Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.
A/N:
Okay, I'll say it here again: I will not, I repeat, NOT tell anyone anything about the word. I'm very sorry, but I really don't want one or two elf lords out there after my blood, my life is stressful enough as it is, thank you very much. *g* So, sorry about that, but you'll have to be patient for a little bit longer - okay, make that quite a bit longer... *evil grin*
It's also nice to hear that you enjoyed my little cliffy - yes, I let my alter ego out to play again, I admit it. But she gets really unhappy if I keep her locked away in the basement - besides, there is rat poison there, and I would truly hate to see what that would do to her already more than unstable and evil mind. *g* So, I hope you understand, and the cliffy wasn't THAT bad anyway, even though the twins and especially Elrohir might think differently. *shrugs* What do they know anyway?
Okay, enough of the mindless blabber and on to the chapter! Let's see, we have ... a very, very worried elder elven twin, a very, very unconscious younger elven twin, several elf lords that find themselves in situations they would rather NOT be in and the ultimate proof that rock faces/cliffs/etc. hate elves. Fun all around, eh? *g*
Enjoy and review, please!
Chapter 3
Elladan slid a few more feet before he came to a full stop. He felt suddenly cold, paralysingly cold, a feeling that had nothing to do with the rain and cold that surrounded him, only two thoughts warring for domination on his mind.
There was the powerful, nearly all-dominating urge to cross the distance to the cliff and get to Elrohir, to get to him now, but a second, even more urgent thought made him move to the side and turn around as quickly as possible. Even though everything in him told him to get to his brother, a more sensible part of his mind, the part that had been trained in warfare and survival for more than two thousand years, insisted that he killed the orc, or he wouldn't be able to help Elrohir.
Whirling back towards the wood, he reached for an arrow and notched it faster than a mortal's eye could follow. Letting the projectile fly, he turned back to cliff, not even bothering to wait and see if it had hit its intended target. This one time, the arrow had been there before he had fired it. No-one hurt his brother and lived to tell the tale.
Skidding to a halt next to the cliff's edge, he fell to his knees and grabbed a large stone with his left hand to avoid falling over the precipice as well, wincing inwardly when he felt the cut in his arm protest. The wound started to hurt now, badly, but he ignored it resolutely as he leaned over the edge.
"Elrohir!!"
The desperate cry was torn from his lips by the howling wind and swiftly carried away, and the dark haired elf felt as if the slowly fading echoes mocked and taunted him. Elladan leaned forward a bit more, staring intently down into the dark chasm.
"Elrohir! Brother, can you hear me?"
The thickly falling rain made it hard for him to see anything, and the growing panic that was beginning to envelop his entire being did nothing to help his concentration either. Elladan's elven eyes had a hard time piercing the shrouding darkness, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw a tiny, grey-clad figure, about sixty feet below him. A tiny, twisted and frighteningly unmoving figure that looked disconcertingly like his twin.
'Ilúvatar, no…' A cold, icy fist reached into his chest and began to crush his heart. It couldn't be, it just couldn't end like this!
"Elrohir!" he called again, gripping the stone he held harder. "Elrohir!! Can you hear me? Answer me, you stubborn elf!"
Nothing but the howling of the wind answered him, and Elladan felt how the panic inside of him even grew. He could see that his twin didn't move, and that was probably quite a good thing, too. Elrohir was lying on a ledge half-way down the cliff face that wasn't bigger than a few metres in diameter, the left side of his body hanging over the edge. If he had landed half a metre to the left, he would have fallen another forty feet, and that was something he definitely wouldn't have survived in his present condition.
With an obvious effort, Elladan shook his head, reluctantly accepting a few facts. First, that there was no way of finding out if Elrohir was alright, or even alive for that matter. Second, that if his twin moved more than a few inches into either direction, he would roll off the cliff and fall to his almost certain doom. And third, that neither of the former things would change if he stayed here staring down this accursed cliff face.
Scrambling backwards as fast as he could, he tried to force his panicking brain to think. All he could think of was the motionless body of his twin that was lying half-way down that cliff in front of him, and yet again the trained part of his mind took over. If he lost it now, he wouldn't be able to help his brother.
He stood to his feet, eyes huge and dark in his pale face when sudden lightning flashed across the sky. With a small flash of irritation Elladan decided that this rain was bordering on unnatural. It shouldn't be possible to rain this much in such a short amount of time, and an elf shouldn't feel as wet as he did right now. It was not natural, that was what it was.
Elladan forced these thoughts from his mind, staring with unseeing eyes at the rain. Their horses were too far away for him to return and get them; besides, he still had the small bag with healing herbs and bandages strapped to his back next to his quiver; that should do for now. He grimaced wryly. Oh, not even that would help him avoid his father's wrath, he was sure of that. To be perfectly honest, he was in fact rather sure that his father would fulfil his threat and really send them to Mirkwood with a letter asking King Thranduil to throw them into one of his dungeons until their time came to leave for the Grey Havens.
Well, he decided with a small frown and turned back to the cliff's edge, quickly reaching behind him to make sure that his quiver was secured on his back, he would make sure it didn't come to that. He would climb down this cliff and get his brother, and then he would shake some sense into that stupid, thoughtless fool.
Oh yes, that was exactly what he would do, and then he would drag him back to their father and leave for an extended – and admittedly long overdue – visit to the Golden Wood. He would stay there for a few years or a few centuries, namely as long as it would take his father to calm down so that he wouldn't order Glorfindel to lock him into a cellar the next time he saw him.
'Hold on, brother,' he thought as he lowered his body over the edge of the cliff, 'I'm coming. Just don't you move an inch, you hear me?'
Half an hour later, Elladan was beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom of his decision.
At the moment, he was hanging twenty feet above the ledge his brother was lying on, on two fingers to be exact. Said two fingers that were beginning to lose their hold and slip right now.
Under normal circumstances climbing down a sixty-feet-cliff wouldn't have been a problem for him, not even blindfolded or with a hand tied behind his back, but alas, these weren't normal circumstances. Of course not, he thought irritated as he desperately tried to gain a better grip on the root of a small bush that was growing right above his head, these were anything but normal circumstances.
This was rather unusual, even for them, he decided. Elrohir was lying somewhere below him on that ledge that was just big enough for an elf half his size, he himself was just barely hanging onto this accursed cliff, and his arm was beginning to give him some serious trouble. The dark haired elf looked up at his left arm, looking past the slashed fabric to survey the cut that ran across his whole upper arm. It looked rather ugly now that he thought about it, red and, well, bloody.
He would almost have snorted, managing to hook his fingers into a small crack next to the root he was barely clinging to. Of course it looked bloody, wounds inflicted by orc daggers or scimitars tended to do that just a little bit. Especially if they pierced the skin.
Elladan shook his head and began to resume his climb down the wall. He didn't know why he was beginning to have these strange thoughts, but they were neither helping his brother nor himself. One part of him wanted to simply jump down the rest of the way and get to Elrohir, now, but another, admittedly incomparably more sensible part of him told him that that would help neither of them. He would most probably injure his brother further, or worse, cause him to fall off the narrow ledge beneath him.
The dark haired elf shook his yet again to fling wet strands of hair out of his eyes. It was still raining, something that should not be possible. It truly seemed as if they had done something to displease the Valar or Ilúvatar himself, even though he could not say what that might have been.
And still, he decided with a sudden flash of fury, not even the Valar or the One himself could stop him from getting his twin. He wouldn't care in the slightest if Manwë or Varda or any other of the Valar appeared or began to sing a little song – even though that was a rather interesting thought – for not even that would be able to prevent him from climbing down this cliff that was apparently beginning to develop a mind of its own, and a rather nasty one at that since it was beginning to crumble beneath his hands and feet.
There was no way he was losing his brother like this, he would simply not think about it. Losing his mother had almost been enough to break his heart, and a small part of him once again started whispering that it had done something much, much worse than that to him, but to lose his twin would be enough to kill him as well. He couldn't imagine being separated from Elrohir, and wherever his twin went, he would go, and that included the Halls of Mandos.
Elladan took a short look over his shoulder and would nearly have sung with joy when he realised that he was a mere ten feet above the ledge now. The proximity to his brother was enough for him to give him new strength and resolve, and after a few more moments he softly dropped down next to his brother, silently sending a short prayer of thanks to Elbereth.
With another prayer for Elrohir to be still alive, he crouched down next to his unmoving twin and sucked in a deep, shocked breath when he took a closer look at him. Elrohir was lying on his back, his left arm and leg dangling over the edge of the cliff and the broken shaft of the orc arrow protruding from his right shoulder, a large crimson stain covering the base of the projectile. A ragged cut on his forehead had already stopped bleeding, and several large, swiftly growing bruises and smaller cuts could be seen on his face and on what was visible through the numerous rips in his clothing.
Elladan swallowed hard, his right hand he had stretched out to check his brother's pulse freezing in mid-air. Eru, please no, Elrohir couldn't be dead, he mustn't be dead, please…
Elrond's oldest son took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down as much as he could at the moment, and with his teeth tightly clenched he finally placed his slightly shaking fingers on his brother's wet throat. After a second, relief flooded through him, so strong that he thought the tears he had been holding back for the entire time would make an appearance after all.
Elladan released the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding, and quickly grabbed his younger brother's apparently relatively uninjured left arm to drag him fully back onto the relative safety of the small ledge. After a few seconds he had managed to push Elrohir's unconscious body back as far against the safety of the stone wall as possible, hoping to shield him at least a bit from the torrential rain that way, and sat back a little, only an inch from the ledge's edge now himself.
The dark elf took a few deep breaths to calm his wildly beating heart as he reached onto his back and fumbled with the straps of the small bag he had secured next to his quiver. His grey eyes were already beginning to survey the damage done to his twin's body by the arrow and the fall, his mind working at full speed now and assessing every small injury and cut. Elrohir had probably broken or cracked a few ribs – his brother seemed to have a certain preference for sustaining that particular kind of injury – especially if one considered that he had just fallen sixty feet with no chance to break his fall, and apart from the obvious problem that came from having an orc arrow sticking out of one's shoulder he could also see that this was the least of their worries now.
Elladan pulled the bag off his back and grimaced when he took a closer look at Elrohir's left leg that had been dangling over the edge of the little ledge. The ribs were not so bad unless they had somehow damaged something inside of the other elf, but this… He carefully reached for the other elf's leg and withdrew his hands quickly before he had even made an attempt to straighten it. He honestly couldn't remember having ever seen a leg that looked as badly broken as this one, he admitted to himself. He could actually see the place where the bone had broken through the skin; the rain had already washed away most of the blood.
