~Chapter 7 ~ Wild Chase~
They had entered the pass by mid-morning and the terrain showed well. Mountain peaks loomed ahead of them, casting tall shadows before the rising sun. Rocky gravel made the path uneven, but trees added shade.
The trail curved up and around Redhorn Mountain, whose valley was wide enough for three horses to travel side by side. Though the path rose through the mountains, the Pass crested well below the caps of its parent peaks. It wasn't the Gap of Rohan, by any means, but it was a handy shortcut for travelers from Rivendell, and the western lands, to Lothlórien.
There had been no sign of a recent crossing to the west. Elrohir's heart hung low, now sure that his mother had been waylaid and was lying dead or close to it somewhere ahead. He was not looking forward to such a discovery, but not knowing would be worse.
Glancing back to the following elves, Elrohir found his brother's eyes. Their grey tint seemed strangely lit in the bright morning sun, and he could not read them. He knew, though, that his twin felt the same apprehension for the path ahead.
Facing forward again, Elrohir found his mind wandering back to his twin. When they were younger, Elladan had had occasional fits that their father had named visions of the future, similar to his own skill. Elrohir had been insanely curious about this ability of his twin's, and later, whether it was a potential of his own.
Of course it had been many years since he had really thought about it, and just now that he had noticed that strange, faraway look in Elladan's eyes.
He shook his head and pushed his mind back to the task at hand. There were few places to camp along the trail, and he didn't want to be caught late at night trying to find a decent clearing with good defensive view.
Secretly, however, he was pleased that the subordinate elves had accepted him as their leader. But not to go off on a tangent again...
'I believe the summit will be a fine place for lookout and camp,' he thought.
Elrohir blamed it on the sun affecting his depth perception, but they arrived at the crest of the valley pass much sooner than anticipated. It was early afternoon and the sun was shining over their shoulders.
Calling the group to a halt, Elrohir dismounted and jumped up some nearby boulders to survey the downgrade to the Pass exit. The first decent was steep and boxed in by boulders and cliff walls. It flattened for a bit while the walls still descended. They met at a point nearly out of his line of sight, but it was were the trees began. On the left, the trees grew into a shallow valley.
He visibly checked for signs of the enemy down the walls by the path, but noticed nothing.
"Their attack will come from the lower woods, if there will be one," came Elladan's grave voice.
Elrohir glanced back at him. He stood in the open, not bothering to hide, and searched the distant trees.
"We must move," he said with urgency, "Time is short."
Trusting the elf's instinct, Elrohir jumped from the boulder and leapt to his horse.
"We ride on," he said loud enough for the group to hear, but hopefully not loud enough for prying ears to hear.
~*~*~
Elladan followed his brother's leap and was mounted soon beside him. He had a bad feeling, had had the same one for almost two days. It was slow to work up, and he almost blamed it on anxiety for his mother's safety.
But he knew, when he saw the disappearing curve into the woods, something was there that they did not wish to see. What? He couldn't know, but he hated waiting.
Whispering speed to his horse, he broke in front of Elrohir, who watched warily as he descended down the steep grade. The horse understood the urgency and rode through the rocky decline with all haste.
The ride seemed to take forever. The sun was slipping below the mountains, though it was only late afternoon, and the edging forest seemed to grow darker. Shadow covered almost everything by the time Elladan rounded the path through the thick forest that spilled out the eastern side of the mountain pass.
The horse stopped and reared, as if sudden fear had seized him. Ahead, barely perceptible in the dimming light, were bodies. Many bodies, bloodied and twisted in the throws of death. Shouting was heard behind him as the remaining riders approached and beheld the grisly sight.
"Nána!" Elrohir called as he kicked his horse into motion.
"Wait," Elladan started but was left with his brother's dust. He followed after him.
Behind him, he heard the twelve other elves similarly riding headlong down the decline. Elrohir had already arrived at the site and had dismounted. He frantically searched the remains of orcs and elves, crying out each time he saw a familiar face.
Nearly all the dead elves were escorts of their mother. The battle scene covered a small area of the road, but it also ventured out into the surrounding woods.
"She could be anywhere," Elrohir said fearfully.
Coming close to him, Elladan spoke quietly, "Stay calm. We will find her. If she is not among the dead, then she is among the living, and they have to have gone somewhere. You take this side, I'll search the other. Send four on towards Lothlórien, in case she made it back, and we'll split the rest."
All fear left his eyes and Elrohir nodded firmly. Barking the orders to the other elves, the plan was implemented immediately. Elladan crossed the path and he and his group fanned out along the tree line. With their elven sight, the signs of retreat and attack were clearly defined: a turned rock, a broken stick, a bent branch.
An obvious sign was spotted by Elladan. A piece of cloth ripped by a sharp thorn. It was soft pink silk, their mother's favored fabric. He searched the ground carefully and followed the trail.
