Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.
A/N:
Hmm, I was asked to give you a good reason why I won't disclose what 'the word' is. So, first: I am evil, I like watching you suffer. *g* No, j/k, the more important reason is a little more complex. It's rather hard to explain, but ... well, it's not really important anyway what _I_ think it is, is it? I mean, if I tell you now what I think the word should be, one half of you won't think it one bit funny and the other half will think I'm nuts. That's the way it is in stories: The readers have to use their imagination, and if I would define everything to the last bit it wouldn't be half as interesting. *shrugs* Sorry, that's the best I can do. I hope it made at least a bit sense.
Well, to more important things... It's nice to hear that you enjoy the little Erestor-Glorfindel moments so much (even though I'm ready to bet that a certain golden haired elf lord would NOT agree with that), though I have to admit that there won't be another in this chapter. Don't despair though, both of them will make an appearance in the last chapter, namely the next. It's quite weird that this is already the second to last chapter, but we all knew that this was going to be a short story, right? *shrugs* It's still weird though.
Okay, here is chapter 4, and contrary to what some people appear to think, my alter ego has _not_ taken over my body completely. *g* There IS a little cliffy though, but really only a little one. *nods eagerly* Really. Other than that, Elrohir wakes up from some rather unpleasant dreams to an equally unpleasant reality, Elladan gets the chance to mother his brother and both of them get even wetter. Poor elfsies, I know.
Have fun and review, please!
Chapter 4
Many minutes later than it should have taken him Elladan's cut fingers gripped the ragged edge of the ledge he had fallen off not too long ago, and a few moments later he pulled himself onto the small stone platform, trying his best to ignore his slashed left arm that was beginning to burn with a strange fire with every minute movement.
The dark haired elf, however, paid no attention whatsoever to his own wounds, because all his eyes could see was his brother's crumpled body that lay pressed against the rock face, looking even worse now than it had before. To a casual observer it had to appear that Elrohir had been dumped into a large puddle of mud, had then been dragged over every sharp stone and rock in the vicinity and had then spent the night outside in the rain.
Well, the last part was even correct, Elladan shrugged inwardly, sitting hunched over on his knees. He truly didn't know why he was so tired already; it had been merely a forty-feet-climb, after all! After a few deep, somewhat ragged breaths the older twin crawled over to his brother, sagging in relief when he saw that, however his condition may have worsened in the night, Elrohir was still alive.
Almost as good was his discovery that the small bag with herbs and bandages he had been missing was here, lying just next to Elrohir's left arm where he had dropped it when the ledge had given way. A wave of intense gratitude swept through him; thank Ilúvatar, his brother was still drawing breath…
Elladan leaned forward a bit and brushed a strand of wet hair away from his brother's cut forehead. For all the training in the healing arts he had received he could simply not figure out what to do now; to him it seemed as if there was nothing in his heart and mind but overwhelming, choking worry. Elrohir's face looked chalky under the bruises that were clearly visible in the gloomy light of the clouded morning sun, his breathing was laboured and shallow, and Elladan simply didn't know where to start treating his injuries. He hung his head; all he really wanted right now was to be at home, memories or not, to be safe in the knowledge that his father was there and that everything was being done to help his twin…
After a few moments, he shook his head forcefully, pushing down the despair and self-pity that was beginning to fill his heart. Fact was that their father was not here, and if he didn't do something soon, he would lose his brother, just like he had lost his mother all those years ago…
Alright, he decided, taking a deep breath, he could do it. He would not allow Elrohir to leave him as well! He let his eyes wander over his brother's body. Very well, he would start with the leg; it was probably best if he set it while Elrohir was still unconscious, and the same went for the arrow whose broken shaft was still protruding from the other's shoulder. For a moment he was tempted to bring his brother down into the ravine first, but he could still very well remember his father's voice lecturing them on broken bones and the necessity to set them as soon as possible.
Elladan took out some bandages, his water bottle that had miraculously survived his fall undamaged and the healing herbs that could be administered without the need of boiling them first. He would have liked to have some athelas ready, but beside the fact that most of it was still with their horses that were somewhere in the forest up the cliff, there was no way to get a fire going up here; there simply was not enough space.
Elrond's oldest son took another deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart and to ignore the pain that seemed to throb through his body with every heartbeat, especially in his ankle and his left arm. The rest of him felt merely very, very bruised; it appeared that not even elven bodies survived a forty-feet-fall without some bruises and cuts. Very well, he amended after a second as a mocking voice in his head started roaring with laughter at that, make that a lot of bruises and cuts.
He made a conscious attempt to stop his hands from shaking and pulled a dagger from his belt, using it to slowly cut away what was left of the fabric that had once covered his brother's left leg, which wasn't much anyway. Most of it was torn beyond recognition, and Elladan had to smile a little when it crossed his mind how very upset Elrohir would be about that. His brother's actions were a bit peculiar when it came to destroyed clothing; he always claimed that every orc there was was trying to shred his clothes, and once he had even accused him, Elladan, to be in on the whole "conspiracy".
Well, this would do little to change Elrohir's mind, Elladan thought wryly while he was slowly cutting the cloth away and cleaning the open wounds on the leg with water he had mixed with some anti-inflammatory herbs. His training had completely taken over now, and so he set the broken bones in his brother's leg and merely winced when the other elf's body reared up at the sudden pain that action brought. He didn't allow his worry and fear to interfere with what had to be done, however, and so he had set, cleaned and wrapped the leg after half an hour, praying to the One that he had done it correctly and had not just condemned his twin to spending the rest of his immortal life crippled.
"Splints," he muttered under his breath and looked about himself, trying to find something he could use to stabilise his brother's leg, especially if he wanted to carry him down the cliff. He had given the matter some thought, and had come to the conclusion that he couldn't ascend the cliff face, not in the condition both he and his brother were in at the moment. To climb forty feet down would be easier than to climb sixty feet up, or at least he hoped so. He didn't have a whole lot of other options anyway; he couldn't stay here and wait for a rescue, a possibility that was more than unlikely in his opinion. Elrohir didn't look good at all, and if he didn't get him to a warm, safe place where he could receive some real attention, he wasn't sure if he would…
Elladan gritted his teeth and banished that thought from his mind. It was not worth pursuing, and so he returned his mind to the matters at hand. He reached for a dozen of his brother's arrows that had not been broken in his fall and began to tie them together so that they formed two rather thick bundles. Pressing them against Elrohir's bandaged lower leg, he began to tie the makeshift splints to the appendage, trying very hard not to think of what his father or any other healer would say if he or she saw them – or what Elrohir would say once he saw what he had done to his arrows. His twin wouldn't be happy about this sacrilegious use of his so highly esteemed arrows…
'A good thing it is Elrohir who is injured and not Legolas,' Elladan thought sarcastically, 'That wood-elf would surely strangle me upon awakening had I touched his arrows!'
That thought served to cheer him up a little, and so he started bandaging the rest of his brother's injuries, all the while muttering under his breath and telling the unconscious elf what exactly he thought of his carelessness, thoughtlessness, recklessness and general incompetence. After bandaging Elrohir's bruised ribcage as best as he could he turned his attention to his twin's shoulder. The fall hadn't been too kind to the other elf, and so about half a dozen ribs had been fractured – along with the arrow that accursed goblin had fired.
That would make things harder, Elladan sighed, and carefully braced his body against his brother's, trying to restrict the other's freedom of movement as far as possible. This would be unpleasant, and even though the Valar had shown them their favour for once and granted Elrohir unconsciousness it would hurt, and he knew from experience that his brother could hit rather hard even if not fully aware of his surroundings.
Elladan set his jaw and gripped the broken shaft of the arrow, and with a quick prayer to whichever Vala was willing to listen he began to pull slowly and steadily, trying his best to ignore his brother's reactions. Elrohir's body convulsed and instinctively tried to escape what it perceived to be further harm done to it, and pained moans and whimpers escaped his throat.
It was one of the hardest things Elladan had ever had to do in his life, and that included watching his mother's ship disappear in the distance these 132 years ago, but he didn't let go of the arrow that was slowly beginning to slide out of his brother's shoulder, glistering red in the sparse sunlight. He tried to pay the agonised expression on Elrohir's face no heed and stubbornly continued to pull the broken shaft out of the wound, his hold on it slipping continuously since there was so little wood to hold onto. In the end, the arrow slid out with a final tug, causing the unconscious elf to rear up a last time with a cry before he fell backwards, sweat streaming down his pale face.
Elladan gave the arrow he had just removed a disgusted look and flung it to the side, although not before noticing that there was something else than blood on the arrow tip, the remnants of a dark, thick substance his elven eyes could barely distinguish from the rust-coloured blood that covered the crude projectile.
Poison.
Just wonderful.
He leaned forward again quickly, using one hand to press bandages against the sluggishly bleeding hole in his younger brother's shoulder and one hand to check Elrohir's pulse. It was fast which was to be expected after a procedure such as this one, but felt strong enough for the moment. Elladan closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax a little, using all his remaining willpower to suppress the panic that was threatening to overcome him after all. Elrohir was still alive after more than eight hours after having sustained the injury, so it couldn't have been a very fast-acting poison on the arrow head. However, there were very few orcish poisons that acted immediately; the tales of orc poisoning that dropped the strongest men or elves in a matter of minutes were a myth, so that didn't mean anything...
Elladan forced his thoughts off that topic – a small part of his mind commented that he was avoiding thinking about quite a few things lately – and concentrated on binding the other elf's wound. Elrohir would survive until he had brought him down into the ravine, and Valar willing he would find some water so he could boil what athelas he had. The rangers' camp was only a few hours away, and once he had found a way to get back up into the forest where this whole thing had started, he would be able to get his brother to real help.
The elf nodded as he tied off the last bandage. That sounded like a good plan; well, better than his last one anyway. He looked at his brother's pale face that appeared ghostly white in the sunlight, and reached out with a slightly shaking hand to touch his twin's cheek. Elrohir looked so lifeless, and with his eyelids closed Elladan couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see his brother's grey eyes again…
All of the sudden the full meaning of what could still happen crashed down on him, and he fought the tears that wanted to escape from his eyes. He couldn't lose his brother, he could simply not imagine living without him!
Elladan took a deep breath and pressed his other hand against his unconscious brother's face, looking intently into the pale, still face.
"Listen to me carefully, little brother," he began, his voice trembling. "You will wake up once I have brought you down into the ravine. You will listen to me ranting about how irresponsible you are, you will take whatever medicine I see fit to give you and you will not die! Do you hear me, Elrohir? You – will – not – die! You can't get rid of me so easily, and be assured that I will follow you wherever you go! To the Halls of Mandos and back if I have to, so please spare us that journey, alright, gwanur nín?"
Elladan stared at the face that looked so much like his own, but Elrohir showed no signs that he had heard him, not that the older twin had expected him to, of course. Still, he was disappointed when his brother neither moved nor showed any other sign that he had heard his words, even though he chastised himself immediately for that thought. Reluctantly he pulled back his hands, slowly beginning to accept that Elrohir would wake up at the exact moment he wanted to. He hadn't found any sign of a head injury other than a rather large bump at the back of his head, and to be honest he was beginning to get rather worried about his brother's continuing lack of consciousness.
Elrond's older son moved as far away from his twin as possible – which was about four inches – to prepare everything he needed to bring Elrohir and himself safely down the rock face. He looked at his brother's motionless body, trying his best to convince himself that he would be just fine, and after a second or two he slowly began to shake his head.
Their father would kill him when they got back home, that much was sure.
He was back in the cave, and everything was looking just like it had nearly a yén ago. The heat of the battle still seemed to hang thickly in the air, and the only light sources besides the faint light their bodies emitted naturally were two torches that a pair of warriors held, their eyes dark in their pale faces.
He himself was far beyond pale; everyone who would have set eyes upon him would have instantly mistaken him for a wraith that had come to haunt the living. He knew that his brother beside him looked just the same if not worse, of course he would. Elladan always took all the responsibility on his shoulders, and, this time, he was even right to do so. It had been their fault after all; they shouldn't have let their mother out of their sight for a second, they should have taken more guards with them when they had left their grandmother's realm, they should have fought harder to protect her… They should have done that and oh so many other things, but now it was too late, and all they could do was advance deeper into the seemingly endless cave in the hopes of finding her.
