A/N: I missed writing this. I really did. I penned this chapter out in a few hours. The only reason I'm posting it so soon after updating is because I really liked it and wanted to share it with you guys because I'm a goober like that. Many thanks to Llyrica, happy guest, Reader1, and TheWhiteWanderer for reviewing. Ya'll are aweshum.
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, savvy?
"Was that really necessary Elrohir?"
"She bit me," he replied in a rather deadpan and uncaring voice, wrapping a bit of cloth around his bloodied hand and casting a sour look towards the unconscious maiden.
"You did not have to strike her!"
The younger twin spun around, glaring at the elder. "She bit me, Elladan."
"And she kicked me but you did not see me cuff her."
A wry smirk graced Elrohir's lips as he began retrieving unbroken and usable arrows from around the campsite. "That is because you were much too busy writhing on the ground in agony to do so."
"It is strange though, seeing Haradrim so far north," Elladan commented, rekindling the fire before entering one of the tents. "Do you think it has anything to do with…you know…Him?"
"I certainly hope not," Elrohir murmured though her knew his brother had heard him. "What's even stranger is the fact they had a Rohirric maiden with them."
"True," Elladan agreed, shuffling through a few papers strewn across the ground. "Do you think she was a prisoner?"
"I am not sure though she does wear garb similar to theirs," the younger Peredhel replied, entering the tent with said-maiden in his arms.
"Ever the gentleman," his brother teased him gently as Elrohir placed her on one of the cots. "What kept you from killing her?"
"I-," he paused, pulling his hand back from the woman as if he had been burned. "She was defenseless. For all we know she was taken hostage. We will question her when she wakes."
Elladan knew his brother better than that. Elrohir wasn't as bitter and cruel as the other elves thought. He wouldn't harm a woman unless he had no other choice.
Elrohir was not entirely at fault for his cold demeanor. Discovering their mother half-dead in a Yrch den years before hadn't done any favors for their mental wellbeing. They had closed themselves off after that, throwing themselves into the Hunt with ridiculous vigor. Though their mother was alive in Aman it did little to alleviate the pain.
Elladan had eventually come to terms with it though it took a number of years. Elrohir hadn't. He still held onto the pain, the rage, the feeling of failure. He had been unable to protect one of his most precious people and for a warrior that was one of the most crushing blows he could ever be dealt.
Elladan feared for his brother, how he threw himself recklessly into battle. He didn't want to lose his twin and the sadistic side of Elrohir that surfaced when they battled Yrch frightened him.
A weary sigh escaped the eldest Peredhel as Elrohir's voice brought him back around. "This is a war camp, brother."
"Was a war camp," Elladan corrected him, turning to face his mirror image.
"These maps show they were heading west."
"And?"
"You do know what is west of here, yes?"
Elladan rolled his eyes. "Of course I know what is west of here. I did pay attention during our lessons with Erestor."
Elrohir folded his arms over his broad chest, arching a brow in an eerie imitation of their father. "Well?"
The eldest cleared his throat, parting his lips to answer before Elrohir beat him to it. "Mordor. They were heading to Mordor."
"Father's suspicions were correct then," he murmured, taking the map from his brother and looking it over before sighing lightly. "I do not like it when he is right."
"Especially about things such as these," Elrohir agreed somberly.
"Let us gather the bodies. We will burn them in the morning before we leave."
"What about her?" Elrohir asked, gesturing to the golden-haired woman.
"Let us just get through this evening. We can decide what we are going to do with her in the morn."
"If you insist."
Waking up was a numb affair.
Blinking groggily Billie gave a faint hiss as tears bubbled in her eyes from the sunlight streaming through the flaps of the tent. She raised her hands to her face, stopping halfway when she realized her wrists were bound together by rope.
Her eyes widened fearfully at the sigh as she made to get up, only halted by a hand pressing gently on her shoulder.
She flinched from the touch, curling her knees to her chest as her green eyes landed on pools of liquid stardust.
"You-!" she gasped aloud, recognizing him as the man who had attacked her the night before. "You son of a bitch!"
She lashed out with her feet though he easily evaded her strike with a slight sway backwards. "Calm yourself woman." His voice was like dark velvet, a smooth rich baritone that sent unwelcomed shivers racing down her spine.
"Who are you? Why did you kill them? Where's Pepé? Where's Náman? What have you done-?"
"Quiet." He certainly didn't have to be loud to have a presence. Her lips continued moving though no sound came out and she looked down at her lap. "Why were you with the Hasharin?"
"Where is Náman?"
"Speak woman. Why were the Hasharin travelling to Mordor?"
There was that word again; Mordor.
"I-I don't know. I just-," Billie was on the brink of tears and hated how her voice trembled.
"Stop brother. You are frightening her," she looked up in surprise, seeing a man identical to the one interrogating her enter the tent. The man interrogating her turned his back to her, conversing with his brother in hushed tones.
She licked her lips, spotting a discarded blood-stained dagger lying on the ground. Billie looked back up at the men before cautiously scooting herself towards it.
