Notes

Ascatar-axo: The Lost Stone of Amon Sul that had been buried in the ruins of the Watchtower.

Haudh-Lanc: The Barrow of the Sharp Edge or Long Throat. The real meaning is of course forgotten in the mists of time.

Rithilmuilë: Erestor's ring. Means Secrecy.

* The absent suicide is of course, Maedhros. Erestor swore to him in Through a Glass that he would find and 'rescue/save' Maglor.

For marumi -if you get here. You have left kudos on everything I have ever written so you are doing a marathon!

Beta: Anarithilien. Thank you as always, my dear.

Chapter 33. Elladan

Elladan covered his face with his hands; Erestor had been taken, beaten to the ground and then dragged away like an old sack by Hrungnîr.

He could not bear it. They had fought over the insanity of the plan, and Erestor had prevailed.

Reeling slightly from the emotion, he threw his hand out and leaned against the cold rock and then felt for the leather strap of the satchel over his shoulder for Erestor had doused the torch just before he stepped from the antechamber and challenged the Barrow Wight. Now the darkness was impenetrable, not a gleam of light came from anywhere and he could not see his hand in front of him.

Hatred flared in his heart for the Úmaiar, akin to the hatred he and Elrohir felt for the Orcs of the Mountains and that had earned them their name, the Sons of Thunder. But dread settled coldly in his chest, like a weight and he was filled with doubt that he could do what Erestor required of him, and it mixed with the bitterness at the deception Erestor had used against him.

Earlier…

When Gimli had left them, the strange drift of coolness and light which was Legolas had gone, but there had followed a wash of silvery mist that threaded the air, and Elladan had thought he heard the trace of a Song of curlews over the wild moor. He turned his head slightly to see Gimli's torchlight disappearing into the darkness as he led Legolas' ghost back to Elrohir and his own body. Then finally he could see it no more, and the wild moorland Song had gone too.

Ahead of him Erestor was striding into the darkness of the tunnel, holding aloft a torch and his great fur cloak spread in his wake as he began the search for Maglor. Elladan's torch flickered and streamed in the draught that fingered its way through the tunnels.

Elladan knew that his own eyes were wide, and his heart pounded as he followed quickly after Erestor, for he knew the terrible danger into which they were headed; he had seen the power of the Úmaiar, the darkness and cold that they spread with their sorcery that could raise the old bones of long dead Orcs, or possess the body of an Elf so that he attacked his dearest friends, his lover. In this ancient darkness that had seen no light for a thousand years these demons hid Like Balrogs they were in might, but cold and formed of a darkness that could enter the eye, heart and mind, crushing the will.

But Elladan thought Erestor charmed, invincible. His ring protected him as it had a little earlier in the Chamber of the Last Prince when they had been attacked by the Ulunn, the bat-like demons sent by the Úmaiar to attack the Fellowship. The ring had been a blade then, striking at the demons and driving them back to their masters.

For a moment, the flicker of light from Erestor's torch disappeared and Elladan gasped and looked about in panic.

'It is a strange coincidence that we came across the Hobbits,' Erestor said, suddenly reappearing from a narrow fissure in the rock, and as casual as if he had been having a conversation with Elladan all along and that they merely perambulated in the gardens of Imladris. 'And that Elrohir found Ascatar-axo when he did and met the hobbits on the way.' He waved his torch towards the narrow fissure, the deep crack in the rock from which he had emerged. 'Maglor is not in here. I begin to think he has fled me once again, except that Legolas said that he guarded the way to allow his own escape.' He peered into a niche deep within the small chamber but found nothing.

'Why do you think he will be in there?' he asked.

Erestor gave him a wry look. 'He does not want me to find him.'

Elladan hastened after him. After all, he would be nowhere else. He hadn't wanted to be anywhere but Erestor's side for a very long time. A strange pair he and Erestor made, he thought, recalling drunken evenings of chess where Erestor had played him at Suicide. Or when they had sparring bouts and Erestor had driven him relentlessly, so he came home covered in bruises making Elrohir furious, first with Erestor, and then later with Elladan for allowing the beating. 'It is so I know pain and do not fear it,' he had told Elrohir. 'Erestor will not patronize me by letting me win. No Orc would.'

There were Orc bones in the main tunnel now and Erestor slowed a little, pausing to stare at them. He kicked one heavy jawed, long faced skull and the sound of it cracking against the rock wall startled Elladan. It rolled away in the soft dust.

'Do not disturb them,' Elladan said quietly to Erestor. 'What if they spring to life when we have passed.'

'We have Ascatar-axo.' Erestor shrugged carelessly. Then he said quietly, 'If we do not find Maglor here in these tunnels, it may be that the Úmaiar already have him.'

