With a groan, Estel tried to push himself to his feet. The near crushing weight on his back, combined with the searing flash of pain that ran up his left arm quickly foiled this attempt. He groaned once more, feeling the full impact of a grown warg on his back. It was difficult to breath in such a postion. Not only because his ribs were rapidly being squashed, but because of the smell.
Ignoring the pain in his arm, the wiry teenager quickly wriggled and twisted, almost desperate to escape his stifling confinement. It took several minutes, but he eventually succeeded in dragging himself from under the body of the warg.
Exhausted, he leaned against the side of the pit, trying to catch his breath. He glanced at the warg once, swallowed hard, and quickly looked away. It wasn't a pretty sight. One of the branches that had concealed the hole had pierced the animal as he fell, stabbing all the way through his loathsome body. A bit of it stuck out through the coarse fur of the creature's back, like a javelin.
The sight made the young boy almost ill. Not for any concern for the warg…but he realized how close he had come to being skewered as well. It was not a pleasant thought.
Estel quickly pushed such thoughts away, turning his mind to the problem before him. How was he to get out? Though the pit was not very deep, the edge was still several feet above his head.
The boy dug his right hand into the side experimentally. The dirt gave beneath his fingers, allowing him to scoop out a handful.
The inklings of an idea formed in his mind.
0-0-0-0
"Estel."
Elrohir gazed at his older brother with a mixture of confusion, and hope. "Elladan, the dream we shared so long ago…could Estel be alive?" His grey eyes begged his twin to confirm what he wished to be true. "Dan?"
Elladan leaned his head back against the tree he and his brother were tied to. He sighed softly and closed his eyes. Both of the twins were bruised and bloody, but not to an extent where they would need a great deal of healing. The orcs had done their job well. Elrond's son's felt weak and ill from the injuries they had sustained, but both were quite capable of traveling.
The dark haired elf sighed once more. "I don't know." He wanted to believe that Estel was alive…Valar! He would give anything to know that his little brother still lived! But…neither he nor his brother had ever experienced their father's level of foresight. And the dream had been so long ago. It could be that Estel was alive.
Or it could be just a dream.
Elladan felt tears prick his closed eyelids. "I don't know."
0-0-0-0
Estel winced and gasped as he dragged himself up another foot. For the past half hour he had been slowly hoisting his body up out of the pit, digging his hands and feet into the soft soil and climbing like a monkey.
Had he not been injured, he would have been up and out in less than five minutes. His left arm was slowing things down considerably. 'Oh really!' a small voice (that sounded remarkably like Elladan) spoke up from the back of his mind. 'I thought injuries would speed things up a bit…'
"Shut up," Estel snarled through gritted teeth, digging his injured arm in once more and pulling. The pain that shot down his limb nearly made him cry out, but he clenched his jaw tightly and continued.
Finally, with a last heave, the boy pulled himself up over the edge. He lay in a huddled ball for a moment, breathing hard and cradling his left arm. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, and he realized with a vague sense of shame that he was very close to passing out.
Moving slowly, the wiry teenager carefully ran the fingers of his right hand over his injury, trying to ascertain the level of damage. He winced as he felt a sticky warmth. The wound was bleeding rather freely. Estel squinted down at his arm, but he simply could not see in the darkness that had fallen.
By some miracle, he had actually remembered to retrieve his dagger before climbing from the pit. Quickly, he drew it from his belt and cut a strip of cloth from his own shirt. It would serve as a rough bandage for the moment.
After winding the strip around his forearm and clumsily tying it with one hand, Estel pushed himself to his feet. He had to continue on to Rivendell.
Wherever that was.
A cold chill crept into the boy's stomach as he realized…he was lost. He did not even know which side of the pit he had crawled out of, and with the darkness, he could not see well enough to recognize any familiar landmarks.
'All right, stay calm, your brothers taught you to navigate by the stars, remember?' Estel hopefully looked up to the sky.
It was cloudy. He could't even see the moon.
Isildur's heir swallowed hard, cast a fervent prayer to the Valar asking that they guide his steps…
…and blindly plunged forward.
0-0-0-0
"I doesn't look like we're leaving tonight, does it?" Elrohir cast disgusted eyes at the crowd of orcs, his voice barely more than a whisper of sound,
"Of course not." Elladan kept his expression veiled so as not to antagonize their captors, but his whisper was loaded with contempt. "The yrch are celebrating. They must have their fun after all. And they won't travel in the sun, so I would count on staying where we are until tomorrow night."
Elrohir's eyebrows drew together as he thought. "Then we will have until tomorrow night to plan an escape."
