A/N: So soon, the next chapter. Another cliffie! Hehe.Damn, I wish all of u
could see this in your minds the way I do.
Btw, I just bought yet another Classical CD collection, this one featuring
piano and guitar and all throughout this chapter, I was listening to the
guitar playing the classical version of Scarborough Fair. This is what I
imagine Elladan to be playing as well.beautiful piece.
Anyway, enjoy. Please read and REVIEW!!! I also updated Brothers in Heart
once more..Thank you to all my dear reviewers for their kind words. ^_^
Chapter 4
They had been parted. At some point, they had been forced to split up, for they would be easier to hunt down in a group. The first twenty minutes of galloping for their lives had given them a safe distance, yet they could not stop until they reached Imladris. Now, the Elven-bred horses trotted steadily with an edge. They sensed the uneasiness in their riders, and were therefore anxious themselves.
Elladan slowed his mare to a halt after having fled for a long while. He was alone now and no longer being followed, much to his relief. He knew what to do. He had to reach Imladris without returning to his old path. That would be simply for him, yet he was not at ease. As Elladan stared back into the trees, with no other sign of life other than himself, he wondered and worried for Elrohir. Where was his twin? Had he escaped the Orcs? How far away Elladan from Elrohir now? He didn't know. He didn't know if Estel had escaped or if Legolas was dead or if they would get home in time. He felt a great pull at his heart to go back. He wanted to go back for them all. Now that he was alone, Elladan didn't feel right. He needed his twin. He needed Elrohir.
Elrohir was alone. The Orcs had abandoned their pursuit now, and there was no need for haste any longer. At least not for now. He peered back over his shoulder, panting audibly. Yet no matter how long or how hard he looked, Elladan was not there. An ominous fear was knotted up in his chest now. Where was Elladan? Was he safe? Had those treacherous beasts caught him? Elrohir's eyes widened at the thought and he turned his horse around. If his twin was hurt, he had to go back for him. He had to save Elladan. But Elrohir stopped himself. No, he couldn't go back now. Elladan was fine. He must be. Elrohir would have felt it if Elladan had been harmed. The younger twin's gray eyes were bright with restless worry. It seemed as if there was not a sound for miles around him, there in the trees. Why had Elladan left him alone? And what's more, why had he left Elladan? Would his brother resent him for leaving? Would Elladan even be there to greet Elrohir in Imladris? What if he wasn't? What Elrond was the one to greet Elrohir with the familiar grim expression on his face that Elrohir had seen so many times upon his father? What if it was because Elladan had never come home?
Elrohir's eyes were glistening with tears as he stared through them stubbornly, as if his twin would return to him if he stared hard enough. After a long while, the raven-haired Elf slipped away from his horse and led it just a little farther. With his eyes clouded, Elrohir wound the reins on a branch of a tree, before looking up into its branches. He shuddered and looked around again. Alone. He sprang up into the tree and found its center, where the branches sprouted. These trees were not so tall. There, the tree cradled the lonely Elf who had come to it for refuge, recognizing a child of the First Born. Elrohir wrapped his gray robes around himself as he huddled amidst the branches. He did not make a sound and did no shed a tear for a long time. They pooled in his doe eyes as he remembered.
-::-
// It was a perfect summer evening. The stars were abundant and twinkling in the indigo sky. Somewhere, the moon cast a silver veil over Imladris, the Elven realm nestled below the hills of the valley. The fountains flowed with a gentle murmur of water. The Last Homely House glowed with candlelight, golden as always. The gardens were full of vivid flowers that never died. Leaves still fell away from the branches, floating soundlessly in what seemed to be a perpetual autumn. Coated the ground and would have been rustled away by the wind if it had been that sort of day.
This was where Elrohir found his brother. Elrond's youngest son appeared in the midst of his family's gardens from the house, a smile of bliss upon his ever-youthful face. Just to be here, outside in the beauty of his home, was enough to bring Elrohir joy. With soundless footsteps, he walked clad in a tunic of gold, the color Imladris in late afternoon. His leggings matched, with his soft leather boots fitting over his legs like a second skin. His silken tresses spilled over his shoulder and down his back like night itself, swaying lightly like every leaf he brushed up against when he walked by. A circlet of silver curled across his brow and glinted when it caught the moonlight. His beauty was the equivalent of Legolas', contrasting the light looks of Mirkwood's prince with his own dark appearance. Elrohir smiled once more as he approached one of the fountains and saw his twin through the water. The other Elf had his back to Elrohir, his raven hair sweeping down his back.
