Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings and the recognisable characters, I am writing purely for entertainment.
Summary: Legolas, Estel, Elladan and Elrohir are caught by a mysterious elf. Now they must make it through the storm together. One shot, complete.
Author's Notes: Not my usual thing… ok, well bashing our favourite elves and ranger is but the style isn't! The POV changes, so keep on your toes, guys. I wanted to try my hand at pathetic fallacy. Aragorn is in young here, in his twenties.
Beta: Jen, head of the comma club.
Weathering the storm
Waves of golden sunlight drifted through the autumn leaves to light the twirling path of four lone travellers. Our path.
Dusk is without doubt my favourite time of day, I realise as I lead my companions through the forest and into the direction of my kingdom, a path I have used many times. The trees sing a silent song of peace and contentedness, with some birds chirping melodically in the distance. I turn in my horse and look over my shoulder to wonder if my human friend could hear this. Judging from the sparkling eyes and easy smile he gave me, it did not matter either way for he was enjoying the forest all the same. I can't help thinking that he needed this, needed to get out again after being confined in Rivendell, with his father unwilling to let the young man leave so soon after his last ordeal. This journey was perfect to let his mind wander free again.
I glance further back to see the identical twins, with their horses at a leisurely pace, chatting quietly to each other. I look forward again with a smile. Aye, I am looking forward to our next adventure if it is as pleasant as this.
But my eyes meet the sun ahead of us, almost hidden behind the horizon now. It is blood red.
An arrow suddenly sliced the air in the direction of my heart. My muscles lunged instinctively, and I fell hard to the ground with a biting sting in my shoulder. My young horse bucked and shifted, stamping hooves everywhere, making me crawl one handedly away from her, as faint noises and cries echoed behind me. I turn to see three more agitated horses moving around, their riders dismounted with high, clanging swords.
I quickly gather my wits and leap to my feet to join them, knife in hand. Dark, cloaked men are emerging to meet our weapons with their own shining ones. I don't have time to understand as twirl to knock the man behind me unconscious, but questions race through my head; why did the trees not warn me? Why did we not see this danger ourselves?
A strangled cry echoes through the clearing and I swirl as Elladan and Elrohir do the same to see Aragorn facing us, a thick arm clamped around his chest and steel knife against this throat. Over his shoulder are narrowed yellow-green eyes, gleaming at us, and a pair of pointed ears shown proudly in front of braids. An elf!
Elladan is glowering fiercely. "Let him go, stranger."
The elf's soft voice rumbles, "Put down your weapons and I may do, son of Elrond."
I feel the twins hesitate. The steel pierces, scarlet blood drips and Estel cannot hide the wince that passes over his wide, confused silver eyes.
My hand clenches my knife. Why is an elf picking on Estel? He does not deserve it. These are not times of war. This should not be happening!
"What do you want?" I growl.
Sickeningly yellow eyes meet mine. "Not you, prince. You are baggage, so be careful, though you may come in useful." His gaze rests on the twins. "Do as I say now or I will cut his throat and drain all his human blood before you can so much as speak."
Swords drop on the hard soil; there was no hesitation. As the men roughly force my hands behind my back and tie them with rope, I look at the horizon.
My golden sun has gone… for now.
-o-o-o-o- - o-o-o-o- -o-o-o-o- -o-o-o-o-
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I don't know how long I've been here. Drip. How long any of us have been here. Drip. I want to go home.
Yet out of all of us I am handling it the best.
Legolas is drooping in his chains. The graceful being could usually be found sitting perched on any alter he can find, none being too high, with his legs crossed neatly beneath him. Now they were sprawled awkwardly in front of him, lying at grotesque angles that were unnatural for an elf. Cracked white bone peeking from blooded, torn skin. The pale, smooth skin of the wrists was bruised like a piece of young fruit that had fallen and suffered. Large metal clamps held them in place sturdily.
A cold clamp of guilt chokes my chest. My poor friend has been through a lot, for a cause that is not his.
