The Dam Breaks
by Sister Sárie

http://www.geocities.com/sister_sarie

A/N: I never planned to continue “Bedtime Story”, but my lovely reviewers seemed to like Brithla so much I decided to bring her back anyway… This story started to develop in the back of my mind two days ago, when I began to think of a fitting way to continue “Bedtime Story”. I’d had a few ideas for completely different stories that I decided to use in here. I’ve been composing the plot during practically every waking moment (well, not *every* waking moment, just those that don’t require higher brain functions, like while cooking or riding on a bus)… so it’s time for more disasters, E/G hurt/comfort (without slash) and cuteness of little Brithla.

This week is the first time I’ve ever published any of my stuff on the ‘net, so I’m most grateful to all you who took time to read my works and give me some feedback. Thank you!

I know I make grammatical errors, since English isn’t my mother-tongue. Thank you for your patience with me!

If I may be so bold, I’d like to dedicate this story to Reona, my favourite author in the Whole Wide Web! Thank you!

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Rivendell, winter 2614 T.A.

A lone elf rushed through the hallways of the Last Homely House: through a doorway, along a corridor, around a corner, until he finally came to a halt in front of a closed door and started to bang it frantically.

Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, was awakened by the urgent knocks, and jumped out of his bed. He hurried to the door to find the upset figure of one of his border-guards.

“My lord, the dam… the dam is breaking!”

Elrond pushed back a few strands of sleep-tousled hair, and took a hold of the guard’s shoulders.

“Conendor, calm down”, he said, “Which dam?”

“The big one”, came Conendor’s reply.

This was enough of an explanation. “The big one” was a dam originally constructed to turn a persistent stream that came down from the mountains and wished to flow through the Last Homely House. In general, Elrond preferred to allow Bruinen to run free, but his people also preferred a dry home.

This was just one of those numerous little streams that came down high from the peaks of the Misty Mountains to join each other in the valley, and form the mighty river Bruinen that rushed out of Rivendell.

Elrond had tried to gently persuade the stream to choose another path down, but in the end you cannot control the Nature with magic. It was the nature of water to run downhill choosing the easiest path, so in the end they had build the dam to turn the flow.

Elrond did not waste any time after hearing Conendor’s words.
“Go and wake up Master Tórion!” he shouted over his shoulder while rushing back to his chambers, “Tell him to get some people down to the dam, I’m on my way there now!”

“Yes, my lord!” Conendor left with that.

Elrond did not even bother to get dressed properly. He just pulled a robe over his sleeping-gown and boots to his bare feet, and took off towards the dam.

He considered his options while running. The stream had grown during the years, and was now actually more a river. If the dam truly broke now, the waters rushing down the hill would no doubt cause some damage to the structures of the house. And flood it.

He sighed. This seemed to be a year of disasters. Only last summer the library had collapsed, and now this.

When arriving to the dam he found five more guards, standing nearby and staring at the hazardous structure cautiously, as if it might take a leap at them if they tuned their backs on it.

Small clouds of vapour indicated their breathing: the night was freezing cold. Elrond suddenly wished he had dressed more properly. Elves were nearly immune to cold, but Elrond was not a full elf. His resistance to coldness was better than that of men, but when the temperature dropped low enough he started to feel it.

He slowed down to a walking pace, and greeted the elves as calmly as he could. They looked panicked enough as it was, and he had learned long ago that as long as he was calm, his people were too.

His reassuring presence worked again: the guards relaxed visibly as soon as he stopped and gave them a kind smile.

“Thank you for alerting me so soon”, he told them, “We will fix this, do not fret”.

He walked closer to the dam to inspect the damage, and had to use all his willpower to stop himself from groaning. He kept his face completely blank, but his mind was in turmoil as he stared at the several large chasms from where water was already running to the ground, and starting to make its way towards their home.

He heard the sound of running feet, and saw Tórion arriving, followed by ten other elves.

Tórion came to a halt in front of Elrond and tried to catch his breath.

“Good evening, Master Tórion”, greeted Elrond, still keeping his voice calm, “I believe we have a small problem”.

