Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
Author's Note: The events in this chapter. . .I don't know how they came to be. It just sort of happened. On Tuesday I'm leaving for a vacation for a week, so I will try to post at least one more chapter before then.
Arayelle Lynn: Foul beast! Just kidding. All right, I can wait until the end for feedback. *waits. . .twiddles thumbs. . .whistles. . .*
Gwyn: Having stories move fast is one of my worst habits. If you could help me correct that, or point me in the right direction, I really would appreciate it.
Maranwe: I should hope that nothing is a given in my story. It makes it so much more exciting. Like I said, when I write before school the chapters tend to be a little shorter. This one's longer, though!
Littlesaiyangirl: I can honestly say that I do not know, but am sure that your vivid imagination can conjure up some image.
Leggylover03: Elrond. . .will be one pissed off Elf-lord, if he ever finds out about the treatment of his sons. Will he find out? Read and learn, mwu haha!
Thanks everyone I love hearing from you!
****
Elladan's words haunted Estel, but he did not ask about them. He was too busy thinking, trying to find a solution. How were they going to get out of this situation? It did not seem an easy task. All the Elves from Imladris, plus Estel, had their hands bound and tied to the sides of an open wagon. On the brighter side, they were sitting inside the wagon and did not need to walk to keep up, as this would have been extremely awkward. Estel could hardly believe that there were only six of them left. His heart sank. It was his fault, wasn't it? After all, he had assumed command. He should have insisted that Legolas lead them, he should have insisted--
The boy was jostled out of his thoughts as the wagon came to sudden halt. There was silence for what seemed to be an eternity, and then the sound of hundreds of bowstrings twanging as a volley of arrows was fired upon the Elves. There were shouts from all directions and even the barks of dogs, and everything was a flurry of activity. "Are you just going to leave us here, tied up like this?" Elemmiire shouted. No one answered, but the reply was clear. Yes, they would be left tied to the wagon, sitting ducks. They were as good as dead.
Just as Estel could feel himself begin to cry, thinking of his Ada and his brothers and Sierra, and every one he would not see again whom he had ever felt akin to, when the doors of the city of Men creaked open, and their pathetic army poured onto the field. "We are done for now," Estel moaned, but Elladan's eyes shone as he looked upon the new arrivals.
"I do not think so, Estel," Elladan replied. "It is not your time, not yet, little brother. Don't you dare lose hope, you hear?" And with that he opened his eyes and gazed outward, as a Man swung his blade down in a dangerous arc towards Elladan. Before his stroke came near to falling there was a thump, and he stopped. He fell forward, a gash in the back of his head as deep as Estel's hand was long. Behind him Estel saw the guard who had earlier pushed him to the ground. The edan's mouth flopped open, but before he could say anything the guard had moved on, and Elladan was groaning.
"What is it, what's wrong?" Estel asked, turning worriedly to his brother.
"Nothing," Elladan replied. He was trying to pull the ropes apart; they had been damaged when the dead Man fell. Estel's eyes widened. Elladan was bleeding from a gash in the wrist.
"You are bleeding!"
"It is nothing," Elladan repeated, trying hard to break the ropes. Estel did not distract his brother's attention any more, and was looking for some break in his own bindings when he felt something wet on the outer side of his thigh. Turning, he saw the dead Man's hand at an odd angle; his knife had punctured Estel's flesh. Taking advantage, with a few awkward movements Estel negotiated the knife and worked himself free. He clamped his hands over the dead Man's and pulled the knife free.
"Elladan, here!" With swift movements Estel freed his eldest brother, then clasped the knife in Elladan's hands. "Free the others, then head for the forest. You should be safest there. Go!"
"What about you?" Elladan asked.
"I will meet you in the forest," Estel replied, and at once was gone. Elladan looked after his brother, but in the mayhem could not see him. Men and Elves were dying. The air was metallic with the smell of blood and thick with roars of battle. Estel was no where to be seen. "Good lad," Elladan muttered, before leaping from the wagon and racing round to the others.
