You Are Still The One

Title: You Are Still The One.

Author: Morgana

Website; http://www.avalon.cobweb.nl/
Pairing(s): Glorfindel/Erestor, Elrond/Elros
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Elladan happens upon an injured half-Elf with amnesia and Elrond volunteers to care for the poor soul. Elladan is determined to find the perpetrators and endangers his own life/safety in doing so.

Disclaimer: These characters are all Tolkien’s.
Warning: AU

Author’s Note: Beta read by Aduial, thanks so much! And a thank you to Ilye, for her help.

You Are Still The One.

Glorfindel’s heart felt burdened and heavy, seeing the hard and grim expression on Elladan’s gaunt face. Elrohir had also wanted to accompany them on tonight’s patrol, but Elrond had put his foot down, demanding one of his sons remained behind in the Last Homely House. And Glorfindel understood Elrond’s concern perfectly well.

The twins had become unpredictable since losing their mother. Unpredictable, rash, and aggressive. They practically radiated a sense of doom and depression. Glorfindel sighed deeply, knowing their dark mood would continue for quite some time; healing from such deep wounds took time.

“Why aren’t there any Orcs about to slay?” Elladan hissed the words from between clenched teeth. Constantly scanning his surroundings with his sharp Elven sight, one hand continued to rest on the grip of his sword, ready to draw it at the first sight of Orcs.

“Elrohir and you already slew a large number of Orcs during these last few years, Elladan. They know better now than to pass Imladris’ borders.” And yet, once in a while, the vile creatures still attempted to penetrate the lands. But the number of their attempted invasions had dwindled remarkably. The last time they had happened upon a last pack of Orcs had been one year ago.

/The twins slaughtered them ruthlessly./ Glorfindel had led the patrol that day and the Orcs’ attack had taken them by surprise. But the twins had reacted the fastest, and had launched a counter attack. Before the Orcs knew what was happening to them, most had been beheaded or had their chests ripped open by sharp swords. Watching the twins kill one Orc after another had scared even Glorfindel.

Looking at Elladan now, he found the twin’s brow furrowed, lips drawn into a narrow line and the eyes burning feverishly. /Regardless of the number of Orcs that you slay, Elladan, you won’t find peace of mind that way./ He had told the twins that before, but they weren’t ready to accept the truth. They had simply walked away, calling their former teacher a fool. “If everything goes well and we don’t run into Orcs, we will be home again in the morning.”

Elladan glared at him, and Glorfindel stopped himself from flinching at the expression in those stormy gray eyes. Pain and hurt were hidden beneath the wrath. If only he knew how to lessen that pain! But the twins wouldn’t let him. Not even Elrond had found a way into their hearts. This was a wound only time could heal and, in the meantime, they had to stand by the twins and Arwen and support them in whatever way possible.

“I don’t desire to return home,” hissed Elladan. “I want to stay on the roads and take out more Orcs!”

Glorfindel shook his head slightly, but remained silent, knowing from experience that Elladan would mock his words. /You need to release that pain, Elladan, and to finally allow it in./ Instead of working through the loss and pain, the twins had turned that anger on themselves, bottling it up inside. “We should make camp here for the remainder of the night. None of our scouts have sighted Orcs so we can assume that we are safe.”

Elladan shook his head firmly. “I will continue to search our surroundings!” He pushed his heels deeply into his horse’s flanks and took off before Glorfindel had a chance to command him to stay.

“Damn!” The Captain cursed seldom, but this occasion seemed to warrant it. “You two,” Glorfindel said, addressing his two most trusted guards, “Follow him and make sure he stays out of trouble!” After a moment’s thought, he added, “And remain hidden! If he sees you, he will have your hides!” /And mine as well, for sending you!/

The two guards left quickly and Glorfindel told the rest of the patrol to make camp and to create a small fire. He remained seated on Asfaloth, wanting to make one more round to make sure there were no immediate threats, and he spurred Asfaloth on. Understanding his master’s intention, the stallion trod silently and carefully. A moment later, Glorfindel vanished from his men’s view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elladan instinctively knew that guards were following him, but he ignored them for now. Glorfindel’s sense of protectiveness felt smothering at times, but he also understood the Captain acted out of concern for his well-being. The last thing Glorfindel wanted was to have to carry the news of his death to the Lord of Imladris.