He motioned towards the dam, and Tórion’s eyes widened.

Elrond and the builder spent the following minutes in deep discussion, during which time more elves appeared from the house, ready for work. To Elrond’s relief, the damage was not irreparable: Tórion reckoned they could secure the structure over the night, but there was a small problem…

“We can make it hold”, Tórion explained, “At least long enough for us to build a new dam, but the problem is it is not holding right now“.

Elrond gave him an enquiring look, and he continued:

“As it is, the masses of water are pressing heavily against the dam. Once we have the supports up, it will hold, but before that it can collapse any moment”.

Elrond considered this for a minute.

“I can help you with that”, he finally replied, “Gather your people and start working, I will keep the water away”.

“Yes, my lord”.

While Tórion started to should urgent instructions to his workers, Elrond walked up the hill behind the dam. He stopped to the edge of the water, and looked at the black, foaming waves. This would not be easy.

Bruinen had a mind of its own. Everything in nature had a mind of its own, if you knew where to look from. At some strange level not visible to ordinary people, Bruinen had a consciousness, and Elrond knew how to get in touch with it. It was not easy, nature really did not want to be controlled, but it was doable. Elrond had also discovered that, at another strange level which he did not fully understand, Bruinen seemed to like him. He had often wondered if it had something to do with Vilya, or if the river just considered him a likeable person.

He took a deep breath. He was really going to get cold tonight. Then he jumped in.

The heavy current threw him against the dam. He fought to get to the surface of the black water, where blocks of ice were floating. He took a hold of the dam, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

After a moment bright blue light started to twinkle from the waters. Elrond felt Vilya pulse on his finger. The workers stopped to watch in wonderment, when the blue light grew brighter and brighter. The river seemed to be lit in blue flames.

Then slowly, hesitantly, the water started to pull back.

Elrond felt the water-level lowering, and let go of the dam. His feet met the muddy bottom of the river, and he stood still. The current was no longer pressing him against the dam, the water was nearly still around him.

In front of him, the current turned, and started voluntarily to follow the path made to it by the elves long time ago. The dam was left undisturbed.

Elrond took a few steps forward, and the water shrunk away in front of him to give more space to the workers around the dam. He felt exhausted already, and this was just the beginning. How many hours would he be forced to stay here, concentrating all his will to the waters? If he failed now, the power of the water crashing against the dam would surely make it break, not to mention what would happen to the working elves.

Elrond collapsed to his knees, and then sat down. He pushed all other thought away and concentrated on the water again.

Behind him Master Tórion stirred, and pulled his eyes from the spectacular display in front of him. He started to shout to the others, and soon the frantic action resumed.

For hours the elves slaved, building supports and mending the cracks. Frost bit hard to the valley, cold stars looked down from the clear sky, snow and ice glittered, reflecting their light.

Elrond sat completely still, oblivious to the hectic work around him, or the mud on the bottom of the river slowly freezing. He was in a private world of his own, accompanied only by the water.

The sky started to lighten, slowly turning from black to cobalt blue. The stars dimmed, and eventually disappeared, taking their rest only to return the next night. Finally, the first red rays of the cold winter sun slid to the valley.

And finally, the work was completed. The tired elves gathered to the bank, looking at their work, and their lord who still sat motionless, his eyes closed and brow furrowed.

“I suppose we can tell him to stop now”, Tórion said laconically, and started to climb down to the bottom.

Elrond felt someone shake him by the shoulder, and tilted his head slightly. He could hear the muffled voice of Tórion, as if coming from a great distance away.

“We are ready”, it said.

Elrond nodded. Slowly, like in a dream, Elrond stood up. He started to back away, and the water followed him. Tórion turned, and climbed back up. He had a feeling it might be unwise to linger.

Elrond raised his hands and took a few more steps back. Then he stopped, and suddenly lowered his hands again. The river roared when it was freed. The waves hit Elrond, and smacked him against the dam again. Elrond coughed, and gripped the dam once more. He started to climb slowly, but it proved to be difficult. His limbs were completely numb, and did not seem to obey him properly.

