"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."

--George Orwell, Animal Farm

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

*****

The first thing Estel knew was the pounding of hoofbeats, horses cantering inside his skull and eyes. Everything was dark and he shivered at the cold. Why were no lanterns lit? And what was that awful stench? "Ada," he mouthed, hardly daring hope, too frightened to cry out. It is all a nightmare, Estel told himself.

Then he opened his eyes and his heart sank. Airelonde, beads of sweat dotting her pale face, smiled weakly at him. She lay upon the breast of her brother, who nodded to Estel. There had been no dream. This terror served as reality.

"Where are we?" Estel asked.

"Perhaps we are in Hell," Telloss answered wryly, "but a more realistic guess might be that we are within some sort of dungeon chamber beneath the ground." He wrinkled his nose. "The smell comes from the sewer."

Estel also wrinkled his nose. At least that explained everything. Looking around, he saw walls of packed dirt with trickles of wetness and a floor of the same dirt. A door of wood with a wide metal ring for a handle and set in an archway of stone proved the only exit. "How are you feeling, Aire?" he asked.

She forced a smile. "I am not frightened, Estel." Her slender fingers grasped something on a string around her neck. "The pain is nearly gone...and Mother and Father will meet me soon. I will be with them again." Estel saw the tears in Telloss's eyes and the strength that held them back. Airelonde lifted the rope over her neck and extended her hand to Estel. "You said to take this and remember you. In the next world, I will not forget anything. You must take it to remember me."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Estel took the arrowhead. He knew it, for he had taken it from Airelonde's leg on their first meeting. His heart thumped with sadness as the heavy pounding of a happy dog's tail against floorboards.

"Boy."

Telloss and Estel raised their eyes to meet those of the elf who stood before them, a disgusted look on his face.

"The one Elladan calls brother. Come with me."

Estel recoiled, but Pellatal grabbed his tunic and hauled him to his feet. "Good luck," Airelonde called weakly.

"Find peace," Estel replied, then Pellatal yanked him from the room, slamming closed the door behind them.

*

"Wait for Estel here. If he comes, leave. All of you must leave. I will meet you home, in Imladris."

"Elladan." Legolas looked at his friend witheringly. "We stay together."

Elrohir agreed, "We have lost Estel. Elladan, now is not the time for you to be lost."

The three sat in Estel's room. Legolas and Elrohir had by means they refused to state secured their horses out of the city, readying them for a sudden departure. Upon their return Elladan had related to them the threat of Pellatal, and Estel's absence became more and more worrying. Legolas could not help but chew at his fingernails, a habit he had abandoned many years ago. The tension in Elladan's body was obvious and worrying.

They shared a thought but none dared indulge in the oral expression of this fret, until Elrohir lost his patience. "Pellatal clearly knows more than he is sharing. He may have Estel at this moment."

"Then hope is lost."

Legolas and Elrohir did not look at Elladan when he said these words but instead each looked to the other, their jaws slack and their eyes wide. They moved at the same moment. Legolas struck his friend in anger and Elrohir asked him, "Why does this place haunt you so? Why do you act so differently here?" Elladan made no reply, and his brother sat beside him. With an arm around Elladan's shoulders, Elrohir spoke gently, "What is it, Elladan? What is wrong? You always believed in Estel, in his luck and strength. Things have been so much better since the old group disintegrated. You have been his brother, not his teacher, and he loves you so much. Two months ago, had I suggested Estel capable of growing wings you would not have doubted me. What haunts you here, Brother? Please tell me. Let me share your burden."

Elladan raised his eyes slowly, meeting his brother's loving gaze reluctantly. The pain and raw emotion in Elrohir's voice struck deeply in Elladan's chest, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Do you remember the first time we came here? I stayed. I thought it would be for ever. Do you remember the woman, Maikarë? I stayed for her, Elrohir. I loved her. Then there was the attack...All this while I have been a slave to Pellatal's will in my wish to conceal this from you, but no more!" Elladan subconsciously straightened his shoulders. "I killed her, Elrohir. I tell you now, she died by my hand. Blinded by his propaganda and my own stupidity I made this mistake. It was with an arrow, but finding her body upon the field of dead I knew it for my own. I remember...her eyes were open. Ever since those eyes have haunted my dreams, but only here are they so close. I should have closed her eyes, but...Now you know. I am a murderer."

"You are a warrior," Elrohir answered, his determination cloaking his voice in a husky sound not unlike anger. "You should never have gone to the field. Never give death a face."

