BUAHAHAHAHAA. A cliffie. I know, I know… I'm evil. But you won't be put in suspense any longer. Here comes Chapter 16!
Wargs...
Children don't lie... not about things like that. It might have been his imagination playing tricks, but... Elrohir sighed then, before waving the two off, lips pulling into the best smile he could muster, more for the children than anything.
"Go on, both of you. I've already seen the hunger of the Ringlo. Just do me two favors. Find the nasty, mean looking dog that dared to frighten the children... and please, for the love of everything sacred, don't fall in?" He grinned, offering a quick wink to the younglings, most of which giggled at his words, before meeting the eyes of his friends. I mean that, you two... be careful. And there are more foul things than orcs littering the forest, do what you can. I'll keep watch here, and alert the men who stayed from the hunt for food. He gave a light nod to each, watching them collect themselves and head off before turning from their meeting place himself to find the men left, urging them to arm themselves and describing the wargs, for he could now remember vividly the vicious wolves of Isengard. The snarling. The ferocity. Oh yes, he remembered.
The duo started off not feeling as excited about the promise of the rushing river. Once in the tree line, both had bows drawn and talking was kept to mental association. Even that was done at a minimum, both sets of ears peeled for signs of the "dog" that young Laquin had thought he'd seen.
I don't feel right about leaving them behind. Legolas admited silently.
Nor I. Haldir agreed, cutting a look over at him.
I have seen Orcs attack in the day, Haldir. I have an ill feeling, though I do not know if it is my nerves, or anticipation talking. Haldir stopped his silent steps and stood very still, reaching out to pull the other elf closer to him.
"What if they suspect that we think they will come during the night?" he whispered softly, knowing his voice would carry to Legolas' ears only. Legolas nodded, thinking the same thing.
"If that boy did see a warg...we were being stalked. In the day light. They are large, and very ferocious, but they are wolves, and can be as silent as you or I." Haldir nodded in agreement.
"Deep down I could feel an ill feeling, though I excused it for the river," he admitted. "But if they were silent, they had no orcs with them. We would have heard them, no doubt." Haldir paused for a moment. "Perhaps it is a wild pack, looking to pick off some stragglers." Legolas turned a lovely shade of white, and Haldir's already pale complexion mirrored it.
"Stragglers...like us?" Legolas asked in a breath. Haldir's mouth thinned impossibly into a grim mask, and he gave a curt nod.
"Stragglers like us."
Legolas shook his head and let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Well. That's rich," he commentted, pulling an arrow. "What if they are stalking us? We can't go back to the camp: they will follow. But what if they're stalking the camp and we're not there?" Haldir's eyes trailed around them a little.
"Legolas?" he asked suddenly. "How fast can you secure your bow, and climb a tree?" Legolas furrowed his brow, in curiosity, before a low growl from near by makes his eyes widen. "I'll race you!"
Quick as lightning both elves sprang into action, the both of them putting an arm through their bows and jumping up to grab limbs, pulling themselves up easily into the trees as the two large, nasty animals sprang from the surrounding brush, thinking that they had come across two skinny treats. Well. Not these two skinny treats, thank you very much! They hadn't counted on the unbelievable agility of the elves they pursued, and were bound for disappointment as they lunged upwards, hoping to catch one that way. But it was of no use.
"Males!" Haldir called to Legolas from his tree. Unfortunately, they were unable to get in the same one. "I bet you the females are stalking the camp. They are more lethal and cunning. These are mere clumsy pups." Legolas nodded as he looked down at them in irritation. Indeed. They were smaller, fluffier, and not as ugly as they usually were...though, they were ugly still, have no doubt.
"Well...which one do you want?" He asked Haldir, smiling slightly. Might as well make the most of it. Haldir looked between the two, seeming to consider it. His lips were pursed in thought, cocked to the side. "I'll take the one closest to you. More of a challenge." He called finally.
Legolas nodded and both elves steadied themselves on their branches with their bows. "Ready?" Legolas called, aiming.
"Ready," Haldir agreed, aiming as well. With a snap of their bow strings, their arrows sang through the air, meeting twin targets at the same time. With a great loud yelp, the wargs fell below, smote.
"I smite thee, Dragon Breath!" Legolas called in play, raising his bow in victory, and Haldir laughed shaking his head.
"Come along...I think we should go back to the camp...but I think we should go through the trees. I like to be up here where I can see everything." Legolas nodded and fastened his bow down correctly.
"For once, we agree," he laughed.
"Stay there," Haldir instructed. "I'll come over there. There is an easier path from your tree. I can see it from here." Legolas gave another nod and settled down to wait.
