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Chapter 17: Losing Friends

Legolas ran as fast as he could, clutching his injured arm close, blinking away the tears that blurred his vision.

'Estel, I'm so sorry…'

He wasn't quite sure what he was sorry for. Was it for allowing Estel to be injured, or for leaving him? Or both?

Lord Elrond's words rang in his mind: "Your departure would hurt him more than everything that happened these past weeks!"

But this was the right thing to do…

Wasn't it?

'How upset could Estel possibly be that I left?'

A lot, he realized. He remembered how eager Estel had been to go on their first ride, how desperate he was to go to Mirkwood…

"Friends? Really?" Estel whispered.

"Friends." Legolas repeated.

Estel paused a moment. "Best friends?" he asked tentatively.

Legolas smiled softly. He always considered Elladan and Elrohir his best friends, but…

"Yes, Estel," he said softly. "Best friends."

The prince felt his heart twist when he remembered his words. He knew how much a friend, especially a best friend, meant. He remembered when he was a young elfling and was too shy to make friends and how it had meant so much when Elladan and Elrohir had became his best friends. The few times they had gotten into fights it had been horrible.

And now he was leaving Estel forever, after promising he'd be his best friend.

But would a best friend allow you to get hurt?

'Estel is so young!'

'All the more reason that he needs you.'

'He doesn't need me…does he? I let this happen!'

'Did you?'

'Well, yes…'

'How?'

Legolas suddenly realized that he didn't know how he'd let this happen.

'There was no way of knowing what Roneinen would do!'

'True…'

'Why am I talking to myself?'

'Why not?'

'I never have before…'

'That's not my fault.'

'But you are me!'

'Am I?'

Legolas stopped walking abruptly, standing motionless in the empty plain. All was dark, the camp was now out of sight.

'What's happening to me?'

Nothing. Just silence.

Legolas let out a sigh of relief. Hearing voices was never a good sign.

'You didn't tell Lord Elrond about the poison…'

There it was again!

'Why didn't you?'

'There's plenty enough for everyone to worry about with Estel without adding me into the situation…'

'Are you sure your intoxication will not affect anyone else?'

'How could it? It's inside me, it can't harm anyone.'

'Are you positive, my prince?'

The eerie voice faded away and Legolas shuddered at its words. It was only his mind, after all. Just a double-sided conversation with himself…

'Like a double-sided conversation with one's self is normal…'

'I must find Roneinen!' he reminded himself. After all, he didn't feel sick. Maybe the poison would just gradually disappear? If it had lasted dormant for so many months, it couldn't possibly be something to be worried about.

But the voice resounded in his head: 'Are you positive?'

Was he positive?

Legolas began to feel dizzy just thinking about the poison. Trying to get his thoughts off of it, he focused on the dim horizon and continued walking, the sliver of the moon just barely lighting his way as he ran. He could still see well with his keen elven eyes, but at least some illumination was a great help.

After about a half an hour, the prince could hear the lapping of water against a riverbank and knew he was reaching the river he needed to cross. He dearly hoped that his suspicion was correct and Roneinen had gone this way, or else it would be impossibly hard to find him again. Or better yet, he hoped that Elladan and Elrohir had found him by now.

Legolas suddenly felt a pang in his chest and stopped walking, his good hand flying instinctively to where it stung. But it hadn't really hurt, he realized, it was more of a horrible foreboding feeling, a painful shot of nervousness.

Is something wrong with the twins?

He broke into a quick sprint, praying that nothing had happened…

The sun was setting and Elladan and Elrohir had just reached the tributary that Legolas had told them of. They had not spoken the whole ride, their thoughts only on Estel's condition and revenge towards this 'Roneinen'.

The river was not as wide as the Anduin, but raging with rapids all the same.

"Our horses cannot cross this." Elrohir said solemnly.

"True. We have to either swim across or look for a bridge. I am not sure, however, if there are any, and it would also take a lot of time." Elladan responded.

"Time that we don't have," Elrohir agreed, slipping off of his mount.

