Who is to blame?

Summary: Short story, twins centric. High rock, an orc, feelings of guilt... what else does the story need?

Disclaimer: I think it's rather unnecessary statement, but Arda with all it's characters belongs to Professor Tolkien. I own only those, created by me.

Chapter1. The rock and an orc

"Hey El! – Elladan called to his twin excitedly. - What takes you so long?"

"But El, you know that father would not be pleased if he finds out we came here", - answered Elrohir with quite a bit of uncertainty in his voice, skillfully climbing to the top of the hill after his brother. He really thought that it was a bad idea and would lead them to nothing but troubles.

The twins stopped at the foot of the rock, staring upward in awe. It seemed that the ledged rock was rising up higher and higher and actually had no ending at all, loosing itself somewhere in the clouds.

"That's the point, dear brother, - Elladan smiled mischievously, turning to his twin. – 'If' he finds out".

"I don't like the sound of it", - Elrohir shook his head, still doubtful. He couldn't explain why, but he had a very bad feeling about this all.

"Oh, come on! We are already here, right? So, should anyone find out, we'll get into trouble no matter what. I bet I can get to that ledge faster than you do!"

"Do not…" - Elrohir tried to hold his brother in place, but his hand grabbed only air: more resolute and reckless Elladan had already jumped up to the first ledge and started to climb up like an oversized monkey.

Sighing in defeat, Elrohir put the hand to his eyes and watched his twin's progress, his heart squeezing each time Elladan's hand would slip from an especially unreliable ledge or the loose rock would fell right from under the elf's booted foot.

"Come on, El! Get up here too!" – Elladan seemed to be completely unafraid of being that high off the ground with no more or less reliable foot- or handhold.

"Stop it, Elladan! Get down!" – Elrohir knew well enough that to argue with his brother now was both fruitless and dangerous: arguing with him, Elladan could loose much needed attention and would, Valar forbid, fall down. Yet, to see his twin's small form moving further and further away from the ground was beyond him.

"C'mon, don't be afraid! Either get up to me or wait down there. I'll rest a bit on that ledge and be down in no time".

Usually Elrohir would follow his twin with close to no doubt, yet the perspective of climbing up that particular rock made him shiver. So, the slightly younger twin stayed down on the ground, his eyes following his brother's every move, and subconsciously tried to stay directly below Elladan, as if planning to catch him should he fall.

Perhaps, that was why he was the one to spot the orc. Well, if to be precise, it was a bit later that he understood whom he saw. At that exact moment all he saw was someone's dark figure that leaned out of the ledge on which Elladan had been planning to get some rest before climbing back down. The orc, who had probably been awaken by the twins' loud conversation, was snarling at the bright sun, shaking it's ugly head, but the elf, who was moving directly to him, noticed instantly.

"El, look out!" – yelled Elrohir, watching in horror how the orc overhung from the ledge, trying to grab Elladan's hand.

Looking up, the older twin met an orc's bloodthirsty gaze and went numb, almost letting his grip slip. Forcefully shaking the temporary paralyzes off, Elladan managed to avoid the orc's grip, shifting his weight to one hand and hastily starting to climb down. However sad, the fact was that moving down was much harder than climbing up. This time he could not see properly where he was placing his foot and the risk to slip off was much higher.

The orc, seeing that it's prey was trying to escape, followed, forgetting all about the sunlight and never leaving his attempts to grab the elf. Elrohir didn't know what to do. He had no bow with him, nor would he shoot from such a position, risking to hit his own brother. But how can one just stand and watch such a scene and not go mad?

"Come on, El! – he encouraged, nervously stepping from one foot to another. – Be careful!"

Off course, Elladan didn't answer. Searching feverishly for the foothold he barely had time to duck out of the orc's reach. His twin's voice from below, however, strangely strengthened him.

Pity that it couldn't add to his luck too… For at the next second, dark dirty fingers grabbed the sleeve of his shirt firmly, sudden action throwing him off balance. Elrohir was yelling something, yet all the sounds were drowned by the fierce beating of his own blood. Elladan instinctively tried to jerk out of the foul grip and lost what was left of his balance completely.

The next few seconds turned into one small eternity. Unable to think properly from fear and panic, Elladan tried to grab onto the rocks, his fingers cut and bleeding. Yet, all he managed to do was hold on for a heartbeat or two, slipping away, his fall however slowing down somewhat. At one point or another the screaming orc flew past him, meeting with the solid ground with a sickening thud, but Elladan barely noticed it. The last thing he remembered was the sharp pain in his body as he fell into the thick bush, rolling out of it, and a pale worried face of his twin that melted in the darkness of unconsciousness.

