Title: A Bond of Brothers 
Chapter Nine (b) - Torn in Two
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: Elrohir gets a taste of mortality, and Celebrian goes against Elrond's
wishes and leaves to find the twins.

------

Chapter Nine(b) - Torn In Two


Elladan leapt from Daevorn's back and crouched beside his brother. "Elrohir?
Elrohir love, answer me!" He shook him by the shoulder but felt no movement.
"Oh, Elrohir, do not do this to me!" He rolled him gently onto his back. "You
cannot be dead! No, I will not let you be dead! Not like this! Not without
me!" His tears splashed onto Elrohir's wax-pale face. "Elrohir! Speak to me
please!" He wept and wailed like a child, but he did not care. There was no one
to hear him. What he would give that there was.

Elrohir whimpered softly and tried to raise his head. "Elladan..." he whispered
in a rasping voice as he blinked his eyes open. "Elladan..."

"Shh, I am here." Elladan took his trembling hand as relief flooded his heart.
He was alive! "It is going to be all right, love. I will not let you fade. You
are not going to leave me." He pinched his twin's arm sharply as his eyes
started to fall shut. "Elrohir, no!"

"I need... I need to sleep...Let me sleep." Elrohir gazed up at him and Elladan
was sickened to see a pale, drawn face. This was not his brother. That was not
the face he shared. This was not his love. This was the face of death. This was
the face of an Elf who had given up the fight, given up hope.

"No, you cannot sleep yet," Elladan said, trying to keep the nervous tremble
from his voice. "Come Elrohir, we must keep riding." He lifted Elrohir into his
arms. They had to find help, or Elrohir would surely die.

"I can't," Elrohir whispered weakly. Coughing harshly, he settled against his
brother's chest with a small whimper. "Take care of me Elladan," he whispered
as a pearly tear slid from the corner of his eye. "I am afraid."

"I will always take care of you." Elladan kissed his brow, startled to feel the
intensity of the fire in the skin against his lips. "Elrohir be strong,
please."

He looked around helplessly. The Elven realm in Mirkwood was a long ride away
and he could not risk taking his ailing brother through a dark forest full of
giant spiders and enchanted streams. They had nowhere to turn to. They had
nowhere to go, except where they were.

At least beneath these heavy boughs they had shelter from the snow. Laying
Elrohir gently down on the ground, Elladan wrapped the cloak around him and
looked around for dead wood to build a fire but it was all damp. He would be
fighting for hours trying to get it to light. He felt warm enough, his body
heat would have to be enough to for himself and Elrohir.

He felt a heavy nudge to his shoulder and a snort by his ear and he turned to
see Daevorn looking at him with confused dark eyes. She nuzzled his cheek and
walked carefully to where Elrohir was lying and lay down beside him.

Elrohir shuffled back into the warmth of the horse's side. "Daevorn..." 

"Thank you Daevorn." Elladan patted her back as curled up at the other side of
Elrohir. "Cuddle up to me, my star rider." He pulled Elrohir into his arms and
held him close. "Daevorn and I will keep you warm."

It was only a few minutes before Elrohir's breath deepened and his head grew
heavy against Elladan's shoulder. Elladan held him tightly, combing the tangles
from his dark hair with his fingers. Elrohir was fading fast, he could feel it
in the deepest recesses of his soul. He should have noticed the signs earlier,
he should have questioned further when Elrohir had grown withdrawn, he should
have commented when he had ceased to eat well and his body had started to grow
frail.

Why had he not noticed? How could he have failed to notice? He had been so
caught up in himself, in building their new life, that he had ignored the signs
of his brother's sorrow. Elrohir had kept it from him well, but it was no
excuse. As a twin, as a lover, he should have known. Now Elrohir was ill, and
it was too late to save him.

"Mother...." Elrohir murmured softly in his sleep and he clung tightly to his
brother's collar, twisting in his arms to snuggle closer.

Elladan swallowed down tears of guilt. Elrohir had never wanted to leave home.
He had made him, through guilt and anger and words of an oath that had already
been broken by another's doing. He had dragged his fragile twin from the arms
of the mother who loved him so dearly, not caring about Elrohir's feelings,
only caring about his own anger at his parents' betrayal. Even now his blood
boiled at the thought of the deceit that had been laid down, but somewhere in
back of his mind he wondered if Celebrían ever looked from her balcony to their
coming.