Suddenly a hand appeared from above. Elrond looked up to see the face of Tórion looking down at him. He took the offered hand, and was swiftly pulled up.

Elrond collapsed on top of the dam. He lay there for a while, gasping and coughing the water from his lungs. He could feel Tórion kneel next to him, and looked up.

“Thank you”, he managed to whisper.

Tórion just nodded and, after giving another glance to the foaming water, simply wrapped his arms around his lord and pulled him up. Elrond leaned heavily against the other elf when they slowly made their way down the dam and to the solid ground again. His legs were shaking, and he felt he might collapse again any moment.

He looked carefully at the workers once they reached them. Some of them looked scared; all of them looked worried. Elrond forced a smile to his lips, though he was positive it was not a convincing one.

It seemed to work again anyway. The elves relaxed, and many of them smiled back.

Elrond attempted to speak, but realized suddenly he could not. His throat felt horribly sore, and he broke into a fit of coughs again. Tórion’s arms appeared to offer him support, but he waved the younger elf away.

“I’ll be fine”, he managed.

Elrond leaned against a nearby tree, and finally succeeded in standing straight. He cleared his throat, and made another attempt to speak.

“You all did some wonderful work tonight”, he said in a raspy voice, “The whole Rivendell can be proud of you. If Master Tórion judges the dam will hold for now, I suggest you all try to get some well-earned rest. I will call for you this afternoon, and we can start planning the new dam. Thank you all!”

His little speech lifted the spirits, and the tired elves lightened up. Almost in unison they started to offer their thanks to Elrond, telling him they could not have done it without him. Elrond accepted the thanks modestly, looking nearly embarrassed by the attention, and managed to impress his people even more. When the small group started to break, he could hear one of the leaving elves tell to his friend: “You really must admire him… so kind and modest despite everything…”

Elrond shook his head at this, and made to leave himself. All he wanted was to sleep… He noticed Tórion was waiting for him.

“Go to bed, Tórion”, ha said gently, “You need some rest too”.

“I thought you might need some help, my lord”, replied the younger elf in his straightforward manner.

Elrond smiled at this. “Thank you Tórion, but I’ll be fine. Go get some rest, I’ll meet you later this afternoon”.

Tórion looked at his lord carefully from head to toe. He was a friend of Elrond’s children and therefore knew his lord well enough to be direct.

“No offence, my lord, but you do not look well”, he said after some consideration, “Besides, we are going the same way anyway”.

Elrond was about to decline the offer of help, as was his usual way, when he realized the other elf was right. He was not at all sure that he could make his way back to the house on his own. He was unable to feel his body, and his clothes had frozen on him. And he had icicles in his hair.

He gave Tórion a grateful look, and that was all the other elf needed. Without further explanations Tórion put an arm around Elrond’s waist, and together they started their journey back to the house.

During the walk Elrond started to realize how bad his state really was. His throat felt like sandpaper, it was nearly impossible to swallow, let alone speak. His whole body was still numb, and only with tiny steps and supported by Tórion he managed to walk at all. It took him even longer to realize he was actually shaking violently.

The trip seemed to take forever, but finally they reached the steps of the house.

---

A crowd had gathered to the Main Hall of the Last Homely House. Small groups of elves were chatting happily, ready to start their day, still unaware of the happenings of the previous night. Someone was playing a harp in the corner.

Glorfindel was talking cheerfully with his friends and watching Mistress Sárie wipe the dusts from a nearby statue. One of his friends was just about to reach the punch line of a rather long and complicated joke, which he did not seem to remember properly. Glorfindel was only barely listening, and he lost his concentration completely when he suddenly saw Mistress Sárie’s eyes grow wide, and the elf dropped her duster.

Glorfindel followed her gaze, and gasped at the sight at the doors. Elrond was standing there supported by Tórion, glassy-eyed and covered in mud and… frost.

Glorfindel was by his friend’s side in a second.

“What happened!?” he cried out, “Are you well?”

