1. Darkness, Doubt and Shadows

Mist gathered around him, clouding his vision as he struggled to run in spite of the bushes and branches that barred his way. Night had not entirely fallen, but the world was already dark, and the thick fog made it difficult for him to see, much though he tried. He had not the elven eyesight of his brothers, and at times like these he regretted it the most. Yet he kept running, for to stop was to die and he would not die now, not at the hands of such loathsome creatures! Estel tried to focus his senses to lead himself through the dark. He knew his brothers ran in front of him but could not hear them, except for the occasional careless, or perhaps purposeful, snapping of a twig. The growls that came from behind his trail were becoming louder, and he knew he had to run.

Fear not the shadows, little one;
No beast will harm you in the dark.
Look up toward the starlight
to see Hope shining bright.

"Hurry, Estel!" He heard a voice calling him, though faintly, for the pounding of his chest was louder. He ran onward, every stride pushing him further, every muscle of his body working to get him away from danger. He felt he had to breathe, but he could not stop, for to stop was to die. To stop was to die... Focus... he needed to focus...

Shadows are only traces
of trees, and rocks, and things;
Fear not the wisps of mem'ries
of things that used to be.

There were the words again! They came to him, pouring in his mind like the rain that falls from the grey skies back home.

Home. Would he ever see it again?

"Hurry, Estel! Hurry!" A voice came again, but this one was deeper, yet showed equal urgency. "Keep running, for they are fast! Do not give way! A final push to get to the river, and then we are safe!"

Safe! he thought. Safe, at home, where mother and Elrond wait for me. Aware of a rumble behind him, he looked back to the bend in the road, where a hoard of black bodies gathered together, hurling knives at him, sneering, running, approaching.

"Fast!"

But he was running as fast as he could! He was racing, flying as an arrow that has been let out through a very tightened string! He heard buzzes in the air, flying past him, near him...

"Agh! Ouch!" Drawing a hand to his shoulder, he halted, staggering in pain.

"Elladan!" One of his brothers heard his cry and turned back. "He is hurt!"

"I am well!" he cried, veiling his eyes but starting onward. "Go on! We are almost there!" His brothers started to run again, but they would keep closer to him, turning to glance back at him every few paces. He grimaced, as he pressed his hand to his shoulder.

If ever darkness deepens,
and walls seem to fall on
Do not forget to whisper!
The light, at last, will come.

He stopped and gasped for breath. Behind him he heard the cries of oncoming Orcs. The noises came faintly, although he knew that every second brought the creatures closer, and he heard the rumble of steps, the sound of foul words and curses in their own dark language that was so repulsive to his ears.

'Whisper...' something in his mind told him. 'Whisper...' the voice yammered in his head, so fast and loud that he almost thought he could hear it. He felt his lips move, but he had not meant to move them; was he trembling?

Oh, fairest light, shine on me
Until I find my way!
Dispel the dark and shadows,
Bring forth a new-found day.

He stopped, panting. He found that he could not go on. His legs shook, and a black blur gathered in his eyes, closing his lids. The very effort of breathing became a desperate struggle, and he felt a weight press upon him, heavy, black. It fell on and on... it would crush him...

"Estel!" was the last thing he heard, and then knew no more.

If the light shines on me
Hope will find a way.
Estel, hope and starlight
conquer fear with faith

Elrohir's singing ended in a low, mirthless chuckle. His brother raised a brow at him.

"What, do you suppose, put that into his head in the first place?"

"I do not know, Elladan. But, I tell you, it was that bit of rhyme that he sang. You must have heard it, too."

"I did hear it," Elladan said, as he crumbled a few leaves over a pot of boling water; or, was it Elrohir? Estel could not be sure through his half-open lids. He made an effort to move, but found that he couldn't; a strange weariness had overcome him, keeping his limbs anchored to the ground. There was also a stinging pain on his left shoulder that he could not attribute to any thing his conscious mind could remember; but, something had to have happened! He was so tired... His brothers were there, he reasoned, so things would be fine; and, he could not move, at any rate. A soothing scent was coming out of the boling pot. They must have been burning athelas, he thought, as he allowed his senses to be invigorated by the herb's healing properties. Slowly, he felt his tightened muscles relax, and he became very still as his hearing focused on the sounds around him: the constant sizzling of the fire and the bubbles in the pot, the crumbling of leaves and the stirring of a liquid, the rending of clothing, a bird chirping, his own pounding heart, murmurs... his brothers... they were speaking.

"... and you know that he was but a small child when she sang that to him; no more than four or five human years, I believe."

"I had never seen him so frightened before," the other spoke, and gave a low laugh. "I confess I did not know what to do."

"How can you say that, Elladan? The crying, it had to be stopped! I'm sure that every living creature in the valley had a chance to hear Estel's weeping that day. To stop the crying, that was the first thing that had to be done."

