Boy, a lot of Elrohir lovers out there, I love him too, that's why I pick
on him. But just to let you all know, things will get worse before they get
better.
Kia-
Keep that first aid pack, it might come in handy for poor little Ro
Firnsarien-
Elrond is doing his best, after all, trying to track an Elfling in a blizzard is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. What more could befall him. . .a lot actually, but you will see exactly what. Hmm. . . I'm a fast writer, but not that fast. Hope this was satisfactory for you.
CrimsoElf-
Love the name. Well, you will find out what happens. This chapter is a bit happier, but don't expect to much, remember, this is me.
Stardust-
If I rescue him too soon there wouldn't been any story! But you are right, poor little Ro has certainly found himself in a mess. But don't worry, he will get rescued eventually.
I'm not sure if he will notice it or not, you will find out soon though, hurry! Go read and see if it worked!
Jay of Lasgalen-
Hehe, I read part of your story, and you're just as bad as I am. I have to read from start to finish though, I read the last two chapters. Poor Ro! I love to torture him because he's my favorite twin!
Anita-
Haha! Elrohir vrs the Car. . . GO ELROHIR, he would win, I think, if he ducked that is. . . Netherlands. . . that would be Holland correct? If so I don't think they would have to worry about to many cars, bikes maybe, but Holland is flat, and a lot of people us bikes, at least that is what I've heard.
Goblz-
You know, you are about the third person to mention something about the last cliffie being evil. But I wonder what you will think about this one.
Elladan-
*Blinks* I'm Evil? Look what you have done to poor Estel! At least I don't have evil fruit. Hope that dictionary is working for you!
the_ringspell-
Certain death. . . well then I can't update, can I? Hehe, I love the little author's insurance. It's like an extra life card that never expires. . .
Chapter 6
Elrohir woke slowly, as if from a dream. Everything was white, and cold, and he realized vaguely he was covered in snow. His entire body ached as he sat up slowly, brushing the snow from his hair and face, as he glanced around at his surroundings.
Warm morning sunlight shone on his face, the first time he had felt warmth within the last day. His eyes scanned the cliff above as he remembered the fall he had taken. The snow along the cliff side was scattered where he had rolled, rather than fell, down the cliff side. Normally such an incident as this would kill someone, but the snow had covered the thick layer of rocks at the bottom, cushioning his fall so that it was only painful, and not deadly. The jolt was enough to knock him out completely.
He realized then that his leg now ached, throbbing in the snow. Pushing aside the powdery substance he pulled up his legging, revealing his swollen limb and ankle. It looked broken, but Elrohir could not tell for sure, he was no healer.
Shivering Elrohir slid his hands inside his damp pockets, taking any comfort he could get. But his thoughts were redirected when his tiny hand closed around a few odd shaped items. Pulling them from his pocket he smiled at his findings. Three broken crackers, from breakfast yesterday morning. He had forgotten that he had stuck them in his pocket for later. He was glad for it now.
He ate them quickly, not caring that they were moist and nearly flavorless, and was disappointed as he licked the rest of the crumbs from his fingers, wishing that he had taken more. He turned his face back toward the sun, removing his cap so its rays could warm the top of his head.
For a long while he sat there, letting the rays warm his frozen body, but finally he forced himself to his feet, finding that walking now was even more painful. He limped oddly away from the cliff, thanking Elbereth that he had survived the fall. With each step he was becoming more and more convinced that his leg was indeed broken.
Elrohir leaned weakly against a tree, pulling his cap back as the sun disappeared behind clouds. As the last rays disappeared, Elrohir began to sing. It was song his mother sung to he and his brother before they fell asleep.
"Ai! Laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron! Yéni ve linte yuldar avánier mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar nu luini yassen tintilar I eleni ómaryo airetári-lírinen."
His voice drifted away after only the first verse, he did not know the rest of the song. His eyes drifted downward, and for a while he just stared at the ground, thinking about his family and his home. The sound of light footsteps caused him to look up, hope in his eyes.
But the hope quickly faded as he saw it was only a deer. The doe's ears perked up when she saw him watching, and she became still as she tried to determine whether or not the young Elfling was a threat. After a few moments she decided he meant no harm, and moved further out into the clearing. It was than Elrohir saw the young fawn that followed behind her.
