Chapter VII
Elrohir used the commotion and knelt beside a wounded, around whom the Rohirrim had fussed a moment earlier. The boy was unconscious, his skin pale and dry. The elf uncovered the dressings on his shoulder and exhaled; it was bad, but not as tragic as he had thought from the comments he had heard.
Next moment he lost his balance as someone grabbed him from behind and dragged away from the wounded. Elrohir jumped on his feet and bit his lip, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder.
"Keep your hands away from my brother, elf," hissed the Rohirrim that interrupted him. He was older than the lying boy, and just like the rest of the patrol, he was wounded, dirty and tired.
"I won't hurt him, I want to help," objected Elrohir, letting the almost accusing tone of the man go by. He could understand his fear for his brother all too well, but he didn't move. From what he had grasped, the Rohirrim were about to cut the boy's arm. He was not going to let them do that.
"You will not use that magic of yours on him!" The man snarled, but before he tried to push Elrohir away, Elladan grabbed his arm.
"I wouldn't do that." The elder son of Elrond narrowed his steel eyes. "We are elves, we use herbs, not magic. And we can help your brother better than by amputating his arm," he added brutally.
Elrohir noticed that Hermedil heard their quarrel, but at the same time he spotted Aragorn taking out all the herbs Elladan had brought.
"Estel, please explain to him that we want to help, for we are just wasting our time," he said, irritated, involuntarily in Sindarin. "The poison has gone far, but I think I will be able to stop it."
As he heard a completely foreign speech, the brother of the wounded looked at the elves with hostile, but he said nothing when he saw Thorongil, so Elladan let go of him.
Whether it was Hermedil or Estel who gave some explanation to the mistrustful Rohirrim, Elladan did not care. His brother's thin lips told him what he already suspected; if they were to succeed, they would have to act swiftly and stop the infection caused by the poison. 'Eru witness, we've had more than enough experience in that recently,' Elladan thought grimly.
Elrohir was already undressing the boy from his sweat-soaked shirt. Seeing that it was already torn, he cut it freely. He wanted to lift him, but had to give up; his arm was still too weak.
"Help me," he hissed to his brother.
Whatever Estel had said to the Rohirrim, he must have succeeded, for they let the twins work. Someone brought water, someone passed dressings... Elrohir cleaned the wound and removed old, festered stitches, then backed to prepare the medicine. The elder son of Elrond took it upon himself to re-stitch the wound, telling his brother which herbs he had used to heal him. As it turned out in Elrohir's case, the orcs had come up with some new poison which caused them a lot of trouble, so it was safe to assume that it would be even worse for humans. The state of the boy proved well enough that if the medicine that healed Elrohir would not work, it wasn't going to end well. Despite what the Rohirrim might have thought, cutting the arm would not solve the problem, but would rather have killed the boy quicker.
Elladan did all he could and left the still unconscious boy in care of his brother. The Rohirrim, patched up in the meantime, looked at the elf more friendly, but he was still far from trusting. 'If something goes wrong, he will blame us," realised Elladan, but there was still much to do, so he didn't bother himself for the time being.
He straightened carefully. His side was still objecting bending like that. He noticed Elrohir was helping Estel, and then he supported a man passing by when his legs buckled.
The Rohirrim was not too high but broad and he leaned against Elladan with all of his weight. The elder son of Elrond muffled his own cry as the wounded accidentally hit his side; he had probably torn some of his stitches earlier as he had tended to the boy. A little bent to the side, Elladan led the man aside.
"Thank you." The man sank on the ground with relief, but he was glaring at the elf rather mistrustfully. He was pressing his hands to his thigh.
"Let me see, I'll help," offered Elladan, forcing himself to keep his voice even. He reluctantly took his hand from his own side, but he needed both if he was to do anything.
The Rohirrim didn't seem convinced, but he allowed the elf to remove the dressings. Elladan went on working, hissing as his side was bothering him. This time the wound didn't seem infected and he was grateful for that. Elrohir had found two more wounded with poison in their veins, so they were going to have a hard night anyway.