"He sent me out," Elladan answered. "Pellatal had been with the scavengers upon the field, retrieving unbroken arrows and swords. His shift came before mine: there were so many, so much ground to cover, that we took shifts as a night watcher might. There she was, so beautiful, unscathed by death but for my arrow protruding from her chest, and she was so...so terrified..."

"You used the arrowheads then, didn't you?" Elrohir asked, seeing a glimmer of hope in the darkness and snatching it at once. "The heads you and I developed together?"

Elladan answered to the affirmative on this, not quite understanding. "We called them eagles," he added.

"And developed them to spread more blood in hunting, remember? They would be used to wound a deer. The hunters would track the deer, who would bleed profusely due to the wide opening caused by the arrowhead's design, and that would attract predators, remember?"

Swallowing a sob and a heavy blush, Elladan answered shamefully, "We kept some, though we were ordered to destroy them. All right, I am a traitor as well, are you pleased?"

"Yes," Elrohir answered. "Because you spoke naught of blood."

"No, she did not bleed much."

"Because she was dead a'ready when your arrow reached her!" Elrohir proclaimed, earning him a wide-eyed stare. "Dead bodies do not bleed, Brother. Pellatal killed her ere you stepped upon that field and stabbed your arrow through her heart. I believe this. I believe that my brother never killed his love."

Legolas stood forth. "We must find Estel." The brothers looked to him in disbelief, and he said, "I am sorry. Elladan, I appreciate your distraught. Estel is in danger for his life. We must find him."

They did then, armed with strength renewed by sorrow and understanding, a hatred fueled by anger, and with the most ironic of all wartime weapons, love. The three of them knew without a doubt that they would retrieve Estel by any means necessary. Pellatal had their little brother, to this count nothing could be called into question.

They found Pellatal in the corridor. "Coincidence," he said, "I was just coming to see you."

Pellatal held Estel, bound, a knife to his throat. Grey eyes wide, Estel looked with imploring gaze to the others. Fear-sweat rolled down his forehead, but for all of it he tried to be brave. Pellatal's cool tone pushed Legolas over the edge, and only Elrohir's grip on the prince's arm kept him from jumping forward. This they recognized as a fight between Elladan and Pellatal, and so resigned themselves to the sidelines, ready to jump in should the signal be given.

Elladan said to Pellatal, "Let him go. Your fight is with me. Don't hurt him." He spoke words of negotiation intended to take an innocent out of harm's way.

Pellatal, not to be fooled by such simple trickery, replied, "Someone needs to fall for this Elladan. History needs a villain. I am sorry, my friend. You must light the spark for this fire."

"No," Elladan said. He had his goodness and would not be easily parted from it. "Let him go! Let us all leave here and history need never remember this."

"No?" Pellatal asked, as a parent a disobedient child who refuses to go to bed. Elladan reiterated himself. Pellatal negotiated the hostage child and snapped the ropes around his wrists off with his knife.

"Leave him be," Elladan demanded. "I am not going to fight for you, Pellatal, but I will fight against you. Estel never hurt you. Leave him be."

There was a sickening crack and Estel gasped for air. It was all he could do to keep own his last meal. Bile burned his throat and dizziness swept over him. "Now?" Pellatal asked. Elladan faltered.

Estel joined in here, determined not to fall to weakness, "Elladan, don't! Don't do it, I don't matter, you cannot let them all die!"

"Legolas," Elrohir whispered, "do you smell that?"

"Fire," Legolas answered. "Do you mean to burn us all alive?" he demanded of Pellatal.

To the surprise of all, Pellatal, who seemed of sound mind, began laughing. "I speak of fire as a metaphor. No, Legolas of Mirkwood, if all die in fire there are none over whom I hold power. Do you truly think I wish to destroy my lessers? If all men are equal no man has power."

Again Elrohir caught the implications of this speech. "But your superiors? You are killing them!" Pellatal only grinned in reply. "Legolas, we must find them!"

"Go ahead," Pellatal said, "you shan't find them. Die trying. Run. I will not harm you."

Without a word the two did, bolting from the scene with hopeful parting glances at the boy, whose pain had driven him to an extremely pale hue.

Elladan tried again to negotiate the release of his brother, "Pellatal, please. Just let him go."

Pellatal shook his head; "Wrong answer."

"Wait!" Elladan could not see Estel hurt again. He refused to do it. "The boy has done nothing. Leave him and kill me in his place."

