Heads shot up as a bowl crashed to the floor. Elladan and Elrohir looked up sharply to their father as he seemed to sag against the table.
"Ada!" the two cried, and got up to rush to Elrond's side. The twins were alarmed to see all the color drained from Elrond's face, and they were concerned as his breathing increased laboriously. He was clutching the ends of the table with white-knuckled fists, and his eyes were staring straight ahead at nothing.
Elladan and Elrohir glanced to each other worriedly, and then attempted to get their father's full attention.
"Ada?" the elven lord finally shook himself hard and then nearly jerked as he looked to his twin sons. Focusing his eyes on their identical faces, the half-elf could barely get his words past the ever-growing lump in his throat.
"Estel and Legolas, they are in grave danger! I don't know what, but they are in trouble." Elladan looked to Elrond with a half distressed glance. They both knew of their younger brother's plight, for Elrond had explained everything to them once Aragorn had left for Mirkwood. The twins had been set on going after their little mortal brother, but Elrond had stopped them. For some unexplainable reason, the elven lord had known that he would need his warrior sons with him, in Rivendell.
Elrohir looked to Elladan skeptically and remarked, "Ada, how can you be certain? We know not what has happened to Estel or to Legolas. They could be on their way to Rivendell; we have no way of knowing." Elrond shook his head, adamantly denying his son's assumption.
"No, they are in danger. It seems that the evil that overtook Legolas now has Estel. The only thing is that I have no idea of how to going about rescuing them. I have this feeling that they are not the only ones in jeopardy. We must prepare, my sons, for the enemy is coming."
:0Ж0:
Halbarad helped his son keep his balance as they made their way through the brush, both their wounds having been seen to back at the ranger camp. Now, leading a new group of warriors, they had set out to look for their missing chieftain and the elven prince.
"Are you certain you don't know which ruins they went to?" the second-in-command asked once more. Anders almost rolled his eyes, and tried pulling his arm from around his father's shoulders once more. Halbarad kept a steady hand on his son, and continued to pull Anders along. Behind them, the other rangers kept watch for any remnants of the orc company.
Silence reigning for a time, Anders broke it with a simple question filled with meaning.
"How do you think we'll find them, Father?" Halbarad looked over to once of the last ruins they needed to check, and didn't give his son an answer for a long time.
"I'm just hoping for alive right now, Anders. That right now would be a miracle." The younger man didn't say anything else as they drew closer and closer. The darkness was starting to over power the land and the rangers needed to light torches to be able to see. Claiming one, Anders let his father lead as they came to the steps.
Climbing each step painfully, the two finally came to the inside. Waving the torch around, Anders was startled when it came to light on the still bodies of those they were looking for.
"Strider!" crying out, Halbarad braced his only child against a wall as he moved for his best friend's side. Kneeling next to the barely coherent ranger, Halbarad gently brushed back some hair from Aragorn's forehead.
"My friend, speak to me!" Aragorn's eyes fluttered, and he unconsciously drew Legolas closer to his own injured body. Holding his friend as close as he could, he squinted at Halbarad, and then a tired smile stretched across his face.
"Mae Govannen /well met, Halbarad. It is good to see you again. Half expected you to be dead by now." He said jokingly, but that was cut off as violent coughs began to overtake him. Halbarad, a gentle hand resting on the wearied shoulder, looked worriedly to his oldest friend.
"Nay, my friend, it seems that you are mistaken. I am not the one to be worried about this time." Scanning his eyes over his friend's injured body, sadness settled within their depths. "Oh, Strider, what did they do to you?" then, looking down to Legolas, his gaze shot back up to Aragorn.
"Is he...?" Aragorn shook his head as much as he could, and then nearly bent over with the force of his coughs.
"No, Legolas still lives, but just barely." A pleading expression tore across his face, and pulled at the other ranger's heart. "Help him, Halbarad. He is this way because of me. Save him." Then, with those last words, Aragorn's gray eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he passed out.
Halbarad caught him, and looked to one of his rangers behind him. "Take the prince, and make sure you take care of him as if he were one of our own." He then gently placed Legolas into the care of his most trusted warriors, and then turned back to Aragorn. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the blood running from numerous wounds on Aragorn's body, and the severity of the injuries.
Barely moving the remaining tunic aside, the ranger was surprised to see the gaping wound in Aragorn's abdomen. Crying out in alarm, Halbarad gathered Aragorn into his arms, and took off for the entrance of the ruins.
Nearly running into Kalmoth as he entered, Halbarad did not give the younger man a second glance, nor wonder as to his whereabouts. Instead, he barked an order.
"Help Anders back to the camp." Then, he hurried as fast as his legs could carry him towards the ranger encampment.
Kalmoth was not surprised at the harshness of Halbarad's order, but at the state Strider had found himself in once again. Sighing, he walked in further, and saw Anders leaning shakily against one of the crumbled pillars. Standing beside the older man, Kalmoth gently placed a hand on Anders's shoulder. Halbarad's son jerked noticeably.
