Title: Delw yomenie (Deadly encounter)

Characters: All Peredhels, mainly Strider, Legolas……and something/someone deadly….

Timeline: Before FOTR

Rating: T (!)

Warnings: Cliffy. Cruelty and maniacal behaviour. WIP.

Summery: Our Middle-Earth friends encounter something deadly…..

Feedback: YES! Please!

A/N: Many thanks to Trini for her beta-work. Just great! Many thanks to all the great reviews. I will answer them as soon as possible. You laddies are the best!

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.

Chapter 16 – Trapped

The next morning dawned dark and cold, foreboding the arrival of the storm and bidding the beings in the small clearing an unfriendly good morning. No birds were singing, no animals drinking near the stream, the forest laid still and quiet, awaiting the storm and the releasing of the tension that had built up over the last few days.

Estel had not woken during the rest of the night, leaning against his brother's strong shoulder, unaware of the concerned glances that the twins shared and oblivious to the cold of the biting wind that had played with his hair and had made his wet cloths stiff and chilly.

Now, as morning dawned and the hunters were preparing to leave for the Misty Mountains, it was time for the ranger to wake. Elladan, not wanting his little human brother to be kicked awake or woken by any other unpleasant form, gently moved his own shoulder, trying to wake the sleeping human.

As Estel did not stir, Elladan bent his head down and whispered gently: "Estel, you must wake, brother. It is time." Slowly, the human's eyelids fluttered and then the ranger opened his eyes, glazed over by fever and confusion, no recognition visible in the silver orbs.

Estel tried to sit up, but fell back gasping in pain as his leg screamed in hot fury at the movement, and as if that had not been enough to let him wish for sleep once more, his head pounded with a ferocity the ranger had not felt in many years, a feeling as if a cave troll had used his club to shatter his head into tiny little pieces.

He gasped again at the pain and the breath he took caught in his parched throat, making it itch so ferociously that Estel started to cough violently, tears filling his eyes as the pain increased. His chest constricted painfully and as he could not move his arms, he slumped forward, drew his knees up and hung his head, coughing harder than before. The moments stretched into eternity, but the coughing fit would not ease and the ranger started to feel the lack of air. He felt light headed and like world was spinning around him, making him sick to the stomach.

With all his will he concentrated on his breathing, willing the coughing to stop. After long moments Estel managed to breathe easier, even if shallow and hitching. His throat hurt as fiercely as it had done the first night in the camp and his broken rib screamed furiously at the rough treatment. Slowly, he straightened up again and felt his head pounding heavily with every breath he took, confusing his thoughts. Soft murmurs reached his ears.

"Sh, Estel, easy. We're here. We're with you. Take it easy." Confused, the human blinked, than focused his gaze on the elf that was towering over him.

"Elladan?"

"Aye, Estel, it is me." Slowly, recognition entered the confused eyes and after another moment, Estel remembered why he felt as he did and why he was leaning at his brother's shoulder.

"Are you two well?" Estel asked, his voice rough from the earlier coughing. Sharing a glance with Elrohir, who sat on his other side, watching Estel's every movement, Elladan replied.

"Aye, Estel, we are well," he answered, "but how are you, gwanur (brother)?"

"It hurts." There was no need to say more. The twins knew he was wounded and they would surely have noticed that the last night's events had not helped his condition. There was no need to pretend that he was alright and on the other hand, Estel did not want his brothers to worry needlessly. They already worried enough about him.

So concentrated on their little brother were the elves, that they missed the footsteps of the hunters that neared them, that was, until the five men stopped before them, two of them with small knives in their hands, two others carrying ropes. The fifth man was no other than Bauglir himself, the captain's cruel second-in-command.

"And? How does our little ranger feel this morning? Still alive?" It was obvious that the hunter was enjoying the situation immensely. He stood tall and proud before them, hands placed at his hips, a filthy grin on his face. As Estel shivered slightly as another gust of wind caught in his still damp hair, the filthy grin only widened, making the hunters face gleam in joy. Yes, Bauglir was enjoying this immensely.

Bending down so that his face was on the same level as that of Estel, the man hissed maliciously: "Wouldn't want our game to end so early. It is so much fun." Reaching out, the hunter patted the ranger's cheek in a mocking gesture. It nearly made the twins burst with anger and Estel recoil in disgust. Before any of them could do so, Bauglir straightened again, then turned and walked away, chuckling softly.

