Part Two con.
Hide and Seek
"The line between failure and success is so fine we scarce know when we have crossed it... As the tide goes out so it comes clear in... A little more persistence, a little more effort and what seemed hopeless failure may turn into glorious success. There is no failure except no longer trying. There is no defeat except form within, no real insurmountable barrier save our own inherent weakness of purpose."
-- Elbert Hubbard
Present...
Legolas stumbled along tiredly. His blue eyes were cloudy as the blood loss from his wound drained his meager amount of strength. It had to stop. His face was looking pale as death though he lived and his lips had a touch of blue. Fire burned form the wound. The elf knew he should by all standards have died, yet he kept living. His body just would not allow itself to rest though it screamed for it, the adrenaline was pulsing through his weary system. The enzyme would allow no rest. He did not find peace enough for rest anyway without knowing the ranger, his closest friend, was safe.
The darkness of night seemed to settle on his very soul and clouded out good thoughts. Then the elven prince looked up at the stars. They shone like small balls of white flame. Their very presence made the burden of sorrow and despair lighter to bear, for they reminded the elf of the one who put them there. It made him want to sing amid his emotional torment. He wondered if Aragorn was looking at those same stars that night and if he felt the hope of a new day that would come and the soft singing in his soul. The elf did not know if it was the same way with humans or not. All elves loved the stars and most of their songs were of the stars, their source of strength.
Legolas leaned against a tree heavily. His breath was coming in deep quick spurts. Sweat glistened on his grimy brow. He felt tired and his body begged for rest. To lie down and sleep was what it craved. His life was leaving him, but he would not let it go, not while Aragorn needed him. He could feel the sticky blood hot on his back. It had to stop. If it did not by the time he reached the ranger he would be of not use to either of them and probably serve as dinner to a pack of wargs, a group of trolls or a host of orcs.
Use of is arm was returning at least. He could reach behind him to whip out his twin knives with it. (he had recovered both of them now.) He still could not use his bow, anyway, his quiver was empty and he needed to search for arrows.
He set his head against the rough trunk and let out a sigh. He could not do this. The prince's body trembled and he did not try to stop it. He was not going to waste his strength by letting his pride get the best of him. If his body was going to tremble, it was going to.
His golden hair fell into his face and he brushed it back with a flip of his good hand. His face had begun to flush with a fever. Now the elf feared what he had been thinking for a long time. The wound he had received was poisoned. That was why the bleeding would not stop, that was why he was feeling sickly. He guessed that if it kept bleeding then it would drain out some of the poison.
Willing himself to get moving, the elf shoved himself away form the tree. His head swam and he felt like he was going to faint. The lack of proper nutrition and hydration had also taken its toll on his weary body. Legolas felt his knees begin to buckle and placed a bloody hand back on the tree for support. He was dying. But he would not die here.
His eyes followed the ground. The brush of the forest was uprooted and hacked away. Orcs had come through here. Some black blood coated several leaves and was smeared on a log. The hideous creatures always fought amongst themselves. The prince hoped Aragorn had not been caught in the middle of the brawl.
Casting himself free of the tree once more, he staggered forward a few small steps. Panting, he looked at the ground some more. Orcs were not hard to track, but signs of a live prisoner being held by them were few and far between.
As a matter of fact, he saw no signs at all. All he saw was the devastation of the orcs hate and strength. Any footprints or fallen weapons were trampled beneath the noisome iron clad feet of the orcs.
He walked further on. He found the ranger's cloak. It lay crumpled on the ground in a heap. The human's red blood stained a small portion of it. Hot tears burned the elf's eyes and he wanted to scream. Had they killed his best friend? Aragorn was the only reason he was staying alive now. Should he go ahead and die? Picking up the discarded mantle, he held it close to himself and looked at it. This was not happening. He had not lost his best friend. No. As he gazed at the cloak, he recalled the ranger's familiar smile and joyest laugh. He remembered the sparkle in the gray eyes of the human after he had always though humans' eyes to be lacking in the spark of life. All these thoughts seemed to fill his mind. But then he recalled what it was like to be held prisoner by orcs and his memories went dark with pain.
