A/N

Chapter 7! I thought I would be starting to wrap this story up by now, but I'm not even close to finished! Oh well… Thank you to everyone who reviewed or PM'ed, especially Sidewalk Surfer :)

Chapter 7

Lord Elrond brought down his sword in a crushing blow, smashing the flat of the blade on the head of an enemy. The unconscious warrior fell, joining the ever-growing pile of men on the ground. Elrond felt a brief spark of satisfaction, which turned into hopelessness when he looked around. There were too many of them. He was already beginning to tire; it was only a matter of time…

Had Morcion fooled him? He had followed the trails which, to his memory, led to the clearing the outlawed elf had described. But his beloved foster son was not there, and neither was Morcion. He struggled to contain his rage. If Estel was in anything but perfect condition when he found him, Morcion and every single one of his foolish men were going to rue the day they were born.

Suddenly, his horse reared in warning behind him.

Distracted, he barely dodged a swinging sword that would have sliced clean through his right arm had he not ducked. He clenched his jaw defiantly. He was hopelessly outnumbered, and he knew it. But he wasn't going down this easily.

Sidestepping another blade, he thought furiously. He had an advantage. He had overheard the men's captain telling them to take him alive, which meant they had to control their attacks and overpower him without causing severe harm.

He thrust his sword into an enemy's chest. The warrior fell almost immediately, without a sound. Elrond felt a wave of guilt ripple through him. These were men, just like Estel. The firstborn always had reservations about killing humans. The edain were considered inferior to them, with less resilience, less skill, and less grace. Slaying them felt like taking advantage of their weaknesses.

Elrond steeled himself. These men took Estel, his foster son, the last hope of men. They deserved every strike they received.

He continued to skilfully swing his sword, eradicating several more of Morcion's men. He was wearing down slowly though, and he took a little too long turning around to block an attack. The flat of a heavy iron blade collided with his head, throwing him off balance and causing him to collapse, nauseated on the forest floor.

He dropped his own blood-covered blade onto the leaf-strewn ground. It lay there despondently until the fuzzy figure of a man retrieved it, sheathing it in his own scabbard.

He dazedly brought up a hand to press against his aching head, surprised when he pulled it away and saw blood staining his fingertips. He didn't have long to ponder why that was, because two men immediately came up to him pulled his arms tightly behind his back, binding them together with a length of cord.

A slightly blurry face clouded Elrond's vision, but he couldn't see it clearly. Annoyed, he scrunched his brow in concentration, and managed to focus on the man's features a little more clearly. His captor had chin length mousey-brown hair and watery blue eyes. Something about this man… it radiated evil. How he knew that, Lord Elrond had no idea, but this man was pure malice. He dwelled on that for a moment, before another figure approached them.

"Commander Donngal, we must get him on a horse, now. The scouts have just reported that there is a small party of elves riding this way, and they are traveling fast. This elf alone caused us too many casualties, we cannot manage three."

The man in front of Lord Elrond turned his head. "It should not cost us a dozen men to overpower one elf. Lord Morcion will be most displeased," he said severely. "How far away are the other elves?"

The man in front of Donngal straightened his shoulders. "Mere minutes, sir."

The Commander flinched. "We must get out of here! If we lose this elf we lose everything, including our alliance with Lord Morcion. Is that what you desire, Lucien?" He said angrily.

Lucien barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "No, sir, never."

With an annoyed expression on his face, Lucien and two other men hauled the near-unconscious Elrond up onto a horse, making sure he was securely placed in the saddle. Mounting his own horse, Lucien, hastily attached a rope connecting his horse and Elrond's horse together, as the elf clearly couldn't control his horse, not in his current state at least.

The men were all well-trained, and in a matter of seconds the entire group had done their best to cover the tracks and began riding carefully but rapidly out of the clearing. Of course, if someone were looking for clues, it wouldn't be too hard to spot the dead bodies lying under the trees, covered in branches and doomed to dwell above the Earth until they rotted away…

"Hurry!" Elladan said urgently. Legolas pressed his horse faster, whispering encouraging Sindarin in its ear.

They rode as fast as they could, but elves could hear things from miles away, and the source of the noises were at least a few minutes further.

Legolas leaned forward, resting his head on his horse's neck. Glancing sideways, he saw Elrohir's pale face, nearly missing the panic in the younger twin's eyes. Reaching out carefully, he put a comforting hand on the younger twin's shoulder. Elrohir brushed it off with a reassuring smile. Elladan was a different story. The eldest twin had a calm, steely look of defiance and barely controlled fury set upon his face, making Legolas glad he was on their side.

