Title: Elven Hearts Part 6/? 
Author: Anonymous slashlover 
E-mail: katemahoney@prodigy.net 
Pairing: Elrond/Glorfindel, Elladan/Glorfindel 
Rating: R 
Summary: Long after the incidents which pushed Imladris into 
turmoil, things are about to change again. 
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. Enough said. 
Notes: Please give me feedback…please?? 
 
The first raid came just before the sun rose. Elrond had given them 
all express orders not to kill any of the elves they were fighting. 
Whatever else, Elrond did not condone kinslaying, and would do 
nearly anything to prevent any elves’ death being his own fault. It 
was around midday when he realized how high-minded his policy 
was. He had passed at least a dozen dead Imladris warriors in the 
past hour, and knew that his foes had no qualms about kinslaying. 
So he passed on the word to all he passed, as much as it pained 
him, to kill if necessary. 
 
Apart from that, though, he had never felt quite so alive. Killing was 
something he knew he was good at, though he did not like it. He 
much preferred to be renowned for ability to help, not to harm, but 
one did only what one could. Glorfindel was better than he was, 
and the two were a veritable whirlwind in the battle. Elrond also 
noticed in passing that Elladan was well on his way to becoming as 
skilled as himself or Glorfindel. If this fight lasted long, Elladan 
could become enough of a master to really be able to defend 
himself. 
 
The day was long, longer than any Elrond had experienced in a 
long time. He had a routine that he had built up over centuries, and 
it was rare for him to break that ritual. Now he had. The two sides 
fought well into the night, and it was only after the leader of the 
other side (Elrond had no idea who it was, but he guessed that he 
was still alive, as the rebels still seemed to have some 
organization) seemed to realize this that they pulled back. Elrond’s 
warriors followed them for a little while, but Elrond called them 
back. For his warriors to chase the rebels would invite only more 
death. Maybe with the results of today, they would give up and 
tomorrow they could start rebuilding and forgetting. 
 
Glorfindel came up to him and pulled him close. Elrond smelled like 
blood, but Glorfindel didn’t really care right now. All that mattered 
was that Elrond had survived. “Good to see you’re still here,” he 
murmured as light-heartedly as he could. 
 
“I know,” replied Elrond. He pulled away from the taller elf, and 
looked down at the ground. Even though it was dark, he could tell 
that the liquid that was turning the dirt into mud was not water. That 
dimmed whatever smile Elrond might have managed. “It’s been a 
long day, and I’m tired like I haven’t been in a long time…let’s go to 
bed.” 
 
Glorfindel nodded. “I can’t think of anything better right now. 
But…have you seen Elladan recently?” 
 
“How recently?” 
 
“Well, I haven’t seen him in a couple of hours. We should probably 
make sure that he’s fine first.” 
 
A spike of fear pierced Elrond’s heart. “Yes, of course.” Though he 
knew that such a search could take a very long time. It was pitch-
black outside and there was many elves milling around. And it was 
loud enough that just shouting out his name would get them 
nowhere. So they began to push their way through the crowd, each 
searching the faces around them and the bodies at their feet. 
 
“Father?” came a voice from behind. 
 
Elrond turned and saw Elladan. He was dirty and tired and had a 
long bloody scratch down the side of his face, but he was alive. 
Elrond threw his arms around his son. “Elladan, you have no idea 
how glad I am to be alive.” 
 
“Father,” said Elladan in a scared voice, “how long is this going to 
last?” 
 
“I don’t know.” He pulled away from Elladan and looked clinically at 
the scratch down his son’s face. It wasn’t all that deep, but it was 
bleeding quite a bit and could easily be infected under such 
conditions as these. But he was too tired to be able to do anything 
about. “Go to the healers to see about your face. I’m too tired right 
now.” 
 
Elladan nodded, and hugged his father again. On impulse, he then 
proceeded to hug Glorfindel. Then he looked at both of them and 
said, “I’ll see you in the morning. But I think that tomorrow will be 
much the same as today.” 
 
Elrond hated to admit it, but he knew that his son was probably 
right. 
 
***** 
 
Elrohir hadn’t gone out to fight, as Belegtur had ordered. But he 
had been the one to set up their camp just a few hundred meters 
from the Last Homely House. He saw all the elves as they came in, 
somehow hoping that Belegtur had been killed. He knew that if that 
happened, he would be able to escape. 
 
But then he saw the elf. Belegtur walked over to him. “Princeling, 
today we struck a mighty blow against your father.” 
 
“I don’t believe you,” said Elrohir honestly. They had been fighting 
too long and too many elves had not come back for that to be true. 
“I think you will lose. But I believe that if you offer to surrender now, 
my father…” 
 
Belegtur struck Elrohir hard across the face. Elrohir staggered 
beneath the blow. “Have you learned nothing here, princeling? Your 
father hates us, and he will never treat with us. We have long 
learned to accept it, and when we are finished with you, you will 
learn as well.” 
 
“I will not allow you to kill my family.” About some things, Elrohir 
had to remain strong. “I love them. I would do anything for them. 
Just as you would do anything for your family. Could you kill those 
you love?” 
 
“Those I love are not hypocritical scum!” 
 
“And neither is my father!” 
 
“Shut up, princeling.” Belegtur’s voice was low and dangerous. “Do 
not speak about what you do not know. I have killed elves today. 
 Now, you have some healing skills, yes?” 
 
Elrohir couldn’t help but nod. “Yes.” 
 
“Then get to work on my elves. They need your help.” 
 
Elrohir couldn’t say what he truly felt. What he really felt was that 
there was no way that he could help these elves because they were 
fighting against his father. What he truly felt was that all of these 
elves should simply be struck dead right now. What he felt right 
now was that he would rather kill himself than help these elves. But 
he couldn’t say any of that, and so simply said, “Fine.” 
 
***** 
 
Elrond collapsed down onto his bed and closed his eyes. A few 
seconds later, he felt gentle hands remove his boots. He would 
have thanked Glorfindel, but frankly, he was too tired to do so. 
Moments after his boots were moved, the hands had moved to his 
waist, to remove his pants. Elrond allowed Glorfindel to do this as 
well, and also to remove his shirt. 
 
A minute or so later, Elrond felt Glorfindel sit on the bed. “Sit up, 
meleth,” said Glorfindel softly. 
 
“I’m not sure I can.” 
 
“Please.” 
 
Elrond pulled himself up to a sitting position. One of Glorfindel’s 
strong arms folded around his waist and pulled him backwards. 
Elrond couldn’t have stopped Glorfindel even had he wanted to. 
Then Glorfindel’s more than capable hands began to massage the 
tension out of Elrond’s shoulders and back. 
 
“I love you,” said Elrond softly. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved 
anyone.” But, as ever, that traitorous thought crept into his mind. 
*Except Erestor*. 
 
“I know. I was scared today, Elrond. Not that I would die. Not that 
those bastards out there would win. But that I would lose you. I 
don’t think I could bear to do that. You are so precious to me, 
Elrond. I would do anything for you.” 
 
“Would you now?” Elrond squirmed out of Glorfindel’s grasp and 
pinned Glorfindel down. 
 
“I thought you were tired,” said Glorfindel uncomplainingly as gentle 
kisses made their way down his cheek and down his throat. 
Glorfindel had already removed his clothes, seeing them as nothing 
but a menace in bed. 
 
Elrond paused long enough to say, “Do you want me to stop?” 
 
Glorfindel shook his head and lay back, enjoying the fact that he 
had a lover and that there was someone to go back to after the 
battle was over. “Elrond, do you think that you could do me a huge 
favor?” 
 
Elrond looked up, smiling. He moved up to curl beside Glorfindel. 
“That would honestly depend on what said favor was.” 
 
“Bond with me.” 
 
Elrond moved a little away from Glorfindel. “What?” 
 