The image of Glorfindel informing Elrond of his son’s demise made him cringe, and Elladan calmed down. /Adar wouldn’t survive losing Elrohir or I./ He knew that with certainty and that knowledge convinced him to proceed more cautiously. Elrond’s state of mind was fragile at best, much like his sons’, and he should be careful not to worsen their emotional distress.

Now that his raging emotions had lost their bite, he told his horse to slow down, and a moment later, he slid out of the saddle. His feet met solid ground and the contact with the earth soothed him further. Although he was only half-Elven, a deep and sincere sense of nature had always been a part of him. Absentmindedly -- still lost in his musings -- he began to walk toward a shallow stream to his right. The soft whispering of the water made him sigh deeply, and he sat down, first removing his boots and then his socks. Letting his feet dangle in the cold water, he finally managed to sort out his emotional turmoil.

He missed his mother. Celebrían had left behind a void in his life when she had sailed for the Undying Lands. In a way he understood why she had left, but that still didn’t make it right. Elladan still believed that their love would have helped Celebrían heal, but their mother had given up. Elrond, Elrohir, Arwen and he had wept when she had told them that she was leaving for Aman. No matter what they had said in order to stop her, she had dismissed it and had left quietly, leaving behind three lives in turmoil. Yes, Elrond had done his best to console them, but their father had also been hurting and had burst out into tears. In the end, they had huddled close, hugging tightly in an effort to offer each other the much needed comfort. But it hadn’t been enough -- it never was enough.

A soft whimper, unexpectedly rising from the dark of night, drew Elladan’s attention. His hand went to his sword, and he rose from the grass soundlessly, trying to pinpoint the direction the sound had come from. Stealthily, he sneaked closer to a group of old trees, from where the sound had originated. He halted in his tracks when another whimper floated through the air. Someone was in pain -- in need of help -- and the sound almost catapulted him back to the moment when they had come upon Celebrían, bleeding and hurting. He shook his head in order to rid himself of that distressing image, and then narrowed his eyes to focus better. In spite of the dense darkness, he made out a form on the forest floor, curled up in a fetal position.

He took a moment to allow his Elven senses to scan his immediate surroundings. Except for the two guards behind him, and the huddled form in front of him, he was alone. No Orcs or other vermin were close. A hard groan cut through the air, and Elladan sheathed his sword, realizing he was in no immediate danger. Moving closer to the whimpering form, he halted once he stood beside the injured person. He sat on his heels and slowly extended a hand to gain a better view of this mysterious stranger. Behind him the two guards revealed themselves, stepping away from the bushes, but Elladan continued to ignore them.

“I am a friend,” he said in the Common Tongue, uncertain of whom he was dealing with. Was this injured person human? Or Elven? He had to find out if he wanted to help. The only answer he received was another moan, and the form shook when he placed a hand on the trembling shoulder. “I can help.”

As he met with no resistance, Elladan slowly and carefully rolled the stranger onto his back, hoping to catch a look of the other’s face; when he did, he released a startled yelp. “By the Valar!” The first thing he noticed was the extensive bruising and dried blood on the face. Bruises, black and heavy, marred the brittle skin, and the tremors worsened beneath his hand. Blood, wet and sticky dripped onto his fingertips as he tried to soothe the injured person. “Please, don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” Dark hair that had shifted away from the face uncovered more of the stranger’s features, revealing slightly pointed ears. /Half-Elven!/ He had stumbled upon a half-Elf!

Looking over his shoulder, Elladan quickly addressed the guards. “Seek Glorfindel and bring him here!” He wasn’t sure he should move his new patient just yet, and the seasoned Captain had more experience when it came down to assessing serious injuries. One guard nodded and hurried away whilst the other remained at a distance, waiting for orders.

