Title: The Snow is White
Author: Reona
Email: [email protected]
Website: http://hometown.aol.com/reona32/enter.html
Archive: Fanfiction.net
Pairing(s): Elrond/Glorfindel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While floating in the air and before it reaches the land, the snow is always white. Never forget that.
Disclaimer: I don’t own LotR. I do own this story and any odd characters that show up.
Authors Note: Dae, the black cat, is a regular character of mine. Meneréiel, the healer, I made up also. Congrats if you caught some of the traditional rituals used. Double congrats if you can tell which ones I made up and those I tinkered for my purpose. The injury thing is a running joke at my house. I’m guessing at the Elvish and so are you.

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So far today he had treated two sprained ankles, one sprained wrist, one broken finger, and more bruises then he could easily recall. Unfortunately, they hadn’t even reached noontime yet. He dreaded what the rest of the day might bring. Of course, he really couldn’t be that surprised. This happened every year since he could remember and he had a long memory.

Elrond, dressed in heavy winter clothing and with an annoyed look upon his face, sat in his Study. The light coming in from the glass balcony doors behind him was harshly bright, an affect of it being bounced off the white snow piled up outside on the stone floor. Beyond the railing of the balcony, the trees and gardens were covered in snow, creating an endless sheet of white. Everything appeared to have dawned clothing of the finest white silk; even the river wore a costume of icy white. A gentle wind blew through the valley from the mountains, carrying tiny flakes of more snow to be added to the winter landscape.

The lord of Imladris knew that many of his people were down at the river skating or running through the gardens playing in the snow. He also knew that the Hall of Healing would be handing out ointments for bruised and sore bodies like it was candy. Speaking of candy, Elrond eyed the dish of chocolate squares with suspicion. The entire cooking staff was against him this time of year. No matter how many dishes and trays of goodies he removed from his private rooms more just reappeared in their place. He was going to have to put locks on the servant entrances at this rate.

Elrond moved the dish away from himself and stood. Ignoring another dish of fudge near the door, he exited the room. For a moment, he stood undecided in the hallway, the light from a near by stain glass window falling over him. Finally, he turned and began a brisk pace down the hall. Wreaths of evergreen hung on the walls between the arched windows and holly sprigs dangled from the candle sconces. Colored cloth was draped around the arms of a chandelier at the end of the hall before the stairs and the banisters of the steps were woven with strands of evergreen and pearls.

Elrond descended the stairs and walked along the hall past the Library, where he knew that more ropes of evergreen were strung across the tall stain glass windows. At the end of the hall he went through a large archway and out into the greeting hall. To the right was the equally large archway that led to the Hall of Fire and to the left was a grand staircase that led to the upper levels of the house. The front of the hall was a large open terrace where visitors entered from the main courtyard, now covered in snow. The temperature dropped several degrees in the greeting hall because of the open terrace but no complaints were made. Several large braziers were lit to keep people warm if they wished to dwell in this front hall.

Again, evergreen wreaths decorated the walls and ropes of the garland wrapped around the stairs. But the decoration that really caught the eye of every inhabitant and visitor to Imladris was the large evergreen tree in the center of the hall. The tree stood upon a tiled medallion and was many feet high. Decorated with glass balls and trinkets from the people, the tree glowed with warm golden light from many lit candles. A diamond and mithril star crowned the tree in honor of Elbereth. Near the end of the solstice celebration, families would come and collect branches from the tree to burn. The ashes of those branches would then be scattered around the house and placed in a special urn in one of the courtyards for good luck.

After that, some of the ashes would be taken down to the river in a candle lit precession. Dressed in fine warm cloaks and carrying many lanterns and candle sconces, every visitor and inhabitant of Imladris would walk down to the river where a hole would be cut into the ice and then the ashes thrown into the water. The ashes then would become a part of the river, which protected the valley. The group would then sing praises to the Valar, thanking them for the return of the sun. Their voices, Elven and other wise, would fill the valley with song and hopefully reach all the way to the stars and Valinor. All across Middle-Earth, the people celebrated Winter Solstice with song, dance, and feasts.

Elrond crossed the hall, ignoring the many people still hanging decorations for the celebration. He stopped on the top stair of the terrace, staring out at the snow covered courtyard and the bridge that crossed to the other side of the valley gorge. To the left the large waterfall still roared but Elrond knew that most of the river was frozen solid. The snow in the courtyard was pit marked with footprints and horses’ hoof prints, showing the amount of traffic from the many visitors. Although not perfectly smooth anymore, the snow was still a gleaming white. Feeling the bite of the cold slightly, for his mixed blood often afforded him such things, Elrond hugged his arms.

The Elf lord knew that under his feet the kitchen was busy as the hall behind him. The feast for the next day had to be prepared and those things that could be started or completed the day before were already underway. Elrond had seen to the last report regarding that some hours ago and knew that Mistress Fainlith, the head cook, had everything under control. He really must talk with her about those mysteriously appearing treats too. Honestly, an Elf could only eat so much chocolate before becoming sick of it.

