A Different Song
The Valar, Maiar, and Elves belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I’m just playing with them.
This is an AU modern times’ story. It starts during the Fourth Age, when the twins are about to sail to Aman with Glorfindel and Celeborn. Something happens. This is also a reincarnation story. Fëanor and his sons have a choice. Some of them will take it.
They had been attacked after helping the Woodmen to build a rebuild their town. It had sustained some damage during the war against Sauron, and then, after Elrond, Galadriel and Mithrandil left, the weather had been unstable for a while. The Anduin had escaped its confines and reached the forest western border, and destroyed a part of the town.
The Woodmen were living closer to the river now, though the forest would always be their home. Glorfindel had come with the twins to say good-bye and to give their leader, Haddad, a letter from King Thranduil. Celeborn’s realm had been abandoned for a while, and Thranduil wanted Hadad to know that they could always count on his help.
Celeborn had left Imladris a few weeks ago, along with those of his people who wanted to follow him to the Blessed Lands. Glorfindel and the twins had lingered for a while, but they had been ready to leave after this last trip. Everything had been going as planned until those maddened Orcs mounted on Wargs had attacked them near the Carrock. The Shapeshifters had helped them, though they were fewer in numbers now. They had fought fiercely, forcing the attackers to back away, but Elladan had disappeared during the fight.
Where was he?
“Elrohir, we have to make camp.”
“Not until we find him.”
They were going south along the eastern flanks of the Hithaeglir. They had been doing it for weeks, but their attackers seemed to have vanished in the mist.
“We will find him,” Glorfindel said, “but our horses are exhausted, and we cannot risk capture.”
“How can you be so calm? I thought you loved Elladan!”
Glorfindel grabbed Elrohir’s mount with a firm grip, his eyes flashing with anger. “Calm yourself! Do you want us to continue on exhausted horses and fall into a trap? Think, Elrohir! If they capture us too, all will be lost.”
Elrohir knew, but they had lost the Orcs’s track once again, and he could feel that Elladan was weakening.
“What if they kill him, Glorfindel? I can barely feel him…”
Glorfindel trembled, and he let go of Elrohir’s mount. “If they kill him they will pay for it, but that will not happen. We will find Adan. I promise. If they have hurt him…”
Elrohir looked at Glorfindel for a moment, knowing that he meant to say kill and not hurt. The older Elf looked exhausted too, and as desperate as Elrohir felt.
“All right, let’s make camp.”
As soon as those words came out of his lips, Elrohir’s mental link with Elladan’s was cut abruptly and pain racked through his body. He fell from his mount, barely conscious.
Glorfindel dismounted and knelt beside him. “What’s wrong?”
Elrohir could not speak, and as Glorfindel lifted him from the ground, he cried out in pain. What were those creature doing to Elladan?
“I… I cannot feel him, Glorfindel…”
“Maybe he is unconscious?”
“No…” Elrohir barely managed to hold onto consciousness. “They have killed him!
“He is dead,” Elrohir whispered and then darkness rose around him and he sank into its cold embrace.