Half an hour ago she had been still alive, for they had been able to hear her screams that echoed deep in the cavern they were now entering. It had been those screams that had prompted them to attack, and outside the battle was still raging on, even though the goblins were definitely on the losing end. Each and every of the Imladris warriors they had brought with them was positively beside himself with fury, and that said nothing about the state of mind the Lórien guards were in that had survived the attack in which the Lady of Rivendell had been taken. They were nearly as grief-stricken as he and his brother, for they had failed the trust their Lord and Lady had placed in them. Many had known Celebrían as a young elfling and had watched her grow into a maiden of rare beauty, and to hear her call out in such obvious distress because they had failed to protect her was enough to make each of them lose their usually so unflappable composure.
Half an hour was a long time though, and none could say what the foul beasts had done to her once they had realised that they had been found and were under attack. It was very well possible that they had killed their prisoner rather than let her be rescued by her people…
That thought seemed to even fuel the rage that burned hotly in his chest, and he quickened his pace, not noticing that the other three elves did the same. He knew that in reality it had taken them long to find the right passage that led them deep under the mountain, but now it seemed as if only a few seconds had gone by before they rounded a corner and came upon a sight that stopped all of them dead in their tracks.
Before them, in a corner of a large, dark cave, was his mother, hunched over herself. Her once white and grey gown was now dirty and torn, and heavy chains bound her slender body to the rock wall. "Slender" wasn't even the right word anymore. Celebrían had always been lithe, but now she looked so frail that a strong wind would have been able to blow her over, and the light her elven body should emit was almost nonexistent.
Next to him, Elladan had already begun to rush forward, horror on his face that would remain there for many long days.
"Naneth! O Elbereth, no!"
His brother raced to his mother's side while he and the two warriors were following more slowly. He felt as if his limbs had frozen as well as his heart, and he stared at his mother's ruined body, trying with all his might to shake off the paralysis that seemed to have laid itself over his senses. O the Valar, it couldn't be true, their mother couldn't be gone, please no…
Elladan had reached the unmoving she-elf and looked up, tears coursing down his cheeks openly.
"She is still alive! She still lives, Elrohir!" He looked at his mother, softly stroking over her matted, lacklustre hair. "Please, nana, you have to wake up! Wake up, please…"
Celebrían remained heedless to her son's pleas, and while Elladan was trying to open the chains that bound her to the wall, he turned, slightly to the left where he was sure something had moved, and really: There was an orc moving along the wall, doing its best to blend into the dark stone of the cave. It was clearly heading into the direction of the exit to hide in one of the other tunnels until the elves were gone, which was a rather clever thing to do, really. He wasn't ready to acknowledge the creature's intelligence, however, and in the fraction of a second he had drawn his long hunting knife and was at the orc's side, slamming it forcefully against the wall, all his hatred, self-reproach and pain blazing in his eyes and turning them the colour of dark grey storm clouds.
The creature struggled to escape his grip but had no chance against the far superior strength of an elf, and he brought his knife closer to the foul being. The orc realised that it was about to die and its mouth twisted into an ugly grimace, showing rotting, pointed teeth. He knew that, before he would slit the dark creature's throat, it would taunt him and the others about their inability to come to his mother's aid sooner and start recounting what exactly he and his companions had done to her, but instead of speaking the jeering words he had heard so many times in his dreams the twisted face in front of him changed into his own, and unfamiliar words spilled from its lips.
"Elrohir! Echuio, pen-olthol!"
Elrohir stared in amazement as the orc, the cave and the other elves disappeared, leaving him in darkness. It took him a while to understand that it had been Elladan's face he had just seen a moment ago, and that it now was Elladan's voice that was beginning to register in his consciousness. The young elf's brain wasn't entirely ready to co-operate, and so he was left wondering what was happening, or, better, what had happened. Why was he here, in a darkness he couldn't penetrate? He couldn't remember what had happened to him that would justify him being in such a state, but while he was still trying to find out what he had done this time he could hear his twin's voice again.
"Albell delio ned i-vôr, gwanur dithen! Ú-bedithon adar o gûr nín!"
Elrohir mentally rolled his eyes at his brother's words, trying even harder than before to shake off the blanket of darkness that was refusing to let him make his way to consciousness. He was absolutely certain that nobody, neither elf, nor dwarf, hobbit or man, could ever be as annoying as Elladan. His older brother knew perfectly well that he loathed being called "little", besides, he had no right calling him that since he was older only by a couple of minutes. And he was not hiding, he was … well, he didn't really know what he was doing, but hiding was not the term he would use. He was trying to wake up, truly, but apart from the fact that his body and subconsciousness were of the opinion that that was an entirely idiotic idea, he didn't seem to possess enough energy to open his eyes which shouldn't be closed in the first place. The young elf frowned inwardly. Why were his eyes closed?
He almost lost himself in the search for an answer to that question, and so he was slightly surprised when he felt two hands cup his face, the fingers feeling cold and wet against the warm skin of his cheeks.
"Elrohir! Lasto enni! Ú-'wanno awarthol nin na nîr a naeth, gwanur nín! Echuio!"
This was all Elrohir could take, and with determination he didn't know he possessed he once again took up the fight against the slowly thinning veil of unconsciousness that sought to separate him from his brother. He might have thought about going back to sleep to escape Elladan's scolding, but that had ceased to be an option after he had heard his twin's anxious, tear-filled voice. He had never been parted from his brother for longer than a few seasons and had seen and heard him in all kinds of situations; and right now, Elladan was very close to despairing, or as close as he had been in 132 years.
He finally managed to open his eyes, blinking owlishly when all he could see at first was a large, multicoloured blob without clear outlines. After a few seconds, the image slowly shifted into a tent-like construction and his twin's face, who appeared to be kneeling next to him and wore a grin so broad that it gave him the distinct appearance of an overjoyed leapfrog.
Elladan grinned at his younger brother as he fought the tears that wanted to surface after all.
"Elrohir! Thank the Valar, you are awake! I was so worried about you; what were you thinking?"
He knew perfectly well that he was babbling and stating the obvious right now, but he couldn't care less. It was nearly midday now and therefore several hours since he had reached the cliff base after a climb – with his twin bound upon his back - he never wanted to repeat in his entire life, and he had been trying to rouse his brother for about three hours now. He had just about come to the decision to put out the fire and move on when Elrohir had shown the first signs of waking.
Elrohir squinted slightly, trying to get rid of the grey spots that still danced across his vision.
"El'dan?" he asked weakly, not having the strength to say more.
The older twin grinned again and nodded his head while his right hand was feeling for the water bottle that should be lying somewhere to his right, next to the fire to be precise.
"Yes, little brother, it is me. You gave me quite a scare, did you know that? You have been unconscious for about twelve hours now!" He found the water skin and uncorked it with the one hand, sliding his other arm under his brother's shoulders to lift him slightly. "Here, drink this, it will help." When he saw the suspicious look that flittered across Elrohir's glazed eyes, he added with slight exasperation, "It is merely water, I promise."
Elrohir accepted the water gratefully, letting his brother help him lie back down after he had drunken as much as he could. He stared up at the other elf with heavily lidded eyes, amazed at how much strength it had cost him to sit up a little and drink a few mouthfuls of water.
"One can never be … sure with you…" he managed in a soft voice after a few seconds. "And … I'm not … little." He watched his brother smile broadly, but before Elladan could start to protest, he added weakly, "What happened, in Elbereth's … name?"
Elladan looked at his brother in concern.
"You remember the fight with the orcs, do you not?" When his twin nodded slowly, he breathed a sigh of relief and shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, that last orc shot you and you fell off the cliff. You landed on a ledge about sixty feet down, so I killed the orc, climbed down and got you down the rest of the way. You have half a dozen broken ribs, an arrow wound in the shoulder, various cuts and bruises and a badly broken leg. All in all, ada will have a fit when he sees you."
Elrohir's eyes wandered unsteadily over the cloth he could see behind his brother, and Elladan added with a smile,
"That's my cloak. I built something like a tiny tent to keep off the rain; it's been raining almost non-stop since yesterday evening. I managed to find some water and could boil the athelas we have…"
"Where's the rest?" Elrohir interrupted him, narrowing his eyes slightly. He couldn't see much of his brother from where he was lying on the ground, but even he could see the large gash on Elladan's forehead and the torn cloth that had once been his twin's left shirtsleeve and that was now covered with a blood-stained bandage.
"With the horses," Elladan answered lightly. "Somewhere," he made a dismissive gesture into the direction of the rock face to their left, "up there, I believe. I didn't have time to get to them before I climbed down." Reading the unspoken question in his brother's eyes, he added, "We have the most basic healing herbs, a few more bandages, our blades, my bow and about twenty arrows. Your bow was broken in the fall, I'm sorry, and so were most of your arrows." Elladan looked suddenly self-conscious and hurried to continue. "In addition to that, our cloaks, a small pot for boiling athelas we don't have anymore, no food, but plenty of water. And that's about it, I believe."
Elrohir's muddled brain needed some time to process what his brother had said.
"Why did you need to boil athelas?"
Elladan looked at his younger brother, concern once again shining in his eyes.
"Did I not mention it? The arrow you caught was poisoned. I think I treated it soon enough, but we really need to get you back to Imladris to have father have a look at you. We are not far from the rangers' camp, and once we find a way out of this ravine it shouldn't take us too long to get there."
"I see," Elrohir mumbled and closed his eyes again, but his lids opened with a start when he remembered what he had wanted to ask Elladan from the start. "What about you? Are you hurt? What about your arm?"
"Just a cut," Elladan shrugged dismissively. "I am fine, just a few bruises and…"
"Brother," Elrohir's lightly scolding voice interrupted him. "Do not lie to me, you never manage to anyway."
Elladan smiled slightly, a sudden intense wave of gratitude slamming through him. Elrohir was alive and awake, thank Ilúvatar…
"I might have cracked my ankle, but other than that I am really alright."
"You cracked an ankle? How did you do that?" Elladan shrugged and didn't make any attempt to answer that question, so his twin continued. "You used all the athelas on me," Elrohir accused his brother, eyes dark in his pale and bruised face. "You haven't washed your cut."
"No," Elladan shrugged again. "It's not infected, truly."
There was no need to mention to his twin that his arm was beginning to ache and his head beginning to feel slightly … fuzzy, for a lack of better word, but they had had so little athelas that he hadn't even needed to think twice about what he should do with it. He had known for sure that Elrohir would most likely die if his wound wasn't tended with the precious herb, and so the choice had been more than easy.
"Elladan…" Elrohir began when a sudden, violent coughing fit seized his body. The older twin quickly stopped putting out the fire and tried to hold his younger brother's seizing body as best as he could, but every hacking cough seemed to drain the younger elf of what little strength he possesses and so he lay barely conscious in his arms after a few moments.
Elladan wiped Elrohir's sweat-covered face with a damp cloth, trying not to wince when he saw the violent trembling that shook the other elf. Elrohir was in no condition to go anywhere, but they simply had no other choice. They needed to get away from here and get help, or his younger brother wouldn't live to see the coming morning. He was already far too weak, and if his wounds remained as poorly treated as they were now…
"Elrohir," he began after a few minutes in which his brother had been lying in his arms with his eyes closed, obviously gathering his strength, "Can you move? We must go and find help for you. Do you think you can manage that, gwanur nín?"
Elrohir simply nodded weakly without opening his eyes, and Elladan carefully lowered his brother onto the ground. He quickly began to collect the few things that had managed to survive the past few hours unscathed and put some more mud on the still smouldering fire to extinguish the flames completely. Slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder, he loosened his cloak where he had tied it to makeshift poles he had driven into the ground to form a tent of sorts, and after making sure that he hadn't forgotten anything he kneeled down next to his brother in the mud and wrapped him into his cloak, ignoring his protests that he didn't need the additional warmth the rather wet fabric provided.
After a short, but rather fierce argument about whether Elrohir would allow his twin to carry him – he would not – the both of them got to their feet, presenting a picture that even the most objective person would have described as wretched. Both were cut and bruised, Elrohir was so covered in bandages that it was barely possible to spy a patch of exposed skin and Elladan sported a wrapped ankle that had roughly the size of a fair-sized boulder.
"Stubborn idiot," Elladan grumbled under his breath. "Always arguing, never thinking about your own good…"
"Look … who's … talking," the younger twin wheezed, doing his best not to pass out on the spot. He didn't want to make everything even harder on his brother; there was no way Elladan could carry him all the way with that ankle of his.
"Be quiet, little brother," Elladan commanded, slinging his left arm around his brother's waist and ignoring the way it seemed to explode with pain at that. "And don't you dare put any pressure on that leg, you hear me? I didn't set it to have you ruin it again."
