heart pounded in his ears like a death toll. He could not escape it. Justice
had caught him at last and after it had finished with him it would catch
Elladan. It was a death toll. It was ringing out his sentence. His sentence for
his sin. Death. Though perhaps it would not come for Elladan. Perhaps it had
come for him alone. Perhaps it meant to part them, to keep them from their
incest in this life and the next. He sobbed. He could not live without Elladan.
He could not die without him. But he was going to anyway.

"Elrohir!" Elladan said anxiously.

"Elladan..." Elrohir tried to speak as his head span and everything turned
black. "Do not let me go..." He was not sure if the words even came out, but he
did not hear a reply as he slid from Daevorn's back. He did not feel himself
hit the ground, falling into a bed of dead winter leaves. 




------

Translation: "Estelio enni, Elrohir. Melin le. Uivelin le. Melithon le ainur.
Avaro naeth." ~ "Trust me, Elrohir. I love you. I will always love you. I will
love you forever. Do not worry".