"Mother!" Elrohir cried with more conviction and Elladan clutched him close
pressing a kiss to his hair.

What child did not cry for their mother when they were unwell and afraid? For
the first time in a decade, Elladan wished he had the guidance of an elder.
Sickness had never come to them before. His father would know what to do to
heal Elrohir, though if they were at home this situation would never have
arisen. 

It was strange that he should still think of Imladris as 'home', even after all
this time. He closed his eyes to remember the icy water of the Bruinen, the
smell of pine on the cold morning mist, the fountains and the gardens, the
library where he had spent so many days, the Hall of Fire where he had spent so
many evenings listening to travellers tales. In a way, he did miss it all. He
missed his own kind. Men were coarse and rude, and knew little of tales of old,
and could not sing.

He did not want to return for anything, but if staying in the Wild meant
Elrohir would fade...

No! He would not return. They could not. It was not an option. And his pride
would never allow him to. If they did not make it, then they would both die. He
would rather die than go crawling back to Lord Elrond for help.

"Elladan..." he heard a murmur but Elrohir's eyes were still closed tightly in
sleep. "I will never leave you..."

/'Unless we are separated by death,'/ Elladan thought with a tearful shiver.
"You will not leave me, my love. I will not let you." So long as he was with
Elrohir, in this life or the next, that was all that mattered. If Elrohir died
this night, he only hoped his grief would speed him after his twin.

"Never to be spoken of again...confused... so scared... but I love you, and
more than I should. I'm sorry... so sorry..."

"Shh." Elladan rubbed his brother's back to soothe him as images of the past
washed through his dreams. He wished he could comfort him. He wished he could
join Elrohir in his bleak dreams to hold him safe there. Elrohir should not
face such fear alone.

"Mother... oh Mother! Do not leave us like this!" Tears poured from Elrohir's
eyes even though they were closed in sleep. "The white tree will rise from the
shadow, and the Evenstar will fall!"

Frowning at the strange words, Elladan cradled Elrohir in his arms as his body
trembled with shivers and ragged sobs escaped his lips. There was nothing else
he could do, but wait. It would surely not be long now. Elrohir was shaking
worse than ever, and unsteady gasps were being pulled from his pale lips. Other
than that, he was utterly silent and still. It would not be long now...

"Do not let me go..." Elrohir whispered, groping weakly for Elladan's hand.

"Oh Elrohir, do not do this to me!" Elladan wept with sorrow. It could not end
like this. "You swore you would not leave me!" He placed his hand on the
burning brow to find the fire in Elrohir's body had risen impossibly higher.
"Elrohir, you may be turning mortal, we both may be, but we are Elven! You can
fight this illness, I know you can! If a drip of a man like Fraomar can, I know
that you can. Please, fight it Elrohir. I know you are weary and sorrowful, but
I love you. Do not die." He hugged his brother closer. This was his heart, this
was his life, and it was fading in his grasp. All his hope, all his dreams, all
his desires, it was all slipping away. He could not let it happen. "Oh, Mandos
have mercy!" he prayed. "Send him from your door, his time has not come yet! My
time has not come yet, and he will go nowhere without me!"

Elrohir wheezed painfully, giving a small choking noise in his throat and
Elladan rubbed his back to move the heaviness from his lungs.

"I'm here, my sweetheart," he whispered into the pointed ear, loosening the
cloak from around Elrohir's neck. "We swore we would never be parted, Elrohir,
unless by death! If you die, you will take me with you. But my strength is not
enough to keep you here! Is my love not enough to keep you here?!" He lifted
his voice to the air. "Valar, if you heard the vow we made to each other, know
it was true! We will not be parted! If you must take him, do not leave me here
alone without him! Take me too. Or let me keep him. Give him the strength from
my body. Give him my love. Let him live."

Quaking with tears, Elladan curled up close to his brother's side. His heart
felt heavy and his body felt cold. Exhaustion held him in a warm embrace,
luring him to sleep. He tried to fight it, but he could not. He had no choice
but to succumb. His eyes fluttered shut and dreams bound him.

******

Imladris


"You want what?" Elrond raised his eyes over the breakfast table.
"Celebrían..."

