Hi people!
It has been a while since the last chapter.
Before starting I would like to thank Celridel for her immense help in editing this story as well as to thank d'elfe, Backstreet Girl and Ducking Cute for their encouraging reviews.
In the last chapter happened what we all know: Elwing turning into a white bird taking with her the Silmaril while Laura fought Maehdros. Now we'll see how the twins met her.
Waiting for your reviews, guys!
Chapter 3: Elros and Elrond
Laura slammed her heel into the door, just above the lock. There was a splintering sound, like kindling breaking. She kicked it once more, and the heavy cellar door swung in with a groan.
The cellar was dark, with a vaulted stone ceiling and a damp earth floor. She stepped into the gloom carefully. She knew the twins were in here, she could smell them, but for a minute she could not see them.
There was the shuffle of small footsteps behind her, like the pitter-patter of a frightened sparrow's heart. She spun, her claws out, and saw the children sprinting away, through the arched halls, towards an open door that led to the outside.
She started out, then disappeared back into the cellar shadows as an Elf came darting down the stairs. He was tall and slender, his cloak blue and his hair black, his elaborate armor denoting his high rank.
Laura stalked this Elf silently, even as the Elf followed the children. Elros and Elrond ran a winding path through grey alleys, heading towards the reed-choked marshes. When Laura was sure only the one Elf-Prince was following her quarry, she closed the distance between them until she was within striking distance, ready to land a blow at the back of his skull.
Although she made no noise, the Elf slid under her fist with uncanny instinct, turning to face her. Laura looked back, seeing the similarities he had to Maedhros. She supposed it was Maglor. Laura knew was an excellent fighter, but Maedhros had been able to break her bone even when taken by surprise. If Maglor had inherited any of his brother's skills, it would be a long fight, and she had no time.
Maglor made no move. Laura was not imaginative, but in the starlight, she thought that his grey eyes would crowded with ghosts. She wondered if her eyes ever looked like that.
"Are you here for the children?"
Laura nodded.
"My brother wants to use them as bargaining chips for the Silmaril. But we will not hurt them."
"They're children," she said. "Not leverage."
"My brother will put a price on your head, and will most likely remove mine," Maglor said as farewell, and walked away, back towards the grey ghost-city that the Havens had become.
Laura moved on. The fog was closing in, thick and chilly, but she could hear them ahead.
"Mother sent a message to Gil-Galad. We could hide here until he comes." she heard one say. "And it would take weeks to search all the reed forests, Elrond."
There was a short pause.
"No," Elrond answered at last. "It's no good. He's the son of Fingon. Who knows which side he'll take?"
Laura's green eyes widened a little. A child who had only seen six summers was already untangling the twisted threads of politics, friendships, and families?
"She knows that too. She won't have gone to Balar with the Nauglamír," Elros said. "We have to leave."
Laura stepped into their field of view, kneeling down in the cold water until she was level with them. "Yes," she agreed. "We have to go. I have a skiff hidden."
A small kitchen-knife flashed in Elros' hand. "Get away. I know how to use this."
"Of course you do," Laura said. She plucked the knife from the boy's hand and stowed it away in her belt. "I admire your courage, but we don't have time for it. I'm here to help, so let's go."
When they hesitated, she grabbed their hands and ran, bent double, to the small boat she had stowed away in the reeds. From there, she rowed up the Sirion. The river was languid at the best of times, with a weak current, so by the time dawn had begun to lighten the sky, she had put five miles between herself and the Havens.
"Break time's over," she said, severer than she would have liked. She had never cared for children and rarely dealt with them. She felt uncomfortable under the Elónoni's gaze, and discomfort made her sharp tongue even sharper. She ran the skiff aground. A forest surrounded, filled with mild mossy smells, but she kept herself alert, aware that the followers of the Fëanorians could be here.
She set a brisk pace and for a while, her charges were able to keep up. The sun rose, the light filtered in through thick groves of the old forest.
Then the footsteps stopped behind her. She turned back to see Elros sitting, his back against the tree. Elrond stood near him.
"Get up," she said angrily. "They'll find us."
"I am stopping here," Elros responded haughtily. "You are not a nursemaid. That was Meleth."
Laura crouched down and smiled thinly. "You're right. I'm not Meleth. I'm Mortissë. We need to keep going, alright?"
