Chapter 2

"Elros!" little Elrond shouted when he spotted his brother. He had just chosen the best herbs for dinner when someone he heard shouting and yelling coming from the centre of the town. He had run back only to nearly stumble over the lifeless body of Lhimё, a fisherman. Elrond had knelt down and touched the Man's face. He had never seen a dead person. Only then did he realise that his trousers were being soaked in blood. Disgusted, he had jumped up and stared at disbelief at the red liquid trickling away into the ground, staining the earth.

Shell-shocked, he began to search for his brother until he finally saw his double running away from the weaver's shop. They nearly bumped into each other.

"What the hell is happening?" Elros asked.

"I don't know. Where is mum?"

"I haven't seen her." Both boys looked hastily around.

"She'll probably be looking for us. You were near the fields, I was in the herb garden. The fields are closer, she will look first there," Elrond said. He took his brothers hand, and together they ran towards the edge of the town. They suddenly crossed an alley where two elves fought with swords. When the town's smithy saw them, he was distracted for a second and Maglor bore his sword deep into the elf's chest. Elros screamed, but Elrond did not move. He was too shocked by the pure violence that he had never before seen in his life. The smithy fell onto his knees and then straight onto the ground. Maglor, a tall elf with very dark hair, now began to walk towards the twins.

Elrond squeezed his brother's hand and the two began to run into the opposite direction. They heard the pace hasten behind them and loosened their grip. Elrond did not see where he was going any more and suddenly, he realised that his brother was not next to him. He wanted to stop and turn around but realised that the evil elf would still be behind him. Lost in what he thought and did, he tripped and fell. He tumbled down a flight of stairs and stopped right at the passage between the lookout tower and the Men's barber shop. Maglor caught up to him and realising that Elrond was trapped as behind him was a 15 metres drop to the ocean, he began to slow down.

"What do you want?" Elrond whimpered.

Maglor raised his sword. But before he could answer, he heard his brother's voice from high above him.

"Give me the necklace, bitch!" Maedhros was heard shouting.

The answer was inaudible. But Elrond knew. He suddenly knew that the necklace these evil elves were after was Nauglamír, the necklace his mother wore. And he knew that it was his mother up there on the tower, being threatened with her life. And a few second before it happened, he saw his mother falling down the tower. He thought she had fallen and turned, but only then did she actually jump into the thunderous waves.

"Mum!" Elrond shouted. He ran to the railing and reached out. But it was too late. The white dress and the shimmering Silmaril were eaten by the deadly waves together with his mother. He sank down onto his knees. He did not realise yet that the first time he had seen the fall was a premonition, a vision of the future. He did not realise yet what weight the Silmarils carried in the history of the world or how the history of this particular Silmaril would go on. He did not even realise that Maglor put his hand on his shoulder. Silent tears flowed down Elrond's face. His throat was dry. He did not feel a thing. Not the earth under his trousers, not the wind blowing his hair in all directions, not Maglor's hand grabbing his arm and yanking him onto his feet. Without much resistance did he follow Maglor's dragging and only when he was thrown down onto the pavement of the market place, not far from the fountain, did Elrond come back to his senses.

His brother. Where was Elros? Anxiously he looked around. There he was! He crawled over to his brother who was sitting on the floor, his head buried between his knees.

"Elros!" Elrond whispered. He looked around. All survivors of the massacre were apparently brought here.

"Elrond?" Elros whispered back in disbelief. Then he looked up and hugged him immediately. "Oh, Elrond. Are you hurt?"

Elrond did not understand until he looked down. His trousers were soaked in blood, luckily not his own. His sleeve was bloodstained, and this time it was his. He had hurt himself when he had tumbled down the stairs, but in the heat of the moment, he had not noticed.

"Mother is dead," he suddenly said.

Elros stared at him.

Suddenly, a scream tore their moment of realisation apart. The evil elves had started killing the survivors one after another. The tallest of the brothers, only two were there left, then came to the twins. He raised his sword, but he was held back by his brother.

"They are the sons of Elwing," Maglor explained.

Maedhros hesitated. "Even more of a reason to kill them," he muttered.

"If their father comes looking for them, we might find out what happened to the Silmaril."

The older elf eyeballed the young boys. "What are your names?" he asked.

"Elrond."

"Elros."

"Elrond and Elros… we take them with us," Maedhros decided and signalled one of his disciples. "Bind them up and put them on Maglor's and my horses."

Elrond and Elros could not protest. Their hands were bound together, and they were heaved on two dark-brown horses. Elrond's eyes were filled with water. He watched the elves finish killing the survivors and then Maedhros climbed behind him onto the horse. The last thing that Elrond saw of his home was the fish stand of the market giving weight to the fire and crushing down onto the slain bodies of his friends. Then he closed his eyes and felt the tears watering his cheeks.

Please tell me what you think so far, and whether you want to read more about child-Elrond or young-adult-Elrond.