Elladan smiled to himself as he felt Elrohir approach from behind. In the next moment, his beloved twin was seated beside him on the wide stone rim of the fountain's base. He did not give his brother a look straight away, but he knew that Elrohir beamed at him as he strummed softly on his lute.
Elladan's lute. It had been crafted with wood from the cedars that towered over the Sea of Rhun. It's smooth surface now gleamed in the evening, as from its strings drifted sweet and melancholy music. The tune Elladan was playing had always struck Elrohir as beautiful and it had quickly become his favorite. Elladan played it for him often now.
The elder of the twins finally looked up at his brother, his nimble fingers charming the strings. He smiled at Elrohir who watched him with tremendous love and admiration. Elladan did not look nearly as resplendent as his brother did. He was clothed merely in a soft leather vest of dark green, with brown leggings and dark boots. The wide sleeves of his white blouse hung loosely on his arms. Yet somehow, despite his simple clothes and the lack of his own silver circlet, Elladan was beautiful. Elrohir had always thought his twin to be so.
There they sat for yet a while longer into the night, neither speaking. Their gray eyes were locked and they gazed at each other with an intensity that was not immediately seen through their cloak of ease. Elladan's music filled the gardens and the night, and Elrohir thought he might never be more contented than in this night. //
-::-
A silver pearl of mithril escaped Elrohir's eyes like a drop of rain from their glass. He sat in the cradle of that tree alone. And he wept.
Aragorn had been riding for hours now, never satisfied with the distance that he had put between himself and the Orcs. He had left the twins long ago, and although there was no one when he looked back over his shoulder, he kept going. The sun had abandoned day. The sky was hidden behind the mass of gray clouds that seemed to go on forever and ever. The wind had come, mild and soothing.
The ranger urged his horse on for a little while longer, before finally slowing. He had lost his beastly pursuers for the time being. The horse clopped a few steps more before coming to a still halt and shaking its head.
" We've stopped, mellonin," Aragorn told Legolas as he dismounted. " No more riding for now." He reached up and pulled Legolas' huddled form down into his arms. The Elf was wrapped up in his gray cloak, the hood drawn up over his head. He was light in the ranger's arms, as Aragorn sauntered further on foot in search of a place to settle. The horse followed faithfully behind.
" Estel," Legolas whimpered.
" Yes, Legolas, I'm right here," Aragorn reassured.
" I'm dying," the prince whispered.
" Of course you're not," the man told his best friend. " I'm going to get you to my father in Imladris, and you'll be fine, mellonin." He looked down into the gray hood, into the archer's face. " Just fine."
The Elf said nothing. He was unnaturally pale, with not enough strength to stand alone. His brow burned with fever and his every limb ached in moving no matter how little. The light in his eyes was fading. He was losing hope. He was dying. Dying in Estel's arms.
" Here we are," Aragorn uttered as he found a tree that suited him and crouched down to lay his best friend on the ground. " Don't leave me," the prince pleaded so quietly it was almost inaudible.
" I never will, Legolas," answered the ranger.
The blonde lay limp on the ground, his head against the trunk. His eyes were closed as he struggled to breathe. Estel turned back to fetch things from his pack that had been strapped to his horses' saddle. His gray eyes mirrored the sky above the foliage, and he looked to the clouds for a moment.
" Oh, Eru, it hurts," Legolas cried out suddenly.
Estel leapt back to the Elf's side into a crouch.
" What is it, Legolas? What's wrong? " he questioned in rapid succession.
The archer was arching up, falling back down, before rising again. His hands were clutched to his stomach and his wound. His eyes were pressed shut in torment.
" Ai, Valar, " he gasped. " It hurts, Estel. Make it stop. Please."
" All right, Legolas. It's okay. Hold still." He was trying to calm the Elf with his gentle tone, his hands hovering over the prince. His eyes were wide and focused. He plunged his hand into his medicine bag that hung at his side, feeling for painkillers.
" Oh, Elbereth, why does it have to hurt so much? " Legolas sighed. Pain had suddenly erupted in his abdomen with no warning, spread beyond his wound. Aragorn silently knew it was due to the poison.
" Hold on, Legolas," Aragorn said as he drew the pouch he sought and opened it up to retrieve the powder. " Hold on." He poured some of it in the palm of his hand as Legolas whimpered over and over, trying not cry. The ranger carefully helped him to sit up with his free arm and lifted his hand to the Elf's lips, cupped like a bowl. He tilted the powder into the archer's mouth, before replacing his hand with a water skin for the Elf to drink from.
