Hah! Another success, according to the reviewers... Geez, you guys made me blush! See? (blush)
Responses to reviews:
Zammy - Ah, another faithful reviewer! I apologize for the late updates, but as I explained before... Or made an excuse of...
shadowfaxgal7 - Me? As good as CASSIA?! (faints) (regains consciousness) Dude, you are so unbelievably flattering! (BLUSHBLUSHBLUSH) And yes! Curse you, Sean Penn! I should start an asassination club... You sound reely cool too! You wouldn't happen to live in Georgia would you? We could hang! Wahahahaaa. Fangirls of a feather flock together... Yes, swords do ROCK. I wanna find a place where I can do that style tho - PotC and LotR. Yeah, I liked the communication thing too... I meant for it to be funny. Was it? (frown) Oh yes, character torture... So fun! And don't worry, Leggy won't get off the hook... Hee hee hee... Actually I don't think anybody gets off the hook... And yes, easter egg, FUNNY! I so choked on the pillow I had jammed over my mouth to shut me up. AAAAAH?! BROKEN ANKLE?! How'd that happen?! I'm jealous. You'd probably get to spend that time reading.
Legolas-Aragorn-r-hot - I think most of us wish we had your author's name. Thanks for the compliments! You reviewy, I writey!
Isarandel - Thank you so much! I will!
Whiteswan - Yes, I'm sorry, I am working on getting as much out as possible. There's limited space on the Simpletext program I'm using tho, so sorry about the shortness! Lemme know whatcha think!
Bakabokken - Ya know, I think I've used your name as a curse during kendo class... X GO HOMESCHOOL! And yes I am still working on Heal, and Rended 2, but this is taking up some time too, so bear with me! I hate school. I'm a whole lot older than I think I am: SATs are June 5, and colleges need to be looked into, so... Hah! Yes, I am the All-Powerful-Authoress! FEAR ME LOTR CHARACTERS! MUAHAHAHAHAAH! Ahem. And yes, love elvish. You seem reely cool, e-mail me sometime! (Um, are you a guy or a girl? Couldn't tell by the name... Prob'ly fangirl right?) And yes, I am also hooked on my own stories. How does that work? I always write what I like to see. Torture: (insert evil laugh here)
Shaolin 10- Hey, you know me! I know you too, you reviewed me a whole lot! ARIGATOU YO! You rawk. Here's more! And the answer to your question is in Bakabokken's answer.
At some point I may have to stop replying to reviews to make room for more chapter space, so look out. Just a warning! I will thank you all at the end of the fic though. (Theme music plays)
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Chapter Three: Hope and Despair
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Elladan rested his head against the cool stone of the cave wall. His sweat was making the dark stone slick, and one hand rested gently on his abdomen near the injury. His attempt to remove the metal was not one of his better ideas, that much was certain. Now the blade was moving painfully in his stomach; he could feel its sharp edge digging into the ragged mouth of the wound. The elf felt nausea take hold of him again, and he shifted uneasily against the steep wall.
I need to keep moving. They follow me still.
Elladan shook his head gently, removing the dark hair from his already obscured vision. The elf knew if he passed out he was doomed; the Uruk-hai would overtake him and that would be the end of that. He had lost too much blood and it was making him dizzy.
Suddenly he was aware of sounds resonating nearby. The thought of having to fight all those huge creatures again snapped him out of his stupor as a growl echoed from the passageway he had recently ducked out of. More and more became audible as the lumbering creatures approached, and the elf could make out a conversation.
Of sorts.
"...I say...eat it! We ain't 'ad ...worth crunchin' since we lef' Saruman's 'oles!"
"I's the leader here!" growled another deeper voice, growing nearer. "I says what we does with it!"
"Stinkin' elf," muttered yet another. "Makin' us hafta stay when the others have gon a'ead..."
Elladan's heart skipped a beat as he realized they must have sent a party of about thirty or forty Uruk-hai into the caves after him when he had bolted. Remembering the sheer numbers he had seen earlier, he knew that it had been no big loss to send that many either. To his dismay he hadn't killed more than two in his escape, and they were still on his trail.
And getting angrier.
"I call his 'ead," one insisted. He could hear the creature lick its slimy lips, purring with sickening apprehension.
"You'll not 'ave it, worm-sack, 'til I've had my fill of 'im! I owe that bloody thing for my 'and!" the leader snarled back, and there was a slight 'ding' as the beast slammed its stump of an arm against a metal-clad chest.
Make that one slain during the escape. The sword must have caught on his armor. Thought it was his rib cage... Morgoth take it, he cursed silently.
