Chapter 34
Elrohir was pinned under the Man's bulk inside the canvas enclosure. He quickly regained his hold on his opponent's knife-hand poised all-too-close to his face. The man fought madly, still clawing at his face with his other hand, only pausing to smash his fist into Elrohir's side every once in a while.
Elrohir had heard the crack of the horn breaking and had figured by the rage-tainted glee that entered the man's eyes at the sound that he thought he had shattered a few of the elf's ribs. But it was not so. The precious moments the man lost by trying to jab at Elrohir's 'broken ribs' was enough time for Elrohir to roll over to the top, simultaneously wedging his knee between them then pressing it into his opponent's torso.
Ashtan gasped under the pressure and grit his teeth angrily when the elf wrested the knife from his grasp. Ashtan thrashed about, his foot connecting with something solid. A crash of wood was heard and shattered glass rained down on them as he felt some liquid soak the leg of his trousers. Ashtan made one last futile attempt to free himself by yanking on the front of the elf's clothing, causing him to double over and release the pressure of his knee.
Elrohir ducked inside the man's swing at his face and used the moment to slit his opponent's throat. Breathing hard, he untangled the man's hand from his tunic and stood, a sense of urgency telling him to get outside and aid Elladan, who, from the noise and jumbled Quenya, was undoubtedly covering for him.
But now that he wasn't preoccupied with saving his neck, Elrohir had a chance to look at his surroundings. Flimsy wooden shelves lined the walls of the tent, each one filled with either vials of some concoctions or a strange assortment of herbs and roots or dusty old books.
So this is what the human Jaen was accomplishing in all his skulking, Elrohir thought as he ambled over to one of the books. Why, it was written in none other than Sindarin! Elrohir scanned the page as realization suddenly struck him of the meaning of just what Jaen had been doing with all these mixtures. He shoved the book into his belt, brimming with urgency to show it to his Adar.
A particularly loud chorus of shouts snapped back into his current situation. Elrohir snagged his weapons from out of the corner of the tent where they had been taken after his capture. He shrugged on his quiver and made for the entrance of the tent when something in his periphery made him freeze in his tracks, ideas racing rapidly through his head.
He bent down and examined the mixture that had soaked through a section of his dead human opponent's clothing. It wasn't blood.
The Noldo rubbed the coarse cloth between his fingers and lifted it to his nose. It didn't look dangerous. Didn't smell dangerous either. His skin merely felt wet. But the substance glowed. A bright red luminescent gel... Gears turning, Elrohir quickly gathered up several vials of the same substance from one of the other leaning shelves.
He started toward the entrance but then abruptly stopped. It would be quite unwise to disturb Elladan's show of pretense. He rolled under the opposite side of the tent, coming to his feet and finding himself outside of the clearing where it was considerably darker from the lack of torches. His heart nearly jumped in his throat at the sight of a large, hulking figure, definitely taller than him, sidling right up to him!
He scrambled backwards until his back met the thick canvas of the tent he had just exited. The creature neared him until he could hear its rasping breath blowing in his face. He shivered and fumbled for his bow, but let it fall limply from his hands, for it was unstrung. His fingers curled around the most convenient object near him— which happened to be one of the vials of luminescent gel— and hurled it into what he made out to be the creature's face.
I missed, of course I had to miss, Elrohir thought with increasing panic as the beast sidled closer and closer on it's trembling prey.
The glass met the beast's chest with a crash, leaving behind a bright red, glowing splatter. It let out a bewildered squawk and beat it's wings.
Elrohir's eyes widened in relief.
"Oh sweet Eru! Forgive me, I am relieved that it is you."
The Eagle looked at him sheepishly and let him near. The Noldo promptly buried his face in the Eagle's smooth, glossy feathers, momentarily wandering off the arduous path of his mountain of troubles.
Mind wandering, Elrohir let his eyes linger on the smother of flame-like luminescence bristling on the great bird's chest.
He let out a weary chuckle. "I am sorry to have assailed you so, mellon-nin. Good thing this stain upon your feathers was made by myself; why, if I didn't know better I would've thought you a fierce and furious fire-drake! My senses would surely have left me then!" he laughed as he fondled the Eagle's feathers, but his easy mirth quickly faded. He stared at the Eagle, then to the pouch of vials at his hip.
Elrohir glanced back to the tent that concealed the source of the violent din of their adversaries.
"Would you mind returning a favor, tithen mellon-nin?" asked the Noldo with a distant, calculating look. The Eagle perked as an affirmative, soft eyes bearing a deftly hidden glimmer of intelligence. He could talk, of course, but was uncomfortable doing so to creatures other than his own kin. Elrohir had taken measures to avoid necessary two-way conversations with his comrade once he had learned of it.
The Noldo then promptly kneeled next to a conveniently placed boulder and cracked open yet another of the glass vials, the curious substance lighting aflame as it slithered free of its transparent confinement.