"Elladan!" Estel cried.

But Pellatal narrowed his eyes. "Why do you choose him before me?" Pellatal asked. "Do you know, Elladan, that this is a criminal? He was arrested for physically assaulting members of the city guard."

Elladan's lip curled. "I only wish I had gotten to them first," he answered. "If you care not for him give him to me."

"I think not." Pellatal laughed. "But if you will not join me..."

"Estel!"

He could hardly breathe. Had Pellatal not been holding him up, Estel would have fallen to the ground. Heat like molten metal coursed through his veins, away from the misplaced bone. He could hardly see. Every labored breath caused his belly to shiver. "Kill him, Elladan. Kill him."

Before Elladan could answer, though his expression melted at the corners, they were interrupted by the reappearance of Elrohir and Legolas. It was the latter who spoke. "Seek to rule, Pellatal?" he asked. "Smoke fills the corridors and rooms of this building too quickly. All or none of us will leave this place!"

Before Pellatal could reply, a great explosion rocked the building. The group was shaken, and Estel's head knocked against the wall. He struggled to remain conscious. Sounds of falling pieces echoed. Desperately, Elladan tried, "Would you kill yourself also, Pellatal, instead of handing this boy to me? This city is finished! None shall rule, none but Death holds sway now! There is an evil here and you channel it."

If he did not know the truth of Elladan's words Pellatal ran in fear then, seeing his as a losing battle. He threw forward Estel, to be caught in by Elladan and swung quickly to Elrohir. Elrohir caught Estel round the shoulders without thinking. All of this jolting about addled his troubled mind and stomach, but the pressure on his injured arm was the straw that broke the camel's back: Estel was sick. "I'm sorry, dear," Elrohir said, meaning his words.

As Elrohir gently lifted Estel into his arms and, Legolas at his side, ran for the city gates, knowing that Elladan would meet them there, the latter took a roll of leather from his pocket and swiftly opened it. Pellatal had nearly reached the end of the corridor.

For Elladan, time moved molasses slow as he drew the throwing weapon from its slot in the leather carrier. Luckily for him Pellatal's run was one which kept his head steady, moving only his legs. Elladan drew his hand back and threw the dart with all his strength, watching as it spun out of control towards Pellatal, his breath held--

The dart lodged in Pellatal's shoulder, not his head. The momentum slammed him against the wall, and Elladan took this opportunity to sprint after him.

Out on the field, Elrohir and Legolas ran until they no longer found themselves mired in a bog of frantic beings. As gently as possible Elrohir set Estel on the ground. Legolas turned and watched the flames leap up, made to look brighter by the sickle moon hanging high in the sky. Somewhere in that city, Elladan remained. This brought less sorrow to Legolas's heart than the multitude standing on the grass and watching as their homes burned to the ground. A child began to wail, his cry rising with smoke pillars into the heavens.

Elrohir turned Legolas's attention from the sorry scene, saying, "Legolas, hold him."

Legolas took ahold of Estel, tenderly but firmly securing the boy as Elrohir lifted his arm. "This is not necessary," Estel protested. His objection fell on deaf ears.

Elrohir's voice was quiet as he said, "I love you, little brother." Then he snapped the bones of Estel's arm into place. Estel's eyes bugged open and his mouth fell wide, gasping for breath. He shook with shock and pain, but did not faint or cry out. His muscles spasmed and Estel consciously fought to keep from swallowing his tongue.

"I love you so much." And Elrohir smacked Estel's shoulder back into place. This time Estel bit down against the pain and the tears in his eyes, clenching his teeth to keep from screaming. He did cry, and the tears brushed away the ash that settled on his cheeks.

Legolas, meanwhile, bit his lip to keep from crying out. As he muttered to himself, "Do not make this any worse for him," Legolas rubbed Estel's back as one might a crying infant. Only at the coppery tang of blood did Estel realize that he had sunk his teeth into Legolas's shoulder, and with difficulty he removed them.

The black dizziness that swam before Estel at last he allowed to overtake him, and gladly removed himself to a world of blackness.

*****

To be continued

Author's note: I apologize for any over-exaggerations of the pain of a broken bone, having myself only ever dislocated a shoulder.

Gwyn: No worries there! The next story is almost entirely Legolas angst.

Thanks as usual to all of my reviewers!

Also, I'm looking for a beta reader, so if anyone's interested -please- let me know, I would very much appreciate it!