The older twin's frown deepened. Elbereth, this didn't look good, and unless he was very much mistaken, Elrohir had really managed to break both of the bones in his lower leg in his amazing clumsiness, at least twice each, one might add. That was yet another thing he would have to talk with him about, Elladan decided as he lightly ran his hands over his brother's leg in an attempt to find all the fractures, except the fact that he would forbid him ever to come close to a cliff again he would have to address that; "that" being his twin's clumsiness and his unearthly ability to sustain the most horrible injuries in the most harmless environments.
'Very well, it wasn't exactly a "harmless" environment this time, but still…'
Elladan was too immersed in his thoughts and too worried about his twin to really pay much attention to his surroundings, but even if he had it was still doubtful if he would have noticed anything. He was an elf, after all, not a dwarf, something for which he had thanked Ilúvatar many times in the past, and so he missed the small tremors that were beginning to run through the stone of the little ledge both of them were sitting on at the moment.
It was actually a rather thin stone base that was covered by a thick layer of earth that had accumulated over the years, something that had not been visible from the top of the cliff. The earth was being washed away in the torrential rain that was still beating down on them, and the weight of two beings, even two beings as light as two elves, was slowly beginning to become too much, and the fact that Elladan was kneeling at the very edge of the ledge was not helping either.
The tremors began to increase in their intensity, and when the first cracking noises could be heard over the howling of the wind and the splattering rain it was already too late. Elladan's head shot up with a start, his hands releasing the small pack he was just opening to take out some bandages. Grey eyes widened when he looked down and actually saw a crack appearing right in front of his eyes, between the still unconscious body of his brother and himself.
A second later, the ledge beneath his body lurched slightly to the side and seemed to drop a few inches, and only then did the elf understand what was happening. Elves did have no great love for rocks and stones, but now it became clear even to him that usually stone ledges were not behaving like this, unless…
His thoughts were interrupted when another violent jolt went through the rock he was kneeling on, and in the next moment the outer piece of the ledge broke away from the rest with an ugly, sharp crack.
Elladan had no time to react when he fell backwards with the rest of the rock, and the only things he thought of before he disappeared down the dark chasm were that he really should have thought of something like this, and that Elrohir would howl with laughter should he ever hear about this.
After what felt like an eternity his body hit the bottom of the cliff, and he stopped thinking altogether.
The next morning dawned as brightly as the last, and it was hard to believe for anyone laying eyes on the spectacular sunrise in the East that just a few hours ago the sky had been filled with dark grey clouds that had only been broken by an occasional shaft of lightning.
Signs of the passed storm were still evident though, and even within the borders of the elf haven of Rivendell the ground was still damp and quite a few fallen branches lay on the paths that wound across the valley.
The elf that stood on the steps leading up to the main building had no eyes for nature this morning, something entirely unusual for one of the firstborn. Even to the most casual observer it was obvious that he was deeply troubled, and the look in his grey eyes could only be described as haunted.
Elrond sighed, slowly beginning to shake his head. It was in moments like this one that he was missing his wife the most, and be it only her steady, calming presence that had always served to calm his troubled mind. Even if Celebrían had never doubted one of his visions or forebodings, she had always exuded a quiet hope that he was wrong or had misinterpreted something, an occurrence that indeed happened once in a while, and that hope had always served to lift his spirits as well.
But now she was gone and he was alone, alone with the worry, fear and despair these thoughts brought him. He had lied to Glorfindel when he had agreed that Elladan and Elrohir were probably alright, and the golden haired elf had known it just as well as Elrond knew that Glorfindel's optimism was just masking the other elf's own worry.
The twins were not alright, he could feel it.
The Lord of Imladris sighed again and unconsciously bit down on his lower lip in increasing agitation. Sometimes he seriously cursed the One for gifting him with foresight; to him it appeared more and more that it was only Ilúvatar's way of punishing him for something he or his people had done many an age ago. Perhaps it was punishment for some of the terrible things done by the Noldor during their flight from Valinor?
He would never know, but lately it seemed to him that he only got visions of what was to come when it was already too late. It was a rare thing that he was warned of something specific, but when that happened, it had always been too late for more than a hundred years now. He had been too late to save his beloved wife from the torment that eventually drove her away from him, he had been too late to save many of his warriors and of his brother's heirs from pain and death, and now it seemed that he would be too late to save his sons as well.
Elrond almost hung his head. He should have listened to his instincts, he should have kept them here until they had seen the error of their ways and accepted that blind revenge would not serve to help them or give them the peace they sought, he should…
"My lord?"
He stopped himself from jumping a foot off the ground, and while he was still turning around, he decided that he really had to stop getting lost in thought, or he would be the first elf to die from a stroke. And that, he reasoned, would probably only serve to highly amuse the elf that was standing in front of him.
Glorfindel arched a golden eyebrow in question.
"Did I surprise you, my friend?"
"No," Elrond shook his head, "Not at all."
"Of course not," the other elf smiled. "Whatever gave me that idea?"
"I don't know," Elrond retorted, turning back to watch the courtyard where several elven warriors were beginning to appear now, their horses trailing dutifully behind them. "I will never understand how your mind works, I fear."
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, but apparently decided not to comment on this. He stepped to his friend's side, his long grey cape swishing behind him as his eyes wandered over the small troupe of warriors in front of him.
"We're ready, my lord. We can leave in a few minutes."
Elrond turned slightly and looked at his golden haired advisor seriously.
"I thank you, mellon nín. I had very much hoped it wouldn't come to this, but apparently…"
"It does not surprise you, does it?" Glorfindel asked, smiling softly.
"No," Elrond shook his head again, "Not in the slightest. I cannot remember the last time this fair house has been graced with good fortune."
The golden haired elf looked at his friend with sad eyes. He too had hoped that today it would be different, that Elrond would tell him that his feelings had proven to be false, that he was sure that the twins were alright, but it had proven to be a vain hope. He had needed to take only one look at his lord's face this morning to realise that in fact nothing was alright, and least of all his lord's sons.
"Do not despair, my lord," he said. "We will find them and bring them back, and we won't let them out of this house again until they have seen reason." He paused and added after a moment, "And after you have patched them up again, naturally."
"Naturally," Elrond agreed somewhat dryly. "I think I can detect a certain pattern in their behaviour of late."
"Indeed," Glorfindel smiled. "It usually involves horrid injuries, near-death experiences and me dragging them back here."
"And I know none as perfectly suited for that job as you, my friend!" a new voice announced, and with a small, respectful bow to Elrond a dark haired elf stepped forward, a smug smile on his lips.
Glorfindel briefly closed his eyes, vainly hoping that this was merely an apparition. When he opened them again, however, the elf was still standing next to Elrond, the smile now definitely amused. The golden haired elf almost hung his head. And here he had thought that this day could not possibly get any worse.
"Erestor."
Erestor smiled at the blonde elf, an unreadable twinkle in his eyes.
"Good morning, my Lord Glorfindel. I trust you are well?"
Glorfindel gave the other elf lord a bright, blinding smile and grabbed his arm, pulling him a little to the side while he tried to ignore his lord's raised eyebrow who was watching in obvious amusement.
"What are you doing here, my lord Erestor?" he asked in a friendly tone of voice, looking pointedly at the other's attire. The dark haired elf wasn't wearing his usual robes but clothing similar to Glorfindel's, made of soft, grey elven fabric, complete with a long cape and a sword on his belt.
"Why," Erestor asked, somehow managing to project an air of hurt surprise, "I am accompanying you, of course."
"Of course," Glorfindel nodded before he blinked quickly, ignoring the soft snickering that could be heard from somewhere behind him that sounded suspiciously like Elrond. "What do you mean, 'accompanying me'?"
"You did not think I would let you go after those two irresponsible elflings alone, did you?" Erestor asked, something like enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "I will accompany you, my friend, and none of those who have hurt them will be able to stand before our wrath!"
Glorfindel stared wide-eyed at the other elf, his mind working so fast and hard that he was surprised that no-one could see the sparks flying. This was the reason why he usually spent the time Erestor was feeling adventurous in Lothlórien, but since he had been too unobservant to notice the subtle signs that indicated that the younger elf was entering the aforementioned time, he was stuck here, and it seemed that the walls were closing in on him, figuratively speaking.
He couldn't think of any sensible reason why Erestor shouldn't accompany him, except the very obvious one, namely that he would go insane if he did. He was still planning to do something rather drastic to his lord's chief advisor, besides, if Erestor was in this kind of mood, he was even worse than the twins in terms of recklessness and impulsive behaviour. Glorfindel shuddered inwardly. There was no way the dark haired elf was coming with them.
"Well," he began, displaying a false smile he had learned a very long time ago at the royal court of Gondolin. "You are needed here, my friend. Is that not correct, my lord?"
Elrond forced his face into a stern façade, inwardly thanking the Valar for friends such as these. Somehow Glorfindel always managed to cheer him up a little, even if it happened unintentionally sometimes. Ignoring the warning glare his golden haired advisor shot him, he answered,
"No, my friend. I think I will be able to do without Lord Erestor for a few days."
He would almost have laughed aloud when the warning glare turned into unbelief, then into outrage and then into something that could only be described as passionate thirst for revenge. The Lord of Rivendell forced himself not to gulp. Suddenly he could very well imagine how that poor balrog must have felt all these ages ago.
Erestor interrupted the icy silence that had fallen by clapping his fellow elf lord heartily on the back.
"You see, Glorfindel? I will be ready in a minute!" He turned to Elrond and bowed once again. "Do not worry, my lord, we will return those troublesome sons of yours to you. They will be just fine, I'm sure."
With an encouraging smile at his lord he turned and walked down the stairs leading to the courtyard, or rather skipped down the stairs leading to the courtyard, Glorfindel noted despairingly. This was a behaviour highly unbecoming an elf lord, he decided, besides, it did not bode well for his future.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. O Elbereth, all he wanted was to go and find the twins as fast as possible, and now here he was, condemned to taking Erestor with him. He opened his eyes again that were now of a dark, rather stormy blue colour, and fixed them on his lord who wasn't looking as smug anymore, which he noted with some satisfaction.
"That was unnecessary," he all but hissed.
"On the contrary," Elrond shook his head, the smug look reappearing in the blink of an eye. "You forget that Erestor is a capable warrior, even if he chooses to stay here in Imladris most of the time. Besides, you do not honestly believe that I could keep him here when he's like this, do you?"
