Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
Author's Note: I looked and for the life of me could not find who leads the Dúnedain after Arathorn is slain. Halbarad seemed something of a leader in Return of the King, so the man who inherits the title of chieftain in this story is supposed to be Halbarad's grandfather. I'm sorry if this is wrong; corrections appreciated.
*****
"Elladan."
He sat far enough from the fire that only his silhouette was visible, a solid form outlined against the night's inky blackness. Stars glimmered overhead, and softened the blow of the darkness, though they offered from it no relief. Here any man was free to release, his vices and shames immersed and lost in the night's pitch. Here any killer might be forgiven, any trespasser forgiven. Here was solitude, here was bliss. Here innocence.
Elrohir sat beside his brother, though was more cautious, for while Elladan kept his bow beside him, one idle hand fingering the string, Elrohir laid his own bow over his lap, an arrow held loosely between his fingers. "What do you think of Arathorn's boy?" Elrohir asked, gazing as his brother did into the curtained labyrinth of the trees.
"Mentally retarded," Elladan answered with his characteristic bluntness. "I would think him lucky should his years number more than five ere he dies; Arathorn is right to have Gilraen again with child. Im ú-cheb estel an Aragorn." Elladan shook his head, then added, "Nor should you."
Elrohir chuckled, for he knew his brother well. "Are not you the sentimental one, Brother? Do not you often attempt to protect me?" In their youth, it had been Elrohir who delighted in study and Elladan in fighting, through fighting he came to learning and only through healing did he come to love things that live, yet he did so not with a student's curiosity, but with a fighter's zeal. His role as eldest, too, he had been taken seriously, though the words that had sparked this within him he had not shared, even with his brother, the other half of himself.
Suddenly Elladan's mood became solemn and alert: Elrohir could not see the change in his brother, but he could sense it. Pricking up his ears, Elrohir knew what his brother sensed and readied his arrow. "Yrch!" he cried, then, remembering his present company, "Orcs!"
The horses knew it next, and they whinnied and stomped their feet against the ground. "I would free them, but would not risk my own life on it," Elladan commented. The sound of snapping ropes was quick to follow: in their panic, the horses freed themselves. Their hoofbeats disappeared into the night, and the twins said a prayer for them: may they find freedom, and not at the hands of the Orcs.
The sounds of Men readying themselves, their weapons and their courage came almost at once. Cries rang out into the silent night, and Elrohir--as the twins moved into a more lighted space--gave his brother a look critical of the edain. Their cries were loud; had the enemy any confusion as to their location, it was now scattered.
"Form a perimeter around the camp!" Arathorn called, commanding his men in their confusion. "Every man with a blade!" He had prepared for this, it seemed, and not at all to the twins' surprise: they knew him as a wise man.
When the Orcs came, the twins spotted them first. Elladan shot at the trees when he heard a rustling noise, and it seemed luck had bent his bow, for he heard an Orc fall. Enraged cries, harsh Orc voices, followed the dull thudding sound as their full number poured from the covering of trees. Elrohir and Elladan fired two, three arrows at once, their shots rarely if ever going astray. There was a fury to their eyes and a delight at every kill, though not the battle-rage that was aroused in many at the sound of metal clashing against metal, more a vengeful delight they knew for obscene yet refused to dispose of.
The men fared badly that night. Their vision was not as strong as that of the Elves, nor their luck, nor could they using their hearing as well. Many fell amidst the screams and cries that came from Men and Orcs, a number later to be tallied, the bodies to be burned with all respect. After minutes only the number of competitors was much thinned, and the Men were losing hope. The Elves had taken up their swords, their enemies too close to use bows now.
A tragic rescue came to them now, and that was the scream of a woman. Danger closer, their women and babes in jeopardy, the Men fought again with renewed vigor. Even women, though few, came to the fighting to protect their young ones. The Men had prepared to fight to the last: equally had the Orcs.
In the end, it was the Orcs who fulfilled this, but this mattered little. The concept of children and parents, of brotherhood, fellowship and of love for one another, was altogether foreign to the Orcs. Men found that of those for whom they had fought, few ere left alive. This raid was one of the worst in decades.
The battled rage until dawn, when a rosy glow came over the camp. The blood of Men and Orcs mingled, limbs and heads lay unattached to bodies. "What perversion," said Elladan to his brother, "that though they came from our kind, it is Men who pay the Orcs' price."
"We are kin to them, as well," Elrohir said, and with his brother turned to the survivors. They stumbled as babes new to the world, uncertain, none taking command of the situation. "Where is Arathorn?" Elrohir called. The Men startled at this, and turned to him, but none offered a word.
"Dead," came the call at last. "I saw him grievous injured, though know not where his body lies."
"Then who rules here?" Elrohir asked, quenching the whispers that flitted through the crowd. When no answer came, he called impatiently, "Who rules?"
"I. . .I do, I suppose," said a battle-weary man, and to the positive replies of his comrades stepped forward. He carried himself well and with pride. "Sir," he added to the twins.
"Elbereth watch over you," Elrohir said to him, painfully aware of the number of eyes on him. "Your name?"
"Halembé, my lords."
"No longer, Halembé. We are your equals now, and we speak for all Imladris when we wish you luck, and hope our two peoples may retain our alliances." When one or another of the twins spoke in public, in especial to large groups, they said often "we" in place of "I", for in this manner they thought, and few could tell one from the other. "Now lead your people, Halembé."
It was later, as they assisted in the salvaging of the camp, that Elladan found Lady Gilraen.
*****
To be continued! Oh, but I love cliff-hangers. I'll try to have the next bit up in a more timely manner. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Grumpy: Well, into the technical it's not canon for Gilraen to have a second pregnancy. . .you'll see next chapter why I'm getting away with it.
