Growing Pains- Chapter 11

Sorry if this is a bit later than normal, I was held up all of this afternoon (but then I'm pretty sure most readers aren't actually in the same time zone as me, so who knows, maybe you won't even notice!)

We finally get to find out what the consequences of Estel's decisions are. I am surprised- nobody seems to be at all sympathetic towards him!

A word of warning (though not for this story): on Thursday I leave for Barcelona, on a field trip with my school. I am gone until Monday, and will not have my laptop :( This means that there will, unfortunately, be no chapters during that time, but I will make sure to publish something as soon as I get back on Monday!

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas' face showed, instead of the anger Estel had been preparing himself for most of the ride, something that Estel was unable to recognise in the brief seconds that he saw it, before Legolas' mask shut back down again. For a few seconds, regardless of what was happening around them, the two of them just looked at each other.

Estel saw movement behind Legolas and suddenly realised that orcs were climbing the slope and coming towards them, fast. He froze as an orc came barrelling towards them, scimitar raised.

"Legolas!" he cried out, unable to do anything else as the orc came up behind the elf. At the last moment Legolas spun and raised his knives, meeting the downward stroke of the scimitar and stopping the orc's blade in its tracks.

And then Estel saw the other orcs approaching, and without truly thinking about it, without realising what it was he was actually doing, he stepped forwards and raised his sword. Just as one of the orcs reached Legolas, who had managed to disarm the orc he had been holding back and was pulling one of his knives out of his chest, Estel brought his sword round in a steel arc, neatly slicing into the orc's unprotected neck. It dropped down dead.

Estel could feel the breath shuddering out through his mouth as he stared at the orc. It seemed like he stood there for an age, watching the blood first spurt, then slow to a trickle, from the gash in the orc's neck. It stained the ground black.

Someone grabbed his arm, and Estel jerked his head up to see Legolas tugging at him. The look on his face was something akin to gratefulness, but coupled with annoyance and what Estel thought looked like worry.

Legolas' eyes flickered down the slope ahead of them, to where the thick of the fighting was. Estel's eyes widened yet again as he saw his two brothers in the midst of the orcs. One of them slashed at Elladan and the elf jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the blade gashing open his stomach. Yet the orc was quick enough to catch Elladan's arm, drawing blood.

Without a word Legolas almost jumped forwards, covering the distance between him and the twins in what seemed like moments. Orcs fell as his knives flashed left and right.

Estel stood for a moment, unsure of what to do, until he saw another orc take a swing at Elrohir. The elf danced backwards, and the blade missed, but Estel suddenly realised that his brothers were not as in control of the situation as they would like to be, and they needed help. They probably wouldn't want it, especially not from him, but wasn't the whole point of this that he proved himself?

Estel sucked in a breath and ran forwards, his sword held just like his brothers had taught him. An orc loomed up in front of him and he swung, not really sure what he was doing. His mind was so overwhelmed at this point that half the training he had done had just fled his mind. He just did what he thought was right.

With the addition of Legolas and Estel, the orcs started falling down faster, blood gushing from wounds and staining the ground black. Estel gradually made his way towards his brothers and Legolas, who had already reached them.

Elladan turned swiftly on the spot as his senses alerted him to something coming up behind. His sword came up before he realised the shape in front of him, now standing next to him, was not an orc.

"Estel!" he cried out. "What…?"

He was interrupted by the snarl of an orc behind him, and he spun with his sword already pushing up, impaling the beast and pushing it to the side. Elladan immediately turned back, anger now pulsing through him and taking over from the calm fury that normally settled over him and Elrohir, when fighting.

"Estel, get out of here!" he shouted, his blade flicking out and parrying a blow from an incoming orc. Elrohir, hearing the shout, turned around, his bloody blade in his hand.

"Estel?" The confusion in his voice quickly turned to anger as he saw his younger brother there, wielding his sword against the orcs. "Estel!"

