And on we go down a dark paved road...

Thank you Ruiniel, for inspiring me to write another chapter!

And lovely readers, please leave me a review! I would love to hear what you like or dislike.

Chapter 21 - Rin's euphoria over her new found freedom, lasted…

Rin's euphoria over her new found freedom lasted two days. The more kilometres Bethril created between her and her beloved captain, the more her thoughts became dark and depressed. Ideas became invasive, memories repeated themselves, the future seemed pale and uncertain. Now matter how hard she tried to keep her thoughts positive, they reverted back into old beaten down paths, grinding them down even further.

The wind in her face made her remember cycling through the woods of Japan at night. The loneliness of her life in Japan crept up on her. Nao emerged in her mind, her beautiful face contorted in pain. The cadence of Bethril seemed to evoke her again and again. Tessarion's goodby made her feel sadness as if it would drown her. And then she thought of the twins and their harsh breakup, and it hurt all over again.

She shook her head to clear her mind. The pull of these thoughts was like a dark force. But she needed to fight that darkness. Rivendell was not for her without the twins at its core. She did not have the right mind to fit as a warrior in the Guard. She was reforging her purpose here in this world, she would find Aragorn and bring him to safety, or at least find out if he was born yet. Alien and invasive as they might be, these bonds, she could live with the pain of parting perfectly fine! And with a smile she urged Bethril even faster through the darkness.

On the third day when the darkness had already fallen, she felt something strange inside her happening. As if a tout pulled string suddenly snapped. It was sudden and felt strange. A feeling that she only noticed now it fell away, leaving a strange emptiness inside of her, that caused her heart to thump loudly. She stopped Bethril abruptly, panting in the night.

This world made her feel alien things. She had never experienced anything like this in her life. The intensity of it made her gasp. She did not believe in otherworldly powers, magic or souls. But here in Middle Earth, those beliefs seemed laughable. The very air she breathed seemed to be altering her subtly, changing her thoughts and her beliefs. Was this real? But she could not deny it, yes this was real. No matter how alien it seemed, there was a psychic or emotional connection possible with elves. And it manifested itself into something physical. She marvelled at it, at the possibility and beauty of it. But now, she cursed the confusing effects as well.

On instinct she turned her horse towards the direction she had come, staring into the growing darkness, her eyes desperately trying to hold onto something in the emptiness. And then she realised it was Tessarion. Somehow she had made a connection with him and now that connection was gone. She gasped.

Why was it gone? Throwing overboard her scepticism on all things preternatural, she focussed with all her might on him. She sent out her thoughts and feelings towards him, into the pitch black darkness. There! She felt him suddenly again, a tiny flicker in the darkness, the string tightening again slightly. He was so far away from her, but his light was like a small beacon.

She gripped Bethril's manes with her fists, startling the horse, her body bending forward, until she lay flush with Bethril's neck. The warmth of the animal eased the strangeness in her chest somewhat. Knowing what she felt, did not explain why she felt it. What is going on? Is Tessarion in trouble? Or is this the pain of two fëa's parting? Did they feel this when they left me?

The flickering continued. She sat up straight, staring into the darkness once more. Forcing her eyes to see something, anything, reaching out with her thoughts. And then, as suddenly as it emerged, the feeling just left her altogether, hollow and empty.

She sat there for a long time, staring into the darkness in disbelief, until Bethril grew restless. Then panic gripped her by the throat. Tessarion. He was no longer there, his fëa was gone! The panic would not ease, she knew deep within her heart what this meant, although her mind could not accept it yet.

Another thought hit her. What could kill a mighty warrior like Tessarion? He had survived centuries of warfare and skirmishes. What had happened that he of all elves had fallen? It was no doubt an enemy force unlike anything they knew!