Ten minutes later, Elladan was untying the rope he had thrown across the river to assist their crossing while his twin was cursing under his breath about how much he hated being wet.

Elladan smirked dryly at his brother. "It's not that bad, 'Ro," he reassured half-heartedly, wringing out his long dark hair.

Elrohir just slung his bow and pack over his shoulders, muttering about 'bloody wet food' and other words Elladan was sure that their father would not appreciate hearing spoken.

"Let's just go already," the younger twin sighed, continuing walking north.

Elladan nodded and signaled once more to their steeds on the other side to stay there before catching up with his brother.

"Estel will be fine and we will find Roneinen soon," the older twin told his brother kindly.

Elrohir smiled slightly, not totally believing it, but taking comfort in his twin's optimism.

"Tell me again, 'Dan," Elrohir said sarcastically as they continued walking. The sky was dark and they'd been walking for three hours. "What did you say about finding Roneinen soon?"

"Be quiet, 'Ro," Elladan hissed coldly.

Elrohir stopped walking in surprise. "Is something wrong, brother?" he asked softly.

"Is something wrong?" Elladan exclaimed, whirling around, letting his packs fall to the ground in exasperation. "Do you think something' wrong, Elrohir? Some elf kidnapped and beat our little brother and we don't know how hurt he is, we can't find that elf, and you want to know if something is wrong? Valar, Elrohir!"

The younger twin cringed at his brother's words. "What about how confident you were a few hours ago, 'Dan?" he asked quietly. "What about what you said about Estel being fine?"

"I was just trying to make you feel better," Elladan admitted flatly. "It doesn't mean I meant it."

"But I was a little worried and nervous, that was all. Not like you are now…"

"Should I not be upset?" Elladan shouted. "Estel almost died with the orcs, and now this? At this rate, he'll be dead next month!"

"Don't say that, 'Dan!"

Tears were brimming in Elladan's eyes. "What if he does die? What if he leaves, like…like…"

"Like Naneth?" Elrohir whispered, draping a comforting arm around his brother. "That won't happen."

Elladan closed his eyes. "But we were too late for her…"

"But we won't be for Estel. We need to find Roneinen, though, which we're not going to accomplish by standing here."

The older twin nodded softly and reached down to pick up his packs. Then he froze in horror.

Elrohir mirrored his look of terror, staring off in the distance. They couldn't yet see them, but he could feel that they were coming…

"Orcs!" they exclaimed.

Legolas reached the river, knowing that his friend's had crossed it when he saw their tall grey horses patiently standing there.

He frowned once he realized that he had no pack, which meant no rope, which meant swimming across would be difficult.

But when he thought about not having a pack, he also realized something much more important…

He had no weapons.

Elrohir dropped his bags, as his brother had, and they instantly broke into a run for the other direction.

"How many do you think there are?" Elladan asked as they ran.

"A lot," Elrohir replied. "Over thirty, at least,"

Elladan nodded. There was no reason to fight them unless forced to, being so outnumbered.

But after about fifteen minutes, they stopped instantly.

Elladan swore loudly, fingering his sword, glancing at his brother.

The orcs were coming from the west and north also.

There was no escape.

Legolas pulled himself out of the water, gasping sharply. It was unnatural for him to be so exhausted after doing something physically strenuous. Also, his arm that had been cut and was connected to his broken wrist burned painfully.

'Poison makes you weak,' the voice reminded, but he ignored it and continued walking.

He suddenly felt a dangerous chill.

Orcs.

They were far off in the distance, no worry to him…

But Elladan and Elrohir were out there.

Alone.

They couldn't go east for Mirkwood, across the Anduin, because there were orcs coming in that direction.

They couldn't go west for the Misty Mountains because there were orcs coming in that direction.

They couldn't go north for more miles across the plains because orcs were coming in that direction.

And there was no time to head back.

"We have the worst luck," Elladan groaned, squinting through the black night sky to see if he could make out the orcs yet.

Elrohir nodded silently as they drew their bows and notched arrows, waiting and standing back-to-back.