Glorfindel glowered at the dark haired elf lord, knowing perfectly well that the other was right. If Erestor wanted to accompany him, then accompany him he would. Still, Elrond could have shown any measure of support!
"You do realise," he began slowly, beginning to smile in a rather disquieting way, "That this is not over yet, do you not, my lord? Thanks to you I have been able to come up with something rather inventive to do to my fellow councillor, but," he paused and his smile grew even more disquieting, "there is always the possibility of including a second person."
Glorfindel watched with rather a lot more satisfaction than he should rightly feel how the other elf blanched at his words, and after a few moments reminded himself of the fact that Elrond had been through enough already – not that that changed anything, of course, but he wouldn't torment him any further before exacting an appropriate revenge. Something that involved Elrond, Erestor and lots of pain and blood.
"I am sure there is," Elrond nodded, giving a rather good impression of a person who wasn't intimidated one bit by that prospect and turning back to the courtyard where Erestor was appearing now, leading a horse that didn't look too happy about the whole situation either. "But I'm afraid it will have to wait a bit yet."
Glorfindel gave him an unreadable look and quickly shook his head, taking a step forward and bowing to his half-elven lord.
"It will, my lord. First we will find those errant elflings that I will personally kill once we got them back here." He paused shortly and added, "With your permission of course, my lord."
Elrond turned slightly and looked at his golden haired friend, a rare sparkle of true humour lighting up his grey eyes that reminded Glorfindel suddenly of happier days long past.
"You may have one. I claim the pleasure of killing one of them myself."
Glorfindel hid his momentary surprise and nodded smoothly.
"Of course, mellon nín. That is your prerogative as a father."
"Precisely. A small compensation for all the trouble and worry they put me through." Elrond's smile faded quickly and he turned serious grey eyes on his friend. "Bring them back to me, Glorfindel. I could not bear to lose them as well, not so soon after…" The dark haired elf lord fell silent and took a deep breath. "And especially not now. All they have known for nearly a yén are hatred and anger, and if the worst should happen if their hearts are like this…"
"It will not happen," Glorfindel interrupted with quiet determination, looking his friend in the eye. "You have not seen their deaths, so there is still hope. Your sons are strong and stubborn; they will not let themselves be killed just like this. We will find them, Elrond, that I promise you."
Elrond nodded slowly, eyes fixed on his advisor's face.
"Thank you, my friend. I will be waiting for all of you, and may the Valar watch over your path."
Glorfindel bowed his head and began to walk down the stairs to where one of his warriors was waiting with his horse, when Elrond added as an afterthought,
"That would be the twenty-fifth time you bring them back here in about seventy years, I think."
The golden haired elf took the reins from the warrior and mounted his horse, waiting for his men to precede him before he turned back to his lord, stubbornly ignoring Erestor who had stopped his horse a few feet away from him. While Glorfindel was still trying to find a diplomatic answer to Elrond's statement, Erestor nodded cheerfully, looking back over his shoulder at the half-elf.
"Yes, my friend, but that is only counting the times our good Lord Glorfindel here brought them back. There were the four times the Prince of Mirkwood found them, and the one time Mithrandir stumbled over them, and the three times various messenger of the Galadhrim saved them. We didn't really help there…"
Glorfindel resisted the urge to burrow his head in his hands. This time of year was apparently interfering with Erestor's intelligence as well. With a rather hasty nod into Elrond's direction he spurred on his horse, forcing Erestor to do the same. After a few seconds they had reached the gates and were following the other warriors over the bridge that arched over one of the deep ravines that surrounded the Last Homely Home, and the golden haired elf turned to the side and glowered at Erestor.
"Did you really think he wanted to hear exactly how many times the twins have almost got themselves killed? Besides, you have been counting?"
The dark haired elf gave Glorfindel a lenient smile that once again awoke in him the powerful urge to kill him – painfully, if somehow possible.
"Of course! Don't tell me you have not been counting, mellon nín?"
Glorfindel spurred on his horse slightly to catch up with the rest of the warriors that were quickly disappearing down the path that led down to the banks of the Bruinen.
"Of course not," he replied curtly.
Erestor's smile grew even more lenient, and Glorfindel's urge to wrap his hands around the dark haired elf's throat and kill him now before he drove him insane even intensified. Why oh why couldn't Erestor be like everyone else when he was feeling adventurous? He would even have taken a lecture on early Adûnaic grammar right now; everything was better than Erestor brimming over with enthusiasm at the prospect of hunting a few orcs.
"You were," Erestor grinned at him. "You told me yourself the night before the last. Just before you wrote that … word on my forehead, if my memory serves me right." The dark haired elf leaned forward a bit, a wicked sparkle appearing in his eyes Glorfindel had never seen in any other person's than in one of the twins'. "That is still something I will have to pay you back for, I believe."
Glorfindel returned the grin in kind, masking the fact that he still had no idea what the word had been.
"That is a question that will need to be addressed after we find the twins and drag what is left of them back to our lord, is it not?" He righted the quiver on his back in a token gesture and looked pointedly at the other elf. "And only if I don't get to you first, my lord."
Erestor didn't look alarmed like he would have done at any other time, and neither did he look properly impressed, Glorfindel noticed with a small stab of annoyance. Even the balrog had looked somewhat concerned when he had looked at it like that, but then again, the balrog had probably not had its adventurous part of the yén either.
"I take that as a challenge then?" the dark haired elf asked, and with another grin he spurred on his horse that seemed to have accepted its fate and obeyed, projecting a rather weary air of acceptance.
Glorfindel watched speechlessly how Erestor moved his horse to the head of the small troupe of warriors, and a sigh escaped his lips as he manoeuvred his horse around a large fallen log that half-way on the path, having been ripped off a tree by the storm last night. Even though storms were never a real problem in Rivendell, the last one had been rather bad, and the grey clouds that were beginning to accumulate at the edge of the horizon promised even more of the same.
The golden haired elf sighed again.
He could truly not see how he should survive this journey, and that was not even beginning to take into account what Elrond would do to him when he returned with what was left of the twins.
Elladan awoke slowly, something he had not consented to, by the way.
If he had had it his way, he would have remained in blissful unconsciousness for the next few ages, but his body seemed to have other ideas. If it had been only his body, he would probably have been able to come to terms with the whole situation and go back to sleep, but, as he found out a few rather confused seconds later, his subconsciousness had decided to rebel against him as well.
He didn't really know why it thought it so important that he woke up and moved, but it was definitely a fact that it did, and, by the Valar, that fact was beginning to greatly annoy him, since slowly his consciousness was being pulled back from that warm, peaceful and comfortable place to another not so warm, peaceful and comfortable one.
No, he decided after a few more minutes, it was clearly neither of the above; to be explicit, it was cold and … wet. Very, very wet, the young elf amended with that certain dreamy feeling that materialised every time he had hit his head on something either very large or very solid – or on something very large and solid.
It took his muddled brain some time to realise that a piece of vital information had just been presented to him: He appeared to have hit his head. Elladan frowned mentally. He couldn't remember when that should have occurred; to be precise, he couldn't remember what had happened at all!
That thought served to bring him yet a little closer to consciousness, and he renewed his efforts to shake off the last dark shreds of sleep that threatened to pull his beleaguered mind under again. No, he decided as he fought himself back to awareness, slowly beginning to take in more of his surroundings, that was not exactly true. He did remember some things, for example rain, and lots of it at that. Rain did in fact explain why he was feeling wet, even though it did not really explain why he was cold as well, for elves usually did not feel things such as these.
After some more minutes, glazed grey eyes opened, the pupils unfocused and moving around unsteadily in their search for something to fix on. Elladan needed some time to understand that he was lying on his left side, and that the strange thing in front of his eyes was his left arm that was half buried in a quagmire of unheard-of dimensions. Which would explain why he couldn't move his head an inch, he nodded inwardly, glad that he had found an explanation for his skull's obvious inability to obey his brain's commands.
There was not much he could see from his position on the ground except his arm and a few rocks and what looked like rather big branches that littered the ground of wherever-he-was, and so he slowly began to push himself into a sitting position, wincing when he heard a soft, sucking noise when he had finally gathered enough strength to lift his head out of the mud. A second later, a sharp pain lanced through his temples, and his hands flew to his aching head, pressing against his skull in an attempt to ease the pain that was located exactly behind his temples.
When the pain had subsided to bearable levels and his brain had apparently decided to give up on its attempts at spontaneous expansion, Elladan slowly removed his shaking hands, only to find that his right came away bloody. He studied the red liquid with a slightly puzzled expression on his face, and began to feel for the gash that had to be somewhere on his face. Finally he found it, a large cut on his forehead that reminded him of something, something important, something he knew he should remember…
While he was still pondering this, his eyes wandered over his surroundings, and he found that he was at what looked as the bottom of a ravine, a rather small one at that. The stony ground was almost entirely covered with dead branches, mud, leaves and even a small tree or two that seemed to have fallen into the gorge not too long ago. The ravine was not nearly as big or deep as the one his father had founded Imladris in; it looked no more than a hundred feet deep or so…
Elladan suddenly gasped and bolted upright, the pain in his protesting body forgotten for the moment. Images flittered through his mind, too quickly for him to identify all of them, but still, the ones he was able to see clearly were enough to freeze his heart in his chest.
The orcs … the sudden storm that had caught up with them sooner than they had thought … Elrohir's face as that arrow hit him … Elrohir's face as he stumbled backwards and fell…
"Elrohir!" he gasped horrified and shot to his feet, only to crumble back to the ground with a barely stifled, hoarse cry. A quick examination revealed the source of his discomfort: His right ankle was swollen to the extent that it resembled more a small boulder than an elven appendage.
The older twin cursed under his breath as he took a closer look at his foot. He reached for the healing bag he knew should be strapped to his back, only to remember that it was either still with his brother – something he fervently hoped – or somewhere … down here. Elladan gave his mud-covered surroundings that very much looked as if they had seen a recent orc invasion a brief glance and decided that, if it was indeed down here, he would never find it again. Scowling darkly, he began to remove his cloak and tear it into strips to somehow support his ankle; he wouldn't be able to climb up that wall otherwise.
A small voice started laughing incredulously at that, but he silenced it quickly. It was the only thing he could do, he thought grimly while he wrapped wet pieces of cloth around his foot, his face contorted with pain, he had to help Elrohir. There was no way his twin had climbed back up since he himself had fallen, and he wasn't down here either, so Elladan reasoned – and prayed – that he was still up that little ledge he could see about forty feet above him.