Elladan stumbled over something in the darkness at his feet. He held up his torch and it shone down upon another skull, its pointed teeth gleamed in the heavy jaws. With a shudder of revulsion, Elladan edged around it. He did not want to step over it for he imagined the Orc suddenly clutching at his foot.

The wind lifted Elladan's hair. It carded the long strands and blew them mournfully over his face. He rested his eyes upon Erestor's broad shoulders as he followed and felt a sudden pang of loneliness. He wondered why, in spite of his overtures, his approaches, Erestor still resisted him with such determination. Was he so unlovable? Elladan thought how his mother had not loved him either as she had loved her other children. Perhaps Erestor just did not find him attractive, and perhaps too, Erestor's memory of the child that Elladan had been obscured the man that he had become. It rankled.

Look. Your Kin slayer. Exile. Outcast. Unashamed and unrepentant. How can your short life offer him anything of interest? You will always be a child to him. Maglor is the object of all his searching, his great quest. Have you never wondered at his passion?

Elladan reeled slightly and threw out his hand out to steady himself against the rock wall and Erestor's hand was already there, catching him as he always had. The amber eyes held him, gently, cradling him.

'Whatever it is,' said Erestor carefully, 'whatever you are thinking right now, it is the Barrow Wight makes you think this. Remember in the tumulus of Haudh-Lanc. Suttungr tried the same, winding lies about you so that you forgot why we were there, forgot our quest. Forgot all that is important in your life.' He placed his hand upon Elladan's shoulder and Elladan felt the warmth of him through his cloak.

I forgot even you, Elladan thought but he did not say it. He was grateful for the reminder; in the Haudh-Lanc he had been unguarded in his thoughts, foolish and easily swayed then by the dark spells of Suttungr. As he had been a moment ago.

'These are the Úmaiar of the Iaun-Gynd,' Erestor reminded Elladan. 'In the forgotten tales of Cardolan they are named: Thorendaw, Hrungnîr and Þráinn, for Maglor has slain Grippsenar. They are kin in power to the Balrogs. It was said that Gothmog alone was the equal of Þráinn. Do not underestimate their might, or their cunning. They cast spells upon the wind and in the air. Your thoughts will betray you and your heart deceived.'

He held Elladan's gaze for a long while and at last Elladan nodded. He felt intense relief as he did.

'I am recovered,' he said slowly, his eyes upon Erestor.

'Here, step aside for a moment,' Erestor murmured. Holding up his torch so it shone into the darkness, he drew Elladan into a small burial chamber off the tunnel, an ossuary for it had deeply dug shelves and although there was nothing now, Elladan thought they would once have held the bones of Men. 'My heart forbodes that we are too slow, but I do not wish to wake the Orcs, nor do I wish for Ascatar-axo to be found by a Wight, for if they do not have Maglor yet, they must also be hunting him. And Legolas.'

In the small chamber, Erestor flipped open the satchel flap. 'Before we go on, I need to know if the Palantír protects its wielder.' Nestling within, was the Lost Stone of Amon Sul, that had been buried in the ruins of the Watchtower for over a thousand years, forgotten, believed lost by all but the Chieftains of the Dunédain.

'It speaks to you, does it not?' said Erestor softly. 'It calls to you.'

Elladan stared into the open satchel where the black glass of the orb nestled. It seemed to absorb his gaze completely. He wanted to sink his hands into it, sink his gaze, call upon the secrets that he knew were somehow captured within it. A sudden exhilaration rushed through him. The air crackled and he thought that the Úmaiar must surely hear it, sense it.

Erestor nodded to himself and then said even more softly, 'I can hear it calling to you. Take it.' He pulled the sphere from the satchel. 'Take it,' he said again, emphatically, and held out the Palantír to Elladan. 'We have to know how to use it, what it does.'

Elladan looked at him warily, but Erestor nodded encouragingly and held the satchel open. The Palantír could easily be cupped in his two hands, indeed could have been held in one. Elladan had seen the other two Palantíri that Aragorn had locked away; the Orthanc stone that had allowed Saruman to be lured to evil, and the fateful Minas Tirith stone that had deceived Denethor and led to his despair.

This one was different. Untouched by the enemy. Slumbering for a thousand years.

He rested his torch against the rock wall and then straightened to lift the stone from its dark womb.

The cool glass was malleable, and he felt how his fingers sank into it slightly. Startled, he blinked. Not at all what he had expected. His eyes were drawn inexorably towards the obsidian glass. Black did not describe it at all. It seemed almost that the Night had been sculpted into this sphere and the torch's flames seemed to lengthen and stream towards the black sphere as if the Palantír swallowed all light.