The young elf smiled as he watched the fawn follow his mothers every move. It was not often that he saw a fawn, and extremely rare to see one so close. With careful slow movements, Elrohir limped toward them. The mother raised her eyes, watching him approach, her nose hanging slightly over the ground as she breathed in the fresh scent of snow.
Elrohir's leg twisted under him, dropping the elf to the ground. He steeled his jaw shut, forcing the scream in his throat to disappear. He did not want to frighten the deer. Once the sharp flare of pain had subsided into a dull ache, Elrohir continued forward, crawling now on his hands and knees, finding it less painful.
The doe still had not moved, watching the elf move slowly toward her and her child. Uncertain of his goal she moved forward a step, stretching her neck to sniff the small form. Elrohir remained still as the wet nose pressed lightly against his face, trailing over his hair and wounded cheek.
Suddenly the fawn dashed forward, desperate to follow its mother's moves. Elrohir giggled as the fawn nudged him in the back. His hand drifted upward to stroke the animal's fur. It felt so warm against his frozen skin.
Satisfied the elf meant no harm the doe turned back to the snow, nudging it away until she reached the grass at the bottom. The fawn followed her movements, but wasn't able to clear the snow as easy. Forcing his cold fingers back into the snow, Elrohir cleared it away until the short grass was revealed.
Elrohir watched the fawn eat the grass almost in envy. He was so hungry and it was unfair that they got to eat when he was starving so much. Letting out a sigh Elrohir lay in the snow, watching the deer eat. They wandered over the snow, each time Elrohir followed behind, seeking their company. It was rare when he was alone, and his solitude was now beginning to catch up to him.
After the deer had fed they left the clearing, and despite the Elflings efforts to keep up with the two, he soon lost them. Following the tracks proved to only lead him in circles, and he let out a scowl as he finally gave up. Sinking into the snow he rubbed his swollen leg, wishing that he were at home now.
He watched as the sun began to fall from the sky, only a few hours of daylight now remained, and he realized vaguely that he had spent most of the day following the deer around instead of trying to find home. He cursed at himself lightly, then quickly snapped his mouth shut remembering suddenly that he wasn't supposed to even know that word, never the less say it. The last time had said that word resulted in a long and most unpleasant lecture, first from his father then from his mother. Then Glorfindel the next day.
It really wasn't his fault, Elladan had taught him the foul word, his elder brother was just smart enough not to say it around family or friends. He on the other hand had let his anger overtake him long enough to utter it. Elrohir let out a sigh, he didn't care if the longest lecture in Middle Earth awaited him when he got back, he just wanted to go home.
*~*~*~*
Elrond was able to see the tracks easily; the crimson drops of blood a stark opposition from the whiteness of the snow. Wolf tracks littered that area of snow, and the Elf Lord's eyes followed the tracks down the small ravine to where the ice had broken through.
Elrohir's red scarf lay at the base, half hanging the swift current of the river. Moving carefully, Elrond easily retrieved the saturated piece of cloth, running his fingers over it. He was thankful that the bloody tracks led away from the river and not towards it. Elrohir was wounded, but alive.
Further up in the snow he dug out his youngest son's shoe, torn and tattered, stained with blood. He let out a sigh as folded both of his findings, sticking them in his pocket. He would not rest until his son was found. And he prayed that would be soon. He doubted the young Elfling could survive another night, if he had even survived this one.
"No," he told himself softly, "Elrohir is alive."
Standing up in a swift motion he continued to follow the bloody tracks. The storm had died during the early hours of morning, and Elrond had wasted no time in waiting. Elladan had pleaded with him to come along, but the Elven Lord had refused him.
Elladan had begun to cry then, and with a sigh Elrond knelt down, taking his eldest son into his arms. He held him into the young Elfling's cries ceased, then in a calm voice talked to him.
"Elladan, tis for your own safety. I know you wish to help, and you will by staying here, and keeping an eye on your mother, and giving your help to Glorfindel when he asks of it. I will return shortly, with Elrohir, do not worry."
Now thinking back to what he said he realized that he had left his son behind for more reasons than he spoke of. He could travel swifter, and track easier alone than trying to keep an eye on his eldest son. And if, if things came to worse, and he found his worst fear to be true, he did not wish for Elladan to see it as well.
He was so young, and oblivious to the misfortunes of the world. He prayed that his eldest son would not learn of them this quickly in his immortal life.
"Let him live," he prayed silently as he walked beneath the leafless trees of winter.