After some more minutes, he shakily rose to his feet, suppressing a wince when his foot touched the ground. 'It will have to do,' Elladan decided, trying to judge the sun's position which wasn't made easier by the thick clouds that covered the sky. It would start raining soon again, just wonderful…
It was just after sunrise, he decided finally, turning to the cliff face and trying to suppress the shiver that raced across his back when he saw a sharp, ragged rock he had just missed by an inch when he had landed in his little quagmire. A few inches to the right and he would be dead now. He quickly took his mind off that rather depressing topic; sunrise, that meant he had been unconscious for at least seven or eight hours!
Urgency rushed through his mind like a tidal wave; all the things that could have happened to Elrohir since then! It had all been his fault in the first place; it had been his fault his little brother had got hurt. He should have seen the archer sooner, he shouldn't have let it escape when he had fought the others, he should have reached his twin sooner! And then, when he had reached him, he had foolishly neglected to check if the ledge was stable enough, and had promptly fallen off himself!
Elladan shook his head, reaching out with his left hand to grab a slightly protruding rock about a foot above his head and frowning when he noticed the cut he had sustained in the battle yesterday, the cut that looked rather ugly and red now, caked with mud that only served to compound that impression. He ignored his body's discomfort and began to pull himself up the rock face. He was still in much better shape than Elrohir, he berated himself, all he had were some minor cuts, a twisted ankle and a few bruises; nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days. It was his brother who was lying somewhere up there on a tiny ledge, lying there because he had been too slow to help him…
The dark haired elf shook his head slightly, welcoming the pain the movement brought as something that would help him concentrate. He couldn't think of that now, he couldn't think of what Elrohir's body had looked like when he had last seen him, he mustn't, or he would go insane, right here, right now. He couldn't lose his twin, not now, not ever, and certainly not so soon after their mother!
Dark memories once again surfaced, memories of pain, despair and helplessness, and he felt how the lingering echoes of these emotions re-awoke in his heart, stirred to life only to burn stronger and hotter than ever before. Yet another emotion made an appearance: Anger. Anger at the evil fate that had cursed him and those he loved with death and pain, an anger at those who took his loved ones and left him behind with the despair and no way to rid himself of it.
Elladan shook his head again, grabbing once again for a handhold in the ragged wall above his head. Anger would not help him now, it would only make him weak and cloud his judgement; therefore preventing him from coming to Elrohir's aid. There was still hope, Elrohir was still alive, and he would continue telling himself that until he was proven otherwise.
He closed his hand tightly around the stone and hoisted his body up, already looking for the next handhold. He would get to him in time; Elrohir just had to be alive, please Elbereth, let him not be dead…
Slowly Elladan began to climb up the rock face, his body moving automatically now as he searched for hand- and footholds, all the while trying to ignore the nagging fear in his heart that grew with every inch he ascended, a fear that, once again, he would be too late.
TBC...
mellon nín - my friend
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years
One wouldn't have thought it possible, but the twins' luck really turned from bad to worse, huh? *shakes head sadly* Poor elflings... Well, there is one positive thing though: This is no cliffy! *beams* Great, huh? The next chapter has one though, but I never said that. *g* Speaking of which, the next chapter should be here on ... Monday, I think. They're only five all in all, so in roughly a week this fic will be finished anway. It might be quicker if you review! *g* Really, just try it!
Additional A/N:
Jazmin3 Firewing - Really, I mean it. I'm not telling! You will have to use your imagination... *evil grin* Well, be that as it may, I'm sure that Stan and Finarfen would get along just great! We should really let them meet and do balrog stuff together ... you know, elf-roasting, wizard-down-an-abyss-pulling, thing like that. *g* What do you think?
Nikara - Well, I did disappear more or less. I experienced some heavy withdrawal symptoms, and wasn't exactly what you would call amiable company. *g* But that's the past, I got back my internet, got a new IDE drive for my computer so I can use it instead of the laptop (finally! an 14'' screen wasn't exactly fun!) and today I established a network between my computers and my sister's. Now we can do lots of fun stuff! *evil grin* Ah well. Whatever. Thanks a lot for your review, and I'm very glad to hear that you like Glorfindel. Honestly.
Alisha B - *watches her lecture, wincing at several points* Just agree to everything she says, boys ... No, Elladan, don't look at her like that ... *sighs* See? Now she got the balrog and that really ugly cave troll ... oh, this is gonna get messy.... *g* LOL, I REALLY enjoyed the lecture! They most certainly deserved it! I wonder myself how they have managed to survive as long as they have... *shakes head* Reckless elflings. But I'm very thankful that you returned Elrohir to his near-death-situation. I hate it when people kidnap my characters and don't return them to where they found them. *disapproving look* I'm also glad to hear that your cuts are only scratches. Though if I were you, I wouldn't mention these exact words in Elrond's presence. He reacts rather ... erratic when he hears " only a scratch". I dunno why either. He's just weird, I guess... *g* Thanks a lot for your great, slightly weird review! Don't worry though: I love weird! Really!
Mouse5 - *shrugs innocently* I don't know. But you know, as soon as I see a cliff I get this irresistible urge to throw someone off it - might be connected to that... *g* A one shot about Erestor and Glorfindel, huh? I might actually do that, in between stories sometime... Good idea. I'll most certainly think about it. *nods* Yup.
CrazyLOTRfan - *beams* Great I could make you forget school for a while! That's really very nice, and since I know how much you like cliffies: The next chapter has another cliffy, and a rather nice one I think. Not as good as the last one, but not bad either. Thanks a lot for all your wonderful reviews!
Farflung - LOL, you are the first to discover that I think - Trouble and Twins. *g* It's very nice to hear that you somewhat agree with my description of the twins - I always find it rather hard to describe both the 'merry' and the serious side of elves, and especially the twins. I mean, funny is alright, but they're over 2500 years old, for crying out loud! I'm not really sure about the whole question though, I mean about them going to Valinor or not. I mean, there is only this little tidbit somewhere in one of Tolkien's letters or something like that that the twins stayed as well, in the end of RotK or the appendixes it just said they dwelt a long time yet in Middle-Earth. So I somehow always thought that they would sail to Valinor in the end, but that's just my opinion. Thank you very much for your long reviews!
Firnsarnien - Yeah, I kinda figured that you would think that when I got your review for the other story. I'm sorry, but I really want to get this story over with as soon as possible since it WAS Kaeera's birthday story at one point or other. A long time in the past now, unfortunately... Your prediction about elf angst might be correct, but more in the next chapter than in this one. You know, unconsciousness and all that... *waves hand vaguely* And you're right: No CLF this time! Yay!
Kaeera - Na ja, aber ich bin ja einer dieser dummen Perfektionisten. Kein einfaches Leben, aber ich werde nervoes, wenn ich laenger als 5 Tage nicht geupdated habe. Wie heisst es so schoen: So sue me. *g* Und ja, jetzt kommt das, worauf sich dein sadistisches Herz gefreut hat, aber das ist eigentlich eher erst im naechsten Kapitel dran. Aber das kommt ja auch blad, also keine Sorge. LOL, eingewachsene Zehennaegel und Thrombose? Na, das haben die verdient! *g*
Silvertoekee - Yeah, just like all males, aren't they? They just DON'T THINK, in Elbereth's name! I don't know why men/male elves do it... *shrugs* They're kinda stupid, I guess... And no, I won't say anything about the word. Sorry.
Suzi9 - Uhm, yes. I am sadistic, in a way at least, I guess. I mean, it's more my alter ego's fault, but since she's a part of me you're right. Sort of. *g* What in the name of the Three were you doing in the hospital? Are you sick? Ill? Something like that? I really hope you're okay - I would hate to lose a loyal reviewer... *g* Great you like Drákon, I hope I can get him after christmas? The chariot would be nice too, but the dragon is more important. *g*
Mystic Girl1 - Meine Rede. Alles, was juenger als ich ist, ist moralisch verdorben. Ist eine relativ narrensichere Einstellung, glaub mir... Ausserdem habe ich meine Schwester als lebendes Beispiel. Glaub mir, es ist wahr... Wann genau ist dein Geburtstag? Der kommt gleich in meinen Kalender! Und ich gebe zu, dass Elladan's Plan nicht allzu helle war, aber na ja, er stand unter psychischem Druck? Oder so? *g* Schoen, dass du cliffies magst. Ich glaube, ansonsten dreht man bei mir auch ziemlich schnell am Rad... LOL, deine Liebesbrief-Idee gefaellt mir! Schade, dass die Geschichte schon fertig ist, aber na ja... *g* Und: Wenn ich jetzt AEFAE lese, schaudere ich manchmal schon zusammen. Ich mag sie immer noch, ist schliesslich meine erste Geschichte, aber ehrlich... *schuettelt Kopf*
Firegirl353 - *g* Nope, I guess plotting is yet another thing a proper elf lord never does. But ... well, I think our dear Glorfindel is ready to make an exception just this once... Hmm, why does Nili love cliffies so much? I think mainly because she has an evil alter ego. But there might be other reasons. *shrugs* We will never know, I fear... *g* And: London is wonderful! I absolutely LOVE it, the atmosphere is great, even though it's ridiculously expensive. You wouldn't BELIEVE what you pay for a coffee there... *shakes head* But still, more than worth it. If I had £5000 too much a month, I would move there without a second thought. And no, English is not my first language, and Latin is my second. My first is German, which, I guess, makes me a German as well. *shrugs* Stupid language, but what can you do... Great you like the story though, and I fear that you might be right about the sense getting knocked into them. Poor elfsies. *evil grin*
Sabercrazy - I know exactly what you mean. When my internet broke down, the first thing I thought of was that you guys would kill me. *g* I really hate updating too late, especially since I hate it myself when people do it. *g* And yes, I was indeed considering the possibility of Glorfindel torture. I mean, he's just begiing for it, isn't he? *shakes head in disgust* Jeez, I guess I really need professional help... And, technically speaking, a lightsabre is neither sharp nor pointy, is it? *grins openly* And, once again, you're right: To be perfectly honest, I have no intentions of ever explaining what the word etc. is. It would ruin the whole thing, since no matter what I come up with it would never be as funny or weird as what all the other people reading the story have thought of. So, I'll just leave it to everybody's imagination. I'm kinda lazy, I admit it. *g* And yes, I guess the twins' and Aragorn's bad luck has merely rubbed off on Legolas. Bad company, definitely... *g*
A heartfelt Thank You to all my wonderful reviewers! I'm quite busy at the moment, and reviews just cheer me up no matter what! Thanks!
