Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I make no money from this writing.
(Elladan)
I can smell the river on the air, a clean, sharp tang to it. My brother, just ahead of me, turns, his finger on his lips. We are as quiet as we have learned to be but I have stepped on something, and a dry crackle makes us both frown. Now, above all now, we must not be seen.
We have planned with what little knowledge we could gather. The dogs tracked all night, their tongues out, their long legs carrying them across the land and back and we followed, Father hard on the heels of the dogs. Our torches flared light on the tree trunks, throwing shadows all round us.
At daybreak, Father paused, calling the dogs to him. A message waited for us, just an arrow in stones, though we needed no guidance. Elrohir kneeled and ran his hand over the stones, as if they held a message he could feel. Father told us what he would do and we nodded. We did not even say Estel's name, for he is well until we put into words that we might not be able to bring him home this time.
Now I can no longer see Father but I know Elrohir can. My brother stands on the lowest branch of the tree, hand to his brow, shading his eyes, while I wait below. Then, in whispers, Elrohir tells me: Father walks forward; there is a meeting; Father is demanding but the man he speaks to walks away and Father stands, watching him go. The dogs pull at their leash but Father holds them back. Three men with bows pulled, arrows nocked, stand not twenty yards away from him.
Elrohir is searching for any sight of Estel but he shakes his head when I touch his foot, reminding him that I need information. My brother climbs higher and I follow him, up on the smooth branches of the tree. We scan the countryside, see three more men crouched round a fire, another four on guard. They will not look for us. Two Rangers, wearing our coats, stand in for us with Father. It is a simple ruse but it seems to have worked.
From the top of the tree, we can see the hills ascending into the sky and the far mountains, heads in the clouds.
"Where is he?" my brother whispers, desperation in his face. He moves further out along the branch, which dips alarmingly and I reach up to steady him. He is looking out across the water meadows. Suddenly he stiffens.
"There!" he says. "There! Elladan!" He leans and points and I see, dark on the shining water, a boat, and a small figure hunched in it.
He faces us. I wish for some means of showing him we are here but we cannot break cover. Elrohir has other ideas. He snaps a small dead branch from the tree and throws it at three crows that are observing us suspiciously. They complain and flap away, awkward and loud in their haste to escape and Estel looks up, drawn as ever to observe the natural world. Elrohir waves, desperately close now to falling from the tree and Estel responds, a small movement of his hands, so that we see he is chained to the boat.
We climb down and hasten away, Elrohir leading again, until we can slip down the riverbank and shelter there, hidden from the land. The boat is around two bends in the river and Father is far away but we are free and we must make our own plan to rescue Estel.
"One of us must cross the river," I say. "We could swim out to him and cut him free."
"He will not be able to swim in this flood, Brother," Elrohir replies. "And how will we reach him unseen? They will be watching for that."
He is right but for a while I cannot think of anything else to do. They are too many to take by surprise and Father may still be there, watched and guarded.
"What do they want?" Elrohir asks. "Why have they taken Estel?"
"Do you not know them? We met them earlier – by the waterfall, remember? At the least, they will know Estel is under Father's protection. I would guess they are hoping for riches for his release. Father will have to send to Imladris and I do not know how he will do that," I say, trying to puzzle out what is happening.
"He will send one of us – one of our imposters, at least. Will he not? That is all he can, for surely he knows where Estel is by now. Our brother cannot live long out there – he has no food, no water that I could see. It is too cold for him to live!" Elrohir clasps the hilt of his sword as if preparing for immediate battle.
The water laps at our feet. Cold air breathes from it. Elrohir is right. This folly will end in Estel's death before help can be brought. We must find another way.
I look around for some inspiration. "We must remove Estel from this place. Father and the Rangers cannot be our concern. My brother is going to die if we leave him there."
Then it comes to me, half a thought, a moment in which I grab Elrohir's arm. "We will float down to him. You will make pretence of loosing the boat and I will take Estel into the water. But we will be hidden. What more natural in this river in spate than a tree trunk, or a mass of brush, torn from the bank?" And as I speak, I am looking for what may be washed up against the shore, or in the shallows.
