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 11 – New hope when hope seems lost?
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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.
Warning: Tissues probably needed.
A/N: I welcome all kind of reviews!
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Night had slowly settled over the forest of Imladris, covering the Last Homely House in grey shadows and nestling into every corner and every crevice. Darkness had come fast, painting the houses black and the trees even darker. An owl screeched and some horses neighed softly in the stables.
The whole of Imladris seemed asleep or resting; a peaceful night steeling away the busy thoughts of the day and replacing them with slumber and dreams.
But this was not to be for all elves. Although the House of Elrond seemed quiet and ready for the night, two of its occupants were still busy with work and had no thought of sleep yet. They sat in the great Hall of Fire, some candles flickering on the table before them, two trays of untouched food beside them, and some old and yellow maps before them.
Since the rider less horse had stumbled into the courtyard, the two wise elves had discussed the situation. Many plans had been made and every single one of them had been a waste of time, as none of them would work.
There were too many things that were still unknown. How many humans were there? How far away were they at the moment? Did they all have horses? Were they on the move or in a camp? Was Estel injured, or had he escaped? Were the humans armed and willing to kill the captives should the elves attack?
But although many things were hidden from the elves knowledge, the Lord of Imladris and Lord Glorfindel were certain about one thing: they had to do something. Because Legolas had stopped the rider, they did not know where the rider had been headed to. According to the Mirkwood prince, the parents of the boy had travelled to Bree, but who knew? It could have been a lie and finding the two humans would be difficult, if not impossible.
Because of this reason, the two older elves had agreed on finding the older missing son instead of finding the child's parents. With finding Estel, they would find the boy.
Elrond and Glorfindel were busily studying the maps before them, which showed the forest of Imladris and the Misty Mountains. It was a very detailed map and both elves knew the area it showed.
"According to the letter, I assume that the humans must be here somewhere." The golden haired advisor pointed at the map, his slender finger circling an area near the west side of the mountains.
Nodding, Elrond straightened his back and sighed. "Aye, that is the part nearest to the forest and the mountain outcrops are vast there. They could easily hide there for days, if not weeks." Running a hand through his hair and tucking a strand of it behind his pointed ear, the Lord of Imladris sighed again and looked out at the map before him.
An hour ago, they had agreed on a plan, but it was risky, if not suicidal to do what they had planned; both elves knew this. A party of armed elves, all voluntaries, would set out towards the Misty Mountains, trying to reach the mountain face and the place the humans would most likely head to. They would not wait until the morning to depart, but would head out as soon as the horses were ready.
Hopefully, the elves would reach the Misty Mountains before the humans did, but if the humans were already there, hiding in the rocks, the elves would be sitting ducks for the archers. It was risky, but they had to try it.
When Elrond had told his staff of advisors and trustees what they would do, many of them had agreed to join the party that would head out, but Elrond had bid them stay. The message of the request of the Lord of Imladris had spread like a wildfire through the city and more elves than they would take had agreed to go.
Not only was Estel very popular with most of the elves, they also cared for the twins and the prince of Mirkwood, whose fate was still unknown. Every one of the voluntaries wanted to help bring the sons of Imladris back and help find the blond archer.
The fire in the Hall of Fire burned steadily and the two elves, lost in their thoughts, stared into it as if they could find the answers to their questions there. Then, as the silence that reigned became almost touchable, both Lords spoke in unison: "I will go, too."
They looked at each other for a moment, both studying the others face and finding there only the same emotions they felt. Elrond inclined his head slightly, closing his eyes briefly. It was settled. They would both join the party of elves and try and rescue their loved ones.
As the mighty Lord of Imladris left the hall to prepare his things, he swore to himself that he would not return empty handed. He would come back, with his twins, with Estel and with Legolas, all alive, or he would not return at all. Because, what would there be to return for, if his sons were not there?
A grim expression on his ageless features, his jaw set, Elrond hastened up the stairs and to his chambers. It had been long since he had gone out to fight, but he had not forgotten how to yield a sword or use a bow. And, by the Valar, he would show those humans what it meant to anger a Peredhel!
Some time later, in the middle of the night, a party of elves left the courtyard and headed out into the night and they would not rest until they had found what they were looking for.
xoxoxoxo
Pain. Unbearable pain. His whole body screamed at him, yelled at him, begged him to release him from the pain. But he could not. As much as he wanted to stop the fiery tentacles that spread through his leg, as much as he wanted to hinder the balrog from lashing its whip repeatedly at his arm, Estel was unable to do so.
