One word: TROY. Two words: Orlando rocked. The innocent, inexperienced, pitiful, ADORABLE little brother thing was so CUTE! (Not to mention different from the other roles...) Did anyone else get the urge to 'awww' and cry in sympathy when Paris dragged himself to Hector and clung to his leg?
Oh, and PLEASE make sure you read the real Iliad. We analysed that book from top to bottom and back again in World Lit, so it was very frustrating: on one level, I hated what they'd done, but on another, I still loved the movie! They screwed the plot up UNBELIEVABLY bad and didn't portray the characters in... well, character. The motivations and personalities were completely different. Ugh. All in all, by itself though? GREAT MOVIE. I've seen it twice in three days.
Now, I am sure we all agree: DEATH TO THE QUICK-CHECK REVISING THINGIE. IT DELETES EVERYTHING IN MY SIMPLETEXT PROGRAM. No italics, no bold, no stars- WAHH! I agree with Nili. I want my stars back, and I don't care if I'm whining like a two-year-old. And I HAVE A NEW BEST FRIEND! Bakabokken, you rock. YOU ARE ME. I SWEAR! We talked for like two hours on the phone, it's a dratted shame we don't live in the same STATE!
Warning: Yes, I made up the names of the new characters. No, none of them are Mary Sues. If someone out there is fluent enough in Elvish or Old English to see that I accidentally named someone "Duck Poop" or " Garbage Disposal", please do us all a favor and tell me, hm? I'll see if I have room for review responses at the end of the chappie.
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Chapter Four: Cry for Help
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She still couldn't believe it.
It was almost as though she were in the midst of a dream, a very cruel dream from which she fully expected to awake at any moment. The soldier had pulled her from Gaered's side and forced her to return to the cave from whence they'd come. Her husband had looked at her as he was led away, and in that moment, from the very second his eyes fixed upon her with that knowing, loving stare, she had been trapped in a horrible nightmare that was manifesting harshly before her mind's eye.
A nightmare in the form of her spouse's mangled body.
"Erhia, please, try and take some water, will you?" The younger woman next to her had stopped encouraging the now sleeping pair of children in her lap, and held out a small skin flask to the lone wife. "You'll pass out if you don't drink."
Erhia's eyes were vacantly focused on her shoes as she sat crosslegged on the floor. The ragged blanket around her shoulders matched her clothing perfectly, and the shoes were the only thing different enough to look at. They were made of a soft, light-coloured leather and were tied on at the ankle. It was that tie that her fingers discovered, and the ends of the hemp were frayed from fiddling with it for so long. Her hand never wavered, and the proffered flask was ignored.
The younger woman, Nella, sighed when she received no response.
"Erhia. He may yet return," Nella pleaded, pushing back a few strands of dirty-blond hair from the woman's solemn face as she searched it for comprehension, flipping away her own lighter tresses. "We don't know, we don't know anything. Gaered and Telen may yet return."
"...I had a vision, Nella." She looked up with dull eyes. "Our men were dead. All of them were dead. Their bodies were piled on the hornburg, and beyond the deeping wall." Erhia pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "The only thing we can hope for now is that they defeat the Uruk-hai as well, or no one will survive."
A crying moan echoed from behind the stalagmites they'd tucked themselves in against. The woman nodded in the direction of the pained noise.
"It has already begun."
Nella shuddered as she thought of when that dark-haired elf had first been brought to the glittering caves.
Those screams... from what she'd heard, he wouldn't last much longer. It was truly terrible to see one of the legendary beings in such dire straits; the masculine, strangled cries from the Firstborn as his friend had held him were still reverberating in her memory.
Fear thrilled mercilessly down her spine. That could be her husband in only a few hours.
Another shout for more water came from their Lady Eowyn, and they looked up with pity in their eyes. "I do not believe I have ever seen a man survive a wound like that," Nella murmured. "I feel for both of those elves." The blond elf had left a few minutes ago, promising to return quickly.