A painful yelp sounded behind him and Elrond flinched. For a moment he waited for his name to be called but the festive buzz of activity behind him did not ebb. The injury must have been minor then. Someone probably just stubbed his or her toe. Elrond relaxed again, returning his gaze to the white snow. As he watched, some Elflings raced around the corner, dropping down into the snow and putting something under a bare bush. After a moment they stood and raced away. Elrond felt no worries at their mischief; the practice of hiding treats around the house to appease naughty spirits was one that even he could remember doing in winter. He was willing to bet that some small animal would be finding a sugar cookie under that bush in a few minutes.

Speaking of small animals. A cautious animal, with fur as black as jet and eyes of amber, was making its way around the edge of the courtyard, sniffing at the cracks of the walls for rodents. Elrond smiled and clapped his hands softly. “Dae!” he called. The cat’s ears flickered and she lifted her head. Seeing the Elf upon the terrace, the cat bounded through the snow and up the steps. With a small laugh, Elrond bent and picked her up, brushing snow from her paws as she began to purr. Slim fingers sought the tender spot behind Dae’s ear and the cat began to purr in earnest. “How are you, Dae?” asked Elrond. A pleased meow was his answer and the cat began to knead his robes in pleasure.

Smiling, Elrond returned his gaze to the snow, narrowing his eyes against the brightness. Imladris had seen many winter seasons and many solstice celebrations over the long centuries. The valley had changed since then, the rock being reshaped and the river cutting new paths. It was the way of things, for the Elves to remain the same while the whole world about them changed. Long ago, Elrond could remember solstice celebrations held in Ossiriand when Gil-galad and Elros were still alive, even before Beleriand had fallen into the sea. But that had been before their Choice and before the War of the Last Alliance. Before the snow had ceased to be white.

Nothing was white in Mordor, in that land of dark shadow. In the winter months during the siege the snow that fell was yellowed with the smoke and ash that spilled from Orodruin. Then that tainted snow had been further darkened by the war. Elves, Men, and Orcs fought across the snow covered plain, turning the powder into a red slush as blood spilled. Mud had mixed into it then, churned up by their movements, covering the fighters from head to toe. The wounded had been covered in the disgusting mix, shivering in cold as healers desperately tried to save them or at least ease their passing. Even Elven fingers and toes froze if given enough time. Men died quicker, frozen where they lay with their eyes wide open, staring up at you and you were unable to close their eyes for they were frozen into that position. And the snow around them was not white but red, stained a dark red from their lifeblood. And the snow had ceased to be white. It was never white during that time.

Elrond struggled to control his breathing, feeling himself begin to hyperventilate. Dae, held tightly in his arms, meowed in worry as the half-Elf tried to pull himself away from the memories; memories that were dark and choking in their power, even after all that time. And the snow ceased to be white.

Elrond tensed as he felt two arms wrap around his shoulders. “What are you doing out here without your cloak and gloves?” asked a soft voice against his ear. Elrond all but dropped Dae to the ground and turned in the embrace, burying his head into a velvet covered shoulder. Glorfindel frowned as he felt the half-Elf lord shiver against him but he did not think it was from the cold. “Elrond?” he muttered, raising a hand to stroke his dark hair. “What is the matter?”

Elrond gave a mighty shudder and lifted his head slightly. “The snow is white,” he said with conviction.

Glorfindel glanced around the main courtyard, searching for the thing that could have upset the dark haired Elf. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “A very beautiful white.” Elrond was silent for a moment and Glorfindel touched his cheek carefully. “Elrond?” the blond asked.

Elrond sighed, a little cloud of vapor blooming from his lips. “It wasn’t always white,” he muttered softly.

Glorfindel’s eyes widened and he pulled Elrond back into his embrace, understanding the meaning behind the words. For a moment, he simply stood with the half-Elf in his arms. “The snow is white,” he muttered. Elrond nodded against his neck. After a moment, a pitiful meow sounded from by their feet. Glorfindel looked down and smiled as Dae gazed up at him with annoyed amber eyes. “I’m sorry. Are we ignoring you?”

Elrond chuckled and lifted his head, looking down too. “Sorry, Dae,” he apologized. He pulled away from Glorfindel and picked the cat up again. “I didn’t mean to drop you.” Dae suffered a kiss upon her head from the half-Elf, only huffing a little. Elrond smiled at the cat’s behavior. Glorfindel leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, causing some young she-Elves near by to giggle. A soft red stain spread across Elrond’s cheeks and nose and he glared at the small group, causing the young ones to scatter. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he muttered without heat to Glorfindel.

