The Rescue of Celebrian

Dawn flushed pink and gold before the twins remounted, Elladan in the lead, Elrohir cradling their mother before him. Still the forest watched and waited. Still hardly a sound was heard but for the rumble of hooves and occasional heavy breath from one of the elves. Celebrian remained unconscious, wrapped in her son’s cloaks with her delicate bare feet bouncing against the horse’s side. A second behind the other, the twins flashed past familiar side paths that led to hidden guard talans and sheltering caves, intent to return now to Rivendell at whatever expense save their mother’s fragile condition. Eventually though, Elrohir caught his brother up, and then paced just ahead, driving his horse harder than was likely safe simply to avoid having to think. Dawn had never been the same since Celebrian’s party had been attacked- since so many were killed. But, he vowed as he rode, once she was safe at home again, he would see every goblin in Arda bleeding at his feet before they would cause his family another moment’s pain.

Elladan watched his brother’s back as they rode, feeling the familiar burn that told him Elrohir had turned hurt and regret into anger at himself yet again. It was a feeling Elladan knew well, and one he often found puzzling. He supposed there were times when it served a good purpose, but in his brother’s case, it seemed to be just a means of distraction. How long would his twin go on being angry, rightly so or not? From such passions were their enemies wrought, twisted by the anger and jealousy and rage of the dark Maiar. Elladan knew, though, that speaking of it would help nothing. The wounds were still too fresh; many had, in fact, not yet been made and he felt his chest heave with a sigh for his mother.

What did they face once she was safely within their father’s lands again? Could Celebrian recover? Would she? Briefly a thought of Celeborn and Galadriel crossed his mind, but knew they would not come. The danger of the pass was now too great, even for the Lady of Light. His grandmother would not come to tend her daughter. The task would be left to the elves of Rivendell, though Elladan was glad indeed his sister had reached Lothlorien safely and would remain there. She, too, should be spared the sight of their mother if she could. In truth, he thought dodging tree limbs as his blue roan thundered through the wood like balrogs nipped at her heels, one could follow and they would scarce have known it. They neared the boarders even now- would cross them before the sun crested the trees- but still the fear drove them south as though on wings. If Elrohir blamed himself for Nariel’s death and their mother’s capture, then Elladan supposed the anger he felt was toward his own cowardice. It chafed him to flee when his knives and bow nearly begged to slay something, anything, as long as it was blackened by the touch of Morgoth. Instead, he and his brother ran like frightened hares. No, he contradicted a second later, not like frightened hares, but like saviors, guardians who knew that there was nobility in this retreat. Staying to slay would, he was chagrined to admit, likely slay Celebrian as well.

~*~

To the south, Elrond’s sleepless eyes flashed silver in the muted light of early morning. A warm, paternal feeling came upon him, breaking him out of his tortured memories. The twins. They were near. And then his head clouded briefly with heat, revealing a vision of his two tall sons dismounting in the courtyard, a cloak-wrapped bundle before Elrohir passed from one to the other and back again, a fall of sliver-blonde brushing his boot tops, long, slim white calves dangling from his arm.

They have found her. She lives.

The pressure behind his eyes faded with the vision, but a buzz like raining arrows rose in their wake. Jaw set, eyes flashing, he cast off the blue and silver robes he had worn the previous day, pausing long enough to fling his slippers on top of the pile of silk in his wake. The wardrobe door met the wall beside it with a ringing thud, and a moment later Erestor entered to find his liege stripped to his small clothes, donning a worn leather hunting costume.

“My lord?” Erestor ventured, but got no further.

“They come,” Elrond snapped. “All three.” Storming into the corridor past a gaping librarian, Elrond found a maid staring through his doorway, wide eyed. “Have my horse readied,” he snapped. “I ride north.”

~*~

Had Elrohir not spotted a familiar golden head before Glorfindel intercepted them, their father’s long time friend and adviser might have met his end within the relative safety of Elrond’s domain. As it happened, the younger elf only rode on, leaving it to his brother to explain their haste or not. He was surprised, then, when Glorfindel pulled up along side him, close enough to speak.

“Give her here,” he said over the thunder of three sets of hooves and the wind rushing by. “Your mounts are nearing spent. I will get there more quickly.”

Elrohir only sped on, ignoring the older elf’s demand, logical though it was. But Glorfindel was not her son, or her husband. He had not failed her. This blind run through the forest was Elrohir’s responsibility, no one else’s.

“Would you run your horse to its death?” the fair elf asked, more loudly still, keeping Asfaloth neck in neck with Elrohir’s blue roan.

“Go ahead and prepare them if you would do something,” he replied in a growl. “Or retrace our track and see that we are not followed. You shall not have her.”

Stung by the lad’s tone, Glorfindel frowned. “I would not harm her. You know this.” Elrohir gave no reply and rode on as though nothing had been said. Finally Glorfindel dropped back a pace to speak with Elladan, hoping for a cooler head.

“They may yet follow,” Elladan said dodging a low hanging limb. “Is there a squadron nearby?”

“There should be,” Glorfindel replied.

“Our tracks may have been followed. I would see no harm befall our people because of our haste.”

“I’ll send someone to cover or confuse your trace,” Glorfindel replied. “And I’ll tell your father of your arrival myself.”

“Thank you, friend,” Elladan sighed. “Just… don’t let him see her like this. Not yet.”

~*~
Author's Notes:

For a visual of the horses, visit this site, or Sulriel's immensely helpful "Rohirrim Grey". Special thanks go to Sulriel for her informational site "A Meara for Me" as well.

Big thanks to Robinka for being inspiring and encouraging. You know just how to nudge me in the right direction.