Without further words, the hunters cut the ropes and then bound the hands of Elladan and Elrohir before them so that they would be able to ride. They steered them all in the direction of the horses, Elrohir cradling the still sleeping Taran in his arms, Elladan supporting Estel as much as he could.

There was no breakfast for the child this morning, no water or food for the elves or Estel, and deep inside they all knew why. There was no need to. Before the sun would have settled, the looming mountains would be within their reach and then no one would be able to stop the hunters in their plans. Ere this day was over, the captives would be of no more need. Why waste good food for beings that were as good as dead?

Xoxoxoxo

While tightening his damp cloak around his slim shoulders, Legolas watched as the hunters made the twins and Estel climb on the horses, Estel being more hoisted up by Elladan than climbing up by himself, and Elrohir cradling the little adan close to his chest, never letting his brothers out of his sight.

With a sharp command from the leader, the party set into motion, the captives in the middle of the dense troop, watched from either side by the hunters; an escape attempt seemed impossible. And furthermore, the captain and his second-in-command, both clothed almost identically in dark green and brown, were riding besides the captives, their horses tall and proud.

As the party of riders moved out of his sight, he stood up to follow. Having made only one step, he gasped in pain and, quickly placing his hand to his side, Legolas' knees buckled and he and landed hard on the ground, his fair face screwed up in pain.

Controlling his hitching breathing and trying to focus not on the pain that speared through his side, but on the nature around him - the wind in the leaves, the water behind him gurgling in the stream, the light of the weak sun that now and then pierced the storm clouds and the pounding of the horses hooves in the distance – the elf slowly felt the pain lessen and his pounding heart find its usual rhythm again.

Opening his eyes slowly, which he had not even felt closing in his pain, Legolas took his hand away from his old stab wound and, to his dismay, found the palm of his hand smeared with blood. Holding his hand before his eyes, he watched how the bright red crimson slowly ran down his hand, drenching his sleeve and then dropped to the ground, almost mesmerized.

A gush of cold wind rushed past him, showering him in needles and dry leaves of the last winter; playing with the elf's hair and pulling at his clothes. It was enough to free the elf out of his stupor and with a groan Legolas wiped his hand in the grass, leaving it sprinkled with red drops. Sighing, he swallowed and then reluctantly pushed his tunic up to take a look at the wound.

As he had feared, the bandage that wound around his side showed the blood that had seeped through it and had drenched his tunic in it. But to his relief, some of the blood had already dried and the most part of the bandage was still clean, indicating that the bleeding had not been as severe as he had thought at first.

Nevertheless, if he wanted to stop it from becoming infected or bleeding even more, he had to change the bandages and perhaps even wash the wound. Sighing again, Legolas let his tunic fall down, covering the wound and stood up, pressing his hand at his side to support the injury. Hissing at the pain that rushed through his body like the wind had rushed through the trees, the archer stood on his feet, albeit swaying slightly like a new born flower in the summer breeze.

He knew that there was no time to wash or clean the wound, let alone change the bandages. If he wanted to keep up with the hunters, he had to go, and he had to go now. He did not know why the wound had started to bleed again, probably because he had lain on the hard floor all night, hardly moving and the abrupt movement of standing up had aggravated his injury. He did not know. But it mattered little as there was no way he could have prevented it or change it now.

No, he needed to go and to keep up with the hunters until either they reached the Misty Mountains or help arrived from Imladris. Hoping that the latter would be the case, the Prince shouldered his bow, secured his twin, white daggers on his back and strode out, silently as a cat and agile as a butterfly that flew through the air.

Xoxoxoxo

The ride had been long and hard, the riders pressing the horses forward, ignoring the tiredness of the animals as well as the storm that came nearer and nearer, the lightening now directly over the party of hunters, as were the Misty Mountains. Finally the hunters had reached their destination.

Dark and threateningly the mountains stood before them, dwarfing the humans and elves that seemed small and unimportant. The shadows that the towering masses of stone threw on the riders made the horses neigh in fear and the hunters cringe unpleasantly. They all felt the danger that emanated from the mountains, as if the stone itself was yelling at them to go back from whence they had come. And perhaps the mountains were even doing that, but the humans had never learned to understand the nature that surrounded them and the elves were unwilling to listen to the cold and unyielding stone.

During the long ride through the day and especially in the afternoon, as the wind had strengthened and the thunder had become louder, Elladan had felt his little brother grow more and more limp in his arms, the ranger's head resting at Elladan's shoulder and his body leaning against the elf's strong chest.