A/N:
Okay, I'll say it here again: I will not, I repeat, NOT tell anyone anything about the word. I'm very sorry, but I really don't want one or two elf lords out there after my blood, my life is stressful enough as it is, thank you very much. *g* So, sorry about that, but you'll have to be patient for a little bit longer - okay, make that quite a bit longer... *evil grin*
It's also nice to hear that you enjoyed my little cliffy - yes, I let my alter ego out to play again, I admit it. But she gets really unhappy if I keep her locked away in the basement - besides, there is rat poison there, and I would truly hate to see what that would do to her already more than unstable and evil mind. *g* So, I hope you understand, and the cliffy wasn't THAT bad anyway, even though the twins and especially Elrohir might think differently. *shrugs* What do they know anyway?
Okay, enough of the mindless blabber and on to the chapter! Let's see, we have ... a very, very worried elder elven twin, a very, very unconscious younger elven twin, several elf lords that find themselves in situations they would rather NOT be in and the ultimate proof that rock faces/cliffs/etc. hate elves. Fun all around, eh? *g*
Enjoy and review, please!
Chapter 3
Elladan slid a few more feet before he came to a full stop. He felt suddenly cold, paralysingly cold, a feeling that had nothing to do with the rain and cold that surrounded him, only two thoughts warring for domination on his mind.
There was the powerful, nearly all-dominating urge to cross the distance to the cliff and get to Elrohir, to get to him now, but a second, even more urgent thought made him move to the side and turn around as quickly as possible. Even though everything in him told him to get to his brother, a more sensible part of his mind, the part that had been trained in warfare and survival for more than two thousand years, insisted that he killed the orc, or he wouldn't be able to help Elrohir.
Whirling back towards the wood, he reached for an arrow and notched it faster than a mortal's eye could follow. Letting the projectile fly, he turned back to cliff, not even bothering to wait and see if it had hit its intended target. This one time, the arrow had been there before he had fired it. No-one hurt his brother and lived to tell the tale.
Skidding to a halt next to the cliff's edge, he fell to his knees and grabbed a large stone with his left hand to avoid falling over the precipice as well, wincing inwardly when he felt the cut in his arm protest. The wound started to hurt now, badly, but he ignored it resolutely as he leaned over the edge.
"Elrohir!!"
The desperate cry was torn from his lips by the howling wind and swiftly carried away, and the dark haired elf felt as if the slowly fading echoes mocked and taunted him. Elladan leaned forward a bit more, staring intently down into the dark chasm.
"Elrohir! Brother, can you hear me?"
The thickly falling rain made it hard for him to see anything, and the growing panic that was beginning to envelop his entire being did nothing to help his concentration either. Elladan's elven eyes had a hard time piercing the shrouding darkness, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw a tiny, grey-clad figure, about sixty feet below him. A tiny, twisted and frighteningly unmoving figure that looked disconcertingly like his twin.
'Ilúvatar, no…' A cold, icy fist reached into his chest and began to crush his heart. It couldn't be, it just couldn't end like this!
"Elrohir!" he called again, gripping the stone he held harder. "Elrohir!! Can you hear me? Answer me, you stubborn elf!"
Nothing but the howling of the wind answered him, and Elladan felt how the panic inside of him even grew. He could see that his twin didn't move, and that was probably quite a good thing, too. Elrohir was lying on a ledge half-way down the cliff face that wasn't bigger than a few metres in diameter, the left side of his body hanging over the edge. If he had landed half a metre to the left, he would have fallen another forty feet, and that was something he definitely wouldn't have survived in his present condition.
With an obvious effort, Elladan shook his head, reluctantly accepting a few facts. First, that there was no way of finding out if Elrohir was alright, or even alive for that matter. Second, that if his twin moved more than a few inches into either direction, he would roll off the cliff and fall to his almost certain doom. And third, that neither of the former things would change if he stayed here staring down this accursed cliff face.
Scrambling backwards as fast as he could, he tried to force his panicking brain to think. All he could think of was the motionless body of his twin that was lying half-way down that cliff in front of him, and yet again the trained part of his mind took over. If he lost it now, he wouldn't be able to help his brother.
He stood to his feet, eyes huge and dark in his pale face when sudden lightning flashed across the sky. With a small flash of irritation Elladan decided that this rain was bordering on unnatural. It shouldn't be possible to rain this much in such a short amount of time, and an elf shouldn't feel as wet as he did right now. It was not natural, that was what it was.
Elladan forced these thoughts from his mind, staring with unseeing eyes at the rain. Their horses were too far away for him to return and get them; besides, he still had the small bag with healing herbs and bandages strapped to his back next to his quiver; that should do for now. He grimaced wryly. Oh, not even that would help him avoid his father's wrath, he was sure of that. To be perfectly honest, he was in fact rather sure that his father would fulfil his threat and really send them to Mirkwood with a letter asking King Thranduil to throw them into one of his dungeons until their time came to leave for the Grey Havens.
Well, he decided with a small frown and turned back to the cliff's edge, quickly reaching behind him to make sure that his quiver was secured on his back, he would make sure it didn't come to that. He would climb down this cliff and get his brother, and then he would shake some sense into that stupid, thoughtless fool.
Oh yes, that was exactly what he would do, and then he would drag him back to their father and leave for an extended – and admittedly long overdue – visit to the Golden Wood. He would stay there for a few years or a few centuries, namely as long as it would take his father to calm down so that he wouldn't order Glorfindel to lock him into a cellar the next time he saw him.
'Hold on, brother,' he thought as he lowered his body over the edge of the cliff, 'I'm coming. Just don't you move an inch, you hear me?'
Half an hour later, Elladan was beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom of his decision.
At the moment, he was hanging twenty feet above the ledge his brother was lying on, on two fingers to be exact. Said two fingers that were beginning to lose their hold and slip right now.
Under normal circumstances climbing down a sixty-feet-cliff wouldn't have been a problem for him, not even blindfolded or with a hand tied behind his back, but alas, these weren't normal circumstances. Of course not, he thought irritated as he desperately tried to gain a better grip on the root of a small bush that was growing right above his head, these were anything but normal circumstances.
This was rather unusual, even for them, he decided. Elrohir was lying somewhere below him on that ledge that was just big enough for an elf half his size, he himself was just barely hanging onto this accursed cliff, and his arm was beginning to give him some serious trouble. The dark haired elf looked up at his left arm, looking past the slashed fabric to survey the cut that ran across his whole upper arm. It looked rather ugly now that he thought about it, red and, well, bloody.
He would almost have snorted, managing to hook his fingers into a small crack next to the root he was barely clinging to. Of course it looked bloody, wounds inflicted by orc daggers or scimitars tended to do that just a little bit. Especially if they pierced the skin.
Elladan shook his head and began to resume his climb down the wall. He didn't know why he was beginning to have these strange thoughts, but they were neither helping his brother nor himself. One part of him wanted to simply jump down the rest of the way and get to Elrohir, now, but another, admittedly incomparably more sensible part of him told him that that would help neither of them. He would most probably injure his brother further, or worse, cause him to fall off the narrow ledge beneath him.
The dark haired elf shook his yet again to fling wet strands of hair out of his eyes. It was still raining, something that should not be possible. It truly seemed as if they had done something to displease the Valar or Ilúvatar himself, even though he could not say what that might have been.
And still, he decided with a sudden flash of fury, not even the Valar or the One himself could stop him from getting his twin. He wouldn't care in the slightest if Manwë or Varda or any other of the Valar appeared or began to sing a little song – even though that was a rather interesting thought – for not even that would be able to prevent him from climbing down this cliff that was apparently beginning to develop a mind of its own, and a rather nasty one at that since it was beginning to crumble beneath his hands and feet.
There was no way he was losing his brother like this, he would simply not think about it. Losing his mother had almost been enough to break his heart, and a small part of him once again started whispering that it had done something much, much worse than that to him, but to lose his twin would be enough to kill him as well. He couldn't imagine being separated from Elrohir, and wherever his twin went, he would go, and that included the Halls of Mandos.
Elladan took a short look over his shoulder and would nearly have sung with joy when he realised that he was a mere ten feet above the ledge now. The proximity to his brother was enough for him to give him new strength and resolve, and after a few more moments he softly dropped down next to his brother, silently sending a short prayer of thanks to Elbereth.
With another prayer for Elrohir to be still alive, he crouched down next to his unmoving twin and sucked in a deep, shocked breath when he took a closer look at him. Elrohir was lying on his back, his left arm and leg dangling over the edge of the cliff and the broken shaft of the orc arrow protruding from his right shoulder, a large crimson stain covering the base of the projectile. A ragged cut on his forehead had already stopped bleeding, and several large, swiftly growing bruises and smaller cuts could be seen on his face and on what was visible through the numerous rips in his clothing.
Elladan swallowed hard, his right hand he had stretched out to check his brother's pulse freezing in mid-air. Eru, please no, Elrohir couldn't be dead, he mustn't be dead, please…
Elrond's oldest son took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down as much as he could at the moment, and with his teeth tightly clenched he finally placed his slightly shaking fingers on his brother's wet throat. After a second, relief flooded through him, so strong that he thought the tears he had been holding back for the entire time would make an appearance after all.
Elladan released the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding, and quickly grabbed his younger brother's apparently relatively uninjured left arm to drag him fully back onto the relative safety of the small ledge. After a few seconds he had managed to push Elrohir's unconscious body back as far against the safety of the stone wall as possible, hoping to shield him at least a bit from the torrential rain that way, and sat back a little, only an inch from the ledge's edge now himself.
The dark elf took a few deep breaths to calm his wildly beating heart as he reached onto his back and fumbled with the straps of the small bag he had secured next to his quiver. His grey eyes were already beginning to survey the damage done to his twin's body by the arrow and the fall, his mind working at full speed now and assessing every small injury and cut. Elrohir had probably broken or cracked a few ribs – his brother seemed to have a certain preference for sustaining that particular kind of injury – especially if one considered that he had just fallen sixty feet with no chance to break his fall, and apart from the obvious problem that came from having an orc arrow sticking out of one's shoulder he could also see that this was the least of their worries now.
Elladan pulled the bag off his back and grimaced when he took a closer look at Elrohir's left leg that had been dangling over the edge of the little ledge. The ribs were not so bad unless they had somehow damaged something inside of the other elf, but this… He carefully reached for the other elf's leg and withdrew his hands quickly before he had even made an attempt to straighten it. He honestly couldn't remember having ever seen a leg that looked as badly broken as this one, he admitted to himself. He could actually see the place where the bone had broken through the skin; the rain had already washed away most of the blood.
