Hi!

Here´s the next chapter. Things are gettinga bit "heated" - behold the battle scenes (though none too graphic). Thanks so much to San for editing once more and of course to all who read and/or review. Please let me know what you think, each and every comment is cherished.

Enjoy!

Alina

Rating: K+

Diclaimer: Not mine

Fire and Ice

Elvish and human voices mingled around Elrond as he rejoined the battle. The elven lord had cut down several raiders who had managed to slip through a weakened spot in the lines. Now he gracefully twisted to escape the teeth of a wolf, only to bury his curved blade deeply within its throat. A few more steps and he filled the gap left open by several slain men. Even though there was no time to closely regard the victims, he knew them to be villagers. Their simple weapons and garments told them apart from warriors, and the elf felt a fresh surge of fury for their loss.

"Rych anglenno!"/Horses are approaching/ Elrond repeated the call he had uttered many times already, and yet again he heard it echoed among the defenders. He knew that the elves would be ready for their mounts once they appeared and he also trusted them to understand his plan and briefly explain it to their human companions. The defensive ring would have to be pulled more tightly around the houses to make up for the loss of warriors.

Above their heads, the skies were painted by isolated steaks of yellow. The burning arrows were yet too few in number to cause any fires, but Elrond knew only too well that even his archers would not be able to hold back the tide forever. Their time was slowly running out.

Hadhafang sang as the blade flashed down upon yet another wolf, coming back dripping in blood yet never hesitating to arch up again in search of the next foe. It was in times like these that Elrond could feel his own strength melt into that of his sword until his hands seemed to be guided by the wooden hilt and the battle became a dance, detached from time and space. As the lines between life and death began to blur, so did those between fighter and weapon, between sane and insane. Soon nothing would be left but fleeting images and the smell of blood.

A sharp cry broke through his trance, waking him to the cold air that clung to his hot cheeks and the dull throbbing in his arm.

"Daro!" /Hold/

Elrond knew both the voice and the nature of the command. Allowing his senses to take in what was happening behind him, he heard horses snort and hooves clatter. Even without turning he could see Glorfindel as he would appear now, sitting tall on his grey stallion with his sword in his hand and steel in his eyes. A sudden hush seemed to fall across the battlefield, as if even the sounds of death and pain found themselves bound to the Balrog slayer´s will.

The elven steeds heeded his orders and halted, throwing up their heads as they sought out their owners amongst the throes of fighting.

"Rechyn en Imladris, na dagor!" /Riders of Imladris, to battle/

Shouts of agreement arose from all around, further drowning the snarls and cries that were meant to distract them, and then the hooves thundered once more.

Elrond saw several raiders before him stumble backwards, uncertainty written all over their features, and he took the advantage to pursue them, forcing them to retreat even further. A wolf that attempted to break past him fell, its belly opened, and then he felt his horse draw up behind him.

Stepping aside, the elf reached up with his left hand, grabbing the flowing mane as it seemed to fly past him. In one fluent movement he hoisted himself onto his steed´s back, wolves and raiders around him avoiding the swirling hooves and massive bulk that threatened to crush them.

Once on horseback, Elrond did not pull back his steed to gain a clear view of the battlefield. There was no need, for the cries from the rooftops behind him and the yellow arches that the flaming arrows painted into the darkness above were sign enough. The archers behind his enemies´ lines were his goal.

"Hûl!" he called, the ancient battle-cry mingling with the sounds of thundering hooves, "hûl!" Heeding his command, elven riders broke through the raiders´ lines at his sides while others swiftly became engaged in close combat.

More arrows passed overhead, their vague hissing a mockery of the elves´ attempts to hinder their flight. The night began to light up with flickering flames as several roofs caught fire in the village behind them, and Elrond´s commands melted into wordless shouts of anger.

Their time was running out.

x x x

"Naur!"/Fire/

The elvish shout cut through the humans´ murmur and easily reached those who could understand. Calen looked up from the twin's bandages that he had been inspecting for any signs of fresh bleeding.

"Naur rhenio!" /Flying fire/

Elladan cursed under his breath. "Burning arrows", he growled, "It would have been too much of a mercy for them not to use any."