"Well, tithen mellon-nin. I was never renowned for my artistic abilities but I suppose we can make this work with our combined efforts," he drawled. Elrohir dragged a finger through the moist substance, feeling as if it was some sort of forbidden fire. "This is even richer than my last idea. Poor Elladan..." The irony was lost on the quiet bird.
Sharp, unintelligible shouts from the chaos on the flip side of the tent injected an urgency to his movements.
He bit his lip in concentration, a slather of the forbidden fire, as he had come to call it, adorned his pale fingertips in something akin to a lighted match. "'Tis the day I grieve that I have never set eyes upon a dragon," he said with resigned sigh, getting to work of turning his feathered friend into a beast of flame. "But then I suppose the Edain know just as much as I do on the details of such a Serpent's appearance. A fine fire-drake you shall make, tithen mellon-nin!" Elrohir exclaimed with a flourishing sweep of his fingers across an outstretched wing and a wry smile, unaware of the latest development in his twin's dire predicament.
Elladan's precise gaze skittered across the clearing, from one angry charging Adan to the next. He waited until the last moment, reaching into the dwindling pouch of encased orbs of mist at his hip. His heart sped up with every crashing footstep as he sharply drew out his arm and waited for the expected shower of floury fog.
Only this time none came; he had thrown nothing, for his pouch was now empty. Mind racing, he conjured the fiercest voice he could manage, this time in the Common Tongue.
"Come no closer lest you feel my wrath!"
Some Edain altogether slid to a stop, others merely hesitated.
Elladan struggled to keep up his elaborate and quite ambitious façade as thick smoke mingled with the haze of many exhausted powdery orbs in the air and clogged his heaving airways. He sputtered slightly and dodged a whistling arrow.
He looked around and realized there were less than a dozen Edain still after him, now just circling him warily. He let his Light flare out in a physical spectacle of his pretentious rage and to hopefully discourage the firing of arrows.
Many of the Edain had taken flight from this foreign creature of doom, but a sizable horde still remained bunched about a great flare of fire as it steadily circled the stack of explosive vials with its devouring reaches. They thrashed and batted at the angry flames, but it was vain. The crates alighted and Elladan was suddenly caught up in matters far more pressing than the Edain.
"It is no use!"
"It's too strong!"
"Run afore it blows!"
"RUN!"
Eyes wide, the Noldo searched for a route of escape and bunched his muscles for a leap into the boughs that might prove his salvation. He threw an anxious, pleading glance to the tent. Elrohir saes...
Fire erupted in his thigh and he stumbled to his knees, catching the makings of and ungainly sprawl with his hands. An offending shaft stuck out from his leg, warm blood already pooling out of the puncture.
He blinked rapidly and stared at the wavering pinnacle of his new and breathtaking source of discomfort. I never did tolerate foreign objects in my flesh very well, he thought in consternation as if still grasping to the crumbling ledge of easy assurance.
A rough, graying sound assaulted his delicate ears as well as the heaving of many breaths. He mustered the strength to lift his head and mildly observed through squinted lashes as the Edain heaved a great steel trough on its side—most likely being initially used to water the great horses—spilling the contents over the hissing flames as they swiftly died out with an angrily defiant wisp of thin smoke. The rebellious tongues of fire were soon stamped out by drenched mesh sacks of the Edain.
Elladan lowered his gaze to the ground, unable to move. The world flipped upside down and inside out so that he could no longer tell which leg had been shot so as to collapse on the opposite side. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed away the shifting black blotches from his vision.
He was absently aware of dull thudding of footsteps nearing him and the chorus of shouts as he was now the center of attraction now that the preoccupation has been doused. His head snapped up to what he could make out to be a figure before he sorely regretted it. The world spun drunkenly and the gaping maw of oblivion threatened to drown him.
The skittish Adan stamped upon the jutting arrow like one might kill an insect and recoiled when the elf screamed out in pain and doubled over, grabbing at the hair behind his temples as if his head pained him. Seeing as nothing unnatural was produced from the creature's cry, the Adan called for aid and his compatriots swiftly answered. Soon the elf was again being trussed up in their thickest rope.
"Holy heavens..." gaped one of the humans that was keeping a firm hold of the creature's shuddering shoulders.
Fear swept over the remaining crowd like a flood and several screamed at the ominous glow of a beast perched in the branches. Swirls of red decorated its body with elegant scrawls of the heat within the beast and illuminated the gleaming eyes and spear-like talons.
It spread its wings and soared low over the camp, causing the enemy to cower in fear. The Eagle (though this was unknown to the Edain below) produced the most guttural sound it could muster, hoping it added a somewhat theatrical flair to the already laughable performance.
The effect was like clockwork.
"A dragon!"
"Beware!"
"We are all doomed!"
"Cursed elf!"
Elladan was quickly abandoned in a small heap in the rotting leaves, curled in on himself as if wishing away the entire world.
Elrohir, astride the Eagle, let loose a fog bomb to the scurrying below.
"Tis a fire drake!"
"Fly! Fly!"
Swooping again, Elrohir caught a glimpse of his twin's rumpled form and his heart jumped into his throat. Valar no...