The older twin's frown deepened. Elbereth, this didn't look good, and unless he was very much mistaken, Elrohir had really managed to break both of the bones in his lower leg in his amazing clumsiness, at least twice each, one might add. That was yet another thing he would have to talk with him about, Elladan decided as he lightly ran his hands over his brother's leg in an attempt to find all the fractures, except the fact that he would forbid him ever to come close to a cliff again he would have to address that; "that" being his twin's clumsiness and his unearthly ability to sustain the most horrible injuries in the most harmless environments.
'Very well, it wasn't exactly a "harmless" environment this time, but still…'
Elladan was too immersed in his thoughts and too worried about his twin to really pay much attention to his surroundings, but even if he had it was still doubtful if he would have noticed anything. He was an elf, after all, not a dwarf, something for which he had thanked Ilúvatar many times in the past, and so he missed the small tremors that were beginning to run through the stone of the little ledge both of them were sitting on at the moment.
It was actually a rather thin stone base that was covered by a thick layer of earth that had accumulated over the years, something that had not been visible from the top of the cliff. The earth was being washed away in the torrential rain that was still beating down on them, and the weight of two beings, even two beings as light as two elves, was slowly beginning to become too much, and the fact that Elladan was kneeling at the very edge of the ledge was not helping either.
The tremors began to increase in their intensity, and when the first cracking noises could be heard over the howling of the wind and the splattering rain it was already too late. Elladan's head shot up with a start, his hands releasing the small pack he was just opening to take out some bandages. Grey eyes widened when he looked down and actually saw a crack appearing right in front of his eyes, between the still unconscious body of his brother and himself.
A second later, the ledge beneath his body lurched slightly to the side and seemed to drop a few inches, and only then did the elf understand what was happening. Elves did have no great love for rocks and stones, but now it became clear even to him that usually stone ledges were not behaving like this, unless…
His thoughts were interrupted when another violent jolt went through the rock he was kneeling on, and in the next moment the outer piece of the ledge broke away from the rest with an ugly, sharp crack.
Elladan had no time to react when he fell backwards with the rest of the rock, and the only things he thought of before he disappeared down the dark chasm were that he really should have thought of something like this, and that Elrohir would howl with laughter should he ever hear about this.
After what felt like an eternity his body hit the bottom of the cliff, and he stopped thinking altogether.
The next morning dawned as brightly as the last, and it was hard to believe for anyone laying eyes on the spectacular sunrise in the East that just a few hours ago the sky had been filled with dark grey clouds that had only been broken by an occasional shaft of lightning.
Signs of the passed storm were still evident though, and even within the borders of the elf haven of Rivendell the ground was still damp and quite a few fallen branches lay on the paths that wound across the valley.
The elf that stood on the steps leading up to the main building had no eyes for nature this morning, something entirely unusual for one of the firstborn. Even to the most casual observer it was obvious that he was deeply troubled, and the look in his grey eyes could only be described as haunted.
Elrond sighed, slowly beginning to shake his head. It was in moments like this one that he was missing his wife the most, and be it only her steady, calming presence that had always served to calm his troubled mind. Even if Celebrían had never doubted one of his visions or forebodings, she had always exuded a quiet hope that he was wrong or had misinterpreted something, an occurrence that indeed happened once in a while, and that hope had always served to lift his spirits as well.
But now she was gone and he was alone, alone with the worry, fear and despair these thoughts brought him. He had lied to Glorfindel when he had agreed that Elladan and Elrohir were probably alright, and the golden haired elf had known it just as well as Elrond knew that Glorfindel's optimism was just masking the other elf's own worry.
The twins were not alright, he could feel it.
The Lord of Imladris sighed again and unconsciously bit down on his lower lip in increasing agitation. Sometimes he seriously cursed the One for gifting him with foresight; to him it appeared more and more that it was only Ilúvatar's way of punishing him for something he or his people had done many an age ago. Perhaps it was punishment for some of the terrible things done by the Noldor during their flight from Valinor?
He would never know, but lately it seemed to him that he only got visions of what was to come when it was already too late. It was a rare thing that he was warned of something specific, but when that happened, it had always been too late for more than a hundred years now. He had been too late to save his beloved wife from the torment that eventually drove her away from him, he had been too late to save many of his warriors and of his brother's heirs from pain and death, and now it seemed that he would be too late to save his sons as well.
Elrond almost hung his head. He should have listened to his instincts, he should have kept them here until they had seen the error of their ways and accepted that blind revenge would not serve to help them or give them the peace they sought, he should…
"My lord?"
He stopped himself from jumping a foot off the ground, and while he was still turning around, he decided that he really had to stop getting lost in thought, or he would be the first elf to die from a stroke. And that, he reasoned, would probably only serve to highly amuse the elf that was standing in front of him.
Glorfindel arched a golden eyebrow in question.
"Did I surprise you, my friend?"
"No," Elrond shook his head, "Not at all."
"Of course not," the other elf smiled. "Whatever gave me that idea?"
"I don't know," Elrond retorted, turning back to watch the courtyard where several elven warriors were beginning to appear now, their horses trailing dutifully behind them. "I will never understand how your mind works, I fear."
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, but apparently decided not to comment on this. He stepped to his friend's side, his long grey cape swishing behind him as his eyes wandered over the small troupe of warriors in front of him.
"We're ready, my lord. We can leave in a few minutes."
Elrond turned slightly and looked at his golden haired advisor seriously.
"I thank you, mellon nín. I had very much hoped it wouldn't come to this, but apparently…"
"It does not surprise you, does it?" Glorfindel asked, smiling softly.
"No," Elrond shook his head again, "Not in the slightest. I cannot remember the last time this fair house has been graced with good fortune."
The golden haired elf looked at his friend with sad eyes. He too had hoped that today it would be different, that Elrond would tell him that his feelings had proven to be false, that he was sure that the twins were alright, but it had proven to be a vain hope. He had needed to take only one look at his lord's face this morning to realise that in fact nothing was alright, and least of all his lord's sons.
"Do not despair, my lord," he said. "We will find them and bring them back, and we won't let them out of this house again until they have seen reason." He paused and added after a moment, "And after you have patched them up again, naturally."
"Naturally," Elrond agreed somewhat dryly. "I think I can detect a certain pattern in their behaviour of late."
"Indeed," Glorfindel smiled. "It usually involves horrid injuries, near-death experiences and me dragging them back here."
"And I know none as perfectly suited for that job as you, my friend!" a new voice announced, and with a small, respectful bow to Elrond a dark haired elf stepped forward, a smug smile on his lips.
Glorfindel briefly closed his eyes, vainly hoping that this was merely an apparition. When he opened them again, however, the elf was still standing next to Elrond, the smile now definitely amused. The golden haired elf almost hung his head. And here he had thought that this day could not possibly get any worse.
"Erestor."
Erestor smiled at the blonde elf, an unreadable twinkle in his eyes.
"Good morning, my Lord Glorfindel. I trust you are well?"
Glorfindel gave the other elf lord a bright, blinding smile and grabbed his arm, pulling him a little to the side while he tried to ignore his lord's raised eyebrow who was watching in obvious amusement.
"What are you doing here, my lord Erestor?" he asked in a friendly tone of voice, looking pointedly at the other's attire. The dark haired elf wasn't wearing his usual robes but clothing similar to Glorfindel's, made of soft, grey elven fabric, complete with a long cape and a sword on his belt.
"Why," Erestor asked, somehow managing to project an air of hurt surprise, "I am accompanying you, of course."
"Of course," Glorfindel nodded before he blinked quickly, ignoring the soft snickering that could be heard from somewhere behind him that sounded suspiciously like Elrond. "What do you mean, 'accompanying me'?"
"You did not think I would let you go after those two irresponsible elflings alone, did you?" Erestor asked, something like enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "I will accompany you, my friend, and none of those who have hurt them will be able to stand before our wrath!"
Glorfindel stared wide-eyed at the other elf, his mind working so fast and hard that he was surprised that no-one could see the sparks flying. This was the reason why he usually spent the time Erestor was feeling adventurous in Lothlórien, but since he had been too unobservant to notice the subtle signs that indicated that the younger elf was entering the aforementioned time, he was stuck here, and it seemed that the walls were closing in on him, figuratively speaking.
He couldn't think of any sensible reason why Erestor shouldn't accompany him, except the very obvious one, namely that he would go insane if he did. He was still planning to do something rather drastic to his lord's chief advisor, besides, if Erestor was in this kind of mood, he was even worse than the twins in terms of recklessness and impulsive behaviour. Glorfindel shuddered inwardly. There was no way the dark haired elf was coming with them.
"Well," he began, displaying a false smile he had learned a very long time ago at the royal court of Gondolin. "You are needed here, my friend. Is that not correct, my lord?"
Elrond forced his face into a stern façade, inwardly thanking the Valar for friends such as these. Somehow Glorfindel always managed to cheer him up a little, even if it happened unintentionally sometimes. Ignoring the warning glare his golden haired advisor shot him, he answered,
"No, my friend. I think I will be able to do without Lord Erestor for a few days."
He would almost have laughed aloud when the warning glare turned into unbelief, then into outrage and then into something that could only be described as passionate thirst for revenge. The Lord of Rivendell forced himself not to gulp. Suddenly he could very well imagine how that poor balrog must have felt all these ages ago.
Erestor interrupted the icy silence that had fallen by clapping his fellow elf lord heartily on the back.
"You see, Glorfindel? I will be ready in a minute!" He turned to Elrond and bowed once again. "Do not worry, my lord, we will return those troublesome sons of yours to you. They will be just fine, I'm sure."
With an encouraging smile at his lord he turned and walked down the stairs leading to the courtyard, or rather skipped down the stairs leading to the courtyard, Glorfindel noted despairingly. This was a behaviour highly unbecoming an elf lord, he decided, besides, it did not bode well for his future.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. O Elbereth, all he wanted was to go and find the twins as fast as possible, and now here he was, condemned to taking Erestor with him. He opened his eyes again that were now of a dark, rather stormy blue colour, and fixed them on his lord who wasn't looking as smug anymore, which he noted with some satisfaction.
"That was unnecessary," he all but hissed.
"On the contrary," Elrond shook his head, the smug look reappearing in the blink of an eye. "You forget that Erestor is a capable warrior, even if he chooses to stay here in Imladris most of the time. Besides, you do not honestly believe that I could keep him here when he's like this, do you?"