*~*~*~*
Elrohir smiled inwardly as the frozen lake stretched before him. He knew where he was. His mother and father had taken he and his brother here often in the summer for picnics and swims. It was an odd shape, almost an oval, except for the curve that followed the bend in the forest near the east.
Near the far end of the lake an assortment of large boulders stuck out of the ice. Elladan would always climb to the top when their parents weren't watching, Elrohir never had. He enjoyed instead searching for the clear white pebbles at the bottom, a rare find. They always pretended that it was long lost treasure, and the one to find the most was the king.
Most of the lake was shallow, except for the area where the trees over hung. A large branch extend a fair amount over the water, and his father had tied a rope to it, creating a perfect swing. He and his brother weren't allowed on it alone, not yet at least.
Further up the tree was a hole in one of its branches, creating a perfect hold for an assortment of small treasures, and with a start, Elrohir remembered an odd finding one summer. He and Elladan had been playing near the boulders. While his brother was climbing, Elrohir dove under the surface, resting on the warm sand as he watched Elladan from below.
His hand came to rest on an odd form. Closing his fingers around the cylinder like shape he made his way to the surface, letting his newfound treasure glitter in the sun. Excitedly he dashed from the water to his parents, dropping it into their hands.
"Why Elrohir, it's a whistle," his mother told him, bringing him into a hug. And indeed it was, made from find dark wood it was carved with precise decorations. After cleaning it he tried to play it, but soon lost interest and carried it around with him instead. To make sure he didn't loose it, his father had tied it to a string, so he could wear it around his neck.
Elladan had become jealous, and so Elrohir had hid it far inside the branch, a place he hoped his brother would never look, and claimed to have lost it, not wanting a feud with his brother. And in time he had forgotten it even remained there.
Limping over to the tree Elrohir gripped the lowest branch tightly in his hands, and swung himself up. He grimaced as pain jolted through his leg as he landed on top of branch. After the pain subsided he continued to make his journey upward.
The hole was nearly at the top, and when he reached the branch where it was located, he hesitated for a moment, wanting to turn back. Normally this climb was not difficult, but with his injuries and his weariness he was uncertain of his strength and balance. But after a moment he proceeded with caution.
The branch was old, and was beginning to wear from the seasons it had endured. It bent even under the light weight of the Elfling as he slowly crawled across the rugged surface of its texture. Within minutes Elrohir had reached the hole, and with a single frozen hand, groped around inside, reaching back to where he had placed it, hidden inside a handful of old dry grass.
Finding it he pulled it out swiftly in glee, but the moment threw the whistle out of his grasp, the string catching a smaller broken limb further out. Letting the grass fall from his hand, Elrohir scooted nearer to the whistle that was swinging lightly in the wind.
It was just out of reach, and Elrohir scooted forward an inch more, stretching out even further. With a last desperate attempt he thrust his arm out, his fingers closing around the string of the whistle. But at the same moment he lost his balance, falling from the branch he sat on with a cry. By instinct alone he was able to catch the branch with his arm before he fell, hanging above the frozen lake.
He swung lightly, griping the branch tighter as he slowed his hurried breathing. He twisted his neck to look below him, sniffling softly at the sight before him. The ground was a long ways down, and there was no telling how thick the ice was.
If it was thick then a drop from this height would break his injured leg for sure, if it weren't broken already, and it would do the same to his other legs. However if the ice was thin, it would drop him into the freezing waters below, and more in likely lead him to death.
His grip tightened as he began to cry softly, he did not want to fall. He tried to pull himself up, but his movement caused the branch to crack sharply at the base. His weight was now bending the branch at an odd angle, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it broke completely.
Once again he tried to pull himself up, attempting to swing his leg over the branch. He was successful on his second attempt, trying desperately to ignore the steady increase of the odd crackling sound that came from the base of the branch. Lifting himself proved to be fatal as the branch finally gave way, bending down at a steep angle, nearly throwing the Elfling off.
Elrohir cried out as the rough bark scraped the palms of his hands raw, tearing through the skin on his fingers. His shoulders jarred painfully as they caught the weight of his body. He watched the whistle drop free of its perch, landing with a soft clink as it settled on the ice far below. Elrohir held tightly onto his only source of hope, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he slowly began to pull himself up, but the branch could no longer support his weight. Breaking free of the tree with a final groan, it carried the Elf down with it, to its watery grave.
