Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine. Unfortunately.


Two and One
By Iridia

Chapter 3

Elrond woke with a start; a shrill cry had pierced the night; a familiar voice cut straight to the elf-lord's bones. He bolted upright, a knife appearing in his hand; next to him, Celebrian had already vaulted out of bed. He followed her out the door and to the elflings' bedchamber.

What he saw there, he could hardly believe; but Elrond's war-honed senses stood him in good stead, analyzing the situation quickly and completely even as the part of him that was a father to his children still stumbled in disbelief.

There was the woman, the one who had looked so familiar; there was Elladan, half-upright in bed. The boy's scream of pain choked in his throat as the woman, a horrible look of bestial rage on her face, plunged a knife through an already-bloody sheet.

Elrond would have run forward to protect his son if it had not been for the woman's animal reflexes. In a second, she had the knife to Elladan's throat, and her other hand around a handful of the young elf's raven-black hair, lifting his head and shoulders brutally off the pillow.

Elladan, completely awake now, had become aware of what was going on; his face was white, but his gaze was steady.

"Move," Mara hissed, "and he's dead."

"But... why?" Elrond could only say.

"I want you to suffer as I suffered," Mara said. "I want you to feel the pain of losing your child. You did not prevent my Callie's death; it is only fair that you feel the death of your own son."

Then Elrond recognized her; and he remembered the battle, ten years past; and the tiny town, decimated by an orc attack before the arrival of the patrol that finally managed to lead the orcs away from their prey. Mara was older, now, and harder; and the light of madness in her eyes spoke of grief long suppressed.

"We could not prevent it... please believe me, Mara; we tried. I would have gladly given my own life to save your daughter."

Elladan could sense that the woman who held a knife to his throat did not believe his father; she was beyond believing in anything good, anything beautiful. Past all logic, the young elfling wanted, somehow, to comfort this woman, this poor, deranged creature who knew no hope. The horrible, painful heaviness in his chest did not allow him to speak much; but he managed it.

"I am sorry Callie died," he whispered. "Father says that Men who die are safe in Eru's hands." Elrond was trying to quiet him, but Elladan ignored his father. "I think Callie is happy," he said, "and I think she wants you to be happy."

A drop of blood stained the corner of his mouth, and he gasped for breath.

A high, keening scream pierced the air; it began deep in Mara's throat, and filled the room. Her hand shook. The part of Mara, long-buried, the part that remembered hope, could only stare in horror at what she had done... But the new, strong, fierce Mara, the woman who held the knife, would not permit her to take control. One part of Mara wanted to kill... the other part wanted to die.

As Mara struggled within herself, the weapon trembled, as though unsure whether to drop to the ground or cut into the tender skin of the young elfling. Finally, Mara's eyes hardened; and it was obvious who had won the battle. She gripped the knife firmly once again; the muscles in her forearm tensed as she prepared to cut Elladan's throat.

Elrohir, too, had heard his brother's cry, though he hardly needed it; for all his other senses screamed through their twins' bond that his brother was in danger. His chest burning with an odd, sharp pain, he ran swiftly back to their bedroom.

As he turned the corner, he slowed and walked silently towards the door. He saw his parents skidding up to the door; heard Mara's threat. His heart leaped up into his throat; but he fought off the fear. He had to help his brother!

Ducking silently into the next room, which served as the twins' playroom, he brought out his small bow and arrows. So silently did Elrohir approach the doorway, and so loud was Mara's scream, that no one heard the elfling approach.

Elrohir took a shuddering breath at the sight of Mara and his brother; then, ruthlessly banishing his fear and shock, he planted his feet in the proper stance and put an arrow to the string.

Carefully, the elfling pulled the bowstring back, just the way he had taught Elladan; and when he released it, the arrow, with a soft "twang", flew between his parents and into the room. It imbedded itself in Mara's chest.

The woman shuddered, fell to her knees, and collapsed half on the bed, half off it.

In the confusion, no one but Elladan saw that, as she took her last breath, she said a single word: "Callie?"

And, as he heard that word, Elladan's world went black.

Elrond rushed to his son's side. Elladan's head had dropped to the pillow; but he found that his son was still breathing--barely. The blood that had stained his lips was now running down the corner of his mouth and onto the pillow.

Someone brought a candle; and Elrond heard himself gasp as he saw the full extent of his tiny son's injuries. There were three punctures in the sheet; three in Elladan's clothing; and three in Elladan himself. One had opened a deep gash in his arm; the other two pierced the right side of the elfling's chest. All three were bleeding profusely.

Celebrian was already running for healing supplies when Elrond demanded them; while he waited for her, he used the sheets to staunch some of the bleeding.

Elrohir's bow clattered on the ground, and he rushed onto the bed, grasping and holding his brother's uninjured hand with a desperate strength. His young face showed deep concentration; and he ignored the dull pain in his own chest and arm, willing his brother to live.

"Lord Elrond, shall I take the other young one?" the guard holding the candle inquired. Desperation flickered across Elrohir's face at that; but he could not break his concentration for a second to protest.

"No," Elrond said shortly. "Let him stay."

Through Vilya, Elrond could sense the twins' bond; and, though he would not normally have let Elrohir witness a scene like this, separating the twins now would likely kill Elladan.

If he were not already dying.

TBC...

REVIEWS:
Legolas's Garden Light: I hardly ever write about the young twins... this is my first such attempt. But I may write more; they're such engaging characters!

Anorwen: Hmm... well, that's one way to make a boring class more exciting! To tell the truth... I actually wrote half the last chapter of this story (which I shall soon post) in Meteorology class. And if my prof sees this... uhm, it's not me! hides

Viresse: Y'know, it's people like you who make me want to keep writing... you leave long reviews that tell me what you think about the story. Mara... yes; I feel sorry for her, too. I originally just created her as a reason to have Elrohir fight his first "battle", but she took on a life of her own, until the story is as much about her as about the twins. I remember being a child of the twins' age, and it's really amazing how much children can do, given the chance--not just elf-children, but human kids as well. We don't give them nearly enough credit.

Tinkerbell: Read the next part to find out what happens. :)