Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, Tolkien does, I only borrow and play with them. I just own the plot.
A.N: I have not read the books in a very long time so I'm basing this off the movie version and the characters may have different personalities.
Two dark figures took form, rising out of the swirling mist. The fierce sharp eyes of the riders scan the dead forest as their mounts trod on. At first glance one might say the figures are traveling huntsmen. But if a closer look is granted one would realize that these mysterious creatures are not of man but of elves. The mounts bare no tack, for the first born require only the ancient musical language of their people to command the beasts. Both riders sit proudly and bare the crest of their house upon their cloaks, which are drawn up over their head. One is dressed in a silver tunic with adorned with elvish script and swirls, he wears dark blue leggings tucked into soft leather boots. He carries a long sword at his hip with a bow and quiver slung across his back. His companion wears a similar outfit with the same silver tunic but black leggings. He too, carries a sword at his hip and a bow and quivers over his back, but at a closer inspection one would see daggers in his belt and strapped to his boots. Both carried a set of long knives. One would find themselves amazed, if one took the time to study such an ancient race, for they could be nothing but brothers, twins in fact as they perfectly mirrored each other and such an occurrence was a rare find in the elves. Both bore the long dark raven hair of their father, they both had the same hard steely eyes that no one could doubt at having the ability to pierce your very soul. Both have a strong jaw, pointed ears, noble noses leading down to soft lips. As is the case with elves, their strength is not apparent in the make of their bodies, they are slender and lithe but they can match the strength of four grown men. All in all they were both handsome looking ellons. The first rider, the one who bore no daggers slowed his horse and turned to his brother.
"Elladan, do you here that?" he asked in nothing but a whisper so faint only the superior hearing of the elves could hear it. His brother pulled up alongside of him while taking his hood off and closing his eyes in concentration. His eyes flew open in shock and disbelief, the sound of ringing metal and screams flooding his ears.
"Elrohir! They are under attack!" yelled Elladan for he was already galloping towards the battle with Elrohir right behind him.
"How did they find the settlement," Elrohir asked not expecting an answer." Where are the scouts, they should have been able to hold the orcs back! Why didn't Arathorn send for help?" he rapidly fired off the questions seeking to make sense of what was happening and trying to calm the fear for his friend that was swelling in his stomach and flooding his chest.
"I don't know," shouted an annoyed Elladan, "I am not there so I cannot know what is going on! If you had not insisted that we stop for the night we would already be there to help fight. Valar! We could have prevented this attack if you would have just listened to me instead of focusing on your Valar forsaken appearance! If anyone dies, their death will be on your hands!" Elladan shouted accusingly at his brother. He knew he would feel regretful and guilty and shameful later but was angry now, just like he always gets when he feels threatened or scared.
Elrohir looked away from his brother, his eyes full of hurt. He knew that Elladan didn't mean what he said because he knew that his brother was just as scared as he was. The twins' bond told him so, he could feel what his brother felt, and if Elladan would just open up his mind Elrohir might be able to calm him down through their mind speak, which only the twins could hear. Both forgot about it soon though and drew their swords as the sounds of the fight increased as they got closer.
"Get ready," warned Elladan just before they broke through the tree line. But both brothers were horrified as they took in the scene before them. The small ranger settlement that they themselves helped build many years ago was set aflame. Houses were burning with screaming families trapped inside or they were already burnt to the ground. The only road, which went through the middle of the settlement, was filled with chaos; women and children running everywhere trying to run away from their flaming deaths while the men took up arms against the scores of invading orcs. But they were losing the fight; already dozens of bodies surrounded by pools of blood littered the ground. Some were shot with arrows while others had deep gapping sword slashes, some were even granted the short death of decapitation. The brothers took all of this in, in mere seconds and leaped off their steeds and into the fray. With skills perfected through thousands of years of training and experience they quickly slashed their way through the mass of orcs towards the center where the rangers had formed a protective circle in the last hopes of keeping their leader, Arathorn and his wife, Gilraen alive.
"Can you see Arathorn or Gilraen?" Elrohir asked as he ducked a swing that would have taken his head and stabbed the offending orc through the stomach watching with satisfaction as the foul creatures' organs slide out of its stomach onto the ground and heard its dying scream as it slide off the end of his sword never to harm another living being again.