"I suppose you are right. But, would you not have cried if you were a babe, and had just wakened to find yourself alone in such a dark forest? Oh, I think you would have, brother," and hushed laughter followed. Estel wished to laugh, too, upon recognizing his own recollection. He must have been a mere child, for he had entirely forgotten about that incident. He remembered a bird. Yes, he had been following a bird that sang so beautifully! He must have managed to get distracted and lost and had fallen asleep, for the next thing he remembered was waking in a strange garden of dark shadows- entirely alone.

"... when Gilraen sang that song for him. Do you suppose there was foresight in her choosing such words? They seemed to come today when they were most needed." Silence followed that last sentence, and Estel found himself desperately wishing for them to keep talking. The sound of their voices was reassuring.

"What happened today frightened me, 'Ro. I thought we had lost him."

Silence.

"He is not ours to lose, brother."

"I know; but, I could not-"

"Do not even think about it. It did not happen; that is all we know."

"Yes; but, suppose that that arrow had hit just a few inches down, or more to the right! Had it pierced a lung, or... or his heart!"

"But it didn't!"

"But it could have! It was so close!"

"We must stop worrying about this, 'Dan. 'Tis useless! The life he will lead will throw him in the way of danger every minute of every day."

Again, silence.

"You are right," the voice had calmed again. "He must get used to it."

"As do we."

Estel felt a stirring, steps, and then something hot being rubbed against his throbbing shoulder. It was hot, and it burned...

"Agh! What is that?" he cried, distressed, but ended in a smile of relief, for he had found his voice back. "What is all that talk about my life, and what is that thing you're pouring there... oh... Elladan, it burns!"

"Am I glad to hear your voice, brother! Uncouth and rusty, as it is," Elrohir cried, leaning closer to him. "We thought you would sleep forever!"

"And he came very close to that mark," Elladan said, as he urged him to sit back on the bed and lay his head on the pillow of leaves they had gathered for his comfort. "How do you feel, Estel?"

"Burnt!" he exclaimed, "and, confused. What happened? And, how long have I slept?"

"You would not wish to know," Elrohir murmured, and somehow it did not seem to be a joke.

"It is past sunset."

"Good," Estel heaved a deep sigh. "It sure feels like it has been longer."

"Past sunset, of Isilya," Elladan explained, good-naturedly, while he raised a brow at Elrohir, who covered his mouth, perhaps to conceal a grin.

"What? It cannot be possible! We had come close to the Orc camp," his voice lowered, and he grimaced as Elladan continued the ministrations to his injured shoulder. "That must have been two days ago! I could not have slept that long!" But, the odd stares he encountered in his brother's eyes told him that he had done just that. "What happened?"

"The usual," Elrohir said at length, and it seemed to Estel that he was trying to seem more cheerful than what he truly felt, "in our eagerness, we came too close to their camp."

"And, dearly have we payed for our weakness," Elladan said, and even though his words ended in a half-smile, Estel could detect the tightness, the note of discomfort that ran at the heart of his brother's comments, and that prompted guarded looks between themselves, and toward him. He wondered why they were acting so.

"You should say, rather, that I have payed for our weakness. As I look at you, I see that you have managed to escape unscathed."

A rather long and uncomfortable silence followed, in which Elladan lowered his eyes, and Elrohir turned his back at them to stare at the horizon. He bit his lip, mentally cursing himself for having chosen a seemingly unappropriate topic, and was abstracted out of his reflections by Elrohir, who muttered something to the wind, or perhaps intended only for his twin's ears, but he also caught it. 'We should not have risked him so.'

"It was hardly your fault," Estel began to say, trying to shift the dark mood that had settled upon them. "I am man enough to be aware of such risks, and if I was willing to go along, then the peril must not have been so great. I did not think we were too close; and, they took the bait!"

"Nevertheless," Elladan said as he pressed some bandages over the wound, "we must protect you. Your safety should have been better guarded."

"How am I to learn, if you shun the opportunities for it?" It was a natural question, and it seemed to soften the mood, or at least to smooth the lines of worry over the elven brows. "At any rate, you have not answered my first question."

There was that hasty, almost imperceptible exchange of glances between the elder brothers. Elladan's hold on him tightened slightly, and he cleared his throat, "And, which question may that be, young brother?"

"What is it that you are pouring there. It burns!" he replied, choosing his second question instead of the first. His brothers surely noticed, for they bestowed keen glances upon him, although they spoke not against it. Whatever happened, he liked not the way they seemed to keep their guard as to be mindful of what they said in front of him. He could not recall of any other time when they had been so careful, nervous, even, at least in his presence.

"Ah," Elrohir sighed, and a smile lighted his face. That twinkle of laughter that kindled his eyes when he was amused seemed irresistible; Estel knew that he should prepare, for his brother would probably tease him. "Since you are man enough to be aware of risks, I think you should be aware of what it is that Elladan is using to clean your wound. Would you guess, Estel? We should not neglect your instruction in healing, my dear grown man."

"Do not jest with me! Even though my life may seem but a breath to you, I have grown, or so mother tells me, and Elrond, too."