"I want them found," she said firmly. She would not back down, not this time.
She had stood by Elrond for too long; she had lost hope for too long. She had
been alone for too long, but Arwen was on her side. They had shared a vision,
they shared a fear, and it would not come true if she could help it. "I do not
care what they have done, I just want to know they are safe. They are our sons,
Elrond. They are *my* sons, and I want them found."

"Do not look to me for help," he snorted, turning his attention back to his
boiled egg.

"I do not," she said. She had not expected his aid. She did not expect aid from
any of the men of Imladris, but she was not alone. She knew what she was going
to do, and nothing would make her change her mind. "I will ask my mother and
father. They will help me. They see sense. They still love our boys. Once the
winter's snow has passed I will journey to Lórien." She hoped a personal blow
might make Elrond change his mind but she doubted it. He was not her husband
anymore. He was not the man she had married. He was cold, and bitter, and
aloof. No joy came from his eyes anymore, no laughter from his lips. "And if
you continue to act like this, I may well stay there."

"Celebrían no..." Elrond looked worried.

"Or you can change your mind and have them found yourself," she said. "The
choice is yours, Elrond. Aid me, or I will do it alone. If I must chose now
between you and my sons..." It was an awful choice, a choice a wife and mother
should never have to make, but surely any woman would say the fruits of her
body were dearer than the man on her arm.

"No." He rose from his chair. "It is not that..." He looked truly terrified.
"Celebrían, I do not want you travelling that way. Orcs have been seen in great
number this winter, there have been attacks on the Redhorn Pass..."

"If it means getting my sons back, I will take that risk." She stood to oppose
him. "You will not stop me, Elrond. Not this time." All the orcs in the world
would not keep her from finding her children.

"Celebrían," Glorfindel looked up from his plate. "I am sorry, I should not
involve myself, but Elrond is right. That way is not safe. It will not be safe
until Spring when I can get my men out there to hunt the orcs down. Please
listen."

"Are you with me, Glorfindel?" she asked. "Whose side are you on?" Glorfindel
had always claimed to support her, he was her dearest friend, her best
confidante, but he never helped her. He would always take Elrond's side if
there was a side to be taken. He would rather take the side of the one he was
in love with, than the side of his closest friend. She had always known of his
love for Elrond, it had never been a threat to her marriage. Glorfindel was
noble, and honourable, he knew he loved in vain. But as far as Celebrían was
concerned now, he was quite welcome to Elrond. There was little she loved about
the Lord of Imladris now.

Glorfindel squirmed under the gaze of both Elrond and Celebrían. "That is not a
fair question to ask!" he cried. "I am on both of your sides. Can you not come
to an agreement?" He looked long at Celebrían. "Please, my Lady, listen to us.
The way is not safe. If you must go by that road, let me come with you."

"I do not need your company, Glorfindel," she said coldly. "You would be far
better staying here with Elrond. I would not want to confuse your priorities."

"My Lady!" Erestor stood, looking like he was about to say something strong,
then appeared to change his mind. "My Lord Elrond, I would not let her go." He
sunk back into his chair. "The reports we have had..."

"I know of the reports!" she shouted. "Do not treat me like I am a fool. You
males, you claim to be warriors? You have not a scrap of courage amongst the
lot of you, not in affairs like this!"

"My Lady Celebrían, please listen to us." Erestor stood again and walked around
the table to face her. "Please. Do not travel yet. We are not trying to stop
you; we do not want to see you hurt. Please." His dark eyes looked plaintively
at her. "I know what I am talking about." He quickly pulled up the sleeve of
his robe to reveal a haggard scar on his arm that had clearly been caused by a
vicious claw. "I have worse than that," he whispered, "and if I have to strip
naked here to show you, just to stop you going, I will."

Celebrían swallowed hard. Erestor's scar was over three millennia old. He had
been captured and tortured by orcs when working as a spy for Gil-galad. She
heard he had been nearly crippled in the attack, and badly scarred. Indeed, she
had never seen him clothed in any less than a robe. He was said to be conscious
of his injuries, but he was prepared to bare all, just to stop her
travelling....

"I want my sons back," she said, stepping away from the counsellor before his
wounds could spark her imagination. "I am going to Lothlórien, and I am taking
my daughter with me."

