Chp. 2: A Double Tragedy

A gasp escaped Elrohir's lips as he watched his twin fall. He knew his twin was not dead; he would have felt it. But still he could not quash the spark of panic that began to bubble inside of him when his brother did not immediately rise. Then…. Thank Ilúvatar! A whirlwind of dark hair, green cloak, and flashing blades erupted in the center of the group of men, slaying two in less than a second.

Elrohir had just begun to breathe a sigh of relief—even while his body automatically parried a thrust from a snarling bandit and plunged his dagger in the man's chest—when Laurmaethor's scream of pain reached him. He took his eyes off his brother in time to see the golden stallion fall, his leg having been smashed by the giant club of a troll-like man wearing a wicked smirk. One of the man's companions had his sword poised to deliver a final blow to the animal's neck.

A sharp pain across his right cheekbone brought Elrohir back to his own fight as a dirty, unkempt bandit took advantage of his distraction and managed to graze him with the tip of his longsword. With a mental shake of his head, Elrohir turned his attention back to his own battle, wincing inwardly as he heard Elladan's cry of rage and anguish. However, he could not help his twin if he got himself killed.

With grim determination, Elrohir fought, his blades dancing and reflecting the sunlight. But whenever one man fell, it seemed that there was always another to take his place. With a curse, Elrohir realized that many of the men were abandoning their fight with the elder twin and coming after him instead. They had apparently realized that challenging Elladan would only result in a very messy, very painful death. Well, he would just have to show them that, while he might not be his twin's equal in fighting, he was still more than a match for common bandits. With that thought in mind, Elrohir plunged his blade into another man's neck, his steely grey eyes cold and promising death to anyone who stepped within range of his sword.

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Elladan sprang into action with a snarl. He barely registered the fear on the men's faces before his blade reduced them to nothing more than corpses on the ground. He wheeled and spun, his sword like lightning, his grey eyes almost black with fury and carrying a vengeance so strong that more than one man turned and fled from the confrontation.

Elladan noted with satisfaction that the men were giving way before him. With a predatory smile, he drew his dagger and, in the blink of an eye, the dagger was embedded in the chest of a man who had been attempting to sneak up behind him. Elladan smirked. The man had been making enough noise to alert a dwarf… and dwarves were not known for their keen senses. With a final lunge, Elladan reached the semicircle of men who had his brother trapped against the edge of the cliff. With a feral snarl, he sprang upon them, moving faster than mortal eyes could follow. Trapped between the younger twin and this snarling menace, the bandits had no chance. Those who could, fled. Those who could not fell to an elven blade.

After a final thrust into the heart of a man making one last, desperate attempt to kill him, Elladan allowed the snarl to slide off of his features, though his eyes remained dark as he looked at the bodies strewn across the meadow.

"Even now, so close to Imládris, cruel beings prey upon the weak," he said, shaking his head in disgust. "One would think that they would know better than to reveal themselves to warriors of Imládris," he added with a grin at his brother.

Elrohir was uncharacteristically silent, and Elladan immediately felt a pang of concern. He knew Elrohir had not received any serious injury, yet he could feel the anxiety flowing from the younger twin. "Brother," Elladan sighed, "I know that these were men, not orcs or other fell creatures, but we had to slay them. They attacked us and would have killed us both."

"I realize that," Elrohir replied slowly, "but…." Suddenly his eyes widened. "LOOK OUT!"

Elladan felt himself falling, and realized with some confusion that Elrohir had pushed him. Hard. He looked up in time to see Elrohir stumbling back, pain on his face and... a dark brown shaft stained with blood protruding from his shoulder.

Elladan's mind seemed to be working sluggishly. Why was there an arrow in Elrohir's shoulder? There shouldn't be. The bandits were gone. Then his brain finally made the connection between the sight before him and the faint whistling noise he had heard a moment before Elrohir had shoved him….. Elrohir….. As if in slow motion, Elladan watched as Elrohir staggered. They were right at the cliff's edge. Elladan's brain screamed at him to move, and he felt his body lunge forward, heard something that sounded like his own voice scream his twin's name, and watch, as if from a distance as an outstretched hand closed on empty air and, with a look of surprise and panic, Elrohir lost his balance and fell backwards.

"Elladan…." The choked cry was cut off as Elrohir tumbled out of sight and Elladan was left staring at empty air.

No. This was not happening. No. Elladan would not believe it. Replaying in his mind was Elrohir's face, the eyes wide in fear as he fell back, the cry for help, the look of absolute panic in his eyes…. Elrohir never panicked. Ever. And he had not been looking at Elladan, even when he called his name. He had been looking…. Over his shoulder.

Time resumed, and normal sound rushed back into Elladan's world. With sickening clarity, Elladan recognized the sound of a blade whistling down towards his head. He reached for his sword but, even as he turned, he knew he would be too late.

Blade met flesh. And Elladan fell to the ground.

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Elrohir had seen the man hiding in the trees a split second too late. He must have picked up a spent arrow as he fled and found one of the archers' abandoned bows, for the arrow that flew through the air was quite real and deadly. Elladan's back was to the woods. He hadn't seen the arrow. The arrow was heading directly for his twin's back.

Without thinking, Elrohir yelled and threw himself at his brother, knocking the older twin out of harm's way. The reaction was a split second too late. Instead of continuing with his momentum and falling to the ground beside his brother, Elrohir felt a sharp slap against his chest and felt himself thrown backwards, even as a sharp pain blossomed in his shoulder.

He saw Elladan dazedly rising to his feet, even as his back foot met only air, and he felt himself beginning to fall backwards. It was almost ironic, he thought, remembering his earlier thoughts about not wanting to see if an elven body could survive a fall off this cliff. Well, Elrohir thought, with strange detachment, this just went to show that the Valar had a sense of humor….

Elrohir saw the dawning comprehension in Elladan's eyes, saw him lunge forward, but knew it would be too late. And, more importantly, Elrohir saw the small man who had dropped his bow as soon as the arrow had left it and begun sprinting towards them, sword unsheathed. The man whom Elladan, all his thoughts focused in a panic on his twin, would certainly not see or hear. "Elladan," He choked out in warning, but he could say no more as all the air had been forced out of his lungs when the arrow had struck. He could only watch in helpless horror the sword descending on his brother above him, before his head struck something hard and unyielding, sending him into unknowing blackness as he continued to fall.

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Just a few quick notes.

I realize that it has been a very, very, very long time since I began this story, and I apologize. I will not, however, promise to necessarily update faster. I write in my spare time when I'm in the mood for it, and I post these random bits of insanity that run through my head up here as they come to me. I will probably never be a fast updater, and if you want to avoid reading this story until it is complete so that you will not have to wait ages for the next chapter, I completely understand.

Ilúvatar is the all powerful "god" figure in Middle Earth. He is called Eru by men. Mostly he has delegated the task of watching over Middle earth to the Valar, his servants who are still almost godlike in their power.

Imládris is the Elven name for Rivendell.