Title: Delw yomenie (Deadly encounter)
Characters: All Peredhils, mainly Strider, Legolas……and something/someone deadly….
Timeline: Before FOTR
Rating: T
Warnings: Cruelty and maniacal behaviour. WIP.
Summery: Our Middle-Earth friends encounter something deadly…..
Feedback: YES! Please! looking-like-little-Estel-when-he-wants-something.
A/N: Many thanks to Trinilee for her fast beta work. Thank you! ;-)
Chapter 10 – Escape?
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Disclaimer: I own nothing of the works of Tolkien. Neither books, nor movies. I just borrow them and try to give them back in one piece later. I make no money with this story. Please, do not sue me.
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The fire was pleasantly warming his legs and his whole body reached a warmth Estel had not felt in days. Taran was sitting in his lap, playing with some sticks he had found on the ground and babbling joyfully.
Estel was half dozing, half fully sleeping beside the fireside. His eyes were half lidded and he appeared to be resting peacefully. Behind this masquerade, Estel kept watch on all the hunters that walked around in the camp. The whole day he had waited, waited for his chance of escape.
Now, as the sun stood low in the sky, a few hours before sunset, most of the guards were slightly dozing and the other hunters were not paying any attention to him. When he was first brought out into the open, the hunters had watched him carefully, never letting him out of their sight, making sure that he did not attempt anything.
He had not. He had sat near the fire, warming his hands and limbs, holding the little boy close and enjoying the warmth. Not once had he risen or made one false move. Nothing at all that could indicate that he had something planned.
Now, as the shadows grew longer and the hunters more tired, the time had come. Estel knew that he could not wait until the night came, because he was sure that Dagnir had planned on tying him to that tent post again. If he wanted to try anything, he would have to do it soon.
His best chance of flight presented itself almost an hour before dusk. The guard that patrolled the outer rim of the camp had gone into the bushes a moment prior and Bauglir and Dagnir were no where in sight. It seemed perfect.
Slowly, Estel bent down to Taran. He had to tell the boy to be quiet and not give him away. It was a crucial point and Estel knew that parting with the charming adan would not be easy.
"Penneth, lasto anim (Little one, listen to me). Don't be afraid. No one will harm you, but I have to leave you for a little while."
It was as if the child understood every word. His eyes turned to the ranger and they filled with shining tears as Taran sniffed softly. His heart went out to the boy, but Estel took a deep breath. "Ahh, Taran. All will be well. I promise. I will come and fetch you. I promise, little one. But, saes penneth (please, little one), be quiet. Urin nallon (do not cry). Sh, don't cry. I have to go to get help. Do you understand?"
Big eyes stared at the ranger. Another small sob, followed by a sniffle was the only answer Estel got, but he could wait no longer. He placed the child before him on the ground, stroking the cheek softly with his thumb as he did so. After giving the boy a last reassuring smile and receiving another sad and tearful sniffle from Taran, Estel breathed deeply and then, after making sure that no one looked his way, the ranger crouched down low and sneaked to the edge of the forest.
His heart beat heavy in his chest and his lungs worked slightly faster than usual. The blood that was pumping so fast through his veins made his head spin a little and his own footsteps sounded loud in his ears. His breath was still steady and measured, although his throat was itchy and he feared he would have a coughing fit any minute now.
Despite all odds, Estel made it into the forest undetected. No one had heard him, neither had anyone seen him. The camp lay quiet and still behind him; nothing stirred. When Estel felt the trees surround him and the shadows give him cover, he stopped and turned around to look at the camp.
When his eyes found the fire he had been sitting before, he nearly turned back. The sight hurt his heart and made him wish for another solution. It was painful to turn away from the scene and to head out into the forest.
Taran was sitting near the fire, tears streaming down his handsome face, eyes big and blue in their sadness. When Estel had watched him, he had turned his head in the ranger's direction, facing him, his bottom lip shoved over the upper lip and crying silently. He had not screamed; Taran was not giving him away, although it obviously broke the little one's heart to let the ranger, his protector, go.
Vowing to come back and rescue the child, Estel vanished into the green foliage around him and was gone.
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A loud and alarmed yell sounded in the camp, shattering the stillness and arousing all the hunters. It was obvious what had happened, the ranger was gone. He had escaped, leaving the child behind.