Past...
Legolas lay in heap on the floor of his cold, dark cell. The orcs left him alone mostly now at the insistence of the Great Goblin. Legolas was recovering fast and his marred back was already healing up remarkably well. He was still a bit weary.
The darkness still gnawed at his soul and he wanted to scream at night.
The prince shifted and the irons on his ankles and wrists clinked as he sat up and put his back to the stone wall. He brushed his loose blonde hair from his face and put his head back against the cool stone. He was scared and that disturbed him the most.
Goblins, whatever else they may be, are not merciful. They had not kept him alive because they cared for him. They had plans for him because of his race. The stories he had heard, were enough to make his blood run chill and still his heart.
Closing his eyes in despair, he allowed the sleep that he had been longing to get for some time to creep over him.
He had not been sleeping for more than a few minutes (if sleep you call it), however, when he heard heavy foot steps and felt a shiver run down his spine. The orcs were back. It was not the normal time they fed him at either so he could not even guess what they were doing down there and what they wanted with him.
He shuffled to the back of his dark cell and crouched there, waiting for the loathsome creatures to come. His blue eyes went large and his breathing increased.
A large orc came and banged open the door. It clanged loudly against the stone and Legolas put his hands to his ears and winced. The extra sensitive hearing he had made the noise hurt terribly. He heard the orc chuckle and the others behind it do the same.
The prince glared defiantly up at them. His eyes were jaded with ice. The head orc reached his hand out and ran his fingers through Legolas's hair. Legolas pulled his head away and snapped tartly, "don't touch me!"
The orc backhanded the elf and drew blood from Legolas's lips. It continued to backhand him until blood ran from the fair being's nose as well. Legolas still scowled mutinously back. The orc frowned and shoved the prince's face to the side. "E'll learn better soon, once the Great One gets 'old 'o em."
Legolas tone sounded dangerous. "That's what you think slime of holes." The goblin took and pinned the elf to the wall by his neck. Legolas winced as he felt the nails bite into the soft flesh of his throat. He felt panic surge through his body as his air way constricted.
"If you like filth, we can let the fun begin right now! Would you like that!" He got up into the prince's face and his breath was hot on Legolas's cheeks. Legolas felt his eyes grow larger as he stared into the dark red ones. "I didn't think so, so shut your trap and save your breath elf, you'll be need'n it later."
Twisting his thick, black paw into the chain that held Legolas's wrists together, the orc tugged the elf to his feet. The iron manacles bit into Legolas's wrists with a fire. They were already chaffed and this movement inflamed them again. He refused to cringe and let them see how much pain he was really in. His elven pride was stirring again. It ran deep so it was never washed wholly from his mind even all his other memories were.
The orc whispered in his ear, "walk or do you need help?" Legolas glared as he turned on the goblin. His cobalt eyes were slits as he scowled at the creature.
"I do not need help!" he snapped sharply. The orc nearly stepped back as he saw the white flame of determination in the Firstborn's eyes. He was in doubt for the first time since the elf's capture.
His fear of the elf came out in anger and abuse. Grabbing the fair being's chin in his hand, he dug his nails into the slave's skin. Legolas winced as they left slight lacerations in his flesh. The orc smacked the elf openhanded and then backhanded him with such force that Legolas very nearly lost his balance. As he veered the miserable creature brought a single tongued lash across the fair being's shoulders. To Legolas's dismay, this punishment elected a small cry from his bleeding lips as it struck some of his old lacerations, laying them open anew.
The other orcs smelled the fear of their bold companion and out of fear themselves lashed out at the elf. One drove his steel covered knee into the elf's unprotected stomach, doubling the prince over. Legolas felt sick now and his old bruises cried out in protest of the attack. Another kick in the gut had Legolas on the ground.
The elven prince curled into himself, trying to shield his cracked rib from and stomach from further injury. The orcs kicked him and ground him into the stone. The elf bit his lower lip and tried to conceal all verbal signs of pain. His eyes squeezed tightly shut. His life, as he knew it now, was miserable and he wished for death.