Turning to face Kalmoth, he could barely keep back a cry. "Oh, Kalmoth, did you see them? It will be a miracle from the Valar if they make it past tonight." Anders's silent sobs shook Kalmoth, and he put a comforting arm around the other man's shoulders.
"Everything will be okay, Anders. You'll see. Strider and Prince Legolas are the most resilient people I know, and nothing like this will keep them down. Nothing." Anders looked to Kalmoth, and indicated that he wanted to leave.
Heading for the stairs, Kalmoth barely heard Anders's response.
"No, and nothing will keep Estel from defending Rivendell, either."
:0Ж0:
In the healers' tent, Anders waited impatiently as the head healer carefully looked over his leg. The son of Halbarad was in a foul mood, for he had been forced by his own father and men to see the healers. They had literally dragged him in here for treatment. Opposite to what his men and Halbarad thought, Anders was not trying to avoid the healers for his own benefit or not. No, he wanted to be out of the way so the trained medical people could have their room with Strider and Legolas without anyone else to hinder them.
However, after nearly three days, Anders's leg had become badly infected. Not even being able to walk on the appendage any longer, Anders had been unable to report for sentry duty, so therefore everyone had known that something was wrong with his or her young ranger friend.
Halbarad had felt guilty for neglecting his son's wound in his worry for his oldest friend. So, now, the second-in-command had forced Anders to see the healers. That led to Anders foul mood in dealing with the rangers' healers.
"No! Get away, its fine!" he finally barked as one yanked his injured leg in the wrong way so that excruciating waves of agony went up his leg. "I will take care of my own wounds without you all trying to kill me as I heal!"
The healers did not look concerned in the slightest at Anders's exploding anger. They were used to the strong rangers trying to appear as if any of their injuries did not concern them. Frankly, they wanted to hurry up and finish treating him so that they could get back to their other, cooperating, patients. Of course, the only reason Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Prince Legolas Greenleaf were listening was the unconscious states both were currently trapped within.
Anders gave up trying to fight, and looked sadly to the cots within the tent. Aragorn and Legolas lay silently on their own beds, and neither one-showed signs of waking.
Aragorn was suffering from blood loss from the deep wound in his stomach, and fighting infection from the horrendous wounds to his legs. Anders was still amazed that his chieftain had been able to get the elven prince and himself to the ruins without being caught by the enemy. It was surprising that Aragorn had been able to walk at all with the wounds to his legs.
Legolas, though, gave them all cause for worry. The elf had been unconscious since before they had stormed the camp of the orcs and hill men, and had not as much twitched. The gaping wound from Freca's brass knuckles caused the healers to fear for the immortal being's life. Nevertheless, the wounds decorating every other part of Legolas' strong body weakened it enough that the elf's natural healing abilities were not functioning properly.
Legolas' back was obviously injured severely. The swelling around the small of the elf's back alarmed the rangers' healers, and they were dismayed at being unable to try to do something so that Legolas would not lose the use of his lower body.
The elf's arm was also cause for worry, but it, they could do something about. Stitching the wounds together and repairing the ripped tissue and muscle, the healers were confident that the elf would not lose his left arm as well, and be able to use it for the archery he loved.
The internal bleeding had been dealt with, too, as well as the other wounds that the hill men and orcs had inflicted on their prisoner. The healers had been amazed that the elf had lived. Unfortunately, it looked as if Legolas would not regain consciousness for quite some time.
Anders looked up from the overly pale face of the elf prince, and his eyes shot to the waking figure of Aragorn. Nearly knocking the healers over in his haste, Anders rushed to Strider's side.
"Strider? Are you awake?" he asked anxiously. Aragorn's gray eyes showed his grogginess, and he could barely focus on the son of one of his closest friends. Smiling uneasily, Aragorn raised himself off the cot he was laying on, and looked right to the other ranger.
"What happened? Where are..." then, everything came back to him in a rush. "Legolas!" looking around panicked for his best friend, the ranger did not relax when his eyes came to rest on the battered form of Legolas.
"Oh, mellon nín." Attempting to climb off the bed, he cried out as his stomach muscles protested against movement. Anders gently pushed him down.
"Strider, you practically got your insides torn apart. Rest and heal; Legolas will be fine." Aragorn looked to him, but conceded for the time being. He knew as a healer that his own injuries would prohibit him greatly in the care of his best friend, and that the healers of the rangers would do the best job they could for the elf. Right now, Legolas' wounds would have to bear being treated by the second race.
Still sitting on the edge of his cot, Aragorn's head snapped up, as he looked right up to Anders. For the younger man's part, he was startled when Strider's suddenly piercing gaze locked on him. Unknowingly shifting under the powerful gray eyes, Anders eyes flicked to the ground.
"What is it you need, Strider?" Aragorn didn't answer, merely began to climb to his feet again. Anders groaned in exasperation, and fought against his weakened leader to get him back on the bed.