" Okay, it's all right now. You're going to be okay, mellonin." Estel tried to soothe him as he lowered himself down onto the ground beside Legolas and took the Elf into his arms. He held his best friend tenderly, hushing Legolas' whimpers. The herbs would take time to kick in. Until then, Legolas suffered.
" Shhh," Estel whispered softly, cradling the Elf to his chest as he stroked over Legolas' fair head. " It's all right."
" Estel, I'm afraid," Legolas admitted with the voice of a child.
" I'm right here, Legolas. I'm right here," Aragorn assured. " You don't have anything to be afraid of."
" I don't feel well, Estel. I don't feel well and it hurts and I want it to stop," the Elf sobbed. He wept into Aragorn's chest.
" I know," Aragorn murmured. Stroke, cradle, rock, touch. " I know."
Elladan stood tall, leaning against one of the many trees that surrounded him with his arms crossed over his chest. One corner of his cloak was curled up around his legs in the wind. His mare grazed nearby on a patch of grass. It had grown just a bit darker now. He did not know how long he had lingered here, but for some reason, he just could not go on yet. He thought of Elrohir again, staring out into nothingness with a glint in his gray eyes.
" Elrohir," he breathed. " Where are you, brother? "
He spoke out as his eyes wandered over his surroundings. The wind gave no reply.
Suddenly, his head snapped to his right. He had heard something. There were footfalls in the distance. His eyes glimmered. They were not welcome visitors. Elladan sprang over to his horse and sat bestride it once more. He urged it on quietly with a click of his tongue. It crept through the trees back the way he had came. Elladan listened and watched and waited.
Orcs came into view. The whole hoard that had been following the group before had tracked him. They were running at him now, and he could see them beyond many trees. Something flashed through his gray eyes, yet it was gone before it could be identified. Elladan did not turn around. He did not make a move to flee. He sat still atop his mare and waited. The beasts growled and roared as they spotted him, blood-caked scimitars in hand.
After a long moment, Elladan's gloved hand reached across his torso and closed around the hilt of his sword. It was in the likeness of Arwen's blade, Hadhafang, yet it was longer and laden with silver instead of gold. Its blade curved in the air at the tip once he had it raised. Elladan had never taken his gray eyes off of them. He calmed his horse, his gaze fixed ahead. He was not afraid.
// A smile crossed his face. //
The wind rustled the tree foliage around him.
// His twin smiled back. //
The earth rumbled beneath the pounding footsteps of the Orcs.
// Their eyes locked. //
They growled with blood lust.
// His brother smiled. //
They were coming for him.
//His fingers caressed the lute strings. //
He watched them come.
// Elrohir. //
He was not afraid.
Chapter 4
They had been parted. At some point, they had been forced to split up, for they would be easier to hunt down in a group. The first twenty minutes of galloping for their lives had given them a safe distance, yet they could not stop until they reached Imladris. Now, the Elven-bred horses trotted steadily with an edge. They sensed the uneasiness in their riders, and were therefore anxious themselves.
Elladan slowed his mare to a halt after having fled for a long while. He was alone now and no longer being followed, much to his relief. He knew what to do. He had to reach Imladris without returning to his old path. That would be simply for him, yet he was not at ease. As Elladan stared back into the trees, with no other sign of life other than himself, he wondered and worried for Elrohir. Where was his twin? Had he escaped the Orcs? How far away Elladan from Elrohir now? He didn't know. He didn't know if Estel had escaped or if Legolas was dead or if they would get home in time. He felt a great pull at his heart to go back. He wanted to go back for them all. Now that he was alone, Elladan didn't feel right. He needed his twin. He needed Elrohir.
Elrohir was alone. The Orcs had abandoned their pursuit now, and there was no need for haste any longer. At least not for now. He peered back over his shoulder, panting audibly. Yet no matter how long or how hard he looked, Elladan was not there. An ominous fear was knotted up in his chest now. Where was Elladan? Was he safe? Had those treacherous beasts caught him? Elrohir's eyes widened at the thought and he turned his horse around. If his twin was hurt, he had to go back for him. He had to save Elladan. But Elrohir stopped himself. No, he couldn't go back now. Elladan was fine. He must be. Elrohir would have felt it if Elladan had been harmed. The younger twin's gray eyes were bright with restless worry. It seemed as if there was not a sound for miles around him, there in the trees. Why had Elladan left him alone? And what's more, why had he left Elladan? Would his brother resent him for leaving? Would Elladan even be there to greet Elrohir in Imladris? What if he wasn't? What Elrond was the one to greet Elrohir with the familiar grim expression on his face that Elrohir had seen so many times upon his father? What if it was because Elladan had never come home?
