Title: Legolas’ Gift
Author: Estel Baggins
Author’s Email: macfal1219@comcast.net
Chapters: 60 through 63
Rating: NC-17, baby, earning that rating this time around
Pairings: Elladan/Elrohir, Glorfindel/Aragorn (remembered), Aragorn/Legolas 
(remembered), Elladan/Glorfindel, Frodo/Sam
Warnings: character death (original characters), rape (explicit)

Book III
Chapter Sixty
      Cein scooped up her wriggling, littlest brother. “Where do you think you’re 
going?” she demanded, tickling him.
      “To see Papa. He and Daddy are back, aren’t they? That’s what Grandma said.”
      “Yes, he’s back, but he still has to skin and clean whatever he caught. You can’t 
be in his way, Mordecai.” She carried him towards his parents’ tent, wondering where 
Aidan was. This was more his job than hers when their parents were gone. He was still in 
his teens, and hadn’t passed his test to reach adulthood yet. Thus, he was supposed to 
keep an eye on his little brother because he was more often at the tent than she.
      ‘And I may have my own family soon,’ she thought, and her mind wandered to 
Raven, Jamien’s youngest son, who had asked her parents for her hand in marriage only a 
few days ago. She was a handsome woman, and strong, nearly thirty years of age. She 
knew she was getting married late in life, but that didn’t bother her. True, either she or 
one of her four siblings needed to produce an heir to follow in their father’s footsteps, 
‘but Grandpa Malacai doesn’t even seem old yet. Surely we have time.’
      Shaking her head, she added, ‘And it’s a good thing, because Adalai won’t settle 
down for another score of years, unless I miss my guess.’
      She poked her head into her parents’ tent, and saw Aidan teaching Morwen how 
to sew. Both of them glanced up when she came in. “How did this little pest get away?” 
she asked, setting Mordecai down.
      Aidan glared at his baby brother. “What were you doing out of the tent? I thought 
you were with Adalai. You know you’re supposed to ask me before you go anywhere.”
      Mordecai didn’t hear the disapproving tone. He was bouncing from one foot to 
the other in his childish excitement. “Daddy and Papa are back!”
      Morwen started to get up.
      “No, we’re not done with this row of stitches. You can’t just leave them,” Aidan 
said sternly. “If you go now, the thread will pull out, and you’ll have to start all over 
again.”
      She pouted, but sat back down and took up her needle again. “Ceinie, can I go see 
them when I’m done with my sewing?” she asked sweetly, beaming her eight year old 
smile at her big sister.
      “They’ll probably come here after reporting to Grandpa,” Cein answered. “But if 
they don’t come, and you’ve done all your chores, you can go.” She looked at Mordecai. 
“And if you stay out of trouble and help your big brother and sister, you can go, too.” She 
winked at Aidan, and he unbent sufficiently to return it.
      ‘He’s too serious,’ she thought. ‘More like Grandpa Malacai than either of our 
parents. Maybe he’ll end up being second instead of Adalai.’ Then she chided herself for 
even thinking the thought. ‘My twin will settle down… eventually. He’ll have to.’
      She slipped back out of the tent and went to see how the evening meal was 
coming along. As her grandmother’s eldest granddaughter, it was her task to help oversee 
the meals at the central fire. Just as she reached the fire, though, she spotted Raven 
sharpening his knives in the fading summer light. The sun was just setting off the west. 
She grinned, deciding her duties could wait a few minutes.
***
      Malacai surveyed the substantial kill his son and foster son had brought home. 
“You’ve done well. This will see us through for a week or more.”
      “Not the way Raven and some of the others eat,” Saru answered, grinning.
      Malacai smiled. “Well, he’ll have to restrain himself, won’t he?” He shook his 
head. “You were only gone for two days. This is astounding.”
      Kehydi shook his head. “You shouldn’t have taught us to be such good hunters.”
      Malacai smiled. “After you’ve tended to all this, I need to speak with you. Come 
to my tent when the evening meal is over.”
      “Is anything wrong?” Saru asked at once.
      “Nothing definite. There have been rumors of increased man activity at the 
Shire’s borders.”
      “What sort of men?” Kehydi asked.
      “You’ll hear the full account after dinner.” Malacai walked away.
      Kehydi looked down at the meat the two of them had brought back to camp. 
“We’d better get started.”
      Saru caught his arm. “Kehydi…”
      His husband turned and hugged Saru against him. “Don’t worry, Saru. I’m sure 
everything’s fine.”
      Saru smiled slightly. “Thank you for the reassurance, love, but I just wanted to 
tell you that I had another vision last night.”
      Kehydi frowned and pulled back a little so he could study Saru’s face. “What did 
you see?”
      Saru shook his head. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell Malacai tonight or wait.”
      Kehydi’s frown deepened as he thought. “It depends on how serious the rumors 
about the Shire are, and how important the vision was.” He gave Saru an extra squeeze, 
then turned to shoulder his pack of meat.
      Saru lifted his own burden. He was smiling. “It is not of great importance, except 
that it will make him happy.”
      Kehydi glanced at him as they started to walk. “Did you see Aragorn?”
      Saru grinned. “You know me too well, my love.”
      “Let’s hurry up and take care of our kill so I can hear all about it.”
***
      Malacai listened to Saru’s news, and though his visage seemed less forbidding as 
hope ignited in his eyes, he shook his head when Saru asked if he wanted to hear the 
vision. “It will have to wait. Kehydi, you and I will lead a dozen Dunedain to the Shire 
and help reinforce the others that are already there. We will leave at first light.” He 
smiled sadly at their stunned expressions. “These are only rumors I’ve heard, but I am 
filled with misgivings. Danger is knocking at our back door, and evil has entered through 
the window. I have seen it growing about us, though it has not entered the camp, overtly 
or otherwise.” He turned to Saru. “That’s why I want you to stay here, Saru. You stand 
against the Shadow much as Elendil once did- with a clear mind and a ready 
counterattack. You will guard the camp while we are gone.”
      Saru bowed his head, accepting his duty. “Yes, Father.”
      “Feel free to bring Adalai if you wish,” Malacai said to Kehydi. “I think he’s 
ready for this.” He saw the fear in Saru’s eyes, and touched his arm. “Saru, we will all 
guard him.”
      “I know.” Saru forced a weak smile. “Our life is one of peril. And my son is a 
man now. I still can’t help worrying.”
      Kehydi squeezed his husband’s hand. “I’ll look after him. I promise.”    
      “Aye, I know it.” To Malacai, he asked, “What healer will you take with you?”
      “I will take Aaron. He has treated hobbits before. It probably won’t be necessary 
to help any of the Little People- I hope it isn’t, anyway- but it pays to be cautious.” He 
paused for a moment, considering. “I have time to hear this vision, Saru. Tell me.”
      Saru felt an urge to talk more about the dangerous road ahead for his husband and 
son, but he swallowed his fears, knowing that he would have a chance, later, to find 
comfort with Kehydi. He also knew that Malacai needed to hear this. “I saw a forest dark 
with oppressive shadows and shrouded in a clinging mist. A trail, pale in the moonlight, 
cut through the trees. On the trail was a stooped, shuffling, dangerous creature that 
looked thin as a dying birch. The creature was bound, and shot hateful glances back at its 
captor even as it pretended to be servile and afraid. Behind the creature, holding the rope 
that confined it- that prevented it from killing is my thought- walked a tall figure. I 
couldn’t see his face at first. His steps were slow, for the creature hindered him, but he 
held his head high.”
      Saru smiled. “Then the two travelers stepped out of the shadows of a huge tree, 
and I saw the weathered, determined face of our Chief, of Aragorn.”
      Malacai drew his breath in sharply.
      “His eyes flashed in the night as he sought to look in every direction. Alertness 
was clear in every move he made. He seemed untroubled by the forest, only cautious. 
And something else weighed on him, though I don’t know what. He looked up at the 
moon, and the sight troubled him.” Saru stopped. “The vision becomes confused after 
that, and I think it became merely a dream.”
      Kehydi whispered, “Was he in Mirkwood?”
      “That’s what it sounds like,” Malacai answered, and his voice was hushed with 
reverence and awe. “Our strength still lives.” Then he roused him and smiled at Saru. 
“Thank you.”
      Saru blushed. Kehydi hugged him.
      “Are you going to appoint the other Dunedain to the patrol?” Kehydi asked.
      “Yes. Get ready, then try to catch a little sleep.” 
***
      Their five children nearly pounced on them when Saru and Kehydi entered their 
tent after Saru checked with Aaron to make sure he had all the extra herbs he needed for 
the journey. Aaron had taken over Cristan’s historian title, but he hadn’t taken Saru’s 
healer title. Instead, he had learned all he could from Saru, who had, in turn, leaned 
everything he knew from Mordecai. Aaron’s skills should be enough for the journey.
      When they entered the tent, only Adalai, Cein and Aidan restrained themselves. 
They still crowded close as the two youngest ones clamored to be picked up.
      Saru cradled Mordecai in his arms, and smiled when his son yawned. “You 
should already be in bed.”
      “Wanted to see you,” Mordecai protested sleepily.
      Kehydi had just set down Morwen and he took Mordecai from Saru, hugging him. 
“We have news for you. I’ll be leaving in the morning with your grandfather to reinforce 
the guard around the Shire. Your Papa will be staying here to help protect the camp.”
      “But you just got back!” Morwen complained loudly.
      “Aye, sweeting,” Saru murmured, picking her up. “And he’ll be back. But some 
day he will be second-in-command and-”
      “And he has responsibilities,” she grumbled. “I know, I know.”
      “Can I go?” Aidan asked.
      “Can I go?” Mordecai echoed.
      Kehydi raised an eyebrow. “You have to be an adult to go, Aidan. And mature as 
you are, you haven’t passed the tests yet.” He turned to Adalai. “I want you to come. It’s 
time you saw something more than this camp.”
      Adalai grinned. “Okay. I’ll go pack.” He ducked into the back part of the tent.
      Mordecai looked up at his father, his lip trembling. Kehydi picked him up. 
“You’ll be all right for a little while without me,” he murmured. “I need you to be strong 
while I’m gone.”
      “I’m tired of being strong. I want you to stay home!” Mordecai burst into tears.
      Morwen had been fussing in Saru’s arms all this while, and now she allowed a 
few tears to trickle down her cheeks. Saru retreated to the pallet he and Kehydi shared 
and sat on its edge, rocking his daughter slightly and singing to her.
      Aidan and Cein left the tent.
      “Will they come back?” Aidan asked as the two of them stood, side by side, 
looking up at the stars.
      Cein moved a little closer to her younger brother and took his hand, squeezing it. 
She knew he was thinking of Nickoleh and Cristan, who had gone on patrol and had been 
found by scouts a week later with their throats torn out. “Dad and Grandpa are good 
fighters. They’ll protect Adalai.”
      “What do you think has happened in the Shire?”
      “I don’t know. But it must not be very serious, or most of the men would be 
leaving.”
      “Maybe they are. Maybe Papa is acting as second over just the women and the 
children.” He made a face.
      “No, Grandma is always left in charge when her husband and son are gone. That 
is her right as Grandpa Malacai’s wife. And I don’t think all the men are leaving. Dad 
didn’t sound very worried.”
      “Sometimes I wish we lived in a village like most men. It would be safer.”
      She shook her head and turned so she could make him look at her. “The villages 
wouldn’t be safe if it wasn’t for us.”
      “I know.” He moved a little closer to her. “I don’t want to be afraid, but I can’t 
seem to help it.”
      Cein put her arm around his shoulders. “Don’t you know what courage is, Aidan? 
It’s fear that has said its prayers.”
***
      Aragorn’s senses were strained nearly to their breaking point as he prowled the 
very edge of Mordor. His sight was taken up with all directions- behind, before, left, 
right, above and below. He relied so much on his hearing that there was almost a high, 
mind-created whine in his ears. His skin crawled with the feeling of what passed in 
Mordor for air. His tongue had shriveled with thirst, and his nose- Aii, but his nose was 
most important.
      ‘He smells like a thing that has gone swimming in a bog, then died on the shore, 
yet still walks,’ Gandalf had told him. ‘His name is Gollum, and he must be found. I need 
to know for sure if what is hidden in the Shire is the One Ring.’
      Gandalf’s words, though almost a year had gone by, hadn’t faded in Aragorn’s 
mind. He clung to them like the weapon they were. Aragorn had never seen the creature 
Gollum himself and needed every bit of information he could get.
      ‘Though now I am following a trail that is months old,’ he thought. ‘Gandalf has 
turned back for the Shire, and perhaps I will do one more circuit of Mordor, venture in a 
short way, then turn back myself.’
      Abruptly, he stopped walking. The ground beneath his feet, though he could see 
no change, felt different. He bent and touched it tentatively with one half-gloved hand. 
The sponginess of the earth told him that something had bled here. And something else 
had eaten here, as well, he noted when he saw the sliver of bone in the earth. These 
remains were fresh, only a few hours old. Aragorn bent forward and inhaled. He 
grimaced at the stench. It wasn’t orc-blood, which was rank, but which he had become, 
over the long years, accustomed to. The blood reeked of dead fish and something foul 
that had decayed in water.
      ‘I have found him! And this is so fresh- surely he is no more than a mile from 
here.’
      Still, Aragorn paused. He considered the sliver of bone, and decided that perhaps 
it had belonged to a mouse. ‘No mice live in Mordor. Nothing lives here but orcs. Where 
did this creature get a mouse?’ But it was a question he would answer when he caught his 
elusive prey. Aragorn stood and broke from the old trail, following the new. It led north 
and west.
***
      Aragorn collared the creature Gollum and bound his hands. “I don’t want to do 
this,” he told the struggling thing, “but I can’t let you escape. I’m taking you to a place 
where they’ll treat you fairly and with mercy.”
      Gollum snaked his head around, bit Aragorn on the hand with enough force to 
puncture the skin in six places, and refused to let go.
      Aragorn longed to shake the thing off, but, mindful of Gandalf’s order that the 
creature not be harmed, used his free hand, the one with an almost-whole, sturdy leather 
glove on it, to pry Gollum’s jaws apart. Then he muzzled the thing, tended his hand and 
started for Mirkwood. 
      ‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘they’ll treat you with fairness and mercy, surely more than you 
deserve.’
***
      ‘I think it would be easier to forget the Dunedain… and Aragorn… if I didn’t 
keep dreaming about them.’
      Sighing, Legolas scaled the ancient cedar. He climbed to the height of fifty men 
and made himself comfortable on a branch he had come to think of as his own. No other 
elves sat in this tree, as far as he had seen. Whether that was because they liked other 
trees better or because the cedar was seen as “Prince Legolas’ tree”, the blond didn’t 
know. Such things as owning trees wasn’t unusual in Mirkwood. Legolas found that he 
had moved from a society where everything was shared to one where everyone had their 
own personal property, even their own flowers, riverbanks and trees. This new system 
had been completely confusing to Legolas until he decided to think of it as resembling 
Gondor. Once he ascribed that mentality to the elves around him, everything fell into 
place.
      ‘Now that I understand them, I find myself falling into their beliefs. I do think of 
this cedar as my tree, even though the Dunedain never had such foolish beliefs.’ Legolas 
drew his knees up and gazed out over Mirkwood’s treetops. He almost always found 
himself looking North, no matter how much time had passed.
      “I think I will always miss them,” he whispered and hugged his knees harder.
      The night before, he had dreamed of the official breaking of his bond with Saru.
///Flashback///
      The two of them stood, hand in hand, before Aragorn and the Dunedain in a scene 
almost exactly like their forced wedding. There were only two changes this time. The 
first was a feeling of complete and utter rightness. He and Saru weren’t being driven into 
anything this time. The other difference was that Saru had fashioned a sling for his side, 
and Cein and Adalai were asleep therein.
      Aragorn smiled at Legolas and Saru. “Hear me, Dunedain.”
      “We hear,” his people intoned.
      “I forced Legolas and Saru into a marriage that was never any of their making. 
Now I will fix that mistake so they can go their own ways.” Aragorn looked to Saru. 
“Saru, do you wish to be released from your forced marriage?”
      “Yes, Aragorn.”
      “Do you hold any enmity towards Legolas?”
      “Never!” Saru blushed. “I mean, no.”
      Aragorn smiled his understanding. “Legolas, do you wish to be released from 
your forced marriage?”
      “Yes, Aragorn.”
      “Do you hold any enmity towards Saru?”
      “No.”
      “Dunedain, hear me.”
      “We hear, Aragorn.”
      “Legolas and Saru are now free to go their separate ways.”
      “We hear.”
      Legolas and Saru still stood with their hands joined. Aragorn grasped each of their 
hands and separated them. “You are free to love and live in whatever manner you wish.”
///End Flashback///
      ‘I miss you, Aragorn. If I could only see you… know you are still alive…’ 
Crystalline tears slipped down his cheeks and Legolas laid his forehead on his knees. His 
hair slid forward and hid his face in a gold and shimmering curtain.
***
      Thranduil met the man directly, not wanting him loitering about the palace walls. 
‘Legolas does not need a reminder of his past, not when he has so recently begun to 
understand what is expected of him here. And certain not when he has just started to 
enjoy his life with us. I never thought it would take him so long to feel comfortable here. 
And it was not the torture he suffered as a slave that held him back, but the love for the 
Dunedain that hurt him so badly. No; he needs no reminder of that life.’
      “Let me see if I understand you correctly, Dunadan. You want us to take care of 
Gollum for Mithrandir until he can come to speak with the foul creature.”
      Aragorn bowed. “That is so, King Thranduil. Mithrandir and I have been 
searching for him for several years. Recently, Mithrandir was called away to tend to other 
matters. He asks you, with all respect and reverence, to mind Gollum until such time as 
Mithrandir can come and speak with him. He believes that Gollum may yet be saved, and 
begs you to treat him with all gentleness even as you guard him.”
      Thranduil frowned. “We are not cruel, Dunadan. Why does Mithrandir think it 
necessary to ask us to be gentle with his prey?”
      “Please understand, my King, that I am not privy to all of Mithrandir’s thoughts 
and motivations. I am only here to deliver Gollum in to your hands and to pass along 
Mithrandir’s wishes. Forgive me if what he says seems impertinent, but he only wants to 
make sure that all avenues for Gollum’s recovery are left open. ‘Tis his way.”
      “Hmmph.” Thranduil sighed. “Very well. I will watch over this creature for 
Mithrandir. Tell him to rest assured that all will be well.”
      Aragorn bowed again. “Thank you, my King.” He hesitated, then asked 
tentatively, “Has Legolas settled well here?”
      “Yes.”
      Seeing that he shouldn’t interfere more, but longing to leave Legolas at least one 
message, Aragorn said, “Will you tell him that the Dunedain wish him all happiness?”
      “Yes.”
      Bowing one final time, Aragorn said, “Then I will be on my way. Thank you for 
your service to Mithrandir… and to me.”
      “You are free to go.”
      Aragorn left. ‘I may be in Mirkwood, but I won’t see Legolas.’ Sighing, 
wondering how his elf.... his lover?... Legolas was doing, Aragorn made his way out of 
the forest. It was time to head north again.
      ‘Perhaps this time I’ll even see one of my Rangers in Bree or Archet.’
Chapter Sixty-One
      Gandalf sang as he guided his cartload of fireworks towards the Shire. Bilbo’s 
birthday- his last one in the Shire if the old hobbit was to be believed- would be 
celebrated at a party of special significance.
      The old wizard gave no sign that he sensed his trackers. ‘It is a Ranger’s job to 
watch the borders of the Shire and keep track of the strangers who pass close by.’ He 
smiled to himself and interrupted his song long enough to puff on his pipe. ‘I wonder if 
he- or she- will decide I’m not a threat and leave, or challenge me. If it was Aragorn, he 
wouldn’t bother to follow. But I shouldn’t think he would be in these parts yet. He is like 
a wolf hot on a trail; he will refuse to rest until all possibilities have been exhausted 
regarding our quarry.’
      “Excuse me, sir, but where might you be heading on this fine day?”
      Gandalf considered the man who had stepped into his road even as he drew rein 
smoothly. ‘An older Dunadan. Black hair. Dark eyes. An expression even the Dunedain 
would consider stern.’ He smiled. “Greetings, Malacai son of Melchelai. You are a long 
way from home.”
      If the Ranger was surprised he didn’t show it. “You seem to have me at a 
disadvantage. What may I call you?”
      “I believe you know perfectly well who I am. May we dispense with the dancing? 
I have places to go.”
      Malacai bowed and stepped aside. “Welcome to the Shire, Gandalf. You have 
been long away.”
      “It has been but nine years.”
      “That is long enough to us.”
      Gandalf frowned. “Will your people shadow me all the way to Bilbo’s very 
door?”
      “Not now that we know it is you. Forgive our caution, but there have been too 
many strange travelers here of late.”
      “I noticed the increased guard.” Gandalf debated with himself for a moment. 
“Join me, Dunadan. We have only a brief time to talk, but counsels must be given and 
taken.”
      In a trice Malacai was on the seat beside him and the wizard flicked the reins. The 
cart moved on.
      “You have not asked me of Aragorn.”
      “I want to know the most pressing information you have to share. I can wait for 
news of our chief.”
      “The danger around the Shire will only increase until the One Ring is removed 
from its place.”
      Malacai’s eyes grew wide, and his hand dropped to his sword. “His… The Dark 
Lord’s Ring… It is here?”
      “It has been here for many years. In the possession of Bilbo Baggins, in fact. He 
doesn’t know it, of course, but it is time that he was informed.”
      Malacai relaxed his grip on his sword-hilt, but only with a distinct effort.
      “My news has brought you understanding,” Gandalf observed, puffing on his pipe 
once again. He cast an oblique glance at the Ranger.
      “Yes… I understand a little of what plagued us until we began to fight it.”
      “The Dark Lord came to you. Aragorn told me everything.”
      Malacai looked at the wizard, and his eyes were hopeful. He couldn’t keep the 
expression of need from his face. “You have seen him recently?”
      “Three months ago. He is well. He sends his best wishes to you.”
      ‘That is no different from what you said the last time we met.’ Malacai tried not 
to be ungrateful, but he wanted so desperately for Gandalf to tell him that Aragorn was 
on his way home.
      Gandalf surely sensed his discontent, for he said, “Aragorn’s hour draws near. He 
will rise above all his ancestors since Elendil or he will plunge into the Darkness with all 
that is left of his people.” He smiled. “And I am rather convinced of the former. Aragorn 
has strength beyond any I have seen in many centuries. And he will never give up.”
      Malacai sighed. “I know. Thank you for your counsel, Gandalf.” He made as if to 
jump down from the cart, but Gandalf caught his sleeve. Malacai looked back in 
confusion.
      “Take heart, Dunadan. Soon, the Ring will leave the Shire. Your people will be 
safer for it.”
      “But what about the rest of Middle-Earth?”
      Gandalf sighed. “There will come a time when it is to be removed. After this 
party, I will ride hard for Gondor to confirm that it is indeed the One Ring.”
      “But you sounded so sure only a moment ago!”
      “I would rather make certain every possibility is ruled out before acting. If it is the 
One Ring, then a hard journey lies ahead for its bearer.”
      “Isn’t Bilbo too old to travel?”
      “He will be leaving the Shire today without the Ring. That, he has promised me, 
will be passed to Frodo.”
      “Do you think he can give it up?”
      “I will help him do so.”
      Malacai was silent for a moment. “If you see Aragorn on your long journey to 
Gondor, please tell him we miss him and that we wish him all that’s good.”
      “I will.”
      Malacai hopped down from the cart and disappeared silently into the underbrush.
      ‘One day, Dunadan, I pray that you will be able to overcome the sorrow that 
shadows your heart.’ Gandalf drove on.
***
      “Will you tell us a story, Grandma?”
      Annaleh kissed the foreheads of her two youngest grandchildren. Saru was 
tending to a virulent case of cough that had spread throughout Nella’s young family like 
wildfire. Aidan was out at the fire with the other teens, practicing, sparring and fooling 
around. Cein was sitting nearby, sewing a beautiful, cranberry-colored tunic for Raven 
when he returned from the Shire borders with the other Dunedain. She was worried about 
him- ‘and I am worried about Malacai and Kehydi’- but was managing her concern well. 
Annaleh’s mother had said once: “A wise woman does what she knows. If it’s fighting, 
she fights. If it’s sewing, she sews.” Cein was doing what she knew, just as Aidan was.
      ‘And as to these young ones… Well, they are doing what they know, too. They 
are seeking comfort.’
      “What story would you like to hear?”
      “Something about Daddy!” Rowena cried.
      “Something about Aragorn!” Mordecai clamored.
      “Daddy!”
      “Aragorn!”
      “Daddy!”
      “Settle down, or neither of you will get a story,” said Cein without looking up 
from her sewing.
      Often, Annaleh wondered if Cein forgot that she wasn’t her siblings’ mother. “I’ll 
tell you a story about both of them. Once, long ago, your daddy wanted to prove that he 
could swim across a dangerous river. Everyone knew he was too young, but Kehydi 
didn’t want to hear that. He thought he was strong enough…”
      The little ones were asleep before she finished the story. Annaleh tucked their 
blankets more snugly around them, then went to sit beside Cein. She took up a pair of 
trousers from the mending basket and set to work.
      Cein waited until her grandmother had finished the trousers and picked a sock out 
of the basket before asking, “Do you think they’ll all come back?”
      Annaleh looked at her, and tried to make the truth as gentle as possible. “I don’t 
know. Every one of the men Malacai took with him are skilled fighters. Death isn’t 
common while on patrol.”
      “Jamien and Cristan-”
      “Their tragedy weighs on all our hearts.”
      “What killed them?” Cein’s hands were shaking so badly that she could no longer 
hold the needle. She set it aside and clasped her hands together.
      “Wargs that were traveling west from the Misty Mountains.”
      “Why didn’t they hear them?”
      “I’m sure they did.”
      “Why didn’t they climb a tree or something to escape?”
      Again, the answer of ignorance. “I don’t know, Cein. No one knows.”
      “Do you think there were orcs with the wargs? Papa says that where the warg 
howls, there the orc prowls.”
      “And he’s right. There might have been orcs there when Cristan and Nickeh died. 
But it’s unlikely. No orc-blood was found, and the injuries our Dunedain received were 
only warg-bites and scratches.”
      “But how could wargs kill two such experienced Rangers?” Cein cried. “They are 
clever for animals, but not all that clever!”
      “Cein, please be quiet. Your brother and sister are trying to sleep.” Annaleh 
reached out and took her granddaughter’s hands. “For some tragedies, there are no 
answers that can be found by us. Iluvatar sees all, and knows all, but it is not for us to be 
like him.”
      Cein bowed her head. “I want him… them… to come back. I want them to be all 
right.”
      “I know. So do I. But fearing won’t bring them back any sooner. Turn your mind 
from them, Cein, for none of them would want you to fear.”
      She nodded and wiped at a few tears. “I’ll try, Grandma.”
      Annaleh leaned forward and hugged Cein. “All the Dunedain must be strong, 
sweeting, or none of us can be.”
***
      “Malacai, there are too many!” Raven shouted even as he ducked a sword-swipe 
that would have rolled his head on the ground for the wargs to gnaw on.
      ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Malacai met his adversary blade to blade. 
Their enemies weren’t particularly skilled or crafty, but they were many. Five dozen at 
least surrounded the thirty-odd Dunedain. Each short, savage orc was armed with a 
curved sword. Only a handful of them rode wargs, but those few were making short work 
of the Rangers they could reach.
      “Fall back! Fall back if you can!” the second-in-command yelled. ‘Yes, there are 
far too many, especially considering that the Dunedain who were here before us didn’t 
realise how many were skulking around. They have been drawn here by a more potent 
temptation than food or blood. Someone called them.’ He separated his assailant’s head 
from his shoulders and was immediately engaged by another foe. ‘Someone needs to get 
back to the camp and warn them. If we fall here, the camp has to be warned. And they 
need to protect the hobbits if they can.’
