Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.
A/N:
Well, it appears FF.net doesn't like my A/N. I had to remove them, sorry, but now the chapter looks much nicer. *shakes head* I really don't get FF.net sometimes. Anything else works, but as soon as I upload my previous A/N, it all goes bonkers. *shrugs* Sorry about that.
So, no A/N this time, don't blame me, blame FF.net.
Chapter 2
Three hours later, darkness had fallen, and the moon and the bright stars in the heavens cast a weak, somewhat sickly light onto the wooded lands. Dark clouds quickly neared the pale sickle of the moon, and soon even that light was extinguished when they shifted in front of it. The sparse light reflected off the stones of a cliff a little to the East of the small clearing the moon was overlooking, making them gleam white and grey and a dozen shades in between.
A dark haired elf tore his gaze away from the sky and scowled at his companions, another elf that looked almost exactly like him.
"Twenty, aye."
Elrohir gave him a slightly sheepish look and shrugged.
"But they were only half an hour ahead of us."
Elladan ignored his twin's words and gripped the trunk of the tree they had climbed a little more tightly.
"'About twenty' you said, 'there may be some wargs' you said…"
His younger brother rolled his eyes and looked down from their airy perch onto the small glade that lay beneath their tree. A squabbling, screaming mass of orcs was all he could see, and he had to admit that yes, there were definitely more than twenty. Not to mention the eight wargs that prowled around the throng of bodies.
"Stop whining, brother. All we have to do is wait; they are killing each other quickly enough already."
That was something Elladan had to agree with, no matter how reluctantly. They had been following the orc horde for some time when the sounds of a commotion in front of them prompted them to abandon their horses and continue on foot. While they had been moving stealthily through the treetops the sounds had grown louder and fiercer, and when they had reached this one tree they were occupying right now, they had found out why: The orcs were fighting each other and were doing a fine job diminishing their numbers for them.
It had taken them some time to find out what the argument was about, and it had not been easy to discern since orcs never needed much of a reason to start fighting, even among themselves. They often killed each other for the most ridiculous and stupidest reasons, but then again, orcs weren't known to be very clever either.
This fight seemed to have erupted when a few orcs had come across a small herd of deer, and had apparently killed three or four of them with their crude bows. How the orcs had managed to surprise the usually so vigilant animals was beyond both elves, and that they had hit the beasts was no smaller a miracle. Orc archers were usually not a big threat since they were lousy shots most of the time, and they rarely managed to hit anything that moved quickly and was not busy fighting off other members of the horde.
This time, however, they had somehow managed to shoot some of the animals, and while they seemed to have done it only for spite and because of their joy of killing, it soon became apparent that a part of them was unwilling to let such a wonderful opportunity for a meal pass them by. Some orcs had immediately begun to tear chunks of meat from the carcasses, eating them raw, but the captain of this group was anything but happy about their actions. It appeared that he wanted to have some fun tonight and wished to reach the human settlements before sunrise would force them back into their caves and holes, and soon a full-fledged fight was going on, with orcs dropping left and right.
From the original thirty orcs there were only about twenty left, and the fight showed no sign of abating. The orc captain had soon abandoned all attempts at calming his men down and had joined the fray, either because he had seen that the others wouldn't listen to him anyway, now that their blood lust was kindled – a feat that demanded some measure of intelligence and that was therefore highly doubted by both twins – or because he hadn't seen why his subordinates should have all the fun without him.
Either way, the orcs were rather busy killing each other for them, Elladan shrugged inwardly, so he wasn't complaining. He turned back to his brother, keeping his voice low so the orcs wouldn't hear them, even though it was probably not necessary for he very much doubted that they would have heard even a herd of oliphaunts running at top speed through the forest right now.
"I do not whine."
Elrohir rolled his eyes again, only to turn them back onto the scene beneath them. He was not taking any chances; he wouldn't let those who survived this little argument escape.
"Of course you do. That tone of voice clearly qualifies as whining."
"It does not."
"Yes, it does."
"No, it does not."
"Yes, it does…" Elrohir narrowed his eyes as the mob beneath them drew apart, the sharp voice of the orc captain yelling orders in the Black Speech of Mordor making both elves cringe. The sound rekindled the spark of burning fury in the younger twin's heart; to him it seemed only yesterday that he had heard shouts and dark laughter in that tongue that had almost been drowned out by his mother's anguished screams of pain…
"Elrohir? Brother?"
A slender hand grabbed his forearm, and the young elf blinked quickly, noticing for the first time that he had leaned forward and would have fallen from the branch both of them were sitting on had Elladan not held him back. He consciously unclenched his hands that had wrapped themselves around the smooth bark of the tree and his bow and looked at his brother, shaking his head to regain some semblance of control. Every time he saw one of these creatures a red haze seemed to lay itself over his vision, transporting him back to that orc cave where they had found their mother nearly a yén ago.
"I am fine," he assured the other elf softly, not trusting himself to speak calmly should he raise his voice even a little. His eyes grew hard and dark when he looked down onto the glade where the orcs were preparing to leave now. The captain had apparently regained control of his men who numbered only eighteen now, and the creatures were piling the ones who had perished in the fight up on one side of the clearing, not because they wanted to burn them or anything of that sort but because they were searching every body for something that may yet be of use for them.
"I am fine," Elrohir repeated, hatred blazing brightly in his usually calm grey eyes. "Let's kill them all."
Elladan smiled grimly, surveying the scene in front of them.
"A noble intention, brother, but I think we need a plan."
The other elf blinked again, looking slightly startled, before he nodded his head.
"That does sound like a sensible idea, gwanur nín. Do you have a suggestion?"
"I do," Elladan nodded, beginning to speak quickly when he saw that the orcs were almost ready to move out. "I distract them and you take out as many of their archers as you can before the wargs eat us both. We meet in the middle."
"Oh?" Elrohir raised a mocking eyebrow. "So you distract nineteen orcs while I try to kill as many of the seven archers that are still left as possible before both of us are torn to pieces by their little friends? Is that your master plan?"
His brother wrinkled his brow as if in deep thought.
"Essentially … yes."
"Ah," Elrohir nodded seriously before he began to grin darkly, "I like your style."
"You would," Elladan mumbled under his breath as they quickly began to descend the tree, cocking his head slightly to the side when he heard a faint rumbling in the distance. Well, if they were lucky they would be finished and on their way to the Last Bridge when the storm reached them. But then again, he grimaced slightly, they were never lucky.
They stopped on a branch about ten feet above the ground, watching the orc horde closely. Elrohir reached for an arrow and fitted it to his bow so he would be ready to take out the orcs' archers as soon as his brother started "distracting" them, whatever that might prove to mean exactly. He looked up into Elladan's serious face when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and smiled slightly when he saw the emotions on his brother's face. Nodding at what he saw on the other's face, he smiled slightly and gave Elladan a gentle push into the other direction.
"Go, brother. I would like to get this over with before they decide to leave."
Elladan nodded as well and smiled back, moving to the side of the branch and eyeing the tree next to him. He needed to move a little bit away from his brother before he made himself known to the creatures on the ground, or their entire plan would fail from the very beginning. Deciding on a sturdy branch about eight feet to the left of him, he quickly turned back to Elrohir, smiling at him.
"And it did not."
"Pardon me?" the other elf asked, clearly confused.
"My tone of voice did not qualify as whining."
With that he turned and jumped, landing soundlessly in the other tree and disappearing so quickly from sight that not even Elrohir could follow his movements for long.
The younger twin shook his head and returned his gaze to the orcs, knowing that Elladan would still be able to hear him, no matter how softly he spoke.
"Yes it did, brother, and you know it."
Glorfindel sat on the windowsill of his bed-chamber, watching the grey storm clouds that had gathered in the far distance. It was already quite late at night, and usually he would already be sleeping, for the coming day would be filled with paperwork since his lord had announced – in his opinion much too happily – that they would spend the day taking stock of Rivendell's supplies so they could replenish what they needed before the cold season began in earnest. It was already early November, and in the winter it would be a lot harder to get what they needed than now.
It was a reasonable idea – which, however, did not make it any more appealing to the golden haired elf – and Glorfindel also knew that Elrond was burying himself in his work to distract himself from the fact that his sons were out there, hunting orcs with Aravorn and his men. It was the Lord of Rivendell's instinctive reaction if faced with a problem, and Glorfindel respected that, but a small part of him still wished that Elrond could find other means of distracting himself, means that did not involve him, Glorfindel, or paperwork.
But despite all this he was still awake, and it was not only to watch the storm. He did like watching storms, he didn't really know himself why, but he didn't like it enough to chance provoking his lord's wrath because he was too tired to be of assistance tomorrow. No, he was still here, watching the thunderstorm – without a bottle of Dorwinion this time, however – because he was busy doing two things.
Firstly, he was trying not to think about the twins himself or the fact that he would most likely soon have to drag them back to Imladris, and secondly was he busy coming up with a way of exacting bloody revenge on Erestor for yesterday night. The dark haired elf had to pay, for no-one humiliated him, Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin, in front of his lord and the rest of Rivendell's population. Not to mention his lord's twin sons, with which he was back at the topic that worried him the most.
Glorfindel sighed. The twins. He very much doubted that he would ever see someone as stubborn as those two young ones. They were clearly their father's sons, and Celebrían hadn't exactly been what one would call "weak-willed" either. The golden haired elf smiled, lost in memory. No, the silver haired elf maiden had been anything but, as had been to be expected of a daughter of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn.
Glorfindel was sure that Celebrían's stubbornness had been the main thing that had caused Elrond to fall in love with her; the half-elf had finally found someone who was as headstrong as he. Galadriel's daughter was more subtle about it, and rather resorted to convincing people with that radiant smile of hers that was able to light up an entire room, but in truth she was just as bad as her husband, and ever since Elrond had sometime in the Second Age started talking about her with that particular dreamy expression on his face that could only be found on a fool's or a male's who had just met the embodiment of all his dreams, Glorfindel had known that he would be doomed should the two of them ever have children.
And he had been right, the golden haired elf nodded, the twins and Arwen were indeed among the most stubborn beings he had ever met. But this trait would prove to be their undoing yet, he admitted to himself, and there was nothing Elrond or he could do. His lord had been right; Elladan and Elrohir were old enough to decide their own fate, and they had to understand for themselves that their wild hatred would only get them killed. He didn't expect them to forget what had happened to their mother, of course not, but they had to stop seeking to destroy orcs wherever they could find them, regardless of their own safety.
The blonde elf sighed again, his eyes not really seeing the lightning that was beginning to light up the sky now. He didn't like being forced to do nothing, and he honestly couldn't see how Elrond could stand it. Well, he decided a little bit wryly, Imladris' Lord might be younger than he, but he was definitely more patient.
Tearing his thoughts away from this particularly displeasing subject, he once again began to think about what he could do to Erestor. Most of the ideas he had had were definitely unbecoming an elf lord, but for everything there were exceptions, and this was one of them. Erestor would find out why it wasn't a good idea to alienate him, he would make sure of that…
After some more minutes, Glorfindel stood to his feet, having come to the decision that he would need to give the matter considerable thought. Deciding that sleep would elude him this night whatever he did, he quickly walked over to his large bed and took up a shirt. He didn't really expect to see many elves at this time of night, but it would be highly inappropriate to appear in the corridors of the Last Homely House clad only in his breeches. A small, wicked smile spread on his face as he imagined a scenario involving a scantily clothed Erestor, Rivendell's population and general public humiliation. Oh yes, revenge was sweet indeed, and Erestor would find out about it first-hand, Eru help him!