"Good luck, brother," Elrohir whispered.

The orcs were appearing now, screaming dark language when they saw the elves and the others of their kind, who they didn't seem to be too friendly with.

"You too." Elladan murmured in response.

They let their arrows fly, instantly bringing down two orcs…

And the fight began.

The brothers charged forward, releasing more arrows as they ran. There were at least forty orcs from each direction, they knew how slim the chances were.

Elladan shot until his quiver was empty and then dropped his bow, drawing his sword and slashing through the wave of deadly creatures. He constantly ducked as blows were aimed left and right at him, stabbing expertly and parrying away the attacks. He couldn't see his brother and felt his heart pound with panic.

Elrohir, too, had lost sight of his twin and had reverted to his blade. In the dark air he could barely see anything but the mass of bodies around him. He just swung his sword wildly, hoping to make some dent in the orcs' seemingly endless swarm.

Fortunately though, the three groups of orcs were also fighting each other, their territorial instincts kicking in. But they did not ignore the fair elves who were desperately trying to defend themselves.

An hour passed but there were no signs of the battle ceasing. The twins were growing tired, each move taking more of a toll on their already exhausted bodies.

Suddenly, a large form plowed into Elrohir, shoving him to the ground and causing him to drop his weapon. Quickly, he rolled out from underneath the now dead body, yelping in surprise and pain as his hands dug into unseen spikes on the ground, part of the armor of a fallen orc. As he stood, he realized frantically that he could no longer hold his sword, not that he could even tell where it was.

He didn't see the stray orc arrow until it hit his shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards in pain. White flecks danced in front of his line of vision and he shook his head desperately to remain awake, looking for some way to defend himself.

Luckily, most of the orcs were ignoring him, fighting each other, but one saw his vulnerability. It was too far away to reach him, but just for fun it aimed his bow and let another arrow fly…

Elrohir couldn't help but scream in anguish as an arrow imbedded itself in his chest. His legs gave way and the young elf hit the ground hard, consciousness instantly slipping away into oblivion.

Elladan felt fear take him when, even over the loud din of orcs, he heard a familiar cry. An odd tingling feeling filled his shoulder and slight pain filled his chest, yet nothing had hit him. He knew instantly that his brother was hurt.

"'Ro?" he called breathlessly as he continued to fight, hoping that his twin would respond to show that at least he was still standing, somewhere. If you fell in battle, there was no knowing what could happen. "ELROHIR!" he screamed in horror, realizing that his sibling was not going to answer.

Before he could tell what had happening, a thick tree branch that an orc had been using for a weapon was hurled into his head with a loud crack and he involuntarily collapsed, unmoving.

It was morning now, and Legolas still had not found Roneinen or the twins. He'd been walking the whole time and the feeling of orcs had stayed with him. It was different now, though… It felt different.

Legolas could tell that the orcs were dead.

But that made him horribly nervous about his friends.

'Please let them be alright, please…'

Then, the rancid stench of blood and death filled him. He sped up and soon saw in the distance that the ground was dark and littered with corpses.

Legolas began running as fast as he could, his eyes widening in alarm when he saw at least fifty orc bodies lying on the ground. Most were covered in gashes and bites from other orcs, but he noticed a few with familiar Rivendell arrows in them.

The twins' arrows.

'This is all my fault! I knew that there were orcs in this area, how could I have forgotten? I never should have let them go after Roneinen alone! What if they're…'

The prince quickly began sprinting across the carcasses, turning them over repeatedly, searching desperately.

After about five minutes, when he rolled over a particularly large dead orc…he froze in disbelief.

"Ell?" he whispered anxiously, dread enveloping him, dropping to his knees.

The twin was laying lifelessly, his dark hair covering most of his face, his eyes tightly closed, his clothes torn and bloodstained. Crimson covered the side of his head where the skull had been cracked. He was not moving at all.

"Oh, Valar, no…" Legolas cried, gently laying his hands on the unresponsive body of his beloved friend. "Ell, no…please, no…"

TBC!!