Erhia said nothing, but stared in the direction of the fallen Firstborn. She did indeed lament his distress. The numbness that had overtaken her was slowly melting away with each sigh that the elf gave, and over the past few hours he'd been there, she realized more and more how much his plight was reaching her. A groan that was almost a sob proved to be her undoing.
Before the other woman could say anything, Erhia had risen and walked to the edge of the stalagmite wall, peering out from behind the pillar of rock.
He was truly a mess.
The Noldor elf's face was white as a sheet, the heavy perspiration giving it a sheen like that of newly-fallen snow. His hair was stuck to the sides of his face, soaked with sweat and tangled under him in a small pool of dark tresses. The bandages and bowl filled with what was once water were now dyed a dark red, and the coppery tang of blood flooded the air.
The elf's well-defined muscles, while visible, were not as noticeable now as the slightness of his frame, which gave the impression of extreme fragility. It seemed as though he were capable of shattering at any moment. His bare chest was heaving with strained, wheezing gasps that he tried in vain to suppress, and the lower part of his torso was swathed heavily in bandages. Even so, the stain of crimson was growing larger as his body tried to send life fluids to the rest of him.
Erhia's heart ached in a desire to soothe the young-looking elf as another gasping groan was released from his lips. Lady Eowyn whispered tenderly to him as she held his arm, trying to calm the dark-haired being as much as possible while she lifted the dressings to apply more herbs. He flinched and pulled into himself slightly, refusing to react verbally as the cloth was peeled from the mouth of the wound.
Eowyn reassured him softly, reaching for more of the crushed, dried plants to sprinkle over his torn flesh. But she started and stared in surprise as her hand met only the smooth clay bottom of the bowl.
They had run out of the healing herbs.
Eowyn cried out in shock and dismay as she searched around her for more of the clotting weed, only to find bare ground.
No, no, no, no, NO, she screamed mentally.
That couldn't be all they had left. If they didn't find more soon the effects of the plant would wane, and that would not be pleasant for anyone, least of all Elrohir, considering how badly he was reacting even with the medicine. She whipped her head 'round and yelled to the first person she laid eyes on.
"You there! Keep watch over him 'till I return!"
The wide-eyed stare the woman gave her was just comprehending enough for the shield maiden to chance leaving them.
I will try and find Lord Aragorn; perhaps he has more on his person,she thought, her mind racing. Eowyn tore up the passageway in a flurry of golden hair and flowing robes, leaving the bewildered Rohirrim woman standing frozen behind her.
Erhia gaped in shock at the task she had just been assigned. How was she to comfort an elf? The woman had never been trained in healing an injury as severe as this. What would she do if he began seizing again? The thought left her mouth dry and her insides writhing.
It is well, I can handle this, she told herself, not really believing it. Abruptly the pleading in her lady's eyes came back to her, and the woman stepped forward to the edge of the pallet.
The weakened elf hadn't moved, and now he was drawing half-hearted breaths that rasped in the heavy silence. Erhia knelt carefully by his side and sat down on her legs. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, and waited for acknowledgement. For a long while he remained as he was, but then he took a slightly larger breath, trying to fill his lungs as completely as they allowed, and his chest spasmed sharply. He gasped as agony flared in his ribcage.
"E-Eowyn... Eowyn?" The Noldor swallowed, turning his head to the side. His watering eyes searched for hers.
"Um. No, I- I am Erhia. Lady Eowyn has gone to fetch more herbs."
"Oh... forgive me... I cannot s-see very well..."
There was quiet once more, broken only by the wounded elf's attempts to calm himself. He failed. "I- thank you for you kindness, Lady Erhia," he managed. "I did not wish to be such a burden..."
That remark left her confused. He had traveled long miles to aid a people not his own, battled an army of Uruk-hai, was now sorely wounded-perhaps dying-and he was apologizing for his inconvenience? This would never do. A soft nudge from her sense of justice gave her enough confidence to refute the elf's words.
"Nay, my lord. You are hardly a burden," Erhia assured him, placing her hand on his. "I am as honoured as any of us to have you here. You fought to rescue us from shadow; none can be held accountable for that."