He felt cold hands pry his knees, that he had drawn up near his chest, away to expose his abdomen. Two others grabbed the elf's upper arms and hauled him to his knees. Legolas gazed at the dark, twisted faces with pain afflicted eyes. He gasped as he felt the sickening thud of an orc fist slam into his vulnerable stomach.
The urge to throw up called strongly. As the beasts continued with their tormenting sport, Legolas became more willing to listen to his body's request. His head went for ward onto his chest and he shuddered in agony. His cracked rib was surely shattered by now. It was roaring with intense pain and the prince was screaming inside. He wanted to die. He suddenly felt a lump in the back of his throat and a sick feeling under his tongue. He opened his eyes as he suddenly emptied his stomach of its contents. The prince continued to convulse like he was still throwing up, but nothing else came up.
The orcs realized they might have gone a little far. They had been given unmistakable orders not to damage the elf brat too much and it appeared they had. It would be on their heads if the prisoner died or was no longer useful and their master had ways of repaying their zeal they would not like.
The orcs had to find a way to revive the elf enough he would pass as still in relatively good condition. Legolas looked at the slave drivers, the creatures totally bereft of pity. They looked at the blood that trickled form the corner of his mouth and the prince's flushed face. The largest brute took a flask from his bag on his belt.
Taking it in his enormous paw, it burst the top of the bottle off against the rocks. The glass shattered and the bottle was open. A brown liquid sloshed out and spilled on the ground with a soft splatter. Legolas knew what this was and did not think he would be able to withstand the vileness of it. Yet he could not remember what it was nor where he last saw it. All he knew was that it was sickening.
The strange brew of the orcs was oddly sustaining to the race of men if they were forced to take. However, on elves it was different. It made them very nauseous and if they were given the proper amount, it could kill them. The prince's heart quivered.
Apparently, these goblins were completely ignorant of the brew's effects on immortals or else it is doubtful they ever would never have used it on the already sick elf.
The orcs tangled their paws in the prince's gold trusses. They yanked his head forcefully back and put their hands under his chin. Legolas's head was tilted back and they put the vile broken brim to his lips. The elf was thirsty but the was not going to drink this unless they coerced it down him.
He twisted away, or tried to. They grabbed his arms and held him firmly in place. He jerked his head and thrashed it about, causing some of the brew to spill over onto the ground and down the prince's neck. The creatures pinched his nose closed and cut off the air supply from the elf in that regard. Legolas could normally hold his breath a long time, longer than any race living in Middle Earth. Now, however, pain drove him to take deep, sustaining breaths.
As soon as the prince's mouth was open they tipped the phial over and a vile, bitter liquid welled in his mouth. Legolas coughed and spluttered as he was forced to swallow the hateful solution. As he spewed some of the drink up, they poured more into his mouth. The elf was more or less drowning in the toxin. Finally, it came down to breathing or suffocation.
The elf's natural response was to inhale and before he could think, his throat subconsciously swallowed the brew and it was done. He had been poisoned and it was only a matter of time before the toxin showed its violent effects on the elf victim. Legolas drew in a deep shaky breath.
The orcs dragged their prisoner through many passage ways in the dark and were none too gentle with how they handled the aching elf.
He was thrust before the Great Goblin. Legolas's eyes were no longer radiant with light. They were cloudy with pain and weariness. His body was convulsing now as he felt the toxin burn his system. He was feeling violently ill and could not stand on his own. He had to be suspended between two goblins by his arms. His head fell forward onto his sweat slick chest and his head throbbed with each beat of his heart.
The Great Goblin frowned and went over to stand before his slave. He picked up Legolas's face by the chin and looked into the sick elf's eyes. Giving the chin a downward thrust, saw the dark black and blue bruises forming on Legolas's ribs and scowled. "What happened to my prize!" he howled at the lower creatures that stood uncomfortably by the elf. Legolas's body shivered and the orcs let him slide down to his knees. "How can I give him to the Great Eye as a gift now? He was to be my tribute!"