Elladan focused his attention back onto the injured half-Elf, and moistened his lips nervously. He had been trained in the art of healing by his father, but had seldom encountered someone as badly mistreated as this half-Elf. The injuries to the face were the first outward signs of damage he had encountered and he wondered what other injures were hidden beneath the tattered clothes.

Elladan prayed that his newest patient would remain calm and placate and wouldn’t struggle once he began tending to those injuries. “I will help you, I promise.” Elladan moved into a kneeling position and gently pulled his patient against him. Weak struggling followed, but the injured half-Elf was in no condition to put up any serious resistance. “Let me help you, my friend.” His heart bled, seeing tremors of fear and pain course through the other half-Elf’s body and he wished he possessed his father’s gift of healing.

The dirty rags that hung loosely around the too skinny body couldn’t possibly offer much protection against the cold of the night. Elladan unclasped his riding cloak, wrapping his charge in the warm fabric. Soft whimpers, pleading moans, and pain-filled groans barely made it past the bruised lips, and Elladan acted instinctively, tenderly rocking his charge. “I will look after you.” He didn’t know why this half-Elf had been so cruelly abused, and he was determined to find and punish the perpetrator.

For one moment his mind flashed back to the moment of finding Celebrían in a similar condition and his hate burned hotly. /Someone will pay for this, I promise!/ In his arms, his charge went limp, and then collapsed against him. The injured half-Elf had lost consciousness, which was a blessing at this point. Now, Elladan had to wait for Glorfindel to join them. Then they could assess the half-Elf’s condition properly and decide on the best course of action.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel hurried to join Elladan, who still sat cross-legged on the forest ground, holding a dirty, limp form in his arms. “What has happened here?” Concerned, he sat on his heels beside Elladan, trying to assess the situation.

“He is hurt -- badly.” Elladan swallowed hard and then looked Glorfindel in the eye. “I saw his ears. He is half-Elven.”

Glorfindel gave Elladan a look, which was hopefully reassuring. “You say injured. In what way is he injured?” Elladan slowly rolled his charge toward him until Glorfindel could see the face. “Oh, by the Valar!” Utterly shocked, he stared at the abused face. “Why? Who?”

“I told the guards to search our surroundings and they are still busy,” said Elladan in a trembling voice. “I stayed with him. He was scared when I touched him; he trembled over his entire body and I didn’t know what to do. I am not certain it is safe to move him.”

Glorfindel gently pushed the dirty, raven hair away from the injured half-Elf’s face and examined their new patient. His face contorted, realizing the severe damage.

“Can we move him?” Elladan didn’t want to admit it, but his memories were getting the better of him. Images of his mother, crying helplessly, tore at his mind. This battered half-Elf was bringing everything back and deepening his pain. He desperately needed to put some distance between them. Maybe then the memories would lessen in intensity.

“We don’t have a choice,” announced Glorfindel in a firm voice. “We must take him to the Last Homely House so your father can attend to his wounds.” Glorfindel fervently hoped that Elrond still possessed the necessary strength to heal this young one. Elrond had become a mere shadow of his former self, mourning losing his wife.

“Can you take him? I am afraid I will hurt him accidentally.” The memories of finding Celebrían in such a similar way were quickly overwhelming him, and the stench of blood that clung to the injured half-Elf made it easier for the horrid images to intrude on him.

Glorfindel read the truth in Elladan’s eyes and he quickly nodded his head, realizing he had to take control. “Bring Asfaloth over here!” One of the guards obeyed and guided the horse close to him. Glorfindel rose from the ground and mounted the stallion. “Place him in front of me.”

Elladan carefully lifted their charge and placed him in front of Glorfindel, relieved to see his former tutor’s arms wrap around their swaying patient.

“I have got him,” said Glorfindel in an effort to reassure Elladan. “Why don’t you remain here and see if you can find tracks of the ones who did this to him? In the meantime, I will take him to your father.”

Elladan nodded, thankful that the memories weren’t that intrusive any more now that he was no longer holding the injured half-Elf. “If there are any tracks, I will find them. This horrendous deed cannot go unpunished.”

“I will take good care of him,” promised Glorfindel, seeing Elladan’s expression. “He is safe with me.”

