AN: Really, really sorry for using film-elvish. But it was the best I had on the spur of the moment. And it fits. Someone yell at me if it's the wrong language or something.
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AN2: Last story I had ambivalence, this time round I have disappointment. Just can't satisfy some people. Disappointment, if you come back? There's a big message for you at the bottom.
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Legolas' eyes stared absently up into the canopy, the green light reflected there turning them aquamarine. He lay there in only his leggings, his chest revealed in its bloody glory. His eyes were first drawn to what had to have been the killing blow - a wound in his chest, almost hidden by the sheer amount of blood, which had already stopped bleeding at the ceasing of his heartbeat. Blood had flowed deep red from the wound across his side to merge with thick long lash marks that curled around from his back. His lip was split wide and deep - as if someone had taken a knife to it - and this wound too had bled extensively, but no more. His leggings seemed drenched in blood, and this brought fear to his heart as to what other wounds he might find if he searched further. He turned his back to try and re-gather his thoughts and calm his breathing a little.
Turning again, he kneeled at his side. Habit led his fingers to Legolas' throat, and he flinched away from the coldness of his skin. Gentle fingers closed sightless eyes and he sat back, stunned.
It was wrong. He was an elf, immortal. No death should touch him on all of Arda. No ending save when he chose to take a ship west.
Tears welled and a harsh sob gathered in his chest, all of his grief in one noise of true pain. What future for his brothers now, when their love lay broken upon the ground, no more for their bed, no more for their arms?
"Estel? What is it, what have you found" A faint voice from across the clearing wavered across to him. Hoping that Elladan had regained his hearing and had heard his cry he stumbled back to the others, casting grieved looks over his shoulder. He quickly realised, though, that it wasn't Elladan that had voiced the question.
"Elrohir" He asked, near hysterical laughter bubbling up in his chest as he realised that the younger twin's eyes were focused upon his face.
"Estel, it is you."
"You hear me? You see me"
"Yes, though I know not why… I think perhaps we were all effected differently by the… by whatever that was."
"Tell me, please Elrohir, tell me what happened."
"When I returned to consciousness I could not see, hear, move nor feel another's touch. It was complete isolation in the worst way. My hearing returned in only a little time, my sight shortly afterwards and feeling returns in my feet even now. It seems Elladan's senses are returning differently." Elrohir's eyes slid across to Elladan who still knelt before him with both his twin's hands encased in his own.
"What happened to you Elrohir? How came you to be here, so far south and in such a state."
"First I would know what you see over there that caused you such distress. Elladan started this journey carrying Legolas and I couldn't see if he was… I couldn't see if he was alright."
"It is him, and another elf over there. I do not recognise the other and he looks perfectly peaceful, though there is no life in him. I see no one wound that might have killed him."
"Baranir…" Elrohir sighed. "It was grief. He could not stop his own tears and it took all of his strength simply to stand with me in his arms and keep walking. Grief has taken him; and Legolas will follow soon, I fear, for he shared in their torture."
"No. Legolas bares a wound that…that was his end. His passing was quicker." He forced this bitter reality though his lips. Aragorn couldn't be sure, but he could not let Elrohir think he had suffered such a slow death.
"He is… he is dead then" Elrohir bit back a sob. "He took the brunt of his men's torture. He has yet to understand that it hurts most of us more to see him treated in such a way than to bear it ourselves. He takes it upon himself to save us and they readily comply, for they see what it does to us. Legolas and the four that accompanied him were in the captivity of the orcs for days before we arrived." He was close to hysterical, and Aragorn grasped his hands to offer some support. Silent tears traced lines of sorrow down Elrohir's face. "Why is it always the young ones, Estel? Not one of them over 1000. They were too young to suffer so."
"No one is old enough to endure such suffering."
"We were there two days. They made us listen to them scream during the nights."
"Elrohir…" His reassurance stumbled to nothing as his mind faltered back to the blood on Legolas' leggings. The blood on the other's… His eyes flickered without command, first to Elrohir's leggings and then to Elladan's. Elrohir caught his glance.
"They didn't touch us, Estel. At least… not that way. It is perhaps the only reason you do not find us already with Legolas and his company." A harsh shudder rippled through Elrohir, followed soon after by Elladan, as though their souls were shuddering in unison at the thought, though Elladan had not heard his words.
"Brother" Elladan spoke. "Are you well, are you awake" Elladan's seeking hands found Elrohir's face, and a brush of his lips was enough to answer his question. Tears returned to Elrohir as he glanced towards the other two elves in the clearing, now knowing for sure what his heart had suspected. "Why such heart's-tears, 'Ro? Who are these for" Elladan couldn't fail to notice the dampness spreading beneath his fingers.
"Aragorn? You have to tell him, show him… find some way." Stifling the sting of tears and nodding his consent to Elrohir, Aragorn took Elladan's hands and pulled him away from Elrohir, taking him across the clearing. He guided his hand out to Legolas' face, holding it as he flinched away from the touch of cold skin.