"Yes," called Elladan in relief, "They are in the center of the circle, the Rangers are protecting them." And they were, the rangers had formed a protective barrier between the orcs and Arathorn and Gilraen. The rangers tired but would never give up, continued to fight and looked as if they may finally be gaining the upper hand in the battle, their spirits seeming to rise at the sight of the twins. To them the twins were known as the Duo of Death, for they were known far and wide for their orc hunts and their skills. The rangers stated to push the murdering beasts back when the air was shattered by a blood curing scream. All heads, both of the evil foul smelling creatures and of the rangers and those who fought with them, looked toward the center of the fight, some with horror and some with glee. As there stood Arathorn, the leader of the Rangers and the twins beloved friend, with a thick black arrow sticking out of his right eye. Everything seemed to have happened in slow motion for the brothers as they saw their friend stumble and drop his sword, Gilraen, who must have been the one to scream, tried to catch him as he fell to the earth, a look of shock and confusion on his face. As Gilraen lowered her husband to the ground she spun and stabbed the orc nearest her, she started frantically slashing with one arm as she carried a parcel of something in the other. As she looked back over her shoulder at her now dead husband she saw an orc raising his axe getting ready to separate her love's head from his shoulders, no doubt to then stick it on his spear to show off to the others of his kind later and brag about his kill. As she turned to defend her late husband's body, a dagger was suddenly embedded in the side of its neck; black blood squirting out around the knife, splashing across her face, throat and dress, and she watched in surprise as it fell over dead the next second. She nodded her thanks to Elladan when she noticed the horrified look on his face, he tried to shout out to her but he was too late. She felt a blazing white hot pain start at her right should and felt it's seemingly slow decent across her back down to her left hip. Her vision blacked in and out as she stumbled forward clutching the bundle to her breast as she fell over the top of her dead love's body. The orc went to finish her off with a death blow when it was quickly struck down by two white shafted arrows. Gilraen turned to see Elrohir lower his bow and run to her side. The orcs, seeing their mission was complete, backed off and fled into the mountains. Elladan and Elrohir both reached Gilraen at the same time and saw the horrific damage done to her. Their father was the greatest healer in all of Middle Earth and he naturally passed down his skills to his sons, so as they locked grief filled eyes with each other, they both knew that nothing could be done for her. Elrohir gently turned her over and saw that she was still conscious but barely.
"Elrohir, Elladan yo…you must prot…ect h…him," she gasped in ragged breaths.
"Oh Gilraen," Elrohir cried, "Arathorn has already passed, rest child and you will be rejoined with him." He softly stroked her hair back away from her face.
"No, I already know he is dead." She panted, tear swimming in her eyes. "I am not talking about Arathorn; I am talking about our son, Aragorn." She whispered. Elladan carefully took the bundle she was trying to hand him and peeled back the blanket. Two small silver grey eyes emerged out of a soft curly mass of raven colored locks.
"He is only two winters old; he is our only son, Arathorn's son. You must protect him! Please take him to Imladris." She quietly begged as the life stated to leave her eyes.
"Do not worry, child. He will come and live with us in Imladris with the elves. He will be well protected and loved. Now rest child, there are no more burdens for you here. Go rest, and be with your husband forever more." Elladan softly whispered as he reassuringly squeezed her shoulder while Elrohir gentle rocked and caressed the side of her face and closed her eyes once she was gone from them. They both started when the babe in Elladan's arms started to wail. Blood was slowly seeping across the blanket Aragorn was wrapped in and Elladan frantically ripped the material off of him searching for the wound. The brothers sighed in relief when they saw the long cut going down the toddlers' right shoulder to his elbow on the outside of his arm. It was long and would require stitches but it was shallow and for that they were thankful.
"What should we do now?" Elrohir tiredly asked, looking around the rangers were already piling up the orc bodies to burn and others were digging graves for their fallen comrades. Of the seven hundred people who used to live here he could only see maybe not even about two hundred left, and of those over half were injured and all were exhausted and had just lost someone the loved.
"We should ride back home to Imladris and bring back help." Replied Elladan, as he held up his hand to stop Elrohir's protest. "I know it is a two day ride to get back home and I don't want to leave them here defenseless either, but if we do not get reinforcements everyone here will die. Look at me Elrohir! They need medicine for the wounded and more bodies to protect them all. Gilraen wanted us to take her son back to Imladris and I plan to take him there as quickly as possible."
Elrohir stood watching the adans work, "I am staying with them. I will lead them back to Imladris and we will meet you with the reinforcements on the way." He informed Elladan, and started to make his way over to one of the wounded rangers.
"Where do you think you're going?" Elladan asked incredulously. "Do you see yourself brother? You are just as bad off as anyone else around here, even me."
Confused Elrohir looked down at himself for the first time since the fight. His once beautiful but practical ensemble was now torn and soil in orc, adan, and his own blood. He had a nice sized cut in his left thigh, another one dressing his left hip; both would require stitches along with several scraps covering the rest of his body. Elladan, he noticed, did not look any better. After a long tense pause, filled with the sounds of the crying child and working men, he nodded his surrender and limped back towards his brother to help him to his feet.
"Here brother, let me take the child, and while you see to our horses I will take Aragorn to the healers and see if they are able to stitch them up. I will also inform them of our plans and what they should do while we are gone." Elrohir gently eased the boy out of Elladan's stiff arms and walked to the far side of the settlement to the healers. Sighing, Elladan watched him leave and turned to look one last time at the bodies of their friends. 'I swear to you Arathorn, Gilraen, I will watch over your son, I will never allow any harm to befall him. In this I will not fail you, my friends.'
Please Read and Review so I know if I should continue or not : )