The Prince of Mirkwood was barely controlling the feeling of dread that was constantly rising inside him. What would they find? The sound of battle up ahead had gone quiet, although the three elves had enough skill to know where they were headed. But the sudden silence had made them all feel uneasy.

Legolas, caught up in his own thoughts, nearly collided with Elladan's horse when the son of Elrond came to an abrupt stop. Lucky he didn't, he thought thankfully. Regardless of what situation they were in now, the twins would tease him to no end when this was all over. It was just their way of recovering from turmoil, mocking someone else. Shaking these distracting thoughts away, Legolas returned his attention to what was happening. The twins had slid off their elven horses and were crouching on the ground, clearly looking for clues or trails.

Legolas hastily slid off his own steed. Kneeling down next to the sons of Elrond, he desperately looked for a sign that Aragorn or Lord Elrond had been here. Suddenly, a putrid smell hit him. Blood. The twins stiffened next to him, and the golden-haired being knew they had smelt it too.

A feeling of dread washed through him. He scanned his surroundings a little more carefully. Sparkling in the sun, something caught his eye at the edge of the clearing, and he rushed forward immediately.

Legolas pushed his hand through the branches and leaves to wrap his fingers around the shiny material. It was a sheath. He pulled at it firmly, but it wouldn't budge. Pushing his hand further into the brambles to get a better hold, he recoiled in shock when his fingers brushed against something soft and warm.

He withdrew his fingers, dismayed to find them covered in sticky blood. He exchanged a look with a worried looking Elrohir. Together, they pulled the pile of brambles off the covered figure on the ground.

Elladan's face turned white. The figure on the ground was a man with wavy brown hair, lying face down on the leaf-strewn floor. Collapsing to his knees in alarm, he helped a panic-stricken Legolas gently turn the body over.

With a dull thud, the man was pushed over onto his back. Legolas breathed in relief. The man was not Aragorn. The prince turned to Elladan and Elrohir, seeing his own immense relief mirrored on their faces. He turned back to the body on the ground, looking for any sign of an emblem that could indicate where this man came from. Nothing. He turned back to Elladan and Elrohir, only to find the twins on the other side of the clearing, pulling more branches off the ground.

"Elladan, Elrohir, what are you doing?"

Elrohir shot Legolas an apprehensive look. "That is not the only body in this glade, mellon-nin."

Legolas's heart sank. He rushed over, helping the twins pull a particularly thorny bramble off yet another body. The branch pulled free, uncovering a man's body lying on the grass. Immediately, the three elves turned away. Nausea swirled in Legolas's stomach. The man's head looked as if it had… collapsed, for lack of a better word. His forehead had caved in, and there was an indescribable amount of blood pouring out of the wound. Beetles crawled over the dead man's mutilated corpse.

Elrohir staggered backwards, making a retching sound. Elladan reached out, putting an arm around his twin's shoulders, his expression just as horrified as Elrohir's and Legolas's.

"What did this?" Legolas whispered in revulsion.

Elladan shook his head. "I am a healer, and I have tended to many wounds, but I have never seen anything like this."

"These bodies are still warm. They were killed very recently." Said Legolas gravely. "That means whoever survived this battle wanted to leave, and fast. They even made an effort to hide the bodies!"

Elladan nodded with unease.

The youngest twin stepped closer to the body on the ground, examining the disfigured wound. "It looks as if it has been… kicked in?"

Legolas's brow creased in confusion.

Suddenly a crashing sound met the elves ears. Someone or something was moving towards them very quickly. The twins raised their blades. Legolas nocked an arrow onto his bow. His mind raced. The creature was moving much to fast towards them, it was too late to hide.

The elves raised their weapons, ready to defend themselves against whatever was racing toward them through the trees. A large white and red shape came hurtling through the trees at them. Elladan instinctively stepped in front of his twin, raising his sword to strike.

"Stop muindor! It is just a horse!" Elrohir yelled, walking out from behind Elladan, slightly annoyed at his brother's overprotectiveness.

That didn't mean much to Legolas. He could have sworn half the horses in Mirkwood hated him with a burning passion. Nonetheless, Elladan lowered his blade, but didn't sheath it.