It was easy for Haldir to get to Legolas' tree without hitting the ground, and once they were close again, they both seemed to breathe a little easier. For a long moment they both just sat and stared down at the dead animals, glad that there had only been two, and glad that it had ended well. For them, anyhow.
"I heard a call in the distance," Legolas sighed. "I fear that you're right. They're being stalked." Haldir nodded and looked to the blonde prince. He'd just started to open his mouth to speak when a rumbling roar attracted his attention.
"The river!" Legolas gasped, reaching out to grab hold of Haldir's upper arm. Odd as it was, he was content to sit in the tree and just listen to it as the water rushed down to the east, beyond their vision. He could picture it with the sound it made, and it sounded terrible and great all at once.
"I wish you could see it," Haldir confessed to him with a regretful smile, reaching out to graze his fingers over his cheek bone. Legolas looked to him and scooted a little closer to him.
"I don't," he replied, reaching up to cover Haldir's hand with is own. "I would rather be in a tree with you." He turned his head to press a kiss to Haldir's palm before the warden could pull it away from him.
"Well, I almost feel honored," Haldir teased softly. A moment later, he perked to the sound of a yelp in the distance. They exchange a knowing look before making their way easily through the trees, back to the vicinity of the camp. Much to their horror, they could see one of the beasts just at the edge of the camp, and with a quick draw Legolas pulled his knives, beaning them at the beast. The blades hit their mark and the prince watched it fall, slumped over almost into the confines of the camp. Fortunately, a single bush separated it from the sight of the children if any happened to peek out of their tent.
"Ugh," Legolas hissed, hopping out of the tree to pull the knives free while Haldir kept watch. "They smell like death."
Haldir jumped from the tree and nudged the beast with his toe. "They smell horrid," he agreed, shaking his head as they walked back into the camp together, looking mussed and not happy in the least.
Elrohir finally had convinced the men to arm themselves, even if they were simply resting up for their stand on watch that night. Even the women had daggers sheathed at their hips, or knives in hand - which made sense for those helping to make dinner for the dozens of folk scattered through the makeshift camp. Elrohir, for the most part, felt more at ease now that everyone was armed. He didn't let his guard down, heavens no... but he breathed more easily knowing that no one would be caught unaware.
As he patrolled, he watched the hunting styles of each man, the way they carried themselves, the way they held their weapon, combining what he saw with what he knew of each person. Most were farm workers, working fields or raising chickens... they shared with each other for the most part, trading goods when it was needed, helping each other out as much as possible. Some were better at carpentry work, while others could pattern floors and dig wells. Still others were artisans and metal workers, blacksmiths and tanners. There were fourteen families in all, and ten horses that were kept lashed near the children - they would cause no harm to anyone there, Elrohir knew, and they were safer there. Safety (even the horses', for they would need them to rebuild) was more important than smell or comfort at the moment.
Every so often, the dark haired elf would catch movement from the wood that was not made by man, but when he peered to get a better look, whatever form caused the motion would grow still as a statue, or hide so well that Elrohir could not make out the origin. Whatever it was, they were stalking. Watching and waiting for signs of weakness. He only hoped that Legolas and Haldir were faring well with whatever they encountered, and could enjoy a few moments at the river before they returned.
Still, the camp was doing well for the most part. Hunters complained of a sense of being followed, but surprisingly nothing had disrupted their kills. Then again, they'd gone for small game. Rabbits, mostly. Nothing that would draw interest of a large carnivore away from larger, more tantalizing meals. Elrohir kept his vigilance.
And then came the cries.
A large, ugly wolf-beast had chased a man exploring the forest just outside the camp, and he'd barreled into the collection of people, panting. Whatever it was, though, it was smart enough not to jump into the mass of heavily armed people. It knew what weapons were, and knew to avoid them. Motions were made to guard the children and women, and he headed toward where the man ran from, giving the order to stay put.
As quiet as a phantom, he leapt into the limbs of the trees once he'd reached their branches, pulling himself up almost as gracefully as Legolas and Haldir had. Of course, it was –almost-, for Haldir and Legolas were accustomed to hunting from the trees they lived in – Imladris was not blessed with as many trees, nor was it cursed with so many intruders.
He moved from branch to branch, circling the camp and hunting for whatever beast it was that threatened his community. Minutes later, he saw one. It was a female, and a large one at that, prowling the darkness and surprisingly unaware that Elrohir was closing in on her. An arrow was notched to the string, and he let it fly seconds later, grinning faintly as he hear the yelp of surprise and thud of defeat, watching the mutation of a wolf's body go down. How many more were there, though? He returned to the camp swiftly, his expression grim. "Wargs. I couldn't tell how many - they're using the shadows to hide their numbers - but I saw at least two more, and I killed one. Be on guard... and don't let anyone sleep out in the open, where these creatures can see you. They will attack if they see weak prey... and yes, you are prey to them." And till Legolas and Haldir returned, they would just have to wait for the blacker dark of night... Orcs would either lure the wargs into attacking or scare them off, depending on how territorial they were.