Repressing the urge to shout to his brother, Elladan called an elf over and sent him back to tell the others. Then moving on, he deducted that Celebrían had run for her life during the attack, hoping for cover in the woods.
Soft moaning was heard ahead; Elladan ran to the side of a mortally wounded elf. He recognized him as Dínollo, a strong quiet elf who had wanted to travel Middle Earth. At first Elladan thought he was too far gone, but his eyes fluttered open at the sound of his approach.
Dínollo's eyes were unfocused, yet he spoke as he sensed the elf lord approach, "My Lord... I tried... the Lady was... taken... Those dirty orcs... took her..."
His eyes glazed over, "Save her..."
Elladan gently touched his shoulder in an elven salute before he rose and looked for the trail again.
'They have her then? I will have to change that,' he thought grimly.
Elrohir suddenly stepped up behind him, "You have found something?"
The two looked over the trail and found it was quite clear where the orcs began dragging their mother's body. They also noted that the trail seemed to be old, as if the makers had passed days ago. A sick feeling overcame Elladan, but he fought it and the group continued on. They came over the crest of a narrow ridge pass. The trail followed the hollow down, presumably to the easily traveled flat land by the Anduin.
The elves had already armed themselves with their bows and their hands were ready for an arrow. The trail could end just ahead or they might end up pursuing it for days. Still, it was better to be prepared for a surprise attack. A quarter moon gave little light through the bare trees, but the stars comforted and reenforced their resoluteness. The moved on warily, watching for any sign of movement in the darkness ahead.
Elrohir was able to dodge the first arrow through this vigilance. They took cover with the trees, and some even took to them and began firing back. Elladan whirled behind a particularly wide trunk and fired from the left and right randomly. He heard a few arrows strike his targets.
"Keep approaching," he heard Elrohir call.
He whipped out once more to find his next cover and then returned to the tree. Once more, he appeared as a target, a moving one, and successfully made it to the tree. Elrohir, however, had a different idea of approaching. He had pulled his sword and was charging headlong into a hornets nest of orcs, cutting down the arrows shot by hopeful killers.
Elladan didn't think twice before following. Behind him, he heard war cries from the elves as they charged into the fray.
'Not the greatest plan, Elrohir, we'll be killed in no time charging like this,' he thought, 'especially if there are hundreds of orcs.'
Elladan cut down an arrow as it whistled towards his face. It was shortly replaced and he simply ducked to avoid it. He selected one orc who had stepped out from behind a tree. Raising his sword defensively, he met the creature's eyes. Suddenly hesitating under the fierce look, the orc fumbled with his bow and was cut down by Elladan as he ran past.
Two more met their death by his sword. He noticed that no more arrows were being loosed as the orcs were taking to close range weapons. Elladan blocked as a particularly gruesome-looking orc swung his scimitar. The sound of metal-on-metal echoed all around him; his battle added to the dissonance. The strike stung his hands but he pushed through the blow and sliced at the orc's stomach. His sharp elven blade cut through the armor and the brute was left holding his entrails.
Moving on, Elladan had a vision of light blonde hair in the distance among the trees. Orcs danced around her, guarding their precious captive.
'She is nearby,' he thought as rage bubbled in his veins.
Anger lit his grey eyes as Elladan pulled his bow, nocked an arrow, and fired it in quick succession. The arrows found their targets as various orc parts. He had only seconds before the next orc would find him easy prey.
The orc came sooner than he thought and his last shot went wild. He blocked each strike with his bow, and got in close to render the attacker senseless with a smashing punch to his deformed nose. Elladan flipped the bow over his shoulder and returned to his sword. An orc was running at him when he heard the whistling.
It was less than a moment later when he felt the arrow hit his upper left arm. An unmistakable cracking sound followed the initial sting. He cried out at the pain, and even lost his sight for a second. The broken arm fell limply to his side and the pain was so great that it was all Elladan could do to not drop his sword and grab the wound.
His knees were weak but he steadied himself as the orc ran faster, sensing an easy victim. The orc swung from high to low, attempting to cut him in half. Falling back a step, Elladan avoided the slice and simply aimed his sword for the eye. Momentum slid the orc's face onto his blade. He dropped to his knees in an attempt to maintain balance as the orc fell forward with his sword still embedded it's skull.
Sensing danger behind him, Elladan half turned as he endeavored to pull to sword from the offending orc face. The elf was too close to avoid, too distracted to continue his sword's withdraw. Pure fear froze his veins.
This was it.
A loud war cry and a body suddenly jumped between him and the orc. The yell was Elrohir's. The sound of metal-on-metal was shortly followed by metal-on-flesh. Elladan's relief was short lived. It was followed by horror as he realized the metal-on-flesh was the orc blade now sticking quite plainly from his twin's back.
