Thanks to never123 for following this story and to everyone else still reading ( if indeed anyone is! ).
ILovevolleyball - thanks again for your lovely review. I'm glad you are still enjoying my ramblings. You got the contrast I was hoping for with the passages on hatred and revenge too. Phew! I was hoping it would come out that way. :) Hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Here goes with the next chapter. Feedback is always welcome.
Chapter 12
A short hiss of pain escapes through Elladans clenched teeth as he feels the sharp bite of steel against his left forearm but there is no time to check the wound and he pushes it to the back of his mind as his body moves automatically, right arm raising his legendary sword to parry the blow aimed towards his head, then swinging low to swipe the heavy blade across the torso of the orc before him, unfazed by the liquid like flow of innards released from the corrupt body as it falls, clawed hands clutching its torn belly in a vain attempt to force the unruly guts back from whence they have spilled. There is no time to think before the next foes are before him and the deadly dance continues with two more of the foul creatures being dispatched mercilessly, both decapitated in a move faster than the eye can see, a flick from left to right and back again, sword glinting as it rushes towards its fatal goals.
The three brothers fight back to back, each protecting the other, in a formidable triangle of fluid choreography, a most macabre beauty to behold as they slash, parry and twirl in concert. A lethal harmony of death, honed over the centuries by the twins need for revenge, to bring death to pay for those harms long past but never forgotten. Their mirrored synchronicity, enhanced by time and their unique mental link, has forged a style of combat very much their own, a style unparalleled amongst the eldar and feared by all those in thrall to the darkness. It has been modified over the last few years to include their adopted brother. Taught the intricacies of their battle dance from an early age and eager to learn he has been an adept pupil, adapting their moves to suit his human limits then pushing to extend those limits, his mastery of the sword has excelled all expectations. Combining elven and human forms of combat he strengthens the already seemingly unbeatable team with an air of maturity surpassing his actual years, helping to moderate the rage within his elder siblings as the red mist rises, to ensure that they do not succumb to recklessness in pursuit of death.
Vituperous curses and snarls fill the air as the orcs frenzied attack continues. The clash of steel upon steel rings out through the trees like a clarion call and the screeches of the wounded and dying add to the cacophony of sound yet through it all the three at the centre of the battle fight in chilling silence, the calm eye of the storm that is raging around them. Faces grim and set they deal out death without compunction, unheeding to all except the melee in which they are embroiled, the next strike, the next thrust until suddenly there is no enemy left before them alive and they stand, almost in disbelief, adrenaline still surging through their veins, slowly realising that it is all over.
The mist clears from their minds and the twins collapse into each others arms, needing to feel the beating of hearts that tell the tale of another fight survived, another battle won with life intact. Estel stands with one hand on each of his brothers shoulders sharing their relief and silent, heartfelt prayers are sent to the valar with thanks for life sustained before they let go of one another, sharing a knowing smile as they wait for the pain that will surely come begging for notice from injuries masked in the fury of combat but allowed to surface as their heated blood cools.
The band of orcs had come from nowhere. Senses fixed upon the search for the lost prince they had missed the signs of encroaching danger until it was upon them and the first orcs thrown dagger embedded itself in the trunk of a tree, a hairs breath away from Estels nose. Pandemonium had then erupted and pure instinct kicked in as the foul creatures had pressed them from all sides, effectively corralling them, without realising that this would make the trio more desperate and therefore more dangerous and the scene played out to its inevitable conclusion.
Looking around Estel can count at least twenty of the fell creatures laying strewn as they have fallen, unwholesome ichor leaking from their bodies to settle on the ground, staining the once vibrant green grass black. A bitter tang lies on the air which makes the bile rise in his throat and he swallows convulsively to keep from heaving, a reaction to the violence that he has never been able to conquer.
His body begins to complain bitterly about the recent clash as various small gashes and nicks clamour for his attention yet he pays them no heed, turning instead to assess his brothers needs. One glance is enough to speed his weary feet back over to where they stand, Elladan holding Elrohirs left arm and watching, as if transfixed, a red stream trickle and drip its way down to the ground waiting beneath their feet.
"'Roh! Let me see" Estel gently takes the arm to scan the wound noticing the white of bone visible between the jagged, red edges of the deep cut.
"My pack, 'Dan! Bring me my pack" he nudges his older brother urgently to bring him back to his senses and watches as Elladan stumbles over to where their belongings had been abandoned when the fighting began. Then, as the warriors knees begin to buckle he catches him under the arms and lowers him to the ground.
"Saes, peace, 'Roh, just rest for a while and I will treat this" softly murmuring these words he places one hand firmly over the incision to stem the bleeding causing the injured elf to briefly cry out in pain. " I will need to stitch this together gwador nin, my brother, the cut is too deep to heal on its own."
He begins to rummage, one handedly, in the pack that the older elf has dropped in front of him, pulling out bandages, pads, needles, thread and herbs. He smiles as a pan of water materializes beside him and looks up to see the pale face of his oldest brother, eyes bright with concern and pain, hating the fact that his twin suffers, wishing it had been indeed his flesh that the blade had slashed when he felt its fiery kiss. It has always been this way, the twins bond being so strong that each feels what the other experiences, physically and mentally, their blessing and also their curse.
"Chew on this bark, it will help ease the pain."
Estel pops the small woody lump into his brothers mouth as he opens it to protest and raising, his eyebrow in an expression learned from the lord of Imladris that brooks no refusal he drops a small twisted bag of herbs into the pan of water to steep.
After washing the wound thoroughly with the herb instilled water, the young man closes the wounds raw edges with neat stitches, covers them with a poultice of healing herbs to encourage healing and wraps all in a pristine bandage.
" It does not look poisoned," he glances into the warriors pain filled eyes " and the edges are fairly even, hopefully it should heal well." He smiles and starts to rise to his feet to dispose of the used water.
" Hannon Le, thank you, Estel" Elrohir reaches out to grasp his hand " it does feel somewhat better now."
He struggles to a sitting position and turns his head to watch his twin trying to light a fire feeling the knot of tension and anger within Elladans chest that always accompanies one of his injuries, wishing he could take it away yet knowing if their roles were reversed he would be feeling the same.
"You never were as good at setting a fire as me brother," the lighthearted words are designed to distract and he smiles inwardly as his sibling takes the bait.
" Hah! Who was the one that managed to get a fire going in the rain a few months ago when we were hunting those wargs?" Elladans eyes flash with the fire he is trying to generate in the sticks before him. "As I recall it, you had been trying for hours before eventually giving in and I managed it in a few minutes."
The twins lock understanding gazes before Elladan smiles and returns to his task, eventually calling forth a small flame which he feeds carefully until he has a small fire merrily burning upon which to warm water for the blend of tea his father always uses to promote healing and which they carry habitually on any trip away from home.
" What do we do now 'Dan?" the youngest elfs whispered voice contains more than the pain from his wound, "any traces of Legolas will have been wiped out by that foul hoard."
" I know brother," The elder twin replies sadly " I don't know what we can do now, yet we can't give up, we must keep searching no matter how long it takes."
They both turn to stare into the flames as if trying to scry out the whereabouts of their absent friend and are lost deep in thought when Estel rejoins them.