The blond Elf smiled. “That’s why I do it,” he replied. Glorfindel quickly kissed his cheek again and then whispered into his ear, “Feel better?” Elrond nodded his head a little, hugging Dae. Glorfindel smiled and put an arm around the half-Elf’s waist. “Good! Now, what are you doing out here without your cloak and gloves?” he repeated.

Elrond blinked and sighed; he knew Glorfindel would not let that go. “I’m not really outside, Glorfindel,” he answered.

Glorfindel looked down at the floor, cocking his eyebrow as he saw they stood only a foot away from the edge of the cold snow. He glared slightly at Elrond. “You’re close enough and without proper clothing,” he complained. Elrond rolled his eyes as Glorfindel pulled him further inside, heading for the stairs. During the cold winter months, Glorfindel always acted like this. Being only half Elven, Elrond could feel the cold and Glorfindel hated it if he was even near the wintry weather without warm clothing on. “Come, I have something for you,” said the blond.

Elrond frowned. “Glorfindel, none of us are supposed to receive our gifts until tomorrow,” he said.

Glorfindel led him to a small table at the bottom of the stairs and handed him a blue box with a white ribbon around it. “I know, but tomorrow will be too late,” he exclaimed. Elrond made a skeptical face as he accepted the box. “Please?” pleaded Glorfindel.

Elrond sighed and sat down on one of the steps with the box in his lap. “Very well, Glorfindel,” he said. Glorfindel gave a gleeful little squeak that made Elrond laugh and sat down on the stairs behind him, putting his legs on either side of the half-Elf.

“Open it,” ordered Glorfindel.

Elrond undid the ribbon, which Glorfindel took from him and deftly braided into his hair. Elrond smiled at the gesture and slowly slipped the lid off of the box. Pushing aside some silk cloth he found an elaborate crystal and silver ornament of a snowflake. Slowly, Elrond lifted the decoration from the box. The snowflake hung from a satin ribbon and shone in the light, tossing out little rainbows. He cocked his head and smiled softly, watching the colors dance. “It’s beautiful,” Elrond breathed.

Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Elrond’s waist and leaned his chin against his shoulder. “Do you like it?” he asked. Elrond nodded and turned his head to kiss Glorfindel on the lips. Glorfindel smiled into the kiss and squeezed Elrond’s middle softly. “Then you’ll like the others just as much,” he said as they parted.

“Others?” asked Elrond in confusion.

Glorfindel grinned and quickly stood, pulling the half-Elf after him. The empty box clattered to the floor as Glorfindel hurried up the stairs, Elrond’s free hand in his own. “Yes, the others!” exclaimed the blond.

Elrond, the snowflake ornament clutched tightly in his other hand, was forced to follow him up the stairs. “Glorfindel!” he cried. “Have you gone mad?”

Glorfindel laughed as he raced down the hall. “What if I have?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit,” said Elrond as he hurried after him. Glorfindel grinned over his shoulder at the half-Elf. A few turns later brought them to their rooms and Glorfindel stopped. “What now?” asked Elrond as they stood before the door. Glorfindel motioned him to open the door and Elrond cocked his head at him. The blond just smiled and pushed him forward gently. Sighing, Elrond carefully opened the door, suspecting something to jump out at him. He wouldn’t put it past his twins to be waiting inside with some mischief on their minds.

The room was dark except for the center of the floor. An evergreen tree, smaller than the one in the hall, stood in the center of the room. A soft gasp sounded from Elrond and he smiled. Upon the tree were many silver and crystal snowflakes, just like the one he still held. The lit candles on the tree caused the ornaments to reflect many tiny rainbows around the room, just as the single one had in the greeting hall.

Elrond felt Glorfindel come to stand behind him and turned, throwing his arms around the other’s shoulders and kissing him. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around the half-Elf’s waist and hugged him. A light touch to the seam of his lips caused Elrond to willingly part them, allowing Glorfindel’s tongue entrance. Glorfindel groaned and swept his tongue around the sweet carven, stroking the roof of his mouth. Elrond sighed in pleasure and slipped his hand under Glorfindel’s hair, massaging the back of his neck with cool fingers.

The snowflake ornament bumped Glorfindel in his shoulder blade and the blond slowly released the kiss. He stroked Elrond’s cheek, cupping his cheek in his palm. Glorfindel dropped another kiss to the corner of Elrond’s mouth and smiled. “Let’s add the snowflake to the tree,” he said. Turning Elrond, Glorfindel guided him to the tree and pointed out the gap he had reserved for the ornament Elrond held. Carefully, Elrond hung the snowflake in the spot.