"You most certainly are not," Elrond said. "You are not taking Arwen anywhere
near danger. She is too precious to me. She is all we have."

"If you were not so stubborn, that could so easily change," she spat and turned
on her heel to stalk out of the room. As she slammed the door behind her she
saw Arwen seated on the wall. The only person in Imladris she could trust to
help her.

"I do not want to travel, Mother," Arwen said softly without looking up, "and I
do not think you should. It is too dangerous."

Celebrían sat beside her and put her arm about her shoulders. "Do you want your
brothers home?" she asked. "Arwen, my dear..." She did not want to put her
daughter in danger, or give her reason to fear. "I will not make you come with
me. I know the road is perilous, and I will take the best guards we have with
me for my protection. I must seek help in finding my sons. One day, when you
are a mother you will understand. There is no danger as great as the danger of
losing your children."

"There is no greater fear I have than losing my mother," Arwen whispered,
lifting tearful eyes to Celebrían. "I have already lost my brothers."

"Hush, sweetheart." Celebrían kissed her cheek. "They will be back," she
promised. "And so will I. I swear to you on my life. When I return, they will
be with me."

******

The fog of sleep peeled back to reveal a dark forest that Elladan recognised as
Mirkwood, but where there should have been undergrowth in the distance, a
strange light began to glow and he followed it with spellbound footsteps. The
white light grew brighter the closer he drew towards it, and after it had
blinded him in a whirlwind of coloured dots he found himself in the woods of
his homeland, yet it was not how he remembered it. The trees were younger, and
the land was greener.

Taking in the strange yet familiar surroundings, he was drawn by the sound of
weeping, and looked ahead of his path to see a small elf child, clad in a lilac
coloured tunic and short trousers running barefoot through the trees.

He wanted to call out 'Wait! Why do you cry?' but his voice made no sound.

Still, he followed, and the child led him deep into the woods, where Elladan
found him hiding in a hollow tree. The tree was familiar to Elladan's eyes. It
had been a favourite hideout when he had been a child, and he was surprised to
still be able to squeeze into the gap that he had outgrown at the age of
thirty.

The Elf child looked at him with silvery tearful eyes. "I have made Ada
cross," he whispered. "And my brother will hate me now."

'It cannot be that bad, surely?' Elladan wanted to ask, but again he could not
speak. He wanted to comfort the boy, feeling an uncomfortable connection with
him, but his arms would not move to wrap around him.

The sun set and night fell within an hour, and Elladan and the child sat
mirroring each other, each with their knees drawn to the chest, and their arms
around their legs.

Then the light that had led him into the dream appeared again, approaching, and
a voice called softly on the breeze.

"Elladan? Elladan? Where are you, child? Come to me."

'I am here!' he wanted to call, suddenly afraid to be lost in the dark. The
tree twisted in shape and the bark darkened. A smell of decaying leaves rose on
the suddenly heavy air and Elladan realised he was back in Mirkwood.

"Elladan..." The light came to the foot of the tree, and he stared out to find
Galadriel smiling kindly down at him, reaching out a pale hand. "Come from
there now."

He tried to scramble to his feet but he could not move, and instead the child
rose cautiously to his feet and crawled through the small gap.

"There you are, my child," Galadriel smiled down at the boy and took his hand.
"Your mother has been very worried about you. And Elrohir wants you to come
home. He has also run away, fearing he is in as much trouble as you are. He
wants to go back."

Elladan realised then that the child was himself, in miniature.

"Ada is cross," the child, his young self, sniffled.

"You know Ada over-reacts," Galadriel soothed. "Come home, Elladan. Your mother
weeps, Elrohir wilts, and all of Imladris mourns your loss."

"I matter little," the child murmured. "And I have done wrong. I cannot
return."

"You matter a lot, my dear," Galadriel wiped his tears. "And soon you will be
needed by all. It does not matter that you have done wrong. Whatever you do, we
will always love you. Wherever you run to, we will always find you. The place
you were born will always be your home. Come now."

And taking the child's hand, she led him out of the woods, out of the darkness
of Mirkwood and into the light of Imladris, and in the distance of the light he
could see another radiant figure dressed in a cloak of pale blue, awaiting the
child with open arms. Celebrían...