And then Erestor cupped his hands beneath Elladan's, so that Elladan's hands rested in his lightly.

He saw Erestor's handsome face reflected in the glass, staring into the Palantír, and a light flared in his strange eyes. But this was not the torchlight, and no light from the Palantir and Elladan knew that the light came from the ring that Erestor wore, given him long ago by Celebrimbor. He felt the slight vibration and whir of it against his fingers.

Erestor's lips moved as if were reading something and then he said, 'The Palantír is a weapon of disruption and sound. It will use the alarca of the Song and ….' He shook his head then. 'No. This is beyond me. I do not understand HOW it happens, but I know what needs to be done.' He shifted and moved closer to Elladan. 'Look. Here. Bend your will towards it.'

Elladan did not know what Erestor wanted of him at first, but he focused on the glass, let his gaze sink as it wanted to and he saw with astonishment, silver lines drawn as if in the air above the Palantír, and these resolved into long chains of numbers and symbols. He frowned and echoed Erestor's words at first. 'I do not understand…' And then he saw how they connected. 'No, wait.' His fingers sank again into the cool surface. Something seemed to click, and the long calculations made sudden sense like reading a foreign tongue that he might have once learned long ago and had almost forgotten. He saw what he had to do, how he had to manipulate the sphere, and he saw how he had to press a sequence against the stone, where he should place his fingers, how to hold the stone to unlock its power.

'Do you see?' Erestor asked carefully.

Elladan nodded. 'Yes. It's… it's so simple…' He moved his fingers experimentally. A click and whir and a mechanism opened. Elladan felt something shift in the air immediately around him as if he were underwater. He stared in wonder.

Something deep within the stone seemed to reach for him then, a crimson fire sparked, not in the glass. No, it was not in the glass…. Elladan felt a recognition kindle in his breast. It was in that vastness of the Night. Not the Abyss. His mind reeled from it, from the impossibility.

He thought he was falling, and a hand reached out to catch him but when he blinked, it was only Erestor, still cupping Elladan's hands, holding him. The older man was looking into his eyes appraisingly, weighing up what he saw. Elladan blinked slowly, his lips parted in wonder and shock. But Erestor merely nodded and then straightened up, pulling away.

'Yes. It is as I thought,' Erestor's voice interrupted him abruptly. 'It will cast a protection about its wielder.' He paused as if thinking and glanced down at his ring. Then he tilted his head, deep in thought. Elladan watching his long black hair slide over one shoulder. There was something enigmatic and unreachable about Erestor, with his eyes so light hazel that they were amber. Wolf-like. He smelled of vetiver, myrrh and something else. Cedar perhaps.

Unaware of the intensity of Elladan's regard, Erestor said abruptly, 'Good. Here then.' He thrust the empty satchel towards Elladan. 'Put it away now.'

Elladan stared at Erestor uncomprehending at first. He felt distant, other-worldly after looking through the dark glass. 'You want me to carry the Palantír?' he asked, thinking it an odd request, but nevertheless, he reached out to take the satchel. Carefully he slid the Palantir into the pouch and closed the satchel flaps.

'You are a good boy,' Erestor with a teasing smile at Elladan's look of irritation, but then he gently cupped Elladan's cheek with a tenderness that had Elladan's heart thumping with hope and anticipation. He leaned into Erestor's hand but as he did, Erestor gently let it fall away, lightly as if he had not noticed.

'Your first duty now is to guard the Palantír,' said Erestor seriously, but his eyes skipped over Elladan as if he would spare him the humiliation of rejection.

'My first duty?' Elladan protested, trying not to let disappointment colour his words, 'My first duty is to my companions, to keep them safe,' he declared fervently.

Erestor smiled very gently. 'You now have Ascatar-axo.' He indicated the spherical bulge in the satchel. 'And as you have seen, if that power falls into the hands of the Enemy, we could have a new Dark Lord.'

Elladan stared at him as he made sense of Erestor's words. He looked at the satchel as if it contained a serpent. Then he said, 'I am coming with you, Erestor.'

Erestor merely held his angry stare and did not move. 'You know how to use it now.'

'As do you,' Elladan said defiantly for he knew now that he had been tricked.

Erestor held up his hand and the innocuous and unprepossessing ring sparkled as if delighted by its master's cleverness. 'Rithilmuilë is a clever little thing. She helps me to read such artefacts as the Palantír, but you do not need such help. It sings to you. And besides, one of us may need to go where we should not take the Palantír.'