Elrohir merely nodded, in too much pain for a vocal answer, and so they began to take the first wobbly steps away from the cliff face. After a few dozen yards they reached a small forest that still did nothing to shield them from the torrential rain that was falling again, and Elladan stopped, shaking his head slightly to get rid of the sweat and rain that was running into his eyes. Turning back slightly, he looked back at the cliff that had nearly cost them both their lives, when Elrohir's breathless, already much weaker voice interrupted him.
"He was right, you know."
Elladan turned to look at his brother, who was looking at the rock wall with a far-away look in his eyes. Elrond's older son frowned, but resisted the urge to check his twin for any sign of a developing fever. He could have sworn that the athelas had been enough to rid his brother's body of the orc poison…
"What do you mean, brother? Who was right?"
Elrohir sighed, refraining to shake his head since it was telling him what exactly it would do if he tried.
"Everyone, I guess. Ada. Legolas. Erestor. But I meant Glorfindel."
Elladan closed his eyes and hung his head, but didn't answer. That was exactly what a part of his mind had been telling him ever since he had woken up in the largest puddle of mud he had ever seen or had ever wished to see.
Next to him, Elrohir continued, his voice pained.
"He was right. Nana would not have wanted this."
Elladan fought against the memories that automatically surfaced at the mention of his mother, but they refused to be pushed away, swirling in his mind with the persistence of a pack of wargs trailing an elusive prey. That thought brought the older twin back to their dangerous situation and he started to turn around again, forcing himself not to think about what a pack of hungry wargs would do with them right now.
When he had turned fully around, he began his stumbling, limping walk again, trying his best to carry as much of his brother's weight as possible without collapsing himself. The pain in his ankle was intense, and it took almost all of his strength not to wince every time his foot touched the ground.
They had nearly reached the end of the small wood when Elladan stopped again, looking at his brother whose face was now so pale that one could almost see the blood under the white skin.
"You are right," he whispered softly as he admitted something he had refused to think about for nearly a yén, "She would not have wanted this."
Elrohir merely gave him a small, pain-filled smile, and so the two elven twins took up their walk again, moving on slowly as the rain kept beating down on them.
Half a dozen hours later, darkness was falling, and Elladan was very close to taking his sword, chopping off his brother's head and telling his father that it had been an accident later.
Four hours ago, they had taken a break since both of them had been ready to fall over, Elrohir more than he though. That stubborn, thick-headed, reckless elf had insisted on continuing after a few minutes, and Varda Elentári help him, he didn't know why he had agreed.
Three hours ago both of them had nearly fallen down yet another ravine that had appeared to their left because Elrohir had "stumbled" over a "root", which meant that he had been too tired to go on.
Two hours ago Elladan had stopped and commanded his brother to let him carry him, since he couldn't bear the expression of pure agony on his younger twin's face anymore that he was so desperately trying to hide. Elrohir would hear nothing of it, of course.
One hour ago he had begged Elrohir to let him carry him, and if he had had any strength left, he would even have got down on his knees. This way he had merely looked at him with the biggest, most reproachful grey eyes he could manage right now, to no avail however.
Elrohir had insisted that he was fine, as had been to be expected, but enough was enough. It was getting dark, and he was not stumbling through unknown territory with his little brother who shouldn't even be walking in the first place. Elladan set his jaw and unwittingly tightened his hold on him. He had had definitely enough now.
His eyes wandered over their darkening surroundings quickly, and after a second he steered both of them into the direction of a small copse of trees that could be seen just ahead. Elrohir's laboured breathing sounded impossibly loud in his ears, and so he gave a huge sigh of relief himself when they reached the trees. Not that he was relying on his ears very much right now; he was beginning to hear strange things and the world was beginning to shift in and out of focus in a manner that was beginning to greatly amuse him.
He carefully lowered his brother to the ground, and his thoughts were interrupted when his twin – who rightly shouldn't even be conscious right now – looked at him with reproach in his eyes, his face ashen and lips colourless.
"Why've … we … stopped?"
His brother's gasped words were enough to assure him that he had made the right decision, and as inconspicuously as he could Elladan reached for the small bag of herbs they had still left. Ah, here was the water bottle, now all he needed was some of that root and then…
He looked at the younger elf, trying to come up with something to distract him with.
"I need a rest," he shrugged as he tried to keep his hands that were mixing the powdered root with the water out of his brother's line of sight, not that he would have needed to bother. Elrohir was fully concentrated on not passing out from the pain that throbbed through his body, and would hardly have noticed a herd of oliphaunts had they decided to circle them for an hour or two. The only thing that might have made a faint impression would've been a pack of dancing wargs, and probably not even that.
Elladan looked at his twin, for a moment forgetting that he was planning to drug him into the next age – all for his own good, of course.
"I have been thinking. I think you, Glorfindel, ada and all the others were indeed right."
Elrohir painstakingly opened his eyes and nodded slowly.
"He was. Have you ever thought about what all this would do to father and Arwen?"
His brother winced openly.
"Yes and no. It somehow … never really mattered."
"It does now," Elrohir nodded weakly, his eyes beginning to slide shut again. "I regret many things now, and one of them is that I was too busy seeking revenge this past yén to really pay attention to what my father and little sister needed." He gave Elladan a long look. "And what my stubborn, thick-headed brother needed."
Elladan frowned, his concern reawakening. He didn't like the sound of his brother's words at all.
"Why are you saying this?"
"Because it is the truth," the younger twin shrugged, suppressing a coughing fit and beginning to shiver in his wet clothes. "This … will not bring her back … it will make everything simply worse. And I am too late again … too late to see it, too late to understand…"
Elladan stared wide-eyed at his younger brother, the bottle that held the sleeping potion now forgotten. He had enough presence of mind left to carefully deposit it on the ground before he moved closer to Elrohir, grabbing his good shoulder tightly with both hands.
"Do not talk like this!" he demanded, the words a little bit harsher than he had intended. "It is not too late for anything! We will get back to Rivendell, and ada will heal you and we will listen to his and Glorfindel's Things-young-elf-lords-never-do-speech, understood?" He stared at his younger brother's face, his eyes boring into Elrohir's. "Do not leave me, brother. Not now, and not ever! One day we will journey to the Havens and see naneth again, and until then we will do what she would have wanted us to! Do you hear me? I could not live for all the ages of this world alone! Don't you dare leaving me!"
Elrohir looked back at him, eyes huge and dark, and Elladan wasn't even sure if his twin had really heard what he had said, so much pain and confusion was in the other's eyes.
"You have always been the stronger one. You could … just as ada could when Uncle Elros died…"
Elladan shook his head forcefully, tears shining brightly in his eyes.
"I am not as strong as he, Elrohir. I could not bear losing you and live on – and I wouldn't want to either."
The younger twin's eyes began to glaze over, his mind too exhausted and in too much pain to concentrate on one topic for any amount of time.
"Ada … Why didn't we listen to ada, Elladan? We should have listened to him a long time ago…"
Elladan realised that his brother was now beyond comprehending what was being said to him, and he ruthlessly pushed down the fear and panic that tore at his heart. There was no way Elrohir was going anywhere in the near future; the cold and rain on top of his injuries had finally got the best of him, and internal injuries were always a possibility, one that he definitely did not want to think about…
He simply nodded and pulled his younger brother into his arms, wiping a strand of dripping wet hair out of Elrohir's eyes while his other hand felt for the water bottle.
"You are right, gwanur dithen," he soothed softly, his concern once again spiking when his twin didn't protest against the loathed term. "We were fools, just like we always are … we will tell ada once we get back home, alright?"
Elrohir nodded weakly, and Elladan's fingers finally closed around the water skin he had placed next to him only a minute ago.
"Drink something, Elrohir, please?" The younger twin didn't seem too inclined to comply with his brother's wish, and Elladan tried again, his voice pleading now as he held the bottle close to the other elf's lips. "Come, brother, just a little water, it will help you regain your strength so we can go on and get back home…"
That prospect seemed to make sense to Elrohir, and he obediently drank some of the water Elladan offered him. The older twin took the bottle away and made a mental note to empty it before he went on; the very last thing he wanted was inadvertently drug himself. He would never survive the teasing that would follow him the rest of his life if he did.
Just a few moments later Elrohir's eyes were beginning to slide shut again, a sight that filled his brother with intense worry even though he had been expecting it. The drug worked even faster than it would usually have done due to the elf's severely weakened condition, and in the matter of a minute or two the younger twin found himself on the brink of unconsciousness.
Elrohir was powerless to stop his eyelids that were closing even despite his mental objections, and he sighed almost inaudibly when the pain that wrecked his body lessened.
"Not … fair … should … known…"
Elladan smiled slightly, even though the mirth did not reach his eyes as he tightened his hold on his younger brother.
"Yes, you should have." He suppressed the guilt he felt for deceiving Elrohir like this; it had had to be done. His brother wouldn't allow him to carry him without much protesting, and the jostling it would bring would cause him far too much pain, so this was the other way.
"Sleep, my brother," he added softly as Elrohir's laboured breathing finally evened out, "When you awake we will be at home, with father already waiting to lecture us and give us the look, the one of impending doom and pain he likes so much. All will be well, just sleep…"
The older twin's voice had dropped to a soft murmur, and within a few seconds Elrohir was asleep, causing Elladan to give a great sigh of relief. All he really wanted was lie down and sleep as well, sleep until this horrible weather had passed and, if possible, wake up back home in his own bed, but he knew that this was a very unlikely – not to mention dangerous and foolish – scenario. His recollection of this particular ravine was sketchy at best, but he thought he remembered a small, steep path that led back up which should be a mile or two from here, that was if he was correct about how much ground they had already covered.
Well, if he could get them to that path and, more importantly, up that path, the worst would be over. Elladan didn't even stop to contemplate how in Ilúvatar's name he should manage to carry his brother up a steep, rocky path, with this torrential rain hindering his sight and his movements and feeling the way he did right now, namely as if he had had an argument with an ill-tempered troll and lost. Not that one could have a real argument with a troll anyway, he decided as an afterthought, they were far too stupid for anything that required them to actually think.
The dark haired elf lowered his twin carefully to the ground and wrapped the two cloaks a little more tightly about his shaking frame. He quickly emptied his water bottle and watched dreamily how the liquid spilled onto the ground to add to the already rather large puddle next to him. After a few moments he was ready to go on and scooped his younger brother up in his arms, turning him slightly so that his head rested against his chest and at least his face was somewhat protected from the torrential rain.
Elladan gave the almost pitch-black sky a quick look, trying to judge their position, but it proved to be in vain. Thick grey clouds covered the heavens, and not even his sharp elven eyes were able to see even one star. That only served to make the despair in his heart grow stronger, and with a rather hopeless shake of his head he took the first step forwards, wobbling slightly as his ankle threatened to give out under the two elves' combined weight.
It didn't get better with time as he was trying to convince himself, and a few hours later, at about midnight, his strength was beginning to desert him. He had reached the path he had been looking for about an hour ago, having moved far more slowly than he had anticipated or hoped. Elrohir's weight seemed to have doubled some time in the past few hours and yet he pressed on, trying to ignore the signals his body emitted that very clearly stated that it would collapse rather soon if he didn't stop on his own account.
That, however, was the one thing Elladan could not do while he still had some strength left, and so he ignored his throbbing arm as best as he could as well as his ankle that had left the stage of throbbing behind a long time ago and was quickly reaching the stage of agonising pain. If he had needed some proof that the cut on his left arm had been poisoned, it had presented itself about an hour ago when the path in front of his eyes had begun to split in two, leaving him to guess which one was real and which one only a figment of his feverish mind.
The path. Valar, he was beginning to hate it.
It had clearly not been constructed to be climbed in the dark, not even by one of the firstborn, and certainly not by one of the firstborn who did not have the use of his hands and was carrying another person. In actual fact, it was too narrow, too steep and too stony, but Elladan wasn't prepared to let that stop him.
Or, to be more precise, he hadn't been prepared to let that stop him, because right now, he didn't think that he would be able to go on. His lungs were burning, and if his vision deteriorated any more, he would be effectively blind, and he didn't think that that was such a good idea considering the terrain unless he wanted to fall down several dozen feet again, which he did not, by the way. Under no circumstances, thank you very much.
Elladan stopped for a moment, cocking his head to the side which turned out to be not such a good idea since the two paths in front of his eyes began to sway dangerously at that. The young elf ignored the paths' strange behaviour and tried to concentrate, but the small sound that had alerted him wasn't to be heard again over the falling rain and the howling of the wind.