Glorfindel glowered at the dark haired elf lord, knowing perfectly well that the other was right. If Erestor wanted to accompany him, then accompany him he would. Still, Elrond could have shown any measure of support!
"You do realise," he began slowly, beginning to smile in a rather disquieting way, "That this is not over yet, do you not, my lord? Thanks to you I have been able to come up with something rather inventive to do to my fellow councillor, but," he paused and his smile grew even more disquieting, "there is always the possibility of including a second person."
Glorfindel watched with rather a lot more satisfaction than he should rightly feel how the other elf blanched at his words, and after a few moments reminded himself of the fact that Elrond had been through enough already – not that that changed anything, of course, but he wouldn't torment him any further before exacting an appropriate revenge. Something that involved Elrond, Erestor and lots of pain and blood.
"I am sure there is," Elrond nodded, giving a rather good impression of a person who wasn't intimidated one bit by that prospect and turning back to the courtyard where Erestor was appearing now, leading a horse that didn't look too happy about the whole situation either. "But I'm afraid it will have to wait a bit yet."
Glorfindel gave him an unreadable look and quickly shook his head, taking a step forward and bowing to his half-elven lord.
"It will, my lord. First we will find those errant elflings that I will personally kill once we got them back here." He paused shortly and added, "With your permission of course, my lord."
Elrond turned slightly and looked at his golden haired friend, a rare sparkle of true humour lighting up his grey eyes that reminded Glorfindel suddenly of happier days long past.
"You may have one. I claim the pleasure of killing one of them myself."
Glorfindel hid his momentary surprise and nodded smoothly.
"Of course, mellon nín. That is your prerogative as a father."
"Precisely. A small compensation for all the trouble and worry they put me through." Elrond's smile faded quickly and he turned serious grey eyes on his friend. "Bring them back to me, Glorfindel. I could not bear to lose them as well, not so soon after…" The dark haired elf lord fell silent and took a deep breath. "And especially not now. All they have known for nearly a yén are hatred and anger, and if the worst should happen if their hearts are like this…"
"It will not happen," Glorfindel interrupted with quiet determination, looking his friend in the eye. "You have not seen their deaths, so there is still hope. Your sons are strong and stubborn; they will not let themselves be killed just like this. We will find them, Elrond, that I promise you."
Elrond nodded slowly, eyes fixed on his advisor's face.
"Thank you, my friend. I will be waiting for all of you, and may the Valar watch over your path."
Glorfindel bowed his head and began to walk down the stairs to where one of his warriors was waiting with his horse, when Elrond added as an afterthought,
"That would be the twenty-fifth time you bring them back here in about seventy years, I think."
The golden haired elf took the reins from the warrior and mounted his horse, waiting for his men to precede him before he turned back to his lord, stubbornly ignoring Erestor who had stopped his horse a few feet away from him. While Glorfindel was still trying to find a diplomatic answer to Elrond's statement, Erestor nodded cheerfully, looking back over his shoulder at the half-elf.
"Yes, my friend, but that is only counting the times our good Lord Glorfindel here brought them back. There were the four times the Prince of Mirkwood found them, and the one time Mithrandir stumbled over them, and the three times various messenger of the Galadhrim saved them. We didn't really help there…"
Glorfindel resisted the urge to burrow his head in his hands. This time of year was apparently interfering with Erestor's intelligence as well. With a rather hasty nod into Elrond's direction he spurred on his horse, forcing Erestor to do the same. After a few seconds they had reached the gates and were following the other warriors over the bridge that arched over one of the deep ravines that surrounded the Last Homely Home, and the golden haired elf turned to the side and glowered at Erestor.
"Did you really think he wanted to hear exactly how many times the twins have almost got themselves killed? Besides, you have been counting?"
The dark haired elf gave Glorfindel a lenient smile that once again awoke in him the powerful urge to kill him – painfully, if somehow possible.
"Of course! Don't tell me you have not been counting, mellon nín?"
Glorfindel spurred on his horse slightly to catch up with the rest of the warriors that were quickly disappearing down the path that led down to the banks of the Bruinen.
"Of course not," he replied curtly.
Erestor's smile grew even more lenient, and Glorfindel's urge to wrap his hands around the dark haired elf's throat and kill him now before he drove him insane even intensified. Why oh why couldn't Erestor be like everyone else when he was feeling adventurous? He would even have taken a lecture on early Adûnaic grammar right now; everything was better than Erestor brimming over with enthusiasm at the prospect of hunting a few orcs.
"You were," Erestor grinned at him. "You told me yourself the night before the last. Just before you wrote that … word on my forehead, if my memory serves me right." The dark haired elf leaned forward a bit, a wicked sparkle appearing in his eyes Glorfindel had never seen in any other person's than in one of the twins'. "That is still something I will have to pay you back for, I believe."
Glorfindel returned the grin in kind, masking the fact that he still had no idea what the word had been.
"That is a question that will need to be addressed after we find the twins and drag what is left of them back to our lord, is it not?" He righted the quiver on his back in a token gesture and looked pointedly at the other elf. "And only if I don't get to you first, my lord."
Erestor didn't look alarmed like he would have done at any other time, and neither did he look properly impressed, Glorfindel noticed with a small stab of annoyance. Even the balrog had looked somewhat concerned when he had looked at it like that, but then again, the balrog had probably not had its adventurous part of the yén either.
"I take that as a challenge then?" the dark haired elf asked, and with another grin he spurred on his horse that seemed to have accepted its fate and obeyed, projecting a rather weary air of acceptance.
Glorfindel watched speechlessly how Erestor moved his horse to the head of the small troupe of warriors, and a sigh escaped his lips as he manoeuvred his horse around a large fallen log that half-way on the path, having been ripped off a tree by the storm last night. Even though storms were never a real problem in Rivendell, the last one had been rather bad, and the grey clouds that were beginning to accumulate at the edge of the horizon promised even more of the same.
The golden haired elf sighed again.
He could truly not see how he should survive this journey, and that was not even beginning to take into account what Elrond would do to him when he returned with what was left of the twins.
Elladan awoke slowly, something he had not consented to, by the way.
If he had had it his way, he would have remained in blissful unconsciousness for the next few ages, but his body seemed to have other ideas. If it had been only his body, he would probably have been able to come to terms with the whole situation and go back to sleep, but, as he found out a few rather confused seconds later, his subconsciousness had decided to rebel against him as well.
He didn't really know why it thought it so important that he woke up and moved, but it was definitely a fact that it did, and, by the Valar, that fact was beginning to greatly annoy him, since slowly his consciousness was being pulled back from that warm, peaceful and comfortable place to another not so warm, peaceful and comfortable one.
No, he decided after a few more minutes, it was clearly neither of the above; to be explicit, it was cold and … wet. Very, very wet, the young elf amended with that certain dreamy feeling that materialised every time he had hit his head on something either very large or very solid – or on something very large and solid.
It took his muddled brain some time to realise that a piece of vital information had just been presented to him: He appeared to have hit his head. Elladan frowned mentally. He couldn't remember when that should have occurred; to be precise, he couldn't remember what had happened at all!
That thought served to bring him yet a little closer to consciousness, and he renewed his efforts to shake off the last dark shreds of sleep that threatened to pull his beleaguered mind under again. No, he decided as he fought himself back to awareness, slowly beginning to take in more of his surroundings, that was not exactly true. He did remember some things, for example rain, and lots of it at that. Rain did in fact explain why he was feeling wet, even though it did not really explain why he was cold as well, for elves usually did not feel things such as these.
After some more minutes, glazed grey eyes opened, the pupils unfocused and moving around unsteadily in their search for something to fix on. Elladan needed some time to understand that he was lying on his left side, and that the strange thing in front of his eyes was his left arm that was half buried in a quagmire of unheard-of dimensions. Which would explain why he couldn't move his head an inch, he nodded inwardly, glad that he had found an explanation for his skull's obvious inability to obey his brain's commands.
There was not much he could see from his position on the ground except his arm and a few rocks and what looked like rather big branches that littered the ground of wherever-he-was, and so he slowly began to push himself into a sitting position, wincing when he heard a soft, sucking noise when he had finally gathered enough strength to lift his head out of the mud. A second later, a sharp pain lanced through his temples, and his hands flew to his aching head, pressing against his skull in an attempt to ease the pain that was located exactly behind his temples.
When the pain had subsided to bearable levels and his brain had apparently decided to give up on its attempts at spontaneous expansion, Elladan slowly removed his shaking hands, only to find that his right came away bloody. He studied the red liquid with a slightly puzzled expression on his face, and began to feel for the gash that had to be somewhere on his face. Finally he found it, a large cut on his forehead that reminded him of something, something important, something he knew he should remember…
While he was still pondering this, his eyes wandered over his surroundings, and he found that he was at what looked as the bottom of a ravine, a rather small one at that. The stony ground was almost entirely covered with dead branches, mud, leaves and even a small tree or two that seemed to have fallen into the gorge not too long ago. The ravine was not nearly as big or deep as the one his father had founded Imladris in; it looked no more than a hundred feet deep or so…
Elladan suddenly gasped and bolted upright, the pain in his protesting body forgotten for the moment. Images flittered through his mind, too quickly for him to identify all of them, but still, the ones he was able to see clearly were enough to freeze his heart in his chest.
The orcs … the sudden storm that had caught up with them sooner than they had thought … Elrohir's face as that arrow hit him … Elrohir's face as he stumbled backwards and fell…
"Elrohir!" he gasped horrified and shot to his feet, only to crumble back to the ground with a barely stifled, hoarse cry. A quick examination revealed the source of his discomfort: His right ankle was swollen to the extent that it resembled more a small boulder than an elven appendage.
The older twin cursed under his breath as he took a closer look at his foot. He reached for the healing bag he knew should be strapped to his back, only to remember that it was either still with his brother – something he fervently hoped – or somewhere … down here. Elladan gave his mud-covered surroundings that very much looked as if they had seen a recent orc invasion a brief glance and decided that, if it was indeed down here, he would never find it again. Scowling darkly, he began to remove his cloak and tear it into strips to somehow support his ankle; he wouldn't be able to climb up that wall otherwise.
A small voice started laughing incredulously at that, but he silenced it quickly. It was the only thing he could do, he thought grimly while he wrapped wet pieces of cloth around his foot, his face contorted with pain, he had to help Elrohir. There was no way his twin had climbed back up since he himself had fallen, and he wasn't down here either, so Elladan reasoned – and prayed – that he was still up that little ledge he could see about forty feet above him.