Estel bent at the waist to keep from being seen, ducking behind wagons and trying as best he could not to be caught up in the battle. Suddenly all at once Estel was at the nose of the last wagon. He had a clear view of the gate, not yet closed, and if he peeked out he had a view of the surround area, where Men and Elves clashed blades. There were many bodies of dogs lying around and a few fighting, but Estel forced himself not to look. There could not possibly have been more than three hundreds of people on the field, he realized. How many would there be come morning?
There was no time to wonder; Estel needed to be somewhere. With a quick look either side of him he dashed forward, keeping his eyes on the target. The gate kept getting closer, it was not closing but remaining open just a crack, coming closer--"Retreating already, are we?" demanded a harsh voice, and Estel felt someone grip the neck of his tunic. He looked up to see the face of a dangerous-looking Man, with yellowing teeth, foul-smelling breath and the most frighteningly cold eyes Estel had ever seen. "Deserters are not looked kindly upon--"
Before Estel could reply another voice cut in, "I would not be doing that if I were you." Lysander cut the Man's throat with the same knife Elladan had used to free them all, and the Man was dead in an instant. For a moment Estel faltered, and he froze, and stood staring, the stench of death and blooding filling him and making him ill.
"Not now, come on!" Elrohir prodded, and Estel fled through the gate. Five Elves followed after him. He slipped into the shadows beneath a support beam, checking the darkened streets for any possible threat. For the first time that night, Estel's hand went to his belt, forgetting that his weapons were gone. He took a deep breath and said a prayer, then slipped into the lighter shadows where he could more easily drift along. Again, the five others tailed him. Estel paused and turned to them. "I told you go to the trees where you will be safe. We are unarmed save for one knife in a hostile city. You have chosen to follow me and I allow this, but say now that any he who wishes may turn back and retreat to the trees and be thought not as a deserter."
The only answer to this was a whisper from Lysander. "You are wasting time," he said. Estel grinned, and continued onwards.
As they passed along more and more streets they grew bolder, finally walking out in the open, not minding that they were in plain view of anyone looking. There was no one to look. Elemmiire even told a weak joke, and the company giggled. There was a general silence, and everyone whispered to break it without disturbing it. When a gust of wind rose, the sound of a creaking door startled them. They froze and looked, but no one came. Estel took a step forward. Elrohir stopped him and gave him an inquisitive look. "I have to know," he said simply. Only Lysander followed him.
"Hello?" asked Estel, pushing open the door a bit further. "Hello, is anybody here? We mean you no harm." He stepped into the house. It had a nice smell to it, something like apple pie baked by the most expert of bakers, the sort that knew just how much cinnamon to use and who left the skins on. But something foul lurked just beneath that, something extremely disgusting. Estel did not bother telling Lysander he could turn back. Lysander knew, and had chosen to continue onward. Turning to his left, Estel entered the kitchen. The first thing he saw proved that his sense of smell was quite accurate, for a pie sat on the stove. Then Estel heard a buzzing sound, and as if a part of him had already seen what would greet his eyes his heart pounded, and he turned--
"By the Valar," Lysander muttered, then he fell to his knees and was ill. Estel held back his friend's hair and rubbed his back, not taking his eyes off the woman and her two small children huddling together in the corner. She had dark hair and so did her elder daughter, a girl of about six years, but the younger daughter, who might have been around three, had soft, white- blond hair. The woman's throat had been slit open and the children had bled from the wrists before, as if they were taking too long, their throats had also been cut. Flies were landing on them. Their eyes were wide open, staring into the room. Estel felt surprisingly numb as he tended Lysander but when they straightened and actually saw the bodies, his chest heaved with every breath, sweat formed on his brow and the hair on his neck prickled. More scared than he had ever been before, Estel took his friend by the hand and slowly backed out of the room.
"What did you find?" Legolas asked.
"Nothing," Estel replied with a glance at Lysander. "It was empty."