Death was a constant companion in her life, comforting, heart shattering, mind numbing. It felt like yesterday when she had hated death with all her heart, but had to embrace it nevertheless for it was inevitable and ever present. And she welcomed it now reluctantly, getting acquainted with its unforgiving coldness once more. There was no escape. Not for her. Not for the ones she loved. She blinked away the image of her sister falling. At least she could admit it now. Love. And she cried and cursed that she was still capable of such feelings for the pain brought her almost to her knees in agony.

She thought carefully while her anger set in. Tessarion did not deserve to die, not her beloved captain. She knew that the Guard had to stay within the boundaries of Rivendell, but not so their enemies. If they were pursued by the rest of the Guard and crossed the border, they would be free. Unpunished. She thought darkly. She could not bear the thought of injustice once more, where murderers got off without any fitting retribution, being from a judge or an executioner. But she was not bound to the rules of the Guard. She would not rest until Tessarion was avenged.

And after this deliberation, she turned to re-traced her path. The need to see him once more was overwhelming. To touch his body one last time, to trace the flesh that had warmed hers not so long ago. To kiss his cold lips. To honour the magnificent shell that housed his great spirit and give it the honour it deserved.

And when she had said her goodbye, she would track down his enemies and quench her thirst for revenge.

Xxxxxxxx

The silence on the battlefield was deafening. Lord Glorfindel stared around shellshocked. The silence stood in stark contrast to the chaos of dragging dead orcs towards a heap to be burned, caring for wounded warriors or paying respect for the fallen ones. Some animals needed to be finished off to end their suffering and Glorfindel closed his eyes, saying a silent thanks to the Valar that Asfaloth was safe.

Tessarion's hand was in his still. He noticed its stillness even while he was assessing the damage on the guard. A sleeping hand would feel relaxed, warm and heavy, a small part of strength and life actively giving the limb integrity. That feeling that told you, the hand was just relaxed, its owner asleep but alive. Death took that last piece of strength and life, so that the integrity of the hand was gone and it felt like a deadweight in his. There was no doubt. Tessarion was gone from this body.

Slowly and with reluctance Glorfindel gazed down on his fallen friend. An empty shell lay there, between his fallen enemies, his skin white, his scar standing out on his skin, the blood darkening, his hair seemed to have lost its gleam already. His body, that he knew so very intimately through endless training and sparring, broken. The notion that Tessarion was gone from his body, did not ease his mind and he felt lost, sitting there with that lifeless weight in his hand. He knew what lay beyond the borders of this life, he had experienced it himself. Still, to be left behind was a bitter feeling and his fëa longed for his friend and would do so for a long time still to come. But the time to grief was not in the present. He needed to take care of his warriors first.

Slowly he lay his hand back on his chest. He sought Tessarions sword and wrapped his fingers around the hilt to unite him with his weapon. They would take his body home, but lying on the battlefield like this Glorfindel thought to give him some dignity by uniting him with his sword, if only for a little while. He did not want to release his body, but the flesh was turning cold and his warriors needed guidance. He closed his eyes for a moment, murmuring a private goodbye to his friend and then squared his shoulders and stood. They needed to get moving. The dead should be transported back to Imladris as well as the wounded. The remaining warriors were necessary to protect their slow backtrack home for the orcs would return, he was certain of it. Afterwards they would go out for battle once again, the orcs could not be left unhindered in their lands, if they were still within the borders of Imladris. But what to do about Rin?

He turned to find his second-in-command and the twins, only to stand nose to nose with Naertho, Tessarion's second-in-command. His face was contorted in anguish and sorrow, staring down at his captain. His face held streaks of dirt and blood, tears had left clean spots that stood out on his cheeks. He seemed frozen. Glorfindel took his shoulders and shook him softly.

"Naertho, are you alright?"

The elf blinked as if he was watching the sun. Suddenly unnerved that he had been drifting off in his thoughts and grief this thoroughly.

"Are you alright?" Glorfindel pressed.

"No, my Lord, I am not. But I will be." Naertho whispered.

"Good. We need to gather the injured and the dead and return to Imladris. When we have reported to Lord Elrond, we will take the remainder of the guard to scourge these lands and avenge your captain."