"Grandma! Mother!" Elladan cried, trying to crawl through the gash in the tree,
but it was too small for him, he was trapped. "Do not leave me here!" he wept.
"Do not leave me..."

He awoke with a gasp, and glanced around quickly to see that he was still in
the same spot, in the forest, beside Elrohir. It had been a dream. Just a
dream...

"It is all right," a voice whispered hoarsely by his ear and he felt arms
tighten around him. "Elladan..."

"Elrohir?" He raised his head to look at his twin. He must still be dreaming,
Elrohir could not be speaking to him, he could not be holding him. But he was.
He was alive! He was awake! "Elrohir!" he cried, hugging him close. "I thought
I had lost you!"

Elrohir kissed his lips gently, then coughed as Elladan squeezed him. "You
brought me back, Elladan," he said. "Your love brought me back."

"My prayers were answered," Elladan whispered touching Elrohir's face. He was
alarmed to feel that his twin still felt a bit hot and clammy, but his
temperature had dropped considerably. "How do you feel?"

"Oh, I am fine." Elrohir smiled faintly. "No, I lie. I feel awful, but I do not
feel like I am on the doorstep of death."

Elrohir inclined his sight to the tree canopy above and bit into his lip.
Something was going through his mind, Elladan knew it. Something bad. But he
was alive! He had fought, and he had made it through. That was all that
mattered.

"We will be all right." Elladan hugged him again, gently this time. "We will
rest then move on when you are feeling stronger. We must find some help, love.
It feels like defeat, but... "

"I know," Elrohir said softly, and laid his head down again. Tears shone in his
eyes. "We must move on."

Elladan sighed. The disease had failed to take Elrohir from him, but grief
still could. A shadow was hanging over Elrohir's heart, and he was weak.
Elladan could not risk losing him again. "What can I do for you, my love?" he
asked. "What will make you feel better?"

"I want to go home," Elrohir whispered, avoiding Elladan's eyes. "If you wish
me to be honest, Elladan... that is what I want." His voice trembled as he
began to cry. "I am sick of running. I think we should go back." He sat up
shakily. "I am going back," he said so quietly Elladan hardly heard him. "I
have decided."

Elladan could not believe his ears. Elrohir had decided?! With no word to him?
No discussion? Not a care? He had *decided* that *he* was going back? He must
still be dreaming...

"Elladan, say something?" Elrohir looked tearfully at him.

"You... you are going back?" Elladan asked. "Elrohir..."

"I am going," Elrohir said firmly. "Do not try to stop me, Elladan. I will not
die here in the Wild."

Elladan looked into his brother's eyes and saw nothing but truth and
determination. "Fine," he said stiffly. "Then you may go home, but do not
expect me to accompany you." He would not go back to Imladris for *anything*.
What did Elrohir hope to achieve by going back? They would not be welcomed
home. He would not do it, and he would not let Elrohir do it either. "If you
want to give up so easily, then do so." He sat up and rose to his knees to
mirror Elrohir. "Things take time. I know our first chance failed..."

"All our chances will fail!" Elrohir interrupted. "So long as we love each
other like this. We will be thrown out wherever we go. And where will we go
next? And what will stop us starving or freezing to death on the way? I will
not live like that."

"Well..." Elladan sat back on his heels with a shuddering breath. Elrohir was
determined. "You have always been a coward!" he accused him. "You would run
away, and leave me, just because you are afraid?! Mind, it wouldn't be the
first time you have done that." He barely flinched as Elrohir's hand slapped
his face. "Does your fear surpass even your love for me?" he shouted in anger
and fear.

"Does your hatred of Father surpass even your love for me?" Elrohir retorted,
rising to his feet. "And I would say you are the coward this time, my brother.
I am not the one running away. I am returning to face my problems. I have
changed. But you... you have not changed. In some ways you have, and not for
the best, but in other ways you are the same as ever. You would rather hide in
bitterness, than face up to your fears."

"Then if it so important to you, by all means go," Elladan said. He did not
believe that Elrohir would leave him, he could not. "Throw away what we have!
Throw away all we have fought for. Go! But I will not follow you. Do not be
surprised if anything ill befalls you. You do not even know the way back to
Imladris."