Legolas heard this and was glad he had been poisoned. Being handed over to Sauron would be ten times as bad as this. Anything that would keep him from being used as an instrument of entertainment for the Lord of the Dark was a good thing no matter how strange it seemed.
Legolas's chains clattered as he suddenly fell forward on his face into the dirt.
Present...
Aragorn woke from a dark dream. He tried to roll over and found heavy chains weighed his hands down. His ankles clinked with them too. These were ten times the size needed to keep the weakened man down. The ranger kicked at them and grunted as stunning pain radiated up his left leg. He could feel something grinding in his flesh.
/What in the name of Eru/ Aragorn stared down his body to see a thick arrow shaft protruding from his leg. "Oh, Elbereth!" breathed the ranger. His gray eyes swirled as he looked behind himself at the sound of heavy feet coming his way.
He could see the vague form of the orc captain Raksi. His red eyes burned in the dark with an evil glare. The man resisted the strong urge to shudder. He was not looking forward to what he knew was coming. The captain would not be happy about what had happened.
Aragorn nearly winced as the Raksi growled, "think the stunt you pulled was pretty smart, don't ye?" Aragorn remained silent. He was not going to play the orc's cruel, twisted game. "Answer me when I ask you som'phin!"
"What do you think?" Aragorn answered the orc with a question.
Raksi snarled and stomped over stoutly. "Be careful what you say! Every word and action has a price man filth!" He grabbed the ranger by his collar and snatched him up from the ground.
Aragorn was scared, but was not about to let those creatures see. He was going to deprive them of the response they craved. It was hard not to tremble. He stared at the orc captain with a steady gaze of ice. Raksi saw the jagged edge in the ranger's glittering gray eyes. This angered the orc. He knew the human was afraid. The ranger would show it before the end. Raksi would see to that.
He cast the mortal back to the ground and Aragorn screamed inside as he fell upon the arrow embedded in his leg. His face went white and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The ranger hated this unstoppable show of weakness. To his shame, his face went shade paler as he felt the arrow snap in half. The head remained in his leg. The shaft broke and splintered in to thick, large slivers that pricked his skin as he tried to roll clear of the wood shards.
As he rolled, he clashed with a boot of another orc. It stopped his movement and held him in place. Aragorn felt hot blood run down his leg and fan out on his trousers, making them sticky. His head began to throb as the pounding headache from all his head directed abuse came back into effect.
His breath began to came in faster, shallower inhales and exhales. The human felt ashamed, even though he knew he should not, he was no elf or at least not physically, but in his heart, he would always be one. He hated these physical signs of fear that he could not suppress.
Raksi walked over and lifted the man's chin off the ground with his boot. He looked with a smirk into the human's gray eyes. "You still have to pay for the little prank you pulled earlier wretched human!" Aragorn jerked his chin off the boot toe with a defiant yank. Raksi gave the man a solid kick in the ribs.
The foot hit old bruises and brought their smarting pain to light again. Aragorn's lips moved silently as he mouthed deliriously, 'Legolas...mellon nin...where are you?'
The orc caught the gist of what the human was saying and smiled cruelly. Here was an emotional point to fester. "Your friend is resting in the belly of a warg by now."
Aragorn did not answer. He did not like how the orc seemed to know exactly which points he was most sensitive at. The orc laughed. He could see the anguish in the human's eyes that were dulling over with pain. "He was half dead when we left him." Then Raksi frowned when he saw the ranger close his eyes and ignore him.
Aragorn was trying to push the thought of his friend dying from his mind. He was too weary to fight it, however and shut his eyes to keep tears from leaking out between his lashes. "You know how the wargs eat?" poked the captain, still determined to get a response of emotional torment from the ranger.
"They take and rip the carcass apart with their long claws." Raksi bent down and put his face near the ranger's. "Oh-ho," he cackled. "I have heard the screams of the dying. Did you really think they are all dead before the wargs eat them? No." He scrutinized the ranger's face that was flushing with the want to cry and suppressed anger. "Your elf friend was still alive when we let him. The wound was not fatal-at least not quickly. It is just very painful."