Naertho's eyes lit up at the prospect of revenge. Glorfindel pressed on: "Also, we need to retrieve Rin. She holds valuable information and although accomplished with the sword, against this kind of force, she is a vulnerable target. Is she alone?"

The practicality of Glorfindel's words brought Naertho back to reality and he paled at his words, then burst out exasperated, "This is most unfortunate! Alas! Had we known earlier, we would have discouraged her plans. But I fear we would not have persuaded her. She is rash and impatient, as mortals can be. She would have travelled despite the danger."

Elladan and Elrohir, standing nearby, were relieved to hear some news on Rin and could not help but smile hearing this description, despite their worry. Rash and impatient. They added silently, brave, reckless, action and violence driven and heart shatteringly beautiful. Their hearts soared in pride for a moment.

Breaking into their conversation Elladan said: "She is hard to distract from what she wants, Naertho. But she would not have been so foolish as to venture into a threat this large."

Naertho locked eyes with him. Distaste clear in his eyes. "You speak with personal knowledge, son of Elrond. Speak. Was it you that hurt her?"

Elladan stiffened. Elrohir grunted, "That is not your business, Naertho".

"Your silence on the matter betrays your repetitive ways. Let this be a warning for you, sons of Elrond. Rin has earned respect within this Guard for serving this Guard without demanding special treatment despite the fact she is mortal. We noticed her special connection with our Captain which brought us joy, for he has mourned Zeale for too many centuries. As warriors of the Guard we all have pledged to our Captain and it is beyond doubt that we will protect this mortal that he held dear and harm we will not let befall her. Regardless of who threatens her."

His meaning came through and a heavy silence fell between them. Elladan felt devastated by the news that she and Tessarion had had some kind of connection. Had they lost her already? Elladan sighed in defeat. "You need not fear for our behavior. Truly, we are here to help."

Naertho looked surprised, as did Glorfindel. A severe reaction to this news was expected, but the brothers acted differently. It seemed they were changing, if ever so slightly. "Then do what you do best and rampage against a force unheard of and face odds just as unlikely. Retrieve our friend and make sure she is safe." he gritted his teeth in anger. "Or die trying."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows at the venom in his words. Was there a history between them that he had no knowledge of? He put his hand on Naertho's shoulder to calm him. Elladan and Elrohir were not shocked by his last remark. They only nodded, their faces grim, dipping their heads towards him in acknowledgement. It seemed that Naertho had understood the workings of their minds. They spoke the same language.

Glorfindel contemplated the possibilities at feverish speed. The twins going after Rin was a terrible risk to take. What if Elrond's foresight was still in place? How could he face Elrond if his sons were found dead? But he could not leave his warriors to go after her himself. And he knew she was likely to meet her death without assistance, although Elrond had not foreseen anything about her. The Elves around him held their breath in respect for their Captain. Silently awaiting orders or information. The twins however, did not uphold this decorum of respect and Elladan broke Glorfindel's concentration without any scrupules.

"We are losing precious time. We will head out to fetch her and return safely."

Glorfindel looked up irritated. "Or die trying! How do you expect me to explain this to your father?"

"'Tis no different from other times, Glorfindel."

They were right. It was the only way to move forward. But he childishly wished for them to let him make this choice in a well thought-out manner. His nostrils flaring in sync with his temper he tried to reign both in. Elladan and Elrohir were formidable warriors. Despite their reckless behaviour, he knew they would be able to aid Rin against all odds. His responsibility lay with the rest of the warriors for now. He spoke through gritted teeth: "Fine. But you will not ride alone this time."

Elladan looked exasperated. But before he could comment two Elves strode forward. Raithon and Aien stared at Glorfindel and the twins with troubled features. "If she is in danger we will accompany Master Elrond's sons. Rin is our friend. And like Neartho said, we all pledged to our Captain."

