Chapter Thirteen: Reality Amongst Dreams

He slowly opened his eyes, which proved to be more work then he had anticipated. They hurt, and throbbed painfully. Blinking rapidly through his fevered brain he tried to focus on his surroundings. He was at first uncertain as to where he was, but thinking hard on his dreams, he knew instantly he was in unfriendly company.

Startled as to how he got into his predicament, he attempted to sit up. Falling back against the sharp rock bed that had been made for him, he whimpered against the many injuries he sustained. Breathing in deeply, he moved his eyes to seek out any movement, catching none; he glanced down at his battered form.

His hands were bound in front of him, lying on top of his exposed chest. Dried blood covered his torso, and his hands. Both his hands were white and a slight shade of grey from being bound for either too long, or lack of circulation. Pursing his lips, he tried to clear his mind on a way to escape before his captives returned.

He closed his eyes when a loud branch snapped in the distance, and he knew he was too late to free himself. He also knew that in his present condition he would not make it far in the wilderness. Instead, he fell back into his dreams, and tried to keep himself from the blackened path that had begun to form there rather then the colourful ones he and his brother shared on the rarest occasion.

To his utter horror, his dreams were filled with a startling red rather then the black he had become accustomed to. Racing down the path, he made his way to a light grey colour and caught sight of a severing strand. Frowning with concern, he called out to his brother. Not expecting a response, he watched as he and his brother's shared bond came unravelled. Calling out again he pushed his fae towards the light and caught sight of a thin golden strand, and grasped it between his hands pulling with all the strength he possessed.

Elrohir stood in the middle of his room when his world suddenly slipped out from underneath him. Giving out a startled exclamation, he fell to his back knocking his head against the floorboards sharply. The door to his room slammed open revealing his father, and another elf he didn't remember. Groaning, he rolled over and shook his head.

Elrond raced to his son's side and helped him sit up. "What happened?"

Shaking his head confused he murmured. "I am uncertain, I was fine then I seemed to have lost my footing."

Elrond helped his son stand and guided him to his bed. "You must rest. You are still not fully recovered."

Elrohir nodded and glanced at his father curiously. "Any news of Elladan?"

Before Elrond could respond he watched as his son's eyes rolled into the back of his head and slipped from consciousness completely.

Something felt familiar, he wasn't sure as to what, but he followed the slight pull on his fae. As he came towards the darkened path he caught sight of something he thought he would never see again. It was his brother. Giving out a cry of joy, he quickened his approach and tried to take his brother's hand in his. A wall separated them, and both stood there wearing matching looks of despair.

Elladan smiled wanly, the fear clearly written across his face. His eyes held sadness and loss.

Elrohir felt his eyes fill with tears as the twin's fae's cried out in their own grief at the separation. Slowly, Elrohir placed his hand on the invisible wall and looked up to meet his brother's eyes. Slowly he mouthed the words he needed to ask.

"Where are you?"

His brother shook his head. Glancing around him a look of terror passed over his face, before it was quickly masked. Elrohir made out the words his brother whispered before smiling once more and retreating into his own darkness. "They come."

Crying out in desperation, Elrohir banged his fist against the wall. His anger, grief and fear over took all reason and he finally heard an audible crack. Stopping instantly, he took a step back holding his breath. Glancing around him quickly, he caught sight of the small hairline tear in the wall. Grinning madly, he began slamming his fist against the invisible barrier with a fury he had never felt emerge from his body.

He awoke to a sharp kick in his side, hissing in a breath of pain, he felt a rib crack from the impact. Another kick caused his rib to snap. He was pulled roughly to his feet and was pushed forward. Crying out in agony as his feet hit the ground, he felt bone grind against bone, signalling both his feet were broken. Falling to the ground face first, he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Instantly pulled to his feet again, he was once again shoved forward. Holding back the cry that threatened to escape his lips, he ground his teeth together and barred his teeth in a feral growl at the fowl beasts that tormented him.

The orks laughed with glee at the pain-etched features of the elf, and continued to push his back and forth amongst the others who had gathered in a large circle. One after another they pushed the elf, some landing punches and kicks as he passed by them. Others poked at his with hit sticks they had gathered from the nearby fire. Another took up a large solid branch and swung it hitting the elf squarely across the face, causing the grin to be replaced by a stunningly beautiful wince. One ork watched silently as the branch hit the elf, causing the elf's mouth to split, and fresh blood to drip.

Elladan felt the branch connect with his face and it took all his will power to remain standing, and not cry out in pain as he felt his cheek crack and his lip to split open. Hot brands touched his bare torso searing his flesh. His feet became numb and the only thing he comprehended outside the pain was that the orks were not going to allow him to live. They were going to torture him to near death, allow him to heal some, then torment him some more until they had their fill and finally torture him to death. However, he was not going to allow them the pleasure of an easy kill, he would fight until he had no strength left to fight. He owed that much to his brother, and his parents back in Rivendell.

Strong arms embraced him easing the pain and anguish he felt tearing at his fae. Sobbing against his father's robe, Elrohir clenched the silk cloth in his fists. "They are killing him, I do not know who they are, but he is afraid." He sobbed brokenly.

"Shush, Elrohir. We will find him. I promise you that." Elrond closed his eyes resting his chin against the top of his son's head. Silently, he added. 'We will find him dead or alive.'

Elrond felt his son relax some against him and he smiled. Placing his hand on his youngest son's forehead, he whispered for healing sleep. His son's body relaxed into sleep and his eyes slipped closed slowly. Only a small frown played across his lips as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Elrond placed his son back onto the mattress and covered him in a light sheet. Once satisfied that his son was asleep, Elrond wandered to the window and looked out across the fields of green, praying to the Valar that his son would be found long before death took him. He prayed that the young prince of Mirkwood found speed and agility in the wilds, and prayed that his father, King Thranduil would not flay him alive when he found out the Lord of Rivendell sent his child out into the wilds alone.

Elrond didn't know how long he stood there watching the silent star of his father drift across the sky, but turned his attention back to his son when whimpers grabbed his attention. Walking back to his son's bedside, Elrond took up a book and began reading aloud allowing his son to hear his words, of peace and hope.

Legolas raced through the woods just outside of Rivendell, his horse holding her stamina perfectly, as all elven horses did. It had been a full day since he had raced from the stables, and he knew that his guards were inside gathering refreshments. Smiling to himself, he felt the joy of freedom, which was seldom felt amongst the royal family. His first real adventure to find the eldest son of Elrond was going to be a tough and trying one, but he knew with the skills he had gained over the past year would prove to be useful in the present situation.

He continued to gallop through the trees, and smiled to himself. What would his father do once he found out? How would his father react to his disobeying of his orders? Shivering slightly, Legolas dislodged those thoughts until a later time. His most pressing matter now was to find Elladan before it was too late.