Aragorn wanted to scream. Not Legolas. No. He could not have died this way. He did not think the prince was dead but the thought still set his heart ablaze. Raksi continued with this twisted game. He was going to break the ranger's heart. "Can't you hear his screams man flesh? As the wolves tear him apart slowly, piece by piece? Can't you hear him screaming for you? Pleading for the help that never arrived?"
Finally the ranger could take it no longer. He had been dreading this in his heart since he had been forced to leave his friend behind. "He is not dead!" the ranger was going into denial.
"He is dead human. His blood is on your hands deserter."
"I did not leave him willingly," growled the man. He felt anger boiling up in his soul and it was about to show itself. "His silvery, priceless blood is on your hands spawn of Morgoth!" spat the human with white flame in his eyes.
"How hard did you struggle to be at his side? Deep inside you knew his death was his fate and had no desire to see him die, fade from the world." Hot tears leaked out of the gray eyes, burning the man's cheek with shame. He had failed his friend.
Had he really avoided staying with his friend to the prince's tragic death because deep in his heart, he knew what would happen? Did he really fail the elf? Or did he fail himself? Perhaps he had failed them both. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks in silvery drops unsoiled by the darkness on his heart and the night.
In a sudden rage, the man sprang up, the chains were an after thought of his misery, even catching Raksi off guard. Aragorn pushed aside his pain and was on top of the startled orc captain in an instant. Raksi grabbed the human by the throat and shoved him off roughly. Once he had rid himself of the human's weight, he sprang up like a mad beast, which, actually, he was. He went to the thrown man and grabbed him by the front of his tunic.
Lifting Aragorn so his feet came off the ground, the orc snarled. "You will pay for that trash!" He drew back his fist and slammed it into the man's face, rocketing Aragorn's head sideways and back. Blood pulsed from the ranger's swelling lips. His mouth felt numb. He knew it would hurt later. The orc slammed his knee into the man's stomach and Aragorn doubled over in pain.
Raksi then threw the distraught ranger to the ground almost in a body slam. Aragorn felt this injured leg fall under him and pain shot up the wounded limb. The arrow head ground deeper into the wound and dizziness rolled into the ranger's mind, clouding it up with a nauseating pain. He felt like he was going to vomit. The chains on his hands and feet bit into his already chaffed skin and caused a burning feeling to spread throughout his cuffed arms and legs. The chains clinked as he shifted out of the way of another savage blow. Raksi spat on him. "We'll have fun later human filth." He turned to leave. Suddenly he spun back around. "That's a promise elf-friend!"
Aragorn felt even worse. He had been no friend to the elf. He should have died trying to spare his friend the pain of being eaten alive. Then he furrowed his brow with determination. Legolas was not dead! He would bet his own life on it.
Twin raven-haired elves rode silently by one another through the night. Each was on a white horse. Glorfindel rode a ways behind. He was on his horse Asfaloth. They were following the signs of orcs, but this was easy for them. Orcs made huge tracks. They destroyed everything and moved anything that was not nailed down or too heavy. They were animals, and stupid, terrible ones at that.
Elladan's face was emotionless and almost gray with despair or pain, it as hard to tell which. Elrohir's face was about the same but anger weighed heavily on his features. He hated this. He had been through it before and despised it, he loathed tracking orcs with a passion. He could not bear the thought of them doing to Aragorn what they had done to his mother. He would kill them with his bear hands f they had done half what he thought they were doing. Elladan looked at his brother and knew what Elrohir was thinking, for it was in his mind as well.
Elladan was angry, but he was more hurt. All his memories were flooding back. He should have been with his mother that fateful day. He and Elrohir should have been her escort. Maybe none of this would have happened. Or perhaps they would have died with her inside, shared her fate and gone into the west , that would have been more merciful. Instead now they were forced to relive the past. But in his heart the midnight haired elf knew that he and Elrohir had been spared to be with Aragorn and that maybe they were kept alive for this very time in the ranger's life, to see him through this trial.