Glorfindel pulled Elrond back over and kissed him, rolling on top of 
him. Taking both of Elrond’s wrists in his own, he pinned Elrond’s 
arms above his head. Elrond tried to squirm out of this, but both of 
them knew two things; that Glorfindel was stronger, and that Elrond 
liked this. 
 
“Bond with me.” 
 
“Glorfindel, that’s…” 
 
“We have been together for centuries, meleth. I can’t see why you 
would want anything but to bond with me…unless there’s someone 
else. But I think that I would know about this other someone.” 
 
The real reason was that, for some reason, Elrond still resented 
Glorfindel a little for driving Erestor away and ultimately being the 
cause of his death. And that he wasn’t entirely sure that Glorfindel 
was completely faithful. But Elrond had no proof of this, so he never 
brought it up. None of those reasons, though, were ones that 
Elrond could give to Glorfindel. “I’m the ruler of Imladris…” 
 
Glorfindel raised his other hand. He held his hand in a fist, and then 
stuck his first finger up. “One, everyone already knows that we’re 
together. We never made a secret of it.” Another finger went up. 
Two, you’ve already bonded once, and you have heirs. That’s not 
of consequence anymore.” And now a third finger. “Three, I’m sick 
and tired of this lack of commitment. I went through that with 
Erestor and I refuse to sit through the same thing with you. I love 
you and I want to make this real.” 
 
“That’s fine, Glorfindel. I love you. You know that. But I bonded with 
Celebrìan only because I had to. Celeborn and Galadriel forced me 
to. Before that…maybe I’m just not the type that likes to bond.” 
 
“You have never felt strongly enough about anyone to commit to 
them? And I’m not just talking about me now. I know you’ve had 
lovers in the past. You never loved any of them?” 
 
*No. I’ve been obsessed with Erestor ever since I met him. All my 
lovers were inconsequential.* “I have never loved them enough to 
want to bond with them.” A long pause. “Glorfindel, do we have to 
talk about this right now? I’m tired and so are you. I don’t want to 
have to make a decision like this when I’m under such an 
extraordinary amount of stress.” 
 
Glorfindel sighed and rolled off of Elrond. He lay down facing away 
from Elrond, and he inched away every time that Elrond attempted 
to get close. Elrond finally gave up and retreated to the other side 
of the bed. He wished that Glorfindel wouldn’t be so difficult about 
this. They had just had one of (in Elrond’s mind) the most important 
battles since those of the Last Alliance. And all Glorfindel could 
think of was to ask a question of such monumental importance? 
Glorfindel could be like that sometimes. It was, Elrond admitted, 
one of the reasons that Elrond knew he could never devote his 
whole heart to this elf that had shared his bed for more than a 
millennia. Glorfindel was just too different in such miniscule ways 
from him that it always seemed that some tiny piece was missing. If 
that piece was filled, then the two of them would complete each 
other. But that was missing, and Elrond knew that he couldn’t be 
bonded to someone that he wouldn’t be complete with. With 
Celebrìan, Elrond had found this out. It had been, essentially, an 
arranged bonding, and while they both kept up a good façade, it 
was a tumultuous relationship. They were friends before the 
bonding, but the intimacy that bonding created drove a wedge 
between them. They had managed to keep these tensions away 
from the children, but Glorfindel had known they existed all along. It 
was, in a horrible way, almost a relief when Celebrìan sailed to 
Valinor.  It meant that Elrond could finally stop pretending. So why 
would Glorfindel try to press this issue with him right now? 
 
Elrond forced himself to stop thinking these things. He had to be 
ready to fight tomorrow and that meant that he would have to get 
some sleep. So he cleared his mind of his problems and fell asleep. 
The image that he saw right before he drifted to sleep was Erestor’s 
face. 
 
***** 
 
Elladan woke to the sounds of swords clashing. Immediately, he 
opened his eyes and reached beside him to take his sword. But it 
was dark outside and there were none of the other sounds of battle; 
no screams of dying men, no triumphant shouts of those who lived, 
and the stench of death wasn’t quite as thick anymore. So he 
looked around for the sounds, and saw a slender, dark-haired elf in 
the corner apparently teaching a younger elf some combat moves. 
The older elf had warrior braids, but was dressed in common 
clothes, not even Imladris colors. 
 
Elladan must have made some noise as he sat up, for the elf 
looked at him with warm eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry if I woke you, 
Master Elladan. It was not my intent.” 
 
Elladan shook his head. Something about this elf was immediately 
extremely attractive to him, even though he could tell that the elf 
was at least decently old, if not quite as old as his father or 
Glorfindel. “No, it’s fine. Keep going. I want to watch.” 
 
The elf shrugged. “As you wish, Master Elladan.” He turned back to 
his pupil. “Again.” They went through the same motions as before, 
and Elladan could tell that the older elf was very skilled. The two 
practiced for a little while longer, and then the older told the other to 
go back to bed. He walked over to Elladan then. 
 
“What’s your name?” asked Elladan. 
 
“Dùlith,” said the elf, sitting down on the edge of Elladan’s bed. 
 
“Where do you call home? Lorien? Mirkwood?” 
 
“I do not live in any elven realm. I am a farmer, I live near Imladris.” 
 
“Then how did you come by such skills with a sword?” 
 
Dùlith smiled. “I fought in the Last Alliance. After that, I wanted to 
hang up my sword, so to speak. So I have been a farmer since 
then. But Lord Elrond has kept me reasonably safe despite the fact 
that I do not actually live in Imladris, so I figured that this was the 
least I could do in repayment.” 
 
Elladan was a little disappointed. Dùlith was much older than him. 
He had felt an inexplicable attraction to him and now wasn’t sure 
why. He generally didn’t fall for older elves. “Do you think that you 
could show me some of those moves?” 
 
Dùlith smiled more broadly. “Certainly, Master Elladan. But surely 
your father and Lord Glorfindel have passed on their knowledge to 
you. I can assure you that their skills far surpass my own.” 
 
“Yeah, but I’ve known them forever. And they’re always…it’s like 
they’re always holding something back from me.” 
 
“I see. Then get up, Master Elladan.” 
 
“You can call me Elladan, you know. Everyone else does.” Elladan 
was somehow disturbed and slightly upset at the elf’s insistence on 
formality. But he got up anyhow and took out his sword. 
 
“That is a beautiful weapon, Master Elladan. Did it once belong to 
Lord Elrond?” 
 
Elladan frowned. As a matter of fact, it had. It had been one of his 
father’s prize possessions, and Elladan had seen the pain in his 
father’s face when Elladan asked for it as a gift in order for clearing 
a particularly vicious orc patrol. But his father had gifted it to him 
anyway. “Yes, it did. How did you know?” 
 
“I have heard stories. Do you know it’s name?” 
 
“No, my father never told me. What is it called?” 
 
“Meldîn.” 
 
Elladan frowned as he translated that. “Meldîn? Silent Love? 
[Author’s note: hope I translated that right.] Where would it get a 
name like that?” 
 
Dùlith shrugged. “That is just what it is called. I did not name it. You 
carry a sword of greatness, Master Elladan. Let us see if you can 
use it as such.” Dùlith held up his own sword. It was well-worn, but 
it looked cared for. 
 
They stepped away from the bed and Dùlith made the first strike, 
one that cut into Elladan’s unprotected right arm. Elladan nearly 
dropped his sword and danced back. “What was that?” 
 
“Be careful, Master Elladan. You must always be on your toes. An 
enemy will not always tell you when they are about to attack. Now, 
let us fight.” 
 
Elladan was angry now. Not exactly angry at Dùlith, it was more like 
the pain drove him. He backed Dùlith against the wall. “Maybe 
you’re not so good as you looked before.” 
 
Dùlith smiled and turned the fight around with a deft move so quick 
that Elladan didn’t know what happened to him until he had his 
back to a wall with Dùlith’s swordpoint at his throat. Dùlith backed 
down. “Yes, I am. But you should get some sleep, Master Elladan. 
There will be enough time for fighting once the day breaks.” 
 
