No Home Here

Chapter Eleven: And About Time!

Elladan listened in mute horror to his twin’s conversation with the boys. When the two boys were silent for so long he automatically guessed what happened, then cursed himself for not noticing before he had sent Elrohir to the door.

As the slightly younger elf ushered the two young men inside, he exchanged glances with his fretting twin.

“What do we do?” he mouthed silently over Garren’s head. Elrohir graced his brother with the smallest of shrugs, before relieving Gareth, who was standing dumbly with his tray, of the food.

Elladan nodded his head to the bed across from him that Elrohir had claimed, and the twin men sat down upon it in unison. Elrohir leaned against the wall on the right side of the room and reached out with one bare foot, snagging the strap of his pack that lay halfway under his bed. Both of the teenagers watched silently as the canvas bag slid across the floor and staring curiously as the elf picked up the pack and began rummaging through it.

Elladan, deciding that his brother wasn’t going to be much of a help in this, broke the silence. Uncovering one of the trays, he picked up a hunk of bread.

“So, is there something the matter?” The twin men looked at each other, and Garren spoke up.

“You aren’t men, are you? I mean, I’ve certainly never seen any of our kind with ears like those!” With this he jerked a thumb at Elrohir, who was now up to his elbows in his bag with his tongue between his teeth and his brow furrowed.

Elladan sighed and turned back to face the twins. “Well, that would be a long story. You have heard of dwarves before, haven’t you?” Both of the boys’ eyes grew wide with horror.

“Y-you two are… dwarves?” Exclaimed one of them.

“NO, sweet Eru no!” I just wanted to know!” Said Elladan with a cruel grin. “Elrohir and I are elves, from Rivendell to be precise.” Elladan knew that they most likely didn’t understand the elven humor, but it made the elf shake with silent mirth. Estel had always said that it took a great deal of perception to be able to tell when one of the firstborn was joking and when they were serious, but it had sure been funny to watch the twins’ identical looks of horror.

Now one of the boys wore a puzzled frown, but the other seemed to understand. “We’ve all heard stories about you, of course… It’s just that no one has ever actually seen an elf here before. The odd ranger is the most out-of-the-ordinary that we seem to get around here.” The other boy nodded his agreement to this, and Elladan gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile

Glancing over at his brother, he was just in time to see Elrohir emerge triumphant from his bout with his pack. Throwing a grin at the seated beings in the room, Elrohir grandly pulled out a bit of string from the canvas bag.

“Found it!” He declared exultantly. With a flourish he tied his hair, braids and all, into a horsetail, making sure to cover the tips of his pointed ears. Elladan groaned, slapping a hand over his brow.

“Ai Elladan, mabo orch.” He exclaimed in the gray tongue. At this the two identical boys on the bed opposite him looked at each other and leaped off the bed simultaneously.

“We did not know you could speak that tongue!” Exclaimed one.

“Shh, follow me.” Interrupted the other. “And careful that mother doesn’t catch us!”

Before he really knew what was happening, Elladan found himself pulled off the bed and dragged out the door, tripping over Elrohir’s dropped pack as he went. The odd procession halted at the door right next to theirs, and the foremost boy held a finger to his lips to signal quiet.

“We haven’t been able to understand much of what he said.” He whispered. “But you can probably help.” Finished the other. Without another word one of them eased the door to the room open, and the elven twins had time to throw only one quick, puzzled look at each other before they were prodded inside.

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Elrohir was the first of the elven twins to enter the room, and what he saw puzzled him a bit. A mass of dark, damp curls protruded from underneath a heavy coverlet, and one pale hand emerged over the side of the bed that the person was lying on.

Quietly he glided over to the bed and moved the top of the blanket down to reveal the rest of the back of this person’s head. An unusual scar on the back of their neck stopped him in his tracks, however.




// flashback //

“El, El, watch this!” Elrohir looked up to see his ten-year-old brother perched high in the branches of one of Rivendell’s many trees.

“Estel! Not so high, you will hurt yourself!” The elf called, shading his eyes with a slender hand as he peered up into the foliage.

“Just watch, Elrohir, I have done this hundreds of times before!”

“Estel…” The elf was worried now; his little brother was balanced precariously on a thin branch that swayed with his weight. With a showy air about him, the young edan quickly stood up to his full height.

Not anticipating the branch above him, Estel cracked his head squarely on it, causing his vision to go blurry and him to lose his balance. Elrohir watched in horror as his baby brother toppled backwards off the limb and began the long descent down.

The elf dropped his book and ran to the base of the tree, though not quickly enough to prevent anything happening to the young man. Estel hit what seemed to be ever branch in the tree with sickening cracks and moans.