He bound back his long hair with a leather strip, softly threatening the gleaming strands to shear them off if they didn't co-operate a little bit more in the near future, opened his door and turned into the direction of the Hall of Fire. Since the Lady's departure most elves were not feeling very cheerful anymore, and mostly because neither the Lord nor his sons were to be found in the large hall on the evenings the celebrations that had been held there were now few and not as joyous as they had once been. Elves mourned long and hard, and Celebrían's absence was still felt keenly by all of Rivendell's population.
Glorfindel entered the hall, finding it empty as he had expected. He didn't wish for company, and to sit in front of the fire and let its dancing flames soothe his troubled mind and help him come up with a way to avenge himself on Erestor was exactly what he needed right now. As he was about to settle down in a large, stuffed armchair in one of the corners, however, he noticed that he had been wrong: He was not alone.
Hidden in the shadows a little to his left he could see the still, motionless figure of his lord who seemed to be very busy staring into the flickering flames of the fire. All in all, it was a respectable occupation, especially since he himself had come here to do the same, but in his opinion Elrond's face was a little too dark and too sombre, even if one considered the shadows that were dancing across his face.
He took a few steps closer to the dark haired elf and, when Elrond failed to acknowledge him, laid a hand on his shoulder.
"My lord?"
To his credit, Elrond did not jump when he heard his advisor's soft voice, but it was obviously a near thing. His head whipped to the right, but his body relaxed after a few moments when he saw who it was that had interrupted his reverie. Glorfindel frowned slightly and narrowed his blue eyes. If his friend really hadn't heard his approach, he had been deep in thought indeed.
The Lord of Rivendell smiled at the other elf, a smile that looked more than a little bit strained and did not reach his eyes.
"Glorfindel. Sleep is eluding you as well, I see?"
The golden haired elf returned the smile and sat down next to the other elf onto the wooden bench he was occupying, not waiting to be invited to do so. Elrond needed someone to talk to, even if that stubborn half-elf didn't realise it himself.
"My being is overcome with terror at the prospect of the coming day, mellon nín," he told him in a confidential tone of voice. "I would rather face another of Morgoth's balrogs than taking stock of our supplies."
That statement brought a real smile to the dark haired elf's lips, and Glorfindel thought that, for this alone, a sleepless night had been well worth it.
"So we have found a challenge that raises fear in the mighty balrog slayer!"
"Nay, my lord," Glorfindel shook his head. "No fear. Only terror."
Elrond shook his head and leaned back against the wall, eyes once again straying to the dancing flames of the fire. Glorfindel watched him for a while with his head cocked to the side, and finally came to the conclusion that the dark haired elf wouldn't tell him anything on his own.
"And why are you here?"
The other elf didn't answer, although Glorfindel was sure that he had heard him, and merely continued staring straight ahead. After a moment he opened his mouth to speak, eyes dark and overcome with memories.
"It is dark."
Glorfindel blinked, the question of whether Elrond had lost his mind briefly flickering through his mind, but when he looked closer, he could see in the other's eyes that his friend was not only talking about the room they were in at the moment.
"It is dark, yes," he agreed quietly.
Elrond ignored him and continued, so softly that Glorfindel would nearly have missed his words.
"All is dark since she left, Glorfindel, it is as if the sun has sunken never to return. Without her presence night has fallen and these halls are empty and dark, and no light shines through this darkness that has laid itself over our home without her laughter."
The blonde elf shook his head sadly, not able to imagine the sorrow his friend had to feel.
"You will see her again, mellon nín. She is waiting for you on the shores of Aman, and one day you and I will set sail to the West where she is awaiting your arrival."
"Aye," Elrond nodded bitterly, "One day. But not one day soon." He raised a hand to interrupt his friend who had just opened his mouth to say something. "No, my friend, I have seen it. It will be a long time before I will journey to the Havens, and I can only hope that I will leave behind a world that is free and safe, ruled by my brother's heirs; not a world that is covered in darkness and shadow and under the dominion of the Dark One, and yet there does my foresight fail me. I do not know which side will prevail, and that makes it even harder, in a way."
Glorfindel didn't like his friend's dark tone one bit, and he reached out and grasped his forearm, causing the dark haired elf to look at him in mild surprise.
"Never forget the one thing that matters, my friend. You will see her again, no matter how long it will take. She is happy where she is now and will be waiting for you until the ends of time if she has to; you know how stubborn your Celebrían is." Elrond smiled at that, inclining his head slightly, and Glorfindel continued, a small smile playing about his lips as well. "When our time here comes to an end, you, your children and I will pass into the West, and all of you will be reunited. All will be well."
"She is stubborn, that is correct," the dark haired elf agreed after a small pause, a smile on his lips as he remembered an event from the past. "Alas, so are her sons."
"Now, my friend," Glorfindel smiled, "Do not try to shift the blame on your poor wife. How else could they have turned out to be with you as their father?"
Elrond gave his advisor a smug look, looking remarkably like one of his sons for a moment.
"Other than handsome, intelligent, brave, wise, graceful, patient and kind?"
The golden haired rolled his eyes.
"Those weren't exactly the words I was looking for."
"I cannot imagine why not," the Lord of Imladris retorted, but a moment later the lightheartedness disappeared from his face. "Do you remember what I told you earlier today?"
A strange feeling appeared in Glorfindel's heart and he narrowed his eyes, looking at the other elf intently.
"Which part of our conversation are you referring to?"
"The part where I told you that, one day, they would not be coming back."
The blonde elf's eyes widened, and he felt his heart freeze in his chest. Elbereth, Elrond couldn't mean that… He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart.
"Have you … foreseen something?"
He almost closed his eyes as he was waiting for an answer. Elrond's gift – or curse – of foresight was formidable, and if he had seen his sons' death, it would most likely come to pass, just like so many things before…
"No."
The softly spoken word let the blonde elf almost sink backwards against the wall in relief, and he had to resist the temptation of wiping his brow to get rid of the very un-elf-lordly sweat that had accumulated there. The Valar be praised…
"But," Elrond continued, "There is something out there, a shadow, a threat, whatever you want to call it. It has been growing in my mind ever since they left, and I fear that they have once again found the trouble they crave. Yet this time, I feel that it may be more than they can handle."
Glorfindel nodded, his thoughts already several miles away. He rose and nodded again, about to turn to the hall's exit.
"I will assemble a guard contingent; even at this time of night there should be more than enough volunteers. We can be gone in half an hour if we hurry, and…"
Elrond smiled slightly and shook his head, looking at the tall blonde elf that stood in front of him. Glorfindel was indeed his best and most loyal friend, and none did he trust more or more unconditionally since he had lost Elros and Gil-galad. And yet, even despite the millennia the golden haired elf had already walked on this world or spent in the Halls of Mandos, he was still rather impulsive – which he would deny if faced with that accusation, for elf lords were of course not impulsive – and did what his heart told him.
"No, mellon nín," he shook his head and looked at the other elf earnestly, "None of my guards will leave this night, and you least of all." When Glorfindel merely looked at him with a frown on his face, he added, "The storm is growing stronger in the West; it is not safe outside of our borders now."
"But…" Glorfindel began, only to be interrupted again by his lord.
"No, Glorfindel. I will not risk the lives of several others for two elves, even if they are my sons, and that because of a vague foreboding that could mean nothing."
The blonde elf studied his lord's eyes and quickly saw that nothing save a direct order by one of the Valar would be able to change Elrond's mind now. With a sigh he admitted defeat and sat down again.
"Is it, Elrond? Is it a vague foreboding and nothing more?"
Elrond's face darkened, and he looked to the floor, shadows dancing across his features.
"No," he admitted softly, "It is not. It is as strong and urgent as few others I have received in the past, but that changes nothing. The risk is still too great, and all we can do is pray to the Valar that both of them are clever enough not to go looking for trouble." He saw the slightly rebellious look on his advisor's face and added, looking up at him again, "If I still feel the same tomorrow morning you may leave at sunrise. Will that satisfy you?"
"No," Glorfindel shook his head, a resigned smile on his face, "But it will have to do, my lord." He looked into the grey eyes of his friend that were almost black with worry and suppressed fear now, and told him, partly to reassure himself, "They will be fine. We will probably find them in the rangers' camp, unscathed and mocking poor Arahad about his infatuation with his young son."
"Yes," Elrond agreed, giving him a forced smile, "You are probably right, my friend."
The two elf lords looked at each other, both fervently trying to believe what they had just said, but both knowing deep in their hearts that it was not so. Elrond broke the almost uncomfortable silence first and leaned back against the smooth stones of the wall.
"Tell me then," he began, raising a dark eyebrow, "What it is you are planning for my dear chief counsellor?"
Glorfindel looked back at him, displaying an expression of aggrieved innocence. If Elrond wanted to change the subject, he was more than willing to oblige. It would help no-one if they drove each other mad with worry about these irresponsible, insolent little elflings.
"Planned? I? For Erestor?"
Elrond began to smile, a smile that lit up his whole face.
"Please, my friend, this look does not suit you. I know that you are planning something."
"Another vision of the future?" Glorfindel teased gently.
"You could say that," Elrond nodded. "Tell me then, or I will have to order you to."
"You would do that?" Glorfindel exclaimed in mock horror. "What a terribly disgraceful thing to do, to exploit your status to obtain information!"
"It is you who keeps insisting that elf lords do not appear clueless in public," Elrond reproached, his smile widening. "Besides, planning to do something to a fellow lord I am not yet sure I really want to know is nothing I would call befitting an elf lord!"
His blonde advisor closed his mouth he had opened for a scathing reply. Well, the dark haired elf was right about that…
"Very well," he relented. "To my shame I have to admit that I haven't planned anything yet."
"No?" Elrond arched an eyebrow incredulously.
"No," Glorfindel replied almost testily, "I have not. I do not plan such things very often."
The smile on Elrond's face grew to improbable dimensions, and he leaned forward, grey eyes twinkling now.
"Ah, I believe I can be of assistance here."
Now it was Glorfindel's turn to arch an eyebrow.
"You, my lord?"
Elrond even looked somewhat hurt and offended.
"Of course. I had a twin brother for nearly five hundred years after all; I know everything about revenge, believe me."
"Then, my lord," the other elf inclined his head, "I will gladly accept your generous offer. May we think of something that will teach that scoundrel to prey on unsuspecting elves who only want to enjoy their evening in peace and tranquillity!"
"If I remember correctly, my dear advisor," Elrond interjected dryly, "It was you who wrote that particular word on his forehead."
"A mere detail," Glorfindel brushed the younger elf's objection aside. There it was again, the word. He really needed to find out what it had been; every elf he had questioned had feigned ignorance and had disappeared as quickly as possible, wearing a smug grin one might add. "The entire thing was his fault and he must pay."
"Very well, mellon nín," Elrond conceded, "You have no ideas then?"
"The terms 'disgrace', 'public humiliation' and 'pain' come to mind now that you mention it," Glorfindel said slowly, the wicked grin spreading once again on his face as he remembered the small vision he had had earlier, and his lord listened to his ideas, clearly amused by most of them.
The thought of the twins never left his or Elrond's mind, but the enjoyable conversation helped to push it back for a little while and make the long wait that lay ahead until a search party could leave the Last Homely Home a bit more bearable.