Elrohir and Elladan stared at the two Elves suspiciously. The word 'friend' caused feelings of jealousy in their hearts. But Glorfindel felt relieved that volunteers had stepped forward. "Your assistance is much appreciated." and then he levelled an intense stare at the twins. "You know what is at stake. But no unnecessary risks this time or we will pay dearly. Si bado, no círar. **

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

They travelled in silence. They felt hollow and empty, grief clasping their hearts. The past events still did not fully sink in. The grief came in small bursts, accompanied by realisation. Love held many forms for the First Born, but all forms ran deep. It was a grief unimaginable for mortal men. Love that ran so deep it would never wither nor die, its memory always lodged into the very being of its donor. Raithon and Aien were severely shaken, trying to bury their feelings to focus on the tasks at hand.

And the brothers were too caught up in their own dark jealous thoughts over Rin befriending the guard and Tessarion. They feared thinking about his relationship with her. Did they lose her already? Was their endeavour fruitless? What was the meaning of saving her, if her heart was lost to another? Why bother if their doom was upon them already?

They knew why she wished to travel North. What she meant to do in order to find her own path. She would be carefull and stand her ground against enemies. She would be enraged if they tried to overcome her and take her back to Imladris by force for her own safety. Even if Glorfindel would expect this of them, they would not distract her from her purpose. They would find her and keep her safe. Even if it meant accomanying her to the North if she still wished it.

Raithon and Aien rode behind the brothers next to each other. They shared a knowing look of concern. The sons of Elrond were infamous for their explosive temper and recklessness, often attacking head on. Rin would not benefit from four dead Elves. They needed to keep the risks to a minimum, while appearing subservient towards their Lords' sons. If they realised that they steered their endeavour towards a more conflict avoidance path, they would risk being sent back to the Guard. But how should they then proceed? How to avoid a direct collision with a band of orcs and wargs with two headstrong Elflings in charge? Raithon cursed inwardly, for Elflings they were, but unfortunately by birth higher in rank. They needed to gather their wits and steer these Elflings in the right direction, avoiding casualties.

They had passed through the gorges, its warmth and redness glowing still, behind their backs. No enemies had happened upon them, not a sound amiss was heard, but with each step their hearts grew heavy. It had been days since Tessarion and Rin passed through here. They could not speed up through this labyrinth which frustrated them, their energy pent up, ready to explode. They wanted to race towards the north in direct pursuit. But only patience and caution were their friends in this perilous myriad of gorges.

When they finally reached the end of the last gorge and their patience, the twins rushed out in a flurry of action. Their horses shot forwards like bolts of lightning. Blindly they leaped out and towards their goal and Raithon and Aien cursed softly, watching their surroundings first with suspicious eyes. They were sitting ducks if orcs were on top of the steep rock formations. Their backs felt eerily exposed.

But the twins' thunderous escapade was in a way a good test. No arrow followed them, no shouts and no other sounds than that of their steeds was echoing off the walls. So the warriors set after them, with soft words spoken to their horses, and soft curses under their breaths.

They rode until dusk. The cold alerting them to the humidity in the air. Smells rose from their surroundings. The smell of moist sand and dirt, plants, wood, stone even. Nature breathed life, alerting them to the passing of time. Raithon whistled to the others, catching their attention and soon all slowed their pace. "My horse needs to rest. I cannot go further." It was a subtle tactic, projecting the problem on himself instead of telling them what to do.

Elrohir was frowning, but Elladan nodded in agreement. "Aye. Let us rest for a short while. We will ride under the cover of darkness."

Silently they took care of their animals, treating them, unloading them of their burdens. Aien made a small smokeless fire to heat up some water. Its sparks floated happily up to the stars, oblivious of their problems. In silence they sat while Aien made tea. Elrohir followed the Elf's quick and sure hands and accepted the wooden cup with sincere gratitude, suddenly realising he had not rested nor drank or eaten, since the battle. While his fingers enclosed the warm wood, he felt a heavy tiredness seep into his body, as if he was suddenly made of stone and he sighed despite himself. The first sip of tea made him smile in bliss.

