And Help Arrived
-o0o-
It took Elrohir three attempts to force his heavy lids open, squinting up at the falling rain and the dark sky. What had happened?
The first sensation that registered was that he was wet. Utterly drenched, and strangely cold. Rain still fell on him, dripping onto the exposed skin of his face and hands, but even that could not account for the way his clothes stuck to him, or the way his boots seemed to be positively filled with water. A soft but insistent tug pulled on his legs, and it took him a moment to realize that they were still submerged in a stream, the water pulling insistently on his feet and legs, trying to drag him back in.
Back in! With a sudden rush his memories returned; the sharp kick of Mithelef's flailing hooves, the tumble into the cold waters of the nearby stream, enraged and empowered by the storm. And as if conjured by his returned memories, a sharp pain sprang to life in his chest, leaching fire into the cold skin, replacing discomfort with agony. He drew in a sharp breath, then coughed, realizing his mistake too late. Something seemed to shift against his painfully spasming lungs as Elrohir rolled over, turning onto his side to ease his breathing and the pain both. It did little good.
With a silent moan he buried the side of his face against the wet ground, closing his eyes until the worst of the pain had passed.
He did not know how long he lay there, but a soft puff of warm air suddenly brushed his cheek and a second later something warm and wet pressed gently against his cheek. Something that carried a warm and wonderfully welcome scent. A smile sprang onto Elrohir's face even before he opened his eyes and turned his head back around.
"Talagor." He spoke softly, avoiding taking deeper breaths, but his horse heard him regardless and gave a soft whinny in reply - or perhaps agreement. "It is good to see you, too." Elrohir said, still smiling, reaching a hand up to the side of his stallion's head, brushing the warm, wet fur.
"A little help?" he requested and Talagor lay down beside him obediently, letting Elrohir sling an arm around his neck before the horse stood up again, pulling him along. The world tilted dangerously as Elrohir regained his feet, but Talagor remained close, waiting patiently until Elrohir released his hold. Steady enough to remain standing on his own - he hoped.
He took a step back from Talagor's side, and encouraged by his success of remaining upright, gently lifted his hands up, letting them hover over his chest before probing the ribs one by one. He hissed at even the slightest touch, sharp pain flaring to angry life, and steeled himself before