Ah'med
"He is dying! He is dying, we must find him, we must go." Aragorn forced out between sobs. He pushed away Veren's hands from his fevered forehead and wet cheeks, caught up in the urgency of his vision. But Veren caught his trembling fingers.
"What have you seen pen'neth, where is he?" asked the elf softly.
"It... it is dark, there is no air. He cannot breathe. It hurts, it hurts." Aragorn cried hysterically and then collapsed into unintelligible sobbing. Veren rocked him, murmuring soothing words that seemed to calm him somewhat. The others stood by unnerved by Aragorn's rantings, they looked about them uneasily, but there was nothing out there but sand and sun. They were camped in the lee of a sand dune under a tent of their own making. It effectively keep off the sun and sand, but they were woefully exposed to attack should it come.
"My lord," began Celebrin, but Veren waved him silent for Aragorn was at last quieting. He made a motion with his fingers telling Celebrin that they would talk outside.
Gelydh climbed to the top of the dune lay flat down. He would keep watch on their back trail. He turned and waved briefly at Celebrin, letting him know that all was clear.
But Celebrin did not return the gesture, he felt that time was running out, both for themselves and the twins. They must find them soon, or not at all. He turned as Veren stepped out from under the tent.
"My lord Veren," he said quietly.
00
Time had stopped and all sensation with it. It seemed that everything had come to an end quite suddenly. He could not hear or see or feel. Their was a numbness in his soul that crept outward to his skin. He knew that he was bleeding, but he could feel no pain. His lips were swollen, but he could not remember why. He could not feel his legs or feet. He could not move. Everything seemed so dim, almost as though all the light and colour had faded away. Where was he?
"Adar, ya ier le?" he whispered.
Ak'tun felt the joy of the hunter when his prey lies still at his feet. He carelessly caressed the elf's back and thighs, tracing the bleeding scratches he had made, with a stained finger. The scent of the creature's blood assured him of his domination.
"Ah'med!" he called.
The old servant hustled in and bowed low, deliberately avoiding the sight of the bloodied elf.
"See to him," he commanded.
"Yes my lord." replied Ah'med bowing lower.
Ak'tun stood and pulled on a robe to cover his nakedness. "Call me when he awakens," he said.
"As you wish my lord." replied the servant.
When the king had left, Ah'med collected a soft cloth and a basin of water. It would be cruel to immerse the young elf in a bath of sweet salts so soon.
Ah'med did not know where to begin, there was blood on the elf's legs and back, there were bleeding scratches on his hands and neck and other fluids on his buttocks and in his hair. His thick hair was a tangled dirty mass now, flecked with blood and soaked with sweat. The old man bent to smooth wisps of hair from the elf's face and was surprised to see his hazel eyes open. He had been so still that Ah'med had thought him asleep. But there was no emotion in that beautiful face and Ah'med felt his heart squeeze painfully, he had witnessed this too many times before.
Ever so gently he wiped his arms, back and legs. He cleaned his face and feet. The torn strips of silk he removed from around his waist. Though he knew he was not supposed to Ah'med unwound the silver cord from around the elf's wrists.
For a second there was a flicker in the elf's eyes and Ah'med felt a trace of fear, but the elf did not move, not even when the old man turned him onto his back to clean his chest and belly. But Ah'med was very careful when he began to clean between the elf's legs for he knew that the place there must be torn and tender. But it was this very fact that caused the first tear drop to appear, soon there was a flood that could not be stopped and Ah'med found himself cradling the elf in his arms and crooning to him softly. It was not first time that he had had to do this.
"Hush, child..." soothed the old man. "Ah'med is here, Ah'med will take care of you."
But it was a long time before Elladan could.
"What is your name child," asked the old man gently, when the tears had all but stopped.
"Elladan," whispered the elf...
Ak'tun did not return that evening, but he did the next day and the day after and the next... By the tenth day Elladan could not help the tremor that went through him whenever he heard the soft tread approaching.
000
The youngling was ill, Tariq surmised. It had not eaten in two days, no matter how many times she cajoled him. He was leaning against the wall quietly watching her with dull eyes. She snuffed at him pushing her nose against his private places smelling for infection, but he smelt good. She leaned back tilting her head in a questioning manner.
Elrohir did not protest when the bear-thing, for this is what she most closely resembled, butted him with her massive head. He did not much care what she did any more for he had come to the realization that he would spend the rest of his days beneath the sands, away from the sun and the trees, far from home and family, never hearing the sound of laughter or feeling the wind on his face. It would be so until the thing died or he did, or the rope around his ankle rotted away, whichever came first. But that would take many years, years that he felt he did not have.
"Elladan, I have failed you my brother." he said to himself.
000
They took lodgings in the first good sized town they came to. They needed fresh supplies and a place out of the sun and high winds. Aragorn's fever did not abate until two days had passed. By then they had already ascertained that no slaves had passed through the town within the last four months. Though he did not want to admit they had failed, Veren knew that as soon as Aragorn was well enough to travel they would return to Imladris.
00
Having muddled out the problem slowly in her mind and in her usual tangled fashion Tariq came to a decision. She caught hold of the youngling. He struggled so, but she held him firmly around the waist. Easily she snapped the thick vine rope that had fettered him so securely. She half crawled, half walked all the way down the long dark passageway, then up and up.
Elrohir could hardly breathe, so overpowering was the stench of the creature. His head bumped quite a few times against the rocky walls as they climbed. She was holding him upside down so that soon he was quite dizzy.
He fell heavily to the ground, winded he groaned and wondered what new trial was in store for him. But then sweet wind caressed his face and he gasped in wonder. Looking up he saw so clearly the light of the stars that suddenly he began to laugh, a mad and happy sound that travelled far in the night.
The beast watched in awe as the youngling capered about wildly, arms flinging every which way, even more interesting and beautiful was the silvery sound that bubbled from him as he danced and danced. Tariq sat back on her haunches and barked out her own cry of happiness.
00000
Adar, ya ier le------Father where are you