      Malacai fought his way to where Aaron and Halbarad were fighting on either side 
of Kehydi. “If you see an opening, take it. Get back and warn our people.”
      “Dad-” Kehydi’s eyes were filled with reproach and terror. ‘How can you even 
ask that of me?’ his expression demanded.
      Malacai ignored him.
      “Yes, Malacai,” Aaron interrupted. “What of Adalai? Should we try to take him 
with us?”
      “Try to take as many of our people with you, but don’t wait for any of them.” 
Malacai killed another orc, and then one of the riders bore down on him. “Go!! Don’t 
look back!”
      “Dunedain! Fall back!” Halbarad bellowed. “Fall back!” He switched to Elvish 
and shouted, “North and west! Run!”
      Those of the small force that still could began to back away. The orcs laughed and 
snarled and pressed harder, scenting their victory.
      Kehydi saw Adalai fall with a knife in his throat. He screamed, but no one heard 
him over the sound of the battle.
      Halbarad seized Kehydi’s hand and dragged him away. Kehydi was too stunned 
to resist.
      Aaron saw three more men fall before he was able to fight his way to Raven’s 
side, get his attention, and show him a way to flee. He knew he was defying Malacai’s 
orders, but Raven would be needed to comfort his grieving fiancée. Besides, he was 
closer to the edge of the battle than any of the rest of the still-battling Dunedain.
      In the center of a ring of warg-riders, Malacai held his own. He had managed to 
kill one of them, but the others were getting the better of him.
      “My Duned-” A black, feather-tipped arrow stopped his voice. Dazed, he touched 
its bloodied tip with his fingers even as he tried to fend off a warg’s questing fangs. The 
beast tore off the Ranger’s sword-hand. Malacai didn’t feel the pain.
      ‘Annaleh. Kehydi. Saru.’ He coughed and the world began to fade.
      ‘Aragorn.’
***
      ‘I am now the oldest living Dunadan except Aragorn.’ Aaron laid a Lady-in-
Emerald on the pyre. There had been no bodies to bring back. When he and two others 
had gone to look for the dead, they had found only bloody rags. The orcs had eaten well 
after the battle. Aaron felt convulsively sick, but controlled it somehow. He forced 
himself to stare at the flowers and to think of nothing but what they represented. ‘These 
flowers and others will be burned in memory of those who have been lost to us.’
      Having regained control of himself, Aaron glanced to his right, to where Annaleh 
was hidden within her tent. ‘She should be laying a flower for him, but she has no 
strength. And I cannot, in good conscience, lay the flower that she would.’ Aaron touched 
his fingers to his lips, then to the flower’s long stem. ‘Sleep, Malacai. Do not fear for us. 
We will meet again some day.’
      Near to him, Cein sobbed against Raven’s shoulder. Aaron knew he had done the 
right thing in rescuing the young Dunadan.
      A hand fell on his shoulder, and Aaron looked up into Saru’s haunted face. The 
younger man- ‘though not a young man any longer,’ Aaron thought- set three flowers on 
the growing testament to the love the Dunedain held for each other. One was a lily, the 
flower for the death of a child. Another was Lady-in-Emerald, the flower for love in 
friendship. The third, however, made Aaron raise an eyebrow and distracted him from his 
grief for an instant. It was a pale pink rose, such as a lover might give. ‘Annaleh would 
have given one of those if she had the strength.’
      Saru saw his confusion and knelt so that he could whisper in Aaron’s ear. 
“Before, when he was my master, I loved him in that way. He was everything to me: 
master, father and lover. It is right that I lay this flower now.”
      Aaron leaned forward and kissed Saru on the forehead. “I understand.”
      A shadow fell over them, and Saru looked up quickly. Aaron couldn’t miss the 
look of passing terror cross Saru’s face before he mastered himself.
      Halbarad was holding several Lady-in-Emerald flowers. He took a step away 
from Saru, and laid his flowers down. From where he knelt, his head bowed, he 
whispered, “I’m sorry I frightened you, Saru. I am sorry.”
      Saru didn’t answer. His distrust of the man was obvious. He looked, instead, to 
Aaron. “I must go to Annaleh.” He rose.
      Aaron watched him go to Cein first and give her a hug. Then Saru disappeared 
within the inner circle of tents.
      “And there is one who will never forgive me.” Halbarad sighed and made as if to 
stand.
      Painfully aware of his responsibilities in this matter, Aaron touched the man’s 
arm. “Hold a moment, Halbarad.”
      “Aaron, this isn’t the time-”
      “It is always the time to hold our people together.” Aaron took a deep breath. 
“Halbarad, please be patient with Saru. He has been through so much. I think, someday, 
he will trust you. But he needs time. And remember that it isn’t just you that frightens 
him. When he sees you, it is a reminder of slavery, and a reminder of all he suffered. 
Eventually, he will be able to look at the past as the past. But that time is not now. Please 
be patient with him. Saru has a loving nature. Someday he will accept you.”
      Halbarad was silent for a moment, then he smiled sadly. “You’re right, Aaron. It 
only hurts because seemingly everyone else has forgiven me. Even Kehydi.” He looked 
at the flowers. “Even Malacai.” He stood. “I must go.”
      “Don’t stray too far,” Aaron cautioned.
      Halbarad shook his head, not caring that Aaron was treating him like a child. It 
was comforting, somehow, to know that Aaron was taking over at least some of 
Malacai’s duties- the unnamed ones. “I won’t.”
***
      When the fire burned, every man, woman and child was there. Saru had drawn 
Annaleh from her tent, and she had laid a pink rose near Saru’s own. As the flames 
climbed to the sky, she knelt with her family. Her eyes were dry, but only because she 
feared to break down in front of all those that were also in pain. Only eight Dunedain had 
returned from the battle.
      Kehydi stood a little apart from the rest of his family, but only because he had lit 
the fire. He longed to return to them, but felt that he couldn’t go until the flowers had all 
turned to ash. To do otherwise seemed disrespectful somehow.
      Saru was managing to hold three of his children at once. Mordecai and Rowena 
were huddled against him, and Aidan was leaning against his shoulder. Cein knelt near 
her papa and Raven held her hand. She had done the same for him when his father had 
been buried.
      When the fire had burned low, Saru kissed each of his children and rose to join 
Kehydi. Behind him, Aidan and Cein held their little brother and sister.
      His hands shaking, Saru stepped up beside his husband and touched his arm. 
Kehydi didn’t look around, but caught Saru’s hand in his own. “I love you,” Kehydi 
whispered, and his voice broke. “I love you, my Saru.”
      “And I you.” Saru put his arm around Kehydi, supporting him. “All here love you. 
You are not alone. Never forget that we still walk with you.”
	Kehydi wept then, and Saru held him.
***
      “What are we to do about the Shire? We don’t now have enough men to guard 
both ourselves and the hobbits.” Kehydi was pulling at his hair, and he didn’t care who 
knew how frightened and lost he felt.
      Aaron spoke with all the restraint and tact he had gained over the years; not much, 
but a little was better than none. “You are our chief now, Kehydi. The rest of us can only 
advise you. I suggest we move the camp nearer to the hobbits so that we can protect both 
at the same time.”
      “But what of the women and children?” Halbarad asked. “They would be at 
greater risk.”
      “Being a Dunadan is to live a life of risk,” Aaron snapped.
      “They didn’t ask to be born into that risk.” Halbarad’s eyes flashed. It had only 
been a day since the ritual burning of the flowers, and emotions ran just under the skin of 
every Dunadan in the camp.
      “Whether they asked it or not, they must accept that the risk exists. We were born 
into it, just as they are, but we accept it.”
      “That’s because we are men. It is our duty to accept it.”
      “The women fight just as well as many of us! Some are better!”
      “And what of the children? Would you have a six-month old baby fight?”
      “Don’t mock me, Halbarad, for I-”
      “-need to calm down. If we fight among ourselves, there is no hope for the 
hobbits. Our duty has not changed because many of our warriors have died. Our duty has 
not changed because we must learn to follow a new second-in-command. Our duty is to 
Aragorn. He would have us protect the innocents around us, hobbits and Dunedain alike.”
      Halbarad, Aaron and Kehydi stared at Saru in open-mouthed astonishment.
      Seemingly unaware of their consternation, Saru continued, “The women and 
children must be protected. So be it. Let those women who cannot fight, and the children 
who are not ready to do so be taken to Hollin. It is not the idyllic place it once was, but 
there are places on that plain that are more easily defensible that this camp. Let an able-
bodied man and two able-bodied women stay with them. The rest must defend the Shire. 
Without us, the hobbits will have no defenses.”
      Aaron recovered first. “Saru, you said that we would leave the children who are 
not ready to fight in Hollin. No children have ever fought with the adults.”
      “That will have to change if we expect to survive long enough to ever see 
Aragorn come to the throne.”
      “But we don’t even know if he’s still-”
      Saru’s eyes flashed. “Shut up, Halbarad. Your fear-mongering isn’t needed.”
      Halbarad gaped at him, then shut his mouth.
      “There are children that are ready to fight, even if they haven’t gained their 
adulthood yet. Nella’s daughter Reyna is one. Aidan is another. And as much as I don’t 
want to send any of our children into battle, we have no choice, unless you call sitting 
back and protecting our own an option. It isn’t. We would be overrun surer than the sky 
is blue and the river runs fast in springtime. And we might not all just die. In fact, that’s 
unlikely. Many of us would end up at Sauron’s door. I would rather take a chance of 
dying on the field of battle than at the Dark Lord’s feet.” He looked around at the other 
three men. “Do you want to meet your ancestors after being degraded and destroyed by 
Sauron?”
      ‘Be easy, Saru. I think they hear you.’
      ‘Mordecai, please talk to Kehydi instead of me. He needs your guidance. And 
where is Malacai?’
      ‘Seeking our Aragorn so he won’t be surprised by anything. For the Enemy could 
use the deaths of our people to get to Aragorn if he isn’t warned ahead of time.’
      ‘I see. What of Kehydi?’
      ‘He has shut himself in; I can’t talk to him unless he will listen.’
      Saru’s anger bubbled over again. “Kehydi! Open your mind to your uncle! He has 
much to say to you! And without his counsel we may all perish!”
      Kehydi looked at him blankly for a moment. That look of dazed perplexity made 
Saru want to shake his husband. Then Kehydi shook his head. “I’ll talk to him once we’re 
settled here.”
      “Well, we won’t be ‘settled’ until you make a decision.”
      Kehydi blinked at Saru in surprise, then said, “I want only to do what is right for 
the Dunedain, what is right for Aragorn, and what is right for Middle-Earth. But as to 
whether that is following your plan, Saru, I can’t know.”
      “Mordecai can help you! And so can we!” Saru took in a deep breath and let it out 
slowly while he silently counted to ten- slowly- in the Common Speech, then in Elvish. 
“Please take our counsel, my love, but remember that you have the final decision.”
      Kehydi nodded. “I will think about everything you’ve said and talk to Mordecai. 
I’ll make a decision by sunset.”
      Saru nodded and stood. “We’ll leave so you can think.” They filed out.
      Just outside the tent, Saru said, “Wait for a moment if you would, Halbarad. I 
would speak with you.”
      Aaron glanced at the two of them, then went to his tent.
      “Do you enjoy having power over me?” Halbarad demanded.
      Saru faced him squarely. “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you. There is no 
excuse for turning against someone who has proved his worth to the Dunedain. You 
brought Kehydi back alive, and for that I will always be grateful. I am sorry I lost my 
temper. It isn’t like me.”
      Halbarad stared at him, struck dumb for the third time that day. At last, he 
managed to make his mouth work. He was amazed how hard it was to meet Saru’s 
unflinching gaze. He felt hot embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I’m sorry I was fear-
mongering. I didn’t even realise what I was doing until you pointed it out.” He smiled 
ruefully. “Old, foolish habits die hard. Please forgive me. I really have all faith in 
Aragorn. Wanting to prove myself to him and be called Dunadan by him has kept me 
from the Shadow for a long time.” He held out his hand. “Allies?”
      Saru hesitated, and Halbarad saw the fear cross his face again. But then Saru 
grasped Halbarad’s hand and shook it firmly. “Allies.”
      At the same moment, they turned away from each other. But Saru looked over his 
shoulder when he was five paces away. “Halbarad?”
      The Ranger stopped and turned. “Yes?”
      “I think Aragorn would be proud of both of us this day.”
      Halbarad smiled. “Such would be my good fortune.”
***
      ‘Are you ready to face them now?’
      Kehydi sighed. ‘Yes… but…”
      Mordecai was ever patient. ‘Go ahead.’
      ‘I miss Dad.’ Kehydi closed his eyes and let the grief come inside him again. He 
shivered and didn’t bother to fight the tears. ‘Why did he have to leave so soon? I’m not 
ready to be second-in-command. Anyone can tell I’m not ready.’
      ‘All wise leaders ask for counsel, Kehydi. There is no shame in that. And as to 
making your mind up once you have all the facts, you’ll get better at that as time passes. 
For now, let me give you a bit of advice on whose counsel to follow. Do not weigh all 
counsel to the same degree. The counsel that must weigh the most is the counsel of your 
heart. After that, Saru’s wisdom should carry much clout. Following him should be 
Annaleh’s advice. After that, draw your own conclusions.’
      ‘What about Aragorn?’
      ‘When he is there, he is chief, so you won’t have to depend on others. Aragorn, 
when he is well and free of the Shadow, has ever known what is best for the Dunedain.’
      ‘How can I tell if he falls under the Shadow’s influence again?’
      ‘Saru can tell you that. He can find Sauron easily if he is looking for Him.’
      ‘How do you know?’
      ‘Malacai has told me much since I died, things that I would have never even 
thought to ask him.’ He smiled; Kehydi felt him do it. ‘Go now, Kehydi. Your people 
await your decision.’
      ‘Thank you, Uncle Mordecai. Please give my father my love.’
      ‘I will.’
***
      “Smile for me, Aragorn. Let me know that you are well.”
      Aragorn turned with the strange halting steps that sometimes haunted his dreams. 
He had joked once that he would never be able to fight in his dreams because the morass-
slowness would invade him at the wrong time. 
