CHAPTER EIGHT – ONE FOOT AND TEN TOES

"The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places.
But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now
mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater."

Elladan and Elrohir were entertaining. In small doses.

Rory had come to realise that his friends were the most annoying beings to have walked across the earth. It had been two months of travelling, searching every small settlement they passed for some sign of Kyle, they had of course found nothing. Rory was at his wits end with the twins, they had the odd habit of finishing each other's sentences, and every night they would slip spiders into Rory's sheets to frighten him half to death. They took joy in his discomfort. Rory had deduced that the twins were sadistic.

They were nearing Rohan; it was about a two day ride away. The weather had not been their friend, the sky a foul shade of grey and the clouds hanging miserably concealing behind them the sun. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances with each other, whilst Rory was left clueless as to what the twins were smiling at. "What is it?" He finally asked, "What are you two grinning at,"

"We...ugh...found something in your...pack," Elladan concealed his smile. "A painting or something,"

"A painting?" Rory's eyebrows rose. He certainly wasn't aware there was painting in his pack. What were they talking about? "I don't have a painting in my pack,"

"Yes you do, It's a painting of you, wearing a dress," Elrohir snorted, "Did you paint it yourself?"

Rory pressed his palm to his face in sheer disbelief, "For starters that is a photograph not a painting, and second of all that is not a dress, it is a kilt,"

"A kilt?"

"I'm Scottish, Men wear kilts for special occasions," Rory answered dumbly,

"It seems awful feminine to me, I mean, It is a skirt!" Elladan sighed,

"Wearing leggings seems very feminine to me but I do not mock you for it," Rory told him.

Elladan and Elrohir fell silent for the first time in weeks; it was as if they had run out of things to say. Rory was about to punch the air, but the twins stopped dead, looks of excitement flashing across their faces. Rory watched fearfully as their hands fell to their belts and their fingers wrapped around the hilts of their swords.

"Guys, what's happening?" Rory asked. He received no answer. Rory assumed some danger was on the horizon and he cautiously gripped his own sword so that he would be as prepared as the twins. "Elladan-"

"Shut up Rory!" Elladan yelled. Rory's eyebrows squinted. "We have the advantage of surprise, you idiot. Don't ruin it,"

It was then; Rory saw what Elladan and Elrohir had seen before him. No less than ten orcs all lined up armed to the teeth in weapons Rory had been having nightmares about since he was a child. Axes, crossbows, swords, two teethed blades with jagged edges, Double headed axes, and spears...Rory cringed. He was dead. He stood not a chance.

Elladan and Elrohir circled behind a tree and Rory had no choice but to follow them, he had a better chance by their side rather than on his own in full view of the orcs. The thing that annoyed him was that they had had ample time to flee, but instead Elladan and Elrohir had chosen to run toward the danger instead of away from it. Rory, had already knew of their recklessness, it shouldn't have surprised him.

"Are you ready for your first fight Rory?" Elrohir grinned, "Try not to get a spear embedded in your skull, or an axe in the back of your neck,"

Rory felt his hand shake violently as they grew nearer the orcs. He could taste the adrenaline in his mouth and he could feel the intense fear swelter through him like an electric shock. He could die. However, a tiny part of him looked forward to the killing; he wanted to put his sword to use.

Rory groaned. Elladan and Elrohir were a bad influence on him. Before he had met them he had been a "Sweet little boy" Now, he craved murder and blood. He was close to the orcs now, very close indeed.

Elladan and Elrohir charged forward and Rory timidly copied them, raising his sword shakily to above his head. They met the orcs, who were now very much aware of their presence. Rory noticed how outnumbered they were, it was about five orcs for every one of them.

Elladan and Elrohir had already taken down two each. Rory swung his sword forward and it battered across the back of a an orc, it crumpled to its knees as black blood poured from the wound. He pulled his sword back and took a deep breath. His first kill. It had felt good. He retreated, a smile of pride upon his face, by the time he had the chance to look for more victims Elladan and Elrohir had already disposed of the other orcs, and they were staring at him intently.

"Your first kill," Elladan clapped. "Well done my man,"

"The first of many I hope," Elrohir added clapping Rory across the back. "Now we must check to see if they have anything worth stealing."

Rory sighed as he watched the twins scatter across the newly bloodied battlefield. They knelt beside each orc and Rory, like always. Copied them. He found his own victim and perched by its side, sliding his hands into its pockets. There was nothing to salvage.

Rory stood up and shook his head at the twins indicating that there was in fact nothing to steal. He was about to walk forward when he felt a hand wrap around his ankle. Rory froze.

The orc, his first victim. Was still alive. The orc pulled his foot and Rory fell flat on his face. He clawed at the ground desperately and Elladan and Elrohir ran forward, but by that time they got to him it was too late. The orc had lifted up its sword with the remainder of its strength and sliced through Rory's foot, severing it.

Rory cried out in agony, his body turning limp and his sight beginning to blur. He felt Elladan's arms around him and the absence of warmth and light. Once again everything went black. Was he dead again?

"I cannot believe he has lost his foot," Elladan sighed kneeling by his friend's bedside. "It is a shame, he had potential. Now he is a cripple...It is a tragedy,"

"He could have died 'Dan, he is lucky to be alive," Elrohir replied, surveying Rory's twitching eyelids. "A missing foot is a small price; compared to his life don't you think?"

Elladan mildly nodded and sank back into the chair. "I wonder how long it will take him to recover. I do not wish to remain here for long. I find Rohan terribly dull. The ale however goes for a good price,"

"Our friend has lost nearly three quarters of his blood supply and you speak of how cheap the ale is here?" Elrohir laughed, "You never cease to amaze me dear brother,"

Just as Elladan was about to give his witty response Rory let out a loud groan and reached out grabbing Elladan's hand tightly in his grip. The elder twin looked horrified. Elrohir snorted as he watched Rory's eyes open. The mortal took a deep breath and pulled himself up staring curiously at Elladan. Rory had still not let go of his hand. "Why are you holding my hand!" Rory exclaimed,

"I didn't, you grabbed it," Elladan retrieved his hand, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Fine, did they re-attach my foot?" He asked, peering under his covers. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged worried glances. When Rory returned from his peek his face was stained with worry and pain. "Oh...Oh...shit,"

"You lost three quarters of your blood supply," Elrohir explained. "You are lucky you are alive, you have us to thank. You are in our debt for eternity,"

"I'm crippled, I only have one foot," Rory spoke bewildered, the news still hadn't quite sunk in. It was too unbearable. "Oh...bloody hell! What am I going to do? I blame you, and you!" He pointed at the twins, tears prickling down his face. "If it weren't for your constant need for danger I'd still have ten toes!"