As if feeling my gaze Legolas's head stirred from where it had been hanging limply. As it raised the loose blond hair slowly parted, no longer shading his white face and the and the deep red cuts that softly poured. My eyes met dull blue… yet in my calm gaze they brightened a spark. It was not a smile, or even a word, but it was an anchor in the absence of hope.
My elven eyes could see this, even from where I am hanging on the opposite wall to the dark corner where Legolas resided, his head turning limp again.
Drip. Drip.
Elladan is not far from me. He is crumpled against the bitter brick wall; legs huddled up to his chest. Whether it is for warmth or for protection I do not know, but suspect both. His head lies back on cold wall in a manner that could fool one into thinking that he was merely resting. He takes deep and strong breaths, in and out but as I carefully watch, they change. His bare, bruised chest heaves, to short, hitching gasps.
"Elladan?" I say. His gasps turn to silent sobs.
He is fading. Elladan, my twin, my older brother will not look at me.
A high, torturing scream shrieked through the hallways and echoed through our cell, pounding off the walls and returning.
Elladan writhes as though he is being tortured, and in a way he is.
Though so am I. He is my little brother too! Does Elladan not realise this? Why is he turning away from me?
"Elladan, please," I whisper, begging.
Elladan's head shifts restlessly, from side to side. His gaze happens to snag mine, and it holds him steady. This day I will be his strong one, for I ever am.
Drip. Drip.
It's all right, brother. Just breathe. All will be well.
Slowly, Elladan takes a shaking breath, his rattling chest heaving into smooth and steady breaths.
"All will be well," he says firmly, his voice wavering only a little.
The rain still steadily patters.
-o-o-o-o- - o-o-o-o- -o-o-o-o- -o-o-o-o-
Thunder crashed and boomed, in a raging storm. In the dark, damp cell it reverberated through my very core.
"No!" I cry when a stroke of lightening flares the cell.
The malicious elf stands poised with his sharp knife glinting. The smooth metal slides across skin and lands firmly against the human's throat. He turns to smile spitefully at me with his yellow-green eyes brightly gleaming in pleasure.
I growl and pull at the chains, rattling and clanging noisily. I have to do something! Legolas has lost consciousness and Elrohir is sitting there, watching helplessly, but we need to aid Estel!
"Elladan, you must calm yourself-" Elrohir soothed urgently in elvish.
"No!" I cut him off as the thunder rolled and rumbled. I shoot him a glance that says what he already knows: I cannot do that!
"Why is it that you care for this runt so?" the elf was saying, gripping the human's chin and turning his head in an examination.
"Don't you touch him," I hiss in disgust.
"It's a human!" he continues, eyes fixed on Aragorn. "Your father long ago turned his back on their kind. He was a fool to return."
"Don't talk about my father!" I say loudly.
Aragorn glared fiercely in the elf's grasp with the same message and the elf physically swelled in fury, his chest lifting. In the flash of a lightening bolt Aragorn's head was thrown backwards from a piercing blow.
"Estel!" we cry, leaning forwards in our bonds, helpless to do anything to help our little brother.
"The nerve of this human!"
"A human is twice your worth!" I hear myself shouting to him desperately, watching Estel's sluggish movements carefully in the corner of my eye. "You are nothing but a coward!"
He froze, still primed in front of Aragorn, knife inches away his from lolling face. Slowly, he turns to me. "You are a Peredhil," he says smoothly, "And under the influence of your father, so you could not possibly speak truly about humans."
"No? I say I do," I state boldly, my voice echoing through the cell. "You are a coward to use us like you do!" I straighten my bare back defiantly, scraping against the wall and I hold back a wince, for I need to keep his attention fixed on me.
The elf's eyes narrow, and he starts to walk towards me, turning his back on the ranger. He watches me with calculating eyes and I stare back at him defiantly. He finally chuckles in filthy amusement. "It is your Ada's fault you're here, son of Rivendell, and you know it," he retorts pleasantly. "You must be punished for your disobedience." He holds the dagger so the sharp tip points to the ceiling and for a moment I feel relief, with a flicker of fear.