"What?" shouted Estel back, momentarily pausing in the fight. He was not good enough to fight and talk at the same time, and had to concentrate hard for the next few moments as he managed to disarm the orc in front of him and cut his legs out from underneath him in a move he was quite proud he remembered.

"Get out, Estel!" shouted Elladan over the clash of steel on steel. Legolas, unlike the others, was not mainly standing still. He ducked and weaved in and out of the orcs, his blades spinning in his hands, and orcs were stumbling and falling down.

"It's a little too late for that!" shouted back Estel. "I want to help!"

Elrohir growled under his breath. "Not now, Estel!" he called out. "Get out of-"

His sentence was cut off when an orc stepped under his guard and swung the flat of its sword hard at his head. There was a horrible thump as the flat of the blade connected with the side of Elrohir's head, sending it whipping to the side.

Elrohir crumpled to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He landed in a heap, his legs underneath him like a broken doll. His head lolled sickeningly, his eyes shut. A trickle of blood ran down over his face, and began to drip onto the floor from the bridge of his nose.

Elladan let out a wordless shout as he saw his brother fall, and seemingly without any thought he leapt forwards and stood over Elrohir's prone body. The orcs almost seemed to back away from him for a moment, before they remembered that the four was now down to three, and they surged forwards again.

That was a mistake. Even Estel could feel the palpable rage coming off of Elladan, a cold fury he had never witnessed before. A barely perceptible sound came from behind him, and then Legolas was on the other side of Estel, his two knives in his hands as the orcs ringed them.

And then the orcs reached them, and realised they had made a bad mistake. Elladan was almost graceful as he cut the orcs down one by one, and to Estel it was almost sickening, the easy, elegant way he moved, the blade moving almost too swiftly for him to see it.

Estel saw an orc come up around Legolas, who was busy with two others, and instinctively he thrust with his sword and spun the orc's scimitar to the side. The next thrust caught the orc in the stomach, and he toppled to the floor.

And Estel began to understand, just a little, what rage was. A cold, deep anger that was coursing through him, but it was unlike the hot rage that could easily block your eyes and ears. This anger was different; this anger only helped him to focus, to forget the blood and the groans of the dying orcs and just think of cutting them down. And it was the strangest feeling he had ever felt.

And maybe, when he was not fighting orcs right now and could actually think properly about this, Estel would realise that the cold anger was not something his brothers and Legolas were strangers to. Maybe he would realise that this was what made them so frightening when they fought, because they knew exactly what they were doing, knew exactly where their sword was striking or their bow was aiming. This anger gave no room for excuses, unlike the hot rage that led to foolish actions. And that made it all the more terrifying, both seeing it in his brothers and Legolas, and feeling the first touches of it in himself.

The trio kept fighting as the orcs came at them. Elladan did not leave his stance over Elrohir's body, and it was Legolas who kept moving, protecting Elrohir by constantly trying to push back the orcs in all places apart from where Elladan was facing. Estel was mainly left to his own, trying to take down any orcs that made it past Elladan or Legolas, or any others that he could reach.

Eventually there were only three orcs left and they suddenly stopped, realising the numbers were even now, and they had no chance. Even as they turned to run, Legolas dropped both his knives and his hand went back to his bow. Two orcs fell to his arrows, and the third fell with the dagger from Elladan's belt in his back.

For a moment, there was silence.

Elladan dropped to his knees beside Elrohir, the cold fury that had overtaken him dissipating at the sight of his brother, limp and unresponsive on the ground. He gently rolled Elrohir over, catching his head as it fell to the side. "Elrohir?" he asked, and his voice was struggling to remain calm and controlled. "Brother?"

Elrohir didn't respond, and worry suddenly leapt up at Estel and grabbed him, making him move forwards and go down on his knees next to Elladan. His brother, the one who was conscious, didn't say anything, didn't even look away from his careful examination of the nasty gash on Elrohir's temple.