More than once the elf had tried to speak with Estel, but his brother had answered either shortly and absentmindedly or not at all. To Elladan's worry, he had noticed that the wound on his brother's leg had started to bleed again during the morning, leaving the leg of his breeches dark and red from the human's blood.

The fever that had settled into the ranger's body had not lessened and the dark haired twin felt the heat that came from his brother on his own skin. Sweat had built on Estel's brow and as the human had closed his eyes and his head had tilted to the side, Elladan had feared the worst. But a quick examination had shown that Estel had only fallen into an uneasy sleep, due to his tired and exhausted state.

To the twins it was a wonder that Estel was still conscious after so many hours of riding, as the jolting of the horses and the constant motion must surely have aggravated his injuries and caused him a great amount of pain. They still had no clue as to what had happened in the night and why Estel had been absolutely soaked when he had returned, but they assumed that it had something to do with the little stream that had gurgled near the clearing. Both twins could have only hoped that Estel had not suffered too much. But inside they knew he had.

The sun that was no longer visible through the clouds but it had by now wandered deep in the sky, surely nearing its position near the horizon. Grey clouds had painted the sky a deep dark color, making the world darker than it should have been at this time of the day. The birds that usually sang joyous and harmonious melodies had hidden in the high branches of the trees, silent and still, fearing the storm and the nature.

Cold rushes of wind assaulted the hunters and their captives, tangling in the horses' manes and sneaking under the clothes and into the hair, making the skin turn cold and the muscles stiff. The rain-laden clouds had still not opened, leaving the air moist and heavy to breathe. Yellow and green colors had arisen on the sky, making the undersides of the clouds look evil and poisonous. Nature was preparing to fight.

But not only nature was ready for battle.

Xoxoxoxo

Suddenly, the heavy air was pierced by a high pitched scream, soon followed by a second and then a third. Horses neighed, frightened and confused, riders screamed, humans yelled and arrows sang.

Two humans tumbled from their steeds, dead, arrows protruding from their chests, elven arrows. The third hunter, who had been shot in the shoulder, slid from his horse and hid behind some large rocks, trying to hide from the sudden attack.

Within seconds, his fellow hunters did the same, all abandoning their horses and rushing for cover behind trees and the highest boulders they could find. They had ridden into a trap and they knew it.

The screams that had cut the moist air had alerted the twins to the presence of the elves, but their hope had been shattered almost instantly as the leader of the hunters and his second-in-command, who had both ridden at their sides as if expecting an attack, placed the tips of their swords at the twins' necks, pushing them down from the horses and behind the high rocks, dragging Estel and Taran with them. And then, the fight began.

Xoxoxoxo

Elrond and Glorfindel had led the party of elven warriors through the night and then through the next day, pressing the horses hard, only halting when they needed to refresh the animals. The wind from the coming storm had slowed them down as they had had to avoid flying twigs and swinging branches, all the way encouraging their horses to go faster and swifter. Which they had done obediently, feeling their master's urgency.

Shortly before the sun had vanished behind the stormy clouds, leaving the earth dark and foreboding behind and closing the circle the storm had created between darkness and sunlight, the party of elves had reached the outcroppings of the Misty Mountains. After securing the tired horses, the elves had taken up position in the trees, covering the whole range of the mountainside as far as it had been possible, as they did not know where the hunters would come from.

As the first of the human riders had neared the position of an elven warrior, the elf had sent an arrow to the elf next to him and his fellow warrior had done the same, this way alerting all other elves that the humans had arrived.

Even before the other elves from Rivendell, including the Lords Elrond and Glorfindel, had reached the spot of the elf that had first seen the hunters, the first arrows had flown, despite the Lords warning to wait. But the sight of his friends, bound and injured in the hands of such cruel humans had loosened the bow strings and therewith the arrows that had killed two of the humans and injured a third, who would now not be able to shoot a single arrow with his injured limb.

But the uncontrolled attack had given the hunters an advantage. They had fled behind the vast stone outcroppings and the tall and wide trees, hiding behind them and finding cover. No arrow would find its mark through the hard stone or would fly behind the trees. Only time and skill would tell whether the elven arrows would fly true.

When the humans had sought cover and the horses had fled into the woods, neighing frightened and shying from time to time, Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, had arrived at the scene and taken in what he could see from his place high in an old oak tree, which branches creaked and swayed in the wind.