After a few moments he decided that he was probably imagining things – not that that surprised him – and took another step forward, cursing under his breath when the ground crumbled under his very feet. The constant rain was beginning to wash away the earth that covered the path, leaving the sheer rocks on which navigating in this kind of weather was even harder. The darkness did little to aid him either, since there was absolutely no moon to be seen and all the light there was emanated from their elven bodies, or to be honest, from his elven body. Elrohir's light had dimmed to a very faint glow and was barely visible, and now that he thought about it, his own light should have been a lot stronger as well.
Elladan doggedly continued climbing up the path, but after a few more minutes he stopped, a frown appearing on his cut face. This time he was sure he had heard it: Footsteps that were coming closer, nearing their position rather quickly. The older twin's brain needed some time to realise what that meant: Someone was coming down the path, and more than one someone at that. He wasn't sure how many, but the one thing he was sure about was that it were no elves. He wasn't able to discern more, so it could have been everything from hobbits to orcs to men to cave trolls to various other things, most of them sounding not so good at the moment.
Elrond's older son looked about him with wild, desperate eyes, knowing full well that he was not up for a fight. Elrohir wouldn't wake for a long time since he had put all of the root into the water, and there seemed to be no way of escape; no small cave, no forest, not even a protruding rock that promised cover and shelter, and they were still at least half an hour's climb away from the ground level.
The footsteps grew nearer, and an impotent, overwhelming fury began to wrap itself around Elladan's heart. If these were indeed orcs, they would both die now after all, after all what they'd already mastered and so close to their goal. It was not fair, simply not fair…
Elladan squared his aching shoulders and slowly bent down to deposit his brother gently on the ground, almost falling to his knees in the process. He gave his unconscious brother a long, guilt-filled look before he straightened up again.
"I am sorry, Elrohir," he whispered softly as he silently unsheathed his sword, not trusting his left arm enough to draw a bow, "It appears that we are both too late, my brother."
He took a deep breath and walked forward a few paces, stopping after a few dozen yards when he reached a section of the path that was actually quite level and broad enough for two beings to stand abreast. This was the best spot for a fight he had seen in a long time, and if these beings that were closing in on them were looking for a fight, he was more than willing to give it to them. If they wanted to get to Elrohir, they would have to kill him first, and he was not going easily or without a fight.
Holding his sword in front of him in a ready position, Elladan fought the grey spot that were beginning to cloud his vision and, with the patience that most of the firstborn possessed, waited. He didn't have to wait long though, for after only a minute or two even his feverish senses detected the presence of at least five beings that were nearly upon him now.
A second later, six dark shadows appeared in his line of vision and split up immediately when they saw the motionless figure of the dark haired elf, four pressing themselves against the rock face on the one side of the path while the two other remained in the middle of the steep road, coming slowly closer.
Elladan was trying to think of something to say, but he was fully concentrated on staying on his feet and trying to decide which ones of the twelve figures in front of him were real, and so he merely stood there, watching the others come closer with emotionless eyes.
The two figures stopped a few feet from him, and try as he might, the young elf could not see who or even of what race they were; all his muddled brain could understand was that they were tall, hooded beings that were definitely not elves.
The taller of the two beings lifted his head, his face still shrouded in the shadows of his hood, and cocked his head slightly to the side before he reached up and threw back his cape, exposing his head to the rain that was still pouring down on them.
"Well, well, well, my friends, what have we got here?"
TBC...
gwanur nín - my (twin) brother
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years
naneth - mother
nana - mother (mummy)
Echuio, pen-olthol - Wake up, dreaming one
Albell delio nedh i-vôr, gwanur dithen - It is weak to hide in the darkness, little (twin) brother
Ú-bedithon ada o gûr nín - I will not tell father of your death
Elrohir, lasto enni! Ú-'wanno awarthol nin na nír a naeth! - Elrohir, listen to me! Do not die leaving me to grief and despair!
Yet another little A/N:
I should probably explain a few things before I get many reviews telling me how wrong my Elvish is - which it isn't, btw, but still. So, most of you will probably know the Sindarin word for 'little', namely 'tithen'. Most people who want to say 'little brother' say 'gwador (or 'gwanur', the same principle applies) tithen', which, to be frank, is wrong. It is correct that the adjective is placed behind the noun it refers to, but in that position the adjective undergoes Lenition, or Soft Mutation. Lenition causes the first letter of the adjective to change, in the case of 't' as in 'tithen' into 'd'. Try to say it, it's really easier and softer to pronounce which is the reason for the whole thing in the first place. So, according to Sindarin grammatical rules, 'little brother' means 'gwador/gwanur/muindor dithen'. Sorry about the lecture, but that's the way it is. *g*
I know it's a cliffy, but see it this way: It's this story's _last_ cliffy! *g* That of course is because it's also this story's second to last chapter, but ah well, it's _something_, isn't it? Okay, so the next chapter once again wraps everything up nicely, we see a little bit more of Erestor and Glordindel, and of course Elrond who gets due opportunity to give his sons the look. It should be here on ... Thursday or Friday, more probably Friday but I'll see what I can do. Reviews, as always, might influence that decision. *g* Positively, of course.
Additional A/N:
Iverson - *blushes* Oh, no, I've had much worse cliffies - but it's a very nice thing to say nonetheless. Thank you! I am indeed not really _trying_ to get Elladan to be confused, scared, hurt and worried at the same time, he just _is_. I swear it, all these emotions come from the characters themselves, which sounds really stupid now that I think about it, but ah well. It's true. *shrugs* Don't worry though, Elrohir won't be unconscious all the time. He's a little bit awake next chapter, and also a little in this one. Not much, but better than nothing, right? *g* Me? A gift for understatement? A little bit I guess, yes. I love understatements, really... *g* And trust me, I _wanted_ to stop there, but I don't post chapters under 12 pages. I also try to keep them shorter than 15, but that almost never works. *sighs* The characters just refuse to shut up, curse them. But don't worry: I LOVE death threats. I really do. Sorry I couldn't make it Sunday, though. Hope this is still okay!
Maranwe1 - LOL, I don't know whether or not Arwen ever had trouble with cliffs! By now, however, I think it's genetic or at least passed on through prolongued exposure to or contact with those with the clifffaller-gene, so there is a good chance. *g* Hmm, judging by what you describe, I think you'rew getting sick. *peers intently into her face* Are you? I wouldn't want you to get sick - but then again, loads pf people ARE getting sick right now, so... *trails off* I AM talking a lot of nonesense right about now, huh? Ah, just ignore me; everyone with a brain does anyway. *shrugs and walks off*
Nikara - Oh, reviews ALWAYS cheer me up, even though I have to admit that they don't always make me update faster. I'm kinda evil that way, I know. And I totally agree: Being brought back home barely alive that many times is a bloody awful lot. The twins are stupid, I've always said it. *g*
Silvertoekee - *g* Yeah, you know how twins allegedly always think the same and sustain injuries in the same places and so on? I thought I shouldn't just push one of them off the cliff - besides, I enjoy watching them suffer. *g* *gives her a huggle from her alter ego* My alter ego is very glad that _someone_ likes her. Thanks.
Firnsarnien - LOL, my alter ego has taken over my body, hm? That's indeed a rather interesting idea, and it would in fact explain a lot, but ... no. *evil grin* Don't worry, I'm still me, I'm just a little ... influenced by my dear alter ego. That's all. *creepy, alter-ego-style grin* See? Nothing to worry about... The whole thing reminds me of the body snatchers, mind you...*g* And of course my alter ego's mean, but that still doesn't mean I can jsut kick her around. That would be ... mean?
Firniswin - Great you enjoyed the angst. Elladan, Elrohir & Co. somehow didn't seem to, I don't know why either ... they're just weird, I guess... *g* And to be honest, yes, I am thinking about becoming a writer. I would love to, but if I really should become one, I would definitely not write Fantasy. Believe it or not, I don't really like it, I'm more a thriller/action adventure/historical novel kind of person. Weird mix, I know. So, If I should ever be published it wouldn't be Fantasy, sorry.
Farflung - *g* Yeah, you know that saying... 'And out of the chaos a voice spoke to me, saying: Smile and be merry, for it could get worse. And I smiled and was merry, and it did get worse. *g* That's my motto... Yup, I think Glorfindel is to be pitied, and Elrond does indeed owe him now. Staying home would be the sensible thing to do, actually, but what would we be writing about then? Hmm, now that I think about it, more than 70% of all accidents happen at home, so I MIGHT be able to think of something... *g* I am glad you're enjoying this so much, thanks for the review!
Suzi9 - Okay, I'm gonna ask. I know that, strictly speaking, it's none of my business, but: What has this person instructed you in? Knife fighting? Mugging for beginners? Advanced cooking techniques? How did you manage to get a bloody knife stuck into your arm?? And somehow I always thought you were English, what are you then, Welsh or Scottish or something? That would at least explain the non-English-speaking village - hmm, not really but still... Be that as it may, I'm not really intent on hurting Elrohir, really. This was Kaeera's idea, more or less, so it's she who likes our dear elven twin half-dead and so on. I am innocent, at least this time. *g* Hmm, a how Legolas and Aragorn meet story... I could do that, sometime. When I have a little time, in between stories; I'll think about it. Okay? And please, keep Drákon away from the lembas. A dragon without teeth is not really that intimidating, now is he? Well, I hope your arm is better! *huggles*
Firegirl353 - Well, technically speaking, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen aren't half-elves or quarter-elves. Since Elrond is 9/16 elf, 3/8 man and 1/16 Maia and Celebrían a full elf, they're *takes deep breath* 25/32 elf, 1/32 Maia and 3/16 man. Half-elf is just a title, meaning that they're able to chose to which people they want to belong to (I guess chosing Maia is out of the picture since their heritage is so small). *re-reads sentence* It wasn't supposed to be a lecture, sorry. I guess you knew that anyway. And don't tempt me, there's still a lot MORE pain and angst I can put them through... *evil grin* From everything I've heard, elven horses are indeed very loyal to their masters and vice versa. Real horses are dumb, just like my sister's which is also very evil. I swear it, it hates me and would gladly see me dead. In fact, I based Rashwe on her horse; the two of them are so much alike that it's almost scary. *g* This is set about three hundred years before Aragorn's birth (III, 2931), in III, 2642. *huggles* Thanks for the long review!
CrazyLOTRfan - Great I could make you happy, even though we didn't really disciover what happened to Elrohir. Ah well, better than nothing, right... I've always wanted to thank you for all your reviews, so I guess I could just as well do it here. So: Thank you! *huggles* Okay, done.
Christine - Of course the twins run away when they see you coming! *shakes head* You have to wait behind a large tree and strike when they least expect it! Surprise them! They mustn't see you before it's too late! *g* Try it that way, that might just work... Thanks for the review!
Prince Tyler Briefs - I guess they have worse luck than everyone else - with the possible exception of Aragorn and Legolas, of course. *g* And see? I posted Monday? This is Monday, right? Right? *runs off to check the calendar* Phew, it is. You had me worried there for a moment. *g*
Jazmin3 Firewing - So, I hope that was a good reason. It's quite hard to explain, but it's YOUR story, so to speak, so you'll have to use your imagination. Sorry I can't really explain it in a way you can all understand. *sighs* I'm a cretin. And what about I bring Stan with me next post? So when you review you can bring Finarfen and they can have some fun! Yay them! *g*
Mystic Girl1 - Na, wenn du DAS kurz nennst... *g* Ich hoffe, deinen Oehrchen geht es besser? Denn mit Mittelohrentzuendung Geburtstag feiern kann einfach nur unlustig sein... Also Gute Besserung! Andererseits, so kannst du doch zu Hause bleiben, oder? Und das mit den Knochenbruechen war eigentlich gar nicht meine Idee! Ich mein, ja, es WAR meine Idee, aber es war Kaeeras darueber zu schreiben. ICH wollte das gar nicht und wasche damit meine Haende in Unschuld... *g* Hmm, und du muss immer bedenken, dass man Dinge auch _runter_ bekommen kann. Das kann manchmal ein bisschen einfacher sein... LOL, Rettungskommando Glorfindel-Erestor KG? Rettungseinheit der Dúnedain GmbH? Sag mal, was fuer Schmerzmittel nimmst du eigentlich?? *g* Zu starke anscheinend... Die entflohenen Verrrueckten Vier? Ich glaube doch ganz stark, dass du Probleme hast... *g* Also, ich hoffe, den Ohren gehst es besser, danke fuer die 'kurze' Review!
Thanks again to all of you, I am right now busy finding a good DVD Ripper and am in the process of despairing. *shakes head* Very frustrating. I really want one which produces output files with a size of more than two inches, which appears to be impossible. *sighs* Bloody computer.