A tight smile pulled at the corner's of the elder twin's mouth. "Exactly."
The two elves fell silent, both lost in their own thoughts.
Elladan felt his blood boil as he gazed at the orcs. Though their leader had declared they were celebrating the capture of two elf slaves, Elladan could see the truth marked across his ugly face.
He, in particular, was rejoicing over Estel's death.
Estel. The young elf lord forced himself to look away from the gloating expression Rashneg wore. Was the dream real? Was his brother still alive? Perhaps…just perhaps. He could not be sure. It had been a dream, and like all dreams, faded as the sleeper came back to reality. And yet, for some reason, he remembered it after all these years. He knew that the boy had been Estel.
But what did that mean? Maybe Estel way lying in a hole somewhere, dying, needing help…maybe it was too late.
0-0-0-0
Maybe, maybe.
Thoughts very similar to his twin's raced through Elrohir's head. The shared dream teased him, sparking his hope, but giving no substance to rely on. Nothing firm or concrete to grasp at. Just a whisp of a dream. Insubstantial and fragile.
For the first time, the dark haired elf wished for his father's gift of foresight. He had never before wanted such a thing. He could see how heavily the burden lay on Lord Elrond at times. He had seen the sadness that would creep into the gray eyes…or the weariness. There were moments when he knew his father wished for nothing more than to flee his gift and sail to Valinor.
But now the younger twin yearned to know what had happened to his brother. Whether good or bad, he simply wanted to know.
0-0-0-0
Estel blinked rapidly, half convinced he was seeing things.
Half expecting the flicker of light he saw before him to fade and die. But no, it remained, burning steadily. A fire.
The slender youth felt a surge of hope. While it was not Rivendell, perhaps whoever lit this fire could help him. The humans who lived near the elven refure were friendly for the most part. Most of them appreciated the protection afforded by living close to the elves.
Of course, these could be bandits…Estel bit his lip. Eventually, he decided to get closer and catch a glimpse of whoever these people were. Once he knew, he would decide whether or not to appeal to them for help. A small smile flickered over the boy's face for an instant. Three years ago, a hobbit accompanied by Gandalf and a group of dwarves had rested in Elrond's home. Estel had learned from their tales not to go rushing toward any old fire!
He could hear voices now…faintly. Very faintly. For some reason, instead of cheering the youth, he felt a shiver of dread race down his spine.
0-0-0-0
Elrohir squinted slightly, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. The orcs had lit an enormous bonfie as part of their 'celebration'. For a moment, he could have sworn he had seen something move in the shadows beyond the fire's light. The young elf lord blinked and shook his head. The flickering light must be playing with his vision.
"What is it?" Elladan glanced sideways at his brother. "What is the matter?"
"Nothing," Elrohir replied in a distracted tone of voice, his eyes straining to see beyond the fire's orange circle.
"Liar," Elladan scowled impatiently. "If it were nothing, you would not be looking for something."
"Fine, you are right. I lied."
The was a moment's worth of silence. Elladan's scowl deepened. "And?"
"And what?"
The elder twin sighed deeply. "Were my hands free, I would strangle you."
Elrohir grinned. "No you would not."
"Would you like to find out?" Elladan asked darkly. "If not, I suggest you tell me what you were looking for."
"Really, Gwanor," Elrohir protested. "It was nothing…That is, I thought I saw something move there," The twin tilted his head, indicating what direction to look. "But it was nothing. Just the fire light playing tricks on my eyes."
Elrond's eldest looked doubtfully at the patch of woods Elrohir had been gazing at so intently. "I am not so sure…I thought I saw something as well…" His words came to a halt, as though he was reluctant to say more.
Elrohir sighed softly and leaned his head back against the tree trunk. "fim a linte?" he asked softly, desperately hoping the answer would be a negative.
Unfortunately, his hope was in vain.
Elladan nodded briefly. "Fin mor," The elder twin replied grimly. "Hen celebrin." For a moment, a spasm of frustration twisted the elf's features. "A ar gelydh."
The two groaned in unison, the word on their lips floating out into the night.
"Estel."
0-0-0-0
Estel watched the orcs cavort around their fire, his expression almost rock like in its impassiveness. This merely served to strengthen the theory he had come up with.
Obviously, the Valar hated him. Though why they must hate him so incredibly much he could never quite fathom. After all, it wasn't as if he ever tried to do anything to offend them. On purpose, anyway. Perhaps he was being punished for the sins of his ancestors.
Who were his ancestors, the boy wondered sourly, and what could they have possibly done to cause such wrath to be poured out on his head? 'Whatever it was,' he thought desperately, 'it wasn't my fault!'