Together the two elf lords spent the rest of the evening in the Hall of Fire, blonde and dark head huddled together as they planned something that could only be described as unbefitting two elf lords of their status, but right then, neither of them cared.
There were exceptions to every rule, after all.
A few dozen leagues to the west, Elrohir was just ducking under a blow that had been aimed at his head, coming back up in time to see the stupid expression on the orc's face when it stared at its scimitar and tried to come up with a reason why it hadn't hit its intended target.
The elven twin took another step to the side and brought his own blade down, cleanly cleaving the creature's head from its shoulders. The orc's body remained upright for a few seconds, frozen in place, before it tumbled to the earth, its black blood colouring the grass a sickening brown.
Elrohir wasn't there to observe this, however, since he had spun on his heel and moved to the left to escape the crude spear another orc had thrust at him. While he was trying to avoid getting skewered by this new foe, Elrohir tried to find out when and at which point their plan had gone so terribly wrong.
'That would be the beginning,' a voice in his head supplied as the younger twin danced to the side, avoiding the weapon that had nearly been thrust into his stomach a second ago. Indeed, it had gone wrong from the very beginning…
He didn't blame his brother's plan, because, considering the circumstances, it had been a rather good one. Not by any means perfect, no, but it had been sensible enough in his opinion. What had spoiled the whole thing, however, had been the storm, or more precisely, thunder and lightning. Loud thunder had clapped and lightning had lit up the sky in the exact moment that Elladan had leapt down from his tree to "distract" the horde, causing the orcs to look up in sudden fright. That by itself would not have been too alarming, for they would have noticed the elf anyway a moment or two later, but they also had seen him, Elrohir, where he had been edging forward to have more space to fire his arrows.
Half the horde had still been distracted by Elladan who had drawn as many of the orcs as possible away from the centre of the glade, and Elrohir had therefore had enough time to loosen four arrows which all found their targets in the necks of four orc archers, but the remaining three had recovered quickly enough from their shock of seeing an elf sitting in a tree above their heads to shower the spot where he had sat with arrows.
The only option the younger elven twin had had left had been to drop down from the tree and join his brother on the ground, relying on his sword and long knife to discourage any orc that might feel the urge to come too close to him.
What really bothered him though, Elrohir decided as he narrowly escaped the spear again, were the wargs. He had always hated these creatures with a passion, and now was not the time he felt inclined to let go of that feeling. Orcs were for the most part clumsy and slow adversaries who could be avoided with the greatest of ease unless there were so many that they closed off your every escape, but wargs were an entirely different story.
They were much bigger and intelligent than their wild cousins, the wolves, and a lot stronger as well. They had learned to work together to bring down their prey, and that was exactly what was causing problems for him and his twin.
Elrohir finally managed to dispatch the orc that had been doing its best in the past few minutes to impale him on its spear, and jumped up into the air just in time to avoid the teeth of a warg that had sneaked up on them and had been about to sink its fangs into the flesh of his leg.
The dark haired elf landed soundlessly a foot away from the beast, turned and thrust his dagger deeply into the animal's throat before it could react. The warg collapsed, twitching spasmodically, giving Elrohir enough time to regain his bearings.
Running up to him were two orcs, their hideous faces contorted into angry masks and their weapons raised high up into the air. One of them brandished a scimitar of the sort that the orcs forged themselves, crude and evil-looking like everything their race made, while the other held a broadsword which the creature had probably stolen from a human that had fallen victim to them.
That was another thing that was to be heeded when one was fighting orcs, he thought idly, turning slightly to the left to look for his brother, orcs were never armed uniformly, for they used all kinds of weapons which they pilfered and stole from the bodies of those unfortunate enough to cross their way. For inexperienced warriors it was rather hard to adapt to having to fight the most different types of weapons at the same time, something that could only be remedied by much training and exercise.
Wrenching his thoughts away from that, Elrohir noticed that the two orcs were only a few yards away now and quickly looked around for his brother. After a fraction of a second he found him, busy fending off several orcs and wargs. Elladan was only a blur of long hair and gleaming blades, his face hard and emotionless and his eyes shining brightly with something that could only be described as blood lust.
There were about eight orcs left, including two archers, and four wargs, if he had counted correctly. And two of these orcs, he added somewhat wryly, were just rushing up to him, murderous intent shining brightly in their yellowish eyes. Elrohir side-stepped at the last possible moment and let the orcs rush past him, using the opportunity to lash out at one of them. A dark smile curved his lips when he heard the creature's unearthly howl of pain, but the orc didn't fall to the ground and seemed to regain its wits in time to wheel around with its companion.
Elrohir frowned and narrowed his eyes when he realised that his blow hadn't killed the orc. Glorfindel would have his head if he heard about it, he decided sheepishly, the ancient elf had always told him to take more time before striking out at an adversary. And Elladan would probably dissolve into giggles after scowling at him and lecturing him about his carelessness, provided that both of them survived this little skirmish, of course…
Elrond's younger son shifted his stance slightly, sighing loudly when he saw that two wargs were giving up their circling of the group which his brother was fighting right now and were coming his way, quickly. He really, really, disliked wargs. But then again, the more the foul creatures concentrated on him, the less trouble would his twin have, so it was well worth it.
Elrohir took a step forwards when the two orcs rushed up to him and blocked one of them with his sword and the other with his knife, cursing inwardly when he realised that the wargs were almost upon them. He was forced to give way and to move to the East of the clearing, still busy fending off the orcs and now the two wargs that had decided to join the fray.
While he was slowly being pushed away from the clearing and forced to move backwards through the thick undergrowth, Elrohir gave an annoyed growl, lifting his eyes to the cloudy heaven where lightning could be seen in increasingly short intervals.
Elbereth Gilthoniel, what else could possibly go wrong?
As if to answer the young elf's question, the heavens promptly opened and heavy rain began to fall, so heavy that it immediately lowered the visibility to a few feet. Elrohir's eyes grew wide, and he fought the almost irresistible urge to throw his hands up in despair.
What a terribly stupid question that had been.
At the same time, Elladan was thoroughly annoyed.
Annoyed with the orcs that were trying to cut him into little pieces, annoyed with the orc that had managed to slice his left arm open, annoyed with the wargs that seemed more than willing to eat said little pieces, annoyed with the rain, annoyed with the fact that he could no longer see his twin even though he could still hear him fighting a bit away from the clearing, and, most of all, annoyed with himself.
Here one could see again why Elrohir was the one whose plans were successful, because he was more patient and took more time to judge a situation. His wonderful master plan had gone wrong from the very beginning, and Elladan would have hit himself hadn't he been so busy trying to keep his adversaries away from him.
Elladan moved quickly to the right and thrust his sword into the other direction at the same time, managing to hit the spot beneath the orc's arm where its armour was weak and driving his blade right into its heart, if creatures such as these even had things like hearts. The goblin dropped to the ground, dead before its body touched the earth the rain was quickly turning into mud, therefore bringing the number of his attackers down to three, not counting the one warg that was still trying to snap at his legs, obviously having decided that the elf looked far tastier than the multitude of orc bodies that littered the ground.
Actually, he was doing quite well if one ignored that little cut on his arm, Elladan decided with a small, reckless smile, lifting his sword a little as the remaining orcs looked at each other, obviously trying to figure out what to do. The fact that the orc he had just killed had been the captain properly didn't help them to make a decision either, and the elf was suddenly very glad that he had killed it.
The orcs' leader had been a strong, dark skinned and determined adversary, and in his opinion more dangerous than the whole lot of his subordinates. He heard a piercing wail somewhere to his left, and smiled darkly when he realised that Elrohir must just have killed another warg. That left only the one that was looking as if it seriously contemplated flight now if he had counted correctly, plus his own three enemies and the two orcs Elrohir was still facing. All in all, it was looking rather good, considering that they had started with about thirty orcs and eight wargs…
Elladan moved into an attack position, appearing next to one of the remaining orcs before the creature had time to even blink or turn its head fully into his direction. The elf's dagger gleamed when another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and a second later the orc joined his dead companions on the ground, its throat slit cleanly from one of the creature's punctured and disfigured ears to the other.
The torrential rain almost immediately washed off all of the dark blood that clung to the elder twin's knife, and he raised his eyes from where he had watched the bright steel to meet the orcs' now rather frightened eyes, although a crazed glint was still hidden in their gazes. Elladan felt how the satisfaction he felt every time he killed one of these monsters grew in his heart, and the echo of his mother's cries that had resounded in his mind ever since he had laid eyes on the orcs stilled somewhat, even though it didn't fade entirely. It never faded completely, not even when he was asleep; he was never able to forget the sounds of his mother's torment…
His eyes darkened even further at these thoughts and a cold fury seemed to emanate from the elf's lithe body, almost tangible in its intensity. The orcs looked at each other, their stupid faces confused, and together they decided that their companions' death wasn't worth getting killed for by this apparently crazy elf.
One of the two, an archer that had displayed a certain unwillingness to get involved in the fighting – something that suggested a certain level of intelligence on his part – turned and raced away, heading for the sounds of his fighting companions somewhere close to the cliff that dropped off sharply in the East. It was definitely a cleverer thing to do than to try and run past the elf in front of them, which was exactly what the other orc attempted to do. Before he had even taken more than a few steps, the dark haired elf moved with incredible speed, his whole body only a blur, and the dark creature fell to the ground, eyes wide and unseeing.
Elladan looked down on the orc for a second, sheathing his knife, before he looked up, just in time to see the only remaining warg slowly inch backwards, its tail between its legs. When it had gained some distance, it wheeled around and disappeared between the dark trees as fast as its four legs would carry it.
Well, he wouldn't miss the beast, that much was sure.
Elrond's oldest son shrugged slightly, wiped a strand of dripping wet dark hair out of his eyes and took off into the direction the other orc had taken. He had to help his brother and then they could both leave this place behind and find something where it was nice and warm, and, most of all, dry. Elladan pushed through the dense undergrowth, easily following the sounds of fighting, the light his elven body produced the only thing except the flashing lightning to light his way. That was just their kind of luck, he decided, to be caught in the worst thunderstorm of this century. Suddenly he was very glad that Arwen wasn't coming home this winter; the mere thought of his little sister trapped in such a weather on the mountain pass of Caradhras or anywhere else for that matter was enough to send shivers down his spine.
A second later he left the trees behind and stepped out into the open. In front of him, Elrohir was just fighting the last of the orcs that was still alive, a big, burly creature that wielded a broadsword rather skilfully. The bodies of two wargs and another orc were lying somewhere to his right, all in various states of bloodiness, and behind his brother he could see the edge of the cliff, the stones gleaming white in the light of the lightning.
Elrohir noticed the gently glowing figure of his brother as he stepped into the open, and gave him a small smile while he danced to the side to avoid being cut in two. 'How typical,' he thought annoyed, 'I get to fight the biggest and most skilful orcs while my dear brother gets to slay the rest. It is simply not fair…'
These thoughts were quickly forgotten when the orc in front of him stumbled over a tree root that protruded a little from the ground and tumbled forwards, nearly knocking the younger twin off his feet. Elrohir was quick enough to twist his body to the side while he was pushed back, and he managed to free himself of his adversary's body and dive to the side a mere three feet away from the cliff's edge. The orc who had nearly fallen over the precipice needed some more time to regain its bearing, time it did not have when fighting an elven warrior. Elrohir was upon him before the creature could even turn around fully, and a second later the large orc's body hit the muddy ground, the dark haired elf's sword protruding from its ribcage.