A/N:
Hmm, I was asked to give you a good reason why I won't disclose what 'the word' is. So, first: I am evil, I like watching you suffer. *g* No, j/k, the more important reason is a little more complex. It's rather hard to explain, but ... well, it's not really important anyway what _I_ think it is, is it? I mean, if I tell you now what I think the word should be, one half of you won't think it one bit funny and the other half will think I'm nuts. That's the way it is in stories: The readers have to use their imagination, and if I would define everything to the last bit it wouldn't be half as interesting. *shrugs* Sorry, that's the best I can do. I hope it made at least a bit sense.
Well, to more important things... It's nice to hear that you enjoy the little Erestor-Glorfindel moments so much (even though I'm ready to bet that a certain golden haired elf lord would NOT agree with that), though I have to admit that there won't be another in this chapter. Don't despair though, both of them will make an appearance in the last chapter, namely the next. It's quite weird that this is already the second to last chapter, but we all knew that this was going to be a short story, right? *shrugs* It's still weird though.
Okay, here is chapter 4, and contrary to what some people appear to think, my alter ego has _not_ taken over my body completely. *g* There IS a little cliffy though, but really only a little one. *nods eagerly* Really. Other than that, Elrohir wakes up from some rather unpleasant dreams to an equally unpleasant reality, Elladan gets the chance to mother his brother and both of them get even wetter. Poor elfsies, I know.
Have fun and review, please!
Chapter 4
Many minutes later than it should have taken him Elladan's cut fingers gripped the ragged edge of the ledge he had fallen off not too long ago, and a few moments later he pulled himself onto the small stone platform, trying his best to ignore his slashed left arm that was beginning to burn with a strange fire with every minute movement.
The dark haired elf, however, paid no attention whatsoever to his own wounds, because all his eyes could see was his brother's crumpled body that lay pressed against the rock face, looking even worse now than it had before. To a casual observer it had to appear that Elrohir had been dumped into a large puddle of mud, had then been dragged over every sharp stone and rock in the vicinity and had then spent the night outside in the rain.
Well, the last part was even correct, Elladan shrugged inwardly, sitting hunched over on his knees. He truly didn't know why he was so tired already; it had been merely a forty-feet-climb, after all! After a few deep, somewhat ragged breaths the older twin crawled over to his brother, sagging in relief when he saw that, however his condition may have worsened in the night, Elrohir was still alive.
Almost as good was his discovery that the small bag with herbs and bandages he had been missing was here, lying just next to Elrohir's left arm where he had dropped it when the ledge had given way. A wave of intense gratitude swept through him; thank Ilúvatar, his brother was still drawing breath…
Elladan leaned forward a bit and brushed a strand of wet hair away from his brother's cut forehead. For all the training in the healing arts he had received he could simply not figure out what to do now; to him it seemed as if there was nothing in his heart and mind but overwhelming, choking worry. Elrohir's face looked chalky under the bruises that were clearly visible in the gloomy light of the clouded morning sun, his breathing was laboured and shallow, and Elladan simply didn't know where to start treating his injuries. He hung his head; all he really wanted right now was to be at home, memories or not, to be safe in the knowledge that his father was there and that everything was being done to help his twin…
After a few moments, he shook his head forcefully, pushing down the despair and self-pity that was beginning to fill his heart. Fact was that their father was not here, and if he didn't do something soon, he would lose his brother, just like he had lost his mother all those years ago…
Alright, he decided, taking a deep breath, he could do it. He would not allow Elrohir to leave him as well! He let his eyes wander over his brother's body. Very well, he would start with the leg; it was probably best if he set it while Elrohir was still unconscious, and the same went for the arrow whose broken shaft was still protruding from the other's shoulder. For a moment he was tempted to bring his brother down into the ravine first, but he could still very well remember his father's voice lecturing them on broken bones and the necessity to set them as soon as possible.
Elladan took out some bandages, his water bottle that had miraculously survived his fall undamaged and the healing herbs that could be administered without the need of boiling them first. He would have liked to have some athelas ready, but beside the fact that most of it was still with their horses that were somewhere in the forest up the cliff, there was no way to get a fire going up here; there simply was not enough space.
Elrond's oldest son took another deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart and to ignore the pain that seemed to throb through his body with every heartbeat, especially in his ankle and his left arm. The rest of him felt merely very, very bruised; it appeared that not even elven bodies survived a forty-feet-fall without some bruises and cuts. Very well, he amended after a second as a mocking voice in his head started roaring with laughter at that, make that a lot of bruises and cuts.
He made a conscious attempt to stop his hands from shaking and pulled a dagger from his belt, using it to slowly cut away what was left of the fabric that had once covered his brother's left leg, which wasn't much anyway. Most of it was torn beyond recognition, and Elladan had to smile a little when it crossed his mind how very upset Elrohir would be about that. His brother's actions were a bit peculiar when it came to destroyed clothing; he always claimed that every orc there was was trying to shred his clothes, and once he had even accused him, Elladan, to be in on the whole "conspiracy".
Well, this would do little to change Elrohir's mind, Elladan thought wryly while he was slowly cutting the cloth away and cleaning the open wounds on the leg with water he had mixed with some anti-inflammatory herbs. His training had completely taken over now, and so he set the broken bones in his brother's leg and merely winced when the other elf's body reared up at the sudden pain that action brought. He didn't allow his worry and fear to interfere with what had to be done, however, and so he had set, cleaned and wrapped the leg after half an hour, praying to the One that he had done it correctly and had not just condemned his twin to spending the rest of his immortal life crippled.
"Splints," he muttered under his breath and looked about himself, trying to find something he could use to stabilise his brother's leg, especially if he wanted to carry him down the cliff. He had given the matter some thought, and had come to the conclusion that he couldn't ascend the cliff face, not in the condition both he and his brother were in at the moment. To climb forty feet down would be easier than to climb sixty feet up, or at least he hoped so. He didn't have a whole lot of other options anyway; he couldn't stay here and wait for a rescue, a possibility that was more than unlikely in his opinion. Elrohir didn't look good at all, and if he didn't get him to a warm, safe place where he could receive some real attention, he wasn't sure if he would…
Elladan gritted his teeth and banished that thought from his mind. It was not worth pursuing, and so he returned his mind to the matters at hand. He reached for a dozen of his brother's arrows that had not been broken in his fall and began to tie them together so that they formed two rather thick bundles. Pressing them against Elrohir's bandaged lower leg, he began to tie the makeshift splints to the appendage, trying very hard not to think of what his father or any other healer would say if he or she saw them – or what Elrohir would say once he saw what he had done to his arrows. His twin wouldn't be happy about this sacrilegious use of his so highly esteemed arrows…
'A good thing it is Elrohir who is injured and not Legolas,' Elladan thought sarcastically, 'That wood-elf would surely strangle me upon awakening had I touched his arrows!'
That thought served to cheer him up a little, and so he started bandaging the rest of his brother's injuries, all the while muttering under his breath and telling the unconscious elf what exactly he thought of his carelessness, thoughtlessness, recklessness and general incompetence. After bandaging Elrohir's bruised ribcage as best as he could he turned his attention to his twin's shoulder. The fall hadn't been too kind to the other elf, and so about half a dozen ribs had been fractured – along with the arrow that accursed goblin had fired.
That would make things harder, Elladan sighed, and carefully braced his body against his brother's, trying to restrict the other's freedom of movement as far as possible. This would be unpleasant, and even though the Valar had shown them their favour for once and granted Elrohir unconsciousness it would hurt, and he knew from experience that his brother could hit rather hard even if not fully aware of his surroundings.
Elladan set his jaw and gripped the broken shaft of the arrow, and with a quick prayer to whichever Vala was willing to listen he began to pull slowly and steadily, trying his best to ignore his brother's reactions. Elrohir's body convulsed and instinctively tried to escape what it perceived to be further harm done to it, and pained moans and whimpers escaped his throat.
It was one of the hardest things Elladan had ever had to do in his life, and that included watching his mother's ship disappear in the distance these 132 years ago, but he didn't let go of the arrow that was slowly beginning to slide out of his brother's shoulder, glistering red in the sparse sunlight. He tried to pay the agonised expression on Elrohir's face no heed and stubbornly continued to pull the broken shaft out of the wound, his hold on it slipping continuously since there was so little wood to hold onto. In the end, the arrow slid out with a final tug, causing the unconscious elf to rear up a last time with a cry before he fell backwards, sweat streaming down his pale face.
Elladan gave the arrow he had just removed a disgusted look and flung it to the side, although not before noticing that there was something else than blood on the arrow tip, the remnants of a dark, thick substance his elven eyes could barely distinguish from the rust-coloured blood that covered the crude projectile.
Poison.
Just wonderful.
He leaned forward again quickly, using one hand to press bandages against the sluggishly bleeding hole in his younger brother's shoulder and one hand to check Elrohir's pulse. It was fast which was to be expected after a procedure such as this one, but felt strong enough for the moment. Elladan closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax a little, using all his remaining willpower to suppress the panic that was threatening to overcome him after all. Elrohir was still alive after more than eight hours after having sustained the injury, so it couldn't have been a very fast-acting poison on the arrow head. However, there were very few orcish poisons that acted immediately; the tales of orc poisoning that dropped the strongest men or elves in a matter of minutes were a myth, so that didn't mean anything...
Elladan forced his thoughts off that topic – a small part of his mind commented that he was avoiding thinking about quite a few things lately – and concentrated on binding the other elf's wound. Elrohir would survive until he had brought him down into the ravine, and Valar willing he would find some water so he could boil what athelas he had. The rangers' camp was only a few hours away, and once he had found a way to get back up into the forest where this whole thing had started, he would be able to get his brother to real help.
The elf nodded as he tied off the last bandage. That sounded like a good plan; well, better than his last one anyway. He looked at his brother's pale face that appeared ghostly white in the sunlight, and reached out with a slightly shaking hand to touch his twin's cheek. Elrohir looked so lifeless, and with his eyelids closed Elladan couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see his brother's grey eyes again…
All of the sudden the full meaning of what could still happen crashed down on him, and he fought the tears that wanted to escape from his eyes. He couldn't lose his brother, he could simply not imagine living without him!
Elladan took a deep breath and pressed his other hand against his unconscious brother's face, looking intently into the pale, still face.
"Listen to me carefully, little brother," he began, his voice trembling. "You will wake up once I have brought you down into the ravine. You will listen to me ranting about how irresponsible you are, you will take whatever medicine I see fit to give you and you will not die! Do you hear me, Elrohir? You – will – not – die! You can't get rid of me so easily, and be assured that I will follow you wherever you go! To the Halls of Mandos and back if I have to, so please spare us that journey, alright, gwanur nín?"
Elladan stared at the face that looked so much like his own, but Elrohir showed no signs that he had heard him, not that the older twin had expected him to, of course. Still, he was disappointed when his brother neither moved nor showed any other sign that he had heard his words, even though he chastised himself immediately for that thought. Reluctantly he pulled back his hands, slowly beginning to accept that Elrohir would wake up at the exact moment he wanted to. He hadn't found any sign of a head injury other than a rather large bump at the back of his head, and to be honest he was beginning to get rather worried about his brother's continuing lack of consciousness.
Elrond's older son moved as far away from his twin as possible – which was about four inches – to prepare everything he needed to bring Elrohir and himself safely down the rock face. He looked at his brother's motionless body, trying his best to convince himself that he would be just fine, and after a second or two he slowly began to shake his head.
Their father would kill him when they got back home, that much was sure.
He was back in the cave, and everything was looking just like it had nearly a yén ago. The heat of the battle still seemed to hang thickly in the air, and the only light sources besides the faint light their bodies emitted naturally were two torches that a pair of warriors held, their eyes dark in their pale faces.
He himself was far beyond pale; everyone who would have set eyes upon him would have instantly mistaken him for a wraith that had come to haunt the living. He knew that his brother beside him looked just the same if not worse, of course he would. Elladan always took all the responsibility on his shoulders, and, this time, he was even right to do so. It had been their fault after all; they shouldn't have let their mother out of their sight for a second, they should have taken more guards with them when they had left their grandmother's realm, they should have fought harder to protect her… They should have done that and oh so many other things, but now it was too late, and all they could do was advance deeper into the seemingly endless cave in the hopes of finding her.