***** 
 
Haldir rode into Imladris just after dawn at the head of a force of 
two hundred warriors. The stench was almost overpowering. Haldir 
had not smelled this much death in millennia and it saddened him 
more than he could say. The land around the Last Homely House 
looked like a battlefield. The ground was torn up and the blood had 
soaked into everything. Most of the bodies still lay where they fell, 
and already Haldir saw elves he knew. His breath caught in his 
throat and he closed his eyes, mumbling a prayer for the dead. 
Then he rode into the courtyard and dismounted. Knowing that 
niceties were not as important right now, he did not wait for anyone 
to come and greet him. He entered and went immediately to 
Elrond’s room, where he found both Elrond and Glorfindel nearly 
dressed for battle. 
 
Elrond turned as Haldir entered. A look of hate flashed briefly 
before his eyes, but it mellowed quickly. “Did Celeborn send you?” 
 
“Yes, Elrond. It’s a bloody mess out there. Have you seen it?” 
 
“I was fighting in it.” 
 
Haldir nodded. “I’ve brought two hundred warriors.” 
 
Elrond smiled. “Good. We’ll need every sword we can get. These 
rebels, they’re a lot more talented than I thought they would be. 
We’ll win, but there’s no telling how long it’s going to take or how 
many of mine must die. I just want this to be over, Haldir.” 
 
“I know. I am glad to be able to fight at your side, Elrond. It’s time 
for us to put those old hates behind us. This has to make both of 
see how pointless they are. Erestor has been dead for centuries, 
there’s no reason for us to still be angry with each other over that.” 
 
Elrond nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry, my friend.” 
 
“No need for apologies. It’s time to go fight.” 
 
Elrond’s smile faded. “Yes, it is.” 
 
***** 
 
Elrohir watched as the elves began to dress for battle. He wished 
that he could stop them, he wished that he could make sure that no 
more had to die. It hurt him deeply to know that there was such a 
kinslaying occurring, and that he had helped to heal those who had 
instigated the fight. He knew that there would be no forgiveness for 
him when this was all over. Everyone, even if they didn’t say it, 
would view him as having helped the enemy of his own will, and all 
would shun him. It was a good thing that Elladan was Elrond’s heir, 
for Imladris would never accept him. 
 
“Princeling,” said Belegtur, walking over to him. 
 
“Yes?” 
 
“Get ready to go out there.” 
 
“You want me to fight?” 
 
“No, princeling. I want you to haul away our dead. They will not rot 
where they fell. I would not ask you to fight. I know you would not 
stay loyal.” 
 
“I’m not going out there.” 
 
Belegtur pulled out his sword. “You will, princeling, or I will kill you 
right now, right here.” 
 
“I am the only healer you have. To send me out there would be a 
death sentence. You and I both know that. You would be a fool to 
do this when you know that if I die, there will no longer be anyone 
to help you when you get hurt.” Elrohir hated to play that card, but it 
was seriously his only option. 
 
Belegtur nodded. He could see the sense in that. He touched his 
sword lightly against Elrohir’s throat, letting him feel the metal graze 
lightly against the skin. “Princeling, I am only keeping you alive for 
the things you can do for my companions. As soon as you cease to 
be useful, I will not hesitate to kill you. I think it’s just important that 
you know that.” 
 
Elrohir swallowed hard, and nodded. “Of course.” He looked 
Belegtur over, and tried to think of a way to ingratiate himself with 
the elf. “Could I help you with your armor?” 
 
Belegtur’s eyes narrowed in suspicion of treachery. “I suppose. 
Come with me.” 
 
Elrohir followed Belegtur, hating himself for wanting to help this evil, 
hating himself for not just killing Belegtur, hating himself for not just 
killing himself. 
 
***** 
 
Glorfindel heard footsteps rushing down the hall and instinctively 
drew his sword. But it was just Elladan. “Good morning, Elladan,” 
he said. After an almost invisible glance to make sure that no one, 
especially Elrond or Haldir, was around, he kissed Elladan lightly, 
quickly. 
 
“Where’s my father?” 
 
“With Haldir. They will be here shortly.” 
 
As if on cue, the two appeared. Elrond saw Elladan and looked his 
face over. There would be a slight scar, but that would fade with 
time. “Good morning, Elladan.” 
 
“Why did you never tell me the sword had a name?” 
 
Elrond looked momentarily confused (such an expression was 
extremely rare), and asked, “Which sword?” 
 
Elladan drew his sword. “Meldîn. Why did you never tell me?” 
 
Elrond’s gaze locked with Glorfindel’s for a moment. Glorfindel 
shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly; he had not been the 
one to tell Elladan. “Where did you hear that from?” Elrond asked, 
trying desperately hard not to sound too agitated. 
 
“An elf told me last night. He said that there were stories about it.” 
 
“A few,” admitted Elrond. 
 
“So why didn’t you tell me?” 
 
“Must have slipped my mind. Now, I’m sure there are more 
important things we should be doing than discussing the name of 
your sword. We should be out there, preparing for battle.” A 
momentary pause. “Coincidentally, who was this elf?” 
 
Elladan’s face screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember 
the name. “I think…he said his name was Dùlith.” 
 
Elrond frowned, trying to recall any he knew of that name. None 
came to mind. He promptly dismissed the thought; he had not 
dwelled on this sword’s name for a long time. He had named it after 
Erestor, and had eventually told Erestor about it. Erestor had been 
amused at the time, Elrond recalled, and had even given him a 
quick kiss for it. Elrond smiled fondly at that sudden memory. Then 
he cleared his mind; fighting was the thing to do now, not think 
about times past. There would be time for that after the fighting was 
over. “Let’s go out there and fight, then.” 
 
Elladan nodded. “I have to go, then. There’s some friends I 
promised to see before the fight begins today.” 
 
Elrond nodded, and watched his son run off. He swallowed hard 
and looked at Haldir and Glorfindel, forcing a brief smile. 
 
“Meldîn,” said Haldir thoughtfully. “That was your sword during the 
Last Alliance, wasn’t it?” 
 
Elrond nodded. “Yes.” 
 
“Why did you give it to Elladan?” 
 
Elladan, who had remained deliberately out of sight but still in 
hearing distance, waited for the answer. 
 
“I had to forget Erestor.” 
 
Elladan frowned now. Who was Erestor? Elladan had never heard 
his name before. But had he been a lover of his father’s? He 
somehow couldn’t see his father being with anyone other than 
Celebrìan or Glorfindel. This was something he was going to have 
to investigate further. 
 
***** 
 
And so the second day of battle began. Both sides appeared to be 
more restrained. Both had lost at least half of their numbers the 
previous day and there were a lot less elves to fight. Elrond and his 
warriors pursued a more aggressive strategy than the previous day 
and Belegtur and his force were much more defensive. This 
spurred Elrond on, and he fought harder. 
 
He couldn’t get Erestor out of his mind today. He couldn’t help but 
remember all the times they had spent together. He supposed it 
was because of the sword. That made Elrond think of the time that 
he had given the sword its name. 
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
 
It was near the end of the fighting, though none of them knew that 
at the time. The tide had turned, but no one was sure how much 
longer it was going to last, Elrond among them. He knew that he 
was no longer in control of the course of the war. That was 
Erestor’s domain. Erestor typically visited him every evening, and 
they would talk well into the night. Elrond had been trying to work 
up the courage to ask Erestor to spend the night, but the aloofness 
that Erestor radiated seemed to imply that he wanted to be alone. 
 
Erestor walked in that night. His shirt was open, as it was warm 
outside, and it showed off the clearly-defined muscles of his chest 
and abdomen. It made Elrond hard just to see him like that. “Good 
evening, my lord.” 
 
“Evening, Erestor. So, is there to be a battle tomorrow?” 
 
Erestor smiled. “No. I’m tired, and I need to sleep. So there’s going 
to be no fighting until I am back in the mood.” 
 
“And do our foes know this plan of yours?” 
 
The smile broadened. “I’m afraid not.” 
 