The younger twin barely gave the orc he had just killed another look and wrenched his sword from its body, sheathing it in the same, fluent movement. He took a small step forward, grinning at his brother who was just coming closer and inwardly deciding that he could actually hear water slosh around in his quiver. He ran a hand through his dark hair, finding it so wet that he could have come out of a lengthy bath for all he knew. Oh yes. The Valar had ways of proving uncannily that it could always get worse.
Elladan grinned at his twin, grey eyes twinkling.
"Are you finished playing? Honestly, while you were dancing around with your friends here I killed about half a dozen over there!"
"Are we comparing our kills?" Elrohir grimaced. "If so, dear brother, I am afraid that you will be surprised, because…"
He never got to finish that sentence, for a small, almost undetectable movement to his brother's left caught his eye and he moved to the right, narrowing his eyes slightly. Elladan had not seen it, but a small noise, like feet shifting on fallen leaves, alerted him that they were not alone. He whirled to the left, thinking that perhaps the warg had returned, but it was too late. A moment too late he realised that it was not the warg, but the more intelligent orc that had fled from him, the only remaining archer of the group. The orc archer that was aiming at his twin right now.
He didn't even have time to move an inch into the orc's direction before his keen elven ears detected the swishing sound of an arrow that was being fired, and he turned just in time to see the projectile burrow itself in his twin's shoulder. Elrohir's head shot up with a start, eyes wide and unbelieving as the force of the impact propelled him backwards.
Elladan was already running toward his brother before he had fully realised what was happening, a strange shout ringing through the air he couldn't remember uttering, but even in the moment he broke into his desperate run he knew that he would be too late. Under normal circumstances Elrohir might have had a chance to stop his momentum or to gain a foothold, but the ground was sodden and muddy and too slippery for any such action.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion to Elladan, and so he saw clearly how his younger brother's body reeled with the impact and was pushed backwards as if struck by an invisible fist. Elrohir's hands flew immediately to the dark shaft that had hit him in the right shoulder, and his eyes fastened on his twin's as he was pushed into the direction of the cliff's edge.
Elladan gave an extra burst of speed in the irrational hope to reach Elrohir in time, looking with wild, desperate eyes at his brother's identical grey orbs that were full of pain, fear and regret.
"Elrohir!! No!!"
Another shout rang out, a part of his brain this time clearly identifying it as his, but Elladan paid it no heed. All he could see were the wide, amazingly calm eyes of his twin that rolled back into his head as shock set in and he stumbled backwards, falling over the edge of the cliff and disappearing from view.
TBC...
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years
gwanur nín - my (twin) brother
mellon nín - my friend
It seems that, somehow, their luck is just as bad as Aragorn's or Legolas'. Must be genetic, really... *g* Oh, I kind of forgot to warn you of the cliffy, right? I'm sorry, really... *evil grin* Whether it's going to be a cliff-hanger or a cliff-faller (see, I have learned from my last story! *g*) we'll see on Thursday, I think. What do you think? Reviews of course encourage me and are generally appreciated. So: Review? Please?
Additional A/N:
Firnsarnien - LOL, so any elf pain and angst will do? Well, if that's the case you're just right here, of course... *evil grin* I guess you're right, in the end Estel will lighten their spirits, but this is taking place about three-hundred years before his birth, so he won't be in here. Sorry. *shrugs* You can't have everything, right?
Nikara - *hangs head in shame* Well, I was planning to update this more frequently! I really was, but fate or evil telephone company people didn't let me... Great you like Glorfindel, I love him too! He's adorable! *huggles him* And I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to tell you more about the word. Sorry. *g*
Iverson - I know what you mean, my sister and I do that all the time as well. She's clearly not listening when I'm taling to her and yet insists that she was! It's so infuriating! *grrrrr* What do you mean? *innocently* I? Devised injuries for whom? I don't know what you're talking about! I would never hurt them - or would I? Hmm, my alter ego might... *g* We'll see...
Mouse5 - *singing* I'll never tell, I'll never tell... Sorry, but there's really no way I'm telling you what Glorfindel wrote on Erestor's forehead. I'm not suicidal, you know, and after a balrog that elf would have no trouble killing ME... You want me to write a story about Glorfindel? Just about him? Hmm, tough one... *g*
Kaeera - *zufriedenes Grinsen* Na, magst' meine Wortkreation? Das ist doch schoen zu hoeren... *g* Und recht hast du: Comic relief ist ja was schoenes, aber sie sind erwachsene Elben, um Himmels Willen! Sie haben doch ganz andere Probleme, nech? Ich find' es echt toll, dass dir die kleine Geschichte gefaellt, und noch mal grosses Entschuldigung wegen der Verspaetung. Alles die Schuld der Telekom, ehrlich. Nun aber haelt mich nichts mehr auf, und die naechsten Kapitel gehen ganz schnell! Hoch und heilig versprochen!
Alisha B - *nods* It's always like that... just like when a boy is interested in you. I'm always the last person to notice anything... *coughs* Okay, got a little distracted here... *g* I'm very sorry to hear that RL is out there to get you, and also sorry that I didn't make it on Thanksgiving. All the phone company's fault, really. And you cut yourself AGAIN? Girl, I swear you're just as bad as Estel! *shakes head*
Firniswin - This almost made you cry? Oh, then just you wait ... in later chapters it get much worse, really.... *trails off evilly* Great you like the story even though there is no Estel and/or Legolas, thanks a lot for the review!
Aratfeniel - LOL, 'trouble, blood and other stuff'? Well, there's not ALWAYS trouble, blood and other stuff in my stories... *trails off at incredulous looks that readers give her* Well, alright, perhaps you're right. But only a little. And not that much blood. *g*
JustJordy - Uhm, huh? I should finish THOM? I'm sorry to say that, but it's finished. Did you mean To Walk in Nigh, whose acronym is TWIN, as I have just discovered? If that's the case you don't have to worry, since this story here is already finished. I wrote it before I even started with TWIN (*giggles at name*), I don't write more than one story on principle. Well, be that as it may, thanks for the review! Great to hear that you like this story as well!
CrazyLOTRfan - Wow, you're up at three-thirty in the morning? Shoo, off to bed! *g* Well, anyway, it's always nice to get a review from you, the insane...sorry, the mentally unstable Canadian girl! *huggles* Thanks!
Websterans - *g* Thank you! I could in fact not write an entirely serious scene to save my life, but that's another story. *g* Well, the song was something Thranduil, Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel were singing when Thranduil was visiting Imladris with his father Oropher to discuss matters of state with Elrond and Gil-galad, before the Last Alliance. It was something that happened (via a flashback) in "The Heart of Men", my previous story. And about the word ... well, I'm not telling! Glorfindel would kill me and I'm not yet ready to die... *g*
Mystic Girl1 - Du liest meine Kapitel in der Schule! Ich bin entsetzt! Als ICH noch in der Schule war, in MEINER Jugend, da waere so was nie passiert! Schande ueber dich! *g* Tja, so wie Glorfindel haben wir uns doch alle schon mal gefuehlt - so wie ich vor ner Weile, als ich nach eine, wilden LotR-Abend um 4 h nachts auf einem Freund aufwachte - Gott sei Dank vollkommen bekleidet. Da hatte ich echt fuer ein paar Momente Panik bekommen... *g* Okay. Wie auch immer. LOL, das mit den Zielscheieben waere ja wirklich noch das Tuepfelchen auf dem I. *rot werd* Na, meine Geschichten sind nicht IMMER grossartig. Aber trotzdem Danke. *g* Und du hast die anderen beiden wirklich ausgedruckt? Na, dann muss dein Drucker echt besser sein als meiner...
YunaDax - *looks at this chapter* Uhm, yes, I guess we do have a litle fighting in here. And a bit of angst, as well, yes... I'm sorry for not updating any sooner, but there was really no way for me to do so. I hope this is still soon enough, thanks for the review!
Suzi9 - Oh, you don't have to apologise to ME. I KNOW how evil phone companies can be, and I've had some first hand encounters with BT myself. They're just as evil as the people here, and THAT means something in my opinion. *g* And your review wasn't short! I was rather long, really! I mean it! I guess you're right, it's hard to find fics that are not based on Aragorn and/or Legolas. I don't get it myself, since I adore the twins, and I would write more twinfics myself if I had the time, which I don't, unfortunately. Hmm, what do I know about Nero ... Nero Claudius Caesar, born I think 37, adopted son of Claudius, became Emperor in 54 till 68. Allegedly burned Rome, which he didn't. Poisoned his brother, murdered his mother and several wives etc. etc. Not much more without looking it up, I fear... Not that it's still of any interest to you now.. *g* *excited* Really? I can hire the chariot? Great! I name the dragon Drákon, what do you think? It's just Greek, but...
Jazmin3 Firewing - Well, yeah, you're right. Let's just assume that the twins were there right after the birth when poor Arahad was still a little bit stunned, okay? *g* And I would love to meet Finarfen. I think he/she would get along just great with Stan, my balrog. He's quite sweet, really.
Seveawen - So, as I said in the A/N, I didn't make the rangers up, that's all Tolkien. "Ara-" means "kingly" or something of that sort, from Sindarin "aran", meaning king. Aravorn means "Dark/Black Lord", what Arahad means in unknown. LOL, I'm sure you wouldn't mind huggling the twins. Congrats to your friend, I hope she knows what she's getting into! Babies are little demons, mark my words... And yes, I DO mean that. Uhm, I should tell you what Elrond did? I'm sorry, I don't know either. You should go and ask him, I have no idea... *g* Thanks a lot for your reviews, btw! *huggles*
Elvenesse - I don't think they lost their lust for killling orcs either. I just figured they would have to ... well, get over it. Calm down a little, until they see that it's okay to kill orcs, but not at the cost of one's own life. That's my interpretation though. Sorry for keeping you waiting, again, but it wasn't my fault, honestly!
Maranwe1 - Hmm, to be perfectly honest it were two or three. In THOM, ch.2, in the beginning, when Elrohir and Elladan are talking about Elrond drugging Aragorn. I can't remember the exact words right now, but if you really want to know you can go back there and look it up. *g* And I know that it's not polite to keep secrets, but I can't tell you the word or Glorfindel would kill me. You don't want that, do you? Always remember that I have to remain alive to be able to update, okay? *g* Thank you, it's very nice of you to say that you like 'my' Glorfindel. I find him not easy to write, really. LOL, no, elf lords are never undignified. Never. *g* Nope, I never mentioned the song before, but they sung it all the time while they did ... well, the thing they did. I'm sorry, but that's another thing I can't tell you or Thranduil, Erestor, Elrond and Glorfindel would _all_ be after my blood. *shudders* Four angry elf lords... Thanks a lot for your long (and weird) review!
Sabercrazy - *hangs head* Every time I read that review I feel bad. As I said before: I'm sorry for not updating. I really am, it wasn't my fault. Great you like Glorfindel so much though, even he appears to be rather stunned. *pokes elf lord softly* Yup, definitely stunned, or frozen in fear, whatever. *g* Hmm, action for Glor and Elrond ... I have to admit not really. A bit for Glorfindel, perhaps - but hey! He will have some in To Walk in Night, promise! I might even put in some torture just for you! So, what do you think? *g*
Christine - *whispers* I think you scared them a little. Here! *hands her large net* Use this, it works just fine with elf princes and rangers... *winks* Thanks for your compliments and for your review in general!
Thanks a lot for all the reviews, even despite the fact that I didn't update for ages! You're very patient and understanding - thanks a lot!
