CHAPTER SIX
REMNANT GHOSTS
On the last night before the rangers were to journey on to the Hoarwell River and the Ettenmoors, Ilfrith made a special dinner of her rabbit stew and she added dumplings to it that she had made for the men as a special treat. Elrohir brought out a bottle of wine that he saved to drink when a meaningful occasion presented itself. All of the warriors raised their cups and made a toast to the mission. "To Legolas and Aragorn," Elrohir proposed. "May we find you both safe and unharmed." The men raised their tin cups in silence to make the grim toast as every one of them felt the gravity of the impending difficulties to be faced.
After dinner when the other rangers had wandered off to do their own chores or to simply relax, Elladan offered to help Ilfrith wash the dishes and help dispose of the rest of the food. They heated a big kettle of water over a fire and they placed the plates, cups and utensils in it to boil them clean. In the early morning Ilfrith would rise before anyone else and pack them all away for the next day's journey. When they were burying the remnants of the food so that its smell of rotting rabbit flesh and souring broth would not attract scavengers, Elladan spoke to Ilfrith quietly.
"Would you mind very much if I visited your tent again tonight?" he asked in a fervent whisper. She smiled happily as she pressed the earth back over the trench that they had dug, stamping up and down on it with both her feet to flatten the dirt.
"It would upset me greatly," she said, and then giggled impishly at the look of surprised disappointment on his face. "If you did not," she continued and laughed softly. Elladan sighed and smiled, reaching out to stroke her burnished hair. He admired how it glowed brightly with a reddish-golden sheen from the setting sun. Arm in arm they strolled back toward Ilfrith's tent.
"Elrohir can stand watch tonight," said Elladan.
"But it is Penlod's turn," said Ilfrith with surprise.
"Do you really want your brother to sit outside our – YOUR – tent while we make love?" Elladan asked and leaned over to nibble the tip of Ilfrith's tender ear. She sighed and shuddered with pleasure.
"But Elrohir is YOUR brother," she retorted.
"Yes, but Elrohir and I are twins and we – ah – share certain things," Elladan tried to explain.
"Oh! Are you telling me that you have told him private, personal secrets about our intimate moments?" she asked, beginning to become angry.
"No! No, never that!" he replied in alarm. "No! I was referring to certain other – understandings that twins have between each other. It is very hard to explain. Some other time I shall try to tell you, but not now. I do not want to spoil this moment."
"You spoke of OUR tent," she said, changing the subject. "Do you think that we should share my tent from now on? That would make things easier on the others. They would not have to stand guard all night anymore. I would always have you with me and that is the only protection I would require."
"I think that is a grand idea," said Elladan. "Let me go to speak with Elrohir to let him know that I will be sleeping in your tent tonight. I shall be back in a moment."
A few minutes later, Elladan entered Ilfrith's tent and sat down upon the blankets that she had neatly arranged inside. Elladan looked at her questioningly. "Would you mind that everyone know about us?" he asked. "Should we announce to the others that we are betrothed?"
A shadow crossed Ilfrith's pretty face and she looked away from Elladan for a moment as she considered telling him about Thranduil and her other secret. "Elladan," she said slowly, swiftly preparing her speech. "There is nothing I would like more than to bond with you because I love you with all my heart. But I must tell you something first, for if I do not it will always be an obstacle between us that will perhaps mar our feelings for each other."
Elladan regarded her curiously as he slipped out of his tunic and then peeled off his light undershirt. "Elladan, would you please stop undressing for a moment?" she asked him. "You will distract me so that I will not be able to concentrate on telling you what I need to reveal." He stopped disrobing as she had asked and looked at her with expectant alarm.
"I ran away from Mirkwood," she explained, and her breath hitched as a ragged sigh escaped from her throat. "Penlod and Bethos helped me. They were to take Thranduil's message to your father, but it was never intended that I should go with them. I left home of my own accord, and they understood and assisted me with my disguise so that I could leave Mirkwood undetected. Our ruse was a success. No one immediately followed us to capture me and take me back. By now I know that Lord Elrond will have been made aware of my escape." She paused to take a breath.
"Escape?" Elladan's voice took on a shocked tone as he sat upright and took Ilfrith's hands in his. "Escape from your home? It is a very odd thing to hear someone speak of escaping from their own home. Whatever made you feel you must do such a thing?"
She squeezed Elladan's hands in response and looked at him with tears in her bright eyes. "Thranduil means to marry me," she said sadly, "but I do not love him and I do not wish to be his wife."
Elladan looked stunned at this news. "What are you saying, Ilfrith? That you are Thranduil's betrothed and you have run away from him and immediately taken up with me?" He let go of her hands.
"No!" she cried, and her hands flew nervously to her face. "We are NOT betrothed! I left before we could become so! I shall not marry Thranduil! I hate him!"