Elrond melted like butter at that smile. Erestor, he knew, was the 
most beautiful elf in the world. His dark hair was like silk, his skin 
smooth and unlined. Elrond couldn’t think of a gem in all of Arda 
that he would want more than Erestor. Nothing could compare. “So 
there may indeed by a battle?” 
 
“I am not a god, my lord.” 
 
*You are to me.* Elrond got up to start a small fire. It was not cold, 
but it would soon be dark, and if it was dark, Elrond wouldn’t be 
able to look upon Erestor’s face. As the fire caught, the metal of his 
sword gleamed brilliantly, looking for an instant like Erestor’s smile. 
It was at that moment that Elrond decided upon the name for the 
sword that he had had forged before he had set out from Imladris. 
The only name that could capture the beauty that he had seen in 
that sword was Erestor’s. But a sword could not carry a name like 
that, so Elrond would have to think on a secret name for it that 
would keep his heartache secret. 
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
 
Elrond smiled, and he closed his eyes for a second in 
remembrance. That second proved to be a terrible mistake. 
Belegtur saw Elrond and grinned to himself. Raising his sword, he 
landed a powerful blow to Elrond’s upper back. Elrond’s eyes flew 
open and his view was dimmed by agony. Having lost feeling 
throughout his body, he fell off his horse and landed hard on the 
ground. His sight started to dim at the edges and he shook his 
head, trying to overcome the pain. But it was impossible. Right 
before he passed out, he saw a tall, handsome elf stand above him, 
a sword in the elf’s hand. 
 
Elrond knew he was going to die. 
 
***** 
 
Haldir was overcome by bloodlust. He didn’t know quite how it had 
happened. One second he had been quite in control of himself, and 
the next he was just killing left and right. In some back part of his 
mind, he knew he would hate himself for this later, but all he could 
imagine in his mind’s eye right now was that all of these elves had 
somehow been responsible for Erestor’s death. Seeing that old 
sword this morning had driven that home and now Haldir could 
think of nothing else. 
 
A hand came to rest firmly on his shoulder. He swung around, his 
sword slicing around in a deadly arc. Another sword pushed the 
strike back. It was Glorfindel. “You’ve done enough for today,” he 
said loudly, so as to be heard over the general clamor of the battle. 
 
“You know nothing, murderer.” 
 
“Haldir, go to the healers. You’re bleeding badly.” 
 
Haldir looked at his arm and saw, for the first time, a deep bloody 
gash running down most of his arm. For the life of him, he couldn’t 
remember how it had gotten there. His rage faded as the pain set 
in. “Yes, Glorfindel,” he said meekly. 
 
“I’ll take you there, to make sure that’s where you go,” said 
Glorfindel. He began to lead Haldir away from the center of the 
battle, swatting aside the occasional elf. Finally, they got outside of 
the battle and made their way to the healer’s tents. Glorfindel left 
Haldir in the more than capable hands of a healer and headed back 
into the fray. He had to fight, they all had to fight. But Haldir would 
have gotten himself killed if Glorfindel had allowed him to stay.  And 
as much as Glorfindel harbored a little resentment towards Haldir, 
what Haldir had said this morning was true. They couldn’t let such 
petty quarrels divide them when they were faced with such a 
monumental crisis as this. 
 
***** 
 
Elladan was nearly killed by a chance blow from an elf much 
stronger than him. He struggled under the crushing weight of the 
sword. Suddenly, the weight became nothing. Elladan frowned until 
he saw Dùlith standing behind the now-dead elf, his sword dripping 
fresh blood. “Be more careful, Master Elladan. You are the heir to 
Imladris.” 
 
“I can take care of myself.” 
 
“I’m sure you can, Master Elladan. But I’ll still be here to watch your 
back.” And then Dùlith disappeared again into the mass of elves. 
 
Elladan smiled. This was definitely an elf he liked a lot. He would 
have to find some way to convince Dùlith to stay here after the 
battle was over. Elladan was morbidly sure that he would get on 
wonderfully with Elrond and Glorfindel, and the three would find 
endless incredibly boring things to discuss with each other. Elladan 
was sure that when not fighting, Dùlith would be just as boring as 
his father and Glorfindel. But that didn’t mean that Elladan wasn’t 
attracted to him. 
 
He darted back into the fight as well. The sounds and sights and 
smells overwhelmed him for an instant until he could manage to 
clear his mind. He was jostled on every side by elves and it was, at 
times, hard to tell what side some elves were on. Elladan was 
certain that many elves died at the hands of those on their side, as 
it would be impossible for it to not happen. He shut his mind down 
as much as he could and began to kill methodically. He was certain 
that future generations would condemn Elrond and all of his kin for 
involving themselves in this, but Elladan saw it as a matter of 
survival. He would rather be a disgraced, living elf, than an 
honorable dead one. 
 
So caught up on trying his best to notice nothing, he almost didn’t 
realize who lay at his feet for nearly five minutes. Finally, his gaze 
turned to the elf at his feet. The elf was wearing Imladris colors, 
albeit stained so thoroughly with blood that they did not appear to 
be those of Imladris any longer. The dark hair was matted with 
blood. A terrible gash ran down the center of the elf’s chest. The 
eyes were dull and unfocused, staring silently into nothingness. 
 
Elladan dropped to his knees, his eyes becoming blurry with tears. 
“Father,” he cried softly, reaching over to gently push the eyelids 
over those horrible dead eyes. “Father.” 
 
***** 
 
Celeborn was accustomed to things going wrong. He had lived a 
very long life and knew that it was better to be worried if nothing 
went wrong. Those were the troubling circumstances. He had dealt 
with all manner of terrible crises before, and through them all, no 
matter how emotional he ended up getting over them, Galadriel 
always stayed calm. She was the perfect balance for him. She was 
always calm, so much so that he was sometimes afraid of her. 
 
And that was why he was terrified beyond measure when he heard 
Galadriel weeping. He had never seen her cry before and couldn’t 
imagine, didn’t want to imagine, what would send her into such 
despair. Hesitant to disturb her, but knowing that it was his duty as 
her bonded mate to comfort her, he walked softly into the room. 
“Meleth? What is it?” 
 
Galadriel composed herself as much as she could, which, she had 
to admit, was woefully little. “It’s Elrond.” 
 
“Gods, what’s happened to him?” 
 
“I don’t know. He called out to me a little while ago. There were no 
words, I could tell he wasn’t strong enough for words. It lasted only 
an instant, but such pain…I hope that I shall never have to feel as 
he did. And then the connection died. I haven’t been able to get 
back in touch with him, as hard as I try. And you can farspeak even 
through unconsciousness. Elrond has to be dead.” 
 
Celeborn was astounded. Elrond had shown every sign of being a 
famous elf that, for once, would live to a ripe old age. Most of the 
other heroes he had known had died relatively young, in battle. 
Now it appeared that Elrond had joined their number. Celeborn 
wondered if Imladris could still beat back this insurrection without 
Elrond. It would certainly be a lot harder. And who would rule 
Imladris afterwards? Elladan was very young, much younger than 
Elrond had been. And the thought of Glorfindel taking power 
repulsed him. *Dammit, Elrond, why did you have to go and die?* 
Out loud, he said, “What are we going to do?” 
 
“I don’t know,” said Galadriel. She didn’t say that very often, and 
when she said it, she really had no idea at all. 
 
“We can’t let Glorfindel take over.” 
 
“Elladan is too young to rule.” 
 
“What if Elladan and Elrohir rule jointly?” 
 
“Elrohir is probably dead.” 
 
“Then what if Haldir watches over Elladan?” 
 
“Imladris will accuse us of trying to take over.” 
 
“Well we need to find someone.” Celeborn paused. “It’s times like 
this that I wish that Erestor hadn’t died. He could have watched 
over Elladan.” 
 
Galadriel smiled sadly. “Elrond wouldn’t be dead if Erestor was 
alive. We both know that Erestor would have sacrificed himself for 
Elrond.” 
 