Tree complete, the pair stepped back and gazed at the beautiful plant. “It’s wonderful, Glorfindel. Thank you,” Elrond said. He leaned up and kissed the underside of the blonde’s jaw, smiling as Glorfindel shivered. Glorfindel smiled also and turned his head to capture Elrond’s lips again. He raised one hand to cup the back of his head, treading his fingers through the dark hair. Elrond pressed his body against Glorfindel, clutching at the blonde’s arms. Both groaned as their tongues danced together, licking across smooth teeth and warm flesh. Glorfindel stroked his other hand across Elrond’s hip, sliding his arm around his waist and cupping his ass. He pressed the half-Elf forward, grinding their bodies together. Elrond sighed into Glorfindel’s mouth and moved one hand to the ties of the blonde’s tunic.

A sharp tug loosened the tunic and Elrond let his hands fall to unbuckle the belt around Glorfindel’s waist. Glorfindel pushed Elrond’s robe from his shoulders and the dark haired Elf allowed it to slid to the floor. Glorfindel’s belt and tunic quickly followed, the metal buckle thumping on the rug. They returned to the kiss, franticly nipping at each other and panting.

A red drop.

Elrond suddenly drew back with a shiver and a sound akin to pain. Glorfindel stopped his attempt to unbutton the back of the long tunic Elrond wore and looked at him in concern. “What is wrong?” he asked. Elrond’s eyes were closed and there was a look of concentration upon his face.

Another drop of red onto frozen water, creating a trail from bank to bank.

Elrond’s connection to his valley afforded him knowledge of many of the land’s secrets; control of the Ford being one of them. He could tell when people crossed the river into his valley from the west but, unless fell beasts tried to gain entrance, he usually paid it little heed. Now, all his senses were turned toward the river as someone crossed the frozen Ford. Blood had been spilt. Elrond opened his eyes and looked at Glorfindel with worry. “Someone crosses the Ford,” he said.

Glorfindel tensed. “Orcs?”

Elrond quickly shook his head, his mussed hair falling around his shoulders. “Nay, no fell beasts but the Bruinen tells me blood has fallen. Glorfindel, I am worried,” the half-Elf said.

Glorfindel nodded and stepped back, getting his body under control. He forced his blood to cool and his breathing to slow. “I will take riders and see what has happened,” he said. He reached down and swept up his tunic, dawning it.

“It could be nothing,” said Elrond, uncertainty in his voice.

Glorfindel strapped on his belt and shook his head. He gently cupped Elrond cheek and smiled. “Nay, if it concerns you then it is not nothing,” he said. Glorfindel swiftly kissed him and turned away, quickly heading for the door. “I will see what it is.”

Elrond snatched his robe up from the floor and slipped it on before hurrying after Glorfindel. A glance out a window in the hallway showed that the sky was still grey and that snow was now falling heavily. An uneasy feeling settled over his mind and Elrond hurried down the hall. In his mind’s eyes, he watched another drop of sourceless blood fall onto the frozen river. When Elrond reached the greeting hall, he found that horses had already been gathered in the main courtyard and that five other riders had joined Glorfindel. The blond was just dawning his winter cloak and strapping on his sword as Elrond hurried down the stairs.

The workers in the hall looked on curiously. Erestor appeared through the main archway and calmed their worries. Elrond neared the terrace, meaning to tell them to be cautious when Glorfindel saw him. The blond pointed at him sharply and yelled from the courtyard, “Not without your cloak and gloves!” Elrond had to pinwheel his arms slightly to maintain his balance as he stopped before his toes touched the snow. He looked annoyed at Glorfindel and the blond smiled at him. “I’ll never forgive you if you catch a chill,” Glorfindel said.

Elrond rolled his eyes as Glorfindel mounted Asfaloth and Erestor came to stand beside him. “My lord? Is anything amiss?” asked the adviser.

Elrond watched as the group rode across the bridge and shook his head. “Glorfindel is going to check upon someone crossing the Ford,” he answered. Elrond turned to Erestor as the group disappeared and saw the adviser gain a worried look.

“Should we prepare for attack?” asked Erestor.

Elrond quickly shook his head and clasped his friend’s hands in comfort. “Nay, we are not in any danger, Erestor. I believe this person or persons need our help for the river has told me blood has fallen. They could be wounded,” he said. Erestor nodded his understanding, relaxing. Elrond smiled and continued, “I want lamps lit in the courtyard and along the bridge. Then have the healers ready themselves. I know not how many have crossed the Ford that may need help but I will not be caught unprepared.”

Erestor pulled away and bowed. “I shall see to it, my lord,” he said. The dark haired adviser hurried away, calling to a few of the workers.

Elrond turned to a maid that stood near by, a young she-Elf in a woolen dress with blue apron and bonnet. “Please have my cloak and gloves sent to me,” he said to her. The maid bowed and hurried off up the stairs, heading for her lord’s rooms where she would find the requested clothing. Elrond turned back to the snow covered courtyard and backed away until the chill of the wind was not quite so harsh. He would never hear the end of it from Glorfindel if his nose were so much as pink from the cold.

“Ada?” came the cry behind him and Elrond turned to find his sons racing across the hall toward him. They stopped before him and looked at their father anxiously. “Ada, what is the matter? Is something wrong?” asked Elladan.