A/N:
Well, it appears FF.net doesn't like my A/N. I had to remove them, sorry, but now the chapter looks much nicer. *shakes head* I really don't get FF.net sometimes. Anything else works, but as soon as I upload my previous A/N, it all goes bonkers. *shrugs* Sorry about that.
So, no A/N this time, don't blame me, blame FF.net.
Chapter 2
Three hours later, darkness had fallen, and the moon and the bright stars in the heavens cast a weak, somewhat sickly light onto the wooded lands. Dark clouds quickly neared the pale sickle of the moon, and soon even that light was extinguished when they shifted in front of it. The sparse light reflected off the stones of a cliff a little to the East of the small clearing the moon was overlooking, making them gleam white and grey and a dozen shades in between.
A dark haired elf tore his gaze away from the sky and scowled at his companions, another elf that looked almost exactly like him.
"Twenty, aye."
Elrohir gave him a slightly sheepish look and shrugged.
"But they were only half an hour ahead of us."
Elladan ignored his twin's words and gripped the trunk of the tree they had climbed a little more tightly.
"'About twenty' you said, 'there may be some wargs' you said…"
His younger brother rolled his eyes and looked down from their airy perch onto the small glade that lay beneath their tree. A squabbling, screaming mass of orcs was all he could see, and he had to admit that yes, there were definitely more than twenty. Not to mention the eight wargs that prowled around the throng of bodies.
"Stop whining, brother. All we have to do is wait; they are killing each other quickly enough already."
That was something Elladan had to agree with, no matter how reluctantly. They had been following the orc horde for some time when the sounds of a commotion in front of them prompted them to abandon their horses and continue on foot. While they had been moving stealthily through the treetops the sounds had grown louder and fiercer, and when they had reached this one tree they were occupying right now, they had found out why: The orcs were fighting each other and were doing a fine job diminishing their numbers for them.
It had taken them some time to find out what the argument was about, and it had not been easy to discern since orcs never needed much of a reason to start fighting, even among themselves. They often killed each other for the most ridiculous and stupidest reasons, but then again, orcs weren't known to be very clever either.
This fight seemed to have erupted when a few orcs had come across a small herd of deer, and had apparently killed three or four of them with their crude bows. How the orcs had managed to surprise the usually so vigilant animals was beyond both elves, and that they had hit the beasts was no smaller a miracle. Orc archers were usually not a big threat since they were lousy shots most of the time, and they rarely managed to hit anything that moved quickly and was not busy fighting off other members of the horde.
This time, however, they had somehow managed to shoot some of the animals, and while they seemed to have done it only for spite and because of their joy of killing, it soon became apparent that a part of them was unwilling to let such a wonderful opportunity for a meal pass them by. Some orcs had immediately begun to tear chunks of meat from the carcasses, eating them raw, but the captain of this group was anything but happy about their actions. It appeared that he wanted to have some fun tonight and wished to reach the human settlements before sunrise would force them back into their caves and holes, and soon a full-fledged fight was going on, with orcs dropping left and right.
From the original thirty orcs there were only about twenty left, and the fight showed no sign of abating. The orc captain had soon abandoned all attempts at calming his men down and had joined the fray, either because he had seen that the others wouldn't listen to him anyway, now that their blood lust was kindled – a feat that demanded some measure of intelligence and that was therefore highly doubted by both twins – or because he hadn't seen why his subordinates should have all the fun without him.
Either way, the orcs were rather busy killing each other for them, Elladan shrugged inwardly, so he wasn't complaining. He turned back to his brother, keeping his voice low so the orcs wouldn't hear them, even though it was probably not necessary for he very much doubted that they would have heard even a herd of oliphaunts running at top speed through the forest right now.
"I do not whine."
Elrohir rolled his eyes again, only to turn them back onto the scene beneath them. He was not taking any chances; he wouldn't let those who survived this little argument escape.
"Of course you do. That tone of voice clearly qualifies as whining."
"It does not."
"Yes, it does."
"No, it does not."
"Yes, it does…" Elrohir narrowed his eyes as the mob beneath them drew apart, the sharp voice of the orc captain yelling orders in the Black Speech of Mordor making both elves cringe. The sound rekindled the spark of burning fury in the younger twin's heart; to him it seemed only yesterday that he had heard shouts and dark laughter in that tongue that had almost been drowned out by his mother's anguished screams of pain…
"Elrohir? Brother?"
A slender hand grabbed his forearm, and the young elf blinked quickly, noticing for the first time that he had leaned forward and would have fallen from the branch both of them were sitting on had Elladan not held him back. He consciously unclenched his hands that had wrapped themselves around the smooth bark of the tree and his bow and looked at his brother, shaking his head to regain some semblance of control. Every time he saw one of these creatures a red haze seemed to lay itself over his vision, transporting him back to that orc cave where they had found their mother nearly a yén ago.
"I am fine," he assured the other elf softly, not trusting himself to speak calmly should he raise his voice even a little. His eyes grew hard and dark when he looked down onto the glade where the orcs were preparing to leave now. The captain had apparently regained control of his men who numbered only eighteen now, and the creatures were piling the ones who had perished in the fight up on one side of the clearing, not because they wanted to burn them or anything of that sort but because they were searching every body for something that may yet be of use for them.
"I am fine," Elrohir repeated, hatred blazing brightly in his usually calm grey eyes. "Let's kill them all."
Elladan smiled grimly, surveying the scene in front of them.
"A noble intention, brother, but I think we need a plan."
The other elf blinked again, looking slightly startled, before he nodded his head.
"That does sound like a sensible idea, gwanur nín. Do you have a suggestion?"
"I do," Elladan nodded, beginning to speak quickly when he saw that the orcs were almost ready to move out. "I distract them and you take out as many of their archers as you can before the wargs eat us both. We meet in the middle."
"Oh?" Elrohir raised a mocking eyebrow. "So you distract nineteen orcs while I try to kill as many of the seven archers that are still left as possible before both of us are torn to pieces by their little friends? Is that your master plan?"
His brother wrinkled his brow as if in deep thought.
"Essentially … yes."
"Ah," Elrohir nodded seriously before he began to grin darkly, "I like your style."
"You would," Elladan mumbled under his breath as they quickly began to descend the tree, cocking his head slightly to the side when he heard a faint rumbling in the distance. Well, if they were lucky they would be finished and on their way to the Last Bridge when the storm reached them. But then again, he grimaced slightly, they were never lucky.
They stopped on a branch about ten feet above the ground, watching the orc horde closely. Elrohir reached for an arrow and fitted it to his bow so he would be ready to take out the orcs' archers as soon as his brother started "distracting" them, whatever that might prove to mean exactly. He looked up into Elladan's serious face when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and smiled slightly when he saw the emotions on his brother's face. Nodding at what he saw on the other's face, he smiled slightly and gave Elladan a gentle push into the other direction.
"Go, brother. I would like to get this over with before they decide to leave."
Elladan nodded as well and smiled back, moving to the side of the branch and eyeing the tree next to him. He needed to move a little bit away from his brother before he made himself known to the creatures on the ground, or their entire plan would fail from the very beginning. Deciding on a sturdy branch about eight feet to the left of him, he quickly turned back to Elrohir, smiling at him.
"And it did not."
"Pardon me?" the other elf asked, clearly confused.
"My tone of voice did not qualify as whining."
With that he turned and jumped, landing soundlessly in the other tree and disappearing so quickly from sight that not even Elrohir could follow his movements for long.
The younger twin shook his head and returned his gaze to the orcs, knowing that Elladan would still be able to hear him, no matter how softly he spoke.
"Yes it did, brother, and you know it."
Glorfindel sat on the windowsill of his bed-chamber, watching the grey storm clouds that had gathered in the far distance. It was already quite late at night, and usually he would already be sleeping, for the coming day would be filled with paperwork since his lord had announced – in his opinion much too happily – that they would spend the day taking stock of Rivendell's supplies so they could replenish what they needed before the cold season began in earnest. It was already early November, and in the winter it would be a lot harder to get what they needed than now.
It was a reasonable idea – which, however, did not make it any more appealing to the golden haired elf – and Glorfindel also knew that Elrond was burying himself in his work to distract himself from the fact that his sons were out there, hunting orcs with Aravorn and his men. It was the Lord of Rivendell's instinctive reaction if faced with a problem, and Glorfindel respected that, but a small part of him still wished that Elrond could find other means of distracting himself, means that did not involve him, Glorfindel, or paperwork.
But despite all this he was still awake, and it was not only to watch the storm. He did like watching storms, he didn't really know himself why, but he didn't like it enough to chance provoking his lord's wrath because he was too tired to be of assistance tomorrow. No, he was still here, watching the thunderstorm – without a bottle of Dorwinion this time, however – because he was busy doing two things.
Firstly, he was trying not to think about the twins himself or the fact that he would most likely soon have to drag them back to Imladris, and secondly was he busy coming up with a way of exacting bloody revenge on Erestor for yesterday night. The dark haired elf had to pay, for no-one humiliated him, Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin, in front of his lord and the rest of Rivendell's population. Not to mention his lord's twin sons, with which he was back at the topic that worried him the most.
Glorfindel sighed. The twins. He very much doubted that he would ever see someone as stubborn as those two young ones. They were clearly their father's sons, and Celebrían hadn't exactly been what one would call "weak-willed" either. The golden haired elf smiled, lost in memory. No, the silver haired elf maiden had been anything but, as had been to be expected of a daughter of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn.
Glorfindel was sure that Celebrían's stubbornness had been the main thing that had caused Elrond to fall in love with her; the half-elf had finally found someone who was as headstrong as he. Galadriel's daughter was more subtle about it, and rather resorted to convincing people with that radiant smile of hers that was able to light up an entire room, but in truth she was just as bad as her husband, and ever since Elrond had sometime in the Second Age started talking about her with that particular dreamy expression on his face that could only be found on a fool's or a male's who had just met the embodiment of all his dreams, Glorfindel had known that he would be doomed should the two of them ever have children.
And he had been right, the golden haired elf nodded, the twins and Arwen were indeed among the most stubborn beings he had ever met. But this trait would prove to be their undoing yet, he admitted to himself, and there was nothing Elrond or he could do. His lord had been right; Elladan and Elrohir were old enough to decide their own fate, and they had to understand for themselves that their wild hatred would only get them killed. He didn't expect them to forget what had happened to their mother, of course not, but they had to stop seeking to destroy orcs wherever they could find them, regardless of their own safety.
The blonde elf sighed again, his eyes not really seeing the lightning that was beginning to light up the sky now. He didn't like being forced to do nothing, and he honestly couldn't see how Elrond could stand it. Well, he decided a little bit wryly, Imladris' Lord might be younger than he, but he was definitely more patient.
Tearing his thoughts away from this particularly displeasing subject, he once again began to think about what he could do to Erestor. Most of the ideas he had had were definitely unbecoming an elf lord, but for everything there were exceptions, and this was one of them. Erestor would find out why it wasn't a good idea to alienate him, he would make sure of that…
After some more minutes, Glorfindel stood to his feet, having come to the decision that he would need to give the matter considerable thought. Deciding that sleep would elude him this night whatever he did, he quickly walked over to his large bed and took up a shirt. He didn't really expect to see many elves at this time of night, but it would be highly inappropriate to appear in the corridors of the Last Homely House clad only in his breeches. A small, wicked smile spread on his face as he imagined a scenario involving a scantily clothed Erestor, Rivendell's population and general public humiliation. Oh yes, revenge was sweet indeed, and Erestor would find out about it first-hand, Eru help him!