They had entered the pass by mid-morning and the terrain showed well. Mountain peaks loomed ahead of them, casting tall shadows before the rising sun. Rocky gravel made the path uneven, but trees added shade.
The trail curved up and around Redhorn Mountain, whose valley was wide enough for three horses to travel side by side. Though the path rose through the mountains, the Pass crested well below the caps of its parent peaks. It wasn't the Gap of Rohan, by any means, but it was a handy shortcut for travelers from Rivendell, and the western lands, to Lothlórien.
There had been no sign of a recent crossing to the west. Elrohir's heart hung low, now sure that his mother had been waylaid and was lying dead or close to it somewhere ahead. He was not looking forward to such a discovery, but not knowing would be worse.
Glancing back to the following elves, Elrohir found his brother's eyes. Their grey tint seemed strangely lit in the bright morning sun, and he could not read them. He knew, though, that his twin felt the same apprehension for the path ahead.
Facing forward again, Elrohir found his mind wandering back to his twin. When they were younger, Elladan had had occasional fits that their father had named visions of the future, similar to his own skill. Elrohir had been insanely curious about this ability of his twin's, and later, whether it was a potential of his own.
Of course it had been many years since he had really thought about it, and just now that he had noticed that strange, faraway look in Elladan's eyes.
He shook his head and pushed his mind back to the task at hand. There were few places to camp along the trail, and he didn't want to be caught late at night trying to find a decent clearing with good defensive view.
Secretly, however, he was pleased that the subordinate elves had accepted him as their leader. But not to go off on a tangent again...
'I believe the summit will be a fine place for lookout and camp,' he thought.
Elrohir blamed it on the sun affecting his depth perception, but they arrived at the crest of the valley pass much sooner than anticipated. It was early afternoon and the sun was shining over their shoulders.
Calling the group to a halt, Elrohir dismounted and jumped up some nearby boulders to survey the downgrade to the Pass exit. The first decent was steep and boxed in by boulders and cliff walls. It flattened for a bit while the walls still descended. They met at a point nearly out of his line of sight, but it was were the trees began. On the left, the trees grew into a shallow valley.
He visibly checked for signs of the enemy down the walls by the path, but noticed nothing.
"Their attack will come from the lower woods, if there will be one," came Elladan's grave voice.
Elrohir glanced back at him. He stood in the open, not bothering to hide, and searched the distant trees.
"We must move," he said with urgency, "Time is short."
Trusting the elf's instinct, Elrohir jumped from the boulder and leapt to his horse.
"We ride on," he said loud enough for the group to hear, but hopefully not loud enough for prying ears to hear.
~*~*~
Elladan followed his brother's leap and was mounted soon beside him. He had a bad feeling, had had the same one for almost two days. It was slow to work up, and he almost blamed it on anxiety for his mother's safety.
But he knew, when he saw the disappearing curve into the woods, something was there that they did not wish to see. What? He couldn't know, but he hated waiting.
Whispering speed to his horse, he broke in front of Elrohir, who watched warily as he descended down the steep grade. The horse understood the urgency and rode through the rocky decline with all haste.
The ride seemed to take forever. The sun was slipping below the mountains, though it was only late afternoon, and the edging forest seemed to grow darker. Shadow covered almost everything by the time Elladan rounded the path through the thick forest that spilled out the eastern side of the mountain pass.
The horse stopped and reared, as if sudden fear had seized him. Ahead, barely perceptible in the dimming light, were bodies. Many bodies, bloodied and twisted in the throws of death. Shouting was heard behind him as the remaining riders approached and beheld the grisly sight.
"Nána!" Elrohir called as he kicked his horse into motion.
"Wait," Elladan started but was left with his brother's dust. He followed after him.
Behind him, he heard the twelve other elves similarly riding headlong down the decline. Elrohir had already arrived at the site and had dismounted. He frantically searched the remains of orcs and elves, crying out each time he saw a familiar face.
Nearly all the dead elves were escorts of their mother. The battle scene covered a small area of the road, but it also ventured out into the surrounding woods.
"She could be anywhere," Elrohir said fearfully.
Coming close to him, Elladan spoke quietly, "Stay calm. We will find her. If she is not among the dead, then she is among the living, and they have to have gone somewhere. You take this side, I'll search the other. Send four on towards Lothlórien, in case she made it back, and we'll split the rest."
All fear left his eyes and Elrohir nodded firmly. Barking the orders to the other elves, the plan was implemented immediately. Elladan crossed the path and he and his group fanned out along the tree line. With their elven sight, the signs of retreat and attack were clearly defined: a turned rock, a broken stick, a bent branch.
An obvious sign was spotted by Elladan. A piece of cloth ripped by a sharp thorn. It was soft pink silk, their mother's favored fabric. He searched the ground carefully and followed the trail.