*****
To be continued
Author's Note: The events in this chapter. . .I don't know how they came to be. It just sort of happened. On Tuesday I'm leaving for a vacation for a week, so I will try to post at least one more chapter before then.
Arayelle Lynn: Foul beast! Just kidding. All right, I can wait until the end for feedback. *waits. . .twiddles thumbs. . .whistles. . .*
Gwyn: Having stories move fast is one of my worst habits. If you could help me correct that, or point me in the right direction, I really would appreciate it.
Maranwe: I should hope that nothing is a given in my story. It makes it so much more exciting. Like I said, when I write before school the chapters tend to be a little shorter. This one's longer, though!
Littlesaiyangirl: I can honestly say that I do not know, but am sure that your vivid imagination can conjure up some image.
Leggylover03: Elrond. . .will be one pissed off Elf-lord, if he ever finds out about the treatment of his sons. Will he find out? Read and learn, mwu haha!
Thanks everyone I love hearing from you!
****
Elladan's words haunted Estel, but he did not ask about them. He was too busy thinking, trying to find a solution. How were they going to get out of this situation? It did not seem an easy task. All the Elves from Imladris, plus Estel, had their hands bound and tied to the sides of an open wagon. On the brighter side, they were sitting inside the wagon and did not need to walk to keep up, as this would have been extremely awkward. Estel could hardly believe that there were only six of them left. His heart sank. It was his fault, wasn't it? After all, he had assumed command. He should have insisted that Legolas lead them, he should have insisted--
The boy was jostled out of his thoughts as the wagon came to sudden halt. There was silence for what seemed to be an eternity, and then the sound of hundreds of bowstrings twanging as a volley of arrows was fired upon the Elves. There were shouts from all directions and even the barks of dogs, and everything was a flurry of activity. "Are you just going to leave us here, tied up like this?" Elemmiire shouted. No one answered, but the reply was clear. Yes, they would be left tied to the wagon, sitting ducks. They were as good as dead.
Just as Estel could feel himself begin to cry, thinking of his Ada and his brothers and Sierra, and every one he would not see again whom he had ever felt akin to, when the doors of the city of Men creaked open, and their pathetic army poured onto the field. "We are done for now," Estel moaned, but Elladan's eyes shone as he looked upon the new arrivals.
"I do not think so, Estel," Elladan replied. "It is not your time, not yet, little brother. Don't you dare lose hope, you hear?" And with that he opened his eyes and gazed outward, as a Man swung his blade down in a dangerous arc towards Elladan. Before his stroke came near to falling there was a thump, and he stopped. He fell forward, a gash in the back of his head as deep as Estel's hand was long. Behind him Estel saw the guard who had earlier pushed him to the ground. The edan's mouth flopped open, but before he could say anything the guard had moved on, and Elladan was groaning.
"What is it, what's wrong?" Estel asked, turning worriedly to his brother.
"Nothing," Elladan replied. He was trying to pull the ropes apart; they had been damaged when the dead Man fell. Estel's eyes widened. Elladan was bleeding from a gash in the wrist.
"You are bleeding!"
"It is nothing," Elladan repeated, trying hard to break the ropes. Estel did not distract his brother's attention any more, and was looking for some break in his own bindings when he felt something wet on the outer side of his thigh. Turning, he saw the dead Man's hand at an odd angle; his knife had punctured Estel's flesh. Taking advantage, with a few awkward movements Estel negotiated the knife and worked himself free. He clamped his hands over the dead Man's and pulled the knife free.
"Elladan, here!" With swift movements Estel freed his eldest brother, then clasped the knife in Elladan's hands. "Free the others, then head for the forest. You should be safest there. Go!"
"What about you?" Elladan asked.
"I will meet you in the forest," Estel replied, and at once was gone. Elladan looked after his brother, but in the mayhem could not see him. Men and Elves were dying. The air was metallic with the smell of blood and thick with roars of battle. Estel was no where to be seen. "Good lad," Elladan muttered, before leaping from the wagon and racing round to the others.