Turning his gaze towards his brother he noticed his tiredness as well, the dark circles underneath his eyes, he wondered if he looked the same mess. He probably did.

He gazed at Aien again, who was now sitting on his hinches drinken as well, the damp swirled upwards into the darkness.

"Tell me how Rin became your friend?" The short question came out sounding more suspicious than he meant it. But Aien just blinked and said: "We were often put together as sparring partners, just as Raithon. I think Tessarion thought it would be beneficial for us both to learn more of her weapon, seeing our profession. Or maybe he knew we would get along, which we did. We just connected in a meaningful way. She is quick to laugh and deep of thought."

"... and she is kind. Even though her history is a traumatic one. She has managed herself well through the years it seemed." It was Raithon who spoke.

Elladan nodded, glad with every scrap of information on Rin. "And your findings on her weapon?"

Raithon sighed wistfully. "True craftsmanship. I have not come upon a blade like this before. The layering was perfect, the shape, magnificent. If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was Elven made."

"It holds a noble purpose. It spoke of honour and good deeds. That weapon seems to fit her well, despite her more dark side."

He swirled the tea in his cup slowly, relishing the smell of it wafting upwards, until he smelled something altogether strange yet familiar. The hairs on his neck stood up quick as lightning while his mind tried to make sense of it. He looked up suddenly, alerting the others.

Silent as only elves could become they sat and listened, pushed out their elven senses to hear beyond the boundaries of sound for something….. Off.

Suddenly Aien, still holding a small stick to poke at the fire and a cup of tea in his other hand, whispered: "Warg….".

Raithon had jumped up silent as a cat, his cup falling in the sand with a dull thud, taking out his sword with a soft hiss. Elrohir stood with the same speed. They shared a look and stealthily took off in opposite directions. Elladan and Aien stared at each other with worry in their eyes.

Aien took some wood to put on the fire. "Fire is our friend against them." Elladan nodded in agreement, staring around in the dark with his sword at the ready. While the fire grew larger the smell of warg disappeared. Elladan was unsure if the fire ate it or that the creature had disappeared. Was it a scout only?

A deep silence fell. The moon peeked from behind dark clouds every now and then, shedding light on the leaves of plants around them. No other sound than the cracking of the fire was heard. It felt unnatural. Too silent. Elladan held his breath, staring around in the darkness willing to see. His body tense, wound up tightly like a spring that could explode any minute.

He cast a look at Aien who sat in silence next to the fire, a branch in his hand, eyes closed, feeling his surroundings with his senses.

And then with a shockingly crisp crash a warg jumped through the thicket around them, jumping into the light of the fire with ease. Its claws black with dried blood, the nails boring into the sand. The blood of my kin. Elladan thought, feeling anger rising in his chest.

They stood frozen in shock of a moment. A moment in which the warg stared at them with intelligent eyes. Elladan felt shivers on his back. Wargs were not intelligent. They were brainless animals in need of a master. Why did it feel as if this was something completely different? This was a scout. And he would report back to his masters. He needed to kill it.

And then the creature opened its mouth, a horrid sound emerging from it. To Elladan's and Aien's horror it seemed to speak in a broken voice. And it left just as quick as it jumped next to the fire, leaving the elves shocked and unnerved. The word, if that was what it was, echoing in their minds for a long time.

"Peredhill..." ***

Xxxxxxxxxx

As soon as the others returned, they broke camp. What followed was a hissing argument in the dark, between the brothers and the two warriors. The latter wanting to evade the wargs tracks, the others opted for following them. So much for subtle steering of these two. Raithon sighed.

"It is unwise to search for this group. With all due respect my Lord, but you are underestimating them."

Elladan shook his head in disagreement. "We should find them. We will be safer when there are less of them out there and if we know where they are."