The ground below him was deserted, the horses had fled, the hunters had hidden behind the boulders and trees, only two humans had remained on the path, both dead, killed by elven arrows. Searching frantically, the elven Lord tried to find his sons, but his search was in vain, as he neither spotted the twins nor Estel. He did not even realized that his loyal adviser reached his side, blue eyes concerned and also searching for any signs that his protégés were still alive.

Anger rose in Elrond. Had he not explicitly ordered not to shoot? Had he not told the warriors to wait until all of them had arrived? Was it too much to ask to wait? Whoever had shot the first arrow had probably endangered his son's lives. But although Elrond was angered about the elven warrior, he was furious about the human hunters. How dare they to hurt his sons? Taking up his bow and notching an arrow and feeling Glorfindel do the same, Elrond waited. He would not hesitate to shoot. Not this time.

Xoxoxoxo

Faint screams reached his ears. Legolas stopped in his tracks, crooking his head to the side to listen. Surely, he had heard screams, but how many? One, two, or even three? Fear rose in his stomach. Had the hunters hurt Estel? Or the twins? Was he too late? Had he failed?

With a burst of energy he did not even know he still possessed, Legolas ran towards the sound, hoping and praying to the Valar that whoever had screamed in pain, was none of his friends.

Taking his bow from his shoulder while he ran and gripping it hard, he rushed through the underbrush, scratching his face and arms at the low hanging branches and stumbling over unseen roots and boulders, the Prince ran and ran, never looking back, only forward.

His breath coming quicker and his legs shaking slightly from exhaustion and the adrenalin that his heart pumped through his system, Legolas broke through a dense thicket of bushes, entering what looked to be a battle field. And it was.

On the right side of the elf, his sharp eyes could make out large boulders and trees, and behind these obstacles, the hunters, all armed and firing arrow after arrow at the trees.

Because there, to the Prince's left, high trees stood, its crowns swaying in the stormy wind and sheltering elven warriors, who shot arrow after arrow in the direction of the hunters.

There was no time for Legolas to take a relieved breath and rejoice that help had come, that his plan had worked, as the horse he had sent to Imladris had obviously reached the elven haven and alarmed the elven Lord, who had then sent warriors to rescue the twins and Estel. As soon as the archer stepped out of the cover of the trees, arrows flew into his direction, swishing past his head and making the Prince throw himself to the side, searching cover.

It had been no elven arrow that had nearly hit him, but one of the black arrows that the hunters used. Cursing under his breath and crouching behind a fallen log, Legolas took a deep breath, then, in one fluid motion, rose and at the same time aimed and let his arrow fly. But no yelp of pain met his ears, as it usually did. The arrow must have hit one of the rocks instead of the initiated target.

Looking left and then right, the blond archer came to the conclusion that he could neither reach the trees his kin had found cover in, nor venture further into the direction of the rocks, as the humans would surely kill him if he went there. With a feeling of fear he recognized that he was trapped. Trapped behind a fallen log from which he could not rise. But the fear he felt was not for his own well-being, but for that of his friends.

xoxoxoxo

Arrows were whizzing through the air, hitting rocks and embedding themselves into trees, shattering on the unyielding stone and injuring the bark of the tall trees. But the arrows did not hit what they were intended to hit, being hindered from doing so by the cover the humans had found.

The accurate aim of the elven warriors, high in the trees kept the hunters prisoner behind their rocks of stone and trees of green, if they did not wish to find an early and swift end. And none of them was foolish enough to try and run. Because run they could, but not for long.

As the first screams of pain had shattered the stillness of the day, Dagnir had known that his plan had been ruined. He had seen his men fall from the horses, dead before they had hit the ground, they lives ended by green fletched arrows. It had been all that he had needed to know that the elves that he had so feared and worried about had caught up with them. No, he had thought, had waited for them.

Not wasting any more time, he had swiftly unsheathed his long and deadly sword and had pressed the tip of it at one of the elves, the one holding the ranger, forcing them both to the ground with him and then, using them as cover, had retreated behind the highest formation of rock that he could have found.

It seemed that the archers had been too afraid to attack him, as as soon as he had pulled the elf and human down off the horse and to the ground, not a single arrow had even flown near them. It had been a wise decision indeed to ride next to the elves that day.

On his way to the shelter that the rocks would give him, Dagnir had seen out of the corner of his eye that his second-in-command had done the same as he, namely using the other elf and the child as cover and seeking the rock formation for further shelter.