Elrohir was ready to tear his hair. What, in the name of One, should he do? What? He knelt beside his unconscious brother, feeling for a pulse with his trembling fingers, just like his father had taught him. He was doing it just for the sake of doing something: should his brother indeed be dead, he would be the first one to know about it. Yet, it didn't mean that his brother's life was out of danger.

Well, the heartbeat and breathing are there… What next? All attempts to calm down and think clearly and logically failed, mainly because of the amount of blood that covered Elladan's cut and bruised body. Elrohir took a few deep breaths, looking like a fish that was thrown out of water. He knew that panic would solve nothing, but to calm down was almost impossibly hard. First of all, he needs to detect whether anything is broken r, better to say, what exactly is broken. Then he must try and remember at least something of what his father had taught them, for right now his memory seemed to be cleared of anything remotely useful. And then he should find the way to bring his brother home. Of that last part of his plan Elrohir tried not to think. He had absolutely no idea how to bring his twin's unconscious and hurt body back to Imladris. But, he had more pressing problems to solve right now.

Some strange noise behind him made Elrohir turn back sharply and his eyes to go wide with shock. Now, that he stared at the maimed, yet definitely not dead body of an orc, hovering over him, the younger twin remembered that the noise was there for quite some time, but he, preoccupied that he was, chose to ignore it. Oh Valar! Why hadn't he checked on the orc? Why hadn't he made sure that the creature was indeed dead? Berating himself for stupidity and inefficiency, Elrohir tried to avoid the blow of an crudely made sword, covered with some dark green substance. Hadn't Glorfindel always said that the worst possible mistake is to underestimate one's enemy?

The blade finally slashed his chest, cutting it almost perfectly horizontally. The wound wasn't deep or overly serious, yet the pain burnt through the elf's body and Elrohir fell onto the ground with a sharp cry, his hands pressing to the bleeding cut. Orc smiled wickedly, a thick stickle of dark blood running from it's mouse. It was dieing and it knew it, yet the orc would not be an orc if he hadn't try to take at least one of the two elves with him into death. But in that it failed. Before it could try and move it's sword, the orc's eyes stilled, it's chest heaved for one last time and it started to fall forward, sword first, right on top of it's latest prey. Despite the pain that pulsed through his body, Elrohir managed to roll to the side, not wishing to be slaughtered by a dead adversary. For a few minutes he just lay there, trying to battle with the pain that refused to subside and wondering, what exactly was that strange substance on the orc's blade.

XXX

"They are nowhere to be found, my lord", - one of the guards reported to his liege worriedly, bowing his head in respect.

"Damn it! – lord Elrond Peredhil of Imladris rarely allowed himself to use such words and the guards as well as a few present servants looked at him in great surprise. Elrond winced inwardly, forcefully calming himself. – Gather a few teams and search the woods for their tracks".

"Yes, my lord".

With another short, yet not disrespectful nod the guard left the room, hurrying to carry the order out. Despite the twins' frequent pranks, the majority of the elves that populated Imladris were deeply attached to them. And the guard knew for sure that the warriors would be ready to go for a search as soon as they grab their weapons and prepare their horses.

"Berenion?"

The soft call made the guard stop. Looking up he met the worried and slightly confused gaze of lord Glorfindel, whom he had passed completely unaware. Bowing to the other elf he waited patiently for a question.

"What's going on, captain?" – Glorfindel's voice was soft, yet commanding and Berenion felt that he would have answered to it no matter what.

"It seems that no one had seen young lords ever since breakfast. Lord Elrond ordered for a few teams to be gathered. We are going to search the woods".

Barely noticeable shadow fell over Glorfindel's face.

"Please, ask for my horse to be prepared as well. I'm coming with you. I just will have a word with lord Elrond, take my weapons and join you downstairs".

The warrior nodded, resuming his ran into the direction of stables. The moment he saw him, Berenion was sure that lord Glorfindel would join them. Too strong was the bond, connecting the reborn Gondolin elf with lord Elrond and his family. But for now his main task was to gather warriors as soon as possible. Shaking his head Berenion exited the house. Thanks to the twins the life in Imladris would never be totally peaceful or boring.

… TBC

Note: This story is already completed, all I need is to translate it from Russian. So, I think, I'll be posting every day or once in two days. I'd really appreciate some reviews, if it is possible: good or bad, I'll accept them.