Elrohir's eyes were glistening with tears as he stared through them stubbornly, as if his twin would return to him if he stared hard enough. After a long while, the raven-haired Elf slipped away from his horse and led it just a little farther. With his eyes clouded, Elrohir wound the reins on a branch of a tree, before looking up into its branches. He shuddered and looked around again. Alone. He sprang up into the tree and found its center, where the branches sprouted. These trees were not so tall. There, the tree cradled the lonely Elf who had come to it for refuge, recognizing a child of the First Born. Elrohir wrapped his gray robes around himself as he huddled amidst the branches. He did not make a sound and did no shed a tear for a long time. They pooled in his doe eyes as he remembered.
-::-
// It was a perfect summer evening. The stars were abundant and twinkling in the indigo sky. Somewhere, the moon cast a silver veil over Imladris, the Elven realm nestled below the hills of the valley. The fountains flowed with a gentle murmur of water. The Last Homely House glowed with candlelight, golden as always. The gardens were full of vivid flowers that never died. Leaves still fell away from the branches, floating soundlessly in what seemed to be a perpetual autumn. Coated the ground and would have been rustled away by the wind if it had been that sort of day.
This was where Elrohir found his brother. Elrond's youngest son appeared in the midst of his family's gardens from the house, a smile of bliss upon his ever-youthful face. Just to be here, outside in the beauty of his home, was enough to bring Elrohir joy. With soundless footsteps, he walked clad in a tunic of gold, the color Imladris in late afternoon. His leggings matched, with his soft leather boots fitting over his legs like a second skin. His silken tresses spilled over his shoulder and down his back like night itself, swaying lightly like every leaf he brushed up against when he walked by. A circlet of silver curled across his brow and glinted when it caught the moonlight. His beauty was the equivalent of Legolas', contrasting the light looks of Mirkwood's prince with his own dark appearance. Elrohir smiled once more as he approached one of the fountains and saw his twin through the water. The other Elf had his back to Elrohir, his raven hair sweeping down his back.
Elladan smiled to himself as he felt Elrohir approach from behind. In the next moment, his beloved twin was seated beside him on the wide stone rim of the fountain's base. He did not give his brother a look straight away, but he knew that Elrohir beamed at him as he strummed softly on his lute.
Elladan's lute. It had been crafted with wood from the cedars that towered over the Sea of Rhun. It's smooth surface now gleamed in the evening, as from its strings drifted sweet and melancholy music. The tune Elladan was playing had always struck Elrohir as beautiful and it had quickly become his favorite. Elladan played it for him often now.
The elder of the twins finally looked up at his brother, his nimble fingers charming the strings. He smiled at Elrohir who watched him with tremendous love and admiration. Elladan did not look nearly as resplendent as his brother did. He was clothed merely in a soft leather vest of dark green, with brown leggings and dark boots. The wide sleeves of his white blouse hung loosely on his arms. Yet somehow, despite his simple clothes and the lack of his own silver circlet, Elladan was beautiful. Elrohir had always thought his twin to be so.
There they sat for yet a while longer into the night, neither speaking. Their gray eyes were locked and they gazed at each other with an intensity that was not immediately seen through their cloak of ease. Elladan's music filled the gardens and the night, and Elrohir thought he might never be more contented than in this night. //
-::-
A silver pearl of mithril escaped Elrohir's eyes like a drop of rain from their glass. He sat in the cradle of that tree alone. And he wept.
Aragorn had been riding for hours now, never satisfied with the distance that he had put between himself and the Orcs. He had left the twins long ago, and although there was no one when he looked back over his shoulder, he kept going. The sun had abandoned day. The sky was hidden behind the mass of gray clouds that seemed to go on forever and ever. The wind had come, mild and soothing.
The ranger urged his horse on for a little while longer, before finally slowing. He had lost his beastly pursuers for the time being. The horse clopped a few steps more before coming to a still halt and shaking its head.
" We've stopped, mellonin," Aragorn told Legolas as he dismounted. " No more riding for now." He reached up and pulled Legolas' huddled form down into his arms. The Elf was wrapped up in his gray cloak, the hood drawn up over his head. He was light in the ranger's arms, as Aragorn sauntered further on foot in search of a place to settle. The horse followed faithfully behind.
" Estel," Legolas whimpered.
" Yes, Legolas, I'm right here," Aragorn reassured.
" I'm dying," the prince whispered.
" Of course you're not," the man told his best friend. " I'm going to get you to my father in Imladris, and you'll be fine, mellonin." He looked down into the gray hood, into the archer's face. " Just fine."