Author's Note: I looked and for the life of me could not find who leads the Dúnedain after Arathorn is slain. Halbarad seemed something of a leader in Return of the King, so the man who inherits the title of chieftain in this story is supposed to be Halbarad's grandfather. I'm sorry if this is wrong; corrections appreciated.
*****
"Elladan."
He sat far enough from the fire that only his silhouette was visible, a solid form outlined against the night's inky blackness. Stars glimmered overhead, and softened the blow of the darkness, though they offered from it no relief. Here any man was free to release, his vices and shames immersed and lost in the night's pitch. Here any killer might be forgiven, any trespasser forgiven. Here was solitude, here was bliss. Here innocence.
Elrohir sat beside his brother, though was more cautious, for while Elladan kept his bow beside him, one idle hand fingering the string, Elrohir laid his own bow over his lap, an arrow held loosely between his fingers. "What do you think of Arathorn's boy?" Elrohir asked, gazing as his brother did into the curtained labyrinth of the trees.
"Mentally retarded," Elladan answered with his characteristic bluntness. "I would think him lucky should his years number more than five ere he dies; Arathorn is right to have Gilraen again with child. Im ú-cheb estel an Aragorn." Elladan shook his head, then added, "Nor should you."
Elrohir chuckled, for he knew his brother well. "Are not you the sentimental one, Brother? Do not you often attempt to protect me?" In their youth, it had been Elrohir who delighted in study and Elladan in fighting, through fighting he came to learning and only through healing did he come to love things that live, yet he did so not with a student's curiosity, but with a fighter's zeal. His role as eldest, too, he had been taken seriously, though the words that had sparked this within him he had not shared, even with his brother, the other half of himself.
Suddenly Elladan's mood became solemn and alert: Elrohir could not see the change in his brother, but he could sense it. Pricking up his ears, Elrohir knew what his brother sensed and readied his arrow. "Yrch!" he cried, then, remembering his present company, "Orcs!"
The horses knew it next, and they whinnied and stomped their feet against the ground. "I would free them, but would not risk my own life on it," Elladan commented. The sound of snapping ropes was quick to follow: in their panic, the horses freed themselves. Their hoofbeats disappeared into the night, and the twins said a prayer for them: may they find freedom, and not at the hands of the Orcs.
The sounds of Men readying themselves, their weapons and their courage came almost at once. Cries rang out into the silent night, and Elrohir--as the twins moved into a more lighted space--gave his brother a look critical of the edain. Their cries were loud; had the enemy any confusion as to their location, it was now scattered.
"Form a perimeter around the camp!" Arathorn called, commanding his men in their confusion. "Every man with a blade!" He had prepared for this, it seemed, and not at all to the twins' surprise: they knew him as a wise man.
When the Orcs came, the twins spotted them first. Elladan shot at the trees when he heard a rustling noise, and it seemed luck had bent his bow, for he heard an Orc fall. Enraged cries, harsh Orc voices, followed the dull thudding sound as their full number poured from the covering of trees. Elrohir and Elladan fired two, three arrows at once, their shots rarely if ever going astray. There was a fury to their eyes and a delight at every kill, though not the battle-rage that was aroused in many at the sound of metal clashing against metal, more a vengeful delight they knew for obscene yet refused to dispose of.
The men fared badly that night. Their vision was not as strong as that of the Elves, nor their luck, nor could they using their hearing as well. Many fell amidst the screams and cries that came from Men and Orcs, a number later to be tallied, the bodies to be burned with all respect. After minutes only the number of competitors was much thinned, and the Men were losing hope. The Elves had taken up their swords, their enemies too close to use bows now.
A tragic rescue came to them now, and that was the scream of a woman. Danger closer, their women and babes in jeopardy, the Men fought again with renewed vigor. Even women, though few, came to the fighting to protect their young ones. The Men had prepared to fight to the last: equally had the Orcs.
In the end, it was the Orcs who fulfilled this, but this mattered little. The concept of children and parents, of brotherhood, fellowship and of love for one another, was altogether foreign to the Orcs. Men found that of those for whom they had fought, few ere left alive. This raid was one of the worst in decades.
The battled rage until dawn, when a rosy glow came over the camp. The blood of Men and Orcs mingled, limbs and heads lay unattached to bodies. "What perversion," said Elladan to his brother, "that though they came from our kind, it is Men who pay the Orcs' price."
"We are kin to them, as well," Elrohir said, and with his brother turned to the survivors. They stumbled as babes new to the world, uncertain, none taking command of the situation. "Where is Arathorn?" Elrohir called. The Men startled at this, and turned to him, but none offered a word.
"Dead," came the call at last. "I saw him grievous injured, though know not where his body lies."
"Then who rules here?" Elrohir asked, quenching the whispers that flitted through the crowd. When no answer came, he called impatiently, "Who rules?"
"I. . .I do, I suppose," said a battle-weary man, and to the positive replies of his comrades stepped forward. He carried himself well and with pride. "Sir," he added to the twins.
"Elbereth watch over you," Elrohir said to him, painfully aware of the number of eyes on him. "Your name?"
"Halembé, my lords."
"No longer, Halembé. We are your equals now, and we speak for all Imladris when we wish you luck, and hope our two peoples may retain our alliances." When one or another of the twins spoke in public, in especial to large groups, they said often "we" in place of "I", for in this manner they thought, and few could tell one from the other. "Now lead your people, Halembé."
It was later, as they assisted in the salvaging of the camp, that Elladan found Lady Gilraen.
*****
To be continued! Oh, but I love cliff-hangers. I'll try to have the next bit up in a more timely manner. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Grumpy: Well, into the technical it's not canon for Gilraen to have a second pregnancy. . .you'll see next chapter why I'm getting away with it.