After some more minutes, he shakily rose to his feet, suppressing a wince when his foot touched the ground. 'It will have to do,' Elladan decided, trying to judge the sun's position which wasn't made easier by the thick clouds that covered the sky. It would start raining soon again, just wonderful…
It was just after sunrise, he decided finally, turning to the cliff face and trying to suppress the shiver that raced across his back when he saw a sharp, ragged rock he had just missed by an inch when he had landed in his little quagmire. A few inches to the right and he would be dead now. He quickly took his mind off that rather depressing topic; sunrise, that meant he had been unconscious for at least seven or eight hours!
Urgency rushed through his mind like a tidal wave; all the things that could have happened to Elrohir since then! It had all been his fault in the first place; it had been his fault his little brother had got hurt. He should have seen the archer sooner, he shouldn't have let it escape when he had fought the others, he should have reached his twin sooner! And then, when he had reached him, he had foolishly neglected to check if the ledge was stable enough, and had promptly fallen off himself!
Elladan shook his head, reaching out with his left hand to grab a slightly protruding rock about a foot above his head and frowning when he noticed the cut he had sustained in the battle yesterday, the cut that looked rather ugly and red now, caked with mud that only served to compound that impression. He ignored his body's discomfort and began to pull himself up the rock face. He was still in much better shape than Elrohir, he berated himself, all he had were some minor cuts, a twisted ankle and a few bruises; nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days. It was his brother who was lying somewhere up there on a tiny ledge, lying there because he had been too slow to help him…
The dark haired elf shook his head slightly, welcoming the pain the movement brought as something that would help him concentrate. He couldn't think of that now, he couldn't think of what Elrohir's body had looked like when he had last seen him, he mustn't, or he would go insane, right here, right now. He couldn't lose his twin, not now, not ever, and certainly not so soon after their mother!
Dark memories once again surfaced, memories of pain, despair and helplessness, and he felt how the lingering echoes of these emotions re-awoke in his heart, stirred to life only to burn stronger and hotter than ever before. Yet another emotion made an appearance: Anger. Anger at the evil fate that had cursed him and those he loved with death and pain, an anger at those who took his loved ones and left him behind with the despair and no way to rid himself of it.
Elladan shook his head again, grabbing once again for a handhold in the ragged wall above his head. Anger would not help him now, it would only make him weak and cloud his judgement; therefore preventing him from coming to Elrohir's aid. There was still hope, Elrohir was still alive, and he would continue telling himself that until he was proven otherwise.
He closed his hand tightly around the stone and hoisted his body up, already looking for the next handhold. He would get to him in time; Elrohir just had to be alive, please Elbereth, let him not be dead…
Slowly Elladan began to climb up the rock face, his body moving automatically now as he searched for hand- and footholds, all the while trying to ignore the nagging fear in his heart that grew with every inch he ascended, a fear that, once again, he would be too late.
TBC...
mellon nín - my friend
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years
One wouldn't have thought it possible, but the twins' luck really turned from bad to worse, huh? *shakes head sadly* Poor elflings... Well, there is one positive thing though: This is no cliffy! *beams* Great, huh? The next chapter has one though, but I never said that. *g* Speaking of which, the next chapter should be here on ... Monday, I think. They're only five all in all, so in roughly a week this fic will be finished anway. It might be quicker if you review! *g* Really, just try it!
Additional A/N:
Jazmin3 Firewing - Really, I mean it. I'm not telling! You will have to use your imagination... *evil grin* Well, be that as it may, I'm sure that Stan and Finarfen would get along just great! We should really let them meet and do balrog stuff together ... you know, elf-roasting, wizard-down-an-abyss-pulling, thing like that. *g* What do you think?
Nikara - Well, I did disappear more or less. I experienced some heavy withdrawal symptoms, and wasn't exactly what you would call amiable company. *g* But that's the past, I got back my internet, got a new IDE drive for my computer so I can use it instead of the laptop (finally! an 14'' screen wasn't exactly fun!) and today I established a network between my computers and my sister's. Now we can do lots of fun stuff! *evil grin* Ah well. Whatever. Thanks a lot for your review, and I'm very glad to hear that you like Glorfindel. Honestly.
Alisha B - *watches her lecture, wincing at several points* Just agree to everything she says, boys ... No, Elladan, don't look at her like that ... *sighs* See? Now she got the balrog and that really ugly cave troll ... oh, this is gonna get messy.... *g* LOL, I REALLY enjoyed the lecture! They most certainly deserved it! I wonder myself how they have managed to survive as long as they have... *shakes head* Reckless elflings. But I'm very thankful that you returned Elrohir to his near-death-situation. I hate it when people kidnap my characters and don't return them to where they found them. *disapproving look* I'm also glad to hear that your cuts are only scratches. Though if I were you, I wouldn't mention these exact words in Elrond's presence. He reacts rather ... erratic when he hears " only a scratch". I dunno why either. He's just weird, I guess... *g* Thanks a lot for your great, slightly weird review! Don't worry though: I love weird! Really!
Mouse5 - *shrugs innocently* I don't know. But you know, as soon as I see a cliff I get this irresistible urge to throw someone off it - might be connected to that... *g* A one shot about Erestor and Glorfindel, huh? I might actually do that, in between stories sometime... Good idea. I'll most certainly think about it. *nods* Yup.
CrazyLOTRfan - *beams* Great I could make you forget school for a while! That's really very nice, and since I know how much you like cliffies: The next chapter has another cliffy, and a rather nice one I think. Not as good as the last one, but not bad either. Thanks a lot for all your wonderful reviews!
Farflung - LOL, you are the first to discover that I think - Trouble and Twins. *g* It's very nice to hear that you somewhat agree with my description of the twins - I always find it rather hard to describe both the 'merry' and the serious side of elves, and especially the twins. I mean, funny is alright, but they're over 2500 years old, for crying out loud! I'm not really sure about the whole question though, I mean about them going to Valinor or not. I mean, there is only this little tidbit somewhere in one of Tolkien's letters or something like that that the twins stayed as well, in the end of RotK or the appendixes it just said they dwelt a long time yet in Middle-Earth. So I somehow always thought that they would sail to Valinor in the end, but that's just my opinion. Thank you very much for your long reviews!
Firnsarnien - Yeah, I kinda figured that you would think that when I got your review for the other story. I'm sorry, but I really want to get this story over with as soon as possible since it WAS Kaeera's birthday story at one point or other. A long time in the past now, unfortunately... Your prediction about elf angst might be correct, but more in the next chapter than in this one. You know, unconsciousness and all that... *waves hand vaguely* And you're right: No CLF this time! Yay!
Kaeera - Na ja, aber ich bin ja einer dieser dummen Perfektionisten. Kein einfaches Leben, aber ich werde nervoes, wenn ich laenger als 5 Tage nicht geupdated habe. Wie heisst es so schoen: So sue me. *g* Und ja, jetzt kommt das, worauf sich dein sadistisches Herz gefreut hat, aber das ist eigentlich eher erst im naechsten Kapitel dran. Aber das kommt ja auch blad, also keine Sorge. LOL, eingewachsene Zehennaegel und Thrombose? Na, das haben die verdient! *g*
Silvertoekee - Yeah, just like all males, aren't they? They just DON'T THINK, in Elbereth's name! I don't know why men/male elves do it... *shrugs* They're kinda stupid, I guess... And no, I won't say anything about the word. Sorry.
Suzi9 - Uhm, yes. I am sadistic, in a way at least, I guess. I mean, it's more my alter ego's fault, but since she's a part of me you're right. Sort of. *g* What in the name of the Three were you doing in the hospital? Are you sick? Ill? Something like that? I really hope you're okay - I would hate to lose a loyal reviewer... *g* Great you like Drákon, I hope I can get him after christmas? The chariot would be nice too, but the dragon is more important. *g*
Mystic Girl1 - Meine Rede. Alles, was juenger als ich ist, ist moralisch verdorben. Ist eine relativ narrensichere Einstellung, glaub mir... Ausserdem habe ich meine Schwester als lebendes Beispiel. Glaub mir, es ist wahr... Wann genau ist dein Geburtstag? Der kommt gleich in meinen Kalender! Und ich gebe zu, dass Elladan's Plan nicht allzu helle war, aber na ja, er stand unter psychischem Druck? Oder so? *g* Schoen, dass du cliffies magst. Ich glaube, ansonsten dreht man bei mir auch ziemlich schnell am Rad... LOL, deine Liebesbrief-Idee gefaellt mir! Schade, dass die Geschichte schon fertig ist, aber na ja... *g* Und: Wenn ich jetzt AEFAE lese, schaudere ich manchmal schon zusammen. Ich mag sie immer noch, ist schliesslich meine erste Geschichte, aber ehrlich... *schuettelt Kopf*
Firegirl353 - *g* Nope, I guess plotting is yet another thing a proper elf lord never does. But ... well, I think our dear Glorfindel is ready to make an exception just this once... Hmm, why does Nili love cliffies so much? I think mainly because she has an evil alter ego. But there might be other reasons. *shrugs* We will never know, I fear... *g* And: London is wonderful! I absolutely LOVE it, the atmosphere is great, even though it's ridiculously expensive. You wouldn't BELIEVE what you pay for a coffee there... *shakes head* But still, more than worth it. If I had £5000 too much a month, I would move there without a second thought. And no, English is not my first language, and Latin is my second. My first is German, which, I guess, makes me a German as well. *shrugs* Stupid language, but what can you do... Great you like the story though, and I fear that you might be right about the sense getting knocked into them. Poor elfsies. *evil grin*
Sabercrazy - I know exactly what you mean. When my internet broke down, the first thing I thought of was that you guys would kill me. *g* I really hate updating too late, especially since I hate it myself when people do it. *g* And yes, I was indeed considering the possibility of Glorfindel torture. I mean, he's just begiing for it, isn't he? *shakes head in disgust* Jeez, I guess I really need professional help... And, technically speaking, a lightsabre is neither sharp nor pointy, is it? *grins openly* And, once again, you're right: To be perfectly honest, I have no intentions of ever explaining what the word etc. is. It would ruin the whole thing, since no matter what I come up with it would never be as funny or weird as what all the other people reading the story have thought of. So, I'll just leave it to everybody's imagination. I'm kinda lazy, I admit it. *g* And yes, I guess the twins' and Aragorn's bad luck has merely rubbed off on Legolas. Bad company, definitely... *g*
A heartfelt Thank You to all my wonderful reviewers! I'm quite busy at the moment, and reviews just cheer me up no matter what! Thanks!