The sound of daggers piercing flesh, then the tell-tale thunk of a falling beast nearby alerted Elrohir to the presence of the two elves - they'd not gotten very far away, apparently. I fear we're surrounded, my friends... came an amused, chuckling thought to each from the Peredhil as the midnight-locked Prince peered into the trees in the direction of the fallen creature, searching the branches more than the ground. There! A glint of gold. Come back to camp if you can... I heard the flood begin - we're here till it subsides, which will likely be about two days.
He gave a subtle gesture for them to join him in the circle... the wargs would not attack the large numbers within the camp - they just had to be sure no one left the camp till the wolves of Isengard were defeated. The children are fine... they've no idea the danger that surrounds us. But I've warned the men and women of the camp... they're ready.
His gaze drifted toward the trees once more as he awaited their approach, noting to himself that those that had been out hunting were all within the boarders of the camp by this time. The presence of Legolas and Haldir was like a beacon of light within darkness - the heaviness that had taken his heart immediately lifted, though perhaps it did not disappear all together, and a genuine smile formed upon his lips unforced. They refuse to come within the camp, but I fear what will happen when it grows dark enough for orcs to travel unhampered. This could be more than "bad"...
As the pair entered line of sight, it was Haldir's eyes that sought Elrohir out first, giving him a shake of his head. We were stalked by two male pups. They weren't anticipating us being so quick. Haldir held his bow, slack in his right hand, an arrow dangled between his gloved fore and middle fingers.
Legolas' bow was put away, and in his left hand he held both knives, having no intention of putting them away until he could wipe them clean. They've been put down. We had a nice advantage point from the trees. There was not much they could do with us there, Legolas added, raising his right forearm to sweep it over his forehead. We didn't see the river, but we surely heard it. Felt the ground rumble with it, and the wind that swept by. Legolas smiled at that, seeming content to have experienced that much. "It was very frightening to hear. More so, I think, than seeing it." He placed a hand on Elrohir's shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, then looked up at Haldir as he approached. As soon as Haldir's arrows were put away, he set his bow to lean against a post.
"It sounded terrible, as though someone opened a dam," the warden described.
"It would have been no worse if someone had." Elrohir's fingers lifted to rest atop Legolas' for a moment, as if soaking in the comfort it brought. Tonight would be hard, and the son of Elrond feared his pristine record of no losses so far that night might fail, even with the help of his friends. Never before had these disgusting excuses for wolves dared to enter the area - and though he never saw them before his accident, he knew they tended to stay to the north, near Rohan, where they had been created. Lips pulled into another grin, though, and had they not been under the scrutiny of others, he would have kissed them both, so glad he was to see them again.
"How many of the wolves did you see? I found two on our western flanks, and killed another a bit south of them... We need to rid ourselves of them before the orcs arrive, I think. Otherwise I dread the massacre that would happen should the two band together. But other than taking to the trees, I've no idea how to fight them. Do they have any weaknesses?" His gaze flickered between the two, hoping that at least one of them had dealt with the creatures before.
And knew how to handle them.
Just then, a small hand reached up to grasp Elrohir's, innocent brown eyes searching his own silver orbs. "Sila... Laquin told us the dog he saw was a demon, and that he's gonna... gonna..." But the small girl never managed to get the whole fret out before she burst into tears, latching onto the elf's leg. Elrohir, without hesitation, bent to pluck the darling up, bracing her upon his hip as he'd seen many a parent do. "Shh, no evil, nasty demon dog will get any of you. Haldir, Legolas and I are here..." He smiled to the two before focusing back on the child. Arianith, he recalled her name was. "We're going to make those wolves sorry they even thought to get a sweet girl like you." He assured, gently tickling the girl's sides to get a tiny laugh from her lips, then set her back down to scamper into the tent, already rattling off words of comfort to her friends. He shook his head lightly as he turned to face the two elves once more, the haunted look he'd had remembering his past now flushing across his face once more. "I won't let them down."
Both elves smiled and waved to the child as she'd glanced at them, and patiently waited for her to be out of ear shot before they went on with their conversation. "They won't be let down, Elrohir." Haldir assured him with a confident nod of his head. Legolas bobbed his head slightly as well, and then continued on about the wargs.