"Anders! You must let me up! I need to get to Rivendell to warn my father! Freca marches for the haven, and I must help. My family needs me!" Aragorn's pleading voice broke through the younger ranger's barrier, but Anders was adamant not to let his leader past him.
"Strider, I understand, but you must stay down! You've been seriously injured, and you cannot just get up after a few days!" Aragorn's whole body shook at that, and he looked to Anders sharply.
"A few days!" jumping to his feet, Aragorn put a hand to his head as his whole body swayed at the action. Ignoring the panicked cries of the healers and Anders, he looked around for his sword or clothes, forgetting that both were now gone due to the orcs and hill men.
Finally remembering, he looked to Anders. "Get me clothes and a horse. I need to leave immediately." The younger ranger only crossed his arms over his chest and defiantly stared Aragorn down.
"With all due respect, sir; no." Strider started again, but glared at Halbarad's son.
"I am still your chieftain, young one. Do not forget that." Anders nodded courteously, but did not move.
"And I am sure you know that if my father were in here, he wouldn't let you go either." Aragorn's eyes showed his disapproval, but then moved to someone standing behind Anders.
His eyes softened, and a smile began to creep onto his face. "It seems that your son inherited your stubbornness, Friend." A joyous laugh made Anders spin around, and his face flushed at having been caught by his father.
"Father, I..." Halbarad held up a hand, and halted all further babble and explanations.
"I agree with you, my son, but Aragorn is right; we cannot hold him here." Looking pointedly to Strider, he placed a strong hand on Anders's shoulder. "No matter how foolish and reckless his actions may be." Then, a devilish look crossed his weathered face.
"Although, if I were like your father, I would just drug your tea and make you stay a little longer." The smile faded from Aragorn's face.
"That is who I am planning to save so that he may have the opportunity to do the same to me many, many years from now." Halbarad stepped forward, and slapped a hand upon Aragorn's shoulder.
"Go with my blessings, mellon nín. And, do come back soon." Aragorn returned the gesture, even if he did grimace a little from his hurts. However, his mood returned to somber.
"I still require new clothing and weapons. I need to move swiftly, and I have to go now." Halbarad nodded, and with his eyes, commanded Anders to make the arrangements.
Turning back to Aragorn, he caught his arm as the other man started to fall. Moving Strider back to the cot, he looked over to Legolas. "What are you going to do with him?"
Also looking over, Aragorn placed a hand over his eyes; trying to lessen the glare of lights before his eyes. "I will leave him here for the time being. If I do not come within the week for him, then move him to Rivendell. Send a messenger ahead when you reach the Bruinen, and wait. I or one of my brothers will meet you, and then we will watch over him." Moving a pained looked over to his best friend, Aragorn could feel the emotions welling up within him once more.
"This is my doing, Halbarad. This is my fault." The second-in-command said nothing, only rolled his eyes with exasperation. He was familiar with the dúnadan's usual mood of taking the blame for something, but this was taking it a bit too far.
"Strider, I will not say that maybe you should have been more cautious with the whole situation, but it is not my or your doing." Looking to Aragorn out of the corner of his eye, Halbarad sat down beside the older man, and casually swung his feet.
"Do you blame Elladan for your first dying?" he asked. Aragorn's eyes shot up, and he looked stunned, almost as if Halbarad had shot him.
"Of course not! There was no way he could have stopped Këan from killing me. He was half-dead himself!" Halbarad took a deep breath, seeing that his leader wasn't getting the example.
"Strider, you do not blame Elladan, and Legolas does not blame you. You did nothing wrong, and it was not your fault that Freca chose the prince to exact his revenge on you. What he did was despicable, but you did not help him plan it. You are just as much a victim in this as Legolas, if not more. You both will remember this for the rest of your lives, and will one day make Freca pay for all the atrocities he has committed, and I believe that as strongly as I believe in the Valar and Eru. The Mouth of Sauron will get his just deserves, and it will befit him the best way. Just wait and see."
Aragorn patted Halbarad's hand, but then looked back to Legolas. "Aye, my friend, but what good does that Legolas? He may be forever restricted to a bed because Freca chose to wound an elven male the best way he knew how. He tried to take away his mobility, his freedom. That may forever traumatize Legolas, and I don't know if he'll want to make it in the end."
Halbarad helped Aragorn to walk to Legolas' bedside, and Aragorn delicately brushed hair from the elf's pasty forehead. Leaning closer to his elven friend, the human muttered, "I will find you again. You won't stay this way forever, of that you can be sure." Running a hand down Legolas' cheek, Aragorn was dismayed when the touch produced no reaction.
Sighing, he looked to Halbarad. "Let's get on with this."
:0Ж0:
Elladan and Elrohir walked through the Rivendell gardens, carefully inspecting every part of the wonderful flowers their mother had planted over two centuries ago. Quite soon, though, even the peaceful gardens of Imladris would not be able to lend the sons of Elrond calm and serenity. A battle was brewing, and it was steadily approaching the fair lands.