“Yes, I know.” 
 
“Imladris is going to fall apart without Elrond.” 
 
A very sad smile. “I know that, too.” 
 
***** 
 
Glorfindel saw Elladan sobbing and raced over. “What’s wrong?” he 
asked. 
 
“My father…he’s dead…” 
 
“What?” Glorfindel felt a wave of shock pass over him. “How…how 
do you know?” 
 
“I saw him.” Elladan collapsed down onto the ground, rocking 
slightly back and forth. “I saw him, he’s dead, he’s dead.” 
 
“Shh,” said Glorfindel, dropping down to the ground gracefully to 
pull Elladan into his arms. “Shh.” He was having to try very hard, 
though, not to cry himself. What he wanted was to go and see the 
elf Elladan was talking about. He wanted to see that it somehow 
was not Elrond, that Elrond was still out there and that he was not 
dead. “But I need to see him.” 
 
Elladan rose unsteadily back up. Glorfindel wrapped a paternal arm 
around Elladan. They began to walk. Elladan seemed to know 
exactly where he was going, and when he reached the spot, he 
dropped down to his knees. “Father,” he cried softly. “Father.” 
 
Glorfindel started to lose control. He went to the ground, too, 
running his hand through Elrond’s hair, over Elrond’s cheek, 
swallowing back the sobs that he knew were going to come soon. 
“Elrond, meleth,” he murmured. “You can’t be dead. You promised 
me.” 
 
Elladan took Glorfindel’s hand. “Why, can you tell me that? Why did 
he deserve to die?” 
 
“No one deserves to die, Elladan. No one.” 
 
Elladan nodded. “Is there…nothing we can do?” 
 
“I think he’s too far gone, Elladan. If we wanted…someone could try 
bonding with him. That might bring him back, though I wouldn’t hold 
out any hope.” 
 
“You have to try, Glorfindel. You have to. I don’t care if it’s too late, 
you have to try.” 
 
Glorfindel closed his eyes. *Don’t you know, Elladan, that if I try and 
fail, I will be dragged along with Elrond to the Halls of Waiting? I 
have been there once already and I have no desire to go back. If it 
is too late, I am killing myself pointlessly.* Out loud, he said, “If you 
would really like me to try, I will.” 
 
“Yes, I would.” 
 
“Then we must get the two of us somewhere we can be alone. This 
could take a while.” *But what about fighting? Elrond and I were the 
best ones out there. What will happen without both of us?* 
“Elladan, I need you to take control of our army. Don’t tell them 
what happened to your father. Not until we have everything figured 
out.” 
 
Elladan knew that he had to be in control now. He had to restrain 
himself and act like nothing was wrong. He had seen his father 
pretend that everything was fine before, and he had been good at 
it. Elladan was Elrond’s son, and he assumed that it just took a little 
getting used to. “Okay. Why don’t you go to your rooms? I’ll check 
up on you two before I go to bed.” 
 
Glorfindel nodded, then lifted Elrond’s surprisingly light body into 
his arms. With tears threatening to leave his eyes the entire trip, he 
finally made it to Elrond’s rooms unnoticed. He lay Elrond down on 
the bed, wishing that he didn’t have to take this step. It was so 
unlikely to work that there was almost no point trying. But he loved 
Elrond, and he would do anything for Elrond. So he took out his 
dagger, sliced a line down his palm, barely feeling the pain. He took 
Elrond’s cold hand in his and repeated the action. Then he lay 
down on the bed, their hands clasped. 
 
The last thing Glorfindel felt was a wave of icy coldness rushing 
over his body. 
 
***** 
 
Elladan sensed that everything was descending into chaos. The 
battle had ended, but it seemed that, in his father’s absence, 
everyone was coming to him and asking him to deal with their 
problems. Elladan couldn’t help but wonder if his father actually 
dealt with all of this, or just came up with some really good excuse 
to get everyone to go away. The only thing was that he knew of no 
such tricks. 
 
“Are you okay?” asked the already-familiar voice from behind. 
 
“No,” said Elladan, almost breaking down but forcing himself not to. 
 
Dùlith nodded, then raised his voice and said, “Everyone, out of 
here now.” Elladan was surprised by how authoritative Dùlith 
sounded. It was the tone of voice of an elf who was listened to and 
expected to be obeyed. It was surprisingly like Elrond’s. Once 
everyone had left the immediate area, Dùlith put a protective arm 
around Elladan and led him to a bench to sit down. “What’s 
wrong?” 
 
“My father’s dead.” 
 
“Lord Elrond is dead?” 
 
“Yes…Glorfindel is trying…to bond with him and bring him 
back…but I don’t think it will work…and I don’t want my father to 
die…Dùlith, I don’t want to have to be in charge.” 
 
Dùlith folded his arms around the younger elf and held him while he 
sobbed. “Glorfindel is a very powerful elf. If there is anyone that can 
bring your father back, it will be him.” 
 
“And if he doesn’t?” 
 
“Then you will be the Lord of Imladris.” 
 
“Will you stay here with me?” 
 
“If Lord Glorfindel does not succeed? If you would like. It has been 
a long time since I have held any kind of position of power, 
though…” 
 
“Those elves were listening to you.” 
 
“They are leaderless and afraid, Elladan. They need someone to be 
strong for them. I can’t be that figure. I am a nobody. You are Lord 
Elrond’s son. You must do what I cannot. I will help you as much as 
I can, but you must become the Lord.” 
 
***** 
 
Haldir knew something was wrong. He just wasn’t sure what it was. 
He hadn’t seen Elrond or Glorfindel. Fortunately, he had not seen 
their bodies, either, and for that, he was grateful. He didn’t know 
what Imladris would do if Elrond was killed. 
 
“Haldir,” said Elladan. 
 
Haldir turned and saw a very obviously distressed Elladan. The 
worst kind of thoughts entered his mind. “What is it?” 
 
“It’s my father.” Elladan was surprised how much of his composure 
he had regained over the past few hours. It was amazing. “He’s 
dying. Glorfindel is trying…to bond with him…” 
 
“What?” exclaimed Haldir. 
 
“Do you have a problem with that?” asked Elladan curiously. He 
had always known there had been a good deal of fighting between 
Haldir and Elrond, though neither had ever told him exactly why. 
 
“No. I’m just surprised.” Haldir didn’t want to drag Elladan into this 
ancient fight. Erestor wasn’t even around anymore. “Where are 
they?” 
 
“In my father’s room. I was going to visit them now. I wanted to 
know if you wanted to come with me.” 
 
“Yes, I would.” 
 
Haldir followed Elladan through the halls. Elladan paused outside 
the doors. He didn’t know whether he wanted to go in or not. He 
knew it would be quite realistic to believe that both of them were 
dead; that Glorfindel had followed Elrond into the Halls of Waiting. 
 
Haldir put his hand on Elladan’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Elladan. 
Whatever happens, it will be okay. You have to believe that.” 
 
Elladan nodded shakily and pushed the door open. He saw both 
figures prone on the bed, their hands clasped. He walked closer 
and saw that Glorfindel’s chest was still rising and falling regularly. 
With a sigh, he noted that his father’s was not. His father was still 
not breathing. He felt himself sob once, and then Haldir hugged 
him. “Haldir, I really thought…” 
 
“It isn’t over yet, Elladan. It won’t be over until both of them are 
alive or both of them are dead. Lord Glorfindel is still fighting. And 
he won’t give up easily.” 
 
Elladan nodded again. “You’re right.” He walked over to the bed 
and touched Glorfindel’s cheek. It was so cold. “He’s so cold,” said 
Elladan. 
 
“He’s battling Mandos. He’s trying to win back Elrond. I guess that 
means Glorfindel really does love Elrond.” 
 
“He always has.” 
 
Haldir chuckled. “As long as you’ve been alive, yes. But not before 
that.” 
 