"The only weakness I can see is that they die, and that's the best weakness if you ask me," the Mirkwood archer said, trying to make light of the situation. A moment later, Haldir motioned to his eyes. "If you can hit them in the eyes, or the roof of their mouth, it will usually kill them with one blow. Though, anywhere in the head should drop them, you might have to finish them with a blade. I think the best course of action is to hunt them from the trees. But make certain you're relatively high. They can jump."
Legolas made a distasteful face and, after finding a bit of cloth, wiped his knives down, careful to get all the muck off. The last thing he needed was warg guts in his quiver or sheaths. In the end, that would not be a bit of good for their sense of smell. When it was done he put them away, glad to have both his hands free again. "Perhaps it best if we go into the trees now, and take care of them." He offered, looking up as Haldir reached out to pull a leaf from his hair. Legolas took it as it was handed to him, and put it in his pocket.
"I was thinking much along the same lines. I'm guessing there are about four females left, and at least one male, probably two or three, and a few pups circling the camp. I think it might be best if we take out the females first, if we can. They seem to be the ring leaders in this," the agreeing tones sounded from Elrohir's lips. He turned briefly from his friends and called out to the men. Instructions were given to stay close to the women and children and to keep watch.
Once settled, the three elves leapt for the trees, splitting up to better cover the area.
Haldir turned to Legolas briefly after Elrohir had disappeared into the forest and curled his forefinger under his chin, pressing his thumb to the faint cleft there as he tilted the other elf's face up. Legolas shifted his gaze from the retreating elf toward the taller elf curiously.
"Be careful. Be mindful that you are high," he murmured. Legolas nodded with a slight smile before they parted, going in separate directions. Legolas went deeper into the trees, felling an adult male, half despairing that it took a good three arrows to do it, so thick was the beasts hide, and so strong was it's will. Haldir had a little better luck with a female and a pup he found to the north east, taking them down easily. With each arrow there was a final yelp, and with each yelp he almost felt a tiny twinge of regret. They were animals, after all. Animals doing what animals do. But he couldn't look at it that way, and periodically his hand would find the little lump in his pocket, and his fingers would trace the form of the little doll there, and he would kill anew.
As for Legolas' luck, he found a duo of females skirting towards the south, and took one out easily. The other ran as soon as the arrow had hit her companion, but he got her easily when she turned to look back. For his part, those were the last Wargs he would see the remainder of the time he would be in the trees.
Elrohir headed south as soon as he was safely within branches, and caught two pups prowling the edges of the camp nearly immediately. He felled them without a moment's hesitation and once the grimsome (1) task was over he began his circle of the camp, keeping his form aloft as he did so. He could still catch glimpses of gold when he glanced out across the camp, easily mistaken for sunlight by humans and woodland creatures alike, but recognized immediately as one of his friends by Elrohir. Another warg went down by one of his arrows - an adult female, and he continued further
Elrohir had devised a system after the first pup. Grab a large pod of seeds and fling it at the warg, usually smacking it in the face. Once they were facing him, looking for whatever had beaned them, he would loose an arrow into their throats or eyes, whichever was the easiest to aim at. It was a good system, and one that never failed him. Two more pups went down, and later he'd a more difficult time with a male, just entering his prime. The crafty thing actually dodged one of his arrows! But that had been his last as well, and though he traveled just a bit farther, he noticed no more wargs prowled his area.
The Imladris Lord dropped down from the branches and walked easily into the camp after collecting any arrows that were not ruined from his kills. His spirits seemed higher as he walked through the open and nipped-short grass, his gaze noting they still had about an hour of daylight left. The danger would rise again the moment the sun dropped to the horizon. Thusly, he waited for the two golden elves to return.
Haldir sat in his tree patiently until he felt the shadow of the threat seep out of his mind, and it was only then that he made his way out of it to collect arrows, and the axe he'd beaned at one earlier. Words could not express how happy he was to be done with that task. The orcs would be next, and he was thankful they at least had an hour or so to themselves before they had to deal with that. And so he made his way back to the camp, glad to see Legolas coming out of the trees across from him, and Elrohir already there – greeting both blonds merrily and gesturing to a pot of stew the women of the camp seemed to be making for dinner.
"We should eat," the dark-haired elf uttered as the two Silvan elves approached. "It will probably be the last luxury we have till dawn..." At least they were safe for now. For one hour, they need not worry of orcs, wargs, or any other evil. And as no one had eaten since the night before, fighting orc on an empty stomach was not a good idea.