Reaching the rocks, Dagnir pushed the elf and the human from him, but not so far as to risk another flight attempt. He saw how the ranger crumpled to the ground immediately, the elf unable to stop the fall, with his hands still bound before him. The fair being, an expression ranging from relief to confusion to worry crossing his face, knelt beside the fallen man, speaking to him softly and reaching out to shake his shoulder.

With a mighty jump and a sharp intake of breath, his second-in-command slid behind the gray stones beside him, his sword still at the elf's throat. Where the first elf looked worried, this one looked angry and, yes, almost mockingly at the sword at his neck, as if he knew that the game was over, the last move played. The little child, the cause for all this, was cradled in the strong arms of the elf, eyeing everything with big blue eyes, shock and fear visible in the dark orbs.

Turning, the captain shifted his gaze from his captives to the trees before him. The prisoners were not important at the moment. They could not flee and the ranger was certainly not in any condition to do much. Instead, Dagnir needed to know what had happened. Pressing his body against the rocks before him, he lifted his head just enough to be able to look over the rim of the hard stone over to the other side.

This folly had nearly cost him his life, as a sharp arrow whizzed past his head, making him feel the air that followed the projectile. Ducking and pressing himself even further against the rough rock, the captain cursed his luck. The short look that he had dared had been enough to confirm his worries.

He had seen elves in the trees, not many, only two or three as the beings had been hidden by the leaves and the gray and brown branches that seemed to cover the elves. But, there was no mistaking what he had seen, the colors of Rivendell. The elves from that elven city had followed them, as he had predicted.

He had known from the beginning that they would hunt them down, that was why he had taken the ranger with him and for a few days, the elves. It was not the presence of the elves that made him frown and his heart hammer in his chest. It was the fact that the elves had been there before them; that they had waited for them.

How could the elves have known where they were heading and where they would be? Anger boiled up inside of him as he realized with shocking clarity that his letter had maybe never reached Bree and therewith never the intended person. His plan was ruined. He had been robbed of his chance of revenge.

If he knew anything about elves, and it was more than other humans as he had hunted and killed them for money more times than he could count, than it was that if elves ever had aimed with their bows at a target, they would not stop until the arrow had found its home. Dagnir knew that it was over. He would not get out of this one alive, not after what had happened, after what he had done. Perhaps if he was able to escape somehow, then maybe he had a chance of surviving, but the chances were slim, and he knew it.

His eyes blazing with fury and his pulse racing in his body, his blood rushing in his ears and his hand gripping the handle of his sword with such a force that his fingers turned white, Dagnir turned his red blazing eyes at the person that was responsible for all his problems.

Even if he would never get his revenge from his old enemy Torian, he would make sure that that ranger would pay for what he had cost him. And he had cost him dearly.

Xoxoxoxo

His body had been thrown to the cold ground mercilessly, his chest hitting the forest floor hard, pressing the air out of his lungs and making him gasp for breath. His arms that were still bound behind his back had hurt before, but the long ride had made them numb, both from cold and lack of use. The pushing and pulling as he had been forced from the horse had made his good arm protest against the action, but his injured arm had screamed in agony and send bolts of liquid fire through his body, making him gasp from the pain.

He was dimly aware that Elladan was still with him, even as they had been dragged to the rocks and was now kneeling beside him, speaking to him in elvish that all would be well and that he should stay awake and strong.

Estel knew himself that should he now pass out his life would be forefeit. For, who would need an unconscious hostage? So he struggled to control his harsh and rapid breathing, fought against the pain in his chest and his whole body, only to do as his brother bade him to do; to return to him and to stay strong. He had to stay strong, both for his brothers and for Legolas. It never crossed the rangers mind that he needed to stay strong for himself as well, if he wished to come out of this alive.

As his vision had cleared enough to see and his arms and legs had stopped throbbing with hot fire, he lifted his head and tried to push himself into a sitting position. With the help of his older brother Estel finally managed to sit up, but as he did, he wished he had not.

Because there, right before him, only a short way ahead, Dagnir leaned against the large gray rock formation, his face a mask of hatred and anger. The sword in his hand was shaking from the strong grip that the hunter had on it. And his eyes, his eyes burned with a fire as intense as the fires of Mordor itself. An all consuming hatred brimmed within them, reflecting the very soul of the leader. And the hatred was not directed solely at the elves that had trapped them, but at Estel, and the ranger knew it.