"But Thranduil is a friend of father's," said Elladan, still not digesting the full impact of what Ilfrith had just told him. "And he is my friend as well, and Elrohir's. He is a good person. And his son Legolas is one of our best friends and one of the kindest and most personable people I have ever known. And because he is Thranduil's son, I would suspect that some of his fine traits have been inherited from his father!"
"Yes, yes, Thranduil is a fine person," said Ilfrith. "They are both good, worthy people. Essentially. But Thranduil rules harshly and I do not like him for that. He—"
"But it is necessary for him to be hard," Elladan interrupted. "It is because of these evil times. It has not been that long since the dark force left Dol Guldur and there is still much terror shadowing those lands."
"Yes," said Ilfrith, "But the times are difficult everywhere in Middle-earth, and yet your own father runs his realm much more diplomatically than Thranduil runs ours."
"Ah, yes, but they are two vastly different realms," said Elladan, "with different dynamics and different problems. You can't compare them with each other."
"Elladan," Ilfrith said. "Perhaps we could discuss the different politics of the two realms at another time, for now I only wished for you to know my secret so that it would not stand as an obstruction between us if it had been left unspoken."
Elladan gulped back the words he was about to speak and examined Ilfrith's face closely. In her innocent-looking wide blue eyes and her smooth, unwrinkled skin, and the sweet, soft set of her lips, he could detect no intensity, no holding back of emotion. He believed that she told him truthfully of her reasons for leaving Mirkwood and that there was nothing between her and Thranduil except for one-sided desire to wed her on his part. Elladan decided that he also did not want to talk about it anymore, and raised a soothing hand to cup her chin and stroke her cheek.
"It will not come between us," he said, "For I will not let that happen. I love you, tender little flower that you are."
"Elladan, you are my heart," she moaned, and pressed herself against him, her lips seeking his, her hands entwined in his hair. After the kiss she pulled back and started to undo his braids. His hands sought the opening of her shirt, deftly undid the clasps, slid the fabric open to caress her breasts and ran his hands down the ridges of her ribs to rest on her waist. He encompassed her slender middle with his large hands, his thumbs touching in the centre of her belly, his fingertips coming together over the ridge in the middle of her back. She lowered her arms and let him pull the shirt down and off of her slender body. Then he pulled her against him, her cool flesh and soft breasts against his hot, hard-muscled chest, and he stood, lifting her up with him.
His head touched the roof of the tent so that he could not stand to his full height. He leaned forward and unlaced Ilfrith's leggings, noting how loose they had become as they hung on her hips. "You are becoming too thin. I worry about your strength, Ilfrith," he remarked.
"Shh. Not now," she whispered, and reached for his waistband. He looked larger than ever, if that were possible, but it was perhaps because of her comparative slightness. She untied his leggings slowly, reveling in the hard lines of his taut body. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her and eased both himself and Ilfrith to their knees. They kissed passionately, and Ilfrith leaned backwards until she was lying on the blankets with Elladan atop her.
He lifted her and sat her on top of his thighs so that she could stroke him with her hands and bend forward to kiss him. He moaned her name and writhed beneath her touches. "Ilfrith – I need you," he cried passionately. She raised her head and stared at him fondly.
"He is the perfect warrior before battle," she thought. "His nerves are on edge and he needs release quickly."
She rolled off of him to lie at his side and let him move his body atop hers. With a steady, fluid motion, he rocked back and forth, moving Ilfrith up and down. He used great skill and precision so that it did not hurt her. She screamed not from pain but from love and lust and indescribable enjoyment.
The next morning Ilfrith rose early before dawn to pack up the supper dishes from the night before and she began to boil water in a small kettle to make tea for those who would desire it when they arose. She busied herself with her chores and after a few minutes was surprised to see Bethos and Gilfanon emerge from their tent carrying fresh clothing. "Good morning! We are going for an early swim," Bethos called to her, a radiant smile lighting his face that would rival the fair morning sun when it arose.
"Good morning, Bethos! And you, Gilfanon!" she called after them as they made their way to a stream that was downhill from the campsite amid a small wooded area. She shook her head in amused curiosity, watching the big, dark-haired, Noldorin warrior Gilfanon follow the slight, slender blond Silvan Bethos down the slope to the ravine.
Ilfrith was so busy packing up the Elves' supplies and pouring cups of tea for everyone who wanted some that she did not notice that Bethos and Gilfanon had not returned from the woods. Elladan emerged from the tent fully dressed in warrior garb, in grey suede tunic and leggings over a pale grey heavy shirt. He had already clasped his vambraces onto his wrists and attached his sword-belt to his waist. He gave Ilfrith a kiss and went to Elrohir's tent to wake him. One by one the other Elves made themselves and their horses ready to depart and it was only when they began to strike the tents that Penlod noticed that Bethos and Gilfanon were missing.
Elladan was annoyed by this discovery. "Where have those two disappeared?" he asked curtly. "Has anyone seen them?"
"Yes, I have," Ilfrith replied. She began to worry because it was not typical behaviour for either Bethos or Gilfanon to be tardy or inefficient. She remembered too, that neither of them had been carrying their weapons. "I saw them. They said they were going down to the stream when I first started the water boiling for the tea. They are unarmed."