'What do you mean?' Elladan demanded, but he already knew. He swore bitterly under his breath, wishing he might explode in fury, but the danger was too near. 'You have tricked me into taking this! It means that you can walk away from me, from the Palantír, so that you can fight your way to Maglor's side, so that you can lay down your life for him if need be!' Furious, he pulled away from the older man, shaking his head in anger. 'I will not allow this.' He almost choked on the anger, the hurt, the fear. 'You think you can beat them where Maglor cannot? You think he needs your help?' He pulled back, breathing hard. 'You will not do this. I will not let you. Here!' He shoved the satchel towards Erestor. 'Take it, for I will not.' He felt almost dizzy with fear that he might lose Erestor before he had even won him.

Erestor did not move. 'If you love me at all, you will do this. It might be the only way we can all survive this.'

'If I love you!' Elladan grabbed at Erestor's shoulders, wanted to shake him, to show him he was no child, to kiss him until he could not breathe, to strip him bare and to love him till the end of the world. 'It is you who pull away!'

'I know you love me,' Erestor ignored the last remark, and his eyes were gentle. 'And I have always loved you.' But he said love kindly. Not passionately. Not with desire. Not like Elladan felt. Erestor's smile too was kind, the smile of a mentor, a teacher for a spirited child. It inflamed Elladan more; he did not want pity! The muscle and sinew of Erestor's battle-hard body was lean under Elladan's hands where he gripped him.

Erestor took a breath as if it were hard to speak. Then he began, 'As a child you were always so …'

'I am a child no longer!' Elladan interrupted, he struggled to keep his voice quiet for the silence beyond the little antechamber was suffocating.

Erestor stared at him, but Elladan could not look at him, hated the understanding that must be dawning upon him now. The pity. 'Then you will know that I am right,' Erestor said with breath-taking certainty.

'This has always been about Maglor,' Elladan said bitterly. What he wanted to say was, has this never been about me, and you?

Erestor's head jerked as if he had been slapped. For a moment he looked confused. 'Yes,' he said slowly. 'It has. But you knew that I had sworn to search for him. Long ago I swore that, before you were even born.'

The air became intensely cold. A breath of wind murmured through the darkness, whined through the bones of the Orcs and one shifted as if the wind had pushed at it, exploring. Lifting Elladan's hair, the wind stroked a bitter cold finger over his cheek, down his neck. He shivered.

He opened his mouth, but no words came for Erestor only spoke the truth. It was just that Elladan had so completely failed to understand, to comprehend the fullness of that sworn promise to an absent suicide*. He remembered back in Imladris when he had guessed at Erestor's hare-brained plan, and though he had wondered at the obsession, the purpose behind Erestor's oath, he thought he understood for he made a similar promise to Erestor, saying with a smile on his lips, 'I will follow you though you ride as far and fast as you may. Whenever you look behind, I will be there whether you wish it or not.' And Erestor had conceded that if that were to be the case, then they may as well ride together so that he could keep an eye on Elladan. But then, he had exacted a promise from Elladan that was the sole condition of his company; that Elladan obey Erestor completely and without question.

It had been an easy promise to make at the time and it had not truly been tested. Until now.

Elladan looked away and stared into the darkness in abject misery and betrayal. It had always been Maglor for whom Erestor's strong heart beat. The wind curled round his ear, stirred his hair, brushed his cheek with cold, cold fingers.

But then he shook his head. 'Don't ask me to do this. I cannot just stand by and let you walk into their lair, whether Maglor is there or not. You have already said that Þráinn is as powerful as was Gothmog. And Thorendaw and Hrungnîr are here somewhere too. And what if the ring cannot protect you and Maglor from Ascatar-axo? How can I use it if I do not know?' He could barely speak for the fear that Erestor might go and not come back, or that he might come back but so beaten, so wounded… like their mother. 'Don't go.'

'I have to,' Erestor said too gently, unbearably kindly and he pulled away softly. 'You and I are sworn to rid these hills of the Úmaiar and the only way is through Ascatar-axo. You must ensure that the Úmaiar are sent to the Abyss with their master. And my Oath to Maedhros is to find and protect Maglor.'

'But it will destroy everything.' Elladan knew his words were merely words and had no power at all to change anything now.

In the tunnel beyond them, came the sound of heavy footsteps pounding through the dark tunnels. The air was suddenly bitterly cold. A whining, moaning wind like a dirge, or a long complaint, niggled and pressed irritating fingers into his ears, moaned and picked at him. It was unbearable and Elladan covered his ears with his hands. Erestor reached up and pressed his own hands over Elladan's and he felt the air pop as the ring enveloped him in its protection.