Stupid question, he thought a moment later. Of course Elrond was not well.

Elrond looked at his friend with slightly unfocused eyes. “I think I might start to cry”, he said in a small voice, “I have icicles in my hair”.

The great hall was silent now. This was a sight you simply could not ignore.

Suddenly another elf was there too.

“That’s it”, said Mistress Alyssa, “You are coming with me”.

She took Elrond from Tórion, and started to walk him to his chambers. Glorfindel followed rather uncertainly. Mistress Alyssa had never liked him. Well, she never liked anybody, but she seemed to dislike him in particular. She hated cheerful people. Glorfindel decided to look as moody as possible.

He did not need to bother though, because as soon as Mistress Alyssa had helped Elrond to his bedchamber, she unceremoniously slammed the door shut in front of Glorfindel’s nose.

Glorfindel sighed, and sat down to wait. What else was there to do? Break the door? He was terribly worried about Elrond, but doubted if his friend would appreciate him rushing in in a rain of splinters. He knew Mistress Alyssa would not.

Ten minutes later Glorfindel’s patience paid off, when Mistress Alyssa returned to him.
“A cold”, she said shortly, “You look after him, I will fetch him something to drink”.

Alyssa marched out and towards the Hall of Healing, where they made all their medicines. Glorfindel rushed to the bedchamber.

A cold. Elves did not get ill, but again, Elrond was not a full elf. He had managed to get colds a few times during his well over 6,000 years upon this Earth, and had not taken it well on any of those occasions. Elves never took illness or injury well, but Elrond particularly hated his own weakness.

The room which Glorfindel entered was empty, but the door to the bath chamber was open. Glorfindel walked in without a moment’s hesitation; he was one of the very few elves in Middle-Earth who would. Everybody else in Rivendell – except Mistress Alyssa of course – would rather have chopped their own head off than walked to the bath chamber of their lord, but Glorfindel did not worry: he had seen Elrond au naturell a hundred times.

Elrond was lying in bath, and to his shock Glorfindel saw tears running down his cheeks.

“What is the matter?” he cried and knelt down next to his friend.

“The water burns”, Elrond hissed through gritted teeth.

“Shall I help you up?” Glorfindel asked, but Elrond shook his head.

“No”, he replied, “I need the warmth. I’ll be fine”.

“What happened?”

Elrond swallowed with difficulty, and Glorfindel regretted he had asked.

“Does your throat hurt? I’m sorry, I should not make you talk”.

But Elrond just shook his head again.

“The dam broke”, came his shaky whisper, “We were out all night fixing it… I got soaked…”

Glorfindel observed his friend carefully. At least Elrond was clean again, and the icicles were gone, but he was terribly pale and shivering. As Glorfindel watched, Elrond made a feeble attempt to get up.

“Sit still!” ordered Glorfindel, and quickly picked up a large towel. For once Elrond obeyed, a sure sign of him being indeed unwell.

Glorfindel helped the smaller elf up gently, and wrapped the towel around him. He then carried Elrond back to the bedchamber, and on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The fire was burning happily, apparently Mistress Alyssa had also added some wood to it. That elf was everywhere, Glorfindel thought, annoyed.

He fetched another towel and a hairbrush, and helped Elrond to dry and untangle his hair. Then he moved to the wardrobe in search of a clean sleeping-gown.

Elrond lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. He felt horrible, and was unable to stop shaking. He wondered if he would ever feel warm again. But then again, at least he was feeling something now; the numbness had been quite disturbing. He was well aware of the symptoms of hypothermia, and had no doubt that without Tórien he would have just fallen to the soft snow, and slept forever. He opened his eyes when he felt Glorfindel lean over him.

“I thought you had fallen asleep”, the blond said.

Elrond simply shook his head again; he really did not want to speak now unless he had to.