"Aye", Elrohir agreed tensely, "it was to be expected." Even as he spoke, his eyes darted around the room and his brow furrowed, making his brother smile. The younger twin was ever more practical in situations like this, and even though Elladan was often perceived as the fiercer of the two, he knew in his heart that when it came to swift planning he preferred to allow his brother the lead.

"We should fill any buckets we can possibly find", Elrohir said, "and wet the walls and roof as much as we can. Calen, make sure all those who are able to help in these measures while the wounded are kept close to the walls. The fire might present a bigger threat than any foes."

The blond healer nodded curtly, adding even as he left: "Aye, and we will prepare wet cloth to wrap around mouth and nose."

Satisfied that Calen knew what he was doing, the younger twin turned to his brother. "There will be more than flames to fight", he said quietly, "let us find those who can still wield a weapon."

Elladan nodded mutely. All around them, rangers were calmly aiding the elven healer in his preparations while others just as silently joined the twins, their swords at the ready. The villagers complied with the orders they were given, hope and fear warring on their faces.

Outside, the sounds of battle changed, and hooves clattered past. Elladan and Elrohir froze, listening intently, until long moments later they simultaneously relaxed ever so slightly, even though worry was edged into their features.

"Ada." Elrohir whispered the word as a silent plea. "Aye", Elladan replied softly, laying a comforting hand unto his brother's shoulder. "He is leading a charge. Times must be more desperate than we thought."

x x x

There was a swift movement to Elrond's right, but the elf lord could not turn towards it. His sword was locked with that of a raider while his steed danced and bit furiously, keeping two wolves at bay.

Even as he dislodged his blade, swinging it sideways to cut across the man's chest, the elf felt more than heard yet another sword divide the air and he dodged reflexively. His horse neighed, feeling its rider overbalance but unable to straighten him.

Elrond heard the clash of steel on steel above and rolled when he hit the ground. Cold snow crept into his clothes and slipped down his back, leaving a trail of ice behind. The elf stood to his feet within a heartbeat, sword once more at the ready. It was only then that he realized that he had finally broken though the defensive ring that had been formed around a burning barrel. Two archers lay dead beside it, slain maybe even by himself.

The elf lord gripped the hot barrel without flinching and gave it a violent shove, sending the flaming oil into the snow. Sizzling mist rose into the air, dampening it, and the offensive light dimmed and died as it drowned within the puddle it had melted from the snow.

"Only one barrel left!"

Glorfindel reined in his horse, another raider sinking to his knees with dulled eyes even as the blond elf spoke.

The wolves that had closed in on Elrond´s horse gave short whines almost at the same moment, falling dead with several arrows piercing their necks.

The lord of Imladris mounted again, but he found himself free of foes. The fighting was still raging, but the two elves now encountered one of those quiet spots that sometimes appeared upon a battlefield, as if even death sometimes needed to take time to breathe.

"It is going well", Glorfindel said, blood flowing freely from several wounds, "the raiders are beginning to run. Our charge slew their courage. They were unprepared to meet us in the open."

Elrond had little hope to spare. The sky was now brightly lit above the village. Flames greedily consumed the thatched roofs, and whenever there was nothing left to sate their hunger, they would leap on to the next building. Outlined against the swirls of red and yellow both elven and human archers still stood their ground, their arrows aiding those in need upon the battlefield.

Deadly arches of fire still jumped at them from the cold darkness, and Elrond´s searching eyes swiftly found their source.

"Aye, only one barrel left", he breathed, "one too many!"

x x x

"To the sides! To the sides!"

Calen´s voice rose above the din even as Elrohir looked up from his discussion with the other fighters. He immediately saw that despite their efforts, the roof of their barn had finally caught fire. The younger twin cursed, seeing that the arrow must have struck high, almost beside the hole that marked the center of the structure. They would never be able to douse the flames.

"Follow me!"

His twin at his side, Elrohir made for the barn's gates. Even though he had no way of knowing how many foes waited outside, there was no other path to save the villagers; all they could do was to take them through here.

There was no need to discuss with the men and women who had joined the twins. Not one among them did not understand the stakes.

"Archers, ready your bows!" Elladan called, "keep inside as long as possible. All but us are to be shot upon entering."