TBC. . .
Kia-
Keep that first aid pack, it might come in handy for poor little Ro
Firnsarien-
Elrond is doing his best, after all, trying to track an Elfling in a blizzard is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. What more could befall him. . .a lot actually, but you will see exactly what. Hmm. . . I'm a fast writer, but not that fast. Hope this was satisfactory for you.
CrimsoElf-
Love the name. Well, you will find out what happens. This chapter is a bit happier, but don't expect to much, remember, this is me.
Stardust-
If I rescue him too soon there wouldn't been any story! But you are right, poor little Ro has certainly found himself in a mess. But don't worry, he will get rescued eventually.
I'm not sure if he will notice it or not, you will find out soon though, hurry! Go read and see if it worked!
Jay of Lasgalen-
Hehe, I read part of your story, and you're just as bad as I am. I have to read from start to finish though, I read the last two chapters. Poor Ro! I love to torture him because he's my favorite twin!
Anita-
Haha! Elrohir vrs the Car. . . GO ELROHIR, he would win, I think, if he ducked that is. . . Netherlands. . . that would be Holland correct? If so I don't think they would have to worry about to many cars, bikes maybe, but Holland is flat, and a lot of people us bikes, at least that is what I've heard.
Goblz-
You know, you are about the third person to mention something about the last cliffie being evil. But I wonder what you will think about this one.
Elladan-
*Blinks* I'm Evil? Look what you have done to poor Estel! At least I don't have evil fruit. Hope that dictionary is working for you!
the_ringspell-
Certain death. . . well then I can't update, can I? Hehe, I love the little author's insurance. It's like an extra life card that never expires. . .
Chapter 6
Elrohir woke slowly, as if from a dream. Everything was white, and cold, and he realized vaguely he was covered in snow. His entire body ached as he sat up slowly, brushing the snow from his hair and face, as he glanced around at his surroundings.
Warm morning sunlight shone on his face, the first time he had felt warmth within the last day. His eyes scanned the cliff above as he remembered the fall he had taken. The snow along the cliff side was scattered where he had rolled, rather than fell, down the cliff side. Normally such an incident as this would kill someone, but the snow had covered the thick layer of rocks at the bottom, cushioning his fall so that it was only painful, and not deadly. The jolt was enough to knock him out completely.
He realized then that his leg now ached, throbbing in the snow. Pushing aside the powdery substance he pulled up his legging, revealing his swollen limb and ankle. It looked broken, but Elrohir could not tell for sure, he was no healer.
Shivering Elrohir slid his hands inside his damp pockets, taking any comfort he could get. But his thoughts were redirected when his tiny hand closed around a few odd shaped items. Pulling them from his pocket he smiled at his findings. Three broken crackers, from breakfast yesterday morning. He had forgotten that he had stuck them in his pocket for later. He was glad for it now.
He ate them quickly, not caring that they were moist and nearly flavorless, and was disappointed as he licked the rest of the crumbs from his fingers, wishing that he had taken more. He turned his face back toward the sun, removing his cap so its rays could warm the top of his head.
For a long while he sat there, letting the rays warm his frozen body, but finally he forced himself to his feet, finding that walking now was even more painful. He limped oddly away from the cliff, thanking Elbereth that he had survived the fall. With each step he was becoming more and more convinced that his leg was indeed broken.
Elrohir leaned weakly against a tree, pulling his cap back as the sun disappeared behind clouds. As the last rays disappeared, Elrohir began to sing. It was song his mother sung to he and his brother before they fell asleep.
"Ai! Laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron! Yéni ve linte yuldar avánier mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar nu luini yassen tintilar I eleni ómaryo airetári-lírinen."
His voice drifted away after only the first verse, he did not know the rest of the song. His eyes drifted downward, and for a while he just stared at the ground, thinking about his family and his home. The sound of light footsteps caused him to look up, hope in his eyes.
But the hope quickly faded as he saw it was only a deer. The doe's ears perked up when she saw him watching, and she became still as she tried to determine whether or not the young Elfling was a threat. After a few moments she decided he meant no harm, and moved further out into the clearing. It was than Elrohir saw the young fawn that followed behind her.
The young elf smiled as he watched the fawn follow his mothers every move. It was not often that he saw a fawn, and extremely rare to see one so close. With careful slow movements, Elrohir limped toward them. The mother raised her eyes, watching him approach, her nose hanging slightly over the ground as she breathed in the fresh scent of snow.