      But, morass-slowness or not, he finally did manage to turn. Malacai was sitting on 
a low branch, looking as he had when Aragorn first met him: handsome, strong, and free 
from the cares that had lined his face as the years passed. The only real difference 
between the two- the Malacai before Aragorn in his dream and the one he had first met 
when he was twenty- was that this Malacai’s eyes were filled with an urgency his 
younger self could have never mustered, even under the direst of circumstances. This 
Malacai had seen more- much more- and was able to bring that knowledge to the fore.
      Aragorn tried to smile as his second had asked, but couldn’t quite manage it. That 
look of desperate need, coupled with a cold chill that seemed to pervade Aragorn’s very 
blood conspired to work against any showing of a good mood. “Why are you here, my 
Dunadan?”
      Malacai jumped down from the branch and came to his chief. He knelt at 
Aragorn’s feet and took the older man’s right hand in his own. “Aragorn, never doubt 
that I was ever happy and content to serve you. Never doubt that I lived life to the 
fullest.”
      The past tense- and that sickeningly strong touch of cold inside him- told Aragorn 
all he needed to know. His knees unhinged and he was kneeling in front of his second. At 
once, Malacai took his chief in his arms and held him.
      The tears didn’t come immediately, but Aragorn didn’t wait on them. There was 
much he needed to say, and even more he needed to know, before he could allow himself 
to descend into grief’s pool. “Tell me what happened, my Dunadan,” he whispered, his 
head resting against Malacai’s shoulder.
      Malacai did, keeping the details of his death vague, but making sure that Aragorn 
heard everything he had to hear.
      The minute he was done, Aragorn bombarded him with questions. What would 
the Dunedain do? Would they keep the vigil over the Shire? They must-he insisted upon 
this more than once- for the hobbits had no one else.
      “It’s worse than that, Aragorn,” Malacai answered, and he told his chief 
everything Gandalf had said.
      Groaning, Aragorn continued his questioning while, in the dream-world the two 
of them shared, the sun went down and the stars came out. Gradually, Aragorn became 
aware of the fact that he was actually awake, and that his conversation with Malacai had 
passed, unhindered, from his dreams to his conscious mind. He was on the road north 
even as the two of them talked.
      When Malacai was finished, Aragorn said softly, “I need to find a place to be 
alone for a little while. I cannot keep riding and grieve that way. But I must grieve. I 
don’t want it to come over me when I’m not expecting it.”
      Malacai sensed the anguish behind his chief’s calm words. “There is a grove over 
there that looks dry. I will guard you.”
      Aragorn sighed when he was within the grove and had tied Roheryn the third to a 
bush. He closed his eyes, sat down near his horse, bowed his head, and wept.  Before his 
grief could completely take him, he asked silently, ‘Why do we grieve so much if we can 
still talk to the dead? Many men don’t have that gift. Surely I would never have been able 
to talk to you and learn so much if you were still alive. Why don’t I enjoy the new 
freedom we have?’
      Malacai wished that he could draw Aragorn against his chest. The man’s sobs 
made his heart ache. ‘Because death brings an end to many kinds of intimacy. It brings an 
end to the warmth of hands touching, and ensures that those you love will never share 
fully in the life you would have made with them. And death always takes your friends 
and family from you long before you’re ready. The Dunedain have always died young, 
Aragorn, or at least before our time. When one of your people is attacked and brought 
down, you feel vulnerable, and are forced to accept that we are but mortals borrowing 
time on Arda.’
      ‘I… I want you so badly, Malacai… I don’t want to know that you’re really 
dead… I wanted you to be beside me at the end of the journey. You shouldn’t have been 
forced to leave in the middle this way.’
      ‘Death is rarely fair or timely, Aragorn. That’s why you have to seize every 
opportunity to do what you know in your soul is right.’
      Aragorn shuddered. ‘I knew young Adalai only as a months-old babe. What was 
he like?’ He paused. ‘Please tell me all that has changed in the camp since I left. I would 
hear good news of my people, Malacai; my heart is so sore.’
      As Malacai talked, Aragorn began to regain his composure. He relaxed and was 
soon asleep. Sometimes, he wept in his sleep, but mostly he was quiet, listening. Malacai 
was a good storyteller; his speech was rhythmic and slow, his words conjuring the 
sharpest of images in Aragorn’s mind. He talked the moon across the sky and towards the 
horizon, and still Aragorn slept and dreamed of all he heard. 
      In the morning, Aragorn sat up, his eyes immediately questing about him to make 
sure he was still alone with Roheryn. Satisfied that he was still safe, Aragorn looked 
within himself, seeking the comfort of his second.
      But Malacai had gone.
      Aragorn felt grief trying to overwhelm him again, but most of his immediate tears 
had been spent in the night, so he was able to conquer his sorrow for a short time. ‘I will 
have to grieve again, but for now there is much to be done.’
      Rising, he went to Roheryn and rubbed the stallion’s neck. Roheryn whickered 
and, ducking his head slightly, whuffed against Aragorn’s neck. Aragorn smiled. “Aye, 
my friend; I’m better than I was. Shall we away? The sun will be rising soon.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
      The Dunedain were packing to leave. Kehydi had made his announcement after 
discussing his decision with Saru, Annaleh, Aaron and Halbarad. His mother hadn’t 
really been ready to talk, but she had listened, and had kept her grief to herself. Saru had 
sat beside her and held her hand, comforting her as best he could.
      “We will all move,” Kehydi had announced as he stood before the others of what 
he had started to think of as his council. Kehydi had a reason for including each of them. 
He needed Saru to keep him calm, and to offer suggestions. Annaleh was there because 
she knew Malacai and Aragorn even better than her son did. Also… there was an aura of 
strength and surety that surrounded her, even when she was grieving. Aaron he had 
chosen because he, like Annaleh, knew Aragorn and Malacai well, but also because he 
was more militant than the others and would balance the views of the others. Also, as 
historian, he was privy to the vast history of the Dunedain and could tell Kehydi if any 
plan had been tried before and how it had fared the first time. Kehydi was determined not 
to repeat past mistakes. And as to Halbarad… Kehydi knew that the man’s devotion to 
Aragorn was unshakable, but he kept the man close so that Halbarad wouldn’t be tempted 
by the Shadow, and also because he, like Aaron and Annaleh, was among the few 
remaining older Dunedain. His experience was therefore valuable.
      “But we will not move to Hollin. For one thing, it is too far away from the borders 
of the Shire, so no messages could be sent easily. For another, I want to know when any 
more women or children are ready to fight. Some of the women that can’t fight right now 
are only incapacitated due to illness or pregnancy. And those women who can’t fight are 
still invaluable to us. As to the children who aren’t ready, they need to stay with us so 
they can be trained.” He looked around at his council and continued, “We will relocate 
near the Shire. My uncle has informed me that there are defensible positions close 
enough to the hobbits to watch them, but far enough away so we don’t rouse suspicion, 
and so that most enemies of the Shire won’t know we’re there until it’s too late.” He 
looked around him again. “We will leave as soon as everything can be put together. 
Please help me to convey the message that we must travel light, but efficiently. 
Everything that is absolutely needed should be taken.”
      He turned to Saru. “Will Terrell, Nella and their family be able to move?”
      “They’ll need help. Maybe we should even take them in one of the wagons.” The 
Dunedain owned two such. “I know it would mean more for the others to carry, but none 
of her family is ready for traveling on horseback or on foot.”
      “Can we transport them in a wagon and still manage to fit other things in there as 
well?”
      “Aye, easily.”
      “Good. I want you to make sure they are comfortable as possible, but pack as 
much in with them as you can.” He paused, then asked, “How many of your herbs will be 
ready for the journey?”
      “That depends on when we leave. If we leave tomorrow or the next day, I’ll have 
to throw out much of what I’ve collected because they are still wet, and will grow mold 
no matter how carefully I pack them.”
      “Couldn’t you hang the herbs in one of the wagons to dry?” Aaron suggested.
      Saru blinked, then smiled sheepishly. “Aye, that I could. Their scents would even 
be a comfort to Terrell’s family.”
      To Aaron, Kehydi said, “Help Saru prepare the better of the two wagons to carry 
the family, and any others that are ill,” he added as an afterthought. “Then see what room 
is left and pack appropriately. Halbarad, please work with them, and fit as much in the 
second wagon as you can.”
      Annaleh spoke, and her voice was so soft that the others had to strain to hear her. 
“I should help pack, Kehydi.”
      Her son nodded willingly, glad that she was talking. “If there’s nothing else, we’d 
better get started. I won’t know when we’re leaving until I see that everyone is ready.” 
He frowned, suddenly struck by another thing he’d forgotten. “I’ll pack the food, I guess, 
though-”
      “Though you’ve never done it before,” Saru interrupted. “Ask Kayla to help you. 
She’s skilled at packing and preserving food.”
      Kehydi smiled at his husband, and the council broke up so they could all set about 
their various tasks.
***
      Frodo glanced at the wall of his uncle’s study. The light played gently across the 
raised molding. ‘It’s funny that I never noticed any of this before. Now I’ll be moving to 
Buckland- or that’s what I’ve told the others. I wish I really was. At least then I could feel 
that this change was for the best. But I can never come back here. And it isn’t as if I’m 
going to a specific destination. Who knows what will happen after Bree?’
      He lifted a pale hand and caressed the molding. ‘I remember when Uncle Bilbo 
and I put this in. It’s the most work I’ve ever seen him do.’ Frodo smiled. ‘But he didn’t 
want anyone else inside Bag End.’ His smile faded. ‘Now the Sackville-Bagginses will 
have it.  It’s almost as if the Dark Lord’s influence is already here.’ He shivered. ‘No. 
This isn’t the Dark Lord; this is just petty rivalry and jealousy.’
      He looked at his hand on the molding, and suddenly dropped it to his side so he 
wouldn’t have to look at it. ‘I’m so pale and fragile and untried… How will I possibly 
make it all that way?’ He shivered. ‘I’m afraid, Gandalf. Why couldn’t you be here? And 
yet, I can’t wait any longer. I think I’ve waited too long as it is.’
      “Mister Frodo?”
      Frodo jumped, spinning around and raising his hands in an involuntary defensive 
posture. He saw it was Sam and tried to laugh.
      “I’m sorry, Mister Frodo. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Bless me, but 
everybody’s jumpy today.”
      “What do you mean, Sam?” Frodo asked, hoping to distract both Sam and 
himself.
      “Well, those Big People that have been lurking around and all. There’ve been less 
of them, of course, but there are too many for most folks. And, well, new Big Folks have 
been seen. These are different, aren’t they? They vanish without a trace, and are hardly 
even seen. But they’ve been seen enough to be sure they’re there.”
      Frodo shivered. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing we’re moving to Buckland, then. 
It will be better there, especially with the Forest right there. No Big Folk will brave it to 
reach us.” He did his best to smile. “Since you’re here, Sam, will you help me with a few 
last things?”
      “Of course, Mr. Frodo. Just tell me what I can do to help.”
      Frodo pointed to a desk. “I need help sorting those papers into house-papers and 
personal papers.” As Sam turned away to look at the desk, Frodo wiped quickly at his 
eyes to make sure no one would see his tears. ‘Oh, Sam, I’ll miss you most of all. This 
whole journey would be almost bearable if I could take you with me… But I can’t risk 
that. I won’t risk your life, my dear Sam.’
***
      Legolas sat on a low chair to the left of his father’s throne as the guards reported 
Gollum’s escape.
      “Gollum must have known the orcs were coming, because he refused to come 
down from the tree, and he was gone when the attack ended.” The elf- older than Legolas 
by a century or more- looked more annoyed than anything. After all, orc-attacks were a 
common occurrence in Mirkwood.
      Thranduil frowned. “What you say is unlikely, since Gollum was never left alone, 
but it is the only explanation which makes sense. You are free to go. The memorial for 
your comrades will commence at moonrise.”
      The guard bowed and left.
      Legolas felt a pang of sadness. He wasn’t close friends with any of the guards that 
had died, but he had led some of them in skirmishes against orcs and spiders. ‘I will 
attend the memorial,’ he resolved.
      Thranduil turned towards his son. “Well, Legolas? What would you do now?”
      It was a test. Each day, a different son had to sit in the throne room and watch 
their father govern his kingdom. Sometimes, he expected that son to listen, but more 
often, at least in Legolas’ case, he would ask what should be done next. If the answer was 
pleasing to him, he would smile. But if the answer wasn’t what he had hoped to hear, he 
would give the offending son a tongue-lashing that made Legolas almost wonder if a 
physical beating would be kinder.
      “Mithrandir trusted Gollum to us, Father, and even though the wizard has now 
seen Gollum, he asked us to continue to watch him. Someone must inform Mithrandir 
that Gollum has escaped. Gollum is, as we have discovered, and also as Mithrandir told 
us, far from harmless. Mithrandir must be put on his guard.” Legolas’ assertiveness was 
not cockiness or conceit; if he hesitated in any way, or sounded at all unsure, he would 
fall in his father’s esteem at once.
      “Perhaps,” returned Thranduil, “but who would you send to deliver such a 
message, and how would you find Mithrandir in the wilderness?”
      “There is no way to find Mithrandir in the wilderness unless he wishes to be 
found, so the messenger cannot deliver the message to him directly. I would suggest 
taking the news directly to Imladris, where Mithrandir often stops. Also, if the message is 
taken to Imladris, it can easily be conveyed to any travelers who pass through the Last 
Homely House, or, just as easily, on to Lothlorien, since the sons of Elrond ride often 
abroad these days.”
      “And how do you know they do so?”
      “The lords Elladan and Elrohir visited here only a month ago, and I found an 
opportunity to speak with them at length regarding developments outside of Mirkwood.”
      “And why did you do that?”
      “I wanted to know what dangers might be gathering outside our borders, for any 
dangers that are outside our home can easily venture inside.” Sometimes, Legolas hated 
the haughty tone he was forced to take when he spoke to… well, to anyone except his 
horse, Esteldil, third granddaughter of Kendall. His copper-coated mare was a mixed 
breed- mostly elf-horse, but Kendall’s blood still ran in her veins, and was shown in the 
shagginess of her bronze mane and tail.