Estel felt someone grasp his shoulder, and dimly he was aware of being pulled upwards and away until he was standing. He turned to see Legolas, his eyes dark as he looked at Elladan crouched on the ground.

"Find as many of my arrows that are salvageable as you can," he said in low tones. "And retrieve any other weapons we have left, like Elladan's dagger. Quickly. We want to move out as soon as we know if we can."

"What?" asked Estel. "Why do I have to go and collect those things? Why can't I stay and watch over Elrohir? He is my brother too!"

Legolas' gaze almost softened slightly, before he shook his head. "Because you are not meant to be here, Estel," he said, his voice slightly bitter. "And I do not think Elladan will let you help."

Estel was about to protest when he looked over and saw Elladan's tense shoulders, the elf almost tensing them so much so nobody could see him shake as he pressed torn cloth to his brother's head. A sudden overwhelming guilt washed over Estel, and he nodded shakily, before stumbling away.

He watched as Legolas instantly dropped to his knees beside Elladan, his hand reaching out and gently pulling back the wad of cloth pressed to Elrohir's neck. He tried to pretend that he missed the look on Legolas' face that he knew meant it was bad, but he was not that good a liar.

He reached and tugged an arrow out of the neck of an orc, turning his face away as he did so he didn't have to see it actually happen. Straightening up, he examined the tip of the arrow. It was salvageable, so he slid it into his belt along with the few others he had already found.

Estel's gaze drifted back to where Elladan and Legolas were crouched over Elrohir, and he suddenly wanted to be sick. Was this his fault?

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas peeled back the was of cloth from Elrohir's head. "Elladan, I think the bleeding's stopped," he said. "We should go."

Elladan looked up from opposite Legolas. "Aye," he muttered. His eyes flickered over the dead orcs around the clearing, and Legolas watched as his gaze passed steadily over Estel shakily pulling an arrow out of an orc.

Elladan seemed to shake himself slightly. "Let's go," he said. Legolas didn't need any prompting or words for him to know what to do next. He shifted to crouch on the balls of his feet at the top of Elrohir's head, and as Elladan gently slipped his arms beneath his brother's back and knees, Legolas grasped hold of his head. He held the cloth in place and supported Elrohir's lolling head as Elladan rose to his feet.

Legolas winced slightly as the wound started to bleed again and a trickle of blood ran over his fingers. "Careful," he murmured as Elladan found his balance with his brother in his arms, though he hardly needed to say it.

Elladan nodded, and that made Legolas almost worry. Normally the dark haired elf would make some sort of comment back, but he had said nothing. Legolas would have been more worried if he didn't feel the same heart-wrenching worry and guilt that was making it a little hard to speak. Besides, he was pretty sure Elladan was also rather angry at a certain young man who was picking up arrows right now.

Carefully Legolas lifted Elrohir's head so it was resting securely against Elladan's shoulder, before looking over Elladan to where Estel was pulling Elladan's dagger out of an orc's back. "Estel," he called. "We are going back."

Estel looked up abruptly and nodded. Legolas had become quite good at reading faces over the years, and Estel's was close to an open book. Not quite, because he had seemed to have picked up his brothers' habit of trying to hide whatever they were thinking, but he was nowhere as good at it as Elladan and Elrohir were.

Anyway, Legolas could see the regular signs of guilt and worry on Estel's face, though maybe the guilt was more prominent. After all, it is the mind-set of little brothers to believe that their big brothers are invincible. But he recognised the dropped eyes, looking down at the floor, the slight quirk in his mouth that wasn't a smile, but probably meant he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

They made it back to the horses rather quickly. Unfortunately, Elladan had had practice at carrying a dead weight. As they reached them Estel ran ahead and untied Elladan's horse, leading him over. Legolas took Elrohir from Elladan as he mounted up, and then carefully handed him up to Elladan. Estel simply hovered in the background.