Glorfindel looked at both of the twins. He read their thoughts. He knew exactly what they were feeling. He could eel it in his heart without using his gift of mind perusal. He had been there too, on that day. He had seen Celebrain go west, though he had barely known her, he felt the others pain and knew she was a great elf maiden and gave her grave respect even as she faded from Middle Earth. The elf lord observed the ground closely. They were in the woods now, where the battle had been. His sharp eyes saw a flash of silver and red.
Elven blood. It was a dark color in the night, nearly black, save for the sparkle of silver.
He reined his horse in and called to the twins, "Elladan and Elrohir! Come! See what I have found!"
Both of the raven haired elves spun their horses around and came back. Hope spurred in their hearts. Then they followed the elf lord's gaze and their stomach did flips. Elf blood pooled in the ground, coating leaves and grass. It trailed on in a wet uneven line of dots and splashes. Someone had lay there long and bled like a water being poured from a pitcher. Glorfindel and the brethren knew at once who had lain here. Legolas son of Thranduil had lay here and bled his blood.
He had got up at some point. The way the leaves were ruffed and mud shown through some parts in the normally thick blanket on the forest floor, showed that the prince had dragged him self to his feet.
To their dismay and horror, they saw the huge tracks or wargs. One set followed the prince and there were signs of an intense struggle. Blood, red blood, elven blood, was drenching everything. Poor Legolas. They could only imagine what he must have gone through before he died. What he the prince done that this should be his fate?
Glorfindel's swift eyes fell upon a heap of cloth that lay on the ground. It was a gray-green cloak. As the elf lord gazed closer he saw it had been worn by Legolas. It now was ripped and tattered on the ground, drenched in blood, black and red alike.
Hot tears stung in the golden haired elf's eyes. What had Legolas done to garn this death? Elladan and Elrohir spurred their horses near the edge of the cliff that hung over a deep, swift stream. Signs of battle were all around the edge. They saw boot imprints in the soft mud. Legolas never left boot prints, he was a true elf and walked lightly. These were too small and lean to be those of orcs. They were the ranger's, their brother. "Agh!" cried Elrohir. "He was here!"
Elladan nodded and sighed. "Yes, here was Estel. Yet he did not die here. The orcs carried him off, this we know."
Elrohir looked at the ground, studying it intently. "But why did he not die here?"
Glorfindel rode Asfaloth up alongside their horses. "I can explain that I think." He looked into their faces. "We know Legolas was with him. The prince would never let harm come to the ranger if he could avert it, therefore, I guess he interfered." His eyes fell to a splintered orc shaft lying on the ground. It was coated in elf blood as well. "He was rewarded with an arrow, look!"
The twins looked to were the Gondolin elf pointed. It was true. Legolas had been shot. "But the arrow is not in him now," stated Elladan somewhat puzzled. "How in Elbereth...?"
"Well the orcs are barbarous by nature. After the arrow splintered and the prince fell I would guess they yanked it out," answered Glorfindel bitterly, as though stating such cruelty was a torment to his mouth and being. He could hardly guess how that must have felt, for orc shafts were thick and their heads serrated and wide. It must have ripped the prince's flesh to shreds. Elladan unconsciously flinched and Elrohir shuddered.
"Well then let us rescue Estel and have vengeance for our fallen friend," growled Elrohir malignantly, and with suppressed hostility. He turned his horse and spurred it hard, causing it to rear up. Elladan followed behind him.
A rumble suddenly filled the forest. Limbs shook and leaves fell from the trees. The horse shied and neighed in fright. Elladan and Elrohir looked at one another then at Glorfindel whose face was contorted as he recognized the approach of dreaded company, trolls, more than one.
Elrohir's horse suddenly tried to bolt. The midnight haired elf tried to subdue it, but it was of no use. The animal had gone mad with panic. He slammed Elrohir into the side of a tree as the 'younger' twin tried to pull back the reins. Elrohir felt pain jolt up his leg and a splintering agony. Elladan rode up to his brother's side and grasped the horse by the bridle.