He bound back his long hair with a leather strip, softly threatening the gleaming strands to shear them off if they didn't co-operate a little bit more in the near future, opened his door and turned into the direction of the Hall of Fire. Since the Lady's departure most elves were not feeling very cheerful anymore, and mostly because neither the Lord nor his sons were to be found in the large hall on the evenings the celebrations that had been held there were now few and not as joyous as they had once been. Elves mourned long and hard, and Celebrían's absence was still felt keenly by all of Rivendell's population.
Glorfindel entered the hall, finding it empty as he had expected. He didn't wish for company, and to sit in front of the fire and let its dancing flames soothe his troubled mind and help him come up with a way to avenge himself on Erestor was exactly what he needed right now. As he was about to settle down in a large, stuffed armchair in one of the corners, however, he noticed that he had been wrong: He was not alone.
Hidden in the shadows a little to his left he could see the still, motionless figure of his lord who seemed to be very busy staring into the flickering flames of the fire. All in all, it was a respectable occupation, especially since he himself had come here to do the same, but in his opinion Elrond's face was a little too dark and too sombre, even if one considered the shadows that were dancing across his face.
He took a few steps closer to the dark haired elf and, when Elrond failed to acknowledge him, laid a hand on his shoulder.
"My lord?"
To his credit, Elrond did not jump when he heard his advisor's soft voice, but it was obviously a near thing. His head whipped to the right, but his body relaxed after a few moments when he saw who it was that had interrupted his reverie. Glorfindel frowned slightly and narrowed his blue eyes. If his friend really hadn't heard his approach, he had been deep in thought indeed.
The Lord of Rivendell smiled at the other elf, a smile that looked more than a little bit strained and did not reach his eyes.
"Glorfindel. Sleep is eluding you as well, I see?"
The golden haired elf returned the smile and sat down next to the other elf onto the wooden bench he was occupying, not waiting to be invited to do so. Elrond needed someone to talk to, even if that stubborn half-elf didn't realise it himself.
"My being is overcome with terror at the prospect of the coming day, mellon nín," he told him in a confidential tone of voice. "I would rather face another of Morgoth's balrogs than taking stock of our supplies."
That statement brought a real smile to the dark haired elf's lips, and Glorfindel thought that, for this alone, a sleepless night had been well worth it.
"So we have found a challenge that raises fear in the mighty balrog slayer!"
"Nay, my lord," Glorfindel shook his head. "No fear. Only terror."
Elrond shook his head and leaned back against the wall, eyes once again straying to the dancing flames of the fire. Glorfindel watched him for a while with his head cocked to the side, and finally came to the conclusion that the dark haired elf wouldn't tell him anything on his own.
"And why are you here?"
The other elf didn't answer, although Glorfindel was sure that he had heard him, and merely continued staring straight ahead. After a moment he opened his mouth to speak, eyes dark and overcome with memories.
"It is dark."
Glorfindel blinked, the question of whether Elrond had lost his mind briefly flickering through his mind, but when he looked closer, he could see in the other's eyes that his friend was not only talking about the room they were in at the moment.
"It is dark, yes," he agreed quietly.
Elrond ignored him and continued, so softly that Glorfindel would nearly have missed his words.
"All is dark since she left, Glorfindel, it is as if the sun has sunken never to return. Without her presence night has fallen and these halls are empty and dark, and no light shines through this darkness that has laid itself over our home without her laughter."
The blonde elf shook his head sadly, not able to imagine the sorrow his friend had to feel.
"You will see her again, mellon nín. She is waiting for you on the shores of Aman, and one day you and I will set sail to the West where she is awaiting your arrival."
"Aye," Elrond nodded bitterly, "One day. But not one day soon." He raised a hand to interrupt his friend who had just opened his mouth to say something. "No, my friend, I have seen it. It will be a long time before I will journey to the Havens, and I can only hope that I will leave behind a world that is free and safe, ruled by my brother's heirs; not a world that is covered in darkness and shadow and under the dominion of the Dark One, and yet there does my foresight fail me. I do not know which side will prevail, and that makes it even harder, in a way."
Glorfindel didn't like his friend's dark tone one bit, and he reached out and grasped his forearm, causing the dark haired elf to look at him in mild surprise.
"Never forget the one thing that matters, my friend. You will see her again, no matter how long it will take. She is happy where she is now and will be waiting for you until the ends of time if she has to; you know how stubborn your Celebrían is." Elrond smiled at that, inclining his head slightly, and Glorfindel continued, a small smile playing about his lips as well. "When our time here comes to an end, you, your children and I will pass into the West, and all of you will be reunited. All will be well."
"She is stubborn, that is correct," the dark haired elf agreed after a small pause, a smile on his lips as he remembered an event from the past. "Alas, so are her sons."
"Now, my friend," Glorfindel smiled, "Do not try to shift the blame on your poor wife. How else could they have turned out to be with you as their father?"
Elrond gave his advisor a smug look, looking remarkably like one of his sons for a moment.
"Other than handsome, intelligent, brave, wise, graceful, patient and kind?"
The golden haired rolled his eyes.
"Those weren't exactly the words I was looking for."
"I cannot imagine why not," the Lord of Imladris retorted, but a moment later the lightheartedness disappeared from his face. "Do you remember what I told you earlier today?"
A strange feeling appeared in Glorfindel's heart and he narrowed his eyes, looking at the other elf intently.
"Which part of our conversation are you referring to?"
"The part where I told you that, one day, they would not be coming back."
The blonde elf's eyes widened, and he felt his heart freeze in his chest. Elbereth, Elrond couldn't mean that… He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart.
"Have you … foreseen something?"
He almost closed his eyes as he was waiting for an answer. Elrond's gift – or curse – of foresight was formidable, and if he had seen his sons' death, it would most likely come to pass, just like so many things before…
"No."
The softly spoken word let the blonde elf almost sink backwards against the wall in relief, and he had to resist the temptation of wiping his brow to get rid of the very un-elf-lordly sweat that had accumulated there. The Valar be praised…
"But," Elrond continued, "There is something out there, a shadow, a threat, whatever you want to call it. It has been growing in my mind ever since they left, and I fear that they have once again found the trouble they crave. Yet this time, I feel that it may be more than they can handle."
Glorfindel nodded, his thoughts already several miles away. He rose and nodded again, about to turn to the hall's exit.
"I will assemble a guard contingent; even at this time of night there should be more than enough volunteers. We can be gone in half an hour if we hurry, and…"
Elrond smiled slightly and shook his head, looking at the tall blonde elf that stood in front of him. Glorfindel was indeed his best and most loyal friend, and none did he trust more or more unconditionally since he had lost Elros and Gil-galad. And yet, even despite the millennia the golden haired elf had already walked on this world or spent in the Halls of Mandos, he was still rather impulsive – which he would deny if faced with that accusation, for elf lords were of course not impulsive – and did what his heart told him.
"No, mellon nín," he shook his head and looked at the other elf earnestly, "None of my guards will leave this night, and you least of all." When Glorfindel merely looked at him with a frown on his face, he added, "The storm is growing stronger in the West; it is not safe outside of our borders now."
"But…" Glorfindel began, only to be interrupted again by his lord.
"No, Glorfindel. I will not risk the lives of several others for two elves, even if they are my sons, and that because of a vague foreboding that could mean nothing."
The blonde elf studied his lord's eyes and quickly saw that nothing save a direct order by one of the Valar would be able to change Elrond's mind now. With a sigh he admitted defeat and sat down again.
"Is it, Elrond? Is it a vague foreboding and nothing more?"
Elrond's face darkened, and he looked to the floor, shadows dancing across his features.
"No," he admitted softly, "It is not. It is as strong and urgent as few others I have received in the past, but that changes nothing. The risk is still too great, and all we can do is pray to the Valar that both of them are clever enough not to go looking for trouble." He saw the slightly rebellious look on his advisor's face and added, looking up at him again, "If I still feel the same tomorrow morning you may leave at sunrise. Will that satisfy you?"
"No," Glorfindel shook his head, a resigned smile on his face, "But it will have to do, my lord." He looked into the grey eyes of his friend that were almost black with worry and suppressed fear now, and told him, partly to reassure himself, "They will be fine. We will probably find them in the rangers' camp, unscathed and mocking poor Arahad about his infatuation with his young son."
"Yes," Elrond agreed, giving him a forced smile, "You are probably right, my friend."
The two elf lords looked at each other, both fervently trying to believe what they had just said, but both knowing deep in their hearts that it was not so. Elrond broke the almost uncomfortable silence first and leaned back against the smooth stones of the wall.
"Tell me then," he began, raising a dark eyebrow, "What it is you are planning for my dear chief counsellor?"
Glorfindel looked back at him, displaying an expression of aggrieved innocence. If Elrond wanted to change the subject, he was more than willing to oblige. It would help no-one if they drove each other mad with worry about these irresponsible, insolent little elflings.
"Planned? I? For Erestor?"
Elrond began to smile, a smile that lit up his whole face.
"Please, my friend, this look does not suit you. I know that you are planning something."
"Another vision of the future?" Glorfindel teased gently.
"You could say that," Elrond nodded. "Tell me then, or I will have to order you to."
"You would do that?" Glorfindel exclaimed in mock horror. "What a terribly disgraceful thing to do, to exploit your status to obtain information!"
"It is you who keeps insisting that elf lords do not appear clueless in public," Elrond reproached, his smile widening. "Besides, planning to do something to a fellow lord I am not yet sure I really want to know is nothing I would call befitting an elf lord!"
His blonde advisor closed his mouth he had opened for a scathing reply. Well, the dark haired elf was right about that…
"Very well," he relented. "To my shame I have to admit that I haven't planned anything yet."
"No?" Elrond arched an eyebrow incredulously.
"No," Glorfindel replied almost testily, "I have not. I do not plan such things very often."
The smile on Elrond's face grew to improbable dimensions, and he leaned forward, grey eyes twinkling now.
"Ah, I believe I can be of assistance here."
Now it was Glorfindel's turn to arch an eyebrow.
"You, my lord?"
Elrond even looked somewhat hurt and offended.
"Of course. I had a twin brother for nearly five hundred years after all; I know everything about revenge, believe me."
"Then, my lord," the other elf inclined his head, "I will gladly accept your generous offer. May we think of something that will teach that scoundrel to prey on unsuspecting elves who only want to enjoy their evening in peace and tranquillity!"
"If I remember correctly, my dear advisor," Elrond interjected dryly, "It was you who wrote that particular word on his forehead."
"A mere detail," Glorfindel brushed the younger elf's objection aside. There it was again, the word. He really needed to find out what it had been; every elf he had questioned had feigned ignorance and had disappeared as quickly as possible, wearing a smug grin one might add. "The entire thing was his fault and he must pay."
"Very well, mellon nín," Elrond conceded, "You have no ideas then?"
"The terms 'disgrace', 'public humiliation' and 'pain' come to mind now that you mention it," Glorfindel said slowly, the wicked grin spreading once again on his face as he remembered the small vision he had had earlier, and his lord listened to his ideas, clearly amused by most of them.
The thought of the twins never left his or Elrond's mind, but the enjoyable conversation helped to push it back for a little while and make the long wait that lay ahead until a search party could leave the Last Homely Home a bit more bearable.