Glorfindel helped him to get dressed, and picked him up again. Elrond did not protest, but instead leaned his head against his friend’s shoulder and allowed himself to be carried. Glorfindel put him down next to the bed, pulled the covers away and pushed him gently down. Elrond lay down obediently and closed his eyes. He was so tired…

He felt Glorfindel wrap the covers around him and sit down on the edge of the bed. A moment later Glorfindel stood up again, and Elrond opened his eyes, surprised. He saw his friend open a chest and pull out another blanket, a thicker one made of wool. He smiled gratefully when Glorfindel spread it to cover him.

Glorfindel sat back down, and looked carefully at his friend’s face. Elrond had closed his eyes again, and wrapped his arms around himself, still shivering. Glorfindel considered this for a moment, and then slipped his hands under the covers and started to rub Elrond’s back. Elrond’s tightly shut eyelids fluttered briefly, and he reached out one hand to squeeze that of Glorfindel’s.

The eyes opened again when Mistress Alyssa returned, holding a mug filled with steaming liquid. Glorfindel eyed it suspiciously, and even Elrond seemed slightly hesitant.

Alyssa observed all this and, lowering the mug to a table, said: “I added some honey to it”.

Glorfindel’s yaw dropped. He had just witnessed something that had never happened: Mistress Alyssa had showed some compassion.

She noticed the look in Glorfindel’s eyes, and returned to her usual self.

“I’m sure you can look after yourself from now on”, she said after clearing her throat, “Just a cold, nothing to cry about. Good day to you both”.

With a sharp nod she left the room again, closing the door perhaps just a little bit harder than necessary. Glorfindel waited until he heard her exit the sitting room, and then burst into laughter.

“Well, well!” he exclaimed, “It appears our Ice Lady has developed a soft spot for you!”

Elrond glanced at him in annoyance. Alyssa had had a hard life, and Elrond had always thought she had some right to be bitter. She had gotten over it in time, but people had already gotten accustomed to her hard exterior. It was not easy for her to heal, and if people’s reactions were like this, no wonder she continued to keep everything inside.

Glorfindel noticed his friend was not amused, and composed himself again. Elrond eyed the mug on the table and started to get up, and Glorfindel hurried to help him.

Elrond drank the concoction with some difficulty, but in the end Glorfindel noticed that he was less pale now, and was not shaking so badly. He lowered himself back on the bed, and Glorfindel pulled the blankets up to cover him again. After a moment his breathing turned more even, and Glorfindel knew he was finally sleeping.

Glorfindel watched him closely for a while, but when it seemed Elrond would continue sleeping quietly, he stood up and left the room silently.

He made his way to the library, and when he was inspecting a shelf in search of a good book, he heard a bright voice address him.

“Lord Glorfindel?” asked Brithla hesitantly.

“How can I help you, my little friend?” he replied.

Brithla looked worried, biting her bottom lip. “I heard Lord Elrond is hurt”, she began.

Glorfindel smiled to the child. “He is not hurt, he just has a cold. He’ll be fine after a few days”, he assured the girl.

Brithla frowned. “Why is he cold then?”

This made Glorfindel laugh, though he felt he should not. How was Brithla supposed to know anything about the illnesses of men?

“A cold is a medical condition”, he explained, “Humans get it sometimes… Their throats get sore, and they have fever…” He tried to remember the symptoms, but had to confess to himself that he was no expert either. He was sure Elrond would be more than happy to explain everything to Brithla once he got better.

Brithla had been listening carefully. “That sounds awful!” she cried.

“Well… Lord Elrond is definitely not feeling very well right now”, he had to admit, “But it’s not dangerous. He will be back to his usual self in a few days, I promise”.

“Can I come to see him? Please?”

Glorfindel considered this. He knew his friend well. Despite his condition, Elrond would try to entertain the little girl, when he should actually be resting.

“I’m sorry, Brithla”, he said, “Lord Elrond is sleeping right now. But I promise you I will take good care of him. I just came to find something to read”.

Brithla nodded understandingly. Glorfindel pulled a book from the shelf, and after promising one more time that everything was indeed well, left the library.

He smiled while making his way back to Elrond’s chambers. He found it amusing how protective the little girl had been of Elrond ever since the incident in the library the previous summer.