      Thranduil nodded his approval, and even graced his son with a smile. “Tell me, 
Legolas, who would you send to Imladris?”
      “The messenger who goes must not only have an excellent knowledge of the 
lands between here and Imladris, and also of the movements of the dark creatures, but 
must also be able to make his or her way around Imladris confidently.”
      “Why is that required?”
      “Lord Elrond does not always approve of the elves of Mirkwood. It would be 
easier to reach him, and gain his agreement to carry a message to Mithrandir, if the elf 
who speaks to him knows of Imladris’s ways. Also, the elf who travels runs the risk of 
meeting the Dunedain, and must know how to approach them because they will be very 
wary, especially these days, of strangers. If nothing else, the elf that journeys to Imladris 
should be able to speak Quenyan fluently, and being able to speak the Common Speech 
wouldn’t hurt.”
      Thranduil considered his son’s words, then smiled for the second time during 
their talk, something that hardly ever happened. “Are you asking to take this message to 
Imladris, Legolas?”
      “Yes, Father.” There was no use dissimulating, and doing so might even lose him 
the opportunity. Legolas met his father’s gaze unflinchingly.
      Thranduil considered, then nodded. “So be it. Prepare yourself and leave 
whenever you are ready.”
      Legolas stood and bowed. “Yes, Father.”
      Thranduil rose also and touched Legolas’ shoulder. “Be careful, Legolas. You 
have no idea how difficult it is for me to let you go. I only do so because you are the most 
qualified elf for the job.”
      Legolas flushed slightly. “I won’t disappoint you, Father.” Bowing again, he left 
the throne room.
      Alone in his rooms, Legolas locked his door, drew the curtains closed, then 
jumped in the air, his face breaking into the joyous grin he’d been holding in. ‘I get to 
leave Mirkwood for a while! I might see the Dunedain!’ He took in a deep breath, then 
admitted in a whisper, “I might even see Aragorn.” His body tingled with anticipation, 
and it was all Legolas could do to keep from running in circles.
      Restraining himself, Legolas went to the window, opened the curtains and gazed 
to the North, his heart racing. He gazed towards the horizon for a while, then turned to his 
packing, resolving to leave in the morning.
      ‘I could leave before that- I could leave in an hour, in fact, but I still want to be 
there for the guards who risked so much to give Gollum a chance out in the sun.’
***
      “Are you afraid of the dark?” Cein drew Mordecai against her and hugged him. 
Not far away, Raven was getting ready to stand watch. The moon was little more than a 
slit in the sky, and the darkness seemed oppressive.
      “I want Papa.”
      “He’s standing watch, Mordi. He’ll be back soon.”
      “Not until morning.”
      “That’s only a few hours away. If you go to sleep, he’ll be back by the time you 
wake up.”
      “I can’t sleep.” Mordecai snuggled closer. “Can I stay with you?”
      “What about Rowena and Aidan? Did you tell them where you went?”
      “I told Aidan.” He yawned.
      She kissed his forehead, and felt a tiny smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 
There had been precious little to smile at lately. “All right, you can stay here.”
      Mordecai wriggled around until he was comfortable, then asked something she 
had been dreading. “Will we all die like Adalai and Grandpa?”
      Cein murmured, “I promise, you’ll be all right. All of us will.” She hated herself 
for the lie, but couldn’t but speak it. Mordecai wasn’t old enough for the truth. ‘I hope he 
lives to an age where he can handle more truth.’
      “Sleep, little brother. Everything will look better in the morning.” That, at least, 
was usually true.
      Raven knelt beside her and touched her hair gently. “I’ll be back soon. Is there 
anything you need?”
      Cein shook her head slightly. “I’m all right. Don’t worry about me.”
      “I worry, as you well know.” He tipped her head down and kissed her temple. 
“It’s almost strange to think that you’re my wife.”
      ‘Yes, and it’s even stranger to think that we won’t be having sex because we’re 
afraid of bringing any more children into this terrible world.’ Out loud, she told him, “In 
the morning, we’ll watch the sunrise and look forward to the new day. Tomorrow’s the 
day Daddy and the others return from Crickhollow.”
      “I’m sure they’ll bring good news.” Raven kissed her again, then rose. He looked 
down at Mordecai, who had fallen asleep. “Just as you told him, try to sleep yourself.”
***
      Kehydi watched the Nine invade the house he and Aaron had searched an hour 
ago. The hobbits were long gone. ‘Thank the Valar for small favors.’ He bit his lip and 
resisted the urge to shiver. Being this close to the Nine, without Aragorn there, made him 
feel almost sick.
      Aaron placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, and Kehydi felt a little better. 
They watched the Nine ransack the house, then leave, dropping a cloak on the doorstep.
      At last, when the freezing cold that seeped out of the Nine like water squelching 
out of a bog’s mud had dissipated, Kehydi felt as if he could breathe without worrying 
about losing control of his stomach.
      Aaron tightened his grip on Kehydi’s shoulder, and the younger man- Aragorn’s 
second-in-command- glanced at him in confusion.
      “Wait,” Aaron mouthed.
      A moment passed. Two. Three. Aaron relaxed. “Okay, they’re definitely not 
coming back. It’s time for us to head back ourselves.”
      “Do you think we should follow the hobbits?”
      “We can’t. First, they wouldn’t trust us. Second, we have other duties. Third, I 
have a feeling they’re going to meet an unanticipated friend along the way.” Aaron 
straightened, and Kehydi followed suit. They turned to walk north, back to where the rest 
of the camp waited and watched.
      “Did you have a vision?”
      Aaron smiled. “That’s Saru’s department. I have but a feeling, but it’s a strong 
one.”
      “I’ll choose to believe in it.”
      “Doing that makes things easier. Aragorn had a saying: expect the best, but 
prepare for the worst.”
      Kehydi swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “I miss Aragorn. With… well, 
with everything so confused and hurting and lost, I want to see him. Just for a moment.”
      “Malacai’s spirit lives in you, Kehydi. I’m sure he’s proud of how well you have 
taken over for him. And Aragorn will be proud, as well.”
      Kehydi blushed, and was glad that the darkness hid his embarrassment. “Let’s get 
back.”
      Aaron chuckled. “Whatever you say.”
***
      Aragorn listened to all the hobbits said to Tom Bombadil, and he understood two 
things at once: the hobbits were on a journey they didn’t know the importance of, and 
they needed his help. Without him, they would be run down by Sauron’s minions easily 
in the wilds.
      ‘I’ll watch them until they reach Bree, then I’ll offer my help. If I take them to 
Rivendell, maybe all will be well. I hope the Last Homely House still stands, and that 
Lord Elrond- that Ada- has healed enough to help the hobbits. And after Rivendell? Only 
the Valar know. Or possibly Gandalf.’
      “Hello, Aragorn!” laughed a cheerful voice.
      Aragorn’s head snapped up and he felt an instant of panic. But it was Tom 
Bombadil who was crouching before him, his hands on his knees, and his face split by a 
large smile. The Ranger composed himself and straightened up. He bowed to the Master 
of the Woods. “You startled me, Master.”
      “Those who spy on the little ones are easily startled.”
      Aragorn surprised himself by blushing. “I was warned that the hobbits would be 
traveling, unaccompanied, and that they bear a heavy burden.”
      Tom laughed. “What burden, son of Elendil?”
      “They carry the One Ring.”
      Tom raised an eyebrow, then laughed once more. “It was an interesting bauble.”
      Aragorn shook his head. “The Ring is dangerous to the rest of us, Master. Forgive 
me, please, but I must go. I need to help the hobbits finish their mission.”
      Tom nodded, then said, “If you see Gandalf before I do, give him greetings from 
me, and from my lovely Goldberry.”
      “I will, Master.” Aragorn turned towards his horse, then stopped. “Master, may I 
ask a favor?”
      Tom smiled. “I never understood why you have to be so formal. Ask me.”
      Aragorn took off Roheryn’s saddle and bridle, slinging the saddle-bags over his 
shoulder. “Please care for Roheryn for a little time, then send him back to my people.” 
Roheryn nuzzled Aragorn’s shoulder, then trotted over to stand beside the Master of the 
Woods. Aragorn smiled; it felt good to have such a simple, uncomplicated expression on 
his face. “He will be happy with you. I can see that.”
      Tom touched the stallion’s nose, and turned away. “Good luck wherever you 
journey, Man of the West.”
      “Thank you, Master.” Aragorn wanted to watch until his friend had disappeared 
over the horizon, but there was too much to do. Sighing, he whispered, “Luck, Roheryn. 
Hopefully my Rangers don’t misconstrue your reappearance in the camp.” Aragorn began 
to walk in the direction the hobbits had taken, staying off the road, but keeping near 
enough so he would know if the little ones had left its relative safety.
      ‘Of course, if the Nine are following them- and I feel them, like a dim shadow 
where the sun should be shining bright- then the road is hardly safe. Hopefully, they will 
reach Bree unchallenged.’
***
      Gandalf glared at Barliman, his eyebrows bristling. Gone was the kind, if 
somewhat cool, wizard Malacai had met on the road to the Shire. In its place stood a 
furious, vengeful Istar. Gandalf’s eyes flashed, and he had to resist the urge to take his 
staff to the fat bartender. ‘No magic would be needed,’ he thought. ‘I would simply beat 
him senseless with the very wood!’
      The thought calmed him slightly, if only because it allowed him a slight 
distraction from his worry for Frodo and Sam. Able to think coherently once more, he 
said, “Tell me again what happened.”
      Barliman repeated the fulsome story, but this time he added a little tidbit. “And 
they went away this morning with one of them dangerous Rangers.”
      Gandalf’s eyebrows shot up. “What did you say?” he demanded, scaring the poor 
innkeeper half to death.
      “A… a Ranger. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen to me. He had won 
them quite over. Apparently they thought he was a friend of yours, and-”
      “And what was this Ranger’s name?”
      “Why, I don’t know his real name; we don’t know them, you know, not in the 
way we know decent folk-”
      “What name did he give the hobbits?” Gandalf took a step towards Barliman, and 
the man backed up against the wall, his whole body shaking.
      “St-Strider!” He cringed, obviously anticipating that he was about to be turned 
into a toad or a footstool.
      Gandalf caught his shoulder in a steely grip. “Are you quite sure that’s the name 
he gave?”
      Quaking, Barliman managed, with some difficulty, to nod. “I’m-I’m sure.”
      Gandalf released the innkeeper, threw back his head and laughed. “Trice-beloved 
Barliman! A blessing on all your beer! Set up a room for me. I can stay here tonight and 
have a little rest after all.”
***
      Glorfindel saddled Asfoloth and checked to make sure his sword was seated 
securely in the sheath attached to the saddle. Seeing that all was ready, he caught his 
stallion’s bridle and walked out of the stables.
      At the gates, Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan were waiting. Glorfindel assessed their 
expressions, and couldn’t help thinking of them as his family. Elladan had been so for 
long years now, but his reaction to Elrohir and Elrond was strange and new. ‘Maybe it’s 
because I’m not sure if I will return, and I want to leave them in love, which is how I 
came here.’ Glorfindel stepped away from Asfoloth and bowed to Elrond. “Permission to 
leave Imladris and seek the hobbits, my lord.”
      Elrond’s expression was unreadable. “Permission granted, Balrog Slayer. Be wary 
and watchful. The Nine are a danger- even to one such as you.”
      Again, Glorfindel bowed. “I will, Lord Elrond.”
      Elrohir glanced at his father, and when he received a nod of approval, he stepped 
forward. “Glorfindel… We need you here. Are you sure you have to do this?”
      “Without the hobbits, and the burden they carry, safe in Imladris, we will soon be 
overrun by Sauron once more.” He looked at Elladan for moment, then back at Elrohir. “I 
won’t risk that.” If there was any part of the Shadow’s influence left in Elrohir’s mind, he 
would object. And even though Elrohir hadn’t put so much as a toe out of line, and even 
though he fought at Glorfindel’s side with all determination and single-mindedness, 
Glorfindel couldn’t help looking for that Shadow.
      “Please be careful, then. We rally do need you.” He bit his lip, then held out his 
hand, a man-gesture he’d picked up from Arathorn.
      Glorfindel looked at the hand, unsure what to do. He reached out, grasping it.
      Elrohir shook his hand, then backed up a pace, blushing from his cheeks to the 
tips of his ears.
      Glorfindel felt himself blushing a little as well, and so he turned to Elladan. His 
lover smiled and opened his arms. Glorfindel went to him at once and relaxed into the 
strong, sure embrace.
      “Come home soon, Glorfindel. We’ll be watching the borders for your return.” He 
touched Glorfindel’s temple lightly. “And if you really need me, you know how to call. 
I’ll be listening.”
      “Promise me you won’t come alone.”
      “I promise.” Elladan kissed his lover, then let him go. “I love you.”
      “I love you, too.” Glorfindel went to Asfoloth, swung into the saddle, smiled at 
the three elves, and galloped out of Imladris.
***
      They stood awkwardly on either side of the healing chamber’s door where Frodo 
was hovering between the Shadow world and the world he’d known all his life.
      Aragorn’s mind strayed from Frodo to the rescuer he and the hobbits had met 
upon the road. ‘I now know of his past life… I learned about it in history classes in this 
very valley, but thought it was a different Glorfindel they spoke of. Yet, I am more 
confused than ever. If he endured death and reincarnation, why did he come to Elrond 
and give himself away as a whore? Wouldn’t his pride, not to mention what he had gone 
through for the survivors of the disaster in Gondolin, make Elrond respect him?’
      Sighing, Aragorn looked away from the blond. Glorfindel, in turn, was staring off 
into space, his eyes half-closed. ‘I still cannot believe how he greeted me on the road!’ 
Aragorn continued, perplexed. ‘He called “Ai na vedui Dunedan! Mae govannen!” Why 
would he call that to someone who had treated him badly? Was it simply out of concern 
for the hobbits? Did he wish to put me off-balance with a friendly greeting that I might be 
more pliant to his will?’ Even as a passing idea, Aragorn knew his guess to be the wrong 
one. ‘Even at his most cruel- if he was ever cruel- I don’t believe Glorfindel could fake a 
kind word.’