Elladan took a deep breath and tried to rise to his feet, using the wall as a support, but the blade in his stomach chose that moment to come slightly loose and it shifted painfully inside of him, digging into the corners of the wound. The grating of the iron ripped a sharp breath from him and he stuffed the side of his hand into his mouth to silence any screams. The pain radiated in nauseating waves and his vision darkened dangerously.
"'Ey, what was'at?"
The footsteps halted.
The Noldor's heart was pounding in his ears, filling his throat and cutting off any air as they listened carefully for him. He swore in silence as the sharp metal ground against a rib, and he bit deeply into his wrist as an alternative outlet for the pain. His teeth were drawing blood, but he was oblivious of the damage.
Despair filled him as he felt his control slipping. He had to remain quiet, just until they started moving again-
Suddenly a squeak broke through the quiet, accompanied by the skittering of tiny feet.
A loud smacking noise was heard as the lead Uruk struck the speaker. "You meat-'ead, tha's just a rat! Shut up and keep lookin'!"
Elladan's blood began circulating once more as relief and the clanking of metal armour allowed him to breathe somewhat. The passageway he'd used had almost been too small for him to squeeze into, but by turning himself sideways he had been able to enter it without aggravating the wound. He wouldn't be able to handle another encounter like the one before; that scimitar had nearly been his end. If the blade hadn't broken, the Uruk would have twisted further and skewered him, pinning him to the rock.
The Noldor listened, barely breathing as the slew of Uruks stomped away down the tunnel, past where he sat wedged in the small cave. He decided it was best to wait until they were out of hearing range, then try to move deeper into his newly found hiding place. It appeared as though this tunnel led a bit further out, perhaps to another opening. It was worth a try; at the moment he wasn't even four meters from where they were searching; he could see the torchlight as they trudged past.
After what seemed like a century, the dark creatures had finally disappeared down the tunnel, cursing and chastising the smaller Urk-hai roughly for the false alarm. Elladan allowed himself a small sigh, and dislodged his iron grip on his hand, letting his head rest against the rock. His vision was edged in black, and this time he allowed it to fade further.
His last thought made him smile sleepily.
Thank Eru for rats...
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"Aragorn, hand me another bandage," Legolas said softly. "His wrist is bleeding."
Aragorn complied and went back to checking his brother's pulse and breathing. The bandages were piled near a water bowl, in which they had been wringing out the stained cloth. With the Uruks only hours away it had been decided that no more could be spared, so they had been reduced to washing out the cloths and drying them to be reused when needed. The water in the bowl had turned a bright red over the past hour. Estel was not at all comfortable with how much blood his older brother had lost, and they began feeding him warm water and teas laced with athelas to speed the healing.
After being sure Elrohir was stable enough to allow it, Aragorn glanced over at Legolas, who was wrapping his friend's left wrist. He raised an eyebrow.
"It looks as though it was bitten," the prince remarked. Aragorn leaned to look at the lacerations, brow furrowing at the lack of blood from the deep grooves. Legolas stared at them for a short while before circling the white cotton cloth around his hand.
Elrohir murmured incoherently. Aragorn had thought him to be asleep, but the elf must have been conserving his energy. He leaned closer to hear what he was saying.
"Had to... be quiet..."
The two friends realized what he was telling them and averted their gazes.
Estel clenched his jaw and ground down. It was maddening. His brother was right here, within his grasp, with medicines and healing aids in abundance and a wound that he would have known how to heal...
...if the wounded one had not been alone, trapped in a cave so many miles away.
"Aragorn, he needs more blood. His fingers grow too cold." Eowyn had sidled up next to her lord and was sitting next to him on her knees, watching their charge's still form. Her eyes were clouded with worry as she looked at the pale elf under the blanket, who seemed to be struggling with every breath. "Can it be done?" she questioned.
"The athelas will help with that," he assured her. "But the wound is bad. I know not how much it will take, or how long."
She nodded and said no more.
The three of them had been sitting together in silence for a long while, waiting for any symptoms of toxins to appear when the Noldor had begun seizing. They had thought Elrohir's attack earlier had been reactions to a poison, but according to his cries, Elladan had been trying to move again. It had been a while before he had calmed down enough to fall back into the depths of unconsciousness.
Right then the prince was tying off the bandage on his wrist, tearing the end with his teeth and saving the end of the white cloth for later. Elrohir's hand reached up and attached itself to his arm, making Legolas look down.
"Elrohir?"
"Legolas... mellon-nin..."
"Shhh. Rest, mellon, you need to save your strength." Legolas lay a hand gently on his companion's forehead, trying to comfort him, feeling the heat that had been building there as his body fought off the recent invasion of foreign substances. He could only pray the wound wasn't poisoned and that their ministrations were carrying over to Elladan.
