Author's Notes : Welcome to my new story! Heart's Shadows is a sequel to Thawing, but can be read alone. It is also a translation (and a rewrite, when necessary) of La valse du cœur et de la nuit.

A few words of warning about the upcoming content of the story. I rated it T for now, because I'd like more readers to be aware that the story exists. But the rating will go up to M, and a very strong M at that, rather quickly. The reason will become fairly clear at the end of this chapter, I think. Hearts' Shadow is a dark and violent AU.

Disclamer : You are aware I am not Tolkien, right? And I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are my own. Point them out, and you'll help this author to write better.

All right, on to the story.

Chapter 1

The call of adventure

The stars were flickering and disappearing in the eastern sky at the approach of the dawn. Estel's nostrils flared. In the crisp autumn wind, the russet-colored leaves of the old oak whispered around him. The acorns, invisible in the dark, brushed against each other with little dry sounds. Estel stretched, arching his back and his neck. His arms and legs felt stiff after the night spent in the tree, so he stretched them one at a time, bringing the circulation back, waking up his body gradually without losing his hold on the oak's branch.

This tree was his friend. Estel knew its every bough, its every crack and crevice in the bark. He knew where the birds loved to nest in the spring and to where the squirrels scuttled for shelter. A smile played on the boy's lips as he thought about his very first lesson in tree-climbing. He had just turned six then and he had been asking Elladan and Elrohir to teach him for as long as he could remember.

Perhaps, pestering is a better term, thought Estel with a quiet laugh, remembering his elven brothers long-suffering looks.

When the twins had finally consented, they had brought him here, at the foot of this oak. Estel had mirrored Elrohir's movements up to the third branch, where, excited and inexperienced, he had straightened up too quickly and had lost his balance. Elrohir's outstretched hand had caught only the air, as the child, limbs flailing, had already tumbled down... to land into Elladan's waiting arms. Estel had laughed, for he had loved the brief moment of flight. Then, in a window of the second floor, he had caught a glimpse of his mother's livid face, and had burst into tears.

Estel shook his head. He was twelve now, and it had been three days since his mother had gone to Eriador on a visit.

The sky was brightening with the coming dawn. Estel slipped down, moving from branch to branch with silent grace. His feet landed on the dew drenched ground with a slight thump. Estel crouched at the base of the oak, making himself as small as possible. If his elven brothers saw him, or if anyone else did, for that matter, his adventure would be short-lived indeed. To his relief, not a sound came from the house of lord Elrond. Lanterns sparkled here and there like on every other night.

An elvish home darkens in death only.

Estel swallowed, surprised by the strange thought. A shiver went up his spine, but the moment passed. All remained quiet and Estel, confident that the way was free, ran to a velvety-leafed bush.

He had planned everything, yesterday. It was a game between Elladan, Elrohir and him. The elven brothers were teaching him woodcraft, and Estel strived to demonstrate his progresses. He would seize every opportunity to slip unnoticed into the woods. And then he would run, using all the stealth that he could muster to cover his tracks. Elladan and Elrohir would follow, of course. The first time, they had caught up with Estel after a mere half of a mile. They had been displeased that he had ventured out alone. But they had been amused also, and so Estel continued this game of hide and seek. And the opportunity, that presented itself yesterday in the guise of an elven sentinel, was just too good to miss.

The guard had galloped into the courtyard, had dismounted and had leapt up the stairs, asking to see lord Elrond in a breathless haste. After that, all the lessons that Elrond used to teach Estel himself were entrusted to Lindir.

'Lindir will take my place as your tutor for the next few days,' Elrond had told Estel before moving away, surrounded by, Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir and several other counselors.

Estel's decision had been made then and there. It had been several weeks since his last excursion into the woods of Imladris. And even though Estel had nothing against Lindir, still, the boy preferred to him the smells of the forest and the freedom of the wind on the river. Since he had been left to his own devices, yestereve, he had had ample time to make preparations. He had readied a basket with food and had concealed it here, under the bush, in the lair overgrown with thin, yellow grass. A fox family had lived here last summer. But the little ones had grown up and left. The vixen, her tawny pelt peppered with white, was gone soon afterwards.

Estel lifted a cloth to check that no wild animal had discovered his provisions. The apples, the hard cheese and the bread were intact. Estel thought wistfully about lembas that he had seen during his foray into the kitchen. He hadn't dared take any ; lembas was for the warriors and the guards on the far outposts who could not abandon their duty to hunt. But Estel wished that he could have had some anyway, so that he could resemble a wanderer even more. If not a wanderer, then he wouldn't mind to be like Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim, who had passed by Rivendell two summers ago. Estel shook with silent laughter. What an idea! He could never be like Mithrandir, who, under the disguise of an old men, came and went across the ages.

The night was almost gone. Estel lifted the basket and dashed for the trees. A memory came to him even as he stepped, nimble like a wildcat, on the stones and on the tree roots rather than on the humid, soft loam that would have betrayed his path. In his mind's eye, the boy saw an exasperated Elladan chide him after one such escapade :

'Estel, will you ever stop with this game of yours? It's not safe.'