Elrohir pauses, then nods. "Yes. It may be that we can do this, together. I can see no other way."
We work quickly, now that we have found a way forward. We gather many branches, some large, some with twigs and leaves still clinging to them, and we bind them together as best we may. Elrohir hides his bow and quiver among the brush; I shall keep my quiver slung over my back, and my bow in my hand. We have knives but we must leave our swords and hope to return for them, for they will weigh too heavy. We shall not be fighting in close quarters if we are successful.
We slip into the water, hiding in the middle of our craft, keeping our heads above water as long as we can, then dipping under as we round the last bend. There, in our path, is our brother. In the last second I see him look suspiciously at this driftwood raft of ours.
The moment raft and boat touch, I swim to the far side of the boat and then up, hauling myself from the water, reaching for Estel.
"I am chained!" he says, and I pull on the staple to which his chain is attached. My brother finds another chain attaching boat to shore but his job is to distract, and he is soon firing arrows up onto the bank. There are shouts and cries, then there are arrows slicing the air around us. I pull with all my strength and it is the wood that gives, not the metal, as it splinters around the ill-driven staple. With a final heave, I free Estel, grab him and topple us both into the water.
We go under and Estel is slipping from my grasp, heavy with water and clumsy with shock. But I reach for the branches as they slide along the boat and I manage to hold them. Estel is limp now, no longer fighting his surprise and I wait and wait until I have to breathe. I hope we are far enough away and surface, pulling Estel with me and then helping him to grasp onto the largest branch. He hauls himself out of the water and I know at least he will not be swept downriver.
Perhaps it is as well that we have rehearsed this once, I think ruefully.
He coughs up water, then pushes his hair away from his face so that he can look at me.
"Elladan!" he says. "Are we safe now?"
I paddle on, trying to push us to the opposite bank, where at least I may keep Estel safer and in hiding. I search for some sign of Elrohir but I can see nothing from so low in the water. Sounds carry across the water and Estel begins to look around him.
"Papa!" he says.
"Can you see him, Estel?" I ask, my feet beginning to touch firm ground.
"No. Where is he? Where is Elrohir?"
"Keep down, child," I say. "We are still not far enough away!" But there are no more arrows, and when I finally manage to drag Estel up the bank and into the trees, I am certain we have not been seen, or that the enemy has been defeated and we are no longer in danger.
Estel, frozen, still coughing up water, clings to me. I have no cloak to wrap him in, and no means of making fire or desire to reveal our whereabouts just yet, so I can only try to keep him warm.
"That was quite an adventure, Estel," I say, trying to soothe him. "You seem to get into trouble every time you come near water."
I can feel him nod but I am becoming concerned for he is drowsy, no longer shivering, and I must do more to warm him. If I had only gone to the other bank, I could have worked back to where we left our cloaks and blankets. Perhaps I made the wrong choice.
"I cannot make a fire yet," I say. "We must wait for a signal from Father. I am sure he will come to find us soon."
He nods again and I chafe his hands and try to keep him awake, telling him how brave he has been, how warm he will be soon, but I can find nothing to stop him dozing. Then I remember his puppy.
"Your pup is well," I say. "He is safely back with his mother."
"Did she lick him? He likes her licking him, I think. He is called Hú."
"You have called him Hú?" I ask, sitting him more upright, now that I have his attention. The sun comes out and the world fills with colour, in the browns and greens of the reeds, and the fresh new leaves shivering in the aspens. It seems to release him from the torpor into which he had fallen.
"He will be Húan when he grows up."
Of course he will, Estel, I think. Húan. Great hound. Estel's protector, he will be. For even now, as a puppy all unknowing, he is giving Estel new heart. My brother moves and looks about him, then suddenly all his troubles overwhelm him and he buries his face in my shoulder. I hold him tight and wish I had gone to the other shore.