Imladris was dimly lit by glimmering starlight, and all seemed peaceful when Elrond awoke suddenly. He was tense, aware that there was something amiss in his realm. The river. The Bruinen had risen in anger – some threat approached Imladris. Carefully removing the arm that was draped across Celebrían, he turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts groping for the cause. Normally, the river would only rouse against those who approached with evil intent. There were times, however, when other dangers threatened – not necessarily evil, but dangers nonetheless. Packs of wolves, or the occasional bear, would be driven by hunger from the bleak and barren Ettenmoors or Coldfells, and sometimes attempt to seek easier prey in the tranquil valley. Then, Elrond would increase the mantle of his protection around the vale, so that none but those who belonged could enter.
He had done the same now. The report he had received had stated that the trolls had been seen very close to the eastern side of the Trollshaws. From there, it would be a simple matter for them to ford the Bruinen to Imladris, a potential risk he was not prepared to take – especially since he had learned that Elrohir and Legolas were spending the night roaming the woods, hunting. He had instructed the night patrols to keep a discreet eye on the pair.
So, at sunset, as the stars appeared, he had used his powers and control over the river to protect his realm from all, effectively sealing the valley from the outside world. Only visitors who crossed the ford accompanied by the guards would be permitted access – all others would face the wrath of the river.
And something, it seemed, had done just that. He could sense the pent up fury of the waters, about to sweep away whatever creature trespassed in its path. Rising from the bed, he crossed silently to the windows. As he did so, he felt the tension in him drain away, flowing out of him even as the river began to flow again, and he let out a long breath of release. Behind him, Celebrían stirred.
“What is it?” she asked sleepily. “Is something wrong?”
“The river,” he explained briefly. “Something awakened it. I feel the danger has passed, though – it must have been swept away on the flood. The water has subsided once more. Imladris is safe again.” He moved back to the bed, leaning down to kiss her gently. “Go back to sleep, my love.”
Celebrían relaxed into sleep again, but Elrond was wakeful now. It was near dawn, so he put a light robe over his sleeping tunic, intending to spend a little time in his library before the rest of the household roused. Next to their own room he passed Arwen’s, and silently opened the door to look in. She lay with her back to him, a spill of dark hair spread across the pillow, deep in slumber. Closing the door softly, he moved on. The twins’ rooms were in another corridor which branched off, and he came to Elrohir’s first. He knew it was empty, and passed by. A second door led to his sons’ sitting room, and Elladan’s chamber lay at the far end of the hallway. Again opening the door quietly, he was startled to see Elladan’s bed empty, unslept in. He could sense his son’s sleeping presence nearby, though, and stepped out onto the balcony.
Elladan was huddled in one corner, his head pillowed on his arms, facing the path that led down the valley. He had presumably fallen asleep while watching for his brother’s return. Elrond was about to wake him, for the pre-dawn air was cool, but then he went back to the bedroom, returning with a warm blanket. Carefully he placed it around Elladan, draping it over him so gently his son did not stir. He knew about the disagreement earlier that day, and knew about the heartache it could cause. Elladan, regretting their harsh words, would be missing his twin more than normal. Leaving Elladan to his lonely vigil, Elrond returned through the room, blowing out the candle that had been left burning.
The rest of the house was silent, and deserted save for the guard on the main doors. On reaching the library, however, he found to his surprise that it was occupied. Thranduil was already there, reading in a chair by the fire. It had gone out, but a faint glow of warmth could still be felt. He looked up, seeming unsurprised to see Elrond.
Elrond joined him by the hearth. “You could not sleep either?”
Thranduil shook his head. “I awoke a short while ago. I felt uneasy about Legolas, and this ill-advised excursion our sons have gone on. I fear something has happened to him – there is something amiss.”
Elrond nodded. “Yes. And there is more – something tried to cross the river a few minutes ago.”
Thranduil stiffened. “Can you tell what?”
“No. Only that the river rose up, and is now calm again. The trolls, perhaps.” Elrond poured them both a cup of wine from the table by the fire, raising his in a silent gesture. “I asked the guards to look out for them while they are on patrol, to ensure they cannot come to any harm. Let me see if there is any word yet.”
