After the awful incident, Elrond tried his best to re-establish relationships with Greenwood. But his letters were ignored and when he sent representatives, they ended up to stay in Thranduil's dungeon for a month before being provided with provisions and sent back to Rivendell with a very short letter from the king noting that any further intrusion of Noldor elves into Greenwood territory would lead to a declaration of war.
He would regularly send another letter, telling Thranduil about the situation in Rivendell and the Golden Wood, offering help and expressing his hopes for a future meeting. If his letter were even received or read, he did not know. The years passed without knowledge from Greenwood. Sometimes, Elrond wondered why he bothered. But Alcanor's bleeding form entered his dreams whenever he attempted to give up. Elrond felt responsible for what had happened and felt terrible for it. All he had wanted was trying to get to an understanding with the Greenwood elves. He was healer and it was in his very nature to offer help and assistance. He would not turn back simply because he was ignored, but he would keep being available if Thranduil ever sought peace. The elf lord could be just as stubborn as the Greenwood king and he refused to simply give up.
Whispers started to rise, whispers of a growing darkness. Men told stories about the wood elves fighting off horrible creatures, stories of giant spiders being spotted in the wood which was now unprotected for the woodelves had drawn back their borders. Villages of men close to the darkening wood were burned down, the inhabitants slaughtered. Even though Thranduil had never cared what happened beyond his borders, through defending his territory he did ensure the safety of nearby villages as the orcs were killed off by elven warriors before getting the chance to loot and kill men.
This fact worried Elrond deeply. Elves were dying. No matter what, they were still of the same race and Elrond could impossibly stand by the side-line and watch them suffer. Glorfindel began leading long term patrols east of the Misty Mountains. Carefully avoiding Greenwood itself, he and his elves hunted orcs.
Elladan and Elrohir begged their father for years to let them join one of these patrols, but the wise half-elf refused, saying they there not prepared enough yet, not grown up enough. The twins lost some of their light-heartedness and they always listened closely for news of Greenwood. Even though they had not spent much time with Prince Alcanor, they had liked the older elf. After the attack on the greenwood Prince they had been withdrawn and they had intensified their fighting lessons.
"Elladan, Elrohir," Elrond called out to them as they were sparring on the training field. Surprised, for their father never dared to interrupt them, the twins lowered their weapons and looked at him.
"Your last patrols have been very successful," Elrond began. The identical elves looked at each other and rose an eyebrow in a perfect impression of their father. Why was Elrond telling them things they already knew? They had not done anything wrong, had they? They had come back unharmed, not even scratches.
"Yes, Ada," they replied and their curiosity was shown in their sparkling eyes.
"I have talked with Glorfindel. He thinks the two of you might be ready for a long term patrol." The twins stared at each other, then they returned their focus back to their father.
"What do you think, Ada? Will you let us go?" Elladan asked carefully, expecting a negative answer.
Elrond sighed. "I trust Glorfindel's judgement. If he says you are ready, you are. I will let you go, but you have to promise me, to obey him, no matter how much you want to disobey. Is that clear?"
The twins nodded hastily.
"I do not want anyone to get killed, you are to respect the other soldiers and do as you are told. If they say hide, you hide! Do not venture on your own, keep an eye on each other. You will have a week to get ready. Please ask Glorfindel for help if you are not sure what to take, you will have to move quickly and therefore pack light. He has crossed the mountains many times and knows better than any other what you will need. The patrol will leave with first light and will consist next to you of thirty other elves. Glorfindel will lead the patrol, obviously, with the two of you as seconds in command."
"We will," Elrohir promised.
"Yes, we will. Thank you Ada!" Elladan added and hugged his father. "We will be careful, I promise. And if that thick-headed excuse of an elf who happens to be my twin forgets it, I will remind him." He skilfully dodged the slap his brother attempted to give him.
One week later the twins stood in the courtyard next to Glorfindel, both dressed in their heavy armour. Glorfindel seemed like an angelic warrior who had just stepped out of one of the history books Elrond stored in his library. His long blond hair was floating in the wind and softly entangling itself with the silver engravements in his chest plate. He stood proudly and patiently waiting for Elrond to allow them to go. The half elf went to his sons and hugged them tightly.
"Be careful", he said and then nodded towards the ancient elven lord.
"Let's go!" Glorfindel announced and waited for the twins to join him.
Elladan and Elrohir found their roles in the patrol quickly, learning from their comrades. They had known many of them already and they got along with all of them. Glorfindel taught them how to lead the group and kept them busy with scouting.
They crossed the pass without any major problems. They did encounter orcs but the pack was small and they killed them off easily before continuing their path. As soon as they reached the eastern side of the mountains, they began searching for orcs while closing in on the darkening borders of Greenwood the Great.