"Why do we need to come with you?"
Laura counted to ten. In Quenyan. "Because otherwise, the Fëanorians will find us."
"But why do we need to go with you? Where are you taking us?"
Laura counted to ten again. In Quenyan. Backward. "Because someone asked me to take care of you. You can trust me."
Elros scoffed. Laura saw how tired his eyes were. For all his mannerisms and bravado, he was only a small and traumatized boy.
With a conscious effort to soften her tone, she said, "Someone asked me to take care of you. Someone more powerful and intelligent than any of us can imagine." She looked around, testing the woodland air, her nostrils flaring. It was clean and she looked back to the children. "Tell you what. What if we rest here for two hours? Then we'll move on."
Elrond sat down beside his brother, and they leaned their heads together in a display of affection Laura found sickeningly sweet.
One of them began to sing, his child's voice low and piping.
"Now we sleep, and dreams I will weave you-"
"Hush," Laura snapped. "Just go to sleep." She sat with her back to a tree, in the flickering shadows, ready for everything except handling children.
In the Havens
Maglor walked slowly. The grey alleys and streets twisted and turned in a labyrinth, every exit seeming to lead him towards the sea. It was a slow and tortuous route for an outsider, and besides, there was no need to hurry towards Maedhros' fury and castigations.
He found his brother sitting on the steps of the watchtower, a bandage wrapped around his head. Blood blossomed on the white linen, nearly the same color as his hair.
Maedhros jumped to his feet like he was jerked by an invisible puppeteer when he saw Maglor. "Brother," he said slowly. "Come here."
Maglor approached him warily, wariness crystalizing to a gut-wrenching fear when Maedhros held out his arms. "Maitimo, what are you doing?"
His brother hugged him anyways, his arms inordinately strong. "The twins," he whispered.
Maglor jerked away. "I did not find the Elónoni, Maitimo," he said, abrupt and defensive.
A complicated expression crossed Maedhros' face, but grief, not anger came out victorious. "Not the Elónoni. Our twins. Ours."
Maglor felt his gorge rising in him. Gorged on grief, gorged on grief, his mind sang. "No," he said. He heard the ice-skim of hysteria in his voice. "They are dead?"
He wanted to break, to destroy, to become a dragon and unleash fire and blood but instead, his legs gave way beneath him. The stones rushed up to kiss him. This was too much. Too much.
Maedhros' face wavered above him, like a reflection in disturbed water.
Havens, Maglor thought and knew no more.
He woke with the sun streamed in through the windows, disoriented. His throat was dry and aching, his mind a pale void of swirling, ragged words. He grabbed impotently after them, trying to collect enough to make a coherent thought, but every time he had a handful, they flew away from him again.
Maglor heard a door open behind him. He turned to see Maedhros. His brother's armor was gone, he smelled of brine and his thick hair was dripping with water as if he had just been swimming. Now memories came rushing back, assailing his mind with a fusillade of pain. He clutched his head in his hands. Maedhros came and sat beside him, placing a hand awkwardly on his back.
"All be well, Makalaurë. It will be. Please believe me."
"Did you bury them?" Maglor asked thickly.
"Yes," Maedhros said. He did not look away. "Yes, I did."
Maglor focused every fiber of his being on breathing. In out. In out. He liked the sound of that litany. It was better than my fault, all my fault. He felt anger at being denied passage to the last rite, to say his final goodbyes, but he also knew he would have buried himself before allowing a single spadesful of earth to be thrown on their pale faces.
Maedhros slid off the bed and crouched before Maglor. "Where are they, Makalaurë? I have already sent out hunting parties. They will find them before long." He paused, then said, "I know you let them go." There was cold pity in his eyes.
Maglor did not look away. "Why do you want them?"
Maedhros was stiff, nearly quivering with anger, but his kingly reserve held his wrath in check. "The Isle of Balar is the nearest haven for Elwing," he said slowly, as if explaining something to an idiot child. "And Gil-Galad would pay a goodly sum for the Princes of Arvernien. Perhaps even surrender the Silmaril."
"And if they refuse? Do you intend to march on Gil-galad as well, Maitimo?" Maglor demanded, his voice reaching a pitch he could seldom attain. "Perhaps you intend to slaughter the son of Findekáno also!"