“Thank you… It is just… This reminds me of… of…” Elladan was unable to finish his sentence, afraid more images would return.

“I understand,” said Glorfindel. “I really do.” He had been there that day when they had found Celebrían and he was also fighting returning memories.

Elladan nodded once more, indicating he understood. “I will find the ones who did this to him. Now go. He needs a healer -- urgently.”

Glorfindel tightened his hold on the unconsciousness stranger and then nodded to the guards, indicating he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. It would take him two hours at least to reach the Last Homely House and he prayed to the Valar that his charge would remain unconsciousness during that time.

Elladan watched them leave. His hands, which had turned into fists behind his back, now opened. /Adar will take good care of him./ Maybe it was because the stranger was a half-Elf as well, or maybe it was the horror he had experienced when seeing the damage done to the other half-Elf, but he had definitely felt some sort of strange connection. /I don’t know who he is, yet I feel worried. More than just worried./ Unable to solve this puzzle, Elladan turned and joined the guards that had remained behind to aid him in his search.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hold on a little longer. Oh, Elbereth, please continue to grant him oblivion!” Glorfindel tightened his hold further when the stranger trembled fiercely against him. He was only a few minutes away from the Last Homely House and the sentries had already noticed his unexpected return. One of Glorfindel’s hands, which rested on the stranger’s hip, felt the hard bone just below the surface of the skin, which was icy cold beneath the rags. His charge was nothing but skin and bones!

“Glorfindel!” Erestor, who had been reading in the library, had seen Glorfindel’s return and had immediately descended the stairs to join the Captain.

“Catch him! Make sure he doesn’t fall!” Glorfindel carefully lowered his charge into Erestor’s arms. Surprise quickly made way for shock on Erestor’s face, and Glorfindel knew the Chief Advisor had also realized how serious these injuries were. “Elladan found him like that. Where is Elrond? This one needs a healer!”

Erestor had also registered the slightly pointed ears and reached the same conclusion Elladan had. “Peredhel.”

“We can discuss his heritage later, Erestor! A healer, now!”

Erestor shook his head. “Elrond is beyond my reach, Glorfindel. He has been in some sort of trance all day long; it began after Elladan left.” Erestor made sure he had a firm hold on the injured half-Elf and then walked toward the healing wing, wondering how to draw Elrond from this hypnotic state. “Glorfindel, go to Elrond and tell him that I am tending to a severely injured half-Elf.”

“You?” Glorfindel frowned deeply. “You aren’t trained in the art of healing.”

“Exactly, and I count on Elrond to remember that as well.” Erestor nodded encouragingly. “Elrond is in his rooms. Make haste whilst I carry our patient to the healers.”

Glorfindel realized Erestor’s advice was wise and sped away, eager to talk to Elrond. Hopefully he would find a way to break this trance his Lord and friend was in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erestor tenderly placed the stranger on one of the cots, and gestured for the healers to bring warm water and a wash cloth. Before Elrond -- or any other of the healers could work on this injured Elf -- the blood and dirt needed to be removed from the face and body. And Erestor intended to perform this duty himself.

Elrohir, who had seen Erestor storm inside with a new patient, immediately joined them. His breath caught, catching sight of the battered half-Elf. “What did they do to him?”

“Help me remove these rags.”

Elrohir used his knife to cut away the dirty fabric and then flung it onto the floor with a look of disdain. It might have been a long undershirt once, but now it was tattered, covered in blood and crusted with dirt and mud. His eyes narrowed, finding the other half-Elf’s entire body stained with bruises and cruelly inflicted cuts from a blunt knife. “We will start by cleaning these up. I hope my father will join us shortly.”

Erestor soaked the wash cloth in tepid water, in which healing herbs floated freely. “So do I, my friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Elrond?” Glorfindel silently entered his Lord’s private chambers and flinched violently, finding Elrond seated on the windowsill, staring outside blankly. “Elrond? We need you.” He came to a standstill next to his friend and rested a hand on Elrond’s shoulder, shaking the narrow form. Ever since Celebrían’s departure Elrond had steadily lost weight. Glorfindel was too scared to think of the possibility of Elrond fading; if the Lord of Imladris succumbed to grief the forces of good would lose a very important battle. They simply couldn’t afford to lose Elrond!