"I would not do that if I were you, milady." Her eyes shot up in surprise though neither man had even looked her way. After a moment they parted, standing before her like twin deities.
"My name is Elladan. This is my younger brother, Elrohir. We are elves from Imladris," the one on the right introduced himself with a slight dip of his head. "What is your name?"
"B-Billie," she winced when her voice cracked pitifully. Elves? What fresh hell had she landed herself in?
"Billy? That is a boy's name, is it not?" Elrohir said, resting a hand on his hip.
"My given name is Wilhelmina," she muttered as the two 'elves' exchanged confused looks. "Yeah, that look right there is why I go by Billie."
"Do you know why the Hasharin were heading west?"
"I don't-."
"Do not lie woman," Elrohir hissed.
"I'm not, really," she replied, throat growing unbearably tight in that way that told her she was moments from bawling her eyes out. "I-I just need to know where Náman is."
"Náman?" She nodded earnestly. "The man you were with?"
"Yes! Where is he?"
"We killed the remaining Southrons. We have heard whispers that the Haradrim and Easterlings have been sending envoys to Mordor, joining up with Sauron." Her heart plummeted into her stomach at those words.
"Y-you killed him?"
"Was he a lover of yours?" Billie almost recoiled at the words 'Elrohir' spat like vitriol
"No! He was my friend," she managed to choke out before a fresh wave of tears began falling. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms as she wept for her lost friend.
She didn't know how much time had passed, her cries of anguish reduced to hiccupping sobs every now and then. Billie swiped her sleeve over her heated cheeks, streaking tears and snot over the fabric but she didn't care. He was dead. The only reason why she had lasted so long in Arda was gone. It hurt, gods did it hurt.
"You are telling the truth."
"No shit," she spat, glaring with bloodshot eyes at the males in front of her. They exchanged uncomfortable looks.
"Were you taken prisoner?" She shook her head 'no'.
"I-I don't know what they were planning. I met Na-," she choked up for a moment before exhaling a shaky breath. "I met Náman a few months ago. I-I don't know where I am. I sort of just…tagged along with him after I helped him with an injury he sustained."
The twins began conversing in low terms once more, a language she couldn't understand before facing her.
"You will accompany us."
"Like hell," she snarled, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"It was not a request, Lady Billie."
"My mother told me not to talk to strangers."
"You know our names therefore we are not strangers," Elladan replied.
'Your logic is flawed,' she thought sourly to herself as Elrohir exited the tent. As soon as the flap fell back into place the stench of charred flesh wafted into her nose. She gagged, sour bile creeping up her throat as she fought the almost unbearable urge to vomit.
"Can you walk?" Billie looked at Elladan with watery eyes and allowed him to help her to her feet, ushering her out of the tent.
Billie whimpered upon seeing the remaining Hasharin being burnt on a large pyre. Her lower lip trembled when Elrohir hauled Duma's body over the fire.
"That is the last of them. We should go before the scent of blood draws the wolves." She whimpered once more as the mention of wolves made her think of her warg.
She cupped her hands around her mouth as best she could, "Pepé! Come here baby!"
The elves (elves? Really? Had she landed herself in Skyrim or WoW or something?) exchanged confused looks as they mounted their horses. Billie staggered around the remains of the camp, spotting a tuft of blood-matted wiry black fur caught on a sticky bush.
"Oh no," she moaned, touching it with shaky fingers and forcing down a wave of nausea. She shut her eyes, pulling a deep breath of cool air into her lungs. Maybe he was still alive. A bit of bloody fur didn't mean he was dead. Maybe-
"We need to get moving Lady Billie," one of the brother's said, ushering his horse towards her cautiously. "Can you ride?"
She held her bound wrists up, glaring sourly at him. She didn't want to go with them, she wanted to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction but self-preservation won out in the end. Her luck they'd shoot her dead before she even cleared the camp border.
"Oh. Right." He tightened his thighs around the horse, leaning over to help her up. Billie had never liked riding with another person but supposed she didn't really have a choice. She hated that he sat her in front of him, wrapping a powerful arm around her waist.
"Gwaem," he murmured as his horse whickered softly before taking off at a sedate pace.
Billie drifted in and out of consciousness for a long while as they rode. She refused to speak with either of her captors and when she was forced to she chose to speak with Elladan rather than Elrohir. It seemed he was the more approachable out of the pair
They travelled for over a month, passing through small rundown towns and she wondered if she had been bounced back to the Middle Ages.
It was their sixth week of travelling when they crossed a large golden field. It was silent aside from the steady hoof beats of their mounts before both steeds froze. Billie raised her head, wondering why they had stopped as Elladan's horse, Sadron, took a few skittish steps to the side.
Something had them spooked and the elves on edge, if the way Elladan was clutching her firmly around the middle was any indication at all. Clouds seemed to appear out of nowhere, covering the sky and blotting out the sun. The wind kicked up around them and Elladan tilted his head as though he were listening for something.
"Yrch!" Elrohir suddenly announced, wheeling his horse around and reaching for the sword on his left hip. Billie turned her head though she didn't see anything. "There are riders with them."