"Estel? What is this?" His hand was taken further, into his hair, into fine woven plaits that declared loyalty and status. Plaits that would have given him away to the orcs had they known how to read them. Absently Elrohir wondered - as he watched his brother explore that face, so familiar to them, and as yet unrecognised - if his fate would have been any different had they known who he was. Perhaps they would have killed him any way, out of spite for his king and his realm. Would that have been better than the torture he had endured? Perhaps. Damn the hard-headed woodelves. Elrohir could pinpoint the very moment realisation come to Elladan, his face crumpling and tears falling almost immediately.
"No." A whisper. A denial.
"I'm sorry." Aragorn replied, flinching as he realised that his apology was worthless, hating the roughness that impending tears brought to his voice. Elladan would not have heard it anyway. Slowly he led Elladan back over to Elrohir, away from their source of their sorrow. As soon as the twins were back in contact they were wrapped around each other, and it seemed to Aragorn that at least a little of the movement had belonged to Elrohir. Perhaps there was still hope... He choked back the tears that had begun to fall without his leave, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself.
"We must move away from… this place." He coughed to cover up the hitch in his words. "I… I will bury Legolas and Bar"
"No! You cannot" Elrohir exclaimed, looking up from Elladan's shoulder. "How could you think of such a thing? We must take them with us."
"Elrohir, I can only carry so many. They are lost to us, gwador, there is nothing more we can do for them." He pleaded.
"Yes there is! We can give them the respect they deserve! It is Legolas, Estel. We cannot leave him to the orcs and spiders. Put them on Cúdîn, Elladan can carry me still. Let us take them home."
"Very well." Aragorn conceded, sensing the grief and hopelessness in Elrohir's voice. "But I must carry you, for your wound will better heal if it is not jarred, and Elladan cannot promise light-footedness today."
"My thanks." And then the tears began, and there was nothing more to say.
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It felt a little more than disrespectful, to have the bodies of two brave warriors cast over the saddle like some war trophy, but Aragorn turned his eyes, knowing that this was the only way if they wished to take them back to their home.
"Hiro hyn
hîdh ab wanath." He muttered to himself (being 'May they
find peace in death') in apology for his treatment of their remains
upon Middle Earth. Thanking Cúdîn for performing this
grisly task with a pat, Aragorn turned his attentions to the twins,
and his next problem.
He knew Elladan would need guiding,
and Elrohir would need carrying, and he would have liked to have a
hand free to steady Cúdîn's load. But he simply did not
have enough hands. Taking Elrohir from Elladan, he grasped Elladan's
hand and placed it on his shoulder firmly, his message clear. Then he
bent down to scoop up Elrohir into his arms. Trusting that Cúdîn
would follow, Aragorn moved off North, back towards the track out of
the forest.
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It was only a short time later, the day beginning to fade from the rare glimpses of sky, when Aragorn stopped in horrified silence, swaying as Elladan didn't stop in time and bumped into the back of him.
"Estel? What is it?" Elrohir asked groggily, unable to see much save the canopy from where he was laid, like a babe in his arms.
"Elves." He whispered, choked. "Three of them. One an elleth, the other two…" His voice broke for a moment, unable to find words to describe the horror that sat before him. "They have died in each other's arms, like lovers."
"Turith, Daefindir and Elanor. Then we are complete, and the shadow of Mirkwood has truly taken the whole."
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Trunk-kun: Thanks soooo much for the reviews
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anonymous… um… too late.
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Pellawethiel: Thanks for the review, that's why I love angsty stories. This one has kind of gone off the tracks though…
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Blaise: Hehehe… sorry! This story has definitely taken a turn I didn't expect, and I'm not completely sure it was all reviewer-caused. I was having problems making the second half less like Orc, and this seemed an appropriate solution.
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drew's girl: Well this certainly tells you what happened to him -s please don't hate me!
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disappointed: I know you've said you won't be coming back, but just in case… I am sticking to my own reasoning here. The story fits the maps. You're just not reading it right. "He let his long legs guide him along the long paths of the valley on his way North to the Old Ford. There he could cross the Anduin and then head East over the Misty Mountains once more, and into home." OK? So Aragorn has come FROM the south (say the Gladden fields) for some reason or another, and is travelling north between Mirkwood and the River Anduin. He plans to cross the Great River at the Old Ford (do you have your map out?) and then follow the High Pass over the Misty Mountains back into Rivendell. He couldn't take the Redhorn Pass, as this will be more treacherous in summer as the snow will be melting and unstable.
Soooo… I would really appreciate it, if I could ever convince you to come back, if you would tell me exactly what piece of this is wrong, so that I may fix it, as apposed to just telling me I'm a moron and leaving it at that. That achieves NOTHING. Thanks.