Elladan frowned. “What do you mean?” He thought back to what he 
had heard this morning, an eternity ago. “Does it have anything to 
do with…Erestor?” He watched with some interest as a shocked 
expression appeared on Haldir’s face. 
 
“Where did you hear about Erestor?” 
 
“I heard someone talk about him.” 
 
“Well, he is long dead, and there is no need to bring up the past. 
Come, Elladan. We should leave your father alone.” 
 
“Haldir, tell me.” 
 
“Tell you what?” 
 
“Who was Erestor?” 
 
“Just an elf.” 
 
***** 
 
Elrohir knew something had gone horribly wrong when he saw the 
huge smile on Belegtur’s face. He was almost afraid to ask. But he 
had to know. So he walked over and asked, “What happened?” 
 
“Your father is dead. I killed him myself.” 
 
Elrohir managed to contain his emotions only for an instant. Then 
he physically crumpled. “Why? Why? Tell me why,” he sobbed. 
 
Belegtur pulled him up roughly. “Calm down, princeling. Your father 
was a weak man. He used to be strong, he used to be a hero. No 
one will deny that. But he became an evil one when he became the 
Lord of Imladris. He deserved to die. Now you, you would make a 
much better Lord, wouldn’t you?” 
 
“What are you saying?” 
 
“I still intend to kill your brother. But…I could put you in as Lord of 
Imladris safely. You would do what I said, wouldn’t you?” 
 
“You killed my father!” 
 
“Yes, I did. But I told you why I had to. And I know that if it had 
been some other man, not your father, then I think that you would 
agree with me.” 
 
“But he *was* my father!” 
 
“Think about it, princeling. I can make you anything you want to be. 
And I don’t ask all that much in return. This could be a great thing 
for you.” 
 
Elrohir bowed his head. “He was my father.” 
 
***** 
 
Elladan stumbled into the tent and found Dùlith there, a concerned 
expression on his face. “Come here,” said Dùlith. 
 
Elladan walked over and fell nearly on top of Dùlith. 
 
Dùlith smiled and pushed Elladan slightly off him. “Did you talk to 
Haldir of Lorien?” 
 
“Yes.” 
 
“And how are Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel doing?” 
 
“The same as before.” 
 
Dùlith arranged himself comfortably on his back and pulled Elladan 
over, so that Elladan’s head was resting on Dùlith’s chest. Elladan 
snuggled up to Dùlith, who placed a fatherly kiss on the top of 
Elladan’s head. “You have to take it one day at a time,” he said. 
 
“Nothing will ever be the same.” 
 
“You’re right. It won’t. But you have to focus on the here and now. 
You have to defeat these rebels and get your brother back. Then 
you can worry about running Imladris.” 
 
Elladan closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was clear to him, from 
the way that Dùlith’s breathing had not settled into a natural rhythm, 
that Dùlith was not sleeping, either. “You knew my father, didn’t 
you?” 
 
“Only inasmuch as we were at the same battle.” 
 
“Now you’re lying to me. You know my father better than that.” 
Elladan attempted to sit up, but Dùlith’s arm around his waist 
prevented that. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything about what 
happened before I was born? Haldir wouldn’t, either, and Glorfindel 
and Father just change the topic. I want to know what happened.” 
 
“No, you don’t. You would hate your father and Lord Glorfindel and 
probably Haldir as well by the end of the story.” 
 
“I can deal with it. Tell me.” 
 
“Maybe later. Go to sleep now.” Another gentle kiss. 
 
“You’ll make everything better, right?” 
 
Dùlith smiled. “I can try.” 
 
***** 
 
Haldir was sitting in Elrond’s room. He had to be there if and when 
Elrond and Glorfindel woke up. They were two of the few people 
that really understood him, no matter how much hatred there was 
between them. He was drifting off to sleep when he heard a moan 
issued from one of the two. Haldir’s eyes shot open and he looked 
over to the two figures on the bed. He saw Elrond’s chest rise once, 
hesitantly, and then slowly fall. Haldir held his breath until he saw 
the motion repeated. Over the next few minutes, Elrond’s breathing 
slowly became more regular, though Glorfindel’s became shallower 
and erratic. And then Glorfindel’s breathing stopped. Haldir rose to 
his feet. This didn’t look all that normal to him. 
 
Elrond moaned. His eyes flickered open then closed again. 
Glorfindel’s breathing did not resume. Elrond’s hands began to 
twitch convulsively. Glorfindel showed no signs of life. Elrond fell 
silent again, and his breathing remained steady, constant. Haldir 
sat back down. Now he was certain that something had gone really 
wrong with this process. 
 
“Elrond?” asked Haldir softly. There was no response. Haldir knew 
he couldn’t stay up here all night, that he would have to get some 
sleep at some point. But he didn’t want to leave, he wanted to know 
what was going to happen. 
 
A gentle knock on the door. 
 
“Come in,” called Haldir. 
 
It was Elladan. He looked tired and upset, both of which were to be 
expected. His eyes immediately flickered to the bed and he saw his 
father breathing. And then saw that Glorfindel was not. 
“Wait…aren’t they both supposed to live or both to die?” 
 
“In every case I’ve heard of.” 
 
“So why does it look like my father is better and Glorfindel is dead?” 
 
“I couldn’t tell you, Elladan.” 
 
Elladan nodded. “Do you know how much longer it’s going to be?” 
 
“Well, your father regained consciousness for a couple of seconds, 
but that might have meant nothing. There’s no way to tell about this 
kind of thing. I think that your father will survive, though.” 
 
“But not Glorfindel?” 
 
“I don’t know. It doesn’t look good for him right now.” 
 
“You should go to bed, Haldir. You…you are fighting tomorrow, 
right?” Elladan was horrified of him being the only one to fight 
tomorrow; without (obviously) his father and Glorfindel, Haldir would 
be a necessity. 
 
“I think so, Elladan. But you should go back to your rooms and try 
to sleep as well. You need the sleep more than I do.” 
 
“Okay. I think I’ll do that.” But Elladan had no intentions of going to 
his rooms. He was going to find Dùlith. He somehow doubted that 
Dùlith would be persuaded to come to his rooms. He had snuck out 
of Dùlith’s tent about an hour ago, and was fairly sure that he could 
get back in without Dùlith ever noticing he was gone. 
 
He was sorely mistaken. Dùlith was sitting up in the tent as Elladan 
walked back in. “Where were you?” 
 
Elladan was tired and not in the mood. “Who are you? My father?” 
 
“Try not to act like a whiny human teenager. You are, right now, the 
Lord of Imladris. At least pretend to act like it. So, where were 
you?” 
 
“If I’m the Lord,” said Elladan in a lofty voice, “I’m afraid that it’s 
none of your business.” 
 
“You were with your father, weren’t you?” 
 
Elladan looked away. 
 
Dùlith rose to his feet, or as much as he could in the tent. He put 
his arms around  Elladan and pulled him down. He rocked Elladan 
as he sobbed, much like a parent would. “It’s okay to be upset. It’s 
okay to want to go to see him. But if you are to be in charge of the 
battle tomorrow, I am afraid that you do need some sleep.” 
 
“There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep.” 
 
“Then lie down and relax.” Dùlith lay down, made himself 
comfortable, and then pulled Elladan next to him. “Let me get some 
sleep, at least.” 
 
Elladan leaned over and kissed Dùlith. 
 
Dùlith smiled. “I’m too old for you,” he said. 
 
“Elves are immortal, you know. Age doesn’t matter at all.” 
 
“You’re young enough to be my son.” 
 
“So are many elves, if you really think about it.” 
 
Dùlith swatted him playfully. “Are you calling me old?” 
 
“Maybe.” He kissed Dùlith again, but Dùlith pushed him away. 
 
“Don’t. Just go to sleep.” 
 
Reluctantly, Elladan did as he was told. 
 
***** 
 
Legolas was milling around Belegtur’s camp.  He had not yet seen 
Elrohir, which worried him. Had Elrohir been killed already? Legolas 
sincerely hoped not. Fortunately, he had not had to go out and fight 
yet, and had faced no chance of death yet, though he had heard 
about how bad it was. 
 