No one knew how long the man had been gone, but it did not matter. In moments, Dagnir had set up a group of his best hunters to find their prey and bring it back. He could not let the ranger flee; he was too precious for the captain to loose.
So, only a short moment after the ranger's own departure, five hunters sped into the darkening forest to hunt.
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Estel heard a loud scream coming from the direction of the camp he had left only a few minutes before. The men must have discovered his absence and were now surely following his tracks.
Quickening his steps, the ranger burst through another tangle of bushes and through the trees. His heart was hammering in his chest and his lungs already screamed for air. Gasping and jumping over a fallen log, Estel soon noticed that his lungs were not functioning as well as they normally did.
Every breath he took burned in his throat and his chest felt constricted and compressed. He knew that he had to find shelter; it was impossible for him to outrun his pursuers as he would have normally done.
Looking left and right, dodging branches and vines, struggling over dead trees and crunching leaves under his feet, Estel ran and searched for a place to hide, something that would give him shelter.
His eyes found nothing and soon he heard the sound of his pursuers behind him, coming nearer and nearer as he ran through the approaching darkness. Cursing under his breath, Estel quickened his steps once more. This was his only chance of escape, his only chance to free himself and help the child. It was now or never.
With his heart racing in his chest and his lungs breathing liquid fire, the ranger flew over the forest floor and into the woods.
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"Elladan, did you hear that?" Elrohir was whispering to his twin. He had stopped in his tracks, his head tilted to one side, listening carefully. He was sure that he had heard a sound, something or someone running through the woods.
Elladan took a long look around and then, frowning slightly, nodded. Aye, whatever it was, it was nearing their position. The two elves shared a meaningful look, then both dived into the underbrush, took their bows from their shoulders, notched an arrow, and waited.
They did not have to wait long.
But what met their eyes when they finally glanced the source making the noise, both were stunned and for a very short moment, paralysed. They had not been prepared for the sight that met their eyes.
There, only a few feet away, separated from them only by the short stream and some low bushes, was their little brother, running as if Sauron himself was on his heels, his dark hair trailing behind him and his feet causing unnaturally loud sounds on the cold forest floor.
Estel had almost sped past them, when Elladan and Elrohir both stepped out of the bushes, their weapons lowered. "Estel!"
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The little run had exhausted him already and he was now more than sure that he was indeed ill. He was a ranger and since his childhood he had been able to run long distances without getting as tired as he was now. It was just not normal.
His legs hurt and he felt dizzy. The trees were swimming slightly before his eyes and sometime he had the feeling that they were blocking his way on purpose. A few moments ago he had jumped over a small boulder; more accurately, he had tried to.
His foot had caught on the stone and only sheer luck had prevented him from falling flat on his face. His instincts told him that the hunters were not far behind him and although he could not hear them, he was sure that the distance between them thinned rapidly.
He was running beside the small stream when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Something or someone was standing in the low underbrush. The next second, Estel heard someone call his name. Moving his head in the direction while he ran, he saw his two brothers standing there, bows lowered, wearing utterly perplexed, but at the same time relieved expressions.
This expression changed, however, almost the same second, as Estel, not stopping in his steps and not paying attention to where he went, collided with a low hanging branch, scraping his forehead and crashing to the floor, lying there, unmoving, all air pressed out of his lungs as his body had hit the ground hard.
Two yells filled the air and soon the twins knelt by their brother and turned him onto his back, feeling his pulse and searching for signs of injury.
"Estel, pedo, saes! (Estel, speak, please!). Estel!" Elrohir's voice sounded alarmed and he had begun to shake his brother slightly to wake him, although Estel was not even unconscious. It seemed the younger twin was so relieved to see his little brother alive that he completely ignored that he was, partially, unharmed.
"'m, 'lright, Elrohir. Stop shakin' me." Estel felt his brother's hands stop immediately and when his head stopped whirling in circles, he opened his eyes. Two pairs of deer brown eyes, deep as the sea and worried as only brothers could be, looked down on him. Before either Elladan or Elrohir could utter another word, Estel righted himself and got to his feet; which was more difficult than he liked to admit.
Risking a glance over his shoulder at the way he had come, the ranger said: "We have to hurry, they will be here soon." Looking confused, the older twin asked: "Who will be here soon, the men that took you?"