A weak grin. "You merit your people with your words... It is good I have one so kind and fair beside me," he remarked, a slight twinkle in his eye telling of his mirth as she blushed.
Erhia used a wayward strand of hair in her face as an excuse to look away from the dark-haired elf's penetrating gaze and cleared her throat. "You really must not be able to see very well," she said dryly.
The Noldor let out a quiet laugh, but paused when the pounding in his ears returned. He laid his head back and attempted to steady the shaky rattle deep in his lungs. His head felt as if it would split, and his eyes burned fiercely with the heat emanating from his body. If he had been more lucid, he would have recognized the slow burn of poison behind it.
The woman stayed with her hand cooling his for a long moment before suddenly realizing something.
"Um, I am sorry, but... I really don't know your name," she mumbled, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.
He smiled softly, swallowing again to rid his mouth of a bitter taste that was building there. "Forgive me. My name is Elrohir, son of Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell," he said, introducing himself formally.
"It is good to make your acquaintance," she nodded back.
"Nn..." His grin vanished and his fingers dug into the earth beneath him. A gravelly tone that sounded like a reaction to pain made its way up out of his throat, and he cried out again, unable to silence himself.
Erhia laid her hands on his shoulders to steady him, her eyes wide with fear.
"My Lord Elrohir?!"
He couldn't answer except to clutch at her hands, his body quivering under the strain. She held them back, giving him the comfort of at least feeling another's presence. The elf's eyes were watering so badly that he cried, tears streaming, pelting down his cheeks, and he tossed his head back and forth in weak thrashing. His legs moved only slightly, his energy all but spent.
Finally he looked up into her eyes, or so Erhia thought.
"El-Elladan- what-what is happening to us...?" he moaned, tears still running down his face, unnoticed.
Us? Erhia's heart clenched. He was hallucinating. What can I do?
"Nella, help!" she yelled.
A few of the other Rohirrim had already risen to aid the helpless woman as she knelt by the Firstborn's side, and two of the women, wives already bereft of their husbands and children, came to stand at her back. Seeing them approaching, Erhia asked the first woman to find their lady, and she nodded, running off to the keep. Erhia was grateful for the women's help with restraint, but nothing could be done. They could only watch and wait as the dark-haired elf rocked, shouted, and spoke wildly to himself, caught in fever's throes.
"Elladan- Elladan! I can't- What are they- what are they doing to you?! Elladan?!"
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"El, help me- They found- Elrohir, I can't run!"
The elf's pleas were useless; he knew it before he uttered them.
Elladan stared from the back wall with a fear that otherwise would never have shown in his gaze, had it not been for the disorienting weakness and unbelievable agony that was swallowing him whole. The ugly creatures advancing on him were made even more hideous by the swimming of his vision (or were they?) and the handless one was slowly striding forward to reach him, his height almost two full heads above his own.
A sudden cave-in had blocked off his escape into the deeper reaches of the tunnel and the extremely loud, echoing crack of the stone had alerted the returning Uruks. They had swiftly broken into the rock wall with clubs and axes, sneers and slimy grins peering in at him through the opening, and now their leader was approaching him, smiling with chipped, cracked, rotten teeth.
The expression borne by his scarred features chillingly bespoke what he was about to do.
A tear-streaked, grimy, frightened but beautiful face broke through Elladan's memory, her golden hair swirling around her as he carried her away from the darkness of the caves. His father's anguished features, a picture in his mind's eye of a sleek ship sailing away into the sun making his heart ache, the uncomprehending horror in his mother's eyes when he had first touched her after her captivity.
"N... Naneth," the twin murmured.
He remembered the grief painted plainly across his father's face and the years of mourning that had accompanied their mother's departure to the havens. If they died now from such as these, what would become of him?
Anger, deep and searing, flared to life in his breast. He glared bleakly at the dark beings as they snarled at him with menace in their eyes, brandishing their weapons and watching gleefully as their commander drew close.
"No..." he muttered, his voice rising. "No. You... won't take me... I won't - LET YOU TAKE ME!"