      Then he thought of the playacting Glorfindel had done for Elrohir so that Elladan 
would have someone to depend on. ‘I haven’t even seen Elladan yet. What if Glorfindel 
still has to pretend with him?’ Aragorn shook his head. ‘No. I don’t believe that, either. 
All of Imladris has a different feel to it since I last came. The atmosphere is lighter… and 
brighter. I think whatever was festering here has been plucked out. I pray that’s not just 
wishful thinking.’
      The Ranger groaned silently. ‘We can’t do anything here; why are we standing 
here? Why am I torturing myself? All I can do here is think about the pain I caused 
Glorfindel, and wonder at his compassion, feigned or otherwise.’ Glancing at Glorfindel 
again, Aragorn was moved to speak. “There really isn’t anything we can do here.”
      Glorfindel shifted his weight from one foot to the other and opened his eyes all 
the way. He was fidgeting with the sleeves of his tunic. “I know. But I’m here to support 
Elladan when he and Elrond are done helping the hobbit.”
      Aragorn’s jaw dropped. “Elladan is in there?”
      “Aye. Why do you sound so surprised?”
      Staring at the floor, Aragorn chose not to answer. He was resolved, however, that 
if he could not leave- and he wanted to see Elladan, so he must stay- he would address his 
concerns about Glorfindel. ‘I would rather know if he is angry with me,’ he thought. ‘If I 
know he is angry, I can start making amends. Hiding from my mistakes has never 
worked. I won’t try the same trick now.’
      “I’m sorry I hurt you, Glorfindel. I’ve learned so much lately, but the hardest 
lesson to swallow is that I caused more damage than I ever imagined.”
      “You’ve also healed much. Elladan and Elrohir have been to see Prince Legolas. 
Apparently, he is quite happy. King Thranduil takes good care of his own.”
      “So I’ve noticed.” Aragorn looked up, and when he saw the look of compassion in 
Glorfindel’s eyes, it almost broke him. But he refused to look away. “Thank you for 
forgiving me, Lord Glorfindel.”
      “Don’t be so formal, Estel.” Glorfindel walked to Aragorn’s side and touched his 
shoulder. “Please, don’t think that I’m angry with you. All the injuries I suffered- only 
one or two of which were actually dealt by you- have healed. I don’t even think about 
them anymore. I have Elladan, and I have freedom. There is nothing else I could want. 
Please don’t be afraid of me.”
      Aragorn looked at him, and for a moment his eyes were like those of the 
seventeen-year old he had been once. “I loved you, Glorfindel. Did you know that? It was 
only for a little while, at least as the elves reckon time, only three years, but I did love 
you. I wanted to protect you and make you happy.”
      “I know, fair Estel.” Glorfindel kissed the man on one stubbly cheek.
      Aragorn stood, frozen for an instant, but then he shook himself. “You knew? 
How?”
      “As a child, you weren’t very good at keeping secrets.” Glorfindel was grinning. 
“Once, you caught Elrohir and me together. You saw Elrohir hurt me, and challenged 
him to a duel. Do you remember?”
      Aragorn blushed. “Aye.” Then he, too, smiled. “I almost defeated him.”
      Glorfindel snorted lightly. “My warrior,” he said, gently mocking.
      The blush spread from Aragorn’s cheeks, tingeing his ears. “Thank you for taking 
such good care of me, Glorfindel.”
      “It was my honor.”
***
      Gandalf took Frodo’s hand and smiled. “There is more I must tell you, and it 
cannot wait. Are you strong enough to hear a little more?”
      Frodo nodded. “I feel able handle almost anything, Gandalf. I’m just glad to be 
here. I never thought I would make it, even with Strider guiding us.” He grinned. “And 
I’m so glad to see you. When you didn’t turn up at Bree-”
      Gandalf forestalled him. “Let me tell a little about the Shire.”
      Frodo raised an eyebrow. “I know you’ve visited it so many times, but how can 
you know something I don’t? I grew up there.”
      Gandalf chuckled. “I see things you would never expect. Maybe you’ll be as wise 
as me someday, but that’s not yet.”
      Frodo laughed. “I don’t think that will ever happen, not if I live a thousand years.”
      Gandalf folded his hands in his lap. “First, let me tell you something that will ease 
your mind slightly. Do you remember me saying that hobbits are made of stronger stuff 
than most people will ever know?”
      Frodo nodded, smiling again.
      “Well, that strength comes from a hobbit’s nature, but you have something a little 
extra. Bilbo had it, too. You have a natural shield against the Ring. It isn’t perfect, or I 
would have simply escorted Bilbo here myself so he could talk with Elrond. But the 
shield is helpful, even if it isn’t perfect. It protected your uncle a long time, and will 
protect you. It has already done so, in fact. I know you have been tempted to wear the 
Ring a few times, but most wouldn’t even struggle against that temptation. You are 
something of a miracle, Frodo. And it’s a miracle that the Ring came to Bilbo, and thus to 
you. Bilbo was meant, by a higher power, to the find the Ring, and so you, by extension, 
were meant to have it. That is a reassuring thought. You have been chosen to bear this 
burden, and as long as it is yours to bear, I will be right beside you to help.”
      Frodo was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I won’t rely on the shield, but it 
feels good to know that I have a something to help me.”
      Gandalf laid a gnarled hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Rest now. Soon it will be 
time for talking and planning, but for now, all you have to do is rest. I’ll be back in a 
while. I must speak with Strider.”
      Frodo yawned. “I am tired…” He yawned again. “Gandalf, how do you know 
Strider?”
      “He and I have journeyed together for many years.”
      “Is he really a Ranger?”
      “Yes, he is.”
      “If he’s good, does that mean the other Rangers are good, too?”
      “Most of them are just as noble-hearted as he is, yes. Not every one is perfect; 
they are still men, after all. But most of them are worthy of great honor.”
      “Why don’t the men of Bree honor them?”
      “They fear all those that are different from themselves.”
      Frodo yawned. “Hobbits are like that, too, sometimes.”
      “Go to sleep, Frodo.”
***
      Elladan crawled into bed beside Glorfindel and the Balrog Slayer drew him close, 
kissing his hair and murmuring soft words in his ear.
      “Glorfindel… tell me about Gondolin. Tell me about its fall.”
      Glorfindel laid his chin on the top of his husband’s head. He felt exhaustion 
stealing through him, but he sensed that this was much more than idle talk. “What would 
you hear, my Elladan?”
      “Where did the evil that destroyed your home come from?”
      “It came from both inside and outside. There was corruption in Gondolin, though 
I didn’t really pay much attention to it. I was too busy defending my home and relishing 
in my position as Captain. I had only just gained the position- a month ago, I believe- 
when I fought the Balrog.”
      “So you didn’t get a chance to learn about the corruption?”
      “I’m sure I could have, if I’d sought it out, but the people conspiring against 
Gondolin, and against the Valar, seemed to stay away from me. And I don’t think their 
reticence to talk had much to do with my light.”
      Elladan snuggled closer. “You have always had a look of distance about you, 
Glorfindel. Not in recent years-” he smiled- “but before that, your attitude said firmly that 
you would do your duty, and respond to nothing else.”
      Glorfindel chuckled. “Well, maybe that’s how I thought, once. I should have 
learned in Gondolin that you can’t avoid the evil around you, but have to meet it head-
on.” He shrugged slightly. “Maybe that’s part of the reason the Valar gave me a second 
chance at life: to learn a few things I should have picked up the first time.”
	“I think you’re also here because you were needed to save Frodo. Without you, he 
would have been truly lost. That, of course, doesn’t mean that you won’t do other great 
things. You’ve already helped to force the Shadow from Imladris and-”
      Glorfindel stilled Elladan’s words with his lips. “Please don’t make my head burst 
with pride, love. I’m comfortable right here, just as I am.”
      Elladan chuckled, then yawned. “I love you.”
      Glorfindel kissed Elladan chastely. “Sleep, my love. The past and future will keep 
for a night.”
***
      Elrohir rolled over and stared at the wall. The night seemed more alive with 
noises and shifting shadows than it had been in years. He wasn’t exactly concerned; he 
was fascinated by all the old patterns. And joining these were new shapes and degrees of 
grey that entranced and teased him.
      ‘Have these always been here? Did they never leave? Maybe I just had my eyes 
closed before.’ Suddenly, he wanted Elladan beside him to share his discovery.
	‘Not yet. Elladan isn’t ready to leave the Balrog Slayer. He just returned from 
defeating Sauron’s mighty forces- well, driving them away, at least- and Elladan won’t 
want to be parted from him this night. Wait. Patience, after all, is a virtue that the Dark 
and Light Powers have in common. 
      Elrohir groaned and rolled onto his back. The ceiling was resplendent with 
intricate dances of grey and black. ‘Will the dance still be here if I wait?’
      ‘The dance will always wait for you, and for him. You are my children, Elrohir, 
and the fulfillers of my dreams. I would never forsake you.’
      For an instant, Elrohir hesitated, and the dance faded a little. ‘But… We are Ada’s 
children. We cannot be another’s.’ He closed his eyes as dizziness overtook him. ‘And 
Glorfindel… What of Glorfindel?’
      ‘He can watch the dance as well. So can your Ada. They, too, are my children. I 
speak of children as one of the Valar would: you are the ones I long to share my secrets 
with, and the ones I long to place at my right hand. Open your eyes, Elrohir. You need 
fear the darkness no more. I promise.’
      For another moment, Elrohir resisted. ‘I should talk to Elladan before I-’
      ‘Would you disturb him on this night? IF you wish, I will speak to him for you. I 
will even show him a little of the dance, though I will leave its most intricate parts to you. 
Would you like a chance to show Elladan something he has never seen before?’
      Smiling beatifically, Elrohir relaxed and opened his eyes. The dance was back, 
sharp and clear, as before. ‘Yes, but I can wait to show him. The capering of the light and 
ark won’t disappear tomorrow.’
      ‘It will never disappear, my son.’
      Elrohir laughed like a child and clapped his hands as the shadows did a 
particularly complicated-looking shuffle. ‘And how glad he’ll be when I can show him 
each dance!’
Chapter Sixty-Three
      As the bright light of day was exchanged for the uncertain light of the stars and 
moon, Saru slipped from the camp, telling those that watched with him that he would be 
back shortly. “Be careful,” was their answer, and Saru marveled that they had come to 
care for him, or at least to think of him as one of their own.
      ‘I really shouldn’t be leaving the safety of the camp, but there is something I must 
do.’ Saru sighed, and wondered when he would no longer need these nightly excursions. 
‘When will my grief ease enough that I might be able to leave every other night?’ He felt 
the tears starting, but forced them back. It wasn’t safe to let himself go just yet. But soon 
it would be. There were many places, near to the camp, but not too near, where a solitary 
man could hide if he didn’t mind crawling a little. Saru slipped beneath a hawthorn bush, 
feeling immediately protected as soon as he was hidden. Then he released his grief; then 
he wept.
      ‘Adalai… Adalai… my son, my son, why did I let you go? Why did I send you to 
your death? You knew so little of the world- you were so like Kehydi at that age… 
Adalai, my precious one, my firstborn son, why did I send you to your death? If my 
visions are so amazing and wonderful, why didn’t I see your death? Why couldn’t I know 
of what might happen and save you from it?’
      In this way, Saru talked to himself while he rocked and sobbed.
      A rustling of leaves brought Saru out of his grief enough to reach for his knife and 
look around wildly. At first, he couldn’t find the source of the sound. Then a hand 
touched his arm. He flinched, and tried to attack. The knife was easily knocked from his 
grasp, and he shaped his mouth to whistle, thinking he probably wouldn’t have time to 
call for help before he was killed.
      “Saru, be still! It is only me!”
      Saru blinked, and he was at last able to make out the form of his mother, of 
Annaleh. She was crouching beside him, holding his knife. “What- why are you…” Saru 
shook his head. “Is there a problem? Am I needed?”
      “The only problem is with you, and yes, you’re needed. I need you.” Annaleh 
adjusted her position until she was sitting beside her son. “Saru, what are you doing here? 
Why can’t you grieve among your family and friends?”
      Saru stared at her, then whispered, “I don’t want to hurt Kehydi, our children, or 
you. I must be strong so that everyone will heal.” He closed his eyes. “Just as you were 
for Malacai, I am Kehydi’s strength. He needs to be able to lean on me. I am the only one 
he can truly lean on without feeling less like a man, or feeling unequal to the challenges 
that have been set before him.” He had turned from her, shutting her out in every way he 
could think of. “I will be fine, Mother. Don’t worry about me.”
      “It is in my nature to worry,” Annaleh answered. “And if I drew Aragorn out of 
his inner cave so he could grieve properly, what’s to stop me from working on you? I will 
not let any of my family distance themselves. Not only is that not the Dunedain way, not 
only is it one way to do the Shadow’s work, but it is not my way. I will not abandon you, 
or even give you a moment’s peace, until you agree to come back to camp, deal with the 
fact that you need not be perfect all the time, and grieve with the rest of us.”
      Saru still wasn’t looking at her, and Annaleh grasped his chin, forcing him to do 
so. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that you’re destroying yourself, making a hole in the 
relationships with your husband and children, and that you are opening yourself up to all 
sorts of danger, not to mention temptation?” She shook her head. “Saru, stop playing the 
untouchable, world-wise man. You know just as much as the rest of us, and no more.” 
Saru opened his mouth, but she forestalled him. “Listen to me, Saru. If you would grieve 
with the rest of us, I promise your grief will ease much more quickly. If for no other 
reason than to end your own suffering, come back.” She added, seeing that she was 
getting through to him, “And also think of the hole in our defenses you are leaving by 
hiding away by yourself. You are right about one thing, Saru: we need you. But we need 
you with us, not as a protector that stands between us and the Shadow, but as a soldier 
who will stand, shoulder-to-shoulder, with us.”
      Saru whispered, “I’ve been selfish.” He looked at her, tears filling his eyes. 
Suddenly, he collapsed into her arms and let her hold him. “Thank you,” he whispered.