When Dagnir's face turned slowly into a grimace that not even Sauron himself would have called an evil smile, Estel felt his heart fall into his stomach. The captain was not only furious with hatred, he was desperate and desperate maniac leaders of killer commando's of human hunters could do foolish things, things that would most likely kill him.

Swallowing, Estel hoped that Dagnir would not do anything to hurt his brothers but that his actions would be concentrated on himself. He knew he could never live with himself if his brothers got hurt because of him. And although he knew deep inside that he was not to blame, that all that had happened was the fault of the hunters and especially Dagnir and Bauglir, the feeling of guilt had settled in his heart and Estel knew that it would only vanish if his brothers, and Legolas for that matter, were back in Imladris, safe and sound.

When the captain of the hunters lifted his arm and pointed his long broadsword at him, saying in his low voice only a single word, so full of malice and at the same time amusement, Estel knew that the game would end, here and now, and he was not sure who would be the winner.

Xoxoxoxo

Elrohir, cradling the terrified child in his bound arms, watched as his brother was thrown to the ground, Elladan kneeling beside him and helping Estel into a sitting position. He was relieved that elves of Imladris had come, perhaps even his father himself. He felt the sharp steel of the sword still pressing against his neck, but the pressure had lessened somewhat since they had found shelter behind the rocks.

Turning his head to look at the human that had grabbed him, he saw the hunter watching the other humans, as they struggled to stay out of the way of arrows and at the same time shoot arrows of their own. Elrohir knew that these humans stood no chance against the superior skill of the Imladris elves. Sooner or later they would all die. And although he did not kill needlessly, not even his enemies, the thought that these humans would not live to see the next dawn made his heart beat in satisfaction. No one dared harm a Peredhel!

But his feelings of suppressed joy soon turned into horror as his eyes took in the scene before him; Estel still on the ground, Elladan bending over him, both watched closely by the captain and his second-in-command. When the white haired human lifted his sword arm and locked gazes with Estel, Elrohir knew instantly that things had gone from bad to worse.

His ears caught the single word that the human captain had spoken, and the malice and hatred in it made his heart turn cold, but the hidden joy that was mingled in the tone made him cringe in fear. The word that the captain had directed at his little brother raced through his head over and over again: "You!"

xoxoxoxo

Elrond stood, high in the trees, his bow ready, an arrow notched to the string which was as tight as it could have been. Long had it been since the Lord of the elven haven had fought in battle, but he had not forgotten.

Now, as the wind rushed through his hair and played with his braids, as the sky darkened even further and the heavy gray clouds that had blackened the earth made the world cold and dangerous, Elrond waited. He could do nothing else; the humans were hiding behind the rocks and the trees and the elven warriors were not able to kill them in this position.

Time went on, neither side gaining an advantage, the arrows becoming fewer and fewer as the targets on both sides were hidden and to shoot and arrow meant to waste an arrow. The storm that raged in the sky was now directly over the battlefield, lightning crashing in the air, thunder clapping loudly, deafening the movements of the fighters.

Then suddenly, as another stroke of lightening illuminated the rocks and the ground, Elrond thought that he had seen movement behind the stones. Lifting his bow and pulling the string tight, he took aim. His eyes narrowed to slits as the elf Lord focused on the rocks and the human hunters that were hidden behind it.

Another clap of thunder shook the earth, and with it, the sharp elven eyes of the Lord of Imladris saw what he had been waiting for. There, behind one of the biggest rocks, was movement. One of the hunters seemed to rise. All happened to the Lord as if time itself had stopped.

Elrond saw the green and brown clothing of the hunter emerge from behind the rock, he saw a shoulder, then a sleeve, finally followed by a boot and leg. When the head of the hunter, his enemy, appeared from behind the rock, Elrond loosened his hold on the arrow slightly. He would kill all the humans that had dared hurt his sons and Legolas.

Wind rushed through Elrond's hair, thunder clapped, another bolt of lightening illuminated the scene. Smiling grimly, he shifted his aim slightly. He wanted to make sure to hit the heart and when he was ready to loose the arrow, he exhaled and let his arrow fly.

The second he had released his hold onto the deadly projectile, the human that had by now stepped up from behind the rock lifted his head. Silver eyes instantly found Elrond's own. The light of another bolt of lightening reflected in the silver sprinkled orbs, making them clearer and larger than they were. With a shocking clarity Elrond realized who the human below was.

It was Estel who had left the cover. Estel, who was now in the path of the arrow, Estel, who would die by his father's hand.

End of chapter 16

Tbc….. Chapter 17 is called "Arrows and swords"