Chapter 3: The Horns Are Blowing

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The second Estel was past the sloping slab of stone and into the den that Elladan had euphemistically called a cave, Estel turned around, trying to pierce the darkness outside. The space around him was a shallow hollow, barely an overhang in the cliffside, created perhaps in a time gone by when a waterfall had fallen over the cliff and dug this space. Only the boulders that had since fallen in front of it made it resemble a cave. They had fallen haphazardly, leaving plenty of cracks through which the rain still fell – but none that were big enough for a warg to crawl through. Of that he had no doubt. He had seen the beast that had attacked his brother, from much closer than he had ever wished to nor would ever want to see again. No wonder orcs rode on these beasts, they were closer to the size of his old pony than to that of wolves.

And Elladan was out there fighting more of them.

He had seen the frightening shapes peel themselves from the darkness, and he knew that Elladan would not have fled and followed his own orders to seek safety until they were destroyed. Worry filled every fiber of his body, and his heart hammered in his chest at the danger his eldest brother was facing. He wished he could have stayed, wished he could have helped, but rationally he knew that he would merely have put himself in danger, would have forced Elladan to watch out for the both of them. Beyond that, Estel had no desire to invite Elladan's anger a second time. His brother had been terrifying.

Rain still fell through the cracks of his confinement, and Estel slung his arms around his legs, trying to preserve some of his warmth. His hands were shaking with cold, or perhaps fear, or both. Beyond the gray curtain of the falling rain and in the darkness outside, he could see nothing. And above the howling of the wind that whistled through the crevices and fell down the cliffside with mournful howls, he heard just as little. Was Elladan still fighting? Was he still alive?

Estel shook his head, trying to dislodge the invasive thought, the terrible doubt. Elladan would be fine. He would defeat the wargs and come find him. His brothers were invincible. He tried to cling to that firm belief from his childhood, tried to conjure the surety he had felt as a young boy. But he had seen Elladan return from patrol injured, his shoulder stained with blood. He had seen Elrohir barely clinging to his horse, his twin behind him the only thing holding him up. Ever since he had been old enough to walk the halls of the Last Homely House unsupervised, to visit the Halls of Healing without anyone to hold him back, he had seen that even Elladan and Elrohir could be injured. That not every one of their patrols or hunts ended in glorious victory and the defeat of their enemies.

They used to tell him that being together kept them safe, that with their twin to secure their back there was nothing to worry about. But Elrohir was not here. Lost somewhere in the storm and the raging stream, and Elladan was alone. Estel swallowed around the painful lump in his throat, shaking his head again, harder this time. No! He would not think about Elladan's fight against the monstrous shadows, would not think about Elrohir's absence. He would do as his brother had commanded and wait. However long it took.

He set to looking outside again, desperately trying to pierce the gloom and rain.

When a bloodied hand grasped the edge of the cave entrance he screamed.

But a moment later, the hand was followed by Elladan's head as he heaved himself up and over the edge, scrabbling for a hold deeper in the cave to pull himself inside. Estel scrambled forward, taking his shoulders but letting go immediately when Elladan hissed, drawing in a sharp breath. Was his brother still mad at him? But no, he could see the blood coating Elladan's entire left side now, starting from just below his shoulder. Taking heart, Estel reached for the twin's right hand instead and gently but steadily pulled his brother through the opening and into the cave.

When the full extent of Elladan's injuries was revealed he gasped, suddenly feeling faint. There was so much blood.

"You're injured," he mumbled numbly even as Elladan sank back heavily against the wall of the shallow cave, closing his eyes. Fear sparked through Estel, bringing a sudden clarity and he fell to his knees at his brother's side. "What do I do?"

"The pouch," Elladan wheezed and Estel followed his gaze back to the entrance of the cave, where a familiar leather bag lay by the entrance. Elladan must have pushed it in ahead of heaving himself into the small cave. And despite the near darkness, Estel recognized the supple gray leather immediately. His heart gave a jolt as hope kindled within. Elrohir's healing kit.

He retrieved it in moments, rummaging through it. His shaking hands closed around a flask filled with a pale, milky liquid. Dwale, he knew, a powerful painkiller and sedative, but Elladan shook his head. "Not that. The miruvor will do. And athelas oil, for the wounds, if you can find it."

It took Estel a moment longer but eventually he retrieved the two liquids, putting the oil gently on the ground and unstoppering the cork of the miruvor flask. Elladan took the proffered bottle and downed its contents in one gulp. But despite the energizing effects of the cordial, Elladan hissed in pain. The movement, small though it was, must have jostled his injured side - or his injured arm and leg. Estel still had trouble wrapping his head around the sheer extent of Elladan's injuries.

"The knife," Elladan gently proffered, his voice a lot more solid than Estel's nerves.

"Ah, yes." He took it out and offered it to his eldest brother, but Elladan gave him an apologetic look and a soft shake of his head.

"I am afraid I will need your help."'

"Oh, right, I …" Estel took a breath, stabilizing his stuttering, bobbing speech, "What do I do?" he asked again, calmer this time. And under Elladan's patient guidance he cut the fabric of his shirt and trousers from around the wounds, revealing the full, cruel extent of them. Estel felt like retching, but he had helped in the Halls of Healing before, and even though this was Elladan, his brother, he clamped down on the urge, on the feeling of rising nausea. He needed to concentrate. Closing his thoughts to all else than to the soft timbre of Elladan's voice he followed his instructions almost mechanically, refusing to think about the amount of blood he was cleaning up, or the amount of it Elladan had likely already lost. The miruvor would enhance his brother's spirit, would lent him strength and energy, but it could not replenish the vital fluid that ran through his veins.

He applied the athelas oil, a natural disinfectant that should help reduce the risk of infection from the dirty wounds torn by the wargs teeth and claws, flinching himself when his brother tensed beneath his touch. He could only imagine the sting of the medicinal herb.

By the time he finally wound white bandages around his brother's leg, both him and Elladan were shaking from exhaustion. But it was only when Elladan's hand landed on his shoulder and drew up to cup the side of his face, wiping at his cheek that Estel realized he was crying. "I…" he began, but Elladan interrupted him.

"You did well, little brother."

Estel smiled. But just then a ghastly howl echoed from outside, reverberating from the close walls of their little cave shelter among the rocks. A second later it was echoed by another, and then the sound of an eerie horn being blown. He had whirled to the entrance at the first sound, but the rain outside still made it near impossible to see anything and he turned back, fixing his wide eyes on Elladan instead.

Before he could form the question, Elladan spoke. "Orcs," he said. "Warg riders. They do not yet know where we are. I am surprised it took them this long to get here."

"How can you be sure?"

"The horn blast," Elladan answered, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, tiredness heavy in his voice. The effects of the miruvor were wearing off. "It is a call to search and hunt, not one to attack."

For a brief moment, curiosity stirred in Estel and he burned to know how his brother knew - how had he learned the signals of the orcs? But then, remembering the ugly wounds now hidden beneath white bandages, he realized that perhaps he did not want to know.

He moved back to the edge of the cave entrance again, trying to see out of the small alcove, past the heavily leaning slab of rock that blocked most of it. He thought there might be shadows moving against the gray curtain of falling rain if he squinted.

"The wargs will not fit in here, Estel. Do not worry."

"What about the orcs?"

"They will not dare."

Estel doubted that though he said nothing. And yet, Elladan, opening his gray eyes to look at him, must have seen it on his face. "The slim opening would force them to attack one at a time. None of them will volunteer to die first." He took a deep breath, placing the hand of his uninjured arm over his left side to brace it against the pain. "And they have less time than they suspect. Elrohir will come."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," Elladan said simply. "And if we are in luck, he will bring Glorfindel and half the warriors of Imladris with him."

That thought did help to put Estel at ease, but he did not like the 'if' in that sentence, and his doubt was a stubborn thing. "What if he did not get back to Rivendell in time. What if he decides to attack by himself?" Estel never stopped to consider Elladan would be wrong about Elrohir coming to their aid at all. If Elladan said that Elrohir would come, then he would. That at least he did not question.

Surprisingly, Elladan smiled, as if Estel questioning Elrohir's tactical decision making was a thing of great amusement to him. "In that case Elrohir is about to face something much more terrifying than a few wargs and their riders."

"What?"

"The lecture I intend to give him."

Despite himself Estel snorted a laugh. It fell into the darkness of their cave like a jingle of silver bells, bringing its own kind of light. And a moment later the sound turned even sweeter. The horns of Rivendell were ringing outside.

tbc…

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So what's the opposite of a cliffhanger? Resolution? Relief? A Christmas miracle? :D