Author's Note: I'd like to thank Gerri, Anonymous, STACEY, Estriel Laureatinwe and JenJinn for their reviews. To C.P. I would like to dedicate this chapter- what you did was what fanfic author's live for; Thank you so very much (by the way- you were right; Something does happen to the triplets ^_^).
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Elrond stood and looked out the window. When this did not stop the restless feeling, he began to pace the window length.
"What is the matter, my friend?" Thranduil asking, sipping his wine.
"I am not sure," Elrond admitted. "I have a terrible feeling that something is wrong."
Thranduil paused, as though testing the air with some unseen sense. "You are right though I too cannot place what this feeling means."
After a moment's thought, it hit Elrond clearly. "The children."
Thranduil sat on the edge of his seat, alarmed.
"Arwen?" Elrond turned sharply to his daughter.
Arwen lowered her tapestry. "They asked if they could go riding this morning. I said no further than the Ford at most. I imagine they went for a swim…"
Elrond and Thranduil exchanged glances.
"Celedor was eager to explore the lands beyond the Ford," Elrond stated.
"Legolas would have volunteered to show him," Thranduil added.
"Celebriel and Anórwen would have followed their brother."
"And Lorolas and Rínaborn theirs."
"And Ophianna too." Glorfindel agreed, having listened quietly until then.
Within a second, the three fathers were out the door and heading for the stables.
"Father!" Arwen called, racing to catch up.
"Find Elladan and Elrohir- explain what's happened and send them after us; but do not come with us! Elrond instructed firmly.
Arwen nodded her acquiescence and dashed off in another direction.
Their masked captos had obviously been well-trained in kidnapping- something particularly strange so close to Rivendell. Bandits simply did not come near the Elven estate.
After leaving their horses on the Rivendell-side of the Ford and swimming across, Legolas had guided them up the Road.
Anórwen found it rather embarrassing that an Elf from somewhere as far as Mirkwood knew the area better than they who lived so close!
Eventually they came upon two masked men standing, waiting on the road. One thing had led to another, and the seven children had found themselves surrounded by more of these masked men.
They were outnumbered seven to a double dozen, but the nine year-old Elves refused to go down without a fight.
That foolish notion resulted in a series of injuries on both sides, but the Elven children were no closer to escaping.
Celedor, Legolas and Rínaborn were the first to be bound hand and feet, then gagged while the girls were held at sword point.
Anórwen watched disheartenedly as the blood trickled down Legolas' face from the cut on his forehead. The sleeve of Celedor's tunic was stained with his ruby Elven blood where his broken bone had emerged during that desperate fight.
The captors then turned their attention to the girls. Only Celedriel was bound without resistance.
Anórwen fought the bonds so strongly that one of the leaders held her nose, tipping her head back and poured a vile of foul-tasting liquid down her throat when she opened her mouth to breath, then gagged her.
Not long after, they heard the sound of horses racing hard towards them. The sight of Elrond, Thranduil and Glorfindel created a sudden panic among the masked captors.
The four leaders of the bandits picked up the struggling young female Elves and headed off into the surrounding woods at a fast pace.
Anórwen heard Celedor's muffled cries of pain as he and the other boys were carried also.
"Ditch the boys! Run!" the kidnapper holding Lorolas ordered. It was the first they had heard their captors speak whatsoever. "These four will be prize enough!"
Anórwen squirmed in her captor's arms, trying to see over his shoulder.
Elrond and Glorfindel still pursuedl Thranduil had been left behind to ten to the boys.
At that moment, the kidnappers split up taking the four daughters I n different directions.
Making a split-second decision, Glorfindel went after Ophianna and Elrond chased down Celebriel.
Hold on, Elrond thought of Anórwen. I promise they will not have you.
After a while the only sound Anórwen could hear was the quiet breathing of the kidnapper as he ran soundlessly along, carrying his charge.
"Papa!" Anórwen cried but the sound was muffled by the material stuffed in her mouth.
The masked man never slowed, but continued in his silent run.
She didn't know how long it was, but suddenly she was rolling on the ground after falling from her captor's arms.
Elrohir. Already her elder brother was attacking the masked man, who had quickly recovered and had drawn his iron sword with a speed only matched by the Elven lords.
It occurred to Anórwen that she should attempt to away as best she could what with her arms and legs bound, but something made her sluggish and she could only weakly struggle against her bonds as she lay helplessly.
She gave up, praying to Eru that Elrohir would win; as it seemed the duel was evenly matched.
This man clearly had a greater fighting experience than her brother, though it seemed impossible to Anórwen as her brother had been learning the skills since he was a child himself! That should have given Elrohir an advantage of several hundred years more practise, expertise and experience than this man no matter how old or strong.
But as Elrohir yielded to the man's sword in his left shoulder, Anórwen was close to utter despair.
The man hit her brother hard over the back of the head with his dagger hilt before turning back to her.
"You, my pretty little Elfling…you're coming with me." He remarked, picking her up again. "And I won't make that mistake again."
But he had reckoned without knowing the love of Elrond for his daughter, and the fury of the Master of Rivendell.