"Legolas," Aragorn addressed him, "stay with him. I will be back in just a moment, but I must speak with Theoden. I will see if there is anything we can do for them while he is stable."
The Mirkwood elf nodded as Aragorn knelt, putting his face into his foster brother's line of vision. "Elrohir? Gwador?" He was met with a soft moan. "I will return in a short while. I have some things I must attend to, but I will be back very soon."
A weak smile touched the twin's lips.
"Wouldn't... want to keep you from your duties... Go on and get out of here; you're mothering."
Estel laughed briefly, giving the prone elf's hand a squeeze. "But of course." His mirth fell away, and he suddenly bent down and enveloped Elrohir in a crushing embrace. The twin leaned his head against him, the smallest movement he could spare, and curled his fingers around the man's sleeve.
"I l-love you, little brother," he whispered, eyes fluttering closed.
The Dunadan smiled softly, remembering that moment so long ago as a child when he been told the same thing, Elrohir's strong grip pulling his small body from a drift of biting snow.
"And I love you, brother," he repeated the words Elrohir had given him that day.
With as much care as he could manage, he lay his body back on the soft bedding and put his hands by his side as he felt the elf drift into sleep. Eowyn and Legolas watched as the ranger stood, a grim determination setting into his gaze. "Inform me at once of any changes," he requested briefly, but not without compassion, before heading back to the entrance.
Legolas gave a small sigh and went to wet another cloth. Eowyn watched after him as the Dunadan disappeared through the hole in the rock, his cloak sweeping behind him.
He was still walking a bit stiffly, she thought. I hope he is well.
"He is well," Legolas said, not looking up. "He has sustained worse wounds and survived. Besides," the elf gave a knowing grin, "he wouldn't rest even if we had the time."
Eowyn stared at the prince.
"No, I can't read minds," he assured her. "But I do know what it's like trying to worry about him. Nothing ever comes of it, and he refuses aid until he's nearly dead. Far too often if you ask me," Legolas muttered. "His ribs are a bit bruised, as well as his back, but it's his arm that really concerns me. He's been hiding it since his return, but I can see how much it pains him."
Eowyn gave the elf a look. "You have answered two of my questions without my saying them. Three, and I may not take you at your word, master elf."
He chuckled quietly. Elrohir caught the conversation and laughed gently as well, bringing their attention to him.
"I know," he murmured, smiling. "Father does that often... even to us."
"Well, while I thank you for comparing me to Lord Elrond, I will have to decline that compliment," Legolas raised an eyebrow, holding up a hand as though to ward off the statement. "I will never be anywhere close to how perceptive your father is, or as talented a healer. Although in your current state, one might welcome that talent, my friend."
"He'd... just be aggravated that he had to patch us up again," Elrohir's grin widened as he pictured the look on his father's face. He tried to frown deeply and did an uncanny imitation of Elrond in one of his more dour moods, although out of breath: "'I swear to the Valar, if you two have any more encounters like that again, I will... lock you up in Rivendell and... not release you until it is time for your journey to the Havens!'"
Eowyn's eyebrows went up and she let out a laugh. Legolas was suppressing a smile and failing miserably as he let out a loud snort.
"I do not believe he would take very kindly to that impression," the prince remarked. Then he lowered his voice, a small grin breaking through his attempts to decimate it. "However accurate it may have been..."
"You would know,"Elrohir grimaced. "You and Estel have gotten that speech from him as well. Many times."
"Yes, well," Legolas allowed, drawing himself up in a stately manner and trying to appear seriously concerned. "That was a long time ago. I have not gotten that speech since I was four-hundred and sixty." Eowyn's eyes widened, but she held her tongue, intrigued by the line of conversation. A few of the other nearby humans were starting to listen in as well. Usually the subject of an elf's age was never breached.
"It is not becoming of a crown prince to lie," Elrohir said dryly. "I remember you getting that lecture last autumn... And you are what, nearing your three thousandth year? A bit old to be getting involved in... 'dogpiles', as Estel called them."
"I happen to know that both you and Elladan got it a few years ago, and you're both my seniors. And that wasn't me, that was Estel!" He sounded offended.
"Estel wasn't the one whose... arm was practically bitten off."
"Well, how was I supposed to know that there were more than three?" the Mirkwood elf retorted somewhat sheepishly. "I am not an expert on warg pack behaviour. And," he added, his growing indignation bringing an involuntary smile to Eowyn's face, "he was the one whose leg nearly had to be removed. All I was told was it was to be a simple hunting trip." 'Although, coming from Strider, that should have been my first indication to decline the offer.'