"That was a task I would be happy to not have to repeat," Legolas admitted with a sigh, throwing three broken arrows into one of the fires they had going. It'd been useless to try and pull them from the male wargs body, so he had snapped them off., and brought them back for fire wood. Every little bit counted after all, and it was better then chopping up limbs. Not that they would do that. There were fallen limbs all over the forest.
"Nor I," Haldir agreed grimly, kneeling down to clean the axe off and examine his arrows. Two were useless, so he snapped off the tips, and threw the rest into the fire as Legolas had.
"Eating sounds like an idea. Though, I fear I haven't much of an appetite," Legolas added as he looked to the stew, feeling only the slightest bit hungry. Haldir nodded.
"How did you fare?" he asked Elrohir, looking up at him.
The dark-haired elf shook his head slightly, glancing over his own collection of arrows - five - before plucking two out, snapping the heads, then tossing the shafts and fletches into the flames as Haldir and Legolas had done. "I discovered an easy way to take care of them... it's amazing how easy it is to fell them when you've drawn their attention toward you with a seed pod..." His voice sounded mildly amused as he cleaned the muck off of the three good arrows, returning them to his quiver once they'd been deemed worthy. He led the two elves to where the bowls were being stacked, picking up a container and a spoon before approaching the woman serving the salty broth. "The minute they're hit, they look at you... or lunge up at you... and provide an easy target." Now that he thought about it, his tactics were rather humorous, though the task had been a grisly one.
A thank you was given to the woman who'd dished out his meal, gesturing to a place near the middle of camp to sit and eat together, resting his limbs and easing his mind for what little time he was allowed to do so. "I'm not very hungry, either... but we ought to eat what we can, even so. It will be a long night, and hard without something in our stomachs."
Neither Legolas nor Haldir had much to say as they sat down with their stew, and began to eat it slowly. They watched each other and Elrohir as they sipped their spoons, content to be there in one another's company. Legolas was anticipating a fight later, but not looking forward to it after the stint with the Wargs. He thought he'd rather be able to do something else, but then again, he was sure everyone had that same thought. No one could be looking forward to what was coming.
Haldir was dreading it as well, but for slightly different reasons. He hated that there would be nothing he could do to keep the children from seeing the orcs when the time came, because whether they wanted it to happen or not, some would break through to the camp, and he would have to kill the rotten creatures in front of them. Thoughtful, he raised his head from his near empty bowl and looked to the little huddled group the little red headed girl was playing in. Did they realize that this wasn't a camping trip? Did they all fully realize that they wouldn't be going home to sleep in their warm little beds. That all they had in the world now existed in the circle of this camp? He set his spoon in his bowl, and touched the little lump in his pocket gingerly. A moment later he set the bowl on the ground beside him. He wasn't hungry anymore.
Elrohir, like Haldir, found it hard to swallow the mouthfuls he had – though he certainly did his best. Unlike the Marchwarden, though, he'd managed to eat about half of his bowl before setting it to the side, glancing between his blonde friends, a pregnant silence lingering. It was too much for the Lord as the minutes sailed by. Finally he broke it, his voice quivering as the light of day began to dim - the sun was starting to set.
"I'm scared." Two words.
Two little words.
They meant so much, yet took only seconds to say. Scared? No, no... Elrohir was terrified, though he would never let it show to the villagers. "I keep wondering... thinking anything could happen here. This… everything is different from the last two times. More perilous. And so many died then." He shook his head as though clearing the negative thoughts from his mind and tried to force a faint smile upon his lips. "But... we have to think positively, right? Keep our hopes up. Set an example." He was parroting, though he knew not -who- he might be echoing.
Elrond? Maybe. Arwen? Perhaps. Aragorn? Quite possibly. Elladan? Who knew? But the mask was sliding into place, a smile given to his friends, out for the rest of the village to see and take comfort in. Nothing would happen to them so long as Elrohir stood. He'd never allow it. As the sun descended further, casting lavenders and magentas through the sky, he unsheathed his sword, getting himself at the ready. The bowls had already been cleaned up, women running about here and there to take care of such things, while he, his friends, and the other men prepared for what could be a large battle.
Upon Elrohir's candid words, Haldir's head snapped up to set his gaze on him, his brows furrowing slightly in compassion. Legolas's own eyes rose to peer at him, though he felt sad as well. He thought he knew why Elrohir was scared, and he could fondly remember the high he used to get in situations like this. He didn't blame him for being scared though. He imagined he'd be scared too in a situation like this, if something like that happened to him. But then it was time to stand up. Time to get ready. Time for whatever would happen. All they could do was be ready for anything.