Hanging between unconsciousness and waking, lingering in the sphere of being able to feel but paralysed to act, the ranger had to endure all the pain, phase upon phase. With every step he neared waking, the fire in his chest and leg became stronger and the desire to fall back into the dark abyss grew equally.
How many hours he had been unconscious, Estel could not tell, perhaps only a few, or maybe the whole night. All he had to do to find out was to open his eyes and look around. The memory of what had happened had returned to him upon the first step out of oblivion, and Estel felt fear explode in his stomach at the thought of his brothers and what the hunters would do to them.
If something had happened to the two, if they had been hurt, or worse, killed, it would be his fault and Estel knew deep inside that he would never forgive himself if he would be the cause of his brothers' deaths.
Struggling to consciousness, now more than ever, the ranger fought back the searing pain, the agonizing burning feeling, the fire in his chest, the overwhelming desire to lay back and succumb to darkness and finally, after long moments of fighting, he opened his eyes. Taking a look around, as much as his screaming body let him, Estels stomach churned with fear.
He was lying in the tent he had been in before, unbound and most important of all, alone. His brothers were not with him. Swallowing thickly, Estel tried to hold the mounting fear back, the foreboding feeling that something was not right, the feeling that something horrid had happened and that his brothers had paid the price for his escape attempt.
Fighting the tears that threatened to leave his eyes, both from fear and utter exhaustion combined with defeat, Estel let the darkness steal over him once again and carry him to other places, away from this gruesome world that had given him his brothers back at his side, only to take them away the next moment.
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With the night, the cold had come and sneaked into his clothes, chilling his skin and slowing his movements. The elf felt his feet become lead-like and his side had started to hurt more than it had done the whole night.
Nevertheless, Legolas went on, never stopping in his steps, taking no rests and only halting his feet to find new tracks, when the horse of the messenger he had met earlier had left ambiguous signs.
Breathing heavier than an elf should, the archer rushed through the night, like a shadow fleeing before the light.
He passed many trees and crossed the tiny river more than once; it seemed the rider had taken a straight path, where the river was winding lazily through the wood. On and on the journey went, over small hills and down again on the other side, all the time following the horse's tracks.
As the night stretched into morning and the first gold and red could be seen painting the horizon in the colors of morning, the elf reached a small clearing beside the river. Legolas stopped at the edge, panting slightly, pressing his hand to his side to stabilize the old wound.
He could not say what had caused him to stop. Was it his thirst or the pain from his side? Had something moved in the woods and had alarmed his warrior senses? Whatever it had been, inside the archer was glad that he had stopped. If he cared to admit it or not, once more in this night he had to confess to himself that he was tired.
When his breathing had slowed down and his heart was beating in a normal rhythm again, Legolas walked the little way to the stream and bent low to quench his thirst. The cool water caressed his throat and when he righted himself to go on, he felt refreshed and vivid.
Placing his bow in a more comfortable position on his back and righting one of his fine braids, the elf made a step, and then stood still as a statue. When he had placed his foot down, he had felt something shatter underneath it and the unmistakable sound of breaking wood had reached his ears.
This in itself would not have been unusual, but with the sound, a hollow feeling had risen in his stomach making the elf shiver. Gulping and dreading what he might see, the prince looked down, lifted his foot and saw what he had feared to see.
Because there, under his foot, partly hidden by the grass and the green leaves lay a black arrow, shattered and, to Legolas great worry and dismay, smeared with blood. He bent down and took a part of the projectile into his slender hands, examining it carefully and with the skilled eye of an archer.
It was not an elvish arrow; a first cursatory glance was enough to reveal this. Neither was it an orc arrow, orc arrows were more crude and uneven. Therefore the arrow Legolas held in his hands had to be human, and the arrow had found its mark, as the red blood in which it was covered showed clearly.
Standing to his full height again, Legolas surveyed the clearing, searching for other arrows, anything that could give him a clue as to what had happened. He saw neither arrows nor any sign that an animal had been hurt.
Instead his blue eyes found the footprints of at least six humans. Bending down low and nearly crawling over the wet grass, Legolas tried to find out what had happened. There, a man had run over the grass, and there, some others had followed, then stopped near the edge of the tree line. And there, two more had come from the river, no, before they had been hidden in the bushes.
Shocked, the elf realized what he was watching. The running man must have been Estel. Aye and the lighter footprints were from the twins. But, that left only one explanation. Estel and the twins had met in this very clearing. Hoping to find tracks that indicated that the twins and their brother had left the clearing again, the blond archer's eyes sought more tracks.