They had argued for several minutes now, and the two warriors felt increasingly worried for their safety. Aien whispered furiously: "We should not linger in danger. Rin needs us!"

Elrohir looked at him sharply. "We can help her by eliminating some of the threats!" His words sounded final.

Raithon sighed in defeat. Aien tried one last time: "Don't underestimate Rin! She is not a female that needs to be rescued! She is a warrior like ourselves, and if we have her company our survival will be more likely, with her additional skills. We are stronger together!"

But Elrohir was not swayed. "If we leave the trail now, we might not find them again and they will happen upon us, when we least expect it."

Aien grabbed the reins of his horse in fury, saying nothing in return, but grinding his teeth. They were stubborn and reckless as always, not receptive to rational reasoning. Why did they believe only in themselves, why did they not trust Rin to be an equal? They had meant every word. She would be a true asset to their small company and would make their survival more likely. They had fought her in training, they had studied her weapon, listened to her stories of her home world. The brothers however overlooked the virtues of working together with her because they were too focussed on themselves. They had been alone and in pain for too many centuries, to see what was obvious to them.

What should they do now? If the brothers kept on pursuing this dangerous path, they might be pulled into danger just like them, leaving Rin to fend for herself. Should they speak up and confront the brothers? Should they just sneak off silently? But while the wheels in their heads were turning, they followed the brothers into the ink black night, tracking the paw prints of the warg. Each step brought them closer on the path of disaster and daner, until there was no escape possible.

It took them hours to track the paw prints back towards its owners and Aien and Raithon became more and more worried. More prints joined the initial ones, until it was clear that the orc band that had battled with their Guard was the one they were following. This was dangerous! But the brothers seemed adamant in their pursuit. They had no other choice but to follow. They were their Lords' sons. They just could not leave them unprotected while chasing after Rin.

Xxxxxxx

After a few hours of careful riding, it became more and more clear that the wargs were joined by many smaller orc bands. They held no doubt that they were chasing after the larger orc force that battled their own Guard yesterday and their fear grew with every horse's pace. Still, the brothers would not relent and kept pushing onwards.

Aien could not believe their nerve! What did they expect? That they could just barge into a small orc army and fight their way through it? How would they even approach them without being heard or seen? What were they thinking!?

But Aien nor Raithon were familiar enough with their companions. Elrond's sons were not that reckless. They knew what they were pursuing and the dangers that lay ahead. If they happened upon the force that battled Tessarion's Guard, a swift flight was necessary. Still it was better to scout and see for themselves, the warg had left them unnerved. If the pursuit brought them to the larger group, they would leave silently without being seen, if a smaller group gathered… well. They were four now. A fight would be inevitable. They needed to take out those wargs. Never had they encountered a talking one. For the enemy to breed these enhanced creatures was disturbing and bad tidings in any case. But more disturbing was the fact that the beast fled after recognizing their heritage. It almost seemed they were being actively hunted? They needed to find the truth of this matter.

Scanning the sand next to their horses, they noticed more tracks joining. It seemed that some small groups met each other to travel further. Stealth was needed here. Elladan nodded at Elrohir and silently they decided to take precautions. They both dismounted from their steeds, Aien and Raithon did not need any encouragement to do the same. Calmly they walked into a small collection of trees and after inspection of the density of the foliage, they left their horses in the green filtered light. Unbound, for they trusted them to stay where their masters had left them. In case of danger they would flee back to Imladris as all their animals were trained to.

On foot, Raithon and Aien felt vulnerable. It was not often they had to stalk their enemy like hunters. The Guard was a strong presence in these lands that they called home, it had no need for stealth. But they knew how to hunt and keep silent and the four elves moved like shadows. They avoided dry leaves and branches, and kept the wind at a good angle, their senses stretched through the landscape, its creatures, to find traces of the evil that they were hunting. But they felt nothing, sensed no threat. Where did they go? What speed did they travel at?

The trees grew sparse, the ground turned sandy, sturdy bushes littered the ground that sloped subtly downwards into a shallow valley. The smell of these bushes was tangy almost and the sand smelled dusty whenever their feet disturbed it. Then a change was felt. Birds fell silent and the tension in the air turned eerie. The weary elves unsheathed their weapons in silence.

Then, like fireworks, a sudden explosion of movement, and a large orc formation emerged from behind the plants, as if propelled by metal springs, surprising them. An ambush! When was the last time an enemy force this large managed to sneak upon them! Their warrior pride stung.

The wave of sound and movement lessened their senses as they found themselves in the thick of a harsh battle. The orcs were many, forcing them to retreat after every blow. It was a sign of both the preponderance of orcs as well as a tactic of the Elves to continually create enough room to fight with their swords, preventing them from being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of orcs. Their formation worked, fighting side by side, aiding each other, watching openings, threats. They worked silently and efficiently. Blood colored the sand. They were familiar with each other's styles, having trained together. And this was an old dance.

Metal flashed in the sun, the weapons resounded like tuned instruments while their opponents grated and grunted. Sand and dust was kicked up by nimble feet. The orcs were relentless in their advance, the elves worked with precision and accuracy. With large mowing movements their swords made quick work of orc necks, limbs, axes, speers and rusty swords. But their speed matched that of their own and their numbers were such that the impact of losses seemed unnoticeable.

To break the impenetrable wall of bodies, Elladan jumped over two orcs, his energy high on adrenaline. He moved like water, agile like a cat. His sword flashed like lightning, sending fear into his enemies eyes. He grinned in pleasure embracing his bloodlust, his thoughts vaguely remembering his ripped fëa. He wondered if the mere thought of seeing her again had cured him of the strangeness in his body, for this battle made him feel alive once more. He flew over his enemies, cutting and slicing. He gave a battlecry, heard his brother laugh with pure joy for a moment and then pain exploded at the side of his head. Then, darkness.

Elrohir witnessed it from the corner of his eye. Within a second the unthinkable happened. His eyes lingered in a state of disbelief and shock. Elladan had penetrated the orc formation, causing mayhem. His position and his opponents forced him little by little to move away from them, until he cornered two large orcs with their backs towards an old fallen tree. His movements were fast, his battlelust sending his fëa alight almost. He seemed blurred, twisting, turning, the blade switching hands with a speed too fast for mortal eyes. But his enemies were not mortals and they acted accordingly.

One of the orcs was swinging a large club a fraction too fast for Elladan to block or evade it. The flash of red pulled Elrohir's eye towards his twin just fast enough to see him falling to the ground with a thud like a ragdoll, blood covering the side of his face. And he moved no more.

Elrohir stared in disbelief, his brother's fëa disappeared immediately, making him stumble. He could not, would not believe it! Elladan could not have fallen, he was just unconscious! He tried desperately to search for his fëa, but was hindered by his emotions that surged to the surface like a tsunami. His anger made quick work of his opponents, but not quick enough. To his utter disbelief, an orc kicked Elladan's sword away and grabbed his body like it held no weight at all, swinging it over his shoulder. It ran away with intimidating speed. Incredulously Elrohir stared at the image of Elladan's limp figure, blood dripping from his face, his hair a dark mess, almost reaching the ground. And while the orcs sped away from him, he felt a faint flicker of his fëa. And this revelation crushed his heart with fear, anger and dread.

Elrohir cried his rage, but was held off by a wall of orcs. Beating down on them, his anger crashing onto their metal protections, it seemed futile. Soon he felt Aien and Raithon at either side, aiding him to penetrate the force, but to no use.

Emotion welled up in his chest, tears burned behind his eyes. Elladan! His absent fëa felt like a black sweltering hole inside him. He fought desperately against too many of them. His energy draining, his thoughts dark and desperate. Elladan! Where will they take you brother? Flashbacks of his mother's capture re-emerged with force. Always had they thwarted fate, always had they walked on the edge of a knife. Facing danger, pain and death was a way to feel other things than pain and regret. It was a means to penetrate their feelings, their fëa, to feel something at least. But in their minds the outcome was always death, not capture and torture. Elrohir felt it like a slap in his face. After all these centuries, it never crossed their minds.

Time and pain had brought down orcs, one-dimensional creatures, evil and dumb. A strategy was not needed against them, they dived head first into the smaller and larger skirmishes, danger was always there, death breathed in their necks, but they did not consider any active plan of their enemies beyond the regular. But now, these orcs' intelligence blew him away. The idea that they could have conspired against himself and his brother was outrageous and impossible. And then, after centuries of lies against himself, this last veil lifted from his eyes. Our actions were never without consequence. The consequences were never bound to just our fate, but like a stone cast in water, far beyond it!

Their enemy seemed worthy of them after all, for they were hunted now, in numbers never seen before and they were smart, ruthless and strategic. His father was the one who had seen the consequences. He always had. And they had not listened. The realisation was a simple one, but it sent him reeling. Forgive us, ada.

A smaller more venomous thought entered his mind. Tessarion had suffered the consequences of their actions. And their chance to turn his fate they let slip because they were thinking of their own pain and fate. Foolish. Foolish they had been. And now retribution found his brother and thus himself. Tears burned behind his eyes, the consequences of centuries of self delusions crashing into him, the absence of his brother hurting him, like nothing else could. We have become vulnerable, brother. We have become a danger to all.

And then an insane idea popped in his mind. Insane. But the only option left. He could not leave Elladan behind. It was impossible. Without looking at his fellow warriors he yelled: "Aien! Raithon! Drego! Natho Den! Berio Den!"***

The warrior's stared at him in disbelief. They saw Elrohir jump forwards, his rear vulnerable all of a sudden, repeating his cry. Raithon seemed to understand first. He grabbed Aien's arm to move him out of the way, then leaped forwards, and grasped Elrohir. He sliced at an orc that tried to strike him down. When his fingers found his tunic, he pulled with force and dragged Elrond's son down and towards him, pulling him into a run, away from the orcs. They ran like the wind. Faster and faster and the orcs seemed to fall back quickly. Had they had their fill of the fight, satisfied with their prize, a Noldo Lord?

Elrohir stopped abruptly, panting. Tears of anguish were trailing down his face, but he seemed not to notice. He wrung his arm out of Raithon's hold, then grabbing him with force, staring into his eyes frantically. "Raithon! Drego! It is folly to linger! You need to save her!"

"No my Lord! Come with us and…."

Elrohir cut in forcefully: "I have to go back. It is the only way to save him or make our passing easier! I cannot leave him alone! I cannot!"

His eyes showed too much white. Raithon recognized the panic and desperation, but still shook his head. "No." and he grabbed his Lords' son even firmer to hold him, to keep him safe against better judgement, for he realised that he would not survive the torture and death of his brother.

Elrohir ground his teeth in irritation. Then within the blink of an eye, he wrenched his arms loose and hit Raithon full on his face with his head, sending him flying with a bleeding nose. Before Aien could react in any way, he ran back towards the pursuing orcs.

Aien stared. Elrohir's run towards the orcs seemed to halt their retreat and they waved back towards him until they stopped. The dark haired Noldo lord, fearless, approached, heavy with power, the first orcs cowering in his light. He walked until he stood in their midst, a dark shape in between a sea of grey bodies. Then he sheathed his sword, his head turned downwards and the light of his power died with his resolve. He seemed to shrink, become smaller and the orcs grinned and laughed, calling him names. One knocked him out with a club and like locusts they jeered and hoisted the unconscious Elrohir on their shoulders, carrying his limp body off, leaving Raithon and Aien bewildered and panicking behind.

** Go now before it is too late.

*** Half Elven prince or chief.

**** Aien! Raithon! Flee! Save her! Protect her!