Elladan didn't even realise he was muttering under his breath, before the Rohirrim he was tending to asked Estel aloud. "What kind of spells is he murmuring?"
"Jus cursing the poisons and Morgoth's spawn dozens of generations back. Quite expressively," replied Estel, if Elladan understood him properly. "Elladan, be as kind as to swear in Common Speech, not everybody can understand you," said Estel to his foster brother.
His remark brought smiles to the faces of the Rohirrim. Some snorted, amused, only the one being treated by the elf looked unsure. Elladan smiled as well.
"I can't do it in your language," he remarked and went back to his work.
The mood was lifted up a bit, as soon there were some Rohirrim willing to teach their guests local curses. Willy-nilly, Elladan partook in the conversation, as all of them needed to relax a bit.
xxx
The commotion quieted as the wounded received help. Some left, some stayed under care. Elladan made sure the man he tended to got herbs Estel had prepared, then sought his brother.
Elrohir was kneeling by the boy again. His eyes were closed, he kept his hands on the boy's arm and was whispering something. The brother of the wounded was eyeing at him suspiciously, but he did not disturb him, seeing that the youngling stopped tossing and fell asleep. Elrohir didn't move, though, deep in trans. Elladan knew how taxing it was for him; none of them possessed the skills of their father, but what they were able to do, especially Elrohir, could save the kid's life.
Elladan approached the brother of the wounded as he was getting more and more restless and perhaps was about to interrupt Elrohir.
"Go, rest," he suggested quietly. "We'll keep watch."
"What is he doing?" The Rohirrim whispered back, watching Elrohir and the sweat that appeared on his forehead.
"He's trying to help, but it's tough. If he manages to make your brother sleep peacefully, it will be easier to fight off the poison."
The Rohirrim looked around, but as he saw many of his friends were staying, he agreed to go and left unsteadily. Elladan sat down next to his brother, careful not to disturb him.
"Have you seen my bag?" he asked Estel as he passed by.
"By the table, I think." Aragorn glanced at the table where the herbs had been prepared. "Do you want something?"
"Miruvor." The son of Elrond pointed at his brother, still by the wounded. "Ro will need."
"Aye." Elrohir nodded tiredly. He moved away from the bedding and leaned with relief against one of the pillars supporting the tent. "I hope it will help."
"Me too." Elladan moved closer and stretched his legs freely. "I'd rather not have to get up now."
"What is it?" asked Estel worriedly.
"Too much movement." The elder of the brothers gave him a wry smile. "Don't worry. We're staying here with the wounded anyway."
xxx
The sons of Elrond stayed in the camp for a few days, until they made sure the poison would not kill anyone. No one questioned their presence in the healing tent as their treatment gave results. The brothers mentioned once or twice they would be going soon, but when they said their time was up, many of the Rohirrim offered them to stay longer. The brothers suspected they would gladly go together on a patrol.
Estel alone did not argue. Those two weeks Elladan and Elrohir spent in the camp was more of a home than he had hoped. It grieved him to part with his foster brothers, but he knew they couldn't overuse the hospitality. Because of the commotion with orcs and problems with poison, as well as their usefulness, not many questions were asked, but they were sure to arise soon and cause Aragorn trouble. So as soon as it was plain the wounded would recover, the brothers bid their farewell.
"It's time for us to go back North," said Elrohir. "If we want to reach home before Winter, we need to cross the mountains before the snow falls. Later the pass will be impossible for our horses."
"You can go South," suggested someone. "The road is longer, but safer."
"It seems to me you know your paths well," said someone else. "But you also don't look like you'd ignore a good advice. Beware of the Golden Forest, strange and dangerous stories we know of this land and the Lady that rules there."
Elladan and Elrohir exchanged amused glances, but made no comments. There was no point in explaining that they indeed planned to stop in the land of Galadriel and perhaps spend the Winter there, if it was already too late to cross the mountains.
Aragorn went with them. He intended to ride a bit with them before going back to Meduseld. He wished to say farewell to his brothers without any witnesses.
The camp became more lively a few days later, when a group of adolescent boys from nearest