But obviously something had gone right for these rebels, as the 
atmosphere seemed just like that of a celebration. This knowledge 
made his stomach turn, because only one thing would bring on 
such happiness: Elrond or one of Elrond’s kin dying. Legolas knew 
all of them and would be deeply affected by any of their death. 
Especially if it was Elrond. Legolas didn’t know if Imladris would 
survive Elrond’s death. 
 
To one passing elf, he asked, “What happened?” 
 
“Elrond has been killed!” 
 
Legolas forced a smile. “That’s wonderful news.” 
 
“Too right it is.” The elf wandered off, leaving Legolas to his dark 
thoughts. 
 
Legolas couldn’t believe that Elrond would allow himself to be killed 
by one of these scum.  They were terribly trained and should crush 
themselves against Elrond’s force. Maybe Elrond had tried to play 
the hero. That struck Legolas as likely. Or he could have been 
trying to save someone else. That was probably even more likely. 
 
Legolas knew that Imladris would not be able to hold up for long 
under this attack with Elrond gone. That meant that he had to 
destroy this insurrection from the inside. Frankly, he thought that 
that was what his father had planned all along. But now he would 
attempt to do it with renewed vigor. Imladris was counting on him to 
get this done. If he didn’t, Imladris could be a threat to all the Elvish 
realms. It was Legolas’s duty as an elf to protect his fellow elves, 
and he would do that as best as he could. 
 
***** 
 
And so the third day of the battle began. All of the Imladris elves, 
who had not been told yet about Elrond, could nevertheless sense 
that something was wrong by the renewed vigor of the rebels. They 
never saw Elrond or Glorfindel, and that led to all the rumors 
spreading. Most of them were pretty close, but some were 
downright outlandish. Elladan tried to take control (with Dùlith 
whispering instructions into his ear), but he knew that was not 
nearly as effective as his father. 
 
The battle was an apparent stalemate. Imladris could field more 
warriors than the rebels could, but somehow the warriors appeared 
to be better at killing the warriors. Elladan supposed it was that 
Elrond’s warriors had been trained and told over and over again 
never to kill an elf. So they had inhibitions that the rebels didn’t. 
 
“Are we going to win this, Dùlith?” 
 
“I don’t know. Normally, I would say that we would be able to crush 
them without any trouble, but there’s something about these elves. 
They are so driven that every one of them is willing to die to kill us. 
It’s not something that I’m very familiar with, that kind of suicidal 
ambition.” 
 
“Do you think that we are going to win, though?” 
 
“If this drags on long enough, yes, we will win. We have more 
bodies than they do, and that’s what it will come down to if this fight 
goes on for more than a couple more days. But they could wipe us 
out today. It’s completely possible.” 
 
“And what will I do then?” 
 
“You will run. You will change your name and you will hide. These 
rebels will hunt you down, to wherever elvish realm you go. You will 
never be safe again.” 
 
Elladan swallowed hard. That didn’t sound like a pleasant life. “But 
you don’t think that that will happen, do you?” 
 
“It could.” 
 
“Would you come with me?” 
 
“Yes. I don’t think you would be able to survive without my help.” 
 
Elladan was slightly hurt by this, but wasn’t in the mood to fight with 
Dùlith. He didn’t need that right now. 
 
***** 
 
Haldir had not slept. He was dead tired, but knew that he had to 
fight. Elladan would need his guidance.  As he was leaving, 
Elrond’s eyes opened again, for longer this time, and he appeared 
to see Haldir. Haldir even saw a small smile on his face before 
darkness claimed Elrond once more. Glorfindel appeared to be 
dead, though he had a slight pulse. He was still not breathing. The 
only thing that Haldir could think of was that the Valar were keeping 
Glorfindel alive for some reason. 
 
“I’ll be back later,” he said aloud as he left. He had no idea whether 
either elf could hear him, but he didn’t want to just walk out. 
 
When he made his way outside, both forces were milling around in 
a way that amused Haldir immensely.  They could be fighting, but 
instead they were both in sight of each other and acted as though 
nothing at all was happening. Haldir quickly found Elladan, and saw 
also that some dark-haired elf was talking to him. Haldir rode 
quickly over; the last thing that Elladan needed was stupid advice 
from some commoner. 
 
“Morning, Elladan.” 
 
“You look terrible, Haldir. Did you sleep?” 
 
“No. But that’s not important. Who was that elf?” 
 
“Dùlith.” 
 
“Don’t listen to advice from commoners. They don’t have a clue 
what they’re talking about. Trust me, I’ve made that mistake 
already.” 
 
“But he fought at the Last Alliance.” 
 
“Well, a good portion of the elves alive during the time did. That 
doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing. Don’t trust his advice, he 
has never commanded a battle before. I have, and so I know what 
I’m talking about.” 
 
Elladan was surprised by the sudden way Dùlith had disappeared 
when Haldir rode over, but did not have time to dwell on it, as 
suddenly the rebel forces charged. “What should I do?” he asked. 
 
“Don’t meet them. Wait for them to get here.” 
 
Elladan nodded unsteadily, his eyes fixed on the swarm of elves 
rapidly approaching his own swarm. 
 
Everything seemed to slow down and for a few precious moments it 
seemed that the rebel elves would never actually reach the Imladris 
elves. The Imladris archers took out about a quarter of the force 
before it reached the mass of angry elves. But the rebel elves just 
kept on coming, ignoring the elves falling around them. 
 
Haldir could see the fear on Elladan’s face, but knew that he could 
not say anything to comfort him. This was Elladan’s test, and if he 
could not deal with it in a manner befitting the Lord of Imladris, he 
would never be fit to rule Imladris, no matter how wise he grew. If 
he lost this, Imladris would forever view him for that, not for 
anything he might do in the future. Elladan had to do this by 
himself. 
 
“Hold,” said Elladan, more to himself than anyone else. Elladan 
wanted nothing more than to go out and meet the rebels, but both 
Dùlith and Haldir had told him not to. And he trusted both their 
advice, whatever Haldir might say about trusting Dùlith. “Hold.” The 
elves drew closer and closer. Elladan felt the fear really come to the 
surface. He was in command of this battle; if it was lost, he would 
be blamed. 
 
Now the elves were within twenty paces of Elladan. He looked over 
at Haldir, who was wearing a blank, impassive face. Elladan knew 
that Haldir would not help him. This was entirely his own decision. 
*How can everyone be forcing me to grow up?* he asked himself. 
Another part of his brain answered the question: *Because if father 
is dead, then you are the Lord of Imladris. You have to be able to 
do this.* 
 
***** 
 
Dùlith was watching Elladan. He could see the indecision on the 
elf’s face, and knew that if Elladan couldn’t handle this, he would 
have to take control. No matter whether elves like Haldir listened to 
him, someone who knew what they were doing had to command 
these elves. And Haldir, while a good commander, did not know 
Imladris. But Dùlith had faith in Elladan. He was so much like his 
father. 
 
And then the elves were upon them. Dùlith raised his sword and 
began to take out elves left and right. He did not feel good about 
doing so, but it was a matter of survival. And when it came down to 
survival, he would ruthlessly pursue his own best self-interests. He 
cast occasional glances in Elladan’s direction, making sure that he 
was alive and okay. Haldir was doing a decent job of protecting 
him, but Haldir was not infallible. 
 
**** 
 
Elladan knew that it was impossible to tell if he was winning or not. 
Too many of the elves looked the same. But at least the Imladris 
elves hadn’t been completely eradicated. He really did not want to 
have to live the kind of life Dùlith described last night. He didn’t see 
that that would be in any way preferable to winning this battle and 
making sure that his father lived. 
 