Maedhros' right hand, the metal one, blazed up, but he did not strike his brother. His hand slowly fell away, but his voice was brittle as hoarfrost. "Where are they, Makalaurë?"
"I lost them in the salt-marshes," Maglor replied flatly.
Maedhros shook his head. "Brother, I read you like a hornbook. You can track a falcon on a cloudy day, and you would never leave children to rot in the wild. You gave them to someone. Who? Who?"
"A woman," Maglor said reluctantly. "There was a woman who said she would care for them. And after what happened to Eluréd and Elurín I could not bring them back. Not in good conscience."
"I looked," Maedhros said softly. "I looked for weeks. You know I did."
"I know," Maglor whispered. It seemed to him that he saw a scale, as Maedhros struggled with himself. Maglor held his breath, hoping it would tip towards the twins and not the Oath.
Then Maedhros stood up abruptly. All doubt in his eyes was gone. "I will tell the search parties that there is a Fírima with the boys."
"I did not say she was mortal," Maglor rushed, but Maedhros' eyes were grey ice. "A Fírima attacked me, and the Havens of Sirion is not known for housing men. I broke her leg bone. I heard it snap."
"The woman I saw was not limping," Maglor returned.
Maedhros hissed through his teeth. "So, either we have two mortal vigilantes or one who can heal herself in the space of a few hours? That seems more than unlikely."
"You should let them go," Maglor said dully.
"No! We need the Princes. Where did you leave your wits?"
"Perhaps at Alqualondë," Maglor murmured, but Maedhros was already gone.
Three months had passed, and a white winter had stripped the leaves from a yellow autumn. Laura and her charges now called the forest of Taur-im-Duinath their home.
In a strange way, Laura supposed she had begun to take refuge in the twins. She found succor in their company, in the middle of a world that seemed careening towards hopelessness. They had taught her how to find wild neeps, beets, and other sustaining roots and plants, and in turn, she had taught them the rudiments of hunting, and how to tan the hides of larger prey. They taught her how to listen to the woods, and she taught them how to fight.
More than that, she enjoyed their company. She had found Elrond to be quiet where Elros was loud, thoughtful where Elros was impetuous. Elrond rarely voiced his feelings or opinions, but Elros flared up like fire.
They had spent the summer wandering south-east, for Laura wanted distance between the Fëanorians, but also a mild climate. So she had taken her charges to the forest of Taur-im-Duinath was empty. It was also a hilly place, tightly woven with trees and thickets. Soldiers in full armor would struggle to pass through, leaving Laura free to use her guerilla tactics should any come.
However, she had seen no signs that the Fëanorians were following, and she had relaxed her guard a little, even letting Elros continue his stream of loud chatter as they trekked through the hills, searching for a deserted cave to winter in.
The wind was rising as night fell. Flakes began to fall, soft goose-down that coated the trees with white.
The wind continued to rise, making a high shrill sound, and eventually, Elros fell silent, only speaking to announce he was cold.
"It'll be warmer if you keep moving," Laura told him. "Besides, you don't want to spend the night out here, kiddo." She noted with envy that Elros and Elrond were walking effortlessly on the crust of the snow, while she was breaking through.
They reached the zenith of a great craggy hill, the bastard child of a mountain. It fell away below them in a steep, stony incline that would be difficult to get down, even without the snow.
"Mortissë," Elrond said suddenly. It was the first time he had spoken for several hours.
"What is it, kiddo?" Laura asked. She thought she could hear something in the distance, mixed in with the howling wind.
"The trees," Elrond finished succinctly and Laura was finally able to pinpoint the sound. It was a voice behind them, or rather, several voices.
"God dammnit," she murmured under her breath. "Stay here," she said, turning sharply to the twins. "I'm going to go take a look and you're going to sit behind this tree and not move."
"Mortissë," Elrond said softly. "Be careful."
Laura felt a smile curve her lips upwards.
Laura slipped through the falling twilight, darting from tree to tree as she went down the hill.
Half down, she saw them through the big flakes that swirled lazily. Maedhros' hair blazed like a beacon and Maglor walked beside him, head down against the wind. Scattered around were fifteen or twenty of his soldiers.