Glorfindel tried again, shaking a bit harder this time. He leaned in closer until he was in Elrond’s immediate view and said, “Elrond, we need you. I brought in a severely wounded half-Elf and we need you! We need your healing skills!” Shaking even harder, he nearly shouted at his friend. “Elrond, come back to us!”

Elrond trembled violently. Spasms rocked his body, but then he blinked, drew in a deep breath and the large, gray eyes finally focused.

“Yes, that’s it. Listen to me. Look at me.” Glorfindel managed to squirm onto the windowsill as well, wrapping one arm loosely around Elrond. They had been friends for so long that they had long done away with formality. Rubbing the skinny back beneath his fingertips, Glorfindel kept the half-Elf’s gaze prisoner, not allowing Elrond to break eye contact now that it had finally been established. “Stay with me.”

Elrond moistened his dry, chapped lips and attempted speech. But as he hadn’t drunk for the last few hours his voice sounded hoarse and unused. “Wounded? Who is?” His brow furrowed. “Half-Elven?”

“Yes, Elladan found an injured half-Elf whilst we were patrolling the borders and I brought him back here. His condition is worrisome to say the least, and he needs your expertise. Will you come with me and care for this poor soul? Erestor said he would look after him, but the both of us know he isn’t talented in the ways of the healer.” Glorfindel left the window sill, giving Elrond the space he needed to unfold his legs. He then assisted Elrond into getting to his feet and steadied him when the Lord of Imladris swayed. Glorfindel bit his bottom lip, trying not to voice his concern.

Elrond drew in a deep breath, and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. “Take me to my patient, Glorfindel. The Valar help him if Erestor tries to ‘heal’ him. Erestor is an excellent Chief Advisor, but healing isn’t one of his talents.”

Glorfindel smiled weakly; Erestor had known that hearing this would convince Elrond to move and cooperate. “I am certain Erestor is doing his best.”

Elrond huffed, clearly not agreeing with his Captain. “We shouldn’t waste precious time.”

Glorfindel’s smile brightened, finding Elrond was taking control of this situation by actually pulling him along. Maybe there was hope for Elrond yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrohir took a step away from the cot and looked at the injured half-Elf. Now that the dirt, blood and mud had been removed from the abused body, he could tell that not a single inch was free of some sort of injury. Anger boiled inside him and he hoped fervently that his twin would track down the perpetrators. “I want to do some serious damage in turn!”

“I know that, Elrohir.” Erestor, seated on one side of the bed, tenderly pushed the now clean strands of raven hair away from the half-Elf’s face. The bruises made it hard to recognize the other Elf’s features and Erestor hoped a full recovery was possible for their charge.

When Elrond entered unexpectedly, Erestor left the bed side and stood back against the wall, giving the healer the space he needed to work in. His gaze met Glorfindel’s and Erestor could still catch a hint of worry in the large, azure eyes. The state Elrond was in worried Glorfindel too. They had to talk about this -- all three of them. Maybe there was a way they could strengthen and support their mourning friend.

“Can you help him?” whispered Glorfindel in a choked voice.

Elrond sat down on the side of the bed and his probing fingers gently examined the injured areas. “Yes, I think so...” Elrond didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as his patient suddenly jerked on the bed, shaking fiercely.

A muffled scream escaped from between the clenched lips and suddenly the injured half-Elf threw himself off of the bed, landing hard on the floor. A chocked wail made it past the bruised lips and the stranger crawled backwards, until he hit the wall. His features contorted with terror and he wrapped his arms around his legs, which he pulled close against his chest. Rocking hard, he buried his face in the space between his knees and chest.

Elrond’s gaze met Glorfindel’s. “I was afraid this would happen.”

“What do we do now?” Elrohir wrung his hands, hating feeling this helpless. There was so little he could do to help!