He caught Dùlith staring at him more than once. He wasn’t sure of 
the reason why. It could be that Dùlith was just trying to keep an 
eye on him and make sure that he wasn’t killed, or it could have 
something to do with the obviously deepening relationship between 
them. Elladan didn’t want to even think about what his father would 
say about it if his father survived. He could almost imagine the look 
on his father’s face. He could hear his father’s voice in his head: 
‘He’s too old for you, Elladan’, ‘Elladan, you are of noble birth, he is 
but a commoner’, ‘Be reasonable, Elladan’, ‘Absolutely not’. All 
these thoughts managed to bring a smile to his face, and he was 
almost killed because of his daydreaming. Fortunately, Haldir was 
looking out for him, and deflected the killing blow with his sword. 
“Pay attention!” screamed Haldir, shocked at Elladan’s lack of 
responsibility in this most dire of situations. 
 
***** 
 
Elrond awoke in a cold sweat. He gasped briefly for air, wondering 
what had happened to him. The last thing he remembered was that 
elf standing over him, a sword in his hand. And now he was…he 
checked his surroundings, back in his room. Glorfindel was lying 
beside him. 
 
And Glorfindel was not breathing. 
 
Elrond immediately panicked, until he remembered that the 
memory of the elf standing over him was not the last thing that he 
remembered. He closed his eyes as he began to recall his entering 
into the Hall of Waiting. And then a strong force had started to pull 
him back. For a few precious instants, he had thought that he was 
saved, and that someone, like Glorfindel, was trying to bring him 
back. He had called out mentally, and suspected therefore that it 
was Galadriel, using all her strength to keep him from dying. But 
she had failed. 
 
It had been cold and lonely. 
 
Then something had pulled at him again. And this time he was sure 
that it was Glorfindel. He tried to calm down to allow himself to be 
taken away, hopefully without Mandos noticing. But Mandos 
noticed everything. 
 
Then Glorfindel appeared by his side. Elrond closed his eyes in 
disbelief. Had Glorfindel died trying to bring him back? Who would 
rule Imladris? His sons were too young, and there was no one else. 
 Glorfindel put an arm around his shoulders and murmured, “How 
could you be this dumb?” 
 
Elrond smiled. “Getting killed in battle…I never thought I’d die like 
that.” 
 
And then Mandos appeared. “Lord Elrond of Imladris, Lord 
Glorfindel of Gondolin, I was not expecting to see either of you here 
so soon.” 
 
“So let us go back,” said Glorfindel. He had challenged Mandos 
before, and so now felt that he had the right. 
 
Mandos did not feel the same way. “I allowed you to plea your case 
before me once, Lord Glorfindel, do not try again.” 
 
“Then let me,” said Elrond. “There is none to rule Imladris. If 
Imladris falls to these rebels, then all of the elvish realms will 
inevitably soon fall. I cannot allow that to happen…” 
 
“You were the one that allowed yourself to get killed,” pointed out 
Mandos. “And there is one in Imladris that can rule.” 
 
“My sons are too young.” 
 
“Not your sons. Another.” 
 
“Imladris cannot be ruled by a foreigner.” 
 
“He is not a foreigner. But that is immaterial. I shall make a deal 
with the both of you. While I make up my mind about sending both 
of you back, I will allow one of you to go back. The other will stay 
here until I have decided. If I decide to allow only one of you to 
remain permanently, I will take the one who is here temporarily.” 
 
“I will stay,” said Glorfindel immediately. 
 
“Absolutely not!” said Elrond. “I’m the one that got killed. You did 
nothing but try to bring me back…” 
 
“Because I love you!” 
 
“I never questioned that. But I won’t let you suffer for my mistakes.” 
 
“I don’t care. Imladris needs *you*, Elrond, not me. I will stay here 
and suffer Mandos’s judgment. If either of us have to die, let it be 
me. I have lived more than I have deserved. Your family needs you. 
Elladan will not be able to survive losing you…” 
 
“And I will not be able to survive losing you!” 
 
“All of this is very touching,” commented Mandos wryly, "but you 
must make up your mind. As you are now bonded, I will add a little 
something else, hopefully to help you make up your mind. Whoever 
stays here will still be able to communicate to the other via the 
bond.” 
 
“Elrond,” said Glorfindel. “I love you. Please let me do this.” 
 
Elrond closed his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you. I have lost too 
many.” 
 
“I will still be with you. Just let me stay.” 
 
Elrond nodded. “Okay.” 
 
“Is that your decision?” asked Mandos. 
 
“Yes,” said Glorfindel. Elrond nodded his agreement. 
 
And then he woke up in his room, in his bed, lying next to what was 
really no more than a corpse. He was so tired; he felt so weak. So 
he closed his eyes and tried to pretend that this whole mess was 
just a bad dream. 
 
***** 
 
After the day of battle wound up with the rebels retreating once 
again, only they didn’t retreat quite so far this time. Dùlith found 
Elladan, finally away from Haldir. “Can we go see Lord Elrond?” 
 
“You want to go see my father?” 
 
Dùlith nodded. “If I may.” 
 
Elladan nodded. “I don’t see why not. Come on, let’s go.” He was 
certain that there was some connection between Dùlith and his 
father, and wanted desperately to know what it was. So he led 
Dùlith inside and began walking slowly towards his father’s rooms. 
With curiosity, he noticed that as soon as they entered the 
hallways, Dùlith pulled up the hood of his cloak, so that most of his 
face was obscured, as if he did not want to be recognized by 
anyone. He was altogether unsurprised to see Dùlith stride ahead. 
Dùlith had very obviously spent time in Imladris before, whatever he 
said, and probably knew exactly where his father’s rooms were. 
 They came up to a turning, and Elladan knew it was the final test. 
The obvious way to get to his father’s rooms, by turning left, was 
actually the wrong way to go. You had to turn right. Unless you had 
spent a lot of time in Imladris, and specifically with Elrond, you 
would not know that. Without even pausing, Dùlith turned right. 
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you,” said Elladan. 
 
Dùlith did not answer him, just walking at a steady pace until he 
paused outside of Elrond’s rooms. “You go in first,” said Dùlith 
calmly. 
 
Elladan nodded and opened the door. He saw that his father 
appeared to be sleeping, while Glorfindel seemed dead. No one 
else was in the room. He motioned for Dùlith to come in. 
 
Dùlith pushed down the hood of his cloak, smoothed his quite long 
dark hair down into some sort of order, and then walked over to the 
bedside. “Elrond,” he murmured, almost too softly for Elladan to 
hear. Dùlith sat on the side of the bed, took one of Elrond’s hands, 
and pressed a light kiss onto the back of it. “You must be strong, 
Elrond.” He held the hand tightly. 
 
Elladan sensed that this was a personal moment for Dùlith, but did 
not want to leave. He wanted to know exactly how Dùlith knew his 
father, and specifically how well Dùlith had known his father. So he 
didn’t leave, even though he knew that he really should, out of 
respect to all three older elves. 
 
***** 
 
Elrond felt the weight shift on the bed and began to stir. Some 
irrational part of his brain hoped that Mandos had made his 
decision and given Glorfindel back to him. But the movement was 
on the wrong side of the bed. Then he heard a soft voice say his 
name, almost reverently. Someone was holding his hand. 
 
Elrond slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see Haldir or Elladan. 
But instead he saw those beautiful eyes and that silky dark hair he 
still occasionally dreamed about. The face was slightly more lined 
than he remembered, but that was what time did. He closed his 
eyes for a second and then opened them, expecting the face to 
disappear. But it did not. A sad smile appeared on his face. It was 
so ironic, right after he was bonded to an elf that he did not really 
love, that he had to show up. 
 
In that same loving voice, he said, “Elrond.” 
 
Elrond almost couldn’t find the words. He didn’t know what to say at 
all. In the end, he settled for a simple name. “Erestor.” 
 
Author's note: 
 
Please don't be angry with me about the way I brought Elrond back 
from the dead. I accidentally killed him and then had to try to find 
some way to bring him back. My only defense: this is AU and non-
canon, so I can kinda mess with Tolkien's world if i really think i 
have good cause. And i think that counts as good cause.