Leaving Thranduil, he spoke softly to the guards at the door, before sending one of them out into the pale dawn. Returning, he frowned slightly. “None of the patrols have seen them. I have asked that when they are sighted, the guards send them straight here. There is something about this expedition I am not happy about.”
A fleeting movement by the door caught his eye, and he turned. “Elladan? Elladan! Would you come in here, please?”
Looking slightly furtive, and still rather sleep-fogged, Elladan came into the library. He was fully dressed now, with the exception of his shoes, which he carried in one hand. “Father? Why are you up?” He caught sight of Thranduil then, and inclined his head. “My lord.”
Elrond eyed him sympathetically. “I might ask you the same question. Are you worried about Elrohir?”
Elladan hesitated briefly, but then nodded. “Yes. He’s not back yet.”
“I must admit, I am a little concerned – the guards have not seen them, so I do not know where in the valley they went. But you know as well as I do that little harm can come to them here. The river will see to that.”
Elladan looked up sharply at that, looking a little pale. “The river?” he repeated anxiously.
Elrond nodded. “You know the protection it gives us all. Nothing can cross now – I have seen to that.”
“Nothing?”
“No. Something tried to enter the river earlier – a troll perhaps – but it will have stood no chance against the flood.” Elrond moved closer to Elladan, and gave him a brief, reassuring hug. “Nothing can get into the valley,” he repeated, to reassure his son, who looked if anything, even more worried.
Elladan now looked thoroughly miserable. “But El –” he stopped.
“Elrohir and Legolas will be quite safe!” Elrond emphasised. He glanced at Thranduil. “At least, they will be until they return home. They have both been totally irresponsible in their actions – I think we both intend to impress that on them,” he added grimly.
“Come on – I’ll race you down the hill! Who’ll be first across the river?” Even as he spoke, Elrohir jumped forward, ahead of Legolas, bounding in great leaps down the slope. They were both laughing, calling amiable insults to one another as they ran headlong towards the river. Yet as he raced down the steep valley towards the Bruinen, the dagger concealed in his boot began to work loose, digging into his ankle painfully. Limping, he slowed and stopped, pulling the dagger free. The sharp point had broken the skin slightly, but it was a minor cut. Thrusting the dagger into his belt instead, he ran on. The delay had cost him, though, and Legolas had overtaken him, and was now nearly at the water’s edge. Elrohir slowed, walking down the final slope, and he watched Legolas race into the river, water splashing all around him, not realising he had already won their race.
Yet something seemed odd. Legolas, normally as sure-footed as any other elf, slipped and slid as if he was on ice, unable to find his balance. Then he fell, disappearing momentarily beneath the water. Elrohir began to laugh, but then stopped abruptly. His senses told him that something was badly wrong. Legolas, dripping, stood again, but then missed his footing once more. “Legolas?” he called. “What is it?” There was a low roar on the edge of his hearing; like, yet totally unlike the sound the troll had made. He listened for a moment, not quite believing what he could hear. But the sound intensified, growing ever louder and fiercer, roaring and rushing towards him. Glancing upstream, he saw through the darkness a mighty wave approaching, a wave that seemed to have formed itself in seconds, and was growing in size and strength even as he watched, thundering cataclysmically towards them.
The river had roused, and for some reason perceived Legolas as an enemy.
Cursing, Elrohir raced down the bank to the water’s edge, shouting a desperate warning. “Legolas, come back! Now! Get out of the water – move!” Without pausing to see if his friend could obey, he plunged into the stream, ankle-deep, thigh-deep, and reached for Legolas, who was still trying desperately to regain his footing.
Even as they made contact, Legolas fell again, losing his grip and being washed further from Elrohir. Elrohir waded further towards the centre of the stream, and then turned, positioning himself between Legolas and the approaching torrent.