Squeezing his knees in a silent request, Elrohir reached down and shifted his weight so to pull his brother into his arms.
They were nearly there...
And... now!
Elrohir leaned down, tossing a fog bomb into the closest throng of stumbling and fleeing humans for good measure, and caught hold of Elladan's upper body. Elrohir slid precariously to the side under the added weight and clamped his knees around the Eagle in a desperate attempt to avoid any acquaintance with the unforgiving ground and frantic footsteps of the frightened.
The Eagle took this as a signal and sharply angled his flight upwards. One of Elrohir's hands slipped from his tenacious cling to his brother and his heart fluttered with panic. They soared higher and higher. Gritting his teeth Elrohir heaved.
And to his relief Elladan's unresisting dead weight slid into his lap. Holding his brother close, Elrohir let his feathery comrade pilot the rest of the flight, uncaring for all but the steady beat of his twin's heart.
The Eagle's swift descent scolded Elrohir otherwise. They had one final task to complete.
The original camp where Elrohir had first been taken captive enlarged as they neared it. The Noldo tightened the grip of his knees, less sharply this time, and trained his eyes upon the deceivingly innocent-looking stack of crates. Flexing his hand, he snatched a few of the vials as humans parted the way for the 'dragon'.
They turned tail and began flying in a direction that would lead them past the line of camps besieging the stronghold.
Taking careful aim, he let loose one of the vials, the camp below exploding in an earth-trembling boom as it chain-reacted with the entire stack.
A fleeting thought had Elrohir fearing the King's reaction for blowing up his forest, but decided that was not a merry thought for this moment and pushed it away.
Rumor of the fearsome elf-turned-dragon spread like wildfire and evolved conveniently as rumors are prone to do.
The two elves and their trusty steed took a quick detour to sweep over the disbelieving heart of mortals at the other camps, throwing them into a terror as well with the help of the remaining vials and fog bombs.
Once their task was complete, the Eagle gently set them down on a grassy knoll South of the string of enemy camps, then wordlessly took flight again, the words 'find the King' reverberating freshly in its mind.
Elrohir gasped at the shattered shaft jutting out of his twin's thigh and promptly went about in preparing the setting to care for the wound.
Elladan moaned softly and blearily cast his eyes up to the coaxing voice of his twin when the offending projectile was removed and professionally cared for. The arrow had not been poisoned, Valar be praised.
"El? El, awaken. Ú-losto, muindor-nin."
Elrohir fondly brushed a stray strand of damp hair from Elladan's brow as he stirred.
"Hurry El, I must show someone before I burst!"
Elrohir produced the book he had snatched from Jaen's tent of concoctions and excitedly held it out to Elladan's still lightly glazed eyes, not allowing him even a moment to watch the bright spots of the camps as tiny swarming black dots that bustled about their preservation.
Elrohir only hoped his Adar would take notice of the hole in the siege line they had created, or all would be for naught.
"A book," stated Elladan, unamused. "You disturb me because of a dratted book. I am injured and require rest; let me be." He made a move to turn to lie on his other side, but Elrohir caught his shoulder and shoved the open book before his face.
Elladan glared at him best he could in his drowsy state. His brother gives him a sleeping draught and urges him to read a book. Perhaps he really had gone mad, the Noldo thought, recalling the memory of Elrohir's absurd plan of action and groaned. He had been fool enough to follow his little brother in the first place. But it had worked. By some sweet miracle the whole silly thing had come together in the end.
Elrohir rapped the parchment insistently and Elladan skimmed over the page half-heartedly. Once finished, he cast an irritated question to his brother worded in his glowering countenance as he struggled to remain in the waking world.
"Well?" he growled impatiently. "Just give it to me plain and simple and spare me the sore sight of your dull books."
Elrohir shook his head in a gesture of hopelessness for his brother's unenthusiastic perspective of books and replied tautly, "It tells of ways to tamper with the Eldar's magic of Concealment, and how to change one's features entirely. It is rather quite interesting, really and I would—"
"El," his brother growled again.
Elrohir let out a rushed sigh. "Bother. I found it in the curious tent back at the camp—"
"So you left me out there in a horde of angry mortals, while you ambled around and thought up scholarly annotations for the Sprite's choice of literature?! Valar Elrondion, if you ever think you will drag me into another one of your—"
"Oh, hush up, El, listen!" Elladan settled for a half-lidded glower and quieted. "Don't you see? Tauriel said the rogue General had delivered the small flask of Thranduil's blood she had gathered from her attack to a human healer of some sort. While there, she overheard some of the Advisor's plans," Elrohir said tactically. "Ausocitin was pressuring the human to make him appear as Thranduil. Which then, explains the blood and this book!"
Elladan was already asleep.
oOoOoOo
If victory by superstition happened in Rangers Apprentice, it can happen here too. ;D
A grateful shoutout to any guest reviewers I was unable to personally thank.
Side note: I hadn't planned on hurting Elladan til it just happened. :) Your welcome.
Thank you dearly, Scribbles! Much love!