“Let me try to reach him.” Elrond counted on his healing energy to help him. Hopefully this troubled soul recognized the goodness and his desire to help. Elrond rose from the bed, and remained steady on his feet when he walked over to the trembling half-Elf on the floor. “My name is Elrond,” he said in a comforting tone, which he had only used with his children whenever they had been scared or hurt. “You are safe here.” He sat down cross-legged and repeated his words over and over again. “My name is Elrond. And you are safe here.” Elrond wasn’t even sure his charge understood what he was saying as the rocking and whimpering continued.

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Elrohir.

Elrond asked his son to fetch some calming tea for their patient. Slowly, he inched closer and carefully rested a hand loosely on the injured half-Elf’s back. Another distressed shriek, muffled and chocked, cut through the room, but the stranger didn’t try to move away from him, which encouraged Elrond. “I am here to help, my friend. I am here to help.” Slowly rubbing the bruised back, Elrond managed to move even closer until their bodies touched.

Glorfindel sucked in his breath when the stranger suddenly launched himself at Elrond, possessively wrapping arms and legs around the Lord of Imladris.

“His emotional pain overwhelmed him,” whispered Erestor, who came to a halt behind Glorfindel. His heart went out to this tormented soul.

Elrond managed to compose himself, momentarily stunned by the other Elf’s action. He then brought his arms up behind the stranger’s back and hugged him close, opening his mind in the hope that this poor soul understood he was merely trying to help. “I need to examine your injuries… Do you understand?” The form against him flinched brutally and Elrond’s eyes filled with unshed tears. Pain, suffering and hurt floated into his mind and he had to pull away, or else he would have been overwhelmed by the other Elf’s sorrow.

“I know that you don’t know me and that you have no reason to trust me; and yet I ask of you to trust me.” Surprised, he felt the stranger nod against his chest. “I am a healer, my friend, and I won’t rest until you are well on your way to recovery. Do you believe me?” He opened his mind again, hoping to reassure the other. The stranger’s thoughts were chaotic, and he soothed him to the best of his abilities. “I am here for you. We all are, but you have to trust us.”

“I wonder how Adar is going to do this,” mumbled Elrohir, “He can’t possibly examine him with our patient still conscious. He would panic.”

Erestor blinked, and nodded once. “I know how… Tell the healers to burn the healing herbs; they will know which ones to use. The smoke will sedate him and put him to sleep.”

Elrohir hurried away and Glorfindel gave Erestor a puzzled look. “Maybe you know more about the art of healing than I originally thought.”

“It is just something I once heard of,” said Erestor, unwilling to explain how he had gained this particular knowledge.

Elrond nodded. “Yes, that is excellent thinking, Erestor.” The stranger’s hold on him tightened frantically, and Elrond immediately concentrated on his charge again. “Erestor is a friend – a good friend. And so is Glorfindel. You are among friends.” Relieved, he noticed that the trembling had lessened. “You are safe now. No one will ever hurt you again. We will protect you.” Unexpectedly, the weakened half-Elf sagged against him, losing consciousness once more. “Erestor, Glorfindel, help me return him to the bed.”

The two Elves assisted Elrond and then stood back. Elrond, however, remained in close contact with his patient, guiding the pale face against his chest so he could hold him close.

Erestor, who noticed Elrond’s swimming eyes, moved closer and knelt in front of his friend. “What is it?”

“I felt his despair… his pain, his sorrow. He has suffered greatly!” Releasing his tears, Elrond rocked his charge once more. “So much pain… Such loneliness…”

Glorfindel swallowed hard; a lump of fierce emotions had formed in his throat. “Do you think he understands what we are saying?”

“I do,” said Elrond, softly. Looking at his friends, he moistened his lips and then said, “He will need all the support he can get.”

Erestor nodded once. “He has it.”

Glorfindel sighed, deeply troubled by these recent events. Elrond wasn’t as strong as he appeared, but at least the Elf-Lord was no longer drowning in self-pity. Elrond was so focused on this injured half-Elf that he had pushed back his own pain. “We will stand by him,” Glorfindel promised. /And we will stand by you as well./

Part 2