With a growl that escalated into a scream he rose and tackled the huge beast, knocking him to the ground with sheer force and drawing his sword atop the creature's body. He swung his blade downward in a short, swift arc for the Uruk's neck-
-only to be caught by a dirty, gnarled hand.
The Uruk-hai grinned his pleasure at having his victim trapped and helpless as Elladan glared down at him with all the fury of hell, unable to move due to the creature's handless arm wrapped around his waist. The thing smirked nastily and squeezed him against the metal armour over his broad chest, making the blade still stuck in his gut push painfully deeper, and he smirked with narrowed yellow eyes at his prey's anguished shrieking.
The dark being laughed throatily as the elf struggled violently to be released, screaming at the top of his lungs, pushing against him with his hands. Finally, the Noldor collapsed against him amid the gleeful growls and howls of the other Uruk-hai, his body radiating with searing pain. But the lead Uruk wasn't satisfied yet.
Grabbing the collar of his tunic, he threw Elladan across the room to roughly hit the floor and slide, a ringing clatter resounding as the Noldor's newly-freed sword tumbled away into the darkness. Elladan couldn't move except to breathe, and even that proved to be a great challenge. He coughed up blood onto his tunic as he lay on his back, fully and horribly prone.
"I think you owes me a new 'and, elf," the Uruk spat. "But seein' as you're feelin' so rebellious, I think we need a bigger lesson." With a feral smile, he reached down and pulled the helpless being up by his left arm, hauling him to his feet and suspending him in the air.
Elladan moaned, feeling ill as he felt the rusted metal in his stomach grinding against bone once more. He opened glazed eyes to meet the creature's burning ones, and realized what he was going to do a split second before it began.
The elf could only look on in horror as the grip on his wrist began to tighten. He heard the snap of bone and felt the muscles of his forearm convulsing as his wrist was crushed under the foul creature's hand.
White flashes were overtaking his vision and he no longer knew whether he screamed or lay silent as the monster abruptly dropped him, his head cracking sharply against the ground as he fell. He came to his senses, only to feel the strong hand pick him up again, drop him, and this time place itself on his forearm, pinning it between his foot and the ground.
A soft whimper was all he could manage before the lead Uruk-Hai roared and yanked sharply upward on the arm beneath him.
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"AAAAAAAHHH!"
The cave was shaking with ear-splitting screams. Legolas' eardrums were ringing. If he hadn't known better he would've thought they were bleeding.
He and Aragorn had run into Eowyn on their way back to the cave entrance, and they had quickened their pace down the hall from retrieving an emergency supply of herbs in Legolas' travel pack. It would not be much, he knew, but every little bit helped. They had then been waylaid on the staircase by yet another woman, a Rohirrim widow who was very much out of breath.
"Erhia told me- to retrieve you, my lady," she gasped. "It's the elf- he-"
A heart-stopping shriek that sounded as close as an arm's length shook the passageway.
Elf and ranger did not even stop to look at each other, running at full speed down the stairs and into the passages.
When the pair reached the caves, they saw a group of women pressed in close around Elrohir at the bottom of the hill, fear on their faces as they tried to hold him down. The older twin was bucking and writhing like a headless serpent clinging to the last threads of life, and his limbs shook, his body contorted, crying out in mind-shattering agony.
"Move!" Aragorn skidded on his knees to his brother's pallet and reached for his arms. Legolas came pelting in beside him throwing his full weight on the Noldor's legs. Eowyn grabbed the discarded herbs and began wetting them for use, snatching a handful to place in the wound. But as she reached forward, the elf fought to escape his companions' hands, knocking her away.
"NO! DARO- DARO! STOP!" He was screeching almost incoherently, switching from Sindarin to Westron and back again. "SAES- RELEASE ME!"
"Elrohir! Elrohir!" The ranger's cries went unheeded. Legolas reapplied his grip just in time to keep his friend's leg from flying out and catching Eowyn's head.
