Blood of Innocents

By Glorfindel's Girl

Day Four: Eluréd and Elurín

         The wind was sharp against Eluréd's face, but beneath the cloaks, his body was warm.  He closed his eyes tightly, fighting off the morning light as he reached out for his younger brother.  His hands touched only cool stone.  Eluréd opened an eye, and glanced around.  His brother was gone.

         Then he heard the splash, and a short yell.  With a surge of panic, Eluréd threw the cloaks off, and leapt off the rock.  "No!!" he screamed, turning and frantically searching the surface of the swiftly moving brook.  "Elurín?!  Elurín where are you?!!"

         "Eluréd, help!"

         There!  He saw his brother, clinging desperately to a fallen log, the swift current threatening to sweep him away.

         "Hold on!" he cried, running downstream towards him.  There was no way he could walk out on the log to get to his brother.  It was too old, too weak.  It would break through with his weight.  Without a second though, Eluréd dove into the brook.

         The cold water hit him like a slap in the face.  It took his breath away, and for a moment he could think of nothing else.  Elurín.  He had to get to Elurín.  Fighting the current, he swam towards his brother.  "Take my hand!" he cried, reaching out to him.  Elurín released his grasp on the log, and grabbed for his brother's hand.  Their fingers met, and Eluréd grabbed his younger sibling's hand tightly.  Somehow, he managed to pull him back to shore, and onto the bank. 

         Elurín clung to him, shivering violently, tears running down his cheeks.  "Why, Elurín, why?" was all Eluréd could manage.  The younger boy began to sob.  Eluréd wrapped his brother in his arms, their wet clothes sticking to their skin.

         "How could you fall in?" he asked, stroking Elurín's soaking hair, shuddering as the cold winter air danced mercilessly across their wet skin.

         "I…I needed a…a drink," Elurín managed, still shivering, "But I lost my…my balance and…and fell in."

         "Come on," Eluréd said, standing and pulling his brother up after him.  "You've got to get out of these clothes.  Got to get warm."  Elurín was a dead weight against his arms as he half-dragged, half-carried him back towards their encampment.

         "You've got to help me, Elurín.  I cannot carry you," Eluréd said, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice.  But the struggle in the river seemed to have used up the last of his brother's reserves, and he was unable even to support his own weight.  Somehow, Eluréd managed to bring Elurín back to their encampment.  Gently he stripped his brother of his soaking clothes and wrapped him in their cloaks. 

         "Lie here in the sun, Elurín," Eluréd said, helping his brother to lie down on the sunlit rock where they had slept the night before. 

         "So cold," the younger one murmured.

         "I know, I know," Eluréd replied, shuddering as a sudden gust of icy wind whipped around his body, cutting through his soaking clothes.  He could not help but wonder when he would have the chance to dry his own clothing.  But no.  Elurín's hurts were far worse than his own.  He had to get him warm.  Worry about the rest later.  He laid Elurín's clothes out to dry in the sun.

Elurín closed his eyes, burrowing deeper beneath the cloaks.  Eluréd sat beside him, keeping watch, stroking his brother's hair gently, and praying that he would be all right.  Slowly, the younger one's breathing steadied, became more measured, less sporadic, and Eluréd knew that though his brother still shivered with cold, he slept.  The sun rose higher, the air grew colder, and Eluréd kept his silent vigil.