Half an hour ago she had been still alive, for they had been able to hear her screams that echoed deep in the cavern they were now entering. It had been those screams that had prompted them to attack, and outside the battle was still raging on, even though the goblins were definitely on the losing end. Each and every of the Imladris warriors they had brought with them was positively beside himself with fury, and that said nothing about the state of mind the Lórien guards were in that had survived the attack in which the Lady of Rivendell had been taken. They were nearly as grief-stricken as he and his brother, for they had failed the trust their Lord and Lady had placed in them. Many had known Celebrían as a young elfling and had watched her grow into a maiden of rare beauty, and to hear her call out in such obvious distress because they had failed to protect her was enough to make each of them lose their usually so unflappable composure.
Half an hour was a long time though, and none could say what the foul beasts had done to her once they had realised that they had been found and were under attack. It was very well possible that they had killed their prisoner rather than let her be rescued by her people…
That thought seemed to even fuel the rage that burned hotly in his chest, and he quickened his pace, not noticing that the other three elves did the same. He knew that in reality it had taken them long to find the right passage that led them deep under the mountain, but now it seemed as if only a few seconds had gone by before they rounded a corner and came upon a sight that stopped all of them dead in their tracks.
Before them, in a corner of a large, dark cave, was his mother, hunched over herself. Her once white and grey gown was now dirty and torn, and heavy chains bound her slender body to the rock wall. "Slender" wasn't even the right word anymore. Celebrían had always been lithe, but now she looked so frail that a strong wind would have been able to blow her over, and the light her elven body should emit was almost nonexistent.
Next to him, Elladan had already begun to rush forward, horror on his face that would remain there for many long days.
"Naneth! O Elbereth, no!"
His brother raced to his mother's side while he and the two warriors were following more slowly. He felt as if his limbs had frozen as well as his heart, and he stared at his mother's ruined body, trying with all his might to shake off the paralysis that seemed to have laid itself over his senses. O the Valar, it couldn't be true, their mother couldn't be gone, please no…
Elladan had reached the unmoving she-elf and looked up, tears coursing down his cheeks openly.
"She is still alive! She still lives, Elrohir!" He looked at his mother, softly stroking over her matted, lacklustre hair. "Please, nana, you have to wake up! Wake up, please…"
Celebrían remained heedless to her son's pleas, and while Elladan was trying to open the chains that bound her to the wall, he turned, slightly to the left where he was sure something had moved, and really: There was an orc moving along the wall, doing its best to blend into the dark stone of the cave. It was clearly heading into the direction of the exit to hide in one of the other tunnels until the elves were gone, which was a rather clever thing to do, really. He wasn't ready to acknowledge the creature's intelligence, however, and in the fraction of a second he had drawn his long hunting knife and was at the orc's side, slamming it forcefully against the wall, all his hatred, self-reproach and pain blazing in his eyes and turning them the colour of dark grey storm clouds.
The creature struggled to escape his grip but had no chance against the far superior strength of an elf, and he brought his knife closer to the foul being. The orc realised that it was about to die and its mouth twisted into an ugly grimace, showing rotting, pointed teeth. He knew that, before he would slit the dark creature's throat, it would taunt him and the others about their inability to come to his mother's aid sooner and start recounting what exactly he and his companions had done to her, but instead of speaking the jeering words he had heard so many times in his dreams the twisted face in front of him changed into his own, and unfamiliar words spilled from its lips.
"Elrohir! Echuio, pen-olthol!"
Elrohir stared in amazement as the orc, the cave and the other elves disappeared, leaving him in darkness. It took him a while to understand that it had been Elladan's face he had just seen a moment ago, and that it now was Elladan's voice that was beginning to register in his consciousness. The young elf's brain wasn't entirely ready to co-operate, and so he was left wondering what was happening, or, better, what had happened. Why was he here, in a darkness he couldn't penetrate? He couldn't remember what had happened to him that would justify him being in such a state, but while he was still trying to find out what he had done this time he could hear his twin's voice again.
"Albell delio ned i-vôr, gwanur dithen! Ú-bedithon adar o gûr nín!"
Elrohir mentally rolled his eyes at his brother's words, trying even harder than before to shake off the blanket of darkness that was refusing to let him make his way to consciousness. He was absolutely certain that nobody, neither elf, nor dwarf, hobbit or man, could ever be as annoying as Elladan. His older brother knew perfectly well that he loathed being called "little", besides, he had no right calling him that since he was older only by a couple of minutes. And he was not hiding, he was … well, he didn't really know what he was doing, but hiding was not the term he would use. He was trying to wake up, truly, but apart from the fact that his body and subconsciousness were of the opinion that that was an entirely idiotic idea, he didn't seem to possess enough energy to open his eyes which shouldn't be closed in the first place. The young elf frowned inwardly. Why were his eyes closed?
He almost lost himself in the search for an answer to that question, and so he was slightly surprised when he felt two hands cup his face, the fingers feeling cold and wet against the warm skin of his cheeks.
"Elrohir! Lasto enni! Ú-'wanno awarthol nin na nîr a naeth, gwanur nín! Echuio!"
This was all Elrohir could take, and with determination he didn't know he possessed he once again took up the fight against the slowly thinning veil of unconsciousness that sought to separate him from his brother. He might have thought about going back to sleep to escape Elladan's scolding, but that had ceased to be an option after he had heard his twin's anxious, tear-filled voice. He had never been parted from his brother for longer than a few seasons and had seen and heard him in all kinds of situations; and right now, Elladan was very close to despairing, or as close as he had been in 132 years.
He finally managed to open his eyes, blinking owlishly when all he could see at first was a large, multicoloured blob without clear outlines. After a few seconds, the image slowly shifted into a tent-like construction and his twin's face, who appeared to be kneeling next to him and wore a grin so broad that it gave him the distinct appearance of an overjoyed leapfrog.
Elladan grinned at his younger brother as he fought the tears that wanted to surface after all.
"Elrohir! Thank the Valar, you are awake! I was so worried about you; what were you thinking?"
He knew perfectly well that he was babbling and stating the obvious right now, but he couldn't care less. It was nearly midday now and therefore several hours since he had reached the cliff base after a climb – with his twin bound upon his back - he never wanted to repeat in his entire life, and he had been trying to rouse his brother for about three hours now. He had just about come to the decision to put out the fire and move on when Elrohir had shown the first signs of waking.
Elrohir squinted slightly, trying to get rid of the grey spots that still danced across his vision.
"El'dan?" he asked weakly, not having the strength to say more.
The older twin grinned again and nodded his head while his right hand was feeling for the water bottle that should be lying somewhere to his right, next to the fire to be precise.
"Yes, little brother, it is me. You gave me quite a scare, did you know that? You have been unconscious for about twelve hours now!" He found the water skin and uncorked it with the one hand, sliding his other arm under his brother's shoulders to lift him slightly. "Here, drink this, it will help." When he saw the suspicious look that flittered across Elrohir's glazed eyes, he added with slight exasperation, "It is merely water, I promise."
Elrohir accepted the water gratefully, letting his brother help him lie back down after he had drunken as much as he could. He stared up at the other elf with heavily lidded eyes, amazed at how much strength it had cost him to sit up a little and drink a few mouthfuls of water.
"One can never be … sure with you…" he managed in a soft voice after a few seconds. "And … I'm not … little." He watched his brother smile broadly, but before Elladan could start to protest, he added weakly, "What happened, in Elbereth's … name?"
Elladan looked at his brother in concern.
"You remember the fight with the orcs, do you not?" When his twin nodded slowly, he breathed a sigh of relief and shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, that last orc shot you and you fell off the cliff. You landed on a ledge about sixty feet down, so I killed the orc, climbed down and got you down the rest of the way. You have half a dozen broken ribs, an arrow wound in the shoulder, various cuts and bruises and a badly broken leg. All in all, ada will have a fit when he sees you."
Elrohir's eyes wandered unsteadily over the cloth he could see behind his brother, and Elladan added with a smile,
"That's my cloak. I built something like a tiny tent to keep off the rain; it's been raining almost non-stop since yesterday evening. I managed to find some water and could boil the athelas we have…"
"Where's the rest?" Elrohir interrupted him, narrowing his eyes slightly. He couldn't see much of his brother from where he was lying on the ground, but even he could see the large gash on Elladan's forehead and the torn cloth that had once been his twin's left shirtsleeve and that was now covered with a blood-stained bandage.
"With the horses," Elladan answered lightly. "Somewhere," he made a dismissive gesture into the direction of the rock face to their left, "up there, I believe. I didn't have time to get to them before I climbed down." Reading the unspoken question in his brother's eyes, he added, "We have the most basic healing herbs, a few more bandages, our blades, my bow and about twenty arrows. Your bow was broken in the fall, I'm sorry, and so were most of your arrows." Elladan looked suddenly self-conscious and hurried to continue. "In addition to that, our cloaks, a small pot for boiling athelas we don't have anymore, no food, but plenty of water. And that's about it, I believe."
Elrohir's muddled brain needed some time to process what his brother had said.
"Why did you need to boil athelas?"
Elladan looked at his younger brother, concern once again shining in his eyes.
"Did I not mention it? The arrow you caught was poisoned. I think I treated it soon enough, but we really need to get you back to Imladris to have father have a look at you. We are not far from the rangers' camp, and once we find a way out of this ravine it shouldn't take us too long to get there."
"I see," Elrohir mumbled and closed his eyes again, but his lids opened with a start when he remembered what he had wanted to ask Elladan from the start. "What about you? Are you hurt? What about your arm?"
"Just a cut," Elladan shrugged dismissively. "I am fine, just a few bruises and…"
"Brother," Elrohir's lightly scolding voice interrupted him. "Do not lie to me, you never manage to anyway."
Elladan smiled slightly, a sudden intense wave of gratitude slamming through him. Elrohir was alive and awake, thank Ilúvatar…
"I might have cracked my ankle, but other than that I am really alright."
"You cracked an ankle? How did you do that?" Elladan shrugged and didn't make any attempt to answer that question, so his twin continued. "You used all the athelas on me," Elrohir accused his brother, eyes dark in his pale and bruised face. "You haven't washed your cut."
"No," Elladan shrugged again. "It's not infected, truly."
There was no need to mention to his twin that his arm was beginning to ache and his head beginning to feel slightly … fuzzy, for a lack of better word, but they had had so little athelas that he hadn't even needed to think twice about what he should do with it. He had known for sure that Elrohir would most likely die if his wound wasn't tended with the precious herb, and so the choice had been more than easy.
"Elladan…" Elrohir began when a sudden, violent coughing fit seized his body. The older twin quickly stopped putting out the fire and tried to hold his younger brother's seizing body as best as he could, but every hacking cough seemed to drain the younger elf of what little strength he possesses and so he lay barely conscious in his arms after a few moments.
Elladan wiped Elrohir's sweat-covered face with a damp cloth, trying not to wince when he saw the violent trembling that shook the other elf. Elrohir was in no condition to go anywhere, but they simply had no other choice. They needed to get away from here and get help, or his younger brother wouldn't live to see the coming morning. He was already far too weak, and if his wounds remained as poorly treated as they were now…
"Elrohir," he began after a few minutes in which his brother had been lying in his arms with his eyes closed, obviously gathering his strength, "Can you move? We must go and find help for you. Do you think you can manage that, gwanur nín?"
Elrohir simply nodded weakly without opening his eyes, and Elladan carefully lowered his brother onto the ground. He quickly began to collect the few things that had managed to survive the past few hours unscathed and put some more mud on the still smouldering fire to extinguish the flames completely. Slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder, he loosened his cloak where he had tied it to makeshift poles he had driven into the ground to form a tent of sorts, and after making sure that he hadn't forgotten anything he kneeled down next to his brother in the mud and wrapped him into his cloak, ignoring his protests that he didn't need the additional warmth the rather wet fabric provided.
After a short, but rather fierce argument about whether Elrohir would allow his twin to carry him – he would not – the both of them got to their feet, presenting a picture that even the most objective person would have described as wretched. Both were cut and bruised, Elrohir was so covered in bandages that it was barely possible to spy a patch of exposed skin and Elladan sported a wrapped ankle that had roughly the size of a fair-sized boulder.
"Stubborn idiot," Elladan grumbled under his breath. "Always arguing, never thinking about your own good…"
"Look … who's … talking," the younger twin wheezed, doing his best not to pass out on the spot. He didn't want to make everything even harder on his brother; there was no way Elladan could carry him all the way with that ankle of his.
"Be quiet, little brother," Elladan commanded, slinging his left arm around his brother's waist and ignoring the way it seemed to explode with pain at that. "And don't you dare put any pressure on that leg, you hear me? I didn't set it to have you ruin it again."