It was right before the final ray of sun bled from the sky when Haldir turned to Elrohir, finally seeming unable to keep his mouth shut about what he'd revealed to them any longer. "Know that nothing will happen to you as long as I am alive to see you safe," he vowed to him sternly and sincerely, perhaps showing his full emotion for him for the first time. He held his bow, an arrow already out, hanging between his fingers to be fully prepared.
"Don't be afraid, Meleth-nín. You are skilled in this, and you have defeated them without us before. I have faith that you will be alright." Legolas, who stood with them, just watched them quietly, smiling softly to see that Haldir had showed some kind of something before the enemy came. Perhaps it would lend Elrohir comfort to know that they would be watching over him.
"It's not my own well-being I worry about," came the soft reply – perhaps even too soft to be heard by the pair, but motion was heard within the woods and he silenced himself, making a gesture to the men to spread out, giving both Haldir and Legolas a nod. The orcs were right on time, grunting faintly in the setting sun. Lucky for them, orcs rarely moved without making sounds to alert someone to their presence.
Elrohir slipped out of the safety of the camp and into the fading light of the forest, sword at the ready, eyes keen and ears sharp. The very next thing the camp heard was an elven battle-cry and the shriek of an orc as he fell before the woods erupted in motion. The fight was on! Another black-swathed creature wormed into view, and Elrohir wasted no time in meeting his blade, slashing harshly. Metal clanged, shouts were raised, and another orc was dispatched before whirling to search for his next foe.
It continued like that, darting through the woods, picking off the foul beings before they could reach the camp's circle, Haldir favored picking off ones with a well placed arrow, whereas it brought a wild grin upon the woodland prince's lips to chase down another of the lumbering fiends, brutally slashing at it's throat to sever its head neatly from its body.
Disgusting.
Legolas had his bow ready, raised and knocked, all he needed was a good place to stand, and places to aim, and he'd be ready to take out a good chunk of orc. And he had his chance, sending arrows into the forest to get them from afar before he ran in with his knives drawn.
The first he met he swept his knives together, beheading it easily before both knives thrust back into the bellies of two more, spinning to face another one that thought he was going to surprise the elf. But he was the one that was surprised as Legolas shoved a knife into his chest, and wrenched it around, flinching as the foul black blood squirted from an exposed artery and fell across his fair cheek. "Ugh… bleagh!" he spat in distaste, before going at more with a renewed fury, none of them seeming to have come prepared to deal with him, and his companions.
More came, though it seemed not as a flood but a small outflow, a steady stream of the creatures. A few came at a time, in pairs or by threes.
Haldir scouted around the tent the children and woman hid in, three of the village men aiding him, each taking out whatever of the foul creatures managed to worm their way through. Only once did the notorious Laquin try to poke his head out and peek before Haldir heard a woman shriek at him horrified, and then the sounds of his griping and being drug back. Orc after orc fell by Haldir's bow, and when he was nearly out of arrows he would hurry to seize what he could from bodies before he pulled back and re-deposited them into new ones. When the villagers started pulling back towards the camp he became mindful of what he was shooting at, being careful to not mistake movement of man for movement of Orc, but then they were there together, fighting side by side. The Orcs were coming few now, and Haldir was relieved to have Elrohir in his eyesight, though a little unnerved to see that Legolas had yet to find his way out of the forest. He did not feel any easier until he saw the blonde dart out of the trees chasing one of the creatures as it tried to retreat to the wrong place it could have.
... And yet they kept coming! Even an hour into battle, when the dark-haired Lord's wrists were growing numb with the shock of each meeting of metal upon metal and his actions had been reduced to almost pure instinct, the orcs kept coming, swarming through the forest. Elrohir had retreated slightly, taking his battles to the edge of camp, as had many of the men by this point. His eyes grew wide as he noticed the despised Mr. Wickshaw fighting with everything he had, only to be double teamed by two of the slimy things. He immediately sprang into action, throwing himself between Mr. Wickshaw and the oncoming blade, blocking the strike with a clang that reverberated through his entire being.
More came and more still, yet Elrohir kept those that neared him at bay, back-to-back with the notorious Mr. Wickshaw. Funny how rivals could still watch each others' backs when lives depended on it.
Finally, after nearly two hours of this, it seemed that the onslaught was tapering off. A sigh of relief escaped him, though there was still a sense of dread. A feeling that something was out there – something was still a great threat to both himself and those he cared for. He was just cutting through the last orc near him when his gaze rose to see one of the larger bastards only a few yards away, an arrow aimed directly at him. He'd not the time to move before the arrow was loosed, his feet felt rooted to the spot! All he could do was stare in terror as it sped toward his form, eyes closing as he braced for the impact. So this is why he feared this battle... this last moment.