There was no need for Estel to answer, as in the same moment he opened his mouth to respond, the green foliage behind the three Peredhels parted, spitting out three very angry looking hunters, swords in hand, and ready to use them.
The two skilled elves rushed to stand before their human brother to protect him with their own bodies. Elladan drew back the string on his bow, aiming at the hunters, his brother doing the same. It was three armed men against two armed elves. It would be easy for Elladan and Elrohir to take down the humans.
The men did not seem frightened, nor willing to surrender. They did not move forward, towards their prey, but neither did they back away. They glared at the elves, eying them from head to toe, then, as if on a silent command, they began to shout at them.
Curses flew from their mouths as well as threats and louder and louder the humans became, until they had scared all animals in a wide range and caused the birds to quieten.
Frowning, the twins stood their ground, unmoving, following each of the men with their eyes and the tips of their bows. What were these humans doing? Elladan thought. Did these men think that an elf would flee because of some curses? And honestly, Elladan himself had heard worse curses come from himself or his brothers or Legolas. What was this all about?
Similar thoughts were running through his twin brother's head. When the shouting and screaming did not end and instead turned louder, when the men started to sidestep and to move into different directions, Elrohir came to the conclusion that the hunters were trying to distract them, so that they were able to single the elves out or to cordon them off.
Suddenly, a painful scream filled the air, hovering over the scene and quieten the hunters immediately. Both elves spun on their heels and what they saw made their blood run cold. With a shocking clarity they discovered that, indeed, the hunters had wanted to distract them, but not to cordon them or to single them out.
There, lying on the cold forest floor a few feet before them, lay their little brother, a black arrow sticking out of his leg, his breeches already turned red from his blood. Between the dark trees stood a man with a crossbow and above the ranger towered a dark haired man, a wicked grin on his face and a shining broadsword in his strong hand. It was a man the twins had seen before; in Imladris, together with the white haired one.
Silence spread over the scene, and when the tip of the sword grazed over Estel's neck, both elves knew that they had failed.
Not only had they not been able to help their brother, but they had now given the hunters two more hostages.
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The walk back to the camp had been agonizing painful and incredibly long. When the camp finally came into view, Estel felt exhausted and to his great shame, almost relieved. The camp meant a place to sit down, to take the weight from his injured leg and to lie down.
As soon as the twins had lowered their bows, the hunters had searched them for other weapons and finding a lot of them, they had searched the twin's packs too, making sure that they contained no further knives or daggers. After tying the hands of the elves behind their backs, the hunters had pushed them wordlessly in the direction of the camp.
Of course, the elves had resisted, not wanting to leave without their little brother and not without making sure that he was all right. Bauglir, seeing this, had only sheathed his sword, smiled gleefully at the twins, and had then kicked Estel with such a force at his wounded leg that the ranger had cried out in pure agony, closing his eyes tightly and rolling over onto his side.
Enraged, Elladan had started forward, towards Bauglir, ignoring the hands that tried to hold him. Elrohir had watched, he himself securely gripped by two of the hunters, how his twin had started in the direction of their brother.
The dark haired man had only raised his booted foot, an evil smirk on his face. Elladan, understanding the gesture, had stopped in his tracks, consenting himself with glaring daggers at the man; he did not want to cause his brother more harm.
Bauglir, however, seemed to have other ideas. Although Elladan had stopped a few feet in front of the two humans, the booted foot crashed down a second time, this time at the exact spot where the arrow had pierced the leg, snapping the black shaft in several pieces and ramming the tip deeper into the flesh.
Estel gasped in pain and sweat appeared on his brow. The scream that rose up in his chest never came as the pain drove all air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping and writhing on the leaf covered ground.
Grinning, Bauglir had ordered that the elves shall be taken away and, after some pleading words from Elrohir, Elladan had let the men take him away. It made his stomach churn to leave his little brother out of his sight, but he knew to obey to the hunters' wishes was the only way to prevent Estel from getting hurt even more.
Bauglir, still grinning like a maniac, had gripped Estels arm and, hauling him to his unsteady feet, had pushed him in the direction of the camp.