And he found more. The first he saw in the vanishing moonlight was more blood. Then the imprint of a body in the grass he had missed before and then, to Legolas horror, the tracks of eight beings leaving the clearing, one of them rather stumbling then walking, leaving behind him a trail of shining blood droplets.
Swallowing, Legolas looked down at the arrow which he still held in his hand. He hoped that what he had interpreted into the signs was not true. But the reality was that all evidence that he needed to trust in his own conclusions was lying in his hand; a bloody, shattered shaft of a black arrow.
Clenching the shaft in his hand, the elf's eyes narrowed and a steely gleam entered them. The pounding of his heart quickened and all coldness and tiredness left his limbs. Throwing the arrow to the wet ground, Legolas hurried on, only one thought thundering through his head.
They would pay!
xoxoxoxo
The hunters had not been gentle with them. When Elladan had rushed to Estel´s side and had rolled him out of the fire, extinguishing the flames that had been licking at his tunic and his arm, three of the hunters had grabbed him and had pushed him away, throwing the elf to the ground and holding him down.
Elrohir, who had also started forward to his little brother's side, had met the same fate; three men rushing to his side, forcing him to the ground and securing him there. What had followed would never leave the twins memory, for the rest of their immortal lives.
Dagnir, still clutching the arrow in his hand, had looked down at the unconscious Elrondion, his face void of emotion. After a moment of staring at the fallen ranger, he had kicked him with his booted foot over onto his back.
Estel´s head had rolled onto the side, his dark hair falling over his closed eyes, the scratch on his forehead clearly visible because of the white paleness of the ranger's skin. Dagnir had gazed down onto the man and then, with a flick of his hand, had thrown the arrow into the fire where the flames had greedily feasted on it.
Upon a curt nod to his men, two had lifted the ranger by his arms and had dragged his motionless body to one of the tents, closing the tent flap behind them. When they exited the tent a moment later, they wiped their hands clean on their clothes, as if they had been smeared with blood. And maybe they had been.
Elladan and Elrohir, sick with worry and fear, had yelled at the hunters to let them go to their brother, to let them help him and at the same time telling them to leave him alone. It had no effect on the humans.
They were hoisted to their feet, then pushed and pulled in the direction of one of the other tents, a good way away from Estel´s. Once there, their captors tied them securely to the massive tent post, smirking cruelly and giving worrying remarks concerning their little brother.
Even when the humans had left them to the darkness and the coldness inside the tent, Elladan had been consumed with anger and worry and had cursed the hunters in all languages that he knew, including some dwarvish curses that had even embarrassed Elrohir.
His rambling and cursing had led the elf nowhere and when Bauglir, the tall human that had threatened Estel, had entered their tent, showing them a long silver dagger and pronouncing that he would use it to harm Estel should Elladan not quieten immediately, the older twin had finally shut his mouth, glaring daggers at the tall human.
Now, a few hours later and deep into the night, the twins were far from tired. Their worry for their little brother was slowly killing them and there was nothing that they could do to ease the pain they felt.
Sighing, Elrohir shifted his weight and glanced at the ceiling above him. He tried to imagine the stars that blinked in the sky down on him and wondered if his ada was standing on his beloved balcony, watching the stars, too.
But the thought of his father, back home in Imladris, only served to make his heart heavier. Elrohir shut his eyes and let his head fall. Taking a deep breath, the younger twin suppressed the tears that pricked his eyes.
They had promised. They had promised to their ada to bring Estel back. And now, now they were captured, too, unable to do anything. They had vowed to their father to help Estel, to rescue him, to keep him from harm. And now, Estel might be dead because of their failure.
Taking another deep breath, Elrohir shook his head softly. He had to stay strong. Estel would need him and Elladan would need him, too.
"Elrohir?" Elrohir gave no reply, not sure if he could trust his voice. "El?" Elrohir swallowed the big knot in his throat and managed a choked: "Aye?"
Elladan sighed inwardly, relieved that his twin had answered. If his brother felt like he did, his heart must me breaking inside his chest. "We will get out of here, gwanur (brother), and then we will help Estel."
A sniff was his only answer. Swallowing, the older twin went on: "And, by Valar, Elrohir, I swear that these humans will get what they deserve."
Elrohir, wanting to believe was his twin was telling him, nodded slowly. Feeling his younger brother nod his agreement, Elladan said: "Elrohir, I swear, I will do all I can to get him out of here. We will get him out of here. You will see, before long we three will be back home, drinking ada's tea and sitting in the Hall of Fire, laughing with Legolas over all this like we laugh over our other mishaps."