"Who is Estel?" Eowyn asked, a bit embarrassedly. It didn't really seem right to break into the conversation.
"'Estel.' It means hope," Elrohir explained. "T'was the name my father gave Aragorn as a child."
The shield maiden stared, then broke into a grin. She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Lord Aragorn referred to a warg attack as a dogpile?"
"Yes," Legolas said irritably. "And usually, it was entirely his fault we got into those messes."
"Really? I can name more tales that did not involve him, my prince. Shall I elaborate on a certain..." he coughed pointedly, "...cave expedition about half a century ago? And perhaps your father's response to your return?"
Legolas looked a bit pale. "Lady Eowyn, the patient appears to be tired. I believe he needs more sleeping draughts."
A few of the people around them laughed heartily, including the children. Eowyn smiled as well, looking about at the grinning women ang giggling youths. The lightened mood brought on by the two elves' fun and mockery was slowly helping to clear away the darkness hanging overhead. The shield maiden hoped it would last; her people needed all the cheer they could get before the storm of Uruks came down upon them.
Unfortunately, it didn't stay long.
Elrohir tried to chuckle and abruptly choked on blood, which came forth from his lips like rain. The laughter and jovial mood of the humans was crushed by a sudden strangled cry from the dark-haired elf.
"Elrohir?!" Legolas leapt forward to aid his friend, holding him up as he worked the liquid from his airway, coughing heavily and painfully from the jolting of the angry wound. A low moan escaped him and he gripped the prince's wrists so tightly the nails drew blood, knuckles white with unbearable strain. Eowyn quickly went for the athelas and herbs lying nearby, preparing the medicines for use. The Mirkwood elf stayed with him, encouraging him softly in the Grey tongue.
"Elrohir... hold on, it will pass... It will pass, just breathe, slowly... that's it, my friend..." Legolas held Elrohir in his arms, clutching him fiercely as another agonizing fit of convulsions swept him, rocking his body.
"Elbereth help us," Eowyn heard the Mirkwood elf whisper. The prince could only watch as his friend struggled, feeling more helpless than he had ever fathomed possible. With no comfort able to reach the ailing Noldor, the only thing he could think was to pray it would be over soon.
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The king's tone was rough, but pitying.
"Will he live?"
Aragorn was silent for a long while. "...I do not know, my lord. It was a direct blow to his stomach, and the blade went deep. The real trouble is that I cannot get to Elladan to heal him, and as he is the cause of the wound..."
Theoden sighed. It appeared as though another innocent... no, two more innocents would fall victim to the evils of the white wizard. As would his people were nothing done. For now, there was but the very sure knowledge that they would probably not last the night.
"I would request your help readying the men, but..."
The ranger nodded. "I will go to the armoury."
"What about Elrond's son?" the king asked reluctantly.
"Legolas and Eowyn are looking after Elrohir. They will tend him until my return."
King Theoden accepted this. "Go then," he relented. "I will see you at the head of the line." Aragorn's eyes burned a clear grey-blue as he met those of the king. The knowledge of what would probably happen before the night was over was understood, and slowly becoming accepted, he could see, in Theoden's tired gaze. But the king also caught was lay in the Dunadan's open stare as they regarded each other:
I will aid you as long as I can; I swear to my last.
Finally Theoden waved him away, and the ranger bowed, touching his fingertips to his forehead, and excused himself from the throne room without another word.
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The armoury was as to be expected. There was a shortage of men, and who they did have were a very motley crew. The younger boys had never even trained for battle, and the old men were so far out of practice they were more a hindrance than a help. Aragorn's heart ached as he watched them try to prepare as seaside dwellers for an inevitable tidal wave. He had been in battles with similar odds, and while he had survived and come out whole, (in a manner of speaking,) the horror of what fates had befallen his comrades was not something he wished to recall. It had been years since those battles.
But then there had been Boromir...
He sighed quietly and went to inspect the weapons, checking a rusty blade for weaknesses. He looked up as small boy who only came up to the ranger's elbow squeaked an "excuse me", brushing past him to join the line where the blades were being handed out. He was at least three heads shorter than all the others in the line. It was almost unbearable.
"Oi, lad!"
Aragorn looked up to see Gimli trudging towards him from the chainmail stores of the armoury, a mail shirt dragging from one hand and his axe hoisted in the other. The short being didn't look rattled in the least, and silently he applauded the dwarf for the deliberately obvious show of confidence.
"Master dwarf. I apologize for my disappearance," he said softly, greeting him with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"I saw the man who came today. Or elf, rather," Gimli stated in his usual gruff timber. "I also heard what happened. Are you well?"