Of course Estel's leg had buckled under him, sending him crashing to the ground once more, pain lancing through his leg and causing the ranger to feel sick. Nevertheless, Estel kept from crying out again. He gritted his teeth, pulled his legs under his body and stood, albeit on wobbling legs.
The walk through the forest cost the ranger most of the strength his flight had not yet taken. Every time he stumbled on his sore leg, Bauglir would push him or kick him, making Estel stumble even more. And every time the hunter did that, the ranger gritted his teeth even harder, unwilling to let the scream of agony which was desperately trying to escape, pass his lips.
Estel did not want his brothers to do something foolish. Not when they were unarmed and surely not when they were bound. To his relief the hunters did not seem very interested in the two elves; they only pushed them forward every time one of them stopped in his tracks to look over his shoulder at Estel. Never did one of the hunters hurt them or threaten to kill them.
When they finally reached the campsite, Estel sighed inwardly. His leg hurt even more than before, the wound still bleeding and saturating his trousers with red crimson blood. For a while, the ranger did not exactly know for how long already, his head had felt dizzy and the trees had shifted in and out of focus.
The cramped feeling in his chest had not lessened and his lungs burned like fire every time he took a breath. But beside all this, the ranger did not utter a single word of pain. Staying strong, or at least, pretending to be strong, would help his brothers and perhaps even him-self. Giving in to the pain meant accepting his fate and Estel was not ready to do so, yet.
Night had settled over the small clearing the tents stood in, and the red and gold fires illuminated the trees and the surroundings. It was almost peaceful, had there not been the remaining men, all armed with swords or bows. They stood still as statues, only their eyes moved, following the arriving group, never leaving their frames.
When Bauglir pushed Estel again and the ranger stumbled near one of the fires, nearly falling into it and preventing to do so only in the last second, another man entered the scene, his hair as white as the clouds on a stormy day and his eyes gleaming red in the fire light.
He stepped up to the two elves, gave them a cursory glance and then moved on to stand before the bound ranger. Eyeing the man up and down, no muscles twitched in Dagnir's face, no emotion could be seen on it. Had Estel known him for longer, he would have noticed this as a very bad sign.
"So," Dagnir hissed, his anger boiling under his calm façade. "If my memory does not deceive me, I told you not to try anything, ranger." Still, the voice was low and measured, but it was only the quiet before the storm.
Gulping, Estel did not answer. He knew that whatever he would say now would only anger the captain further and if the gleam in Dagnir's eyes was any indication at all, the man was already angered beyond control.
Furrowing his brow, eyes turning even redder, Dagnir told the ranger: "Answer me, did I, or did I not, tell you not to make one false move?" The captain's voice was almost sweet now, dangerously sweet and much too calm.
Sweat trickled slowly down the youngest Elrondion's back and he could feel his injured leg tremble under his weight. The blood that still flowed slowly from the wound made its way down the leg, the warm liquid drenching his clothes. Swallowing, Estel did not break the eye contact he had with the hunter and said nothing.
The changing of the gleam in Dagnir's eyes was all the warning the ranger got. Before he knew what happened, before he had even so much time as to blink, one of Dagnir's hands had seized the rest of the arrow shaft that still protruded from his leg and, turning the arrow in the wound, pulled it out in one fluid motion.
Estel, not expecting this, could only gasp in shock and pain. All strength left his body at once and his legs crumbled under him, sending him to the ground and halfway into the burning fire he had stood beside. In his state of pure pain, the ranger did not realize that hungry flames were licking at his cloth and skin, burning his tunic and reddening his skin.
His eyes only him showed dancing spots of red and black and his ears seemed to have stopped working properly and all he heard was the beating of his own heart and the rushing of his blood.
Slowly, his mind registered a new sensation, a new pain that spread up his left arm, covering it and wrapping it into a neat blanket of pain and heat. His vision narrowed even further, leaving only some space for red and black and swirling masses of colour.
When Estel found himself drifting into the dark abyss that he knew so well, his ears heard agitated voices, shouts and screams and somehow, they sounded familiar to him.
The last thing the ranger felt before a blissful oblivion overtook him, were strong hands that rolled him over onto his other side, lessening the pain in his arm somewhat, but at the same time putting pressure onto is wounded leg and causing the pain to aflame anew. It was enough to send the young human into the awaiting blackness.
End of chapter 10
Tbc…..