Drabble Twenty-Seven: What Happens Now?
The gardens were quiet, the overhanging trees swaying in the gentle breezes. The moon's light was quenched behind grey clouds, and dusk and stars had fallen over Imladris. A slender figure stood alone in the shadow of the trees, facing out over the valley, clad in grey raiment, dark hair flowing down over his shoulders.
The stars were veiled; even so was his path. His sister sat long in her chambers, working with her maidens on a banner, black as the raven's wing. Her choice was to bring hope to Men, though it meant her long life would come to an end in a last twilight, alone in her grief. His brother, his twin, would not speak about his choice, though their fates were tied as close as they had been at birth.
Elrohir turned; he sighed. A gentle wind stirred his hair, and he raised his face to the night sky. The clouds fled before the darkness; as if in a dream he saw flames flickering on the horizon, and he felt the winter's cold.
"Brother?" A slight figure slipped up behind him, coming to stand at his side. Taller than most Elves, shoulders broader than Elven wont due to their mortal heritage, the twins stood silently in the dusk. The silence of night whispered about them, flowing through their veins, and Elrohir turned at last to his brother, leaning lightly on Elladan's shoulder.
"What happens now?" His voice was muffled by his brother's cloak, and Elladan's steel-grey eyes softened as he gazed down at his twin.
"Arwen is determined to ride out with the Rangers to Rohan," Elladan whispered, his voice echoing through the night. At this Elrohir raised his head, the slightest hint of a smile playing about his mouth.
"We cannot allow that, El. An elleth, alone amongst crude men? Adar would never forgive us."
"We have but one choice, then," Elladan replied, bringing his arm about Elrohir and leaning his head against his twin's. "We must ride out with them. To Estel."