Elrohir merely nodded, in too much pain for a vocal answer, and so they began to take the first wobbly steps away from the cliff face. After a few dozen yards they reached a small forest that still did nothing to shield them from the torrential rain that was falling again, and Elladan stopped, shaking his head slightly to get rid of the sweat and rain that was running into his eyes. Turning back slightly, he looked back at the cliff that had nearly cost them both their lives, when Elrohir's breathless, already much weaker voice interrupted him.
"He was right, you know."
Elladan turned to look at his brother, who was looking at the rock wall with a far-away look in his eyes. Elrond's older son frowned, but resisted the urge to check his twin for any sign of a developing fever. He could have sworn that the athelas had been enough to rid his brother's body of the orc poison…
"What do you mean, brother? Who was right?"
Elrohir sighed, refraining to shake his head since it was telling him what exactly it would do if he tried.
"Everyone, I guess. Ada. Legolas. Erestor. But I meant Glorfindel."
Elladan closed his eyes and hung his head, but didn't answer. That was exactly what a part of his mind had been telling him ever since he had woken up in the largest puddle of mud he had ever seen or had ever wished to see.
Next to him, Elrohir continued, his voice pained.
"He was right. Nana would not have wanted this."
Elladan fought against the memories that automatically surfaced at the mention of his mother, but they refused to be pushed away, swirling in his mind with the persistence of a pack of wargs trailing an elusive prey. That thought brought the older twin back to their dangerous situation and he started to turn around again, forcing himself not to think about what a pack of hungry wargs would do with them right now.
When he had turned fully around, he began his stumbling, limping walk again, trying his best to carry as much of his brother's weight as possible without collapsing himself. The pain in his ankle was intense, and it took almost all of his strength not to wince every time his foot touched the ground.
They had nearly reached the end of the small wood when Elladan stopped again, looking at his brother whose face was now so pale that one could almost see the blood under the white skin.
"You are right," he whispered softly as he admitted something he had refused to think about for nearly a yén, "She would not have wanted this."
Elrohir merely gave him a small, pain-filled smile, and so the two elven twins took up their walk again, moving on slowly as the rain kept beating down on them.
Half a dozen hours later, darkness was falling, and Elladan was very close to taking his sword, chopping off his brother's head and telling his father that it had been an accident later.
Four hours ago, they had taken a break since both of them had been ready to fall over, Elrohir more than he though. That stubborn, thick-headed, reckless elf had insisted on continuing after a few minutes, and Varda Elentári help him, he didn't know why he had agreed.
Three hours ago both of them had nearly fallen down yet another ravine that had appeared to their left because Elrohir had "stumbled" over a "root", which meant that he had been too tired to go on.
Two hours ago Elladan had stopped and commanded his brother to let him carry him, since he couldn't bear the expression of pure agony on his younger twin's face anymore that he was so desperately trying to hide. Elrohir would hear nothing of it, of course.
One hour ago he had begged Elrohir to let him carry him, and if he had had any strength left, he would even have got down on his knees. This way he had merely looked at him with the biggest, most reproachful grey eyes he could manage right now, to no avail however.
Elrohir had insisted that he was fine, as had been to be expected, but enough was enough. It was getting dark, and he was not stumbling through unknown territory with his little brother who shouldn't even be walking in the first place. Elladan set his jaw and unwittingly tightened his hold on him. He had had definitely enough now.
His eyes wandered over their darkening surroundings quickly, and after a second he steered both of them into the direction of a small copse of trees that could be seen just ahead. Elrohir's laboured breathing sounded impossibly loud in his ears, and so he gave a huge sigh of relief himself when they reached the trees. Not that he was relying on his ears very much right now; he was beginning to hear strange things and the world was beginning to shift in and out of focus in a manner that was beginning to greatly amuse him.
He carefully lowered his brother to the ground, and his thoughts were interrupted when his twin – who rightly shouldn't even be conscious right now – looked at him with reproach in his eyes, his face ashen and lips colourless.
"Why've … we … stopped?"
His brother's gasped words were enough to assure him that he had made the right decision, and as inconspicuously as he could Elladan reached for the small bag of herbs they had still left. Ah, here was the water bottle, now all he needed was some of that root and then…
He looked at the younger elf, trying to come up with something to distract him with.
"I need a rest," he shrugged as he tried to keep his hands that were mixing the powdered root with the water out of his brother's line of sight, not that he would have needed to bother. Elrohir was fully concentrated on not passing out from the pain that throbbed through his body, and would hardly have noticed a herd of oliphaunts had they decided to circle them for an hour or two. The only thing that might have made a faint impression would've been a pack of dancing wargs, and probably not even that.
Elladan looked at his twin, for a moment forgetting that he was planning to drug him into the next age – all for his own good, of course.
"I have been thinking. I think you, Glorfindel, ada and all the others were indeed right."
Elrohir painstakingly opened his eyes and nodded slowly.
"He was. Have you ever thought about what all this would do to father and Arwen?"
His brother winced openly.
"Yes and no. It somehow … never really mattered."
"It does now," Elrohir nodded weakly, his eyes beginning to slide shut again. "I regret many things now, and one of them is that I was too busy seeking revenge this past yén to really pay attention to what my father and little sister needed." He gave Elladan a long look. "And what my stubborn, thick-headed brother needed."
Elladan frowned, his concern reawakening. He didn't like the sound of his brother's words at all.
"Why are you saying this?"
"Because it is the truth," the younger twin shrugged, suppressing a coughing fit and beginning to shiver in his wet clothes. "This … will not bring her back … it will make everything simply worse. And I am too late again … too late to see it, too late to understand…"
Elladan stared wide-eyed at his younger brother, the bottle that held the sleeping potion now forgotten. He had enough presence of mind left to carefully deposit it on the ground before he moved closer to Elrohir, grabbing his good shoulder tightly with both hands.
"Do not talk like this!" he demanded, the words a little bit harsher than he had intended. "It is not too late for anything! We will get back to Rivendell, and ada will heal you and we will listen to his and Glorfindel's Things-young-elf-lords-never-do-speech, understood?" He stared at his younger brother's face, his eyes boring into Elrohir's. "Do not leave me, brother. Not now, and not ever! One day we will journey to the Havens and see naneth again, and until then we will do what she would have wanted us to! Do you hear me? I could not live for all the ages of this world alone! Don't you dare leaving me!"
Elrohir looked back at him, eyes huge and dark, and Elladan wasn't even sure if his twin had really heard what he had said, so much pain and confusion was in the other's eyes.
"You have always been the stronger one. You could … just as ada could when Uncle Elros died…"
Elladan shook his head forcefully, tears shining brightly in his eyes.
"I am not as strong as he, Elrohir. I could not bear losing you and live on – and I wouldn't want to either."
The younger twin's eyes began to glaze over, his mind too exhausted and in too much pain to concentrate on one topic for any amount of time.
"Ada … Why didn't we listen to ada, Elladan? We should have listened to him a long time ago…"
Elladan realised that his brother was now beyond comprehending what was being said to him, and he ruthlessly pushed down the fear and panic that tore at his heart. There was no way Elrohir was going anywhere in the near future; the cold and rain on top of his injuries had finally got the best of him, and internal injuries were always a possibility, one that he definitely did not want to think about…
He simply nodded and pulled his younger brother into his arms, wiping a strand of dripping wet hair out of Elrohir's eyes while his other hand felt for the water bottle.
"You are right, gwanur dithen," he soothed softly, his concern once again spiking when his twin didn't protest against the loathed term. "We were fools, just like we always are … we will tell ada once we get back home, alright?"
Elrohir nodded weakly, and Elladan's fingers finally closed around the water skin he had placed next to him only a minute ago.
"Drink something, Elrohir, please?" The younger twin didn't seem too inclined to comply with his brother's wish, and Elladan tried again, his voice pleading now as he held the bottle close to the other elf's lips. "Come, brother, just a little water, it will help you regain your strength so we can go on and get back home…"
That prospect seemed to make sense to Elrohir, and he obediently drank some of the water Elladan offered him. The older twin took the bottle away and made a mental note to empty it before he went on; the very last thing he wanted was inadvertently drug himself. He would never survive the teasing that would follow him the rest of his life if he did.
Just a few moments later Elrohir's eyes were beginning to slide shut again, a sight that filled his brother with intense worry even though he had been expecting it. The drug worked even faster than it would usually have done due to the elf's severely weakened condition, and in the matter of a minute or two the younger twin found himself on the brink of unconsciousness.
Elrohir was powerless to stop his eyelids that were closing even despite his mental objections, and he sighed almost inaudibly when the pain that wrecked his body lessened.
"Not … fair … should … known…"
Elladan smiled slightly, even though the mirth did not reach his eyes as he tightened his hold on his younger brother.
"Yes, you should have." He suppressed the guilt he felt for deceiving Elrohir like this; it had had to be done. His brother wouldn't allow him to carry him without much protesting, and the jostling it would bring would cause him far too much pain, so this was the other way.
"Sleep, my brother," he added softly as Elrohir's laboured breathing finally evened out, "When you awake we will be at home, with father already waiting to lecture us and give us the look, the one of impending doom and pain he likes so much. All will be well, just sleep…"
The older twin's voice had dropped to a soft murmur, and within a few seconds Elrohir was asleep, causing Elladan to give a great sigh of relief. All he really wanted was lie down and sleep as well, sleep until this horrible weather had passed and, if possible, wake up back home in his own bed, but he knew that this was a very unlikely – not to mention dangerous and foolish – scenario. His recollection of this particular ravine was sketchy at best, but he thought he remembered a small, steep path that led back up which should be a mile or two from here, that was if he was correct about how much ground they had already covered.
Well, if he could get them to that path and, more importantly, up that path, the worst would be over. Elladan didn't even stop to contemplate how in Ilúvatar's name he should manage to carry his brother up a steep, rocky path, with this torrential rain hindering his sight and his movements and feeling the way he did right now, namely as if he had had an argument with an ill-tempered troll and lost. Not that one could have a real argument with a troll anyway, he decided as an afterthought, they were far too stupid for anything that required them to actually think.
The dark haired elf lowered his twin carefully to the ground and wrapped the two cloaks a little more tightly about his shaking frame. He quickly emptied his water bottle and watched dreamily how the liquid spilled onto the ground to add to the already rather large puddle next to him. After a few moments he was ready to go on and scooped his younger brother up in his arms, turning him slightly so that his head rested against his chest and at least his face was somewhat protected from the torrential rain.
Elladan gave the almost pitch-black sky a quick look, trying to judge their position, but it proved to be in vain. Thick grey clouds covered the heavens, and not even his sharp elven eyes were able to see even one star. That only served to make the despair in his heart grow stronger, and with a rather hopeless shake of his head he took the first step forwards, wobbling slightly as his ankle threatened to give out under the two elves' combined weight.
It didn't get better with time as he was trying to convince himself, and a few hours later, at about midnight, his strength was beginning to desert him. He had reached the path he had been looking for about an hour ago, having moved far more slowly than he had anticipated or hoped. Elrohir's weight seemed to have doubled some time in the past few hours and yet he pressed on, trying to ignore the signals his body emitted that very clearly stated that it would collapse rather soon if he didn't stop on his own account.
That, however, was the one thing Elladan could not do while he still had some strength left, and so he ignored his throbbing arm as best as he could as well as his ankle that had left the stage of throbbing behind a long time ago and was quickly reaching the stage of agonising pain. If he had needed some proof that the cut on his left arm had been poisoned, it had presented itself about an hour ago when the path in front of his eyes had begun to split in two, leaving him to guess which one was real and which one only a figment of his feverish mind.
The path. Valar, he was beginning to hate it.
It had clearly not been constructed to be climbed in the dark, not even by one of the firstborn, and certainly not by one of the firstborn who did not have the use of his hands and was carrying another person. In actual fact, it was too narrow, too steep and too stony, but Elladan wasn't prepared to let that stop him.
Or, to be more precise, he hadn't been prepared to let that stop him, because right now, he didn't think that he would be able to go on. His lungs were burning, and if his vision deteriorated any more, he would be effectively blind, and he didn't think that that was such a good idea considering the terrain unless he wanted to fall down several dozen feet again, which he did not, by the way. Under no circumstances, thank you very much.
Elladan stopped for a moment, cocking his head to the side which turned out to be not such a good idea since the two paths in front of his eyes began to sway dangerously at that. The young elf ignored the paths' strange behaviour and tried to concentrate, but the small sound that had alerted him wasn't to be heard again over the falling rain and the howling of the wind.