Estel bent at the waist to keep from being seen, ducking behind wagons and trying as best he could not to be caught up in the battle. Suddenly all at once Estel was at the nose of the last wagon. He had a clear view of the gate, not yet closed, and if he peeked out he had a view of the surround area, where Men and Elves clashed blades. There were many bodies of dogs lying around and a few fighting, but Estel forced himself not to look. There could not possibly have been more than three hundreds of people on the field, he realized. How many would there be come morning?
There was no time to wonder; Estel needed to be somewhere. With a quick look either side of him he dashed forward, keeping his eyes on the target. The gate kept getting closer, it was not closing but remaining open just a crack, coming closer--"Retreating already, are we?" demanded a harsh voice, and Estel felt someone grip the neck of his tunic. He looked up to see the face of a dangerous-looking Man, with yellowing teeth, foul-smelling breath and the most frighteningly cold eyes Estel had ever seen. "Deserters are not looked kindly upon--"
Before Estel could reply another voice cut in, "I would not be doing that if I were you." Lysander cut the Man's throat with the same knife Elladan had used to free them all, and the Man was dead in an instant. For a moment Estel faltered, and he froze, and stood staring, the stench of death and blooding filling him and making him ill.
"Not now, come on!" Elrohir prodded, and Estel fled through the gate. Five Elves followed after him. He slipped into the shadows beneath a support beam, checking the darkened streets for any possible threat. For the first time that night, Estel's hand went to his belt, forgetting that his weapons were gone. He took a deep breath and said a prayer, then slipped into the lighter shadows where he could more easily drift along. Again, the five others tailed him. Estel paused and turned to them. "I told you go to the trees where you will be safe. We are unarmed save for one knife in a hostile city. You have chosen to follow me and I allow this, but say now that any he who wishes may turn back and retreat to the trees and be thought not as a deserter."
The only answer to this was a whisper from Lysander. "You are wasting time," he said. Estel grinned, and continued onwards.
As they passed along more and more streets they grew bolder, finally walking out in the open, not minding that they were in plain view of anyone looking. There was no one to look. Elemmiire even told a weak joke, and the company giggled. There was a general silence, and everyone whispered to break it without disturbing it. When a gust of wind rose, the sound of a creaking door startled them. They froze and looked, but no one came. Estel took a step forward. Elrohir stopped him and gave him an inquisitive look. "I have to know," he said simply. Only Lysander followed him.
"Hello?" asked Estel, pushing open the door a bit further. "Hello, is anybody here? We mean you no harm." He stepped into the house. It had a nice smell to it, something like apple pie baked by the most expert of bakers, the sort that knew just how much cinnamon to use and who left the skins on. But something foul lurked just beneath that, something extremely disgusting. Estel did not bother telling Lysander he could turn back. Lysander knew, and had chosen to continue onward. Turning to his left, Estel entered the kitchen. The first thing he saw proved that his sense of smell was quite accurate, for a pie sat on the stove. Then Estel heard a buzzing sound, and as if a part of him had already seen what would greet his eyes his heart pounded, and he turned--
"By the Valar," Lysander muttered, then he fell to his knees and was ill. Estel held back his friend's hair and rubbed his back, not taking his eyes off the woman and her two small children huddling together in the corner. She had dark hair and so did her elder daughter, a girl of about six years, but the younger daughter, who might have been around three, had soft, white- blond hair. The woman's throat had been slit open and the children had bled from the wrists before, as if they were taking too long, their throats had also been cut. Flies were landing on them. Their eyes were wide open, staring into the room. Estel felt surprisingly numb as he tended Lysander but when they straightened and actually saw the bodies, his chest heaved with every breath, sweat formed on his brow and the hair on his neck prickled. More scared than he had ever been before, Estel took his friend by the hand and slowly backed out of the room.
"What did you find?" Legolas asked.
"Nothing," Estel replied with a glance at Lysander. "It was empty."
*****
To be continued