"I do not attempt to deny that," he said, waving a hand, and Estel understood that Elrohir, too, had hoped to dispel the sombre cloud. "I- we are very pleased by your progress, Estel. You are an honorable man, by all accounts, and a clever, brave hunter. You are kind, and keen, and we love you. That is why we are loath to think that any harm should come to you." Elrohir paused, and looked long at him. "I must confess that I am surprised by some of the things that call your attention of late, and that you observe and choose to remark upon. There are tricks and things we have not taught you, and yet you know them. I wonder how."

"There are things you do that you do not even realize you are doing. I learn more by observing you than by what you say. Maybe," he said, a wide grin on his face, "you assumed that I would not pay attention."

"Oh," Elladan interrupted, "never that! We've always known you are a clever lad. As for being a full man..."

"Do not tease me!" Estel raised his arm to wave, but quickly lowered it again, wincing and drawing his hand again to his shoulder. "I have lived over a decade and a half, and that is quite a long time. I am not so small and unexperienced as you reckon me to be."

"Certainly not," Elrohir hastened to add, the amused twinkle still in his eyes, "and, in the eyes of your mother's people you are a full man, both by prowess, as by age," he declared, and paused a moment to answer Estel's growing smile with one of his own. "Sometimes we tend to forget that ten and seven years is, indeed, a long time for you, even though to us it seems to have gone by as fast as the falling of leaves in yávie."

"But I have lived seventeen autumns, seventeen springs, seventeen summers-"

"But only sixteen winters!" Elladan whispered, and Estel could not understand why he seemed so sad. Elrohir, too, seemed to have lost his mirth. "And this autumn is not yet past."

Estel opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it, for he recognized in the cadence of Elladan's voice that note of grief that rang often in it at times when he spoke of autumn, and winter, and life. Over the years, he had observed a sad flicker in his brother's eyes whenever certain subjects were touched, and through much observation and guesswork, had learnt to trace the roots of it: Elladan (and he was certain that Elrohir, too) was reminded of Gilraen's husband. At those times he had watched attentively, trying to read at least a recollection in his brother's gestures, waiting to see if the flicker in his eyes would tell him something about the man that he should call 'father.' But anything seldom happened, and Elladan would not look straight at him, and Elrohir would quickly say something to divert their mood or lift his twin's spirit. But, not now; there were no words to be said now, and this made Estel desperate. He swallowed hard, "I am aware that I have not even lived to reach half of my father's age, if what I have heard is true; but, that does not mean that I am altogether devoid of any skill! Age and ability do not go necessarily hand in hand."

"That I know, Estel," Elladan said, surprisingly looking at him with keen regard, even sharpness; yet, the look was not menacing, but earnest. "You must also be aware that, if you wish to see as many winters, then we all need to be more careful. Some risks should not be taken!"

"What do you speak of?" Estel asked, truly perplexed. "To kill Orcs so that the valley can be kept safe is not a risk; it is a necessity! Had I been allowed to crawl closer, we may have been able to end with the whole pack, instead of settling for a mere handful!"

"And end with you in the attempt, as well? Forgive me," Elladan continued, without pausing to take breath, "but, we are never to come that close again."

"Elladan!" Elrohir cried, fastening his eyes on him.

"Had I been hunting with my people, we would've finished with those wretched Orcs!" Estel sneered, but the sudden heat that came to his cheeks, and the astonished looks of his brothers, were enough to warn him that he had said something wrong. "My mother's people, that is," he corrected, haltingly, and unable to meet their stares. A stinging awkwardness surrounded them, and for more than a moment, no words were said.

"Maybe you will, when you hunt with them," Elladan said, at length, "but, not when you hunt with us."

There was something in the way those words were uttered that made Estel look up. Elrohir had turned away, busying himself with their gear and some utensils, while Elladan was biting his lip without betraying any other emotion than the slight shake of his hands as he bandaged his shoulder. Upon looking closer, however, Estel was able to distinguish that flicker again, that something that dimmed the light in his brother's grey eyes. How he wished for Elrohir to say something now, and make things right as he always did! But, he had walked away, and had left him with a very bad mess to undo, and a sense of disturbance and concern that settled upon his heart, although he could not identify what it was. Had his brother been angered or, at least, very badly annoyed or provoked, he would have surely felt better. But, he could read nothing else in Elladan's mood, but sadness. He swallowed hard again, and contented himself to remain silent as Elladan finished to tend to his injured shoulder.

"Rest," he said at length, in a very neutral tone, or so Estel thought, "while Elrohir and I see to our meal. You must be hungry."

Yes, he was hungry, as his growling stomach had been trying to tell him for a long while. Had he only listened to the warnings his own body had sent, perhaps he could have avoided to put himself into that scrape. It hurt him so, to have drawn his brothers into matters that they clearly disliked to discuss, or be reminded of! It hurt him, even more than any orc arrow could; but, what could he do to make things better? He only nodded, and closed his eyes, hoping that, when he next opened them, his brothers would be cheerful again. And, a proper meal would not hurt, either. A bird began to chirp some tunes, and he heard the call of an owl before a light, uneasy slumber overtook him.