Elrond shook his head and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Wounded may be coming to Imladris, my sons. I need to you go help the healers,” he said.

Both twins nodded. “We will, Ada,” they agreed. Elrond watched them hurry off to the Hall of Healing and turned back to the terrace to wait.

The ride to and from the Ford took a little over half an hour to complete and by that time Elrond stood waiting anxiously on the terrace. Some minutes earlier, Meneréiel had joined him with a bag of supplies, having been informed that wounded might be coming to the house. “Do we know anything?” the other healer asked.

Elrond shook his head and rung his hands, hoping he wasn’t making something out of nothing. “Nay. To be truthful, I am not even sure there is wounded,” he said.

Meneréiel shook her head and laid a hand upon her old teacher’s shoulder. “I trust your instincts, my lord. If your heart tells you something is amiss, then it must be so,” she said.

Elrond nodded, his grey eyes fixed upon the bridge. A heavy weight did rest upon his heart and Elrond tried to calm himself with Meneréiel’s words. Suddenly, a member of the group that had gone with Glorfindel appeared on the other ridge and rode across the bridge. Elrond and Meneréiel raced down the terrace steps and into the snow covered courtyard. The cold winter wind caught at their cloaks as the guard jumped from his mount. “What news?” demanded Elrond.

“A small band of Men were attacked just outside the boarders by marauders. Their wounds are slight except for a woman who bleeds heavily from a sword blade,” answered the guard. The sound of horses upon the bridge pulled their attention up and they saw Glorfindel’s group coming across the bridge. About two dozen men, woman, and children came with them. The Imladris riders headed straight for the stables, leaving the courtyard to the humans.

Elrond turned back to the terrace. “Erestor,” he called. “Take the lesser wounded to the Hall of Healing and have them treated. Those that do not need medical attention can rest in the Hall of Fire.” The adviser barely nodded in acknowledgement as he started sorting out people. “Meneréiel, you’re with me,” added Elrond. The half-Elf found Glorfindel’s bright hair in the small crowd and he went to him. The blond Elf was kneeling in the snow beside a woman, who he could only see the legs of at that angle. Another man with dark hair knelt on the woman’s other side and two younger men stood behind him, both still in their teens by appearances. Elrond touched Glorfindel on the shoulder. “Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel glanced up at him and then looked at the Man across from him. “This is Lord Elrond, he can help your wife,” he said.

The Man’s cloudy eyes lifted from the woman’s face to look at Elrond and the half-Elf almost recoiled, feeling burned by the gaze. “You can help?” the man asked heartbrokenly.

Elrond felt himself nod and pulled his eyes away to look at the woman. She was wrapped tightly in a blanket but Elrond could see that some red blood stained her right shoulder. The woman’s square shaped face was deathly pale and her hair dark against the snow. To his amazement, her eyes were open and looking tiredly at him. Elrond dredged up a smile for her. “Take her into the Hall and into a private room,” he ordered. Meneréiel aided the man in lifting his wife, a look of detached pain crossing the woman’s face as they moved her. Elrond turned to Glorfindel, noting that he had blood across the front of his tunic. “I was told that marauders did this?” he asked sharply. Glorfindel nodded, an anticipatory look in his eyes. “Find them,” ordered Elrond. Glorfindel turned on his heel, his steel hard voice rising to call orders. Elrond hurried up the steps of the terrace, shedding his cloak and gloves on the floor, and rushed toward the Hall of Healing.

The main room of the Hall of Healing was controlled chaos when Elrond entered. He quickly walked down the center isle, ignoring his lesser healers as they treated cuts, gashes, and bumps. About four young children were being soothed by one of the healers in the corner, their parents among those that needed to be treated. Blankets were being wrapped around chilled forms and soup given for empty bellies. Elrond went to the last room upon the right and entered it. There he found the human family and Meneréiel.

The woman lay upon the bed, her husband beside her. Their children, for they must be so, stood in the corner and Elrond had not the heart to order them out. “Meneréiel?” asked Elrond.

The she-Elf healer had already taken up a warm cloth and was bathing the woman’s face. “I have been told that she has two arrow wounds that have been cut off as well as a sword wound to the right shoulder,” answered Meneréiel.

Elrond slowly pealed back the blanket, revealing a woolen dress underneath. The woman muttered something as the cloth was removed. Blood stained her right leg and her left side around arrow shafts that had been broken off, leaving the stump of the shaft only. Her right shoulder was a mess of soiled red cloth and Elrond knew that was where the sword wound was, bleeding even now. The woman muttered something again and Elrond frowned. “What did you say?” he asked.

The woman’s words were so soft that Elrond had to lean down and put his ear to her lips. Chilled breath tickled his skin as the woman whispered again, “The snow is red.”