Swiftly Legolas mounted his mare, and nodded at Estel to do the same. The blond elf reached over and picked up the slack reins of Elrohir's stallion, and the four of them, Elladan holding Elrohir close to his chest, began to thread their way back through the trees to the path.

0-o-0-o-0

The journey back was not a pleasant experience for Estel. Legolas rode in front, finding the easiest path for them to travel back on. Elladan was next, supporting his unconscious brother in his arms. Elrohir's head was nestled securely against Elladan's shoulder, but as they cantered Elrohir slumped sideways until Elladan had to readjust his grip on his brother, pulling him more securely against him. Blood was still slowly trickling down Elrohir's face; it was staining Elladan's shoulder a dark red.

And Estel rode behind, his eyes almost never leaving the pale, far too still form of his brother. Guilt didn't so much as gnaw at him as flood him, whenever Elladan tightened his grip to prevent Elrohir falling out of the saddle, or whenever Legolas would slow and look back, his mask cracking and the worry seeping through, at least until he saw Elladan's nod at his unspoken question, that Elrohir was still breathing.

At one point, some time after they had crossed the Bruinen, Estel had pushed his horse forwards and attempted to come up beside Elladan. The words had been running through his head for so long now, that it was remarkably easy for them to slip out of his mouth.

"Elladan, I'm sor-"

"No, Estel," was the blank reply from Elladan, and Estel pulled his horse back a little, frowning. Legolas glanced back as he heard Estel speak, and caught Estel's eye. Legolas shook his head at Estel's half-open mouth, as the young man was about to speak. Estel shut his mouth abruptly and fell back.

Disheartened, he spent the rest of the ride home in silence. There were few words spoken at all for the duration, except when Elladan needed to direct Legolas on the quickest paths home. Estel was lost pretty quickly. These were tracks that were almost invisible to him, their entrances hidden by elven hands. Estel hadn't even known these tracks existed.

But they shortened the journey, by Estel's guess, by over an hour. It helped that Elladan and Legolas were not letting up on the pace, keeping to a canter whenever it was possible for the horses to do so. Though that did more to unsettle Estel. Apparently Elrohir was hurt badly enough for them to be sacrificing comfort for speed.

The ride home passed in a haze, countless trees blending into one green and brown blur that he could see out of the corner of his eye. In the silence, it was easy for Estel's thoughts to crowd his head, and main one that was screaming at him, clamouring for attention, was 'this is your fault'.

So inside his own mind, Estel only noticed that they had gotten home when the muted sound of his horse's hooves changed to the clatter of shoes on the courtyard of Imladris. Estel looked up in time to pull his horse up and avoid crashing into Elladan. Legolas had already jumped from his horse, leaving her standing in the middle of the courtyard. Guards were flooding from the various archways and doors opening onto the courtyard, and a part of Estel's mind realised they must have been expecting them.

He swung his leg over his horse's back and jumped down, one hand finding the reins and keeping his stallion still as the courtyard suddenly erupted with elves. The doors at the top of the steps were flung open and Estel cringed at the flooding guilt as he saw Elrond appear, and the anger over his father's face.

The anger disappeared immediately when Elrond saw Elrohir, unconscious in Elladan's arms, and the Peredhel ran down the steps towards them. Estel watched, feeling incredibly detached from it all, as Legolas reached up to Elladan and gently caught Elrohir as Elladan lowered him down.

"Fetch a stretcher," said Elrond, his voice terse. He hurried over and, as guards that had thought ahead and already fetched a stretcher brought it over, Legolas knelt and carefully laid Elrohir out on the stretcher. Elrond knelt and gently turned his son's head towards him, taking away the bloody cloth that they had tied around his head to stop the bleeding.

After a few seconds Elrond stood up. "Let's get inside," he said softly, and he turned to head on one of the tracks that would take them on a smooth path to the healing wards.