Together the two elf lords spent the rest of the evening in the Hall of Fire, blonde and dark head huddled together as they planned something that could only be described as unbefitting two elf lords of their status, but right then, neither of them cared.
There were exceptions to every rule, after all.
A few dozen leagues to the west, Elrohir was just ducking under a blow that had been aimed at his head, coming back up in time to see the stupid expression on the orc's face when it stared at its scimitar and tried to come up with a reason why it hadn't hit its intended target.
The elven twin took another step to the side and brought his own blade down, cleanly cleaving the creature's head from its shoulders. The orc's body remained upright for a few seconds, frozen in place, before it tumbled to the earth, its black blood colouring the grass a sickening brown.
Elrohir wasn't there to observe this, however, since he had spun on his heel and moved to the left to escape the crude spear another orc had thrust at him. While he was trying to avoid getting skewered by this new foe, Elrohir tried to find out when and at which point their plan had gone so terribly wrong.
'That would be the beginning,' a voice in his head supplied as the younger twin danced to the side, avoiding the weapon that had nearly been thrust into his stomach a second ago. Indeed, it had gone wrong from the very beginning…
He didn't blame his brother's plan, because, considering the circumstances, it had been a rather good one. Not by any means perfect, no, but it had been sensible enough in his opinion. What had spoiled the whole thing, however, had been the storm, or more precisely, thunder and lightning. Loud thunder had clapped and lightning had lit up the sky in the exact moment that Elladan had leapt down from his tree to "distract" the horde, causing the orcs to look up in sudden fright. That by itself would not have been too alarming, for they would have noticed the elf anyway a moment or two later, but they also had seen him, Elrohir, where he had been edging forward to have more space to fire his arrows.
Half the horde had still been distracted by Elladan who had drawn as many of the orcs as possible away from the centre of the glade, and Elrohir had therefore had enough time to loosen four arrows which all found their targets in the necks of four orc archers, but the remaining three had recovered quickly enough from their shock of seeing an elf sitting in a tree above their heads to shower the spot where he had sat with arrows.
The only option the younger elven twin had had left had been to drop down from the tree and join his brother on the ground, relying on his sword and long knife to discourage any orc that might feel the urge to come too close to him.
What really bothered him though, Elrohir decided as he narrowly escaped the spear again, were the wargs. He had always hated these creatures with a passion, and now was not the time he felt inclined to let go of that feeling. Orcs were for the most part clumsy and slow adversaries who could be avoided with the greatest of ease unless there were so many that they closed off your every escape, but wargs were an entirely different story.
They were much bigger and intelligent than their wild cousins, the wolves, and a lot stronger as well. They had learned to work together to bring down their prey, and that was exactly what was causing problems for him and his twin.
Elrohir finally managed to dispatch the orc that had been doing its best in the past few minutes to impale him on its spear, and jumped up into the air just in time to avoid the teeth of a warg that had sneaked up on them and had been about to sink its fangs into the flesh of his leg.
The dark haired elf landed soundlessly a foot away from the beast, turned and thrust his dagger deeply into the animal's throat before it could react. The warg collapsed, twitching spasmodically, giving Elrohir enough time to regain his bearings.
Running up to him were two orcs, their hideous faces contorted into angry masks and their weapons raised high up into the air. One of them brandished a scimitar of the sort that the orcs forged themselves, crude and evil-looking like everything their race made, while the other held a broadsword which the creature had probably stolen from a human that had fallen victim to them.
That was another thing that was to be heeded when one was fighting orcs, he thought idly, turning slightly to the left to look for his brother, orcs were never armed uniformly, for they used all kinds of weapons which they pilfered and stole from the bodies of those unfortunate enough to cross their way. For inexperienced warriors it was rather hard to adapt to having to fight the most different types of weapons at the same time, something that could only be remedied by much training and exercise.
Wrenching his thoughts away from that, Elrohir noticed that the two orcs were only a few yards away now and quickly looked around for his brother. After a fraction of a second he found him, busy fending off several orcs and wargs. Elladan was only a blur of long hair and gleaming blades, his face hard and emotionless and his eyes shining brightly with something that could only be described as blood lust.
There were about eight orcs left, including two archers, and four wargs, if he had counted correctly. And two of these orcs, he added somewhat wryly, were just rushing up to him, murderous intent shining brightly in their yellowish eyes. Elrohir side-stepped at the last possible moment and let the orcs rush past him, using the opportunity to lash out at one of them. A dark smile curved his lips when he heard the creature's unearthly howl of pain, but the orc didn't fall to the ground and seemed to regain its wits in time to wheel around with its companion.
Elrohir frowned and narrowed his eyes when he realised that his blow hadn't killed the orc. Glorfindel would have his head if he heard about it, he decided sheepishly, the ancient elf had always told him to take more time before striking out at an adversary. And Elladan would probably dissolve into giggles after scowling at him and lecturing him about his carelessness, provided that both of them survived this little skirmish, of course…
Elrond's younger son shifted his stance slightly, sighing loudly when he saw that two wargs were giving up their circling of the group which his brother was fighting right now and were coming his way, quickly. He really, really, disliked wargs. But then again, the more the foul creatures concentrated on him, the less trouble would his twin have, so it was well worth it.
Elrohir took a step forwards when the two orcs rushed up to him and blocked one of them with his sword and the other with his knife, cursing inwardly when he realised that the wargs were almost upon them. He was forced to give way and to move to the East of the clearing, still busy fending off the orcs and now the two wargs that had decided to join the fray.
While he was slowly being pushed away from the clearing and forced to move backwards through the thick undergrowth, Elrohir gave an annoyed growl, lifting his eyes to the cloudy heaven where lightning could be seen in increasingly short intervals.
Elbereth Gilthoniel, what else could possibly go wrong?
As if to answer the young elf's question, the heavens promptly opened and heavy rain began to fall, so heavy that it immediately lowered the visibility to a few feet. Elrohir's eyes grew wide, and he fought the almost irresistible urge to throw his hands up in despair.
What a terribly stupid question that had been.
At the same time, Elladan was thoroughly annoyed.
Annoyed with the orcs that were trying to cut him into little pieces, annoyed with the orc that had managed to slice his left arm open, annoyed with the wargs that seemed more than willing to eat said little pieces, annoyed with the rain, annoyed with the fact that he could no longer see his twin even though he could still hear him fighting a bit away from the clearing, and, most of all, annoyed with himself.
Here one could see again why Elrohir was the one whose plans were successful, because he was more patient and took more time to judge a situation. His wonderful master plan had gone wrong from the very beginning, and Elladan would have hit himself hadn't he been so busy trying to keep his adversaries away from him.
Elladan moved quickly to the right and thrust his sword into the other direction at the same time, managing to hit the spot beneath the orc's arm where its armour was weak and driving his blade right into its heart, if creatures such as these even had things like hearts. The goblin dropped to the ground, dead before its body touched the earth the rain was quickly turning into mud, therefore bringing the number of his attackers down to three, not counting the one warg that was still trying to snap at his legs, obviously having decided that the elf looked far tastier than the multitude of orc bodies that littered the ground.
Actually, he was doing quite well if one ignored that little cut on his arm, Elladan decided with a small, reckless smile, lifting his sword a little as the remaining orcs looked at each other, obviously trying to figure out what to do. The fact that the orc he had just killed had been the captain properly didn't help them to make a decision either, and the elf was suddenly very glad that he had killed it.
The orcs' leader had been a strong, dark skinned and determined adversary, and in his opinion more dangerous than the whole lot of his subordinates. He heard a piercing wail somewhere to his left, and smiled darkly when he realised that Elrohir must just have killed another warg. That left only the one that was looking as if it seriously contemplated flight now if he had counted correctly, plus his own three enemies and the two orcs Elrohir was still facing. All in all, it was looking rather good, considering that they had started with about thirty orcs and eight wargs…
Elladan moved into an attack position, appearing next to one of the remaining orcs before the creature had time to even blink or turn its head fully into his direction. The elf's dagger gleamed when another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and a second later the orc joined his dead companions on the ground, its throat slit cleanly from one of the creature's punctured and disfigured ears to the other.
The torrential rain almost immediately washed off all of the dark blood that clung to the elder twin's knife, and he raised his eyes from where he had watched the bright steel to meet the orcs' now rather frightened eyes, although a crazed glint was still hidden in their gazes. Elladan felt how the satisfaction he felt every time he killed one of these monsters grew in his heart, and the echo of his mother's cries that had resounded in his mind ever since he had laid eyes on the orcs stilled somewhat, even though it didn't fade entirely. It never faded completely, not even when he was asleep; he was never able to forget the sounds of his mother's torment…
His eyes darkened even further at these thoughts and a cold fury seemed to emanate from the elf's lithe body, almost tangible in its intensity. The orcs looked at each other, their stupid faces confused, and together they decided that their companions' death wasn't worth getting killed for by this apparently crazy elf.
One of the two, an archer that had displayed a certain unwillingness to get involved in the fighting – something that suggested a certain level of intelligence on his part – turned and raced away, heading for the sounds of his fighting companions somewhere close to the cliff that dropped off sharply in the East. It was definitely a cleverer thing to do than to try and run past the elf in front of them, which was exactly what the other orc attempted to do. Before he had even taken more than a few steps, the dark haired elf moved with incredible speed, his whole body only a blur, and the dark creature fell to the ground, eyes wide and unseeing.
Elladan looked down on the orc for a second, sheathing his knife, before he looked up, just in time to see the only remaining warg slowly inch backwards, its tail between its legs. When it had gained some distance, it wheeled around and disappeared between the dark trees as fast as its four legs would carry it.
Well, he wouldn't miss the beast, that much was sure.
Elrond's oldest son shrugged slightly, wiped a strand of dripping wet dark hair out of his eyes and took off into the direction the other orc had taken. He had to help his brother and then they could both leave this place behind and find something where it was nice and warm, and, most of all, dry. Elladan pushed through the dense undergrowth, easily following the sounds of fighting, the light his elven body produced the only thing except the flashing lightning to light his way. That was just their kind of luck, he decided, to be caught in the worst thunderstorm of this century. Suddenly he was very glad that Arwen wasn't coming home this winter; the mere thought of his little sister trapped in such a weather on the mountain pass of Caradhras or anywhere else for that matter was enough to send shivers down his spine.
A second later he left the trees behind and stepped out into the open. In front of him, Elrohir was just fighting the last of the orcs that was still alive, a big, burly creature that wielded a broadsword rather skilfully. The bodies of two wargs and another orc were lying somewhere to his right, all in various states of bloodiness, and behind his brother he could see the edge of the cliff, the stones gleaming white in the light of the lightning.
Elrohir noticed the gently glowing figure of his brother as he stepped into the open, and gave him a small smile while he danced to the side to avoid being cut in two. 'How typical,' he thought annoyed, 'I get to fight the biggest and most skilful orcs while my dear brother gets to slay the rest. It is simply not fair…'
These thoughts were quickly forgotten when the orc in front of him stumbled over a tree root that protruded a little from the ground and tumbled forwards, nearly knocking the younger twin off his feet. Elrohir was quick enough to twist his body to the side while he was pushed back, and he managed to free himself of his adversary's body and dive to the side a mere three feet away from the cliff's edge. The orc who had nearly fallen over the precipice needed some more time to regain its bearing, time it did not have when fighting an elven warrior. Elrohir was upon him before the creature could even turn around fully, and a second later the large orc's body hit the muddy ground, the dark haired elf's sword protruding from its ribcage.