'Hrungnîr. It hunts us,' Erestor said. 'It knows we are here.' He kicked the torches over so the flames were doused and only Erestor's ring gave the faintest gleam so that Elladan could just see Erestor's face.

They were pressed face to face, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, staring into each other's eyes as the Barrow Wight approached. In the faint glimmer from the ring, Elladan saw that Erestor was looking at his mouth and for a moment, he actually believed Erestor might kiss him. He closed his eyes and his own lips parted in a gasp of desire and heartache so intense he thought he would ignite in spite of the dreadful danger and cold.

But nothing happened and when he opened his eyes, Erestor was staring at him with a strange confusion. Erestor sucked in a breath as if ...as if… what? And let it go in a sigh that could have been longing or pity. Elladan did not know. But in this moment where he knew that Erestor was going to place himself in the greatest danger, that he was ready to sacrifice all for his old master and lord, that indeed they might be parted for Ages of the world, he cupped Erestor's head and pressing his lips against Erestor's, kissed him.

It was not the kiss of a child.

When he finally released Erestor, he murmured fiercely, 'I will find you. I will find you though I have to enter the Abyss after you,' he promised, holding Erestor's startled gaze. 'I will use Ascatar-axo to rip apart the Doors of Night if I have to.' With one hand, he drew the Mergyll-Dagnir from his belt then and shoved the handle into Erestor's hand. 'At least take this.'

Erestor shook his head and seemed about to refuse but Elladan clasped his hand around the hilt. 'Please. I beg you. Do this if you can do nothing else for me.' He looked away, for his heart was wrenched with grief, for here was Erestor prepared to sacrifice everything for Maglor, and could he not just take this knife for Elladan's sake? He asked again. Pleaded. 'Just this one thing.'

Erestor said nothing but his breathing was hard. His amber eyes were wide, and his lips parted as if he might speak, but he did not. He shook his head slightly and shoving the dagger into his belt, he pulled away, and when Elladan reached for him, Erestor did not clasp him back.

Suddenly Erestor's face changed. 'They have him,' he said bleakly. 'They have him.' He flung his Warg cloak back behind his shoulders to give himself room to draw his sword.

Elladan did not need to ask to whom he referred or how he knew. It was obvious. He tried to catch Erestor's arm, but it was too late.

Without a backward glance, Erestor strode into the tunnel, where Hrungnîr searched hungrily.

'Hrungnîr!' he cried, swinging his sword insouciantly and as casually as if he were sparring with Glorfindel on a frosty morning in Imladris. 'Hrungnîr, you useless piece of shit. Do you hear me? I challenge you!'

There was a silence for a moment, and then the wind shrilled through the tunnels, moaned and whistled through the dark.

Elladan stared in horror. His mouth opened as if he would cry aloud but no sound came. He could just make out in the darkness where Erestor stood, sword in one hand and the other raised towards Elladan as if forbidding him. The ring glittered on his hand.

Hrungnîr came like a charging balrog but darkness and ice. It pounded its mace against the walls, so the tunnel shook with its thunder.

Who dares to summon me, Hrungnîr, conqueror of the Iaun-Gynd?

'It is I, Erestor of Imladris, Närmófinion of Himring. I have come to teach you some manners. As I have taught your brethren. I have vanquished Angrboda, Vörnir and Víðblindi and I have punished Suttungr for his transgressions. Now I come for you!'

Bitter cold swept into the cave and it seemed to Elladan that Erestor was swamped by darkness and shadow. A flash of steel swept through the darkness and sparks flew as the swords crashed and slid along each other. Elladan surged forwards but stopped suddenly; Erestor had bound him with the Palantir as securely as if he had bound him with chains of steel. He was right; they could not risk Hrungnîr seizing the Palantír for the Úmaiar would have an untold power of destruction in their hands and Þráinn would not be long in unravelling its energy and using it for ill.

He only saw dim shapes and movement, but he could hear the sharp clatter and ring of steel, and a grunt as Erestor stumbled. And then in the gleam of the ring as Erestor lifted his hand as if to defend himself, Elladan saw that Hrungnîr stood above him and his sword was raised high. It swept down upon Erestor, blow after blow until Erestor was beaten to the ground and then the Úmaiar was upon him, battering him down with its sword first and then slamming its shield again and again and again into Erestor.

Unbelievably, Erestor slumped to the ground. Hrungnîr stood triumphantly over his limp body and then, reaching down with one heavy hand, it dragged Erestor upright and then, like a slain hart, it dragged Erestor away, down into the darkness. So here Elladan stood and covered his face with his hands and railed against the man who had tricked him into this, into taking the Palantír, and whom he loved with all his heart, body and being, for whom he would open the Abyss.

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