Slowly, he backed away into the shadows, hoping to put some distance between himself and the creatures before he broke into a run.
"Estel."
The youth froze, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He could not have heard his name. It had to have been a trick of the wind. It had to be.
His silver eyes raked the circle of the fire's light. Searching. He knew that the light would effectively blind the orcs should they try to look into the darkness surrounding them. He was hidden from their view.
It had to be a trick…he couldn't have heard it.
There. His eyes rested on the two being he had been searching for. A wild desire to be violently ill, or faint seized him. He swallowed hard and pushed the urge away, knowing that any sound could betray him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he allowed his knees to buckle until he was sitting on the forest floor, his silver eyes fastened on two dark haired elves. Tears blurred his vision, and he did not stop them from spilling down his cheeks.
His brothers…oh his brothers…
It was not the ropes that horrified him so completely, nor even their inuries, but the looks on their faces. They were without hope. An almost tangible air of defeat seemed to emanate from their normally proud forms.
Estel's lips began to move, his mouth forming words with no sound as tears rolled down his face, their salt stinging his wounds. "Nai, gwenyr nin! Man na hi dae aeg?"
Resolve filled the youth as he straightened slightly. A spark of light woke within his eyes. Carefully, he rose to his feet and retreated further into the woods, the whisper of a promise hanging in the air behind him.
"U-dregathon ar le, gwenyr nin."
0-0-0-0
Rashneg yawned widely, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth. It had been a good night. The orc leader felt contented and sleepy, his wits dulled by the large amount of orc liquor he had consumed. They would stay here through the day. Now that he had a gift to assuage his king's wrath, the orc saw no need to force himself and his soldiers to travel through the sun's light.
He hissed slightly as he gazed at the sky. It was brightening quickly. Already the dark blue of night had been replaced with gray, and there was a hint of red on the eastern horizon that Rashneg did not like.
The orc captain lazily snapped at two of his soldiers nearby, commanding them to watch over the elves. "You can wake someone else at midday," he snarled as they protested.
Rashneg grinned widely as he watched the two sulk over to the prisoners. Everything was going perfectly. He had captured two elves. The human with the disturbing eyes was dead. Never mind how many of his command had died as well. It wasn't important.
Feeling well pleased with himself, the orc rolled over, covered his face against the sun's rays and fell into a deep sleep.
Perhaps he would not have slept so deeply had he looked into the tree's shadows behind him.
Silver eyes blinked from the depths of the wood, the new sun sparkling in their gleaming surface.
0-0-0-0
Estel shifted, rising from his crouched position. The boy winced slightly as blood rushed to his feet, waking them from the sleep they had fallen into several hours ago.
Still, the throbbing tingling pain was nothing compared to the pain in his arm.
Just the thought seemed to send a fresh wave all the way up to his shoulder. The slender youth bit his lip hard, forcing a cry back down his throat. He could not afford the luxury of making a sound. Even if the orcs were to inebriated to hear, the warg would catch him out.
Ah yes. The warg.
Estel shuddered. He did not relish the though of facing another of the evil creatures. Silver eyes flickered back and forth, taking in the entirety of the orc's camp. Most of the foul beings were already asleep, their snores warning anyone within a mile's radius of their presence. In fact, only the two gaurding his brothers were still fighting against the soporific effect of the orc liquor they had consumed. Estel was relieved to note that the warg was caught in slumber as well, and as far away from his brothers as possible. Thank the Valar for small favors. Or perhaps, he thought with a humorless smile, they figured the owed him one.
His arm throbbed again, forcing a small gasp through the boy's lips. An odd chill shook the wiry teenager. His teeth chattered slightly until he ground them together. What was wrong with him? He felt so cold…one slender hand swiped at his face and came away dripping with sweat.
Sweating, yet chilled…the symptoms struck a chord within Estel's memory. Something he father had taught him about fevers… 'No,' the boy thought desperately, his hand automatically reaching for his arm. 'Not now! Please oh please oh please not now!'
His fingers shook slightly as he tugged at the makeshift bandage. 'Please, please, please…'
Haste did not combine well with gentleness, so Estel was forced to sacrifice one for the other. Biting his lip hard, he unwound the cloth strip quickly and roughly. The pain brought tears to his eyes. Blinking them back and breathing hard, he looked down… 'Please…'
The sight that met his gaze made him swallow hard and rebind the wound. . Definitely infected. It needed to be washed and sterilized as quickly as possible. The best way to do that would be to cauterize it…the youth winced as he knotted the bandage.
It would have to wait. Estel cradled his wounded arm close to his body, unconsciously hunching his shoulders in an attempt to stave off a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He had gotten his brothers into this mess.