"Leave them brother. We are almost to the borders, the wardens will take care of them," Elladan told him. Without warning the brothers spurred their horses into gallops, racing across the meadow. Billie kept her eyes to the front, moving with the horse in an attempt to save her back from some pain later that evening.
"But-."
"Leave them." Billie glanced over her shoulder as much as she could, seeing the younger twin grit his teeth together in frustration.
"What's a yrch?" she asked quietly. Elladan didn't respond at first and for a moment she thought he hadn't heard her. It took a moment before she heard him speak.
"Pray you will never have to find out," he finally replied, racing through a small forested area as a bone-chilling howl ripped through the still air.
"The wolves are getting closer."
"I am aware. Our horses can outrun them."
'Oh god I'm gonna die. I'm gonna throw up and then I'm gonna die,' Billie bemoaned to herself. She was getting some serious motion sickness from all the jostling about.
After several long, tedious moments they crossed a shallow area in a stream. They finally slowed their panting horses to walks when they reached the other side, travelling along a well-trodden path between trees.
"This is Imladris. Known in the Common Tongue as Rivendell."
"Okay." The blood drained rapidly from her face as her stomach churned violently, the events of the day catching up with her in one fell swoop. "I-I think I'm-," she trailed off, eyes rolling back in her head as she unceremoniously slipped from the saddle onto the ground.
"Lady Billie-!"
To say Billie Turner awoke with the feeling that something wasn't quite right was a gross understatement.
Mordor.
Rivendell.
Elves.
She had a sinking suspicion she was missing a very important piece of information that would help her link everything together but didn't know what it was.
It was infuriating.
Though she had to admit, whoever had decorated the room she was in had excellent taste. The bed was a four-poster canopy, draped in gorgeous hues of silken red and liquid gold. The furniture was tasteful as well; an antique writing desk was pressed against the far wall with a quill and inkwell set into it, the wardrobe was of rich dark mahogany as were the tables beside the bed. Everything was lit by lanterns and candles, giving a surreal otherworldly atmosphere to the room.
She slipped quietly out of bed, rubbing her wrists gently and wincing as she brushed the areas where her skin had been rubbed raw. She glanced down, seeing someone had wrapped her hands in gauze. She was still wearing the same tunic and pants she had been for the past month and was in desperate need of a proper wash and clean clothes.
Somehow she figured her captives wouldn't be that accommodating. She supposed she was lucky they had bandaged her wounds.
She had to get out of there before the elves decided on what they were going to do with her. She had no desire to die like Na-
Billie closed her eyes for another moment, swallowing thickly and blinking back tears. She jolted in surprise when she heard someone knock on the door.
"Lady Billie. Are you awake?" It was a man's voice as Billie crept towards the door with catlike tread. Her eyes darted around for anything she could use to defend herself with.
'You'll do nicely,' she thought to herself with a slow smile, reaching for her weapon of choice.
"She was speaking in such strange tongues Ada. Is it possible she is possessed?"
"I do not think she is. I think she was merely frightened and I cannot blame her for feeling as such. Perhaps it was her homeland's language she was speaking."
"I suppose," Elrohir muttered. "I am going to the stables to give Faeron a good rubdown. He deserves it."
"Where is Arwen?"
"Teaching Lady Yávien how to be a lady."
"Elladan?"
"Visiting with Lord Glorfindel and keeping him from stealing Yávien away for an afternoon rendezvous."
"Of course," Elrond sighed, bidding his middle child farewell before starting down the private wing of his home.
Most inhabitants of Imladris resided in small cottages on the grounds. Only he and his family lived in the main hall and even then it was a small portion sanctioned off from the rest. He had placed the Edain in the room he usually reserved for his mother and father in law though their visits had become few and further in-between.
It was not surprising, with the threat of Sauron growing stronger and from what his sons had told him Sauron was already recruiting for his army.
Elrond came to a stop before the bedroom, knocking politely as he knew Men did not like being barged in on and especially not women.
"Lady Billie? Are you awake?" He heard her shuffle about, approaching the door cautiously. Her footsteps faltered for the briefest of moments before resuming and coming to a halt beside the door. "May I come in?"
When no response came Elrond rested his hand on the door handle. "I am coming in, Lady Billie," he announced, opening it slowly.
The world spun violently before his eyes as he slumped to the floor. He glanced blearily at the tiny Edain standing over him, the remains of said-vase falling to the floor with a soft tinkling sound. His vision faded to black as he heard her footsteps beat a hasty retreat down the hallway. Even with all the power of foresight Vilya granted him, there was no way he could have possibly seen that one coming…
Yes. Billie did in fact brain Lord Elrond with a vase. Why you ask? Why not, I say. Before somebody comments that Billie shouldn't have been able to get one over on Elrond think about it. He figured she was harmless. It was simply a bad decision on his part. I really like writing the Twins. I don't know why. I hate that people portray them as the Fred and George of elves or flirty horn dogs. It seems like an insult to Tolkien. Maybe it's just me. I don't know. I feel like they can be playful and open with one another but not a stranger or anyone outside their family. So yeah. I hope you guys enjoyed.