The mad animal reared up, pawing at Elladan's face with its hooves. As it whipped its head around the bridle snapped. "Jump El!" called Elladan to his 'younger' brother.
"I can't. The horse has done something to my leg. I can barely move it!" Elrohir's face was white with pain. He had the sinking feeling his leg was broken.
Glorfindel urged his horse forward and grasped Elrohir about the middle. "Free your feet from the stirrups," hissed the elf lord through grit teeth. Elrohir kicked his left foot free, but the other one was unmovable. Elladan went to the other side and checked his horse to a stop. Taking the reins. He pulled them tight and wrapped them around the pummel of the saddle. He gently took his brother's foot in his hands and eased it free. Raising himself back up in the saddle, he gave the okay sign to Glorfindel.
The Gondolin elf pulled the raven haired one from the saddle. Elrohir gasped as his leg was moved and banged slightly on Asfaltoh's side.
Glorfindel looked at Elladan and then suddenly his eyes went beyond the son of Elrond and became wide. "Elladan! Look out!" Elladan looked at the elf lord in confusion at first then he spun around just in time to see a huge troll hand aim a painful stroke at him. Elladan ducked the blow and whirled the horse around with his bow already in hand. In his start, he had forgotten that trolls' hides are thicker than the rock they were made of and that arrows would crumple against them unless you struck their eyes or their mouth. Elladan fired a projectile and it hit the creature's arm and bounced harmlessly off. The troll looked at the twin with a look of anger.
Elladan's horse pitched him off without warning and he found himself sailing through the air staring with a gaping mouth the leafy ground below. He fell to the ground with a solid thump and felt his head throbbing from the jolt. He could not focus his eyes and it appeared to him that there were two trolls getting ready to pounce on him. He looked groggily at the creature's' and drew out his sword to fend off their blows.
Glorfindel looked at the dazed son of Elrond and fired an arrow to distract the troll about to slay the raven-haired elf. It struck the troll in the face, only a few inches short of the right eye. It left a cut and the troll's huge paw went to its stricken face.
Elrohir suddenly heard a crunch of twigs and the snap of branches behind he and Glorfindel and twisted his head around to see a very large troll with a broad grin on its face. It thought it had caught the elves unawares and was going to have elf meat that night. A sour expression crossed its face as it saw that Elrohir had his bow already notched and fixed on him. Then with a smirk he chuckled. He knew as well as the midnight haired elf that arrows were useless against him unless it struck his soft spots.
Elladan regained his senses enough to scramble out of the way as the troll tried to stomp him flat. The troll rumbled sounds of frustration and disapproval. This elf was going to be his. "Come 'ere ya little blighter!" it bellowed out at the defiant fair being who brandished his sword at the creature.
"Why don't you come get me!" growled Elladan fiercely.
The troll spat. "Fine, I will." He smiled twistedly. "It makes the catch more interesting."
Elrohir looked at his brother, ignoring the beast that stalked behind them. "Dan!" he screamed. Then his gaze fixe on the troll with intense anger. "You keep your ugly paws off my brother or I swear by Eärendil's light I will slay you!" He ignored the pain in his leg and struggled to get off the horse. Glorfindel pulled Elrohir closer to him to hold the twin before him on the horse.
"Elrohir," breathed the elf lord, "now is not the time for rash actions."
The troll looked beyond the two on the horse and said to the troll beyond them, "Ey! Bill! Look!" He pointed to the struggling Elrohir whose eyes were of ice and steel now. Then he looked at Glorfindel. "Go ahead, turn 'em loose." Glorfindel gazed back at the troll with a steady glare of his own.
"I would rather not produce of stone!" spat the Balrog-slayer.
The troll chuckled. "Not afraid we'd be too much for 'em, eh?"
"On the contrary," replied Glorfindel smoothly. "I think he would be too much for you both!"
The troll laughed even more. "Show us then."