And he would get them out.
0-0-0-0
Elladan watched as the orc guard's head drooped lower and lower, only to be jerked up again as the miserable creature caught himself. The other orc had already succumbed to a heavy sleep. His snores joined those of his comrades.
The dark haired elf was sure that the sound would soon drive him mad.
Something moved at the edge of the trees. Elladan felt his heart leap into his throat as he realized what that something was…
Estel crept from the shadows of the wood, looking very much the worse for wear. His face was bruised and scratched, his left arm crudely bandaged and held close to his body. A dagger was held at the ready in his uninjured hand.
'Valar, he cannot be serious!' Through great effort of will, Elladan forced his features to remain calm. The young elf lord bit hard on his lip and watched in agony as Estel crept across the orc camp, almost tip toeing through the tangle of sleeping troops. Elladan desperately wished to close his eyes. Any moment now Estel's adolescent clumsiness would establish itself. He would trip, fall across one of the orcs and then it would be all over.
"Elrohir," Elladan whispered out of the corner of his mouth. It was less than a breath of sound. Far too quiet for the nodding sentry to hear. "Tiro."
"Man na den?" Even as he asked the question, Elrohir was turning his head to look in the direction his twin was staring.
Elladan nearly groaned as he saw Estel stumble slightly. "Gwanor vin."
0-0-0-0
Estel caught his brothers' gaze and tried to grin through the chills that shook his slender frame. Elrohir swallowed hard, his gray eyes wide with horror. Elladan did not look too please either.
With an effort, the young boy pulled his attention away from his brothers and focused on the task at hand. Namely, getting close enough to the sleepy guard to stab him without drawing his, or any other orc's attention. So far everything had gone well. He had made it across the camp succesfully and was almost within striking distance of his target…
Estel raised his dagger high, preparing to bring it down with killing force. He took another step…
…and tripped over his own feet. The unfortunate boy fell forward into the sentry with a strangled sort of gasp.
By some stroke of sheer luck, the outstretched dagger plunged into the back of the orc's neck, severing his spinal chord and killing him instantly. Not to mention, silently. Orc and youth fell to the ground together. For several moments, Estel lay perfectly motionless, his eyes wide as he tried to stem the shriek of pain that fought to rip from his throat. He had fallen with his left arm curled around his midsection, trapping it between his body and his enemy's. The pressure on the wound was nearly unbearable.
Remarkably, he managed to stay silent.
Estel finally pushed himself to his feet, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his face drawn and white. With a grimace of distaste, he pulled his dagger free and staggered toward his brothers.
0-0-0-0
Elrohir felt nearly sick with tension as he watched his little brother rise. Had the youth been an inch to the left or the right, or had he been a little farther back before he fell…The young elf lord shuddered.
The dagger quickly hacked through the twin's bonds, setting them free. For a moment, the two elves looked at their brother, an undefinable emotion playing across their faces.
As if reacting to some secret signal, they both embraced him tightly. "Idiot," Elladan whispered even as his arms tightened. "Fool," Elrohir agreed, tears stinging his eyelids. His brother was alive…alive and well…
Estel gasped.
Perhaps not.
"Man na den?" Elrohir heard his brother's pained intake of air and quickly drew back. His sharp eyes darted over the youth's frame and came to rest on the crudely bandaged arm. Before Estel could stop him, the elf was unwinding the wrapping.
As the wound was revealed, Elladan's hand flew to the boy's forehead, his gaze taking in the shivers that shook the teenager and the sweat standing out on his pale face. "A fever. We have to get you back to Rivendell as quickly as possible."
Estel acquiesed with a nod, his teeth chattering so hard it would have been difficult for him to speak.
As Elrohir swiftly tore a strip from his own (slightly cleaner) tunic, Elladan picked his way across the camp to retrieve his and Elrohir's weapons. As he stooped to collect his sword, the oddest sensation assailed him.
They should attack now…kill the orcs while the vile creatures slept! It would be so easy…
As quickly as it came, the feeling passed, leaving Elladan slightly shaken. He stared down at his own hand in confusion. It was wrapped around his sword's hilt so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
What was wrong with him? How could he even consider doing this? It would take too much time, and Estel did not have time. Besides, if they woke, they would fight…
Let them fight, he would kill…he would slay…
"No." Slightly disoriented, Elladan shook himself, scooped up their weapons and made his way back towards his brothers. Elrohir had actually stripped his tunic off and wrapped it around Estel, ignoring their little brother's protests that he was just fine.