Legolas looked closely at the horse that had come to an abrupt halt upon seeing the three elves. Beneath the blood, the mare clearly had a pristine white coat and a long, elegant mane that looked as if it had been recently brushed. This particular horse looked very familiar…

He heard a sharp intake of breath from the twins. He quickly looked over at them.

Elrohir walked to the horse, greeting it by ruffling its mane and stroking its nose. Legolas started in surprise. "You know this horse? How? We are miles away from Imladris!"

Elladan turned worried eyes on the prince. "This is Rochiril. The mare that our father rode out of Rivendell on."

The fair-haired prince's heart sank. Elrond must have encountered something that overwhelmed him, or he wouldn't have just left his horse. It was a point of pride with elves that their mounts were treated with the utmost respect.

Elrohir returned his attention to Elladan and Legolas. "I am going to scout the area, and make sure that Rochiril really came here alone."

They nodded. "Be careful, muindor." Elladan inquired quietly. Legolas gave the younger twin an encouraging smile.

Legolas walked over to Rochiril, taking the mare from Elrohir as the son of Elrond strode stealthily into the trees. Placing a soothing hand on the skittish horse's mane, he noticed the dried blood clinging to its coat. He turned to face Elladan. "Come and help me over here, I think she might be wounded."

Elladan ventured over. He removed the leather satchel that was still strapped to the mare. Together, they used the nearby stream to wash her. They thoroughly checked the mare, but they found no injuries, major or minor, only a whole lot of dried blood.

"If she isn't injured, then all this blood must be from whoever attacked ada." Elladan said despondently.

Legolas crouched down next the horse, examining her blood-stained back left hoof. "That may be, but I think we found the cause of that man's fatal wound." He said decisively.

The elves looked in the direction of the corpse on the floor, and back to Rochiril. Elladan bit his lip. "These men must have been part of an enemy group that attacked ada. And he clearly didn't fare well in the battle." He said worriedly, gesturing to the blood-covered horse in distress.

The prince stood, placing a comforting hand on his distraught friend's shoulder. "Do not worry, Elladan, we will find Lord Elrond, and Estel. And when we do, those men are going to regret ever meddling with the House of Elrond. They will get what they deserve, each and every one of them."

Elladan looked back gratefully, a glimmer of hope shining in his silver eyes. The two friends stepped towards the horse simultaneously, and began to wash the congealed blood off Rochiril's coat.

Elrohir walked silently through the forest glade, scanning his surroundings for any signs that someone had followed Rochiril to them. So far, he had found nothing. But that didn't put a stop to his restlessness.

Making sure the area was safe wasn't the only reason he had offered to scout the forest. He had desperately wanted some time alone to clear his head. On the outside, he had set up a tough exterior, but inside, he felt as if he were crumbling. He remembered his mother's departure to the Grey Havens. It had been one of the hardest times of his life. What if Elrond decided to join her? Elrohir knew he and Elladan wouldn't be able to live with it, that they would follow their father as well.

But that left Aragorn. What if Estel died? That would be so much worse than Elrohir could imagine. He was Aragorn's brother by everything but blood, everything that mattered, and he loved him deeply. If his little brother died, he would never see him again. Unlike with Celebrìan, Elrohir and Elladan could not visit Aragorn in the afterlife. As long as Estel was alive, the twins could never leave. He knew Estel would lose all hope if his family left for the only place where he could not follow, where he could never follow.

His heart ached with indecisiveness, struggling to make sense of this muddle of chaos. But he wasn't ready to leave Middle Earth. The lands here still provided him with peace, and happiness, and wonder. He had yet to tire of its beauty.

As he continued to pace, he heard the quiet sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, and the tell-tale swish of an arrow being released. He whirled around instantly, but he was too slow. Before he had fully turned, a white-hot burning of pain shot up his torso. His mouth opened in a pained gasp, as he had no air left to scream, something he was quite thankful for. He tried to look down at the source of the pain, but rapidly growing large grey spots obscured his vision. Futilely attempting to move out of the way, Elrohir braced himself mentally for another hit. It never came. His chest throbbed intensely, the pain steadily increasing instead of subsiding.

Trying and failing to find his attacker, or even see if they were still there, he stumbled. He stopped resisting the fuzzy grey cloud that was threatening to take over him, and sank to the ground, unconscious.

TBC…

Edain – Men (humans)

Mellon-nin – My friend

Muindor – Brother

Ada – Father

Ok, finally! That one took me a while, sorry for the late update :) Hope everyone likes it, if you do, please review or PM!