Elladan, who had dismounted and was standing by the side of the stretcher, nodded at the glance he got from his father. Guards had stepped forwards to take the stretcher, but with a look the two at the front backed off, and Elladan stepped forwards. On the other side Legolas did the same, and together, with two other guards at the back, they smoothly picked up the stretcher and began to take it inside.

They passed Estel, who was standing there feeling rather in the background, and disconnected from everything that was happening, and he saw Elladan's face. It frightened him. His brother's face was completely blank, his eyes not really looking at anything at all. When Estel was a very young child, he had found both Elladan and Elrohir's grey, steel eyes slightly scary. They looked so old. As he had grown up, though, the feeling had vanished when he learnt that they were his brothers and would look after him. But now the feeling crept back in, upon seeing Elladan's face, and for the first time in a while Estel realised how old his brothers were.

They headed inside, Estel trailing all but forgotten behind the stretcher. Other than the two guards that were carrying the end of the stretcher, there were no other elves with them. Estel didn't know where Glorfindel was; if he could be here, if he knew, then he would. But he was not surprised that Elladan was there carrying the stretcher. In fact, he was a little surprised one of the guards had gone to pick up one of the bars of the stretcher in the first place.

He must have been around thirteen when Elladan had been thrown from a young horse that they had been trying to train. The horse had actually been for Estel, his first proper horse after the pony he had been riding for years. But the young horse had reared and thrown Elladan, and he had hit his head and knocked himself out.

Estel remembered being there and watching when the horse had gone up, and had completely panicked. Elladan had simply been lying there, terrifyingly still, and Estel simply hadn't known what to do. When remembering, he was sure he had been screaming, but at the time he couldn't hear anything.

Elrohir had been nearby, and had come running at Estel's screams. Upon seeing his brother's still form he had instantly known exactly what to do. Others had come running at Estel's scream, and Estel vaguely remembered Glorfindel picking him up and helping him walk inside, but it had been Elrohir who had been in charge. Glorfindel hadn't even tried to interfere, letting Elrohir look after his brother, who had suffered a broken arm and a bad concussion from the fall. At the time, Estel didn't really understand why Elrohir was doing it all.

Elladan had explained later to him, when he was conscious and coherent. They were brothers, and they looked out for each other. At the time, Estel knew about the long trips that his brothers sometimes took, but didn't wholly understand them. But after Elladan had spoken to him, he understood that sometimes it was only the two of them against everything. It had become instinct for them to watch each other's backs, and to look after the other when they were hurt. Even in the safe realm of Imladris it was habit.

They got inside, and carefully Elrohir was moved from the stretcher to one of the beds. The two guards left and Legolas sat down on the neighbouring bed. Estel noticed he was keeping his ankle, the one injured from the snare, carefully off the floor, and Estel suspected he had hurt it again.

Elladan hovered at the end of the bed, at least until Legolas glared at him, and then he sat down next to Legolas. The glare wasn't real, though, and Legolas' gaze softened immediately as Elladan sat on the bed. His hand found Elladan's shoulder, and Estel watched, leaning against the wall and feeling as if he was standing on the other side of a window. They watched as Elrond began to look over Elrohir.

Elrond sighed slightly as he turned Elrohir's head to get a better look at the gash there. He should have known something like this would happen. It seemed to happen more often than not. His face was schooled into a blank expression. It was a habit, so as to not let any watchers know of the person's condition, though it was not really any use with his own sons. Elrond could not hide much at all from Elladan when it was to do with Elrohir. And Legolas, too, would be hard to hide things from. Anything he did not pick up on, he would infer from Elladan's reaction.

"Ai, ion," Elrond muttered as he gently examined the gash across Elrohir's temple. "What have you done?"

To Be Continued...

Poor Elrohir... And poor Estel! He is feeling pretty guilty now! I hope this isn't too much of a cliffhanger...

Next chapter, and final one until Monday, will be coming up on Wednesday.