"I may not," Elrohir replied, with anger in his voice that Elladan had never
heard before. "But Daevorn does. Find your way home without a horse."

"You will not take my horse!" Elladan jumped up and stepped before Daevorn,
holding her fast. "You will go nowhere, Elrohir!"

"Won't I?" Elrohir mounted Daevorn's back. "Watch me." He looked down at
Elladan with a stern face. "Why must you always underestimate me? Why do you
always think I am incapable of standing on my own two feet without your aid? I
do not always need to be cared for, Elladan. I have shown that much this past
decade. And I have lived without you before."

"Yes, indeed you have!" Elladan cried. "You lived very well from what I
heard!" He wiped his tears on his sleeve. "Why don't you go back to Rúmil? If
he gave you so much independence, go back to him! I'm sure he'll welcome you
with open legs."

Elrohir gazed down at him with emotions swirling in his eyes. Love, fear,
grief, anger, a plea... "If you love me, Elladan," he said, his face flinching
as tears poured down his cheeks.

"Elrohir, you know I do," Elladan wept.

"If you love me, then you will know where to find me," he whispered, and urged
Daevorn forward through the trees.

Elladan watched as Elrohir rode out of his sight. He did not even look back. He
did not even say goodbye. He had taken Daevorn and the only cloak they had.
Elladan had no choice but to follow him, but he would not. He could not.

He dropped back to the floor and wept loudly into his hands. Elrohir had left
him. Elrohir's fears had pulled him away once more. He had sworn never to run
in fear again. He had sworn to stay with Elladan, through all his doubts. Now
he had run away.

"I never should have believed him," Elladan whispered to himself as betrayal
stabbed him in the heart. "I never should have believed him...."

Elrohir was a coward. He always had been. He always would be. And Elladan had
to pay the price for it. Again.

He could not live without Elrohir. Not now, not after loving him and having him
for so long. But he could not live to go back to Imladris. He could not live to
be a coward. So he would die. Alone. There was nothing else to do. There was no
life without Elrohir. Life without Elrohir was a mere existence, a hollow and
pointless journey.

Lying down in the leaves, Elladan curled up tightly into himself. "Mandos," he
whispered. "I take back my prayer. Take me now. Take me, and spare Elrohir." He
closed his eyes, and sleep took him swiftly. 

He just had to wait...

"Wake up, Lord Elladan." Something prodded him in the ribs. "Wake up."

Elladan grumbled and stirred, blinking his eyes open. Rather than seeing
Mandos, he saw three Elven archers flanking him with arrows aimed at him. He
screwed his eyes up, wondering how much of the last day had been real and how
much he had dreamed; but when he opened his eyes again, Elrohir was not there,
Daevorn was not there, and the archers were.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

The archers were pale haired and dressed in brown and green but they were not
of Mirkwood. They were Galadhrim. These Elves were from Lothlórien. The one in
front of him he knew by the name of Dinendal, and he was of the royal guard.

"We have come to bring you before your grandparents," Dinendal said. "It is
under their order that we are here." He grabbed Elladan by the arm and hauled
him to his feet. "We have no time to delay."

"And if I will not go?" Elladan struggled wildly, but it was to no avail. The
two other guards bound his wrists with tight rope as Dinendal held his hands
behind his back.

"You will go because Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have ordered that you
do," Dinendal told him. "And you will go by force if necessary."

"How dare you?" Elladan cried, struggling in his bonds as he was prodded
forward to a horse. They had come by horseback. They had come for him. He
wanted to scream with anguish. He had refused to return to Imladris with
Elrohir, and now he was to be dragged to Lórien against his will. He should
have gone with Elrohir. Now Elrohir was out there somewhere, and Elladan did
not know where.

"You will ride with me, Master Elladan," Dinendal said and forced Elladan up
onto the steed's back.

"But..." Elladan tried to say.

"Do not think about complaining. I have a cloth in my pocket that I am
permitted to gag you with, if I need to."

"But you do not understand!" Elladan cried, squirming in a fight for freedom.

"Be silent." Dinendal held him tightly. "We ride!" he called to his men and
kicked his horse into a gallop.

Elladan closed his eyes against his tears. He was going to Caras Galadhon. He
was to be punished at last. But that meant nothing against the weight of the
knowledge that Elrohir was lost.