Right now, the twins were patrolling in a sense. But, this was no duty bound surveillance. No, Elladan and Elrohir were here to brood. At the time, Elrohir was unable to reach his older brother. It appeared that Elladan was guilt-ridden over not being able to help their baby brother, and he was taking it out on everyone around him. Even his own twin was not safe from the wrath of the older elf.
Elrohir let Elladan get ahead of him, and just watched his brother's back. So much had gone on in the near month since Estel had gone, but the twins were both worried about the young mortal. Aragorn would forever be their little brother; nothing would change that. Nothing.
Speeding up, Elrohir caught up to Elladan, and turned the other around. "Elladan! I have to speak with you! We've allowed this to continue for almost a month now, but its gotten worse! I know exactly how you feel because Estel's gone, but you cannot just go around snapping at people! He'll come home alright, and he will bring Legolas with him." Elladan only stared to his brother in disbelief. Then, his lips went into a look of surprise.
"You know how I feel! Brother, there is no way you could ever know how I feel! I remember the last time Estel went off for something like this. He ended up dead!" Elladan's fiery gray eyes bore into those of Elrohir's. "You weren't there when he drew his last breath, 'Ro. All I can think about is how I failed him."
Drawing his eyes away, Elladan turned. "I cannot lose him again, Elrohir. I can't." Elrohir stood up behind his brother, and placed a comforting hand on the twin's shoulder.
"Estel is a strong warrior now. He is sixty years old now, Brother, not twenty. Estel knows how to take care of himself and Legolas." Elladan's haunted eyes turned to look at his twin.
"Then why does Father look so scared when he mentions Estel?"
:0Ж0:
Urging his horse to go faster, Aragorn nearly sighed in relief when he saw the bordering trees of his childhood home.
Nearly a week had passed since he'd left the ranger camp, and he and his faithful steed had made good time for the elven haven. However, not once had they seen evidence of the orc/ hill men army headed for Rivendell.
Halting on the outskirts, Aragorn was startled when he couldn't see his father's sentries. Usually, the loyal elven guards would have stopped him by now; Elrond's son or not. Now, neither a single call nor bow could be heard.
Slowing his mount down, the ranger allowed the beast to enter the woods at a calm pace. He realized that he was behind the orc army, but there was no need to exert his horse when there was less than a league left to go.
But, as he let the horse's pace slow, he heard the pounding of hooves from behind. Unsheathing his sword and spinning his horse around, Aragorn came face-to-face with Rothinzil of the Mirkwood guard.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Aragorn lowered his sword. Seeing the serious expression on the other's face, the ranger's relief melted rapidly. Sheathing his weapon, the mortal reined his horse up next to the elf's own mount. Looking Rothinzil over, Aragorn finally met the other's hazel eyes.
"Why did Thranduil send you to Rivendell, my friend?" the ranger asked after a minute. The elf's answer did not ease his worries.
"We had heard no word from either you or Lord Elrond. We still fear for the young prince's life." Looking about, Rothinzil noticed that Legolas still was not with them.
"Where is Prince Legolas?" Aragorn's eyes lowered to the ground, and he could not look the elf fully in the eyes.
"He is with the rangers of the north, and should be ready to set out in a couple of days for Rivendell." He swallowed, and then continued. "He's been seriously wounded, Roth, by the Mouth of Sauron." Finally looking up into his old friend's eyes, he finished. "It was Freca, Roth."
The Mirkwood elf's eyes narrowed in anger, and his fists tightened around his horse's reins. "You mean to tell me that monster still lives after all these years?" Aragorn slowly nodded, and then placed a comforting hand on the Noldo elf's shoulder.
"There was no way any of us could have acted against him before this. He's stationed in Mordor, Sauron's right hand commander. He holds the highest rank for a human in the evil lord's army. There was no way anyone could have reached him."
Tears gathered in the hardened hazel eyes, ones that the Mirkwood warrior could not dispel. "After everything he's done, that bastard still lives? How? I thought we had killed him?" Aragorn did not answer, for Rothinzil was not seeking one. Instead, the heartbroken elf was searching for meaning in this.
"That man still lives while the greatest elf I had ever known lies in eternal sleep? What justice is this?" Rothinzil quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, and he straightened in the saddle.
"I will see that he pays for everything he's done; past and present."
:0Ж0:
Patrolling the walls, the captain of the guard in Rivendell closely examined the surrounding foliage. Even though orcs and men were not known to sneak up on those of the fairer race, it was not unheard of. Plus, with the needed extra power, all the outermost sentries had been stationed closer to the gates for protection and acting as a cavalry. Therefore, the elves on the wall had to watch even more closely. There were no scouts to warn them of approaching danger.
Looking over the haven on either side of the wall, the commander looked towards the heavens, wishing for guidance. "Oh, sir, what would you do?" whispering out loud, the elf was not expecting an answer.