"Estel!" he shouted. "Take his legs! Put your weight on them and try to administer the athelas! I will talk to him! Just hurry!" The Dunadan nodded swiftly and leaped to trade places with the Mirkwood prince, who immediately snatched Elrohir's arms and held him almost immobile. Almost.
As he struggled against his tortured friend, Legolas yelled in Sindarin over the row. "Mellon-nin, im Legolas! Tolo dan non galad! Dartho, dartha an nin! U-awartha i galad! My friend, it is Legolas! Come back to the light! Hold on, stay with me! Do not forsake the light!" His screaming did not abate and the twisting body did not still.
The prince turned his head and called to Aragorn. "Something is happening; I can feel a darker presence beneath his own."
"He must have been discovered," he cursed. "Hold him, I will bind the wound."
The dressing which had fallen away revealed the nasty swelling that had grown around the gash, and the bleeding had not slowed. That bothered him greatly.
"Legolas, he has not stopped bleeding. It must be poison after all," he said tersely, not looking up, and he tucked the herbs gently into the wound. His spirit keened for his brother's pain, but now he had to work to save him, not comfort him. The twin probably would not have even registered any comfort given him.
A glaze of cloudy white was covering the bright blue eyes, and suddenly he went as limp as wet autumn leaves, the screaming ceasing into silence. For a moment the abrupt silence made their hearts stop.
"Elrohir?!" Aragorn cried, quickly crawling up to his head. His heart began beating once more as he saw his brother's chest rise and fall, hearing the weakening breaths. Legolas let out a breath, bowing his head tiredly. He looked into the Noldor's glassy, unseeing eyes and saw the pain and great fatigue that lay within. His strength was waning.
"Estel, we are losing him."
"No," the Dunadan denied vehemently. "He can still survive."
"How, Estel?" The elf's tone was not angry, nor was it challenging. It merely spoke of sadness at the truth he beheld. "How can we stop Saruman's minions from killing them?"
"I will go to the tunnels."
Legolas looked up quickly, shock written on his face. "...What? Estel-"
The ranger shook his head, frowning, and Eowyn averted her eyes. It felt as though she should not be witnessing this exchange and it made her shift uncomfortably.
"I will not stand by and watch this any longer. I cannot let them die!"
"Estel, do not be irrational," Legolas warned in Sindarin. "You would never make it in time. The majority of the Uruk-hai are fast approaching; you could not make it past them, let alone stop them from killing Elladan and Elrohir!"
"I will kill every last one of them myself!" he shouted back, eyes burning like blue fire-jewels. Even with the language switch it was obvious from his tone that the Dunadan was murderously angry at the state his foster brother was in. The women who had been hanging back shifted uneasily, not understanding the heated conversation.
"If you leave now, they will die." The blunt truth was spoken without the slightest feeling, the prince's eyes steady as he met Aragorn's gaze. He knew the ranger had seen this, but he felt the man needed to hear it now. "I know you want to save them, my friend, and it is maddening for me as well, but the best we can do now is stay and heal them." His gaze grew dark. "And pray."
The two men faced each other with challenge in their eyes, and for a long while no one dared to speak. Finally, Aragorn's eyes softened, a sigh escaped his parted lips, and he hung his head, long, dark auburn tresses hiding his features.
"I am sorry, my friend." The whispered elvish was filled with a kind of yearning sorrow. "I cannot lose them, I just cannot."
Legolas nodded, understanding, and quickly turned to Elrohir's newest injury. He took the arm gently in his hands, examining it.
"His wrist appears to be broken. If we-"
CRACKKK!
Without warning, the bare arm the prince held seemingly exploded, spraying his face with blood and making him flinch. Eowyn yelped in surprise and shock, Aragorn gasping sharply as tiny shards of bone flew by his face. Elrohir's eyes were screwed up tightly with tears leaking from beneath the lashes, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. The breath had been stolen from his body; venting his agony was no longer possible.
Legolas cried out in shock. "Aragorn!"
"Elrohir-"
The elf had arched his back and come completely off of the pallet, landing after a few moments with a heavy thump. The women watching behind them were holding each other, hands to mouths with tears running down their faces, and one of them with dirty blond hair was standing alone, her expression utterly horrified. Aragorn's mouth was dry, and he felt himself growing ill as he looked upon the bloody mess in front of him that was his sibling.