Estel snorted at the recollection. Unsafe? Imladris? Now that was an alien notion. And even though Estel hoped that his stealth had improved somewhat since that first time, he knew that Elladan and Elrohir would follow him, come morning, and would catch up with him soon enough. But in leaving now, while the house lay quiet and dreaming, Estel could at least have a head start on his elven brothers.

With the breaking of the day, the clouds crowded the sky. Even the birds sang in muted voices. A heavy, moisture-filled dampness clung to the trees and the sky seemed to press on their branches. It wasn't raining, at least. Estel felt grateful for that. He walked for the better part of the morning. It was difficult to measure the passage of the time in the grey light, but, at some point, Estel tired. The basket filled with food for three started to weight him down. Estel left the twilight of the pines and firs for the banks of the Bruinen. He put down his load and straightened, welcoming the respite. The air had been so still under the trees. Here, in the open, the wind tugged at his clothes with a slightly chilly touch. It cooled the sweat upon his face. The boy brushed the dark strands of hair from his eyes with a smug smile. Never before had he made it so far alone. He had earned a little rest.

He drank his fill from the river, than lay down on the brown, sandy bank, his hands clasped behind his head. His eyelids drooped. When Estel opened his eyes again, he lay on his side and the Bruinen shone before him like liquid mithril. Estel yawned with a frown. Had he slept? He must have, for the sun, shining from a break in the clouds was in the West. It was well past mid-day. Estel sat up. Decidedly, the night in the tree hadn't agreed with him. The boy shrugged, half-amused and half-saddened. He knew since he was seven that he was not an elf and that he could not equal elven strength and endurance. Still, he hadn't suspected the difference to be so glaring.

The wind was picking up. The Bruinen reflected the sun in bright, silver shards of light. Somehow, the light reminded Estel of the eyes of the two men who had come to Imladris to accompany Gilraen on the road to Eriador. They were almost as tall as elves, and they had bowed before him when Estel had come upon them in the great hall. He had returned their gesture, confused. Surely, it was his place to show respect to adults, not the other way around? The boy, kneeling by the river, shifted uneasily. It was strange, the way these men's eyes had fastened on him and hadn't shifted even at his mother's approach.

The clouds hid the sun and the shimmering light on the waves went out, bringing Estel back to reality. He stood up to prepare the picnic. Four flat, smooth stones at each corner of a white cloth completed the makeshift tablecloth. The boy split up the food provisions he had brought in three parts. Elladan and Elrohir should not be long. But, oh, now he wished that they were here already! Estel hadn't eaten anything since yesterday and the bread, smelling of honey and butter, made his mouth water. The boy swallowed. No, he would not start without his elven brothers.

A twig broke behind his back and Estel smiled.

'Finally!' he called out without turning. 'It took you long enough!'

He received only silence for an answer. The wind moaned in the trees and the river shivered. The sun chose that instant to break free from the clouds. On the pure, white tablecloth Estel saw the black shadow of a twisted, gnarled, clawed hand reaching to grasp him from behind. The boy threw himself forward with a choked gasp. He scrambled on all fours to put some distance between himself and whatever thing was at his back. Then he whirled around, rising and unsheathing his sword at the same time. His breath caught in his throat at the nightmarish vision before him. Elladan and Elrohir had been instructing him in the ways of the sword, but this... This was for real. The creature was more than two heads taller than him. Its clawed fists larger than Estel's head. The boy's legs felt unsteady. His sword shook. The broken shards of light reflecting from the blade leaped around like panicked animals. One struck the creature in the eyes.

The orc growled, squinting. The low, raspy sound jarred Estel's senses back to the here and now. He sprang aside when the orc lifted a mace. The blow that would have taken his head off whistled harmlessly by his right ear and struck the basket instead. It fell apart, broken to pieces. The green and red apples rolled into the river. Estel's breath sounded harsh to his own ears as he directed his blade point forward and stepped into his attacker. The sword, Estel's very first steel blade, a gift from Elrond, entered the large body up to the hilt. The orc howled. His hand slashed blindly, leaving five bloody trails on the boy's cheek. Estel's breath came in short, uneven gasps as he stepped away. His sword left the orc's innards with a wet, sucking sound. The beast sputtered, still growling, still searching to advance on Estel, but its legs gave way and it collapsed amidst the spoiled food.

Estel stood still, unable to tear his gaze away from the greenish bowels that shivered on the once-white cloth.

This, then, was an orc.

The boy had seen many pictures of them in lord Elrond's books. But an image could never convey the bitter taste of fear in his mouth, the reek of death in his nostrils nor the black blood that covered his hands. His sword still clasped in a fist gone numb, Estel fell to his knees and retched.

This, then, was death.

The heaves left Estel shuddering and weak. Supporting himself with his sword arm, he wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand, and looked up. He had felt movement at the edge of his consciousness. Had Elladan and Elrohir come?

The sun was gone. From the darkness under the pine trees, a troop of orcs was heading towards him.

Elrond's Child : Well, here is more. I'm glad that my different take on the twins was okay for you. For they will have a role to play in this story. How could they not? I will expand more on Elladan and Elrohir. But you'll have to read on (if the darkness of the story is all right for you) to see if the healing can be an option.

Thank you for your review!

Guest : Good observation! A three years old child climbing trees would have been a little odd. Estel is twelve here. And I'm afraid that he's got more serious problems at hand than climbing.

Thank you for reading and reviewing.