"He would never give up, and he would fight to the death for the well-being of his men. Never forget how selfless he was." Spinning around, the elf saw the outlined form of Lord Elrond drawing closer.
Dropping into a bow, the captain was nervous as his lord came even closer.
Elrond grasped the railing of the wall, and gestured for the captain to join him. The other elf only did after a moment of hesitation. Standing next to his lord, the captain waited for the older elf to begin.
"It's been over thirty years, but I can still remember how he looked as he faced a battle." The captain listened intently as Elrond shared his memories of his former commander. "He was like a son to me, forever prancing around with the twins. Two of them could never be alone; the third would be somewhere close. Rivendell named them 'the three terrors'. Not one could be referenced without the other two." Looking to his commander, Elrond smiled reassuringly.
"He trained you as best he could, and you will not fail. Do not see insecurities in your own command, and do not try to measure his wisdom against your own. You are a strong and capable leader, and you will not let Imladris down." The captain smiled, and looked out over the trees.
About to respond, he halted in mid-thought as a saw a disguised movement in the trees. Knowing that it was not one of his men right away, the captain raced past his lord to the bell hanging next to the doorway of the wall.
Ringing the warning bell as loudly as he could, he yelled in Elvish to his men.
"Prepare the archers!" he then ran back to Lord Elrond and ushered the older elf down the stairs. "No disrespect, heru nín /my lord, but I need you out of danger for the time being." Elrond did not question, but merely sped up down the stairs.
But, he stopped halfway down. "Where are my sons?"
:0Ж0:
The bell alarmed the citizens of Rivendell, and some of the women began to panic. They had never experienced something like this... not since the murders. Running around, the women struggled to get their children into their homes, and supposedly, out of danger.
The elven soldiers marched towards the front gates, prepared to defend their home till the death. They knew that a greater foe than just orcs awaited them on the other side of the gates, one that dared to challenge the mighty Lord Elrond Peredhil.
Elladan and Elrohir heard the bell from the garden, and barely looked to one another before running towards their posts. Spotting their father and the captain of the guard heading for the main house, the twins sprinted for their father's side.
"Ada! Is it them? Is this it?" their scrambled questions did not startle their father; he was only relieved to see his eldest children.
"Elladan! Elrohir! Aman i Valar /Bless the Valar! I was afraid you'd two gone off to do something reckless." The twins merely shared glances with one another before looking back to Elrond.
"Ada, we will take a small force to enforce right around the gates. If the orcs, Valar forbid, get through, then we'll be the first ones they encounter." Elrond frowned at Elladan's request, but did not say anything for a time.
"Very well, but be careful, my sons. Take those whom you trust the most, and do not let the orcs get the best of you. Remember, there is an evil with them who is strong and cunning. He was wise enough to capture Prince Legolas and lure your brother. There is nothing this one cannot accomplish." The twins nodded, and with the captain, raced for the wall.
Briefly looking to his father's star, Elrond gave a small prayer. Watch over them tonight, Ada. Do not let my sons stray. With that thought, the lord then raced for the main house and his own private armory.
:0Ж0:
Pushing their mounts to the most neck-breaking speeds, Aragorn and Rothinzil reached the banks of the river Bruinen. Looking over the rushing waters, the human could just see the backs of many running orcs.
"Roth! Look!" the elf did not look, but merely spurred his horse into the river.
"I see them! Hurry, Estel! We must reach Rivendell before the orcs!" following the elf's example, Aragorn urged his horse into the rushing currents of the natural border of Rivendell.
After several moments, the two friends reached the other side of the bank, and then goaded their mounts further.
Going around the orc/ hill men troupe, Aragorn and Rothinzil slowed down so as not to be heard over the jeers and footfalls of the orcs and men. Gaining the head of the group, Rothinzil looked over into the sneering face of the man he had seen in his nightmares for over thirty years.
Pulling his bow from his saddle, he unconsciously strung an arrow before he even fully realized what he was doing. Aragorn's arm stopped him from firing the projectile, but the elf stopped himself before he could do anything rash.
Not matter how many times he had wished Freca dead, he would not give the mortal the honor of dying quickly. For what he did, the Mouth of Sauron deserved the most painful death imaginable. And he, Rothinzil, a Captain of Mirkwood, would be the one to deliver it.
"Roth!" Aragorn hissed, desperately trying to gain the Noldo elf's attention. "Roth, you mustn't!" he cried. Roth only looked to him, and gave a very tight-lipped smile.
"Don't worry, young Dúnadan, Freca does not deserve such a death." Aragorn was neither reassured nor relieved, but at least he had the elf's vow not to kill Freca right at this instance. Getting all those orc and hill men's attentions would be the last thing they wanted to do right now.
Spurring their horses on even more, the human and the elf raced for the mortal's home.
Reaching the gate, he was surprised when he heard the yelling of elves. Nearing the great doors, he quickly spoke the password to gain entry.