      Annaleh rubbed his back and murmured, “What are mothers for?”
***
      Glorfindel lay awake long after Elladan had fallen asleep. The Balrog Slayer 
couldn’t sleep. The Ring was too close. Sauron was too close. Glorfindel struggled 
against an urge to wake Elladan. He struggled against an equally powerful urge to leap 
out of bed, rush to Elrohir’s rooms, and make sure that his lover’s twin was well. ‘I am 
only being foolish. The Ring has only been here for a few days. And it will leave again 
soon. Once Elrond calls a council, and they decide to send the Ring away- for they cannot 
keep it here, and Elrond knows that, as does Gandalf- then the Ring will be gone. Elrohir 
can hold out for a little while, surely. And Elladan has given all of his energy over to 
healing Frodo. He needs to rest and recover.’
      Forcibly, Glorfindel turned his thoughts in other directions. ‘Why was Elladan 
asking about Gondolin? He has never asked, even though he has had many 
opportunities.’ Glorfindel swallowed, and couldn’t keep the truth from his mind. ‘Elladan 
asks because he senses the power of the Ring. He knows that Imladris could fall. He 
knows we might not be able to fight it this time, with the Dark Lord so close at hand.’
      Shivering, Glorfindel sat up abruptly, not caring if he awoke Elladan. He rose and 
crossed the room to the large window. Thrusting open the shutters, Glorfindel leaned out 
as far as he could, drinking in the free, clear air. But the room behind him, and the house 
around him, brooded with echoes of his fears. Glorfindel turned his eyes to the morning 
star, and groaned softly when he saw that the star was slowly being devoured by a cloud. 
Perhaps it was only an omen, but Glorfindel had been around for far too long to take such 
things lightly. He turned from the window, leaving the shutters open. He crossed to the 
chair where he had dumped his clothes. When he was dressed, he found his knives, then 
came to stand beside the bed where Elladan still slept. Glorfindel contemplated the 
relaxed face of his husband. ‘I won’t wake him. Let me go to someone who has rested a 
little more than Elladan for help. Besides, I cannot bear to think of Sauron getting to 
Elladan in his exhausted state.’ Glorfindel bent, kissed Elladan’s cheek, and strode 
briskly from the room. Outside the door, he took out a key and locked Elladan in. His 
lover had a similar key, and could unlock the door from the inside, but no one else could 
get in. Glorfindel touched the door lightly with the tips of his fingers. ‘Hopefully, 
Elladan, I’m just being too nervous, and I’ll be back before the sun rises.’
***
      In his room, Aragorn found no rest in the bed he’d slept in as a young man. The 
house moved and settled around him, and Aragorn wondered if it was only his 
imagination that made the noises sound threatening. ‘I have not been unsettled by night 
noises since I was seven or eight years old!’ Aragorn sat up in bed and swung his legs 
over the side. ‘If that is true, then what I am feeling now must have a real source.’ He 
slipped into his boots- he hadn’t even bothered to take his clothes off- and stood. 
Buckling on his sword, he turned his eyes to the door of his room. ‘One thing is certain; I 
cannot stay here. I must try and see if I can figure out where this feeling is coming from.’ 
Aragorn strode to the door and reached for the knob.
      Someone knocked on the other side of the door, and Aragorn’s heart froze for an 
instant before stumbling forward at an insane pace. Aragorn drew his sword, took a half 
step back, and yanked the door open.
      “Aii!” Glorfindel’s hands came up, his knives flashing in the starlight from the 
open window in the corridor behind him. When the Balrog Slayer saw it was only Estel, 
he relaxed, though he didn’t put his knives away. “What are you doing, Estel? Are you 
playing hide and seek?”
      Aragorn grimaced. “I don’t have time for this, Glor-”
      Glorfindel put the knife in his right hand away and touched Aragorn’s arm. “I’m 
sorry, Aragorn; that was unkind of me. It is only that I am nervous. Something preys on 
my mind, and I came to ask you to help me discover what it may be.”
      Aragorn’s expression changed from irritation to one of concern. “You feel it as 
well.” He sighed. “I cannot name it, either, but I would rather have someone to search it 
out with than to do so on my own.” He stepped out into the hall. “Where would you 
start?”
      “I must check and see if Elrond and Elrohir are well.”
      “Is Elladan still asleep?”
      “Aye; he needs the rest desperately.” Glorfindel asked, “Will you check on 
Frodo? I do not yet know him well enough to barge into his room unannounced. We can 
meet at the door to Elrohir’s rooms, if you’d like.”
      Aragorn considered that, thinking of how he would be alone near the Ring, and 
squared his shoulders, determined not to follow Isildur’s example. “Be careful, 
Glorfindel. And please, if I don’t come within five minutes of your arrival, come and find 
me. I do not know my own strength, or lack thereof, around the Ring.”
      “Didn’t you bring the Ring and its Bearer safely from Bree to Imladris without 
falling under the Ring’s spell?”
      “Aye, but I am not such a great fool to think that success once will mean success 
again.”
      “You’ve gained more than years on your shoulders, Estel. I can see so much of 
the famous men of Numenor in you.” Glorfindel touched Aragorn’s shoulder briefly, and 
the two parted.
***
      When Aragorn slipped into the room, he saw Frodo and Sam at once. Frodo was 
curled up against Sam, his eyes closed and lips slightly puckered. He was definitely 
asleep. But Sam looked up at Strider, his gaze uncertain. Aragorn felt sorry for the 
gardener-hobbit; he had never wanted an adventure. All he wanted was to serve Frodo to 
the best of his ability.
      ‘Bilbo was one of the few hobbits not to keep slaves,’ Aragorn thought as he 
studied the scene before him. ‘He kept them before he met Gandalf, but changed his mind 
after that little journey to the Lonely Mountain. Hamfast and his family were never 
Bilbo’s slaves, just his servants, and servants they have remained.’
      Sam cleared his throat. “Is there something you need Mister Strider?”
      Aragorn stepped out of the shadows. “I just wanted to make sure you and Frodo 
were all right.”
      “We’re right as rain. He’s finally sleeping, which is a relief and no mistake, but 
he’ll be fine. Do you know what happens now?”
      Aragorn blinked. It wasn’t like Sam to ask a question about the future. “Well, 
soon we’ll have a council to decide what’s going to happen. As soon as that’s decided, 
we’ll move on from there.”
      “Will Mr. Frodo have to keep carrying the Ring?”
      Aragorn shook his head. “I don’t know, Sam. I hope that his part in this tale is 
over.” He turned towards the door. “I have to go. Lord Glorfindel and I are checking the 
perimeter for signs of the Nine.”
      “The only nice thing about all this nasty business is that the elves don’t mind if I 
hold Mr. Frodo’s hand,” Sam said quietly from the bed.
      Aragorn froze for an instant, then grasped the doorknob. “Sleep well, Sam. Things 
will make more sense in the morning.” He left, refusing to think about what he’d just 
heard. After all, Sam could mean exactly what he’d said, not a thing more. ‘Or he could 
mean that he loves Frodo and wants-’ Aragorn stopped the thought right there. ‘I have 
work to do.’ As he strode down the corridor, he realised one thing: the Ring hadn’t so 
much as called to him, let alone tempted him. Perhaps it was sleeping.
      ‘Unlikely. It probably knows that I was watching and didn’t wish to rouse my 
suspicions.’ Aragorn picked up his pace, nearly sprinting towards Elrohir’s room.
***
      Elrond was deep in conference with Gandalf. The two of them sat on either side 
of the fire that Glorfindel himself had shared with Elrond not so long ago. Elrond was 
staring moodily into the flames as Gandalf spoke. When Glorfindel gave his perfunctory 
knock before entering, Elrond straightened at once, while Gandalf showed no intention of 
changing his musing, half-slumped position.
      “My lords, something walks in Imladris,” Glorfindel began after offering them a 
slight bow. “I feel it like ice on my skin.”
      “The One Ring is here, Glorfindel, as you well know,” Elrond answered. “Perhaps 
it is only that which troubles you.”
      “I pray it is so, my lord, but I fear it is much more. Estel has also felt something, 
and has gone to check on the hobbits. We are to meet at Elrohir’s room.”
      Elrond stood. “Do you suspect something regarding my son?”
      “I am only worried that he will be easier to persuade, my lord, because he has 
been attacked before.”
      Elrond started towards the door. “So has Elladan. We must-”
      “Elladan rests peacefully,” said Gandalf, rising more slowly to his feet. “I suggest 
we go straight to Elrohir’s room.”
      Elrond spun towards the wizard. “I would be more concerned about Aragorn. Men 
are so easily tempted-”
      “Yet, Aragorn has come a long way. Elrohir is our concern now.” Gandalf 
brushed past the Elda as if he, Gandalf the Grey, were master of the Last Homely House. 
      Seeking the safety and strength that Gandalf promised, Glorfindel fell into step 
behind him. Elrond frowned, then began to walk briskly so that he strode beside the 
wizard. “I hope you are right about this, Mithrandir. I would hate to think that your trust 
and surety had been misplaced.”
      “Aragorn is not the boy you knew,” Gandalf answered shortly. His strides grew 
longer. “And I fear that Glorfindel’s feelings are not unfounded.”
***
      Elladan snapped awake, and he sat up, his heart pounding and his hands shaking. 
‘Elrohir!’ He closed his eyes, turning his sight inward, searching for the bond with his 
brother. It was still there, but dimmer, as if something blocked it.
      Centering himself, Elladan shouted in his mind, ‘Elrohir! Elrohir, can you hear 
me?’ His brother didn’t answer, but a cold, terrible laugh froze Elladan’s blood.
      ‘He will only hear you as I wish him to hear you.’
      Elladan balled his hands into fists and turned his mind from Elrohir. He couldn’t 
fight Sauron on his own. ‘Glorfindel! Glor-’
      ‘He can’t hear you, son of Elrond. Just as Elrohir cannot be reached, you cannot 
reach out.’
***
      ‘Now is the time, Elrohir. Rise and take your discovery to your brother. He calls 
for you, and needs you to answer him.’
      Elrohir sat up, his smile gleeful. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and 
stood.
      But dizziness assailed him and he fell back, groaning. Instinctively, he reached 
out with his mind. ‘Elladan? Elladan, are you there?’ His brother didn’t answer. ‘Panic 
rose in Elrohir’s mind, threatening to push out the presence there. ‘Where is he? Why 
can’t I reach him?’
      ‘He’s in pain,’ the invading voice answered. ‘He needs you now, Elrohir. Go to 
him. Teach him about the dance of the shadows. Please help him before it’s too late. He 
might even try to commit suicide. I hate to tell you this, but you were right about 
Glorfindel’s influence. It has saved Elladan for a while, but now Elladan seeks something 
else. He needs the comfort that only his brother’s presence can offer. Please help him, 
Elrohir. Your brother calls out to you.’
      Before he gave over control completely, Elrohir tried one last time. ‘Why can’t I 
reach him? Why can’t he hear me?’
      ‘Glorfindel has poisoned him against you. Elladan can’t get the help he really 
needs.’
      Elrohir clenched his hands into fists. ‘I’ll kill Glorfindel. It was his duty to protect 
Elladan.’
      ‘It was his duty when he was still a slave. Now that he is free, he can hurt or help 
anyone he wishes to. But Glorfindel is not your concern right now. You need to help 
Elladan before he gives up all desire to live.’
      ‘I’m on my way.’ Elrohir went to the balcony. ‘I can’t get to of my room, can I?’
      ‘No. They are coming for you, to stop you from saving Elladan. Your door is 
locked, yes?’
      ‘Yes.’
      ‘Then they will be stalled for a time as they try to get in. Climb quickly from your 
balcony to Elladan’s. He does not lock his outer doors. Glorfindel didn’t think of the 
possibility of attack from the balcony. He is weak that way.’
***
      Elladan struggled to gain his feet. If he couldn’t call Glorfindel, he was resolved 
to find his lover without that power. He staggered towards the door as the room spun 
around him.
      ‘Where are you going?’ the voice in his mind asked.
      “Fuck off.” Elladan stared fixedly at the door to his chambers. He would be there 
in another few steps.
      ‘Glorfindel has left you to face the night alone. Why would you call to him now?’
      ‘He must have sensed you, Sauron. He left me here because I was safe, or so he 
thought. He knows I am…’
      ‘Tired? That is what you were going to say, yes? It does not matter if you were 
strong and ready for me, Elladan; I would still find a way to control you.’
      ‘Tired as I am, I’m still fighting you.’ Elladan’s hand trembled as he reached for 
the doorknob. His fingers touched the cool metal.
      Behind him, something made a noise scarcely louder than a spider walking on 
water. Elladan tried to spin around, but Sauron kept his movements slow.
      In an instant, arms encircled Elladan’s waist and a voice whispered in his ear, 
“Elladan? My brother, my dear heart, are you all right?”
      Elladan struggled weakly in Elrohir’s embrace. “Please, Elrohir, let me go,” he 
whispered. “Let me go. Sauron is trying to control you and-”
      “It is not Sauron who is the threat,” Elrohir murmured, his lips an inch from 
Elladan’s neck. “Glorfindel has done this to us. He has broken our bond.” His lips 
brushed lightly against Elladan’s neck. The older twin shivered. “Luckily, I know a way 
to reforge the bond.”
      “No, Elrohir… please listen…”
      “I am listening, Elladan. And in my mind all I hear is the emptiness that comes 
when I am separated from you. We must fix that. I cannot live without my brother.” He 
closed the distance, stealing his brother’s breath with a soul-kiss.
      Elladan struggled in his arms, but he was losing his strength. He couldn’t fight 
against both Sauron and Elrohir. ‘Glorfindel… Glorfindel…’
***
      Glorfindel glanced from the closed door of Elrohir’s room to Gandalf. “I don’t 
know if he’s in there. If he is, then we must speak with him. But if he isn’t- if he left the 
room by some other route- we are wasting valuable time. He might attack anyone.”
      “A moment ago you weren’t eve sure if there was really anything in Imladris or 
not!” Elrond exclaimed.
      “He is right to believe that the Shadow has come,” Gandalf said. “If it were ink, 
you would see it staining the floor at our feet and the very door of your son’s room.” 