"That was more than an hour ago!" cried Elladan. "Elrohir, come," he called to his brother. "We shall go to look for them." The two brothers hurried toward the ravine while the other Elves finished striking the tents and packed up the remaining gear. Penlod packed Bethos' and Gilfanon's things, and made their horses ready. After a few moments had passed the other Elves could see Elladan racing back up the hill.
"Tifil! Peleg!" he cried, and Ilfrith could see even from a distance that he was extremely upset. "Come quickly!"
The two Imladrian warriors dropped their tack and ran toward Elladan. He spoke a few words to them that Ilfrith could not hear and then all three Elves plunged down into the ravine. Ilfrith turned and ran to where Penlod was finishing readying his own horse. "Brother, something is wrong!" she cried. "What should we do? I am afraid something has happened to Bethos!"
"We must stay here, sister!" Penlod said, his face grim, his lips pulled into a tight line and the muscles of his jaw clenching. "Everyone else has gone to find out what happened. We should arm ourselves." He went into his tent and came out with two long knives. He sheathed one and gave the other to her. Then he put his arms around her and held her closely. Ilfrith, realizing that she and Penlod were now completely alone, suddenly became fearful and hugged her brother for support. The two sat down and waited but they knew not for what.
When Elladan and Elrohir first arrived at the stream, they saw the clothing that the two Elves, Bethos and Gilfanon, had been wearing scattered upon the bank, but no sign of those two Elves. On checking the ground for signs or tracks, the twins noticed the Elves' footprints in the mud leading from the pile of scattered clothes down into the water. "There is nothing unusual there," thought Elladan, but Elrohir called his attention to something farther along the bank that he had walked over to examine. When Elladan followed, he saw that Elrohir was pointing to some evidence that a struggle had taken place on the shore. There were many different footprints, some of them not much more than scuff marks and signs that something – or someone – had been dragged along the ground. After a brief search they found a most alarming thing - a piece of torn cloth that was stuck to the thorny branch of a hawthorn tree. It was of a heavy dark grey fabric. It felt rather like burlap, but it was like nothing that any Elves of their company wore.
"Oh, Valar!" Elrohir swore as he noticed something on the ground below the branch. There were drops of a spilled liquid on the grass; fresh and still dripping in glistening dark drops to the slender green blades.
"Blood!" hissed Elladan between gritted teeth. "It's probably from an Orc attack, although Orcs are usually not so silent when they come upon you. I'm going to get help! Don't move from this spot, Elrohir, and draw your sword in case they are still nearby!" And he dashed back up the slope toward camp.
Elrohir stood staring at the fresh blood, his senses reeling, trying to determine what may have happened, when he became aware of a faint whimpering sound. It was coming from within the wooded area, and he dashed toward it. There, to a tree with his feet suspended about three feet from the ground, his hands bound behind him, was Bethos. He was naked, his head lolling upon his chest, and his abdomen was covered in a dark red substance. Fearing that the red substance was blood and that Bethos had been gravely injured, Elrohir reached up to touch the blonde Elf's stomach to assess his wounds. But the blood was smeared on Bethos in a strange design, of crude pattern, and it was not his own. He appeared to be uninjured.
"Gilfanon," Bethos sobbed and he opened his eyes at Elrohir's touch. "They have taken Gilfanon."
Shocked, Elrohir reached up and began to cut the bonds that held the fair Elf to the tree. When he was lowered, Elrohir put his hand under Bethos's chin and lifted it so that he could look into the blue eyes that were brimming with tears. The haunted look in them frightened Elrohir. "Who, Bethos? Who has taken Gilfanon?" he asked.
"They – them – the people in the dark robes," Bethos sobbed.
"Who are they? Orcs?" whispered Elrohir.
"No. They – they are – different –"said Bethos, the look in his eyes growing increasingly haunted. "They spoke in a strange tongue I did not know and I could not understand them. Some of them are – they have – only one eye." He shivered.
"Wait," said Elrohir, shocked and wanting time to absorb what Bethos had told him. "I will get your clothes. Have you been hurt at all?"
Bethos bit his lip and shook his head. Elrohir ran back to the stream to retrieve some of the scattered clothing he had seen on the ground and brought it back to Bethos. While the pale Elf dressed, Elrohir remembered what he had said about the strange people. "Only one eye?" he asked.
"Yes," said Bethos. "And some of them had only one arm. And others only one leg." He looked at Elrohir with an expression of horror widening his eyes.
"Where have they gone?" Elrohir asked.
Bethos pointed northwards. "That way," he said. "They have taken Gilfanon and that is not all." He began whimpering again.
Elrohir gulped and his heart jumped, a feeling of fright tightening his chest.
"What is it?" he asked, placing a hand on the small Elf's shoulder, trying to both steady himself and reassure Bethos at the same time.
"The blood on me is his," Bethos said with a gasp, and burst into tears.
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