Elladan grinned wryly as he glanced from one brother to the other. Despite the added covering of Elrohir's tunic, Estel was shivering violently. His face was unnaturally pale, and decorated with bruises. Elrohir did not look much better. The handsome elf's face was marred with scratches, his normally neat braids in tangled dissaray. Patches of blue and purple made interesting patterns on his bare torso.
'I probably,' he thought, grinning a little wider, 'do not look any more pleasant. Ada will be so pleased to see us.'
"Come," Elladan reached out a hand to aid Estel.
"Shouldn't we do something about the orcs?" Elrohir asked quietly, his eyes moving back and forth over the sleeping foe. A hungry gleam kindled in his gaze.
A strange sensation fluttered in Elladan's stomach at his twin's words. Yes…of course they should do something…
Kill.
Without truly realizing what he was doing, the dark haired elf handed Elrohir his weapons. His hands trembled slightly. They should do…something.
Kill them all.
Like ripples upon a great pond, Elladan felt a surge of dark emotion spread throughout his being. He was familiar with this emotion, oh yes. Very familiar. It had been a faithful companion to him and his brother these past 434 years. It was what drove them from Imladris every year on the first of Norui.
Now. Kill them now!
Blood pounded in his ears as Elrond's eldest raised his sword and turned towards the sleeping camp. Elrohir turned with him, an almost feral light burning in his gray eyes.
0-0-0-0
Estel saw the change fall over his brothers and felt his heart sink. Would he be forced to watch the slaughter once more? He felt sick at the very thought. He never wanted to see anything like that ever again.
The slender youth groaned softly as his arm throbbed mercilessly. It hurt so badly…but he would gladly have the pain increased ten fold, rather than watch that ugly look of joy cross his brothers' faces as they killed…as they took pleasure in their slaying. It was grotesque! It was unnatural! It was not the elves he knew, and loved, and looked up to.
The world swayed dizzingly around Estel and he felt his knees buckle. He dropped with a plop onto the ground, trying hard not to black out completely. Where were his brothers? Why couldn't he see them anymore? Everything was spinning so fast…
"Elladan," He almost whimpered, closing his eyes against the maelstrom of color that now absorbed his vision. "Elrohir…gwenyr nin…"
Darkness took him, and he knew no more.
0-0-0-0
"Gwenyr nin…"
The soft words shattered the twins' blood lust as nothing else could have.
Elrohir's head jerked around, almost as if he'd been stung, his eyes going wide as he saw his little brother's crumpled form. "Estel!" the word was barely a whisper of sound. The younger twin met his brother's gaze, recognizing Elladan's horror as a match for his own. Sweet Eru, they had almost done it again.
They had almost let their rage lead them to disregard their own brother's safety.
Elrohir almost hurled his weapons away from him and quickly knelt by the slender youth's side. With infinite care, he drew the young one into his arms, tears of shame burning his eyes. They had to get Estel back to Rivendell as quickly as possible. Obviously, their little brother's arm was worse than any of them had thought. He needed their father's care.
The younger twin had lifted Estel and was several steps away when he realized that he was not being followed. Surprised, he turned back…
…only to see Elladan, still holding his weapons, his gray eyes fixed on the orcs they had both sworn to destroy.
With a shock, Elrohir suddenly understood that Elladan still wanted to stay. He wanted to kill the vermin whose kind had taken their mother. Even more disturbing, Elrohir felt the pull of the old darkness as well. Even with his younger brother unconscious and wounded in his arms, he wanted to go back.
Had his rage truly taken such a hold on his soul? Did it seek to claim his twin as well? He glanced down at Estel's pale face, wincing as he saw the lines of pain still traced across it.
Who else did it wish to destroy?
And would he allow it?
"Elladan," he said firmly. "Túl. Estel aniron met nev."
With a shuddering breath that sounded almost like a sob, Elladan sheathed his sword and strode towards his brothers. "Come," he said softly as he reached them. "Let's get him back home."
It may have been his imagination, but Elrohir would later swear that he felt an incredible weight lift from his shoulders as he walked away from his enemy.
Neither he, nor Elladan ever looked back.
0-0-0-0
Fim a linte?- Slender and swift?
Fin mor. Hen celebrin. A ar gelydh.- Dark hair. Silver eyes. And without wisdom.
Yrch- Orcs.
Nai, gwenyr nin! Man na hi dae aeg?- Alas, my brothers! What is this fell shadow?
U-dregathon ar le, gwenyr nin.- I will not flee without you, my brothers.
Man na den?- What is it?
Gwanor vin-Our brother
Tiro- Look
Túl. Estel aniron met nev.- Come. Estel desires us two hither.
0-0-0-0