Elrond was still sleeping peacefully when Glorfindel returned, and the blond elf settled down next to him in the large bed and opened his book.

The day was surprisingly uneventful. Elrond had quite a high fever now, and he slept most of the time. The cough was getting worse too. Glorfindel sat in the bed, watching his friend’s burning cheeks and rapidly rising chest, and pitied him. He wished there was something he could do to help Elrond, but had learned years ago that all he could really offer was tea and sympathy:

On the few occasions the half-elf was awake, Glorfindel made him some tea and helped him drink it. Elrond was quiet and distant, despite Glorfindel’s attempts to cheer him up with his usual bad jokes. Mistress Sárie brought them some lunch, but Elrond did not even touch his food, claiming he was not hungry. Glorfindel had just started one of his lectures about the importance of eating, when Mistress Alyssa appeared with more medicines and told him to leave Elrond alone this time.

“Normally, I would agree”, she said, “But loss of appetite is a common symptom of a cold. It’s better to let him rest than press the matter”.

Glorfindel was so shocked about the mere thought of Mistress Alyssa ever agreeing with him that he let the lunch issue be.

Tórion also appeared a bit later, wanting to know if Elrond was coming to discuss about the new dam. Glorfindel gave the younger elf a blank look, and then motioned him to follow to the bedchamber door. Tórion watched the little sleeping figure – Elrond chose that moment to whimper pitifully – and said: “So I will see to it alone”.

The builder was already on his way out, when he suddenly turned.

“My lord Glorfindel, should we not inform his children?”

The twins and Arwen were still visiting their grand-parents in Lothlórien, and would probably stay for a few more months.

Glorfindel shook his head at Tórion. “Elrond would bite our heads off if we made his children worry over nothing. It is just a cold, he would be perfectly healthy again before the messenger even reached Lórien”.

“I suppose you are right, my lord”, Tórion agreed and left, his mind already back in the subject of dams.

When the evening arrived, Glorfindel went to collect a few personal things from his own chambers. He thought it better to spend the night with Elrond. He took a quick bath in Elrond’s bathtub and slipped to his side of the bed. He knew Elrond would not mind, or even consider it strange: again, they had done it a hundred times before. It was often quite hard to get privacy in an army camp.

---

Elrond lay still, with his eyes closed. It was so nice and warm, he could stay here forever. The soft snow, the pleasant numbness… no pain, no fear… he felt he was floating… He just wanted to sleep. To sleep forever… So tired…

Then the disturbing thought, nagging somewhere in the back of his mind. No! Get up! You cannot sleep now! Get up, or you will sleep forever!

You will sleep forever!

A distressed cry awoke Glorfindel, and he sat up quickly. He turned towards Elrond, who moaned in his sleep.

“Elrond, wake up!”

Elrond let out a small cry, and Glorfindel started to shake him lightly.

“Wake up, El, it’s only a dream!”

Suddenly Elrond’s eyes shot open, and Glorfindel had time to see the look of panic in them before Elrond started to struggle violently. Glorfindel had always been stronger of the two though, and Elrond was also weakened by his illness, so his friend managed to restrain him easily enough.

He pressed Elrond down to the mattress and watched the signs of recognition appear to his eyes.

“It was only a dream”, he repeated.

To his surprise, Elrond started to cry.

Glorfindel gathered his friend to his arms, and gently rocked him back and forth, whispering soothing nonsense to his ear until he calmed down a bit. Then he pushed Elrond back slightly to look at his face.

“That must have been some dream”, he said and lifted his hand to wipe away the other’s tears.

“It was not that”, Elrond replied quietly, staring down at the sheets.

“Then what was it?”

Elrond looked up, and Glorfindel saw the anger in his eyes.

“I hate myself! I hate my weak body!” he cried with a passion, “No elf would ever get defeated like this by mere cold air!”

Glorfindel was puzzled at first. Elrond had understood and accepted the limitations of his mixed heritage ages ago. It was not like him to dwell on such matters, when they could not be helped. Then he remembered another symptom: Elrond always got depressed when he was ill. Even the half-elf did not get sick so often that he had gotten accustomed to it, and his own illness always frightened him, no matter how temporary and non-terminal it was.

He sighed and pulled Elrond closer again.

“It will pass”, he whispered to Elrond’s ear, “You will feel better in the morning”.

Elrond remained silent. It seemed that the closeness of his friend was all the comfort he truly needed. Still holding the smaller, dark-haired half-elf, Glorfindel settled them both back down to the bed. Elrond rested his head against Glorfindel’s chest, and soon he was back in sleep.

But Glorfindel stayed awake for a long time, holding his friend protectively and smoothing his hair, carefully so not to awake him.

---

A month later life had returned to normal in Rivendell. Spring was coming, and Bruinen had lost most of the thick ice that had covered her. Elrond looked out of one of the library windows at the young elves who were entertaining themselves by riding ice rafts down the river. Occasionally a flat piece of ice would break, and an unfortunate passenger would fall into the still-icy water.

“That looks like fun”, said the girl standing next to him.

“I don’t know, Brithla”, replied Elrond, “I believe I will stay away from cold water for a while”.

Brithla giggled at this, and went back to the desk. Elrond watched her pick up her quill again, and start to draw elegant lines to the page in front of her. He gave one last glance towards the playful elves at the river, and returned to his own work.

It had taken them the whole winter to copy all the books damaged by the collapse of the library. Brithla had turned out to be a great help, despite her youth. Her reading and writing skills had improved greatly in the guidance of Elrond, and she was now transferring the text from one of the more uncomplicated books to a new one.

The young girl seemed sincerely interested about books. Her mother had told Elrond that in fact she now spent nearly every waking moment reading one. Or at least the times she did not spend in the company of Elrond. The half-elven lord had impressed the child greatly last summer, and she practically worshipped him. Glorfindel had started to call her “Elrond’s Little Shadow”.

The loud bang of someone throwing the library doors open caused her to jump, and spill some of the ink to an almost-ready page. She sighed in annoyance, and gave a cold look to the elf which had caused this.

The said elf, a border-guard as it was, had ran across the library, and stopped in front of Elrond, catching his breath.

“My lord… dam…”

Elrond had problems believing his ears.

“Which dam?” he asked cautiously.

The guard had managed to calm his breathing, and was ready to offer a more detailed explanation.

“There is an ice-dam in Bruinen”, he began, “We were returning from our patrol from north, when we noticed that the ford was flooded. We started to investigate, and found out that some large blocks of ice that had floated down the river, had got caught in the entrance to a gorge.

“The dam is huge, my lord, and there’s more ice gathering to it all the time. And the ford is completely blocked. It’s actually currently a lake…”

Elrond sat down heavily. Ice-dams were quite common in Rivendell during spring. The loose ice that had covered Bruinen during the winter often got stuck, and started to gather the water behind it. The valley had suffered from floods several times during the ages, but never had the ford been blocked.

Elrond pulled a map out from a drawer, and motioned the guard to come closer.

“Show me the exact location of the dam”, he said.

The guard examined the map briefly, and then pointed a finger to the asked location.

“And how big is it, exactly?”

Elrond listened to the guard’s careful description of the size of the flooded area. He felt cold fingers of fear grip his heart.

“I must see this myself”, he said seriously, “Meet me at the stables in fifteen minutes!”

The guard bowed, and left, and Elrond turned to Brithla.

“I must examine the dam, I trust you will manage on your own”.

“I will, Lord Elrond”, replied Brithla with her bright voice, “Do not worry!”

She looked at the ruined page again and, giving an exaggerated sigh, dropped it to a wastepaper basket under the desk.

Elrond smiled to her in a way he hoped would say there was no real need to worry, and hurried to his private chambers. He changed his dress quickly to a tunic and trousers, and exactly fifteen minutes later met the guard at the stables.

Once they reached the ford, Elrond discovered there was indeed currently a lake in its place. The melting waters gathered behind the unwanted dam at an alarming speed. They continued down to the gorge the guard had pointed out from the map, and Elrond’s heart sank.

He had the unpleasant feeling this had all happened before. There were three other guards by the ice-dam, waiting for him, looking worried.

Elrond inspected the dam carefully, and came to the same conclusion that the guard. It could only be described as huge.

Well, there was another word he was able to use. Unstable.

He turned to the guards, and chose one to address his words to: “Go and get Master Tórion, hurry!”

The way he saw it, since this had proved to be the right course of action in the past, it was a good start also now.

Tórion appeared swiftly, and raised an eyebrow to the offensive dam. Elrond pulled the map from his pocket, and started to explain:

“You can see the graveness of the situation yourself. Considering the amount of water Bruinen currently carries, there is a risk of whole Rivendell flooding, and fast too”.

Tórion inspected the dam with an experienced eye.

“No worries, my lord”, he replied, “I will get some people down here immediately, we will break the dam easily. As a matter of fact, I could probably do it alone. It is not very stable, a well-aimed rock to a right place, and the whole thing would just collapse”.

“But that is exactly what we cannot do”, Elrond interrupted.

Tórion gave him a confused look, and Elrond opened the map and began to explain:

“The dam is here, this is the gorge. If you follow it southwards, you will see that it bends three times… the walls are high, and of solid rock, so the water will have no escape. The gorge ends here, and the river bends again. In the bend is the village of Imlond.

“There is an enormous amount of water behind the dam, and the land drops heavily, by the time the flood reaches the village it will be unstoppable… can you see the problem now?”

He noticed Tórion saw the problem. The younger elf had turned pale.

“We cannot break the dam without harming those people”, Elrond continued, “But we also cannot allow our home to be destroyed. Besides, as you said, the dam really is unstable; it could break any moment even without our help”.

“But can you not just use Vilya again?”, inquired Tórion.

Elrond sighed. “I fear not this time. The river is simply too…” he searched for a right word, “…wild at the moment. I could probably control it for a few minutes, but in the end it would exhaust me, and the waters would be loose again”.

They considered their possibilities for a moment. Finally, one of the guards spoke up:

“Could we not dig a channel around the dam?”

“To rock?” Tórion shook his head. “We would need to hack our way through solid stone, it would take too much time”.

“Do we have another option?”

Elrond paid no attention to the conversation behind him. He stared at the opposite shore, deep in thought.

It was lower than this one. Next to them, a high cliff rose towards the sky, but on the other side of the now-waterless river the actual gorge began less dramatically. It would take time, even if every soul in Rivendell would participate, from Elrond himself to little Brithla. But they had to try.

“We will do it”, he said, turning towards the others again, “We will try to dig, or hack, a channel to the opposite shore”.

Tórion began to shake his head again, but Elrond gave him a determined look.

“We must try something”, he said, and Tórion nodded, understanding.

“Gather everyone you possibly can here”, Elrond ordered. Then he addressed the four guards:

“Would you accompany me to the village, we must warn those people”.

The guards rushed to their horses, and so did Elrond.

They followed a small passage through the cliffs on the eastern shore of Bruinen. Elrond was worried, and not only because of the dam. He wondered what kind of a reception they would get in the village.

There had once been a friendship between the people of Imlond and Rivendell. 500 years ago, to be precise. It had mainly consisted of avoiding each other politely, but it had still happened in a friendly manner. The men stayed out of Rivendell, and the elves from Imlond.

But men forgot so easily. And their minds toyed with what might be, instead of what really was. Perhaps it began innocently enough as a bedtime story about the dark elven-sorcerer who lived in the mountains. Soon parents would be telling their children that if they misbehaved, Elrond would come and eat them for dinner. And then the children had grown up, and forgot it was only meant to be a story. Or maybe they said: “The stories must start from something, surely there’s some truth in them”.

At first it had troubled Elrond, but he had learned long ago to ignore what people thought of him if it was not relevant. The men avoided Rivendell, the elves avoided Imlond, and everyone was happy.

Until today.

Elrond could see from the careful glances his guards gave to him, that they were also wondering what might happen once they reached the village.

TBC…