He had barely finished when a group of rangers pushed open the gates. Most were wounded, and their fresh bandages were already tinged red from the effort. Even so, they did not hesitate to storm outside first, their hoarse cries all but drowned in the growing roar of the fire. Elladan tightened his grip on his sword and rushed after them, arrows passing him with faint hisses from behind his back.

Elladan had barely gained the fresher air outside when a weight collided with him, driving him to his knees. The older twin gasped, his breath knocked out of him both by the impact and the intense pain it caused. A brief flash of embarrassed anger shot through him at being downed so easily, and he drove his sword backwards beneath his armpit without even thinking.

The weight against him seemed to grow heavier and the elf slumped forward, catching himself with his left hand while the right was unable to pull back his sword. He cursed, the sounds of fighting around him washing over him in cold waves. He could tell that more arrows whizzed past above, many coming to a sickening stop when they met flesh and bone.

Lights began to dance before he eyes, and he was about to let go of his weapon when suddenly the weight against his back disappeared and he was pulled to his feet sharply, the dead body of a raider crumbling to the ground behind him. Still panting for breath, he came face to face with Elrohir.

"What were you thinking, brother!" Real anger flashed from his twin's grey eyes. "Since when do you storm outside like an elfling, not even looking up?"

The question was left unanswered when Elladan, finally able to take a glimpse at the battle he had stumbled into, saw a wolf jump for his brother's unprotected back. Swirling his sword in his fist, Elladan pulled his twin towards him to prevent him from stepping into the blow and then pushed his blade forward. He caught the wolf in the eye, stopping dead its approach.

Giving Elrohir a swift squeeze he whispered in soft taunting, "And since when do you turn your back onto battle?"

A brief grin passed between them before they focused on the fight once more. Not saying a word they stood back to back, their swords glinting in the flickering light. The air grew denser as their foes grew few, and they swiftly realized that not many enemies had managed or dared to venture this far into the burning village. Soon none were left.

Swaying slightly, Elladan put one hand on his brother's shoulder to steady himself. He could feel tremors run through Elrohir´s frame and sensed that there was little time left for them to help others. Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, they would soon be in need of aid themselves. Looking at his twin, he saw the glaze of exhaustion dim the usually clear grey eyes.

The surviving villagers gathered around the twins, more in concern than looking for council. Behind them, the rangers were already ushering the wounded and the children out of the barn. By now tall flames licked into the skies and smoke billowed around them like darkened fog. "Take them away from the battle", Elrohir called after the rangers. He found his thoughts hard to put into words. Now that the fight was over he could feel himself slipping, but he knew that it was too early to allow himself such liberties. Even so, the world was a muted blur to him, no matter how much as he tried to shake his senses awake.

It took him a moment to realize that weak voices drifted across to him from the barn. One belonged to Calen; of that Elrohir was sure.

Disengaging himself from Elladan, who was giving orders to those who could still bear arms, the younger twin stumbled back into the barn, seeking to help those in need. His eyes began to water from the smoke after only a few steps and when the first cough shook him, its force took him by surprise. Reaching out to steady himself, Elrohir yelped when his palm came into contact with the glowing remainders of a wooden beam.

The pain brought the world into sharp focus once more. Turning for the barn's gate, the younger twin found himself unable to locate it. Smoke and flames swirled around him as if inviting him to join a dance. He still heard people calling, pain and worry in their words, but they were lost to him in the roar of the fire and the swirl of the smoke.

Frozen to the spot, Elrohir felt his senses sharpen in desperation. He could hear the fire develop a voice that whispered to him, hissed threats that made his skin grow cold despite the intense heat that engulfed him.

"Look up", the fire taunted, "look up and see my glory."

Raising his watering eyes, Elrohir gasped as the smoke parted for his gaze and allowed him to see the burning roof. Showers of glittering sparks chased each other in the quivering air, playful like butterflies on a meadow, and behind them the a blazing wall of yellow and red quivered and rose as if moving with a dragon's breath.

The wooden beams were nothing more but fiery flashes of a darker red, their tormented wood groaning and crying beneath the onslaught of countless greedy flames that gnawed at them hungrily. Cracks appeared within them, bending them, breaking their will to keep safe those left beneath their roof.

With a last, pitiful groan, the main beam caved in and set free a waterfall of red that raced towards Elrohir, ready to sweep him away into the fiery abyss of death where heat and fire and battles would be no more but a fading memory.

TBC