The sight terrified him. He had witnessed the power of the Bruinen once before, a few years previously, when it had flooded following days of torrential rain. Then, trees had been uprooted and washed downstream, along with massive rocks and boulders. Part of the ford had been destroyed, and several footbridges along the Harduin, which bordered Imladris to the south, washed away.
Elrohir faced upstream, acting now purely on instinct, one hand thrust out before him in a commanding gesture. “Hear me, waters of the Bruinen!” he shouted. “I am my father’s son. Listen to me!” He flung a swift glance over his shoulder to Legolas, still floundering in the water. “Keep still!” he hissed. He turned back to the river, and raised his voice again. “I am Elrohir Elrondion. I beg that you will grant us safe passage, oh mighty waters! Here is a friend to Imladris, Legolas Thranduilion of Lasgalen. He is under my protection. Allow him to cross safely, I beseech you!”
For a long, breathless moment, nothing seemed to happen. Elrohir waited, his heart pounding. The water around them was already deepening as the wave neared, and he could feel the tug and pull of the undertow swirling about his legs. He wondered fleetingly if there was still time for him to try again to drag Legolas to safety, and glanced at the eastern bank on his right. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the towering torrent of water subsided gently, dissipating into small, foaming wavelets which ran bubbling gently past them, the water level only a little deeper and swifter than normal.
Elrohir extended his hand to Legolas, hauling him to his feet easily now, and together they waded in silence to the bank before turning to gaze at the river, now running serenely over stones and pebbles as it always did. Legolas stopped on the narrow strip of sand before the cliff, wringing water out of his clothes and hair. Then he stared at Elrohir, his eyes wide with awe.
“I didn’t know you could do that!” he said in wonder. “Thank you. Elrohir, that was amazing!”
Elrohir, searching among the shrubs and flowering vines that grew luxuriantly along the water’s edge, did not respond immediately. He did not initially trust his voice. Finally he found a large, creamy-white blossom, the petals flecked with orange specks near the centre. Picking it very carefully, he cast it into the water with a bow. “You have my thanks, oh Bruinen,” he told the river, his voice now steady. Then he glanced at Legolas. “I didn’t know I could do that either,” he admitted.
He did not speak again until they had scaled the steep path, still on the lookout for passing patrols. Then they made their way back along the twisting trails towards Imladris, soaked, cold, and weary.
“Elrohir?” Legolas asked at last, after they had walked for some time in silence. “Why did the river rise up then? Why did it think I was an enemy?”
Elrohir had been considering the events, and their consequences. He sighed. “We were safe when we crossed before because we were together. Coming back, you went into the water first.” He looked at Legolas, his eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would react like that. I should have stopped you.”
Legolas dismissed that. “But why did it react then? It didn’t last time, when we went swimming before the games. I was in the water on my own for quite a long time!” he added dryly.
“I think my father must have increased the protection it gives – perhaps because of the trolls. Because we were coming from the Trollshaws, the spirit of the river must have thought you were a threat.” Elrohir sighed again. “And there’s one more thing. My father will have felt it immediately when the river was roused. He’ll know something is wrong.”
He fell silent again, deep in thought. He was beginning to realise the utter stupidity of his quest, the true risk he had taken, and just what could have gone wrong. Even the young troll that had been so fascinated by elves could easily have killed or seriously injured them, as thoughtlessly as others might swat a wasp. While Elladan and his parents – and Thranduil – would have known that something had happened, he knew that he and Legolas may not have been found for days. The Bruinen was another danger; one he had never even considered. Elrohir knew that his own actions that night had been foolish enough – but to allow Legolas to come as well had been sheer lunacy. If anything had happened to the younger elf, Elrohir would never have forgiven himself – to say nothing of the blame that Thranduil, or his own parents would have placed on him.
The night was fading into the grey light of dawn as they drew near the house. Birds began their song to greet the new day, and in the distance Elrohir could hear the soft snort and stamping of horses from the stables. Then another sound was added to the morning; the slight rustle of leaves as first one, then two elven warriors dropped from the trees onto the path before them.
“So there you are, younglings!” the first greeted them. “The night patrols have been asked to look out for you – I believe your lord fathers would like a word with you both.”
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