As soon as the heavy doors opened, Aragorn and Rothinzil were surprised when over fifty archers' bows were pointed directly at them. Smiling, Aragorn could not help quipping,
"Do I look like an orc to you?" walking closer into the courtyard, Estel and Roth heard from behind as the majestic gate closed.
"No, but you might smell like one occasionally." Suddenly, two identical elves were standing before them, helping the human from his horse.
Elladan did a once over his brother, and then embraced the mortal tightly. Aragorn gave a half-choked groan, but did not pull away. Unfortunately, for him, the other twin noticed his discomfort.
"Estel! What happened this time?" Elladan pulled away from his youngest brother, and noticed the fresh blood on the mortal's clothing. Looking deeply into the other's gray eyes, the elf could only gasp as he saw the physical and emotional pain written within their depths.
Beginning to usher their brother towards the house, Elrohir invited Rothinzil in over his shoulder. Accepting the summons, the Mirkwood elf followed the three sons of Elrond into the Last Homely House.
Walking quickly to their father's study, Elladan and Elrohir did not even bother with knocking and entered the room, their brother between them.
Next to his desk, Elrond turned as he was adjusting the girth on his belt. Seeing his youngest with his twin sons, the elven lord forgot his tasks and rushed over to them.
"Estel! Oh, it warms my heart to see you again!" moving to take Aragorn into a hug, he and the others were surprised as the human collapsed against his father. Pushing Aragorn back a little, Elrond's strong hands on the broad shoulders, the elven lord began to ask his foster son questions.
"What happened, Estel? Where's Legolas?" but, the mortal's eyes were beginning to glaze over, the adrenaline that had been keeping him moving for the past week failing.
"It's...Freca, Ada. Legolas and I couldn't escape. He tortured Legolas and me." A sob caught in the mortal's throat, and he fell further against his father. "I couldn't stop him." For the first time, Elrond could feel the trembling throughout Aragorn's body, and could feel wetness through his robes.
Again pushing Aragorn back, Elrond was appalled to see blood adorning the front of Aragorn's tunic. Catching the ranger as he fully collapsed, the elven lord swept his youngest into his arms, cradling him against his chest.
"Oh, peneth er /young or little one, what did he do to you this time?" carrying the wounded mortal out the door and towards the healers' ward, he spoke over his shoulder to his other two sons. "Get back to the gates and help the others. I will join you as soon as I see to Estel. Rothinzil," the Mirkwood elf continued to stay with them, and trailed behind him.
"I realize what you want, young one, and I understand your reasons. However, I will not allow you to endanger anyone if your personal vendetta gets in the way of defending Imladris. You may challenge Freca, but be careful. You mean a lot to us, too, you know." The younger Noldo elf was touched by the lord's words, but he also grew a little defensive.
"I would never endanger the lives of anyone in Rivendell, and nothing will get in the way of me finishing Freca. I will make sure that the attack loses its leader." Elrond didn't respond, but looked to his sons in warning and as a sign. 'Watch over him. Make sure he doesn't do anything foolish.' His eyes spoke all, and the twins nodded before branching off down the hallway, taking Rothinzil with them.
Reaching the healers' ward, Elrond burst in, alarming the preparing healers. They were getting ready for the upcoming battle, and were only mildly surprised to see their lord carrying in one of his sons. It was common knowledge how much trouble the sons of Elrond got into.
"Get me herbs, bandages, and a new tunic!" he commanded as he laid Aragorn on one of the nearest beds. The mortal, for his part, fought him by trying to get back to his feet.
"Ada, I'm fine..." he protested, but one look from Elrond halted any movement.
"The last time you collapsed in my arms was because of a disease no one knew how to cure. You aren't going to get away with anything right now." Aragorn rolled his eyes, but at least laid back down, relaxing back into the feather-light pillows underneath him.
Elrond ripped open his tunic, and just stared at the open wound on his son's stomach. Running a delicate hand down the torn skin, the elf examined the ripped stitches and the path made by Freca's crazy dagger.
Aragorn drew in his breath, and closed his eyes against the pain the gentle touch invoked. During his weeklong ride, his wounds had festered even more, but the ranger had been unable to do anything about them. His abdomen felt as if every inch were on fire and throbbing with pain and his legs... he could barely feel them from how badly they were infected.
Elrond noticed that Aragorn's mid-section was not his only problem, and he ran his hands down the rest of his son's body. Reaching the top of Aragorn's quadriceps, he cringed in shared pain as the human barely suppressed a cry of absolute agony.
Now that his father had pressed against the infected wounds, Aragorn could not withstand the overwhelming pain the injured muscles and skin were giving off. Closing his eyes even tighter, he didn't even discern the tears that leaked from his eyes.
Choking back a pain-filled sob, he did not even notice as Elrond removed his leggings and placed a blanket over his extremities to get a better look at his son's wounds. However, once the article of clothing was removed, his anger went up a notch at seeing the various scimitar wounds adorning Aragorn's muscled legs.