Elrond paused and closed his eyes, sorrow filling his heart. He moved his head and leaned down near her ear. “Nay, you are wrong. The snow is white,” he said to her. The woman jerked as if stuck and Elrond looked up to find her unconscious. “Meneréiel, you work upon her shoulder while I remove and mend the arrow wounds,” said Elrond. Meneréiel went to the door, calling for hot water, herbs, and bandages.

“Will she be able to walk after you remove the arrow in her leg?” asked the man, worry in his voice.

Elrond knelt by the woman’s leg and unwrapped the soiled cloth from the wound. The flesh around the arrow shaft was an angry red and blood still seeped from the hole. Grabbing a wet cloth from a helper, Elrond gently cleaned away the dried blood and then placed his hands palms down around the wound. “We do not remove arrows like you,” muttered Elrond. He closed his eyes and ignored everything around him, shutting out the man and the room. In his mind’s eye, he focused on the area of flesh where the arrow was imbedded, seeing broken veins and the metal head of the arrow. The flesh abhorred the arrow, this foreign thing that had pierced it. The flesh wanted it gone; it wanted to mend and be whole again. Elrond felt something uncoil inside him and reached out with that, using it to grab onto the arrow. The shaft slowly moved back, carefully remaining in the path of the already damaged flesh.

Normally, one would force the arrow through instead of pulling it out. One risked having the arrowhead come off if they pulled it out but one also risked creating further damage by pushing it through. Elrond, using the body’s natural desire to be whole, used his healing power to remove the arrow without risk of it coming apart. When the arrow shaft fell to the floor, Elrond then stanched the resulting blood flow, mending veins. After searching for any missed pieces of wood or metal, Elrond moved away. Another healer took his place quickly, beginning to clean, medicate, and then wrap the wound in bandages so that it could finish healing on its own.

Elrond rounded the bed and gently moved the stunned man, kneeling at the arrow shaft in the woman’s side and repeating the process. When that arrow also fell to the floor, Elrond stood and sought Meneréiel. The she-Elf healer was just finishing wrapping the shoulder wound, a bowl of dirty water by her elbow. Like the arrows, the sword wound had to be cleaned, medicated, and wrapped after the worse of the damage was healed. Elrond moved away and washed his hands, claiming a cup of herb tea from a helper. He returned to the bed and sat by it, carefully spooning the liquid into the woman’s mouth. The tea would help her body to fight off infection and heal quicker. But, she still breathed.

A soft knock at the door pulled Elrond’s attention away from the figure on the bed and he saw a young page standing there. “Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel has returned,” said the young Elf.

Elrond blinked dry eyes and turned to look out the window. It was dark outside; they had spent many hours working on the woman’s injuries. “Take him to my Study, Doron. I shall be there shortly,” he told the page. Doron bowed and disappeared out of the door. Suddenly feeling the weight of time pulling at him, Elrond forced himself to stand and walk to the husband. The two children had fallen asleep some time ago and rested on cots in the corner. “If all goes well until morning, you’re wife should be fine,” Elrond told the man softly.

The man blinked wide eyes at him and then suddenly lowered his head. Quickly, he snatched up Elrond’s hand and pulled it to his forehead. “Thank you, my lord,” he muttered.

Of all the reactions he had experienced over his lifetime, this was the one that unsettled him the most. Elrond pulled his hand away and tilted the man’s head up. “I would do no less for any other,” Elrond said. “Take some rest, good sir. Morning will come soon enough.” Elrond turned away from the man’s adoring face and left the room.

The main room of the Hall of Healing had settled into quiet, the lamps turned down so that the remaining injured that needed to be observed overnight could rest. Men, woman, and a few children rested in the many cots along the hall, wrapped snuggly in warm blankets. Elrond knew that anyone not within this Hall would be resting in guest rooms in the house, having been placed there hours ago by Erestor and his staff. The half-Elf didn’t know what he would do without the dark haired adviser; he must remember to thank him later for his efforts.

Elrond noticed that near the archway one cot had several people around it, at least four others beside the person on the cot. Elrond paused and took a few steps closer. One of the people around the cot had aging grey hair and two other were also adults. But the last two, including the one on the cot, were children. A young boy sat holding the hand of a small girl in the cot, whose head was wrapped within a bandage. Blood stained the right side of her head, seeping through the white cloth of the bandage. Elrond wondered how long the little girl had lain in the snow after the attack, staining the snow red. She was so young, so small with one tiny foot peeking out from under the blanket. Her long hair was a bright auburn color and Elrond knew that were he to see her eyes they would be the deepest green. A beautiful child that had seen horrible things this day.

Elrond’s eyes burned and he found himself leaning over to lightly touch the toes of the child. Casting off whatever fatigue he felt from his earlier healing, he allowed some of his energy to pour into the child. The tips of his fingers and her toes glowed soft silver before Elrond pulled away. The child murmured in her sleep and then settled. “The snow is white,” Elrond felt compelled to remind the empty night. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, the half-Elf turned swiftly and left the Hall of Healing and its painful silence.

The trip to his Study was made quickly, Elrond fairly running at points. He forced himself to pause and calm his breathing when he reached the doors to his Study before entering. Glorfindel, still dressed in the same wet clothing he had wore into the snow, sat in the chair before the desk with his back to the door. The blond Elf was bent forward, one arm upon the desktop holding his head up. Elrond frowned and then noticed the red stain upon the Elf’s other arm. “You’re hurt!” he exclaimed.

Glorfindel looked up in surprise as Elrond rushed across the room and knelt beside him. His blue eyes looked down at where his jerkin had been sliced, blood seeping from his skin. “It’s nothing,” he said. He quieted at Elrond’s frustrated look and meekly allowed the half-Elf to clean and bind the cut with supplies kept in his desk.

Elrond gently tucked the end of the bandage into the fold and dropped his hands to rest on the arm of the chair. For a moment he just started at Glorfindel, seeing a streak of mud upon his cheek and a bruise forming along his jaw. “Someone hit you,” he muttered. Glorfindel nodded, remaining silent. “What happened?” asked Elrond.

Glorfindel sighed. “We tracked the marauders from the attack site deeper into the forest. We found them attacking a farmer with his cart, throwing the food into the snow and laughing.” The blonde’s lips were pressed together, a bloodless white. “They had not harmed the farm or the worker with him, yet. We caught them by surprise and were able to subdue them after a small skirmish.” Glorfindel pinched the bridge of his nose. “We took them all to the nearest human settlement. It appears the group has been hunted for quite sometime, many of them had charges for murder. We left it to their hands.”

Elrond nodded slowly and then placed his head on Glorfindel’s thigh. “It is well that they do,” he agreed with Glorfindel’s coarse of action. He breathed in deeply, taking in the soothing scent of his lover. Elrond felt a soft hand touch his hair and stroke the fine strands.

“The woman and the other wounded?” asked Glorfindel.

“They will all survive,” replied Elrond. He paused for a moment and then bit his lip. “Although, I fear the wounds will pain her in her later years. And none of them will be rid of the scars as long as they live.” The hand stroking his hair paused and then continued its soothing journey. Elrond lifted his head after a moment. “For all my years dealing with humans and my own mixed blood, I do not understand humans sometimes. How could they…” He was silenced by a gentle finger on his lips and Glorfindel shook his head softly. The blond then leaned down and replaced his finger with his lips, tenderly kissing Elrond. He kept the kiss light, dancing across the cool flesh and licking gently. Elrond smiled and raised one hand to cup Glorfindel’s cheek. After the other Elf pulled back, Elrond rubbed at the mud on his skin. “You need a bath, Glorfindel,” the half-Elf said.

Glorfindel nodded tiredly. “We could all use some rest,” he said. Elrond stood and pulled the blond Elf to his feet. Quietly they left the Study and walked down the hall, heading for their chambers. Elrond slid his hand into Glorfindel’s and laid his head upon his shoulder. At the end of the corridor they met with the twins, both coming from the direction of the Hall of Healing, but the small group remained silent. They walked into the family wing and traded soft farewells and goodnights before disappearing into their respective rooms. Outside, white snow swirled in the winter wind.

The morning dawned cold and pale, the east just blushing with the coming of the sun, when Glorfindel stirred. Cocooned in warm blankets, the blond Elf was loath to move from the bed. His body was still sore from the fight with the human marauders. Although the bath he had taken before bed last night had helped ease some of the pain, a few places still expressed their displeasure with him. But he knew that his physical pain was really nothing to the stress the Elrond must be under, using a power few true Fallaner had to heal the wounds of another person.

Something warm moved against him and Glorfindel groggily lifted his head to see Elrond’s dark hair upon his shoulder. He pressed a kiss on the dark strands and sighed, pulling Elrond into his arms. For a long moment, silence ruled the cool morning. Then, bells softly sounded somewhere in the house, ringing out through the valley. “It’s Winter Solstice,” whispered Glorfindel. Elrond murmured and snuggled into Glorfindel’s embrace. The blond smiled and rolled his eyes. He tugged at Elrond’s long dark hair; much to the half-Elf’s annoyance. “They will expect us to be there for the feast,” said Glorfindel.

“They can find the Hall by themselves,” said Elrond into Glorfindel’s shoulder. “It hasn’t moved since yesterday.” Glorfindel laughed, the vibrations causing Elrond to raise his head. “Are you trying to tell me that we need to get up and dress?”

“Unfortunately,” said Glorfindel with mirth. “I’m sure there are at least three Elves waiting in the servant corridor to do your hair.”

Elrond groaned and let his head fell back to the bed. “Holidays,” he muttered darkly. As with all holidays, the lord of Imladris must dress to impress; which also included a suitably complicated hairstyle. “They’re all evil.” Glorfindel laughed and rolled out of bed, pulling Elrond with him. The blond guided him to the bath chamber and Elrond pouted but forced himself dawn a robe and then open the panel door to the servant corridor. As Glorfindel predicted, a number of Elves waited and fell upon the two Elf lords.

Silver ribbons and white gems were braided into Elrond’s dark hair and he suffered himself to be dressed in robes of rich velvet and silk. The dark violet pants and knee length kirtle with silver sash were made of silk and the dark blue outer robe was made of warm velvet. Over that went a fine cape of mid-night blue that had delicate silver scrolling along the boarder.

Even Glorfindel did not escape them, having a gold clip with a red ruby placed in his hair. His own clothing was no less rich than Elrond’s, although the blond Elf could get away with wearing tunic and leggings while Elrond must wear formal robes. Finally, after a few pieces of jewelry and some nice smelling rose extract, the Elves deemed that their lord was suitably dressed and left. As the servant door closed, Elrond removed a brooch at his throat and readjust the collar of his shirt so he could breathe, replacing the jewelry as Glorfindel laughed. The blond then helped the half-Elf to retie the sash around his waist so he could sit more comfortable. Only after Elrond could breathe and move without pain, did the pair leave their rooms.

Glorfindel offered Elrond his arm as they walked down the hall and Elrond smiled as he took it. The trip to the grand staircase was done in silence. At the archway to the landing, they found the twins and Erestor waiting for them. Elladan wore robes of blue while his brother Elrohir wore robes of green. Both had their hair done up with ribbons and gems and at their throats were matching brooches. The pair greeted Elrond and Glorfindel with hugs and smiles. Erestor, dressed in robes of black and gold, waited patiently for the family to get into position. Elrond and Glorfindel stood in front with Elladan and Elrohir behind them. Erestor took up his position at the rear, a position that he could remember sharing with Glorfindel once. He rather preferred the blond Elf up beside Elrond.

As was tradition, the small group then made their way down the stairs to the greeting hall. In the hall, gathered around the lit tree, were the visitors and inhabitants of Imladris. Bells rang again as they walked down the stairs and stopped at the bottom step. The gathered people quieted and Glorfindel stepped away from Elrond. “Winter Solstice is the time when we heralded the return of the sun,” said Elrond, beginning his habitual speech. “It is also that time when we gather to celebrate each other. Family and friends gather together to celebrate, to give gifts, and remember the past fortunes of the year.” Elrond’s eyes easily picked out the human members of the gathered group that were from those that had been attacked yesterday. His gaze fell upon a certain man’s face and he smiled, seeing the two teenage sons also with him in the hall. He knew then that the woman faired well that morning. “We are happy to have all of you here and welcome everyone to Imladris with joy, no matter their situation. We all hope that the next year brings as many joys as this one did and that all troubles are left behind.” Thus said, Elrond led them in a prayer to the Valar.

When the many voices faded, the group began to filter into the Hall of Fire. Glorfindel reclaimed Elrond’s hand and the family walked into the hall. Elrond went to the raised dais and stood before the tall center chair. On his right stood Glorfindel, with Erestor beyond him, and to his left were his sons. Everyone stood before his or her seat, looking at the high table expectantly. Elrond raised his goblet. “To family, friends, and the Valar,” he toasted. The entire hall echoed him and drank.

“Let us feast,” announced Glorfindel. A cheer sounded at his words and the people sat, a harmonious buzz of talking filling the hall. The feast would last all morning, until the noon bell. Succulent roast turkey, duck, and ham filled the tables along side buttered bread, sweet fruits, and tender vegetables. Sugary cakes and flaky pastries filled trays, piled high next to rich chocolates and creamy caramels. Potent dark wine and spicy cider filled glasses and thirsty throats. Near the large fireplace that gave the hall its name, several musicians gathered and started a happy tune that washed over the room in welcoming waves. The fire roared, dancing merrily in a costume of red and orange. Above them, a large chandelier decked with green garland and strings of pearls cast warm candle light over the room. Through the large windows behind the high table dais the bright sun shone over a winder landscape, turning the snow into sheets of sparkling diamonds.

A sweet laugh pulled Elrond attention from some story his son was telling him and his grey eyes fell upon a small child with auburn hair and sharp green eyes. The little girl was held in the lap of a man, short fingers reaching for a plate of toffee treats. Elrond smiled softly, a few tears gathering in his eyes. “Ada, is something the matter?” asked Elrohir with slight concern, touching his father on his shoulder.

Elrond shook his head. “No, my son. The snow is just changing colors again,” he replied. The twins looked confused.

Glorfindel reached over and grabbed Elrond’s hand, gently holding the slim fingers in his own. “And what color is the snow now?” he asked.

Elrond looked at him and squeezed the hand that gripped his own. “The snow is white.”

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