"Later," responded Glorfindel flatly. He had no time for these creature's stupidity. He also did not want to see the rash Elrohir get pummeled into the ground by troll feet.
The troll shrugged. "Lying elf. That's okay then, I'll just take this one." He reached down to lift Elladan off the ground. Bill, behind Glorfindel and Elrohir said;
"Hey! I want 'em! You always get the good stuff for yerself!"
The troll preparing to grab Elladan (who was getting ready to stab the creature's hand with his sword) looked at the other. "Fine then. You get half and I'll get half." Elrohir struggled to free of Glorfindel's firm hold.
"No! I got a 'etter idea!" Bill looked at the two on the mount. His gaze seemed to pierce Elrohir. "There's two of them, see? I get this one." Elladan rolled his eyes. These were not the stupidest trolls he had ever seen, but they passed as a second.
"There is not two! That ones different!" stormed the troll hovering over the glowering Elladan who was shrinking back. Glorfindel looked at Elladan and saw what the son of Elrond was about to do. Elrohir did not catch on and was going to fire an arrow into the eye of one of the trolls.
Glorfindel silently caught his arm. "Wait." He pointed to Elladan. Elrohir saw his brother and nodded.
The trolls continued their argument. It is likely they had forgotten the elves all together. "There is two 'o the same!"
"No there isn't neither! That one's got green eyes!" thundered the troll that was storming away from Elladan towards the other troll.
"Yer a blundering liar! They both have brown eyes!" (which of course neither of the bothers had)
"No! This one 'as got blue! That one 'as got green!"
"I know," it dawned on Bill, "they're twins!" By this time, Elladan had gotten up to his feet without so much as making a sound. He had scuttled back into the brush and was motioning for Glorfindel to follow with Elrohir.
"Twins!" roared the other. A loud laugh rumbled in his chest that shook the leaves from the trees. "Who ever 'eard 'o twin elves! Yer a booby witted fool!"
"They are twins and yer the one whose a fool Bert!"
"Yer wanna fight!" raged the furious Bert savagely. He stomped so the earth shook and trees trembled.
"So what if I do!" snapped Bill viciously back. Glorfindel carefully guided Asfaloth between the two mad trolls. He had barely gotten them all into the woods when he heard a loud crash as the two crazed beasts went at each other.
One of them smashed into a tree and it fell with a splintering crash.
Glorfindel stopped his horse by Elladan to allow the Son of Elrond to hop up.
"That was close," whispered Glorfindel once they were well hidden in the darkness. His blue eyes swiveled back to see the outline of the still fighting trolls.
"Too close," agreed Elladan with a wry grin, who had come close to being split in half and eaten/stomped.
"Way too close Dan!" said Elrohir. "We almost lost you!"
"Now let us hope we get away before we are missed," hissed Glorfindel as he urged Asfaloth into a smooth canter. Asfaloth was his best horse, he was always there for the elf lord.
"Yes," sighed Elladan, "lets." They had already wasted valuable time.
TBC...nothing really to say except, PLEASE REVIEW! What do you think the little button in the bottom left is for? If you aren't sure, click it and find out, k? Thanks. Oh yah, one more thing Celeb just remembered. What is the best Medical Dictionary to get your opinions? Please tell us! Celeb is gonna need it for her next story! Okay, we'll let ya go now! Namarie (for now)
Strider's Girl So you decided to keep reading! Wha-hoo! Glad you are still with us! Oh--...um... one last thing... please do not use the word 'God' in vain in your review...we know this seems like we're nagging you but please don't...it's a pet peeve of ours! Sorry if we have offended you...that was our last...not even one of...our intentions! Please humor us! Please! Thanks! We still appreciate your nice review!
Deana Great! You're still with us too!
Gozilla Sorry we did not respond sooner, we did not get it until it was too late and we had already posted. (stupid, slow net! Grrrrr.. Doesn't it get on your nerves at times!) Well it gets on ours...but hey, we can still write and post so maybe we shouldn't complain!
Requiana You like it that much! Cool! We intend to keep posting! Thanks for R&R!