Repressing the urge to shout to his brother, Elladan called an elf over and sent him back to tell the others. Then moving on, he deducted that Celebrían had run for her life during the attack, hoping for cover in the woods.
Soft moaning was heard ahead; Elladan ran to the side of a mortally wounded elf. He recognized him as Dínollo, a strong quiet elf who had wanted to travel Middle Earth. At first Elladan thought he was too far gone, but his eyes fluttered open at the sound of his approach.
Dínollo's eyes were unfocused, yet he spoke as he sensed the elf lord approach, "My Lord... I tried... the Lady was... taken... Those dirty orcs... took her..."
His eyes glazed over, "Save her..."
Elladan gently touched his shoulder in an elven salute before he rose and looked for the trail again.
'They have her then? I will have to change that,' he thought grimly.
Elrohir suddenly stepped up behind him, "You have found something?"
The two looked over the trail and found it was quite clear where the orcs began dragging their mother's body. They also noted that the trail seemed to be old, as if the makers had passed days ago. A sick feeling overcame Elladan, but he fought it and the group continued on. They came over the crest of a narrow ridge pass. The trail followed the hollow down, presumably to the easily traveled flat land by the Anduin.
The elves had already armed themselves with their bows and their hands were ready for an arrow. The trail could end just ahead or they might end up pursuing it for days. Still, it was better to be prepared for a surprise attack. A quarter moon gave little light through the bare trees, but the stars comforted and reenforced their resoluteness. The moved on warily, watching for any sign of movement in the darkness ahead.
Elrohir was able to dodge the first arrow through this vigilance. They took cover with the trees, and some even took to them and began firing back. Elladan whirled behind a particularly wide trunk and fired from the left and right randomly. He heard a few arrows strike his targets.
"Keep approaching," he heard Elrohir call.
He whipped out once more to find his next cover and then returned to the tree. Once more, he appeared as a target, a moving one, and successfully made it to the tree. Elrohir, however, had a different idea of approaching. He had pulled his sword and was charging headlong into a hornets nest of orcs, cutting down the arrows shot by hopeful killers.
Elladan didn't think twice before following. Behind him, he heard war cries from the elves as they charged into the fray.
'Not the greatest plan, Elrohir, we'll be killed in no time charging like this,' he thought, 'especially if there are hundreds of orcs.'
Elladan cut down an arrow as it whistled towards his face. It was shortly replaced and he simply ducked to avoid it. He selected one orc who had stepped out from behind a tree. Raising his sword defensively, he met the creature's eyes. Suddenly hesitating under the fierce look, the orc fumbled with his bow and was cut down by Elladan as he ran past.
Two more met their death by his sword. He noticed that no more arrows were being loosed as the orcs were taking to close range weapons. Elladan blocked as a particularly gruesome-looking orc swung his scimitar. The sound of metal-on-metal echoed all around him; his battle added to the dissonance. The strike stung his hands but he pushed through the blow and sliced at the orc's stomach. His sharp elven blade cut through the armor and the brute was left holding his entrails.
Moving on, Elladan had a vision of light blonde hair in the distance among the trees. Orcs danced around her, guarding their precious captive.
'She is nearby,' he thought as rage bubbled in his veins.
Anger lit his grey eyes as Elladan pulled his bow, nocked an arrow, and fired it in quick succession. The arrows found their targets as various orc parts. He had only seconds before the next orc would find him easy prey.
The orc came sooner than he thought and his last shot went wild. He blocked each strike with his bow, and got in close to render the attacker senseless with a smashing punch to his deformed nose. Elladan flipped the bow over his shoulder and returned to his sword. An orc was running at him when he heard the whistling.
It was less than a moment later when he felt the arrow hit his upper left arm. An unmistakable cracking sound followed the initial sting. He cried out at the pain, and even lost his sight for a second. The broken arm fell limply to his side and the pain was so great that it was all Elladan could do to not drop his sword and grab the wound.
His knees were weak but he steadied himself as the orc ran faster, sensing an easy victim. The orc swung from high to low, attempting to cut him in half. Falling back a step, Elladan avoided the slice and simply aimed his sword for the eye. Momentum slid the orc's face onto his blade. He dropped to his knees in an attempt to maintain balance as the orc fell forward with his sword still embedded it's skull.
Sensing danger behind him, Elladan half turned as he endeavored to pull to sword from the offending orc face. The elf was too close to avoid, too distracted to continue his sword's withdraw. Pure fear froze his veins.
This was it.
A loud war cry and a body suddenly jumped between him and the orc. The yell was Elrohir's. The sound of metal-on-metal was shortly followed by metal-on-flesh. Elladan's relief was short lived. It was followed by horror as he realized the metal-on-flesh was the orc blade now sticking quite plainly from his twin's back.