Elrohir's arm was shattered.
The bone was poking through the skin in two different places, and where it wasn't broken it was badly bruised. White bone protruded from his upper and lower arm and the elbow was nearly bent backwards as though a heavy weight had crushed it. Aragorn knew that this would be very difficult and very painful to set, if possible at all.
Legolas was looking very shaken, his face taut and pale. He looked over at the ranger, uncertainty colouring his gaze. "Estel... Is there any way we can..." he trailed off, not really knowing what he wanted to say. His friend's breathing had become rapid and very shallow, and his face had acquired a greyish cast.
In his head, Estel ran over the mental list of herbs and remedies his father had taught him when a warrior was injured. His were obviously severe compound fractures, but the stress had been oddly placed and had caused chips of the bone to become scattered. The Dunadan ordered Eowyn to prepare a set of bandages and a clean bowl of water, and she complied, albeit a bit nervously. The shock of seeing the wounded being's entire arm contort and practically burst hadn't left her a little unnerved.
Aragorn prepared a thick paste to spread over the wound as a bandage, and, after applying it, set about maneuvering the twisted limb back into its usual shape. His brow was beading with sweat as he began to slowly push the pieces of bone back into place, Legolas keeping it steady with a hand on either side, but it was as far as they got.
Elrohir yelped and his head snapped to the side, a great bruise beginning to form on his forehead. The Mirkwood prince stared down at the elf as he was forced the other way, his eye swelling shut, and as he watched the Noldor's lower lip split in two.
"Aragorn, they're beating him again," he said brusquely in elvish.
"No," the ranger whispered back, unknowingly shaking his head in despair. This couldn't happen, this couldn't- It wasn't right...
"Elladan... Elrohir, no," he begged them, taking his older brother's hands in his own. "Please, my brothers, you cannot leave me here. Not now." His voice cracked slightly and his tone softened. "I wasn't supposed to watch you die. It was you who were supposed to watch me, the mortal whose time had come, go forth to tread Halls of Mandos. That, or it was I who would watch you sail to the evergreen, undying Havens of the West..."
He choked on a sob, placing his sibling's hands against his forehead. His anguished plea was a mere breath.
"Valar, please..."
The twin's body shook violently with barely suppressed sobbing, possessed by the pain that was rocking him to the core. Aragorn was bent over him, unable to stop his weeping any longer. Legolas felt his heart break as they held each other, the man pulling Elrohir up into an embrace made iron strong by desperation.
As he watched, an idea sprang to his mind.
That would work... I could-
The initial joy at realizing what he could do was squashed by realization of the cost. Thinking of what he'd be doing left his insides knotted and his entire body shivering in fear. But the sons of Elrond were the closest beings to him in all Arda, and Estel: the king, the ranger, the young boy he had watched laugh and play and grow with the twins, the human companion who had practically been welded to his soul, would be completely and totally broken by this grief.
"Ada... Father, please," Elrohir gasped as the monsters in his vision reached for him again.
Elladan began screaming anew, his voice straining hoarsely as the Uruk-hai attacked, swarming around him. Their thoughts touched one last time before awareness was stolen from them, joining their minds and voices in an agonized cry for help and directing it at the only one who would be able to save them now.
"ADAAA!"
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Okay, yes. I am evil.
Not enough room for BIG review responses, but I'll give it a shot. Sorry this was so late, but I am still doing school and I wanted to make this as long as possible. I stopped it here for a good reason. There is a point I'm trying to get to, so...
Next, Chapter Five: Legolas makes an important, probably fatal decision, and Elrond gets a biiiiiiiiig migraine. Will they survive? WILL THEY ALL DIE?! Well... that depends on whether or not our dear authoress is PMSing or not at the last few chappies. AND... On how many reviews this gets...
There's still the actual battle at Helm's Deep to consider, after all...
'Ta! Review and get more! Don't... and this happens:
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