"Glorfindel!" Herion came running towards them. His hair was loose and his braid was unable to hold it back which caused it to stick to his sweaty forehead. The Noldor had been scouting and no one had expected him to be back already. He ran as if he was pursued by a giant pack of orcs.
"Yrch!" he breathed heavenly. Apparently, he was pursued by a pack of orcs.
"How many?" Glorfindel asked alarmed, for Herion would not have come running unless the orcs were following him already.
"Two hundred … at least! They were hiding among the trees of a small forest. I thought it was still under the control of the wood elves but they must have abandoned it. I am sorry, I shouldn't have closed in! I thought the elves might be in trouble but if they'd stayed, they are all dead now."
"Two hundred?" Glorfindel breathed surprised and shocked. "We cannot handle two hundred. Pack up, everyone! How far are they, Herion?"
"An hour? At most!"
"Okay, guys, hurry up! Get your things, I wonna go and I wonna go now! Is everyone awake? Yes, all right, let's go. We head east!"
Elladan and Elrohir run over to Glorfindel and stayed by his side while running east. It was dark, so dark that even their elven sight seemed to fail them. Tiredness was clinging on their feet like heavy stones making each step a challenge on its own.
The orcs slowly caught up with them and even though the twins had been in fights before, they had never been as afraid as they were now. They were far away from Rivendell and no help would arrive. Glorfindel suddenly froze in his steps and Elladan bumped into him. Elrohir subconsciously reached out to steady his twin.
"Yrch!" Glorfindel whispered and even in the dark they could see that the mighty balrog slayer had paled. The patrol had been so busy running away from one massive pack of orcs they had not noticed they were heading towards another pack of these foul beasts.
Glorfindel turned to the twins.
"I am sorry, Elladan, Elrohir! I should not have allowed you to come. I am sorry!" With these words he pulled his sword out and yelled orders. Within minutes the patrol had formed a circle, their faces set in stone and only their eyes which blinked in the dark showed their fear.
The air was filled with the sound of hundreds of feet, heavy boots thumping down on the hard ground.
Screeches sounded in the dark and bodies moved towards them. Heavy swords clashed forwards and the elves found themselves in a deadly quarrel. Elrohir pulled Elladan closer while he ducked underneath a blade, slashing his own sword and beheading the massive orc in front of him. He felt how Glorfindel was pushing a dead body into the crowd next to him, giving him the chance to smash his sword in another orc who got distracted. Elladan freed himself of his brother's protective embrace and flung himself skilfully into battle. Blood, dark and crimson, cold mud, bits of grass, flesh, swords, blades, screams filled the air and hurt in the ears of the beautiful people.
Glorfindel screamed with anger as he saw Herion fall under the mace of a giant orc. Elladan killed the orc and kneeled down next to the limb body, trusting his twin to protect him.
"Get him back!" Glorfindel ordered harshly and Elrohir threw him a scared look before pulling Elladan to his feet while fighting with his free arm. Elladan turned around to face the battle once more. All colour drained from his face as he realised that Herion was not the only one who had fallen. Only twelve of them there still on were feet. Two dark forms were kneeling between them; Elladan could hear someone coughing and he did not need any light to realise that he was coughing dark blood.
The twins joined the remaining patrol in the circle. They were not afraid anymore. They were not angry or determined. They could not feel the aching of their muscles or the pain in their hearts. The mud wasn't cold and slippery against their skin anymore. All warmth had escaped their bodies. They felt like empty shells and all they could do was to continue fighting.
Feriell fell and the circle shrunk to only seven elves. Elladan dragged the two wounded back, knowing he was fighting a lost battle for their lives. His hand sought and found the free hand of his twin and their fingers enlaced. Neither was able to tear their eyes off of their enemies. In the next moment, Elladan screamed and fell to his knees, a sword having sliced his right arm.
Darkness closed in and took all what was left of the elven light. Tears streamed down Elrohir's face and he closed his eyes expecting the deadly stroke to come.
But it did not come. Several seconds passed before his brain understood what he heard. The whishh of arrows flying through clear night air and the distinctive song of bow strings which were being released. The beautiful music of sharp blades moving swiftly through air before meeting and slicing through flesh and bones with a horrible sound.
He carefully cracked an eye open and he was not met with the sight of awful orcs but slim, tall figures moving through the dark; the blades in their hands catching the fade moonlight which had suddenly broken through the thick blanket of the clouds above. He felt his knees buckling and he fell down next to his brother's form, his hand still clutching onto Elladan.
Within minutes the orcs were slaughtered. The twins found themselves next to Glorfindel who had not lowered his weapon and was eying the new elves with care.
