Chapter Nine: Choices Are Never Easy
Elrohir leaned over his brother's limp form protectively as his horse galloped across the open fields. Brush and small trees whipped past at the speed the horse ran. The horse was not elven, and therefore did not have the stamina the elf was so used to. Snorts of discomfort and grunting from the horse caused Elrohir some concern during the gallop and against his complaining, urged the horse to a slower gait rather then have her go lame on him, in his haste. Growling with impatience, Elrohir whispered soothing words into his brother's ear, however Elladan did not stir once.
A small fowl flew out from behind a bush, which caused the horse to start and stop suddenly. Cursing, Elrohir kicked the horse, once again racing across the field. Without warning, the horse reared up and twisted in mid stride. Startled by the suddenness of it, Elrohir was nearly thrown from the horses back. Gripping the reins tightly, he called to the horse for patience. The horse seemed to ignore his request and flew through the smaller trees. Cursing in elvish, Elrohir was unprepared when the horse raced right for a large tree.
The elf pulled hard on the reins and the horse knickers in protest stopping against the strength on the harness. Praying thanks to the Valar for quick wit, Elrohir quickly checked his brother's pulse and swallowed at the dull throb he felt on Elladan's neck. The horse danced impatiently, and neighed a complaint. Elrohir swore and growled at the horse for her youth. Elrohir pulled on the reins and turned the horse back towards the Bruinen.
Spurred into a gallop once again, the horse raced off, more out of control now then before. Elrohir glanced up warily trying to control the mount, but unsuccessfully holding her at bay. Before he could react, he felt the air fly out of him as he was thrown off the horse and into the dirt. Groaning, he attempted to stand and felt he was unable to. To his utter horror, he realized his foot was trapped in the reins, and he was being dragged across the ground.
Shouting to the horse, Elrohir reached forward to grip his foot, the same foot he had broken, and cried out as he was tossed into the air and then slammed back onto the earth forcefully. Suddenly his world turned black as his head connected with a large boulder.
Cire glanced around the abandoned camp, frowning with anger. The twins were gone, injured, tired, irritable, and far from any condition to travel by any means. "Stubborn fools." Cire hissed. Shaking his head in annoyance, Cire mounted his horse and trotted to the open field waiting for his men to arrive.
Two hours had passed since he had whistled for assistance, and he knew they would show over the hills at any moment. True to his word, his men rounded the base of the hills waving and grinning.
His captain walked his horse over to him nodding his head in greeting. "Good day Cire." He stated.
Cire nodded and nudged his head towards Rivendell. "We have a journey to make, and two elves to find."
"Two?" The man asked curiously.
Cire nodded, but refrained from saying more.
They rode in silence for over an hour before his captain quietly asked where they were headed.
"It seems Elrohir and his brother have decided to travel alone, whilst they are injured. I am following them to make sure they arrive home safely. Perhaps the Lord of Rivendell will make us welcome when we show."
A shout from up a head caused Cire to frown. "What have you found?" The captain shouted.
"I found Elror." The man attempted the elf's name, but with no success.
Cire felt himself go cold. "Not again." He whispered. He quickly dismounted and raced to the limp figure lying on the ground covered in mud, and filth.
Cire knelt beside the tattered figure, his fingers touching the neck searching for signs of life, and he sighed in relief. "He is alive, but broken. We must start a fire and go in search of his brother."
"This sounds all too familiar." A man grumbled from behind Cire.
Cire snarled and stood spinning around in anger striking the man. "Do not have disrespect for the injured. His brother is out there dying of fever, and you will not question my authority!"
The man nodded surprised and in shock. "Yes milord." The man raised his arm to his mouth and wiped the small line of blood that lingered on his lips. "How are we going to recognize his brother?"
Cire knelt down beside Elrohir once again, and muttered. "Memorize this ones face, and you will not miss, Elladan." He glanced up at his captain smiling faintly. "They are twins."
His men nodded and proceeded to their mounts, while Cire gathered Elrohir in his arms and carried him to a soft patch of grass. He gently laid the broken body of the elf onto the ground, shaking his head at the sight of the fair one. Elrohir's eyes were closed, one side of his face swollen and bruised. One of his eyes was black and swollen shut. His ankle, which had been healing nicely, had been broken once again, and now his knee appeared to be shattered also. Scrapes and bruises covered the right side of the elf's form, and a small line of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth trickling into the dark hair.
"You have really done it this time." Cire muttered softly. He gathered a damp cloth into his hands and began cleaning the wounds carefully. Grit and sand covered the cloth earning it being rinsed numerous times before the elf was at least recognizable. Cire pried the elf's leggings up and a groan caused him to look up surprised.
"Saes." Elrohir softly whispered.
Cire frowned.
"Daro, saes." He whispered again.
Cire shook his head. "I don't know what that means, Elrohir!" He said exasperated.
"Stop!" The elf gasped, the effort caused him to fall into a large coughing fit.
"You have injuries that need immediate attention." Cire argued.
Elrohir shook his head furiously. "Must-" He gasped with the effort. "Have to-find, Ella." He struggled to sit up against Cire's protests.
A whiney of a horse caused his fever-wracked brain to succumb to consciousness. At first he thought it was still a dream, but the pain and heat signalled that it wasn't.
He squinted his eyes and realized that somehow he had gotten onto a horse. Frowning against the odd sensation of helplessness, he glanced around him looking for his brother. Sitting up carefully, he realized that he was nowhere near the camp. In fact he was alone, again.
The blankets that had been laid out for him were not there. The pots and pans were gone, so was the roaring fire. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes thinking this was a bad hallucination. Carefully opening his eyes, he pursed his lips confused.
"How in all of Arda did I get onto a horse without anyone noticing?" He turned his head quickly, and his world span in a haze of colours and fog. Steadying himself against the horses' neck, he pursed his lips even more. "Odd." He leaned over and whispered to the mare softly in elvish, "I suppose you have no idea where we are do you?"
Receiving no response from the horse, he sighed baffled. Feeling a bit ill, Elladan climbed down from the horses' back and placed both feet on the ground. Or so he thought. With a startled cry, he fell instead, rather then dismounting as gracefully as he had thought. Flopping onto his back, he spread his arms out beside him and stared at the darkening sky. "Why does this all seem so familiar?" He muttered quietly. Searching his brain, he closed his eyes. Before Elladan could object, he tumbled into the world of blackness again.
Cire turned his head when a faint moan reached his ears. Concerned he rose from beside the fire and wandered over to the injured elf. Lowering his hand to feel the elf's forehead, he frowned at the heat that issued from the pale face.
"Are you alright?" He whispered.
The elf muttered something in elvish and tossed his head back and forth. Cursing under his breath, Cire stood and reached for the elf's saddle pack that lay nearby. Ruffling through the bag, but finding nothing that he recognized he glanced helplessly at the battered elf. Elrohir was growing more ill the longer they sat and waited for news on the other brother who also was fever ridden and alone.
Cire stood and shook his head, there was nothing more he could do except keep the elf cool with water cloths, and feed him a ton of water to prevent dehydration. Slowly he made his way back to the fire and heated a pot of water to sterilize it. His thoughts drifted to Elladan and he wondered how the elf was fairing.
He found the back of his eyelids very appealing. They were dark, with tiny spots of light dancing around. Slowly he opened them and glanced around the sky. It was blue. Frowning, he tried to think of the color blue and why it was so special to him.
"Why is it blue?" He asked himself. "Why blue? Not grey?" He frowning searching for an answer.
No answer reached his ears however, only the moaning of the air and trees in protest. Elladan turned his head to the side and watched the trees sway in the faint breeze. Stray thoughts littered his brain but he wasn't sure what they were as they scattered uselessly around his head. To his utter amazement he realized that he could only turn his head from side to side. Laughing loudly, he tried to think of why that was. He couldn't move. His brain was muddled, and he was unusually tired. The elf wondered how long it had been since he had slept.
Even his name seemed out of place. Although when he spoke it out loud, the only name that brought a spark of memory to surface was Ella. He wasn't sure why seeing, as his name was Elladan. Still, he wondered how he knew without a doubt that his name was Elladan and not Ella. He closed his eyes again to marvel at the intricacies of his eyelids. Soon he found himself drifting down a gravel path, which felt familiar somehow. He smiled in his sleep, and followed the path for answers.