Elrohir's leg twisted under him, dropping the elf to the ground. He steeled his jaw shut, forcing the scream in his throat to disappear. He did not want to frighten the deer. Once the sharp flare of pain had subsided into a dull ache, Elrohir continued forward, crawling now on his hands and knees, finding it less painful.
The doe still had not moved, watching the elf move slowly toward her and her child. Uncertain of his goal she moved forward a step, stretching her neck to sniff the small form. Elrohir remained still as the wet nose pressed lightly against his face, trailing over his hair and wounded cheek.
Suddenly the fawn dashed forward, desperate to follow its mother's moves. Elrohir giggled as the fawn nudged him in the back. His hand drifted upward to stroke the animal's fur. It felt so warm against his frozen skin.
Satisfied the elf meant no harm the doe turned back to the snow, nudging it away until she reached the grass at the bottom. The fawn followed her movements, but wasn't able to clear the snow as easy. Forcing his cold fingers back into the snow, Elrohir cleared it away until the short grass was revealed.
Elrohir watched the fawn eat the grass almost in envy. He was so hungry and it was unfair that they got to eat when he was starving so much. Letting out a sigh Elrohir lay in the snow, watching the deer eat. They wandered over the snow, each time Elrohir followed behind, seeking their company. It was rare when he was alone, and his solitude was now beginning to catch up to him.
After the deer had fed they left the clearing, and despite the Elflings efforts to keep up with the two, he soon lost them. Following the tracks proved to only lead him in circles, and he let out a scowl as he finally gave up. Sinking into the snow he rubbed his swollen leg, wishing that he were at home now.
He watched as the sun began to fall from the sky, only a few hours of daylight now remained, and he realized vaguely that he had spent most of the day following the deer around instead of trying to find home. He cursed at himself lightly, then quickly snapped his mouth shut remembering suddenly that he wasn't supposed to even know that word, never the less say it. The last time had said that word resulted in a long and most unpleasant lecture, first from his father then from his mother. Then Glorfindel the next day.
It really wasn't his fault, Elladan had taught him the foul word, his elder brother was just smart enough not to say it around family or friends. He on the other hand had let his anger overtake him long enough to utter it. Elrohir let out a sigh, he didn't care if the longest lecture in Middle Earth awaited him when he got back, he just wanted to go home.
*~*~*~*
Elrond was able to see the tracks easily; the crimson drops of blood a stark opposition from the whiteness of the snow. Wolf tracks littered that area of snow, and the Elf Lord's eyes followed the tracks down the small ravine to where the ice had broken through.
Elrohir's red scarf lay at the base, half hanging the swift current of the river. Moving carefully, Elrond easily retrieved the saturated piece of cloth, running his fingers over it. He was thankful that the bloody tracks led away from the river and not towards it. Elrohir was wounded, but alive.
Further up in the snow he dug out his youngest son's shoe, torn and tattered, stained with blood. He let out a sigh as folded both of his findings, sticking them in his pocket. He would not rest until his son was found. And he prayed that would be soon. He doubted the young Elfling could survive another night, if he had even survived this one.
"No," he told himself softly, "Elrohir is alive."
Standing up in a swift motion he continued to follow the bloody tracks. The storm had died during the early hours of morning, and Elrond had wasted no time in waiting. Elladan had pleaded with him to come along, but the Elven Lord had refused him.
Elladan had begun to cry then, and with a sigh Elrond knelt down, taking his eldest son into his arms. He held him into the young Elfling's cries ceased, then in a calm voice talked to him.
"Elladan, tis for your own safety. I know you wish to help, and you will by staying here, and keeping an eye on your mother, and giving your help to Glorfindel when he asks of it. I will return shortly, with Elrohir, do not worry."
Now thinking back to what he said he realized that he had left his son behind for more reasons than he spoke of. He could travel swifter, and track easier alone than trying to keep an eye on his eldest son. And if, if things came to worse, and he found his worst fear to be true, he did not wish for Elladan to see it as well.
He was so young, and oblivious to the misfortunes of the world. He prayed that his eldest son would not learn of them this quickly in his immortal life.
"Let him live," he prayed silently as he walked beneath the leafless trees of winter.