She realized angrily that there was no way to outrun them. If she tried to get the twins down that precipitous slope, one of them would fall and break a bone, particularly in a snowstorm.
She stayed still, pressed to the back of a twisted broadleaf tree like she was trying to become one with it. The soldiers had no rank or formation, they were spread out, and one of them had woken up unlucky.
When he drew near her, Laura pistoned her arm out from behind the tree and dragged him in, smashing her skull against his bare head. The Elf fell with barely a sound, but she heard a sudden shout from down the hill.
Laura snatched up the shield and sprinted up the hill to where the twins sat.
"Hey kiddos," she said softly. "We're going sledding."
She laid the shield down, concave side up, and helped them on. Then she grabbed the shield and began to run, pushing it along the ground, gaining momentum until the cliff suddenly vanished beneath her feet. Laura leaped on at the last second, and they careened wildly down the slope, flying over stones and snow and roots. The piney vale below seemed to speed up to meet them with terrifying speed.
Laura let go of the shield and wrapped her arms around the twins, curling her body around them as they hit the first pine tree. There was a crack, and Laura felt sudden pain explode in her side as her ribs broke on the impact.
The Elónoni were sore and scratched but not seriously injured. Laura had taken the worst of it. Several of her ribs were broken and her shoulder had been dislocated. She lay still, buried in the soft, cold pillow of the snow, and waited for them to heal.
"Mortissë," Elrond whispered. "Are you well?"
Laura nodded slowly, feeling her body knit itself back together, pulling her back to peak perfection. "Yes, I'm good. Come on, we need to put a few more miles between us and them."
The snowstorm died around midnight. Laura made a small fire under a rock outcropping, and they huddled around it, dressed in their leathers and furs.
Laura leaned against the rock wall, weary and ready to kill for something hot to drink. She was tired of eating snow whenever she felt thirsty and she thought longingly of mulled cider or hot chocolate. Those thoughts led her back to Glorfindel and his warmth. So pure, so beautiful. The sweetness of his voice, the warmth of his skin.
"Would you sing us a song?"
Her thoughts fell like a shattered mirror, littering her skull with fragments of memories. She blinked and saw Elros' eyes fixed on her.
"My voice isn't very good," She protested weakly.
Elros shook his head dismissively. "It doesn't matter."
She sang softly:
' This old house is falling down around my ears
I'm drowning in a river of my tears
When all my will is gone you hold me sway
And I need you at the dimming of the day
You pulled me like the moon pulls on the tide
You know just where I keep my better side
What days have come to keep us far apart
A broken promise or a broken heart
Now all the bonny birds have wheeled away
And I need you at the dimming of the day
Come the night you're only what I want
Come the night you could be my confidant
I see you on the street and in company
Why don't you come and ease your mind with me?
I'm living for the night we steal away
I need you at the dimming of the day
I need you at the dimming of the day.'"
Sometime during the song, the twins curled up beside her. She felt herself melt under their warmth; all her defenses turned to paper. They fell asleep nestled against her. Laura sat very still until she was sure they were fast asleep, and then she sang one more song, her own lullaby, mouthing the words.
"' Hey, here we go!
Through the grass, across the snow
Big brown beastie, big brown face,
I'd rather be with you
Then falling through space.'"
Tears coursed freely down her cheeks, a steady flow that refused to stop. She had always sung it accompanied by her guitar, but her guitar lay somewhere in the dead ruins of Gondolin, no doubt turned into ashes and smithereens.
She swallowed hard.
Her home was a sad loss, but she had wandered before and she would do it again. Her guitar was a sad loss, but she could make a new one. But Glorfindel was more than a loss. To come so close to pure love and lose it so violently was something not even centuries could heal. Her heart had been broken, crushed into a plethora of splinters, leaving her with a mass of angry muscle in her chest. The twins had helped alleviate the pain, but she reflected bitterly that all good things must come to end. They were Princes, not outlaws, and they did not want to wander for the rest of their lives. They deserved hearth and home, not this.
Laura closed her eyes and slept...or so it seemed.
As you may have noticed, Laura sings to the twins the same song she once sang to Lord Glorfindel: 'The Dimming of the Day'. Don't forget this song because it will appear in the next book and it will have a very important role between Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel.
Waiting for your reviews, guys!