He turns.
I feel my heart clench in cold dread. The flicker of fear ignites.
He has caught on to my plan!
Estel cries as the knife slices into his stomach. No! Tears well my eyes and the image of him hunching over in pain gets blurred. No. I am sorry, Estel, I am so sorry.
Minutes pass, and I just stare weakly, sagging in my chains. I did not even notice our captor leave.
"Estel?" Elrohir asks tentatively. There is no movement. The human still leans forward in his manacles, trying desperately to ease the flowing red blood from his stomach that is starting to pool on the floor beneath him. I have a fervent urge to touch him, to ease his pain, but he sits so far away from us. Out of reach, out of comfort. All we can do is watch.
He is still. The only sounds in the cell are his short, rasping breaths.
I bow my head in shame. I am so sorry, Estel. I have failed you.
The thunder growls again in the distance. Lightening flashes but it takes a long time for noise to follow. The worst of the storm has passed, leaving grave repercussions in its wake.
-o-o-o-o- - o-o-o-o- -o-o-o-o- -o-o-o-o-
I want to tell them that I'm all right. That I'll be fine. That I'm not really hurt, it's only a small stomach wound, and a few whip marks, and some bruises. They do not pain me much.
I look down at myself - the gaping hole in my stomach, blood stained skin and the pool of crimson on the cold stone floor. As I lift my head my vision blurs and balance wavers. I feel sick… but I psychically can't worry them even more.
Legolas has woken up. He has tried to talk to me, but I was too occupied to reply. He may appear to be with us but his bright blue eyes have turned dark and it crushes my heart to see the usually lively elf so. He is torn between staying focussed on us and turning away in despair.
I wish I could say my brothers are doing better. Elrohir is the least injured, but still in pain from many days in that – elf's room. He eyes the three of us wearily, offering support whenever he can.
Elladan won't talk to me.
It is so dark in here that I can barely see my companions. I have human eyes, they are all spaced far away from me and it does not help that their elven lights have dimmed. Occasionally I see Elrohir's brighten in a feeble attempt by the twin but it quickly dies to the faint flush it was before.
"They will come," I whisper resolutely.
Elrohir looked at me, his mouth twitching faintly. "Aye."
I turn stiffly to Legolas, who doesn't appear to have heard me. "Legolas? Talk to me, mellon nin."
The elf's gaze slowly lifts to meet mine. "Who, Estel?"
"Ada. Ada will come." I look at my oldest brother and say loudly, "Ada will come, Elladan."
He doesn't answer, eyes fixed on his lap.
A well of anguish rises in me, and my eyes sting and blur. "Please, 'Dan," I beg. "Please look at me… I need you."
Elladan's eyes clench close but he lifts his head. Immediately, I smile. I do not care if we are captured, bleeding and trapped in a dark cell; I smile because I have gotten through to my brother. "Dan…"
His brow is furrowed, eyes pained, but he sees my smile and it all disappears. "They will come," he repeats firmly for me.
The night goes on, darkness flooding around us but we do not allow ourselves drown. It is when I was floating in my thoughts that a loud crash distresses my ears. We all turn to the doorway as the metal clatters open and a rush of sunlight blinds my eyes. I quickly blink, and see the Lord of Imladris standing there, framed in the morning light.
Ada has come.
My heart soars; the sun has come.
The End
AN: Okay, I want to explain the weather thing. I don't know where the idea for this came from, but Legolas is a peaceful elf, so for him I chose the sun at dusk. Elrohir is the calm, soothing, steady one so for him I chose rain, because I find rain relaxing (don't know if that's just me.) Elladan a thunderstorm cause he's passionate and has such strong emotions, and Estel, hope, is sunrise. What do you think of these?
Please review; you'd make me very happy with a line of your thoughts.