After a few moments he decided that he was probably imagining things – not that that surprised him – and took another step forward, cursing under his breath when the ground crumbled under his very feet. The constant rain was beginning to wash away the earth that covered the path, leaving the sheer rocks on which navigating in this kind of weather was even harder. The darkness did little to aid him either, since there was absolutely no moon to be seen and all the light there was emanated from their elven bodies, or to be honest, from his elven body. Elrohir's light had dimmed to a very faint glow and was barely visible, and now that he thought about it, his own light should have been a lot stronger as well.
Elladan doggedly continued climbing up the path, but after a few more minutes he stopped, a frown appearing on his cut face. This time he was sure he had heard it: Footsteps that were coming closer, nearing their position rather quickly. The older twin's brain needed some time to realise what that meant: Someone was coming down the path, and more than one someone at that. He wasn't sure how many, but the one thing he was sure about was that it were no elves. He wasn't able to discern more, so it could have been everything from hobbits to orcs to men to cave trolls to various other things, most of them sounding not so good at the moment.
Elrond's older son looked about him with wild, desperate eyes, knowing full well that he was not up for a fight. Elrohir wouldn't wake for a long time since he had put all of the root into the water, and there seemed to be no way of escape; no small cave, no forest, not even a protruding rock that promised cover and shelter, and they were still at least half an hour's climb away from the ground level.
The footsteps grew nearer, and an impotent, overwhelming fury began to wrap itself around Elladan's heart. If these were indeed orcs, they would both die now after all, after all what they'd already mastered and so close to their goal. It was not fair, simply not fair…
Elladan squared his aching shoulders and slowly bent down to deposit his brother gently on the ground, almost falling to his knees in the process. He gave his unconscious brother a long, guilt-filled look before he straightened up again.
"I am sorry, Elrohir," he whispered softly as he silently unsheathed his sword, not trusting his left arm enough to draw a bow, "It appears that we are both too late, my brother."
He took a deep breath and walked forward a few paces, stopping after a few dozen yards when he reached a section of the path that was actually quite level and broad enough for two beings to stand abreast. This was the best spot for a fight he had seen in a long time, and if these beings that were closing in on them were looking for a fight, he was more than willing to give it to them. If they wanted to get to Elrohir, they would have to kill him first, and he was not going easily or without a fight.
Holding his sword in front of him in a ready position, Elladan fought the grey spot that were beginning to cloud his vision and, with the patience that most of the firstborn possessed, waited. He didn't have to wait long though, for after only a minute or two even his feverish senses detected the presence of at least five beings that were nearly upon him now.
A second later, six dark shadows appeared in his line of vision and split up immediately when they saw the motionless figure of the dark haired elf, four pressing themselves against the rock face on the one side of the path while the two other remained in the middle of the steep road, coming slowly closer.
Elladan was trying to think of something to say, but he was fully concentrated on staying on his feet and trying to decide which ones of the twelve figures in front of him were real, and so he merely stood there, watching the others come closer with emotionless eyes.
The two figures stopped a few feet from him, and try as he might, the young elf could not see who or even of what race they were; all his muddled brain could understand was that they were tall, hooded beings that were definitely not elves.
The taller of the two beings lifted his head, his face still shrouded in the shadows of his hood, and cocked his head slightly to the side before he reached up and threw back his cape, exposing his head to the rain that was still pouring down on them.
"Well, well, well, my friends, what have we got here?"
TBC...
gwanur nín - my (twin) brother
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years
naneth - mother
nana - mother (mummy)
Echuio, pen-olthol - Wake up, dreaming one
Albell delio nedh i-vôr, gwanur dithen - It is weak to hide in the darkness, little (twin) brother
Ú-bedithon ada o gûr nín - I will not tell father of your death
Elrohir, lasto enni! Ú-'wanno awarthol nin na nír a naeth! - Elrohir, listen to me! Do not die leaving me to grief and despair!
Yet another little A/N:
I should probably explain a few things before I get many reviews telling me how wrong my Elvish is - which it isn't, btw, but still. So, most of you will probably know the Sindarin word for 'little', namely 'tithen'. Most people who want to say 'little brother' say 'gwador (or 'gwanur', the same principle applies) tithen', which, to be frank, is wrong. It is correct that the adjective is placed behind the noun it refers to, but in that position the adjective undergoes Lenition, or Soft Mutation. Lenition causes the first letter of the adjective to change, in the case of 't' as in 'tithen' into 'd'. Try to say it, it's really easier and softer to pronounce which is the reason for the whole thing in the first place. So, according to Sindarin grammatical rules, 'little brother' means 'gwador/gwanur/muindor dithen'. Sorry about the lecture, but that's the way it is. *g*
I know it's a cliffy, but see it this way: It's this story's _last_ cliffy! *g* That of course is because it's also this story's second to last chapter, but ah well, it's _something_, isn't it? Okay, so the next chapter once again wraps everything up nicely, we see a little bit more of Erestor and Glordindel, and of course Elrond who gets due opportunity to give his sons the look. It should be here on ... Thursday or Friday, more probably Friday but I'll see what I can do. Reviews, as always, might influence that decision. *g* Positively, of course.
Additional A/N:
Iverson - *blushes* Oh, no, I've had much worse cliffies - but it's a very nice thing to say nonetheless. Thank you! I am indeed not really _trying_ to get Elladan to be confused, scared, hurt and worried at the same time, he just _is_. I swear it, all these emotions come from the characters themselves, which sounds really stupid now that I think about it, but ah well. It's true. *shrugs* Don't worry though, Elrohir won't be unconscious all the time. He's a little bit awake next chapter, and also a little in this one. Not much, but better than nothing, right? *g* Me? A gift for understatement? A little bit I guess, yes. I love understatements, really... *g* And trust me, I _wanted_ to stop there, but I don't post chapters under 12 pages. I also try to keep them shorter than 15, but that almost never works. *sighs* The characters just refuse to shut up, curse them. But don't worry: I LOVE death threats. I really do. Sorry I couldn't make it Sunday, though. Hope this is still okay!
Maranwe1 - LOL, I don't know whether or not Arwen ever had trouble with cliffs! By now, however, I think it's genetic or at least passed on through prolongued exposure to or contact with those with the clifffaller-gene, so there is a good chance. *g* Hmm, judging by what you describe, I think you'rew getting sick. *peers intently into her face* Are you? I wouldn't want you to get sick - but then again, loads pf people ARE getting sick right now, so... *trails off* I AM talking a lot of nonesense right about now, huh? Ah, just ignore me; everyone with a brain does anyway. *shrugs and walks off*
Nikara - Oh, reviews ALWAYS cheer me up, even though I have to admit that they don't always make me update faster. I'm kinda evil that way, I know. And I totally agree: Being brought back home barely alive that many times is a bloody awful lot. The twins are stupid, I've always said it. *g*
Silvertoekee - *g* Yeah, you know how twins allegedly always think the same and sustain injuries in the same places and so on? I thought I shouldn't just push one of them off the cliff - besides, I enjoy watching them suffer. *g* *gives her a huggle from her alter ego* My alter ego is very glad that _someone_ likes her. Thanks.
Firnsarnien - LOL, my alter ego has taken over my body, hm? That's indeed a rather interesting idea, and it would in fact explain a lot, but ... no. *evil grin* Don't worry, I'm still me, I'm just a little ... influenced by my dear alter ego. That's all. *creepy, alter-ego-style grin* See? Nothing to worry about... The whole thing reminds me of the body snatchers, mind you...*g* And of course my alter ego's mean, but that still doesn't mean I can jsut kick her around. That would be ... mean?
Firniswin - Great you enjoyed the angst. Elladan, Elrohir & Co. somehow didn't seem to, I don't know why either ... they're just weird, I guess... *g* And to be honest, yes, I am thinking about becoming a writer. I would love to, but if I really should become one, I would definitely not write Fantasy. Believe it or not, I don't really like it, I'm more a thriller/action adventure/historical novel kind of person. Weird mix, I know. So, If I should ever be published it wouldn't be Fantasy, sorry.
Farflung - *g* Yeah, you know that saying... 'And out of the chaos a voice spoke to me, saying: Smile and be merry, for it could get worse. And I smiled and was merry, and it did get worse. *g* That's my motto... Yup, I think Glorfindel is to be pitied, and Elrond does indeed owe him now. Staying home would be the sensible thing to do, actually, but what would we be writing about then? Hmm, now that I think about it, more than 70% of all accidents happen at home, so I MIGHT be able to think of something... *g* I am glad you're enjoying this so much, thanks for the review!
Suzi9 - Okay, I'm gonna ask. I know that, strictly speaking, it's none of my business, but: What has this person instructed you in? Knife fighting? Mugging for beginners? Advanced cooking techniques? How did you manage to get a bloody knife stuck into your arm?? And somehow I always thought you were English, what are you then, Welsh or Scottish or something? That would at least explain the non-English-speaking village - hmm, not really but still... Be that as it may, I'm not really intent on hurting Elrohir, really. This was Kaeera's idea, more or less, so it's she who likes our dear elven twin half-dead and so on. I am innocent, at least this time. *g* Hmm, a how Legolas and Aragorn meet story... I could do that, sometime. When I have a little time, in between stories; I'll think about it. Okay? And please, keep Drákon away from the lembas. A dragon without teeth is not really that intimidating, now is he? Well, I hope your arm is better! *huggles*
Firegirl353 - Well, technically speaking, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen aren't half-elves or quarter-elves. Since Elrond is 9/16 elf, 3/8 man and 1/16 Maia and Celebrían a full elf, they're *takes deep breath* 25/32 elf, 1/32 Maia and 3/16 man. Half-elf is just a title, meaning that they're able to chose to which people they want to belong to (I guess chosing Maia is out of the picture since their heritage is so small). *re-reads sentence* It wasn't supposed to be a lecture, sorry. I guess you knew that anyway. And don't tempt me, there's still a lot MORE pain and angst I can put them through... *evil grin* From everything I've heard, elven horses are indeed very loyal to their masters and vice versa. Real horses are dumb, just like my sister's which is also very evil. I swear it, it hates me and would gladly see me dead. In fact, I based Rashwe on her horse; the two of them are so much alike that it's almost scary. *g* This is set about three hundred years before Aragorn's birth (III, 2931), in III, 2642. *huggles* Thanks for the long review!
CrazyLOTRfan - Great I could make you happy, even though we didn't really disciover what happened to Elrohir. Ah well, better than nothing, right... I've always wanted to thank you for all your reviews, so I guess I could just as well do it here. So: Thank you! *huggles* Okay, done.
Christine - Of course the twins run away when they see you coming! *shakes head* You have to wait behind a large tree and strike when they least expect it! Surprise them! They mustn't see you before it's too late! *g* Try it that way, that might just work... Thanks for the review!
Prince Tyler Briefs - I guess they have worse luck than everyone else - with the possible exception of Aragorn and Legolas, of course. *g* And see? I posted Monday? This is Monday, right? Right? *runs off to check the calendar* Phew, it is. You had me worried there for a moment. *g*
Jazmin3 Firewing - So, I hope that was a good reason. It's quite hard to explain, but it's YOUR story, so to speak, so you'll have to use your imagination. Sorry I can't really explain it in a way you can all understand. *sighs* I'm a cretin. And what about I bring Stan with me next post? So when you review you can bring Finarfen and they can have some fun! Yay them! *g*
Mystic Girl1 - Na, wenn du DAS kurz nennst... *g* Ich hoffe, deinen Oehrchen geht es besser? Denn mit Mittelohrentzuendung Geburtstag feiern kann einfach nur unlustig sein... Also Gute Besserung! Andererseits, so kannst du doch zu Hause bleiben, oder? Und das mit den Knochenbruechen war eigentlich gar nicht meine Idee! Ich mein, ja, es WAR meine Idee, aber es war Kaeeras darueber zu schreiben. ICH wollte das gar nicht und wasche damit meine Haende in Unschuld... *g* Hmm, und du muss immer bedenken, dass man Dinge auch _runter_ bekommen kann. Das kann manchmal ein bisschen einfacher sein... LOL, Rettungskommando Glorfindel-Erestor KG? Rettungseinheit der Dúnedain GmbH? Sag mal, was fuer Schmerzmittel nimmst du eigentlich?? *g* Zu starke anscheinend... Die entflohenen Verrrueckten Vier? Ich glaube doch ganz stark, dass du Probleme hast... *g* Also, ich hoffe, den Ohren gehst es besser, danke fuer die 'kurze' Review!
Thanks again to all of you, I am right now busy finding a good DVD Ripper and am in the process of despairing. *shakes head* Very frustrating. I really want one which produces output files with a size of more than two inches, which appears to be impossible. *sighs* Bloody computer.