Elrohir stood rooted to the spot where he stood, afraid to climb the tree lest his brother fall to the ground while he was in the air. After what seemed like an eternity to the frantic elf, Estel had finally bounced out of the tree.

Elrohir caught him before he hit the ground, but the damage had already been done. Both legs and an arm were at horrifying angles, terrible red lacerations covered almost every exposed area of flesh on the boy’s body, and Elrohir’s hands were quickly becoming slick with blood coming from the back of his brother’s neck.

Sobbing, the elf had run with the child to the healing wing, passing several confused elves on the way. Someone must have alerted his father, for he had barely laid the young man on a bed when Lord Elrond ran into the room, already giving orders.

Elrohir stood impatiently as Estel’s broken bones were splinted and the gash on the back of his neck was stitched. He thought to himself that the boy would have an odd, crescent scar on his neck, but the thought was quickly displaced by the more pressing need to fetch more water for his father.

// end flashback //




“Estel!” Elrohir practically shouted. His twin was at his side in a flash, and they both managed to gently yet quickly flip the boy onto his back. Elrohir heard a gasp at his side and knew that his twin was just as shocked at the state of their younger brother as he was himself.

The young man’s face was stark white, his whole body was drenched with sweat, and his chest didn’t seem to be rising or falling with breath.

“Oh no.” came a moan from his twin, and in a flash Elrohir’s fingers had snuck up under the boy’s chest, while Elladan had his ear pressed against Estel’s chest. With a sigh of relief, the younger elf pulled his hand away from his brother’s throat after finding a pulse, bringing it up to lay the back of it against his sweaty brow.

Drawing it away quickly as if he had been burned, Elrohir nodded to his twin, who had one eye open as he listened to the boy’s breathing. Without a word Elrohir brushed past the two extremely startled boys in the doorway and flew as if on eagles’ wings back to their room.

Scooping up both packs, he slung his onto his back and rummaged through Elladan’s as he walked, searching for the bag of healing supplies he knew that his brother carried.

When he re-entered the other room, the two boys were no longer there, but Elrohir had eyes only for his little brother: the boy that they had searched for so long for. Elladan had not moved from his position, but now had both eyes closed and a hand lying over Estel’s heart.

Moving so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed near his human brother’s head, he pulled several herbs and a small bowl out of the previously evasive healer’s bag. Balancing the bowl on his knee, he delved once more into the pack and fished out a water skin. Combining herbs and water in the bowl, he stirred it with a forefinger until the greenish substance turned into a sort of paste.

Frowning, the elf looked up at a noise in the doorway. Engle stood halfway across the threshold, hands on hips and a scowl in place.

“There now!” She exclaimed harshly. “I’ll not have you bothering the poor lad. Let him rest and back to your room if you do not want to find yourselves on the doorstep!” With that she bustled into the room and swept up the pack that Elrohir had left lying on the floor. Elrohir rose to his feet with a small flash of annoyance.

“You do not understand…” He was abruptly cut off by the petite woman’s firm hand on his back, trying to steer him out of the room. He threw an aggravated look at Elladan, who had by some miracle managed to save the bowl of paste and was spreading it on Estel’s exposed chest.

The look in his eyes clearly said ‘you deal with her, I will do what I can here.’ Elrohir sighed and firmly planted his feet, not allowing the woman to move him.

“Please, listen to what I have to say!” He exclaimed, trying very hard to keep a leash on his temper. It was hard beyond words for him to see his baby brother who he had helped to raise lying sick in a room in this strange town, and Engle’s trying to prevent him from caring for the young man immediately was starting to grate on his nerves.

The woman frowned, but temporarily held her peace. Her eyes followed the movement of Elladan’s hands as he finished smearing the herbal paste on the boy’s chest and looked around for a towel before wiping his hand off on his breeches.

“My lady, please, we are doing absolutely nothing that could possibly be detrimental to our brother’s health. Right now we are far more interested on saving Estel’s life than hurting him in any way!” Elrohir tried to explain with his last shred of patience. The woman turned her head back to look at him with a slightly unbelieving gaze, but finally she stepped aside, allowing Elrohir to rejoin his brothers.

“Fire.” Elladan called from the bed, and Elrohir automatically turned to the hearth, wondering where he could find flint and tinder to strike up a blaze. A small nudge at his elbow redirected his attention to one of the twin boys, who was pointing out the door.

“There’s some supplies in the hall closet, shall I start a fire?” The young man asked, trying to be helpful. Elrohir nodded hastily.

“Hannon le.” He said absently, not really caring if the boy couldn’t understand what had been said. With a sigh, the young elf went back over to the bed. One look at his foster brother’s pale face told him that there was only one thing that was certain right now: that it was going to be a long night.