"As well as can be expected," the Dunadan smiled mischieviously. "It was a long trip."
The dwarf smiled amusedly, as though picturing the scene. Soon though, he was looking at the men who surrounded them as they came to gather swords and shields and armor. The two watched for a while in silence, the only sounds being the shuffling of feet and the occasional clang of metal against metal. Gimli stepped forward and leaned against the box of swords, leaning forward over his axe.
Aragorn took this as the end of their conversation and returned his attention to the sword in his hand. He deemed it unfit, and let it drop back with the others. The ranger could feel hope slipping from his grasp as though coated in butter. The situation at hand, his brothers' possible demise, everything that had happened and could yet happen, even after tonight... it became too much to hold within him. The Dunadan felt himself say it before realizing he had done so.
"Farmers, ferriers, stable boys..." Aragorn shook his head slightly. "These are no soldiers," he murmured.
"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli agreed.
"Or too few," a voice said from one corner of the room. Aragorn looked to the corner to see Legolas approaching, his bow strapped across his back, cloak pinned firmly around his broad shoulders. His eyes were dull and dark, and Aragorn could see the blackness of desperation was slowly reaching him as well.
"Look at them," he almost spat. "They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."
At these words the entire gathering of Rohirrim turned to look at him, blankness, accusation and guilt in their stares. Aragorn looked at the elf in surprise. His friend was never so blunt as to directly address such a thing, especially not in front of the said people. Legolas merely turned away, continuing in elvish what should not be heard by the humans.
"As well they should be." The prince turned and faced his friend, his eyes questioning and almost angry. "Three hundred... against ten thousand?"
The Dunadan tried to placate him and himself; trying to rid them both of the horrible doubt and despair. "They have a better chance here than at Edoras," he tried to offer.
"Aragorn," the prince silenced him with his tone, voicing what he knew the ranger must already see. "They cannot win this fight." His expression hardened. "They are all going to die!"
The Westron exploded from him and he was stepping forward before he realized it.
"Then I shall die as one of them!"
Darkness enveloped the Dunadan, making his heart burn painfully, angrily as his resolve was stated. The words rang out through the room, falling as heavily as they been uttered. Aragorn's gaze was uncharacteristically cold and challenging as he faced his friend. The elf looked slightly abashed, but understanding and regret began to trickle into his expression, and he remained steadily watching the man.
The momentary lapse registered, and the ranger turned his gaze to the floor as he weighed exactly what he had just admitted. Silence was back with a vengeance, and it became too heavy for him. Aragorn turned on his heel and stormed out of the doors to find solitude, leaving elf and dwarf with the humans.
Gnawing guilt overtook the prince, and he knew he could not leave his comrade as he was. "Aragorn!" he called, following after him.
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Atop the empty staircase he found nothing but rushing soldiers and fading light as the sun died, burying itself beneath a grave of black horizon. The light would most likely ne'er be seen after this day, and it was pressing in palpably on the Rohirrim. The prince could feel it in each spirit as he passed, and it was the absence of this weight along with the presence of another subtly-differing burden that informed him of the Dunadan's location.
Legolas' footsteps were silent as he descended the staircase to where his friend sat. Again he was sensed as soon as he approached.
"Gohena-nin," was the soft request. "I am weary, mellon-nin. I have wronged you, and those men..."
"Nay, Estel, it is I who should be begging your forgiveness," the prince replied, a deep sadness taking over his light tenor tones. "I had-" He paused for a long while before speaking again. "Elrohir was weakened by another attack. I am truly beginning to fear for him."
Aragorn's features hardened with concern, and he looked up into his friend's eyes with growing worry. "How is he?"
"He is stable," Legolas told him gently, "but for how long, I do not know."
The ranger sighed inaudibly. "I must return to him. The only way we will truly be able to aid them is to find Elladan, but... for now we can spare no one, and time is running short. We would only meet them unprotected should we ride now." Aragorn squinted into the clouds from his seat on the stone steps. "We still have about four or five hours before they come. Perhaps we can keep him alive until then."
"And what of when they arrive?"
"...I do not know, mellon nin." A horrible helplessness entered the man's eyes. "I do not know."
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Whoo! Okay, it's officially 1:13 AM, I've been working on this all day, I'm posting. Please tell me whatcha think! You feed plot-bunny with nummy reviews, I write more stuff!
Nope, no poison... yet. Evil fangirls will rule the world. (P.S.: Last night I saw Van Helsing- TOTAL MUST-SEE! It was so much fun. Go now if you know what's good for ya! Go Hugh Jackman! And FARAMIR! WHOA! Totally different!)