*~*~*~*
Elrohir smiled inwardly as the frozen lake stretched before him. He knew where he was. His mother and father had taken he and his brother here often in the summer for picnics and swims. It was an odd shape, almost an oval, except for the curve that followed the bend in the forest near the east.
Near the far end of the lake an assortment of large boulders stuck out of the ice. Elladan would always climb to the top when their parents weren't watching, Elrohir never had. He enjoyed instead searching for the clear white pebbles at the bottom, a rare find. They always pretended that it was long lost treasure, and the one to find the most was the king.
Most of the lake was shallow, except for the area where the trees over hung. A large branch extend a fair amount over the water, and his father had tied a rope to it, creating a perfect swing. He and his brother weren't allowed on it alone, not yet at least.
Further up the tree was a hole in one of its branches, creating a perfect hold for an assortment of small treasures, and with a start, Elrohir remembered an odd finding one summer. He and Elladan had been playing near the boulders. While his brother was climbing, Elrohir dove under the surface, resting on the warm sand as he watched Elladan from below.
His hand came to rest on an odd form. Closing his fingers around the cylinder like shape he made his way to the surface, letting his newfound treasure glitter in the sun. Excitedly he dashed from the water to his parents, dropping it into their hands.
"Why Elrohir, it's a whistle," his mother told him, bringing him into a hug. And indeed it was, made from find dark wood it was carved with precise decorations. After cleaning it he tried to play it, but soon lost interest and carried it around with him instead. To make sure he didn't loose it, his father had tied it to a string, so he could wear it around his neck.
Elladan had become jealous, and so Elrohir had hid it far inside the branch, a place he hoped his brother would never look, and claimed to have lost it, not wanting a feud with his brother. And in time he had forgotten it even remained there.
Limping over to the tree Elrohir gripped the lowest branch tightly in his hands, and swung himself up. He grimaced as pain jolted through his leg as he landed on top of branch. After the pain subsided he continued to make his journey upward.
The hole was nearly at the top, and when he reached the branch where it was located, he hesitated for a moment, wanting to turn back. Normally this climb was not difficult, but with his injuries and his weariness he was uncertain of his strength and balance. But after a moment he proceeded with caution.
The branch was old, and was beginning to wear from the seasons it had endured. It bent even under the light weight of the Elfling as he slowly crawled across the rugged surface of its texture. Within minutes Elrohir had reached the hole, and with a single frozen hand, groped around inside, reaching back to where he had placed it, hidden inside a handful of old dry grass.
Finding it he pulled it out swiftly in glee, but the moment threw the whistle out of his grasp, the string catching a smaller broken limb further out. Letting the grass fall from his hand, Elrohir scooted nearer to the whistle that was swinging lightly in the wind.
It was just out of reach, and Elrohir scooted forward an inch more, stretching out even further. With a last desperate attempt he thrust his arm out, his fingers closing around the string of the whistle. But at the same moment he lost his balance, falling from the branch he sat on with a cry. By instinct alone he was able to catch the branch with his arm before he fell, hanging above the frozen lake.
He swung lightly, griping the branch tighter as he slowed his hurried breathing. He twisted his neck to look below him, sniffling softly at the sight before him. The ground was a long ways down, and there was no telling how thick the ice was.
If it was thick then a drop from this height would break his injured leg for sure, if it weren't broken already, and it would do the same to his other legs. However if the ice was thin, it would drop him into the freezing waters below, and more in likely lead him to death.
His grip tightened as he began to cry softly, he did not want to fall. He tried to pull himself up, but his movement caused the branch to crack sharply at the base. His weight was now bending the branch at an odd angle, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it broke completely.
Once again he tried to pull himself up, attempting to swing his leg over the branch. He was successful on his second attempt, trying desperately to ignore the steady increase of the odd crackling sound that came from the base of the branch. Lifting himself proved to be fatal as the branch finally gave way, bending down at a steep angle, nearly throwing the Elfling off.
Elrohir cried out as the rough bark scraped the palms of his hands raw, tearing through the skin on his fingers. His shoulders jarred painfully as they caught the weight of his body. He watched the whistle drop free of its perch, landing with a soft clink as it settled on the ice far below. Elrohir held tightly onto his only source of hope, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he slowly began to pull himself up, but the branch could no longer support his weight. Breaking free of the tree with a final groan, it carried the Elf down with it, to its watery grave.
TBC. . .