The younger twin barely gave the orc he had just killed another look and wrenched his sword from its body, sheathing it in the same, fluent movement. He took a small step forward, grinning at his brother who was just coming closer and inwardly deciding that he could actually hear water slosh around in his quiver. He ran a hand through his dark hair, finding it so wet that he could have come out of a lengthy bath for all he knew. Oh yes. The Valar had ways of proving uncannily that it could always get worse.
Elladan grinned at his twin, grey eyes twinkling.
"Are you finished playing? Honestly, while you were dancing around with your friends here I killed about half a dozen over there!"
"Are we comparing our kills?" Elrohir grimaced. "If so, dear brother, I am afraid that you will be surprised, because…"
He never got to finish that sentence, for a small, almost undetectable movement to his brother's left caught his eye and he moved to the right, narrowing his eyes slightly. Elladan had not seen it, but a small noise, like feet shifting on fallen leaves, alerted him that they were not alone. He whirled to the left, thinking that perhaps the warg had returned, but it was too late. A moment too late he realised that it was not the warg, but the more intelligent orc that had fled from him, the only remaining archer of the group. The orc archer that was aiming at his twin right now.
He didn't even have time to move an inch into the orc's direction before his keen elven ears detected the swishing sound of an arrow that was being fired, and he turned just in time to see the projectile burrow itself in his twin's shoulder. Elrohir's head shot up with a start, eyes wide and unbelieving as the force of the impact propelled him backwards.
Elladan was already running toward his brother before he had fully realised what was happening, a strange shout ringing through the air he couldn't remember uttering, but even in the moment he broke into his desperate run he knew that he would be too late. Under normal circumstances Elrohir might have had a chance to stop his momentum or to gain a foothold, but the ground was sodden and muddy and too slippery for any such action.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion to Elladan, and so he saw clearly how his younger brother's body reeled with the impact and was pushed backwards as if struck by an invisible fist. Elrohir's hands flew immediately to the dark shaft that had hit him in the right shoulder, and his eyes fastened on his twin's as he was pushed into the direction of the cliff's edge.
Elladan gave an extra burst of speed in the irrational hope to reach Elrohir in time, looking with wild, desperate eyes at his brother's identical grey orbs that were full of pain, fear and regret.
"Elrohir!! No!!"
Another shout rang out, a part of his brain this time clearly identifying it as his, but Elladan paid it no heed. All he could see were the wide, amazingly calm eyes of his twin that rolled back into his head as shock set in and he stumbled backwards, falling over the edge of the cliff and disappearing from view.
TBC...
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years
gwanur nín - my (twin) brother
mellon nín - my friend
It seems that, somehow, their luck is just as bad as Aragorn's or Legolas'. Must be genetic, really... *g* Oh, I kind of forgot to warn you of the cliffy, right? I'm sorry, really... *evil grin* Whether it's going to be a cliff-hanger or a cliff-faller (see, I have learned from my last story! *g*) we'll see on Thursday, I think. What do you think? Reviews of course encourage me and are generally appreciated. So: Review? Please?
Additional A/N:
Firnsarnien - LOL, so any elf pain and angst will do? Well, if that's the case you're just right here, of course... *evil grin* I guess you're right, in the end Estel will lighten their spirits, but this is taking place about three-hundred years before his birth, so he won't be in here. Sorry. *shrugs* You can't have everything, right?
Nikara - *hangs head in shame* Well, I was planning to update this more frequently! I really was, but fate or evil telephone company people didn't let me... Great you like Glorfindel, I love him too! He's adorable! *huggles him* And I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to tell you more about the word. Sorry. *g*
Iverson - I know what you mean, my sister and I do that all the time as well. She's clearly not listening when I'm taling to her and yet insists that she was! It's so infuriating! *grrrrr* What do you mean? *innocently* I? Devised injuries for whom? I don't know what you're talking about! I would never hurt them - or would I? Hmm, my alter ego might... *g* We'll see...
Mouse5 - *singing* I'll never tell, I'll never tell... Sorry, but there's really no way I'm telling you what Glorfindel wrote on Erestor's forehead. I'm not suicidal, you know, and after a balrog that elf would have no trouble killing ME... You want me to write a story about Glorfindel? Just about him? Hmm, tough one... *g*
Kaeera - *zufriedenes Grinsen* Na, magst' meine Wortkreation? Das ist doch schoen zu hoeren... *g* Und recht hast du: Comic relief ist ja was schoenes, aber sie sind erwachsene Elben, um Himmels Willen! Sie haben doch ganz andere Probleme, nech? Ich find' es echt toll, dass dir die kleine Geschichte gefaellt, und noch mal grosses Entschuldigung wegen der Verspaetung. Alles die Schuld der Telekom, ehrlich. Nun aber haelt mich nichts mehr auf, und die naechsten Kapitel gehen ganz schnell! Hoch und heilig versprochen!
Alisha B - *nods* It's always like that... just like when a boy is interested in you. I'm always the last person to notice anything... *coughs* Okay, got a little distracted here... *g* I'm very sorry to hear that RL is out there to get you, and also sorry that I didn't make it on Thanksgiving. All the phone company's fault, really. And you cut yourself AGAIN? Girl, I swear you're just as bad as Estel! *shakes head*
Firniswin - This almost made you cry? Oh, then just you wait ... in later chapters it get much worse, really.... *trails off evilly* Great you like the story even though there is no Estel and/or Legolas, thanks a lot for the review!
Aratfeniel - LOL, 'trouble, blood and other stuff'? Well, there's not ALWAYS trouble, blood and other stuff in my stories... *trails off at incredulous looks that readers give her* Well, alright, perhaps you're right. But only a little. And not that much blood. *g*
JustJordy - Uhm, huh? I should finish THOM? I'm sorry to say that, but it's finished. Did you mean To Walk in Nigh, whose acronym is TWIN, as I have just discovered? If that's the case you don't have to worry, since this story here is already finished. I wrote it before I even started with TWIN (*giggles at name*), I don't write more than one story on principle. Well, be that as it may, thanks for the review! Great to hear that you like this story as well!
CrazyLOTRfan - Wow, you're up at three-thirty in the morning? Shoo, off to bed! *g* Well, anyway, it's always nice to get a review from you, the insane...sorry, the mentally unstable Canadian girl! *huggles* Thanks!
Websterans - *g* Thank you! I could in fact not write an entirely serious scene to save my life, but that's another story. *g* Well, the song was something Thranduil, Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel were singing when Thranduil was visiting Imladris with his father Oropher to discuss matters of state with Elrond and Gil-galad, before the Last Alliance. It was something that happened (via a flashback) in "The Heart of Men", my previous story. And about the word ... well, I'm not telling! Glorfindel would kill me and I'm not yet ready to die... *g*
Mystic Girl1 - Du liest meine Kapitel in der Schule! Ich bin entsetzt! Als ICH noch in der Schule war, in MEINER Jugend, da waere so was nie passiert! Schande ueber dich! *g* Tja, so wie Glorfindel haben wir uns doch alle schon mal gefuehlt - so wie ich vor ner Weile, als ich nach eine, wilden LotR-Abend um 4 h nachts auf einem Freund aufwachte - Gott sei Dank vollkommen bekleidet. Da hatte ich echt fuer ein paar Momente Panik bekommen... *g* Okay. Wie auch immer. LOL, das mit den Zielscheieben waere ja wirklich noch das Tuepfelchen auf dem I. *rot werd* Na, meine Geschichten sind nicht IMMER grossartig. Aber trotzdem Danke. *g* Und du hast die anderen beiden wirklich ausgedruckt? Na, dann muss dein Drucker echt besser sein als meiner...
YunaDax - *looks at this chapter* Uhm, yes, I guess we do have a litle fighting in here. And a bit of angst, as well, yes... I'm sorry for not updating any sooner, but there was really no way for me to do so. I hope this is still soon enough, thanks for the review!
Suzi9 - Oh, you don't have to apologise to ME. I KNOW how evil phone companies can be, and I've had some first hand encounters with BT myself. They're just as evil as the people here, and THAT means something in my opinion. *g* And your review wasn't short! I was rather long, really! I mean it! I guess you're right, it's hard to find fics that are not based on Aragorn and/or Legolas. I don't get it myself, since I adore the twins, and I would write more twinfics myself if I had the time, which I don't, unfortunately. Hmm, what do I know about Nero ... Nero Claudius Caesar, born I think 37, adopted son of Claudius, became Emperor in 54 till 68. Allegedly burned Rome, which he didn't. Poisoned his brother, murdered his mother and several wives etc. etc. Not much more without looking it up, I fear... Not that it's still of any interest to you now.. *g* *excited* Really? I can hire the chariot? Great! I name the dragon Drákon, what do you think? It's just Greek, but...
Jazmin3 Firewing - Well, yeah, you're right. Let's just assume that the twins were there right after the birth when poor Arahad was still a little bit stunned, okay? *g* And I would love to meet Finarfen. I think he/she would get along just great with Stan, my balrog. He's quite sweet, really.
Seveawen - So, as I said in the A/N, I didn't make the rangers up, that's all Tolkien. "Ara-" means "kingly" or something of that sort, from Sindarin "aran", meaning king. Aravorn means "Dark/Black Lord", what Arahad means in unknown. LOL, I'm sure you wouldn't mind huggling the twins. Congrats to your friend, I hope she knows what she's getting into! Babies are little demons, mark my words... And yes, I DO mean that. Uhm, I should tell you what Elrond did? I'm sorry, I don't know either. You should go and ask him, I have no idea... *g* Thanks a lot for your reviews, btw! *huggles*
Elvenesse - I don't think they lost their lust for killling orcs either. I just figured they would have to ... well, get over it. Calm down a little, until they see that it's okay to kill orcs, but not at the cost of one's own life. That's my interpretation though. Sorry for keeping you waiting, again, but it wasn't my fault, honestly!
Maranwe1 - Hmm, to be perfectly honest it were two or three. In THOM, ch.2, in the beginning, when Elrohir and Elladan are talking about Elrond drugging Aragorn. I can't remember the exact words right now, but if you really want to know you can go back there and look it up. *g* And I know that it's not polite to keep secrets, but I can't tell you the word or Glorfindel would kill me. You don't want that, do you? Always remember that I have to remain alive to be able to update, okay? *g* Thank you, it's very nice of you to say that you like 'my' Glorfindel. I find him not easy to write, really. LOL, no, elf lords are never undignified. Never. *g* Nope, I never mentioned the song before, but they sung it all the time while they did ... well, the thing they did. I'm sorry, but that's another thing I can't tell you or Thranduil, Erestor, Elrond and Glorfindel would _all_ be after my blood. *shudders* Four angry elf lords... Thanks a lot for your long (and weird) review!
Sabercrazy - *hangs head* Every time I read that review I feel bad. As I said before: I'm sorry for not updating. I really am, it wasn't my fault. Great you like Glorfindel so much though, even he appears to be rather stunned. *pokes elf lord softly* Yup, definitely stunned, or frozen in fear, whatever. *g* Hmm, action for Glor and Elrond ... I have to admit not really. A bit for Glorfindel, perhaps - but hey! He will have some in To Walk in Night, promise! I might even put in some torture just for you! So, what do you think? *g*
Christine - *whispers* I think you scared them a little. Here! *hands her large net* Use this, it works just fine with elf princes and rangers... *winks* Thanks for your compliments and for your review in general!
Thanks a lot for all the reviews, even despite the fact that I didn't update for ages! You're very patient and understanding - thanks a lot!