That was when Haldir noticed the orc archer. So large was he that the warden first mistook him for a Uruk-hai. He was pulling an arrow as he walked confidently out of the wood, raising his bow to nock it, his eyes set on his target before he'd even aimed. And when Haldir followed his gaze, he'd been struck with dread that it was Elrohir he had his sights set on. A desperate reach for an arrow told him that he was out of them, and as he thrust his bow down already starting to run for the dark haired elf, he looked to Legolas.
Legolas! Kill him! The call was absolutely frantic. Legolas was just killing an orc that had tried to flee, and upon hearing Haldir he snapped his head to look, seeming to know by Haldir's instruction alone what it was he should be looking at. Quickly he drew his bow, and he'd pulled an arrow from the body of a dead Orc, only to have the tip break off in its thick armor. And then desperately he scrambled for another, freeing one properly, and knocking it, releasing it just after the other archer's arrow had been released.
The rest he saw as though time itself moved through thick molasses. Elrohir stood either too fear stricken, or too stunned to react as the arrow sang towards him, and Legolas watched those grey eyes close as though bracing for the impact that would come.
It never did. Or at least it did not hit Elrohir. The Marchwarden had sprung to action and shoved him away, only to meet the fate that had been intended for the brunette he'd vowed no harm would come to with a loud and sickening THWUNK.
Apparently, being shoved hadn't made Elrohir lose his balance too greatly – he had not fallen, but had only been jostled aside. He turned to see Haldir as the arrow pierced through him with that sickening, heart wrenching sound. Arms caught the archer as he sank to his knees, holding him gently even as his sword stayed within his grasp, daring any foe to come near them
No...NO! Legolas was running, had dropped his bow still watching in disbelief as Haldir's body jerked back with the impact. For a moment Haldir held his balance, a shocked look on his face as he glanced around himself, and then down to the thick black arrow that jutted from his torso like a foul appendage. The sounds around him seemed to grow dim, and quiet, fading into the back ground as if he were hearing everything through a wind tunnel. He'd been struck. And it didn't seem real...There was no pain. No bright lights behind his eyes. No revelations of life. Just the cool quiet of the dim world around him... fading... fading as he fell to his knees.
"Haldir!!" The sob wretched from Elrohir's lips as tears stung his eyes. He kept the elf close, a desperate look within those greys as they found Legolas, begging the other blonde to come to his aid. The battle, in bitter irony, finished shortly after Haldir's fall, and the men split the last of the orcs upon blades before cheering their victory, not realizing (at least the majority of them) that one of their own had fallen.
Bitter shouts were given to any who could hear the son of Elrond, demanding hot water, clean cloth, thread, and honey if there was any. He made certain Haldir rested on his side when he fell, holding the blonde as if he were made of crystal that would shatter if dropped even an inch. All demands were provided to him quickly, though each second seemed like an eternity for the dark haired prince, his front already coated in the blood that seemed (to him, at least) to never stop oozing from the wound. Even lanterns were lit to give him light as he worked.
He had a reputation for being a healer in the village, though he'd not known where the information came from: he just knew what to do. And in this case? He knew how to help Haldir... if help him he could. Fingers moved nimbly despite being slick with blood, tearing the fletches off the arrow. He was actually glad the elf had passed out, for this would have been painful had he not. Orcs, unlike elves, barbed their arrows - meaning it couldn't be pulled out... only shoved through. And such was what happened, as tears continued to streak down his cheeks.
He had made sure no wood would splinter as he did so, but through his friend the arrow had to pass. He winced as it came out, but quickly set to work closing the wound. He disposed of the archer's quiver... tunic... handling him carefully as he did so, elven whispers against the blood flow uttered as he worked. The wound was sterilized, after which he accepted the thread and needle, stitching the wounds closed, both on his chest and his back. After that? Some cloth was dampened in the hot water, gently dabbing away the blood that coated the pale, otherwise perfect flesh that surrounded the wound. Then a light coating of honey was smeared over each set of stitches. Finally, he set clean cloth as bandages around the elf's waist.
Done with his battlefield surgery, he then checked on the elf's breathing and pulse, frowning faintly as seconds ticked by before the ghost of a breath was felt upon his fingers. Haldir was still alive, though barely. Come to think of it, perhaps Elrohir should have checked that to begin with? But the Lord was too upset to be bothered with such things at the time. And now? Now he was utterly exhausted, coated with blood, and shaken to the core. Dar nedh i calad, Haldir. Heb ed i dúath. (best translated 'Stay in the light, Haldir. Stay out of the darkness.') He turned to Legolas, who was undoubtedly somewhere near him, his own eyes glassy with grief. "He lives... but for how long, I do not know."