One elf with silvery white hair scathed his sword after yelling some orders. He turned and Glorfindel was met with two bright silver orbs. The elf was clad in a brownish leather armour which did not restrict him in his movements. The armour did not hide his well musculared arms and his broad chest. His clothing and the very way he had fought and the way he was now standing opposite Glorfindel showed the balrog slayer that this man was one of the wood elves of Greenwood. He did not need to see the greenish or brown colour of all of his clothing which was disguised by the dark.
The other greenwood soldiers silently assembled around their leader who did not move an inch but was eying Glorfindel with patient. He waited in silent. A sound of pain escaped Elladan's lips as Elrohir carefully took his injured arm. With the sound, Glorfindel attention shifted slightly. He slowly lowered his weapon.
"Would you accept our assistance?" The foreign elf leader asked with an ironical smile tugging on his lips. The balrog slayer could only nod. The greenwood elf gestured for his soldiers to step forward and provide help and the elves came closer and kneeled next to the injured. Their faces did not show what they were thinking. Even if they had, the darkness of the night would successfully have hidden it.
"What are Noldor doing this close to Greenwood, Lord Glorfindel?" The leader of the wood elves asked gently while his soldiers took care of securing the area and the disposal of the bodies as well as the well-being of the survivors.
"We were on our way to the Golden Wood when we got attacked by orcs. I had not realised they have driven us so far east," Glorfindel lied.
The other elf's eyes narrowed.
"Do not lie to me, Glorfindel! We have known the Noldor have been patrolling this area for the last two decades. Do you think we are unable to handle the problems within our kingdom? Noldor are not welcomed here. You should never have come. The only reason why we have not yet interfered was that you did not get in our way." He stared down at Glorfindel and hereby proved a very strong will, for not many could stare into the mighty balrog slayer's eyes.
"We will help your patrol and care for your wounded. You will enter the wood with us. And as soon as you are fit for travel you will leave Greenwood and you will not come back patrolling our borders. Any further disturbances will be treated as a threat."
"Who do you think are you, elfling?" Glorfindel lost his wits. He was here because he was bloody trying to help these thick headed wood elves! He was risking his damn life to defend their territory and all he got was defiance? This elf was barely older than the twins for crying out loud! The bodies of the elves who had died to help this darkening forest were laying on the ground around them, covered in blackish orc blood!
The elf, who had been about to turn away, slowly rose his eyes to meet Glorfindel's. An angry fire was burning in them and his elvish glow intensified with his anger.
"I am Alcanor Thranduillion, Crown Prince of Greenwood. You might remember me. I have learned to never trust Noldor!" He spat the last word as if it was an insult. "You nearly killed me for no reason. It is impossible to forget scars which are so visible, don't you think, oath-breaker? You can consider yourselves lucky that we value a life high enough to step in when it is endangered even if it is the life of someone who is our enemy too. I will not allow Noldor to enter Greenwood unless it is necessary. All bonds of friendship were broken with your disloyalty!"
Now Glorfindel was able to see the jarred scar across his neck and he knew that in this case he had uttered the worst possible words. But before he could say something Alcanor's name was called and the elf swiftly turned away. Glorfindel felt a sting in his heart as he saw how the Prince hurried and kneeled into the mud next to one of the wounded and pressed his hands onto the bloody wound in the elf's stomach. He heard the prince calling for someone to bring one of the torches the wood elves had lit so he'd be able to see the injury more clearly.
Glorfindel quickly realised that his people were all cared for, so he turned and went to the twins. A she-elf was kneeling in front of Elladan, her dark, curly hair held back with a leather strap. Her body was strained as if she expected an attack at any moment. Carefully, she held Elladan's hand, her eyes wandering to Elrohir's weapons every few seconds. She rose her eyes to see who was coming and Glorfindel recognised the bright silver colour. Her eyes and Alcanor's eyes seemed to be the same. This must be Eyaenne, Thranduil's oldest daughter and second child. She was a beauty. The skin tight body armour revealed her muscular and yet feminine frame. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the dark and her elegant eyebrows only intensified the natural shine of her silver eyes.
It took two hours to stabilize the wounded. Glorfindel helped as much as he could but the battle had exhausted him as well and soon he found himself laying on top of several blankets next to the twins and some wounded who had been tended to already. His eyelids almost shut in a tight sleep he remained unaware how the wood elves relentlessly worked. They burned the carcasses of the orcs and buried the bodies of the elves. Of the thirty-three elves who set out, eighteen were dead. No one was uninjured and it was only due to the wood elves' hard work that the six heavily wounded elves who had lain among the dead were still alive.
The wood elves carefully lifted the sleeping and the wounded onto stretchers and made their way to the close trees of the Great Forest.
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