Gandalf looked to Glorfindel. “Something else troubles you.”
      “I don’t want to wait the five minutes for Aragorn. I fear for him, strong though 
he is.”
      “Then go find him. We will remain here and gain entrance to Elrohir’s room.”
      “Wait!” exclaimed Elrond before Glorfindel could leave. “Once you have found 
Aragorn, and if all is well, please check on Elladan for me. It would ease my mind to 
know he is safe.”
      “I will, my lord.” Glorfindel sprinted down the corridor. Gandalf and Elrond 
turned to the thick, oaken door.
      “Shall we use magic or a sword?” Elrond asked.
***
      Elrohir licked Elladan’s ear. “I love you, dear heart,” he whispered as his fingers 
played with Elladan’s nipples. “I love you more than anyone else can or ever will. I am 
your twin, Elladan. We will always be inseparable.” He dipped his head down and 
suckled at the pulse on the side of Elladan’s neck. “Do you love me, Brother?”
      Elladan’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. His strength had abandoned him, 
leaving him powerless and only wishing to get this over with as quickly as possible. 
“Yes…”
      Elrohir sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head. “Tell me how beautiful I am, 
Elladan.”
      “Very beautiful,” answered his twin in an emotionless voice.
      Elrohir stood and removed his leggings. As he stripped, he gazed at his already-
naked brother. “As beautiful as you, my dear heart.” Naked, he came back to the bed and 
covered Elladan completely with his own body. “We are of one flesh, you and I, and 
should be of one mind also. Do you agree?”
      “Yes.”
      “You are so precious to me, dear heart. I cannot live without you. And you cannot 
live without me. Is that so?”
      “Yes.”
      Elrohir kissed Elladan in that deep and searching way. His hardening elfhood 
throbbed against Elladan’s stomach. Coming up for air, Elrohir whispered, “We are one 
flesh, brother mine, and we should be of one mind, also. Would you ever want to be on a 
different side than me?”
      “No.”
      Elrohir smiled and ran his hands over Elladan’s chest. “Nor would I want to be 
separated from you by battle or others getting in our way. That is why we must join in 
every way. If we don’t join, Elladan, we could be separated. Is that what you want?”
      “No.”
      Elrohir laughed. “Luckily, we have a trick, don’t we? We can stay together no 
matter what changes around us. I will see to that.” Elrohir sat back and gazed at Elladan’s 
limp member. “Aii, Elladan, your elfhood is shriveled and dead. Why aren’t you 
excited?”
      Elladan whimpered and tears filled his eyes.
      Elrohir bent forward at once and kissed his brother, first on the cheek, then on his 
mouth. “I’m not angry with you, my dear heart. I could never be angry with you. I am 
sure that whatever Glorfindel did to our bond is affecting your body as well. It does not 
affect me because I have not been near him, and because I have always been the 
stronger.”
      A flicker of angry strength urged Elladan to say, “Glorfindel would not hurt me.” 
How dare Elrohir insult the most amazing, gentle, glorious elf to ever walk Middle-
Earth?
      Elrohir sighed. “Oh, dear heart, do you truly still trust him? He has really hurt 
you. And once we are one, as we were when we were children, I will put an end to 
Glorfindel’s meddling. He will never influence my own dear heart again.” Elrohir kissed 
Elladan, then began to nibble downwards towards his elfhood.
      Elladan flinched a little, but one look into Elrohir’s eyes stilled him again.
      ‘Glorfindel, I love you, but I am lost. Come to me, Glorfindel.’
      ‘Glorfindel cannot hear you. Only I can. And, through me, Elrohir hears as well.’
      The shock that ran through Elladan as he realised the full meaning of Sauron’s 
words was hard to control. But he hid it well and shouted in his mind, riding on the 
connection Sauron had forged and polluted. ‘Elrohir, son of Elrond, grandson of 
Galadriel, attend me! The Dark Lord seeks to take u both under His control. There we 
will languish, but we will not die. We will turn into wraiths or orcs, and will long for 
death long before death finds us.’
      Sauron screamed, drowning Elladan’s message. Elladan continued to ‘shout’ 
nonetheless, praying something of what he had said would make it through to his brother.
      For an instant, something seemed to get through, for Elrohir paused in his 
enthusiastic licking of Elladan’s member. But then he sighed. “Oh, Elladan, I can see that 
this first time cannot be pleasurable for you. You are not ready to take what I am 
offering.” Elrohir put two of his own fingers in his mouth, then slipped then both inside 
his brother.
      Elladan tightened instantly at the invasion.
      “Aii, dear heart, I am sorry this is going to be hard for you.” Elrohir moved his 
fingers about, stretching Elladan inside, and then withdrew them. “There’s no use in 
preparing you more than that. I can see that you are going to fight me every step of the 
way.” Elrohir took himself in his hand. “I love you, Elladan. Never forget that.” He 
positioned himself at Elladan’s entrance and thrust in, dipping his head down to cover 
Elladan’s mouth with his own.
      Elladan screamed, but Elrohir’s mouth swallowed his cries of pain. And in the 
elder twin’s mind, Sauron crowed with triumph.
***
      Glorfindel met Aragorn as the Ranger stepped out of Frodo’s room. Aragorn saw 
Glorfindel, saw the fear in his eyes, and held up a hand, stalling the elf-lord for a 
moment. Then the man closed the door, grasped Glorfindel’s arm, and led him down the 
corridor a little ways. Only when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard did Aragorn 
turn to Glorfindel. “What is it?” the Ranger asked, his eyes flashing.
      Glorfindel took in a breath and let it out. “Nothing, Es- Aragorn.” Something in 
the man’s manner urged him to use the name the man had been born with, the name that 
meant king. “I was only worried about you. I didn’t want to wait the five minuets. Elrond 
and Gandalf are trying to get into Elrohir’s room. Elrond asked me to go with you back to 
my room and find Elladan. He is very worried about his son.”
      Aragorn felt a sense of unreality stealing over him. ‘Maybe that has something to 
do with what I just heard Sam say,’ the Ranger thought. ‘But whatever it is, whatever is 
causing it, I can’t let it stop me, or slow me down. All of this is real. Too real to ignore.’
      “Let’s go check on Elladan. He can even come with us to see Elrohir. Maybe he’ll 
be able to help.”
      Glorfindel fell into step beside the man. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone. 
Maybe…”
      “What’s done is done. Let’s fix what we can fix and move on,” Aragorn 
suggested. His voice was firm, his tone edged with unyielding determination, but the 
hand he laid on Glorfindel’s shoulder was gentle and reassuring.
      Glorfindel drew strength from Aragorn’s words, no matter how harsh and 
impatient they sounded. ‘To do otherwise would be to paralyze myself.’ He kept quiet for 
a moment, but knew he must speak before they reached the room he shared with Elladan. 
“The Ring cannot stay here, Aragorn. Some of us hoped otherwise, but Imladris will go 
the way of Gondolin if the evil is not removed.”
      “I think the evil has to be more than removed. As long as Sauron lives, He will 
have a foothold here. Even if we killed his followers, he would still find a way to enter 
here.”
      Suddenly wary, and knowing that he must speak now or it would likely be too 
late, Glorfindel stopped walking. “What has happened to you, Estel?” he cried. “You 
speak of killing your brothers with all the casualness of plotting their defeat in a chess 
match!” His light flashed in his eyes and his hand dipped down to the knife at his hip.
      Aragorn had walked on a few paces alone before stopping. He said softly, his 
back to the Balrog Slayer, “I don’t want to kill anyone, Glorfindel. All I want is peace for 
Imladris, for Middle-Earth, and for me. But the closer we get to your rooms, the more 
sure I become that Elladan and Elrohir have been taken by the Dark Lord. And I’m afraid 
we won’t be able to bring them back.” Now he did turn, and his gaze was like flint, fully 
the rival of Glorfindel’s own. “But I know also that if Elladan and Elrohir died, Sauron 
would take Elrond. And maybe even try to take you. He would almost surely take me, 
even, or perhaps especially, if I was the one who killed my brothers. So I am not 
suggesting that anyone should die. I am only saying that removing the Ring from 
Imladris may remove the immediate threat, but not until Sauron is dead will Elladan and 
Elrohir be free.” He drew his sword. “We go to a battle, Glorfindel. Promise me only that 
you will stand against the Shadow, whatever form it may take, and I will promise not to 
strike before I am absolutely sure of what must be done.”
      “Aragorn, I hate it when there are no easy answers. Not that there have ever been, 
but in the past I was able to make decisions without thinking on them, and they turned out 
right.” He began to walk again, and Aragorn kept pace beside him. “What has changed?”
      “Before, you were protected, and your decisions were turned to good. So were 
mine at one time. But now we’ve been given the ability to reason without being 
completely blinded by our own feelings. Now we have the responsibility of weighing 
decisions.” Aragorn reached down and squeezed Glorfindel’s hand. “I don’t know who 
was helping us before, but we’re on our own now.” He paused, listening to the staccato 
rhythm of their steps. ‘Like soldiers marching off to battle,’ he thought, and he felt the 
cold battle-calm begin to descend over him. Before it could completely wrap around him, 
Aragorn whispered, “Just because Sauron’s influence can’t be utterly destroyed until He 
Himself is dead, it doesn’t follow that all we do now is hopeless. With your help, Elladan 
brought much life back to this valley. And with Elladan’s help Elrohir began to heal. And 
my ada was purified enough to be in a position to help Frodo. There is still hope.”
      Glorfindel said, “When you become King, Aragorn, I will be the first to bow at 
your feet. You are a great and honorable ruler, and all must long to follow you.”
      The battle-calm had utterly engulfed Aragorn, and so where he might normally 
have spoken- speeches seemed to come easily to him; perhaps that was part of the reason 
he was meant to be king- he kept his peace and simply nodded at his fellow soldier.
***
      Prince Legolas rode over the ford, his eyes questing everywhere for enemies. He 
could feel the recent departure of the Nine like a tickle at the back of his mind, but he 
knew they were gone and so didn’t waste time or energy worrying about them. No, what 
concerned him was the stealthy creeping of darkness over the House before him.
      ‘There was a time, not long ago, when the Darkness was forced from this place. 
But some evil came in, was let in willingly, in fact, and now the safety of Rivendell 
stands upon the edge of a knife.’
      But even in the terrible darkness, Legolas sensed several bright places that 
refused, at least for now, to be swallowed up. The sense of them reminded Legolas of 
Dunedain fires flickering and shuddering on a windy night. Each threatened to go out at 
any moment, but somehow stayed burning. He didn’t know who all the lights in Imladris 
were, but he identified two of them at once. One almost surely belonged to Glorfindel. 
Even after all this time Legolas knew the touch of his Light; it had felt like a calming 
hand on his shoulder when he first came to Imladris at a young age. 
      And Legolas felt Aragorn’s strong, calm presence as a light that almost rivaled 
Glorfindel’s in intensity. Legolas urged Esteldil on towards the Last Homely House.
      ‘I’m coming, Aragorn. I’ll fight the Shadow with you, at least this once. Just hold 
on until I get there.’
***
      Elrohir thrust with the intensity of driving a sword into an enemy’s unprotected 
throat. His brother hadn’t passed out, but he’d stopped screaming. He didn’t seem to have 
the strength to do more than whimper. Elrohir had responded to this happy occurrence by 
using the extra leverage of his arms and his upper body to bury himself deeper and still 
deeper in his victim. He could feel his climax coming and struggled both to hold it off 
and to make it as all-consuming as possible.
      Elladan’s member hadn’t so much as twitched, which angered Elrohir, and so he 
thrust even harder, cursing his brother now. “You’re such a weak little whore,” he said 
over and over. “At least pretend to enjoy this. I won’t stop until you’ve felt some 
pleasure.” That last was only an empty threat, however, and Elrohir knew it. He would 
continue to rape Elladan, yes, and with joy and pleasure he would reach each orgasm. But 
he would have to rest after each climax, and couldn’t keep taunting and tempting Elladan 
while he recovered. ‘And while I rest, regaining my excitement and determination, 
Elladan will rest and regain his strength a little. That I cannot allow.’
      ‘I can drive you further than you thought you would ever go,’ Sauron soothed 
him. ‘And once we have Glorfindel, we can use him to tempt Elladan. Your dear heart 
fights this, but he would instantly become your whore in every way if you would but 
threaten Glorfindel once.’
	‘I want him to love me for me!’ Elrohir cried. ‘All I want is to protect him 
always.’
      ‘You cannot protect him while Glorfindel lives. Elladan will always want to get 
back to him.’
      ‘Are you saying I’m not good enough for my brother?’
      ‘Compared to Glorfindel, no, you are not good enough.’
      Elrohir snarled. Pausing mid-thrust (his pleasure pushed back a little by his fury) 
he struck Elladan in his frustration. “How is Glorfindel so much better than me? What 
does he have that I don’t?”
      Elladan blinked up at him. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth. The eldest 
son of Elrond had retreated into himself long enough to gain a tiny bit of strength. And 
there, as he tried to hide himself from the world, he found a kernel of truth: Glorfindel 
loved him, and would always love him, no matter what. Elladan had brought that surety 
from his secret place into the world where he had to deal with pain and grief and terror. 
Speaking quietly, Elladan announced, “He truly loves me, and he is not Sauron’s puppet. 
That is how he is better than you.”
      Before Elrohir could respond, Sauron spoke in his mind again, soothing him. 
‘Soon, Glorfindel will be nothing. I will help you kill him. But until he is dead, there is 
one way you can ensure Elladan will stay with you.’
      Elrohir grinned. Elladan, who had felt almost strong for a moment, shrank from 
that grin. ‘Only tell me what I must do.’
      ‘Reach your climax. Impregnate Elladan with your child. Then he will be forever 
bound to you. If you kill Glorfindel before impregnating Elladan, then Elladan might die 
of grief. But you can bind him to Middle-Earth with a child. Then he will have no choice 
but to turn to you for aid. But you must hurry. Even now our enemies approach.’
      Elrohir began to thrust into Elladan with reckless abandon, no longer caring for 
the orgasm in itself but for the power that would come to him through his release.