Though Elrohir had no eyes for anything or anyone but Haldir and his wound, it had been Legolas who fetched and held items for his childhood friend, watching with a pit in his stomach as Elrond's son worked. When something was asked for, Legolas found it and placed it in the waiting hands, worried and yet marveling at the skill one would have thought had been forgotten with everything else. He thanked Ilûvatar himself that Elrohir did recall his training – Haldir had a good chance of making it through this, if Elrohir truly did recall what he'd been taught.
All the while, Haldir lay still upon the matting he'd been set upon, skin far too pallid to be healthy. No, his flesh seemed ashen, and Legolas held his breath often, staring at the Warden's chest for any tell-tale rise and fall. It would come once or twice, reassuring that the stubborn elf was still among the living, but that did little to settle his nerves.
Had he been in any other state of mind, he might have questioned Elrohir's sudden capability. The whispers in his own language barely registered, though they ought to have brought shock and surprise to his face – Had Elrohir's memories returned so greatly? Yet he fixed only on the fallen elf, and the words reached his ears as if they were commonplace. He was only thankful for them – no questions did arise in his mind. Only when reassurance came that Haldir still lived when all wound-tending was over did he relax even slightly, looking to Elrohir… his dear friend… with haunted eyes. "He will live," he insisted with an iron will. "He is too stubborn not to," the blond reasoned, then met the storm-grey eyes of Elrohir, "And you are too skilled to let him die."
A stain of red formed upon the solitary twin's cheeks, peeking here and there from beneath the grim and blood that swathed Elrohir's skin. It was true that if Elrohir could keep Haldir among those that still drew breath, he would do so. But where had that ability come from? He stood fully to face his old friend, then wavered and swayed in weakness, and was relieved when Legolas's hands and arms shot around him to hold him up.
"Hot water and something to eat. Anything! Now!" the blond archer snapped to one of the villagers, in a foul mood that seemed so drastically far from what was normal. Had they never seen Elrohir heal before? It was a draining process, for it took more than physical tending. No, Elrond had taught his sons how to truly heal – which took from both spirit and body.
He sighed, then drew Elrohir off to the side – gently easing his friend to the ground upon a mat set for the both of them. When he turned back to invite Elrohir to lie down, his expression darkened considerably. The lordling was sitting quietly in the exact place Legolas had set him, staring at his hands as though the blood was still upon them. He gave a deep breath before kneeling before the Imladris elf, letting a grimy hand sift through those dark strands of hair.
"Elrohir… look at me," he commanded in a gentle, firm voice. He waited patiently after, till those stormy eyes fixed upon his own. "Everything will turn out well. Haldir lives, you are alive… the villagers are alive… We could not ask for anything more than that. Rest your heart," he assured his friend. There was no obvious reaction, but Legolas could see the other relax slightly, some sliver of hope in his shadowed eyes.
This would be a long night.
Food came, and the Mirkwood elf made tea with the hot water, cleaning his friend's face with what was left. The dirty, bloodied clothing was shed and thrown in a corner to either be washed or burnt, while some of the only clean clothing they'd packed was brought out and replaced the soiled fabric. Eventually, Legolas managed to soothe Elrohir enough to lay beside him and rest, though it took wrapping the other up in a warm embrace, holding him close.
Thus did the Imladris elf rest for a time, face buried into the shoulder of his friend if only to savor the comfort such an embrace provided. Still, he refused to remain down for too long. He rose during the night on occasion to check Haldir's wounds and dressings, changing them if they needed it, and checking to make certain the wound was knitting. He had no recent memory of ever working on another elf, and was amazed to see the wound already scabbing over… already healing… and the faintest glow washing his friend's skin. He'd –heard- of the healing abilities of elves, but this… this did amaze him.
By morning, Legolas was pleased to see Elrohir tucked against him, curled and sleeping in his arms – eyes closed. Whether he had known it or not, the elf had exhausted himself just as much as any injury might have, and the Prince did not have the heart to wake him yet. He shifted carefully so as not to jar the sleeping form against him, then took a blanket and tucked it about the dark-haired elf's form, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before rising and emerging into the campsite.
AN – ... don't kill me! I know, I know, I'm evil. But... he's alive at any rate! Didn't kill any of them. I'm forgiven... right? Also - brownie points to anyone who gets the title reference.
(1) oops, forgot to put this in when I first updated. I know that "grimsome" isn't technically a real word, but it's used often enough by enough legitimate writers that I'm keeping it, gosh-darnit. I like the word. Grimsome. It's nice, no? Well... the way it plays with one's lips is, at least.