The Elf said nothing. He was unnaturally pale, with not enough strength to stand alone. His brow burned with fever and his every limb ached in moving no matter how little. The light in his eyes was fading. He was losing hope. He was dying. Dying in Estel's arms.
" Here we are," Aragorn uttered as he found a tree that suited him and crouched down to lay his best friend on the ground. " Don't leave me," the prince pleaded so quietly it was almost inaudible.
" I never will, Legolas," answered the ranger.
The blonde lay limp on the ground, his head against the trunk. His eyes were closed as he struggled to breathe. Estel turned back to fetch things from his pack that had been strapped to his horses' saddle. His gray eyes mirrored the sky above the foliage, and he looked to the clouds for a moment.
" Oh, Eru, it hurts," Legolas cried out suddenly.
Estel leapt back to the Elf's side into a crouch.
" What is it, Legolas? What's wrong? " he questioned in rapid succession.
The archer was arching up, falling back down, before rising again. His hands were clutched to his stomach and his wound. His eyes were pressed shut in torment.
" Ai, Valar, " he gasped. " It hurts, Estel. Make it stop. Please."
" All right, Legolas. It's okay. Hold still." He was trying to calm the Elf with his gentle tone, his hands hovering over the prince. His eyes were wide and focused. He plunged his hand into his medicine bag that hung at his side, feeling for painkillers.
" Oh, Elbereth, why does it have to hurt so much? " Legolas sighed. Pain had suddenly erupted in his abdomen with no warning, spread beyond his wound. Aragorn silently knew it was due to the poison.
" Hold on, Legolas," Aragorn said as he drew the pouch he sought and opened it up to retrieve the powder. " Hold on." He poured some of it in the palm of his hand as Legolas whimpered over and over, trying not cry. The ranger carefully helped him to sit up with his free arm and lifted his hand to the Elf's lips, cupped like a bowl. He tilted the powder into the archer's mouth, before replacing his hand with a water skin for the Elf to drink from.
" Okay, it's all right now. You're going to be okay, mellonin." Estel tried to soothe him as he lowered himself down onto the ground beside Legolas and took the Elf into his arms. He held his best friend tenderly, hushing Legolas' whimpers. The herbs would take time to kick in. Until then, Legolas suffered.
" Shhh," Estel whispered softly, cradling the Elf to his chest as he stroked over Legolas' fair head. " It's all right."
" Estel, I'm afraid," Legolas admitted with the voice of a child.
" I'm right here, Legolas. I'm right here," Aragorn assured. " You don't have anything to be afraid of."
" I don't feel well, Estel. I don't feel well and it hurts and I want it to stop," the Elf sobbed. He wept into Aragorn's chest.
" I know," Aragorn murmured. Stroke, cradle, rock, touch. " I know."
Elladan stood tall, leaning against one of the many trees that surrounded him with his arms crossed over his chest. One corner of his cloak was curled up around his legs in the wind. His mare grazed nearby on a patch of grass. It had grown just a bit darker now. He did not know how long he had lingered here, but for some reason, he just could not go on yet. He thought of Elrohir again, staring out into nothingness with a glint in his gray eyes.
" Elrohir," he breathed. " Where are you, brother? "
He spoke out as his eyes wandered over his surroundings. The wind gave no reply.
Suddenly, his head snapped to his right. He had heard something. There were footfalls in the distance. His eyes glimmered. They were not welcome visitors. Elladan sprang over to his horse and sat bestride it once more. He urged it on quietly with a click of his tongue. It crept through the trees back the way he had came. Elladan listened and watched and waited.
Orcs came into view. The whole hoard that had been following the group before had tracked him. They were running at him now, and he could see them beyond many trees. Something flashed through his gray eyes, yet it was gone before it could be identified. Elladan did not turn around. He did not make a move to flee. He sat still atop his mare and waited. The beasts growled and roared as they spotted him, blood-caked scimitars in hand.
After a long moment, Elladan's gloved hand reached across his torso and closed around the hilt of his sword. It was in the likeness of Arwen's blade, Hadhafang, yet it was longer and laden with silver instead of gold. Its blade curved in the air at the tip once he had it raised. Elladan had never taken his gray eyes off of them. He calmed his horse, his gaze fixed ahead. He was not afraid.
// A smile crossed his face. //
The wind rustled the tree foliage around him.
// His twin smiled back. //
The earth rumbled beneath the pounding footsteps of the Orcs.
// Their eyes locked. //
They growled with blood lust.
// His brother smiled. //
They were coming for him.
//His fingers caressed the lute strings. //
He watched them come.
// Elrohir. //
He was not afraid.