"We will not laugh about this one, Elladan. It is different than the other times."
Not knowing at first how to answer his brother, Elladan breathed deeply. Then a strong light entered his eyes and he nodded once: "Aye, you are right. This time it is different, but it will end as all our adventures end. We will go back home, we three and Legolas, to tell the tale, not to become part of the tale for others to tell."
"Ever the optimist."
"No, gwanur, realist."
Elrohir could not feel his brother's new found strength and resolve, but when his twin was so sure that they would make it out of this one, it was hard for him not feel a little bit of hope of their escape too.
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Shortly after their conversation, the tent flap opened and one of the hunters entered, carrying a bundle in his hand. He stepped up before the twins and, unfolding the blanked, revealed what he was carrying. Taran was sitting in the human's arms, his face marred by wet streaks; tears had flowed freely down his cheeks.
The human bent down and placed the boy on the ground, leaving the blanket near the child. Then, with an ugly smirk he nodded in the direction of the frightened boy: "Boss´ thinks he can as well stay with you lot, now that that scum of ranger is, well 'unable' to take him."
Anger boiled up in the elves. How dared this human to talk about their brother in such a way. Snarling, Elladan ground out: "What have you done to him?"
The hunter's grin widened, revealing yellow and broken teeth. "Done, we? We have done nothing. And when I say nothing, elf, I mean nothing." With that, the man left the tent, chuckling as he went.
For the twins, the word of the hunter meant new fuel for the burning fear inside their hearts. Nothing, these humans had done nothing to help Estel; they had not cleaned his wounds or bandaged them. They had just left him in the tent to die.
Elrohir, hard pressed to keep his tears from spilling, let his head fall once more, guilt and defeat overwhelming him. A soft sniff then reached his sensitive ears, followed by another sniff and then another.
Turning, the elf saw the little adan sitting on the floor, silent tears falling down his soft cheeks, eyeing the tent flap with red rimmed eyes. Then, the little one crawled to the entrance of the tent, obviously trying to get out.
Elrohir, not really knowing what to do, as he and his brother were still tied securely to the tent post, burst out: "Daro!" (stop!). Taran stopped in his efforts and turned to look at the tall dark haired elf.
When Elrohir did not speak again, unsure of what to say, the little boy sniffed again and then pointed with his little hand to the tent flap, babbling something that sounded strangely like 'anger'.
Frowning, Elrohir shook his head, then nodded at the floor before him with his chin: "Come here penneth (little one). You cannot go out. Come here. I will do you no harm, penneth." He knew not why he was doing this. He did not want that little human near him, that amlug (dragon) did not like elves at all. But seeing the small child in tears and so alone made Elrohir's heart go out to the child.
Taran took another look at the tent flap, then at the twins, and when Elladan and Elrohir both smiled at him, he sniffed once more and then crawled to the elves. He stopped in front of the bound elves, sitting down before them, eyeing them with eyes as big as the full moon, tears still leaking out of them and trailing down his chubby cheeks.
Taran pointed at the entrance of the tent again and once more babbled something about 'anger'. And now, the twins understood what the child meant. Elrohir, not able to hold his tears back any longer, smiled through his tears at the child: "Aye, he is out there, our 'ranger' is out there. But we cannot go to him, penneth. Not now. You will stay here with us now. Sh, don't fear, penneth, all will be well. I promise."
It became too much and the younger twin's voice broke, leaving him in sobs and tears. His heart was bleeding for the child and also for Estel and his older brother and himself. Why did these things always have to happen to them? Estel was so vulnerable. He was the most precious gift the Valar had granted them and now they were so close to loosing him once more.
Elrohir, his head bent and his long hair obscuring his vision, felt a small hand on his legs. Taran, feeling the elf's pain, had moved to his side and had placed his small hands at the elf's leg, eyeing him sadly. When Elrohir sniffed, the little adan, climbed onto Elrohir's lap, curled him-self into a small ball, resting his head at the younger twins chest.
Looking down at the small child, Elrohir's tears flowed more freely, as the sight made his heart go out to the child and reminded him even more of his little human brother; Estels first year in Imladris, when the little Estel had occupied the same place on the elf's chest as Taran did now.
Glancing to his older brother, Elrohir saw the tears on his brother's face, too. Without words, both elves swore at that moment, that nothing would stop them from rescuing their brother, nothing.
End of chapter 11
Tbc…..