Going from the top of his quadriceps and then heading down to the ankles, the cuts were deep at the top and then shallow at the ankles. Aragorn's left leg appeared worse than his right, and that was saying a lot. The wounds covering his right leg were deep, and the wound on his upper leg nearly revealed the bone. The condition of his right leg paled in comparison to the condition of his left, though.
Elrond looked to one of the healers as she brought him over athelas and other useful herbs, and he immediately enlisted her help in wrapping and sewing the wounds all over Aragorn's body. Elrond couldn't spend a lot of time with his son at this time due to the coming battle, and he cursed the Mouth of Sauron for doing this to his son and then preventing the elven lord from taking care of him. If only that man had never tricked the rangers into thinking he was one of them!
Aragorn looked up after a time, and could see the dilemma outlined on his father's face. Smiling painfully, he put a hand on Elrond's arm. "Go, Ada, fight and then come back. I will be fine until then." But, his face darkened after a time. "Watch out for Freca and Dúnhere. They know you have a ring of power."
The shock on Elrond's face was not amusing, and Aragorn squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Just don't let the ring show. They cannot get it if they cannot see it." The elf smiled, and lovingly ruffled Aragorn's messy hair.
But, his humor faded as he saw the pain grow. "Estel, what is wrong now?" Aragorn attempted to keep his smile, but the growing pain in his head prohibited such a thought.
"Freca... kept knocking me out. I think he might have given me a concussion." Looking over his son's head, Elrond closed his eyes as his hands encountered a knot on the back of Aragorn's head. Gently exploring the wound, Elrond parted the hair to get a better look.
"It's not a concussion, but it's quite a goose egg you gathered, ion nín /my son/." Aragorn finally chuckled at his father's words, but then took his father's wrists in both of his hands.
"Kel, Ada. Kel dagor ar Elladan and Elrohir /Go, Father. Go fight with Elladan and Elrohir/." Elrond easily got loose from Aragorn's grasp, and cupped the mortal's face in his hands. Looking deep into the gray eyes so much like his own, Elrond smiled down on his son.
"I am going to stay with you for as long as you need me, my son. Your wounds are severe, and you need me. Do not deny that you do." Aragorn did not give a verbal confirmation, but his injuries chose at that moment to spark up even more. Closing his eyes again, he squeezed his father's wrists as tight as he could, trying desperately to dispel the pain running through his body.
Elrond let his son use him as a base, and could only watch with sadness as Aragorn fought through the pain. After a time, the pain finally lessened to a degree that the ranger could release his death-grip upon Elrond's wrists.
Opening his eyes once more, Aragorn felt the tears pricking up again. "Ada, it hurts so much." He whispered, his eyes looking downward in shame. Elrond leaned down and placed his head on top of Aragorn's.
"Iston, ion. Iston /I know, son. I know/." The son of Eärendil whispered to his own son, gently wiping away Aragorn's tears. "The pain won't last for long. I promise." Aragorn nodded, his forehead bumping into his father's.
"I believe you, Ada. Don't worry about that." Elrond smiled, and gently massaged Aragorn's temples.
Then, suddenly, from outside, the sounds of feral shrieking could be heard. The sounds of breaking wood accompanied the screaming, and the calls of Elrond's leading officers sounded throughout the paths.
"Close them down! Do not let them enter the courtyard!" the commands came all the way to the healers' ward, and Elrond's head looked immediately for the door.
Aragorn's gaze followed that of his father's and he could feel the sudden heightened senses coursing through Elrond. "Ada...?" he questioned. Elrond looked back to Aragorn, and now his smile seemed forced.
"I'm sure the captains can handle it. Plus, they have your brothers if something goes wrong." Aragorn did not believe Elrond, and his eyes and face plainly showed his feelings.
"Ada, they need you more than I do right now. Go and be the leader you are." Elrond looked skeptically to his youngest, but then more cries made up his mind. Turning to his master healer, he ordered the physician to keep a close eye on Aragorn, and then hurried to where the female healer had placed the clothes brought for the wounded human.
Bringing the clothing over to the bed, Elrond quickly helped Aragorn dress, and then unsheathed the ranger's borrowed sword, handing the weapon over carefully. "You are the only line of defense back here, my son. We can not afford to draw any elves from the front, and these healers need someone to protect them." Aragorn nodded, and then struggled to sit up. Elrond helped brace him against the headboard, and then stood back.
Just looking over Aragorn, he felt a lump rising in his throat. He knew that Aragorn would be safest here, but Elrond just knew that it would be dangerous to leave his son alone for any amounts of time.
Bending down, he kissed Aragorn on the forehead, and then raced for the gates.
:0Ж0:
It had been a week, and no word from Rivendell. Therefore, getting a small caravan together, Halbarad helped some other rangers transport the still unconscious Legolas from the tent to a wagon.
Even after the time since Aragorn had left, the elven prince had remained oblivious to the world around him, and the ranger healers had begun to despair for their chieftain's friend. It seemed that the elf had taken even more serious injury than originally thought, and was the result of his current state.
Halbarad and Anders considered this disappointing in two respects; Aragorn would go into a further depression than they had suspected, and Legolas would be lost to the world. The elven prince was a cherished friend to the rangers, for he was an elf who lived with them occasionally.
Because of his deep love for Aragorn as a brother and friend, the Mirkwood warrior had traveled with the rangers for months at a time. He had helped hunt in the wintertime, and then helped defend against enemies that dared strike against the rangers. The elf was a valued friend to everyone, and he had proven his worth many times over again.
To see Legolas in such a state was heartbreaking, and at the same time, a cruel reminder that once more, the rangers were too late to help two of their own. Halbarad and Anders had heard the reports too late, and had taken action only after the attack had occurred. Aragorn's tortured cries would forever be in their memories as a sign to their failures.
Watching as his men delicately loaded Legolas into a wagon, Halbarad shook his head before looking to his son. Anders's leg still wasn't healed from his stab wound, and he limped as a bad testament to his wound.
Walking up to his father, Anders was ready to argue with Halbarad about letting him go. Opening his mouth to begin the argument, the younger man was surprised when the second-in-command gestured with his finger.
"Get in the wagon or be left behind." Anders smiled happily, and then did as his father said. Halbarad rolled his eyes and then moved for his horse. Mounting, he reined his horse around to look at the rest of the somber caravan.
Nodding, he then led the way towards Imladris and the Peredhil family that awaited their injured friend.
:0Ж0:
Elladan pulled his sword from the belly of one orc, and moved to parry a blow from another in quick succession. Barely looking over to his younger brother, who was fighting near him, Elladan yelled, "Have you seen Roth?"
Elrohir ducked a swipe aimed for his head, and then took a moment to answer as a blow for his abdomen forced him to drop to avoid injury. Shooting up, he killed the man aiming for his stomach, and then finally answered his brother.
"I saw him move for the top of the wall. But, that was some time ago." Elladan growled low in his throat as his sword parried and then thrust, killing many orcs and hill men in his path.
The orcs and hill men under the command of Freca, Mouth of Sauron, had broken through the centuries old gates like nothing, and then proceeded to attack the front line of the army of Rivendell. Elrohir and Elladan had fought to keep the orcs at bay, but it appeared that the original group had gotten reinforcements from somewhere. They just kept coming!
Wave after wave flooded through Imladris's broken gates, falling over each other trying to get to the elves inside. Each wanted a turn at killing an elf, and were killing one another to be the first ones within the haven.
Looking around the chaos through his home, anger filled Elladan, one that he had only felt twice in his entire life; when he and Elrohir had rescued their mother from the orcs, and watching his little brother die in his arms.
Yelling, Elladan fought even more furiously. Hearing the delighted calls of orcs, the eldest son of Elrond then heard cries of the women and children. Quickly killing the orcs he was fighting, Elladan turned and raced for the direction of the cries.
Once he got to the main pathway, the reason for the women's terror was evident. A man was walking between the panic, a magnificent sword held within his grasp, looking majestic and frightening all at the same time.
Women ran across the lane, trying desperately to get out of the way and not incur the wrath of the attacking beings. Freca laughed as he watched the panic, and twirled the sword around in his grasp. This was entirely too easy.
Elladan had had enough. Jumping to block Freca's path, the twin raised his sword in front of him; daring Freca to advance further.
The Mouth of Sauron halted his trek for a moment, just watching the son of Elrond for a time.
"What are you doing, Elladan? Are you going to try and stop me by yourself?" Elladan noticeably jerked as Freca said his name. He was surprised that the evil man could easily identify him from his brother. However, not dwelling, he only tightened his stance.
"You will not enter further, rauko /demon/." His anger showed, and Freca's smile and humor only grew.
"What, you would strike me down, oh powerful elf lord?" he laughed, and then looked back to Elladan, all traces of humor gone. "You only wish, Lord Elladan. You wish."
"You will pay for what you did to my brother and my friend, Freca. Not to mention what you did to us before. You may have escaped trial all those years ago, but that will not happen again. Of that you can be sure." Freca did not respond, but suddenly lunged at Elladan, his sword striking in a downwards movement.
Elladan barely was able to move to the side and parry before Freca was upon him. With quick thrusts and feints, Freca had Elladan backing up considerably.
"Where's the haughty elf lord now, eh?" he laughed, but continued his assault on the twin. Elladan raised his sword to strike, but was forced to move to a defensive position as the ambassador from Mordor's blade moved for his head.
Struggling for the upper hand, Elladan was visibly fighting for control. He wanted to defeat the man for what he had done, but knew that if he made any type of attack, Freca would win the small duel and kill the elf in one, swift stroke.
:0Ж0: