The Jaws of defeat

Chapter 1: The storm was growling

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When Estel had first declared this morning that their trip outside of Rivendell would be a test of their survival skills in the wild, Elladan had not expected his words to ring with foresight. He and Elrohir had only meant to take their young brother hunting, to teach him some of the skills of the wild that he would need as a ranger. But with Estel barely old enough to bring a standard Rivendell bow to full draw, seeking actual danger had never been part of their plan.

Unfortunately, danger had found them.

It had started with a storm that had come in from the North, over the peaks of the Trollshaws, catching them unawares. It brought the icy cold of Angmar riding on gale force winds and small shards of ice mixed in sheets of torrential rain. It turned the ground to slick, slimy mud in moments, treacherous among the darkness that the storm had brought. The rain had quenched their fire and only the occasional bolt of lightning now illuminated their surroundings in blinding flashes for brief seconds at a time.

In one of those flashes he had last seen Elrohir.

When the storm had swept down upon them, Elladan had grabbed Estel and had set to securing their camp with the boy by his side. Elrohir, predictably, had rushed to calm their horses, nervously prancing at the edge of the stream.

But then, a sudden bolt of lightning had struck the ground not ten feet from the animals. There was a thunderous crash, a shower of mud and stones flung up by the impact and the horses had reared and fled. There was no trace of Elrohir, save the dull ache in Elladan's chest and the dimness of their bond that suggested his twin was unconscious. All he had been able to see in the dark was the stark afterimage of the lightning bolt, and flashes of a scene that kept replaying over and over before his eyes: Mithelef, panicked beyond reason rearing up on his hindlegs, his fluttering hooves catching Elrohir in the chest, sending him falling backward. Sudden darkness had cut off the images, but Elladan knew where his twin had stood, knew where the fall would have carried him: Into the wildly rushing stream. Whipped up by the winds and the rain the rivulet had become a maelstrom; It would have dragged Elrohir off in moments.

"Dan! Dan! Elladan!" It took Estel grabbing his hand for Elladan to shake off his momentary stupor and turn to his young human brother. There was stark fear on Estel's wet face. "What do we do?"

Elladan pulled himself together. "We follow the stream," he said decisively, aiming to calm his brother - and perhaps the worry in his own heart. "Gather our gear." He had to shout over the storm to be understood, but was gratified to find Estel spring into action, never hesitating to follow his orders.

Elladan bent to retrieve his own pack, his healing supplies and sword, just as a sudden sound stopped him in his tracks. He rose slowly. No! Certainly he was mistaken; It had been the wind. It must have been.

Then the sound came again.

Estel's head whipped up and around, locking on him. He had heard it, too. "What was that?"

"Wargs," Elladan replied, tense. There was no doubt left. "Run! Across the stream, towards the cliffs. Go!"

He drew his sword, and took the pack from Estel's hand, shoving the boy gently into motion. He recognized the pale look of sudden horror, the wide eyes on his brother's face, but they could not hesitate. "Run!" he said again, and then they were off.

The stream was a wild thing as they waded through it, half swimming. It tore at their cloaks and legs, threatening to take them off their feet and carry them after Elrohir. For a moment, Elladan wondered if they should just let it, but then discarded the thought. The risk would be too great. Water, untamed and out of control was a dangerous thing to play with. And Uinen was not always interested in watching after the children of Illuvatar.

But even though he tried to focus on their flight, the thought of his twin brought a pang of uncertainty. Elrohir was still unconscious from what he could feel through their bond, but at least he was alive. He could only hope his twin would remain that way, and that he would have been carried out of reach of the wargs.

Beyond the stream, the steeply rising cliffs of the Trollshaws came into view quickly. Dark and imposing even in the darkness of the night and the still falling rain. They peeled themselves from the dark, all jagged edges and giant boulders, fallen and cracked, tumbled against one another. An inhospitable country and a near unclimbable maze.

Just what he and Estel needed.

He scanned the cliff face with practiced eyes, looking for a deeper shadow among the jumble of broken rock and smooth stone. "There!" He said, pointing to a crevice on the cliff, half hidden behind a giant slab of stone that must have fallen at some point in the last age. "A cave".

It would likely not be big, but importantly its entrance was small - too slim to fit a full grown warg. He hoped. Estel turned towards him, uncertainty shining in his silver eyes.

"Go!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Go!" He pushed Estel's arm in the right direction and whirled around, drawing his sword and raising it at the same time. He had seen the way Estel's eyes had widened, and had correctly interpreted what his little brother had seen behind him.

A gigantic warg sprang from the banks of the river and lunged straight at him. His raised sword saved his life, as the warg bit down on the unforgiving metal but the warg's momentum barreled into him and carried him to the ground. He thought he could hear Estel scream his name, but the impact drove the air from his lungs and brought a sharp ringing to his ears. For a moment he saw stars. As his vision cleared he looked directly into the slavering maw of the warg. It was still biting down on his sword, the only thing between it and his throat, manically gnawing and pressing down, attempting to get closer to Elladan's jugular.

Slaver dripped down from its slobbering jaws, mixing with bright red blood from where it cut itself on the sharp metal. It seemed not to care. Its foul breath was hot on his face, but Elladan was not yet defeated. The sword, its point stuck into the ground on the left side of his face and its pommel still gripped tightly in his right hand, kept the warg at bay. With his free left hand, Elladan fumbled at his waist, locating the hunting knife he luckily had stuck into his belt in a hurry when the storm had struck. With strength born from desperation he brought the knife up and struck it deep into the soft skin under the growling jaws of the massive beast. It reared back, howling in pain; As it tottered it stepped on Elladan's legs and its claws bit deep. Gritting his teeth against the new pain, Elladan moved up as the warg moved back, never letting go of his weapons. And as the beast finally opened its maw to release his sword, he was ready. With his last strength he swiped the sword to the right then brought it around sharply and stabbed it deep into the rearing warg's chest. Its scream cut off abruptly. The world stilled. And the beast fell dead.

Elladan looked at its carcass, his chest heaving, his leg buckling. He could feel the warm stream of his own blood running down his thigh, but his exhaustion and his pain meant little in the face of what he spotted on the warg's neck. A thick band of rough leather wrapped around its throat, forming loops. A handhold of sorts.

This warg had a rider.

"Elladan!" Estel was suddenly at his side, taking his arm. Raw worry on his face. "You are injured."

Elladan barely heard him over the rushing in his ears, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His mind was screaming at the danger they suddenly found themselves in, the danger that Estel was in. And his foolish little brother had still not climbed to the cave. "RUN!" he roared, forceful enough to make Estel flinch back, but at least the boy finally followed his command. "Go!" he shouted again, following his brother's advance with his eyes until he was sure he was safely between the boulders of the cliff, would find his way into the slim cave entrance of the cave.

Only once Estel disappeared between the boulders did he turn around, raising his sword again, more slowly, begging his leg to support him a bit longer. It was still on fire, throbbing in agony. But that did not matter.

He would protect Estel.

His breathing had calmed by the time the other two wargs slipped out of the darkness, their jaws snapping.

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tbc…

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