Chapter Three

Following a Feeling

It took the little elfling and youngest son of Lord Elrond, about two hours, to climb the hill leaving Imladris. His little feet would not let him travel any faster, especially with the large sack he carried slung over his shoulder. When he reached the top of the hill leading to the dirt path, he sat down on a boulder, and glanced around him nervously. It had already turned dark, and his eyes were not trained to see that well yet. He shivered, and opened the pack, to retrieve the small cloak he had folded neatly for himself. He clasped it around him and stood up, to continue his own search of his brother. He knew that Elladan was no longer in Imladris, and that his brother was hurt. Elrohir also knew that he was the only one who could find him before something terrible happened.

Slowly he turned and walked down the marked path leading to the ford, but stopped thinking furiously to himself. 'Ford?' Is that what it was called? The great river that protected Imladris from the world around them, from the dark forces of, who?

He shook his head angrily; he could not remember what the teachers had said about the histories. He preceded walking again still thinking about the world around him. He was anxious to travel, but he was also frightened. He had never been far from his parents, but more importantly, he had never been away from his twin longer then a night of sleep. Most times, however, their father found them curled up in one bed or another a limb or hand always touching, fast asleep.

Suddenly he jumped up clapping his hands together excitedly. "Loud Water." He cried. He could hear it in the distance, the loud crashing of water against the rocks and cliffs. He pursed his lips and broke into a run. To him it was fast, but to anyone seeing the little elfling, is was a slow trot. His shoulder pack slapped against his back, and his little feet carried him to the cliff above the great river of the Bruinen. Smiling, satisfied that he had found his way to the boarders of his fathers lands without help from the elders he quickly descended the side of the cliffs with the ease of a youth. Once beside the rushing water, he stood there looking around him, trying to find someway across that would be safe for him.


He was tossed from the shoulder, to the ground in a heap, and he felt the air leave his lungs in a great whoosh of air. He lay on the packed earth trying to fill his lungs again. He felt a hand grab his hair and pull his head up. Frightened, he remained motionless. He felt the hands work at the knot at the back of his head, taking off the gag in his mouth. He sucked in his breath taking in as much air as his small lungs could muster. He felt something held up to his mouth and pour into his mouth, but not sure as to what it was he spat it out, not knowing whether or not it hit the monster that knelt before him.

His head was pulled back hard, and he gasped. He heard a loud voice that he could not understand, and shivered. He felt the liquid pour down his throat, but this time he was not able to spit it out. He felt the moisture slip down his small throat and make it's way into his stomach. He shuddered, but realized that it was only water that had been fed to him.

He felt the hard calloused hands reach behind his head again and untie the blindfold that had prevented him from seeing his surroundings. He closed his eyes tightly, afraid to look up, afraid to see the monsters who had taken him from his bed, and out of his homelands. The voice spoke again, harsh and full of command, and Elladan slowly opened his eyes. When his grey eyes cleared from the fog of being bound so long, his eyes beheld the figure before him, and he opened his mouth and let out a piercing cry that echoed through the forests, and lifted into the whirling wind.


Elrohir dropped to his knees in shock, and clutched his hands to his chest. The pain and fear that entered his soul froze him in place, and caused him to shudder unrepentantly. He felt his whole body convulse and he curled up into a ball, calling out his twins name in a way that would stop a heart beat momentarily.

He laid there on the rock surface at the riverbed, and did not notice the approach of horses in the distance.

The sight that greeted him was one he would remember for the rest of his life. Glorfindel gasped allowed as he saw the Lord's son lying on the rocks as if he were in pain. He jumped from his horse and raced over to the small form huddled in a tight ball. The first thing he did was search for a heart beat, and once found one; he lifted the small form into his arms, cradling it gently. He had walked half way to his horse, before he noticed that the elfling was lost in a fea battle. He felt his eyes widen at the sight of such a small elf child having eyes open and glazed over, lost in a world that was still unknown to them. He shivered and mounted his horse, galloping towards Imladris.

Glorfindel entered the gates calling for Elrond as he dismounted carrying the small form. But he stopped when Elrohir struggled within his arms, trying to fight the demons in his dreams.

"Ella!" The small-lost voice whimpered. Glorfindel shook his head and closed his eyes. Slowly he wandered up the stairs entering the Lord's house. Elrohir had stopped his struggles and blinked confused.

"Orfinel?" He whispered.

"Shush, little one, you are safe." He smiled at the twins nickname for him.

"No, Ella, not. He hurts. Scared." Elrohir wiped his eyes.

"I know, I am sure you are also."

Elrohir nodded uncertainly. "He not here. Outside."

Glorfindel nodded again. "I know, we have lots of guards looking for Elladan. Fear not we will find him."

Elrohir frowned, and his eyes became distant for a moment, his face screwed up in concentration. He reached up a small hand and fingered Glorfindel's ear, causing him to shiver at the contact. "Not pointed." He whispered.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Ella, not with pointed ears." Elrohir moaned. "Round, big round ears."

Glorfindel breathed a curse, and called out again for Elrond, but was only met in the halls by the healer Dyrenturah. "Where is Elrond?"

"He left to head out the hunt for his son."

"Sweet Eru!" Glorfindel cursed. "Take Elrohir, I must find him."

However Elrohir had other plans. "NO!" he cried. "I come. Help find Ella!" He glared at the blonde haired elf Lord.

"No, Elrohir, it is too dangerous." Glorfindel placed the young elf in the healer's arms despite his struggles.

"I know where he is!" He shouted causing Glorfindel to turn surprised.

"Where?"

Elrohir crossed his arms, and shook his head. "I come!"

The elf Lord narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Elrohir-" He warned. He was unable to finish his sentence because Elrohir suddenly clutched his stomach as though he were in pain and fell to the ground in an unconscious heap. With a startled cry, Glorfindel sprang forward and picked the small elfling up, racing to the healers rooms, with the healer not far behind.


The only sound had anyone been listening for it, was the small whimpers of the captured elf. Not even his abductors caught the small whispered plea, which the elder twin hissed into the wind.

"Rohir."

Silver tears ran down the small face unnoticed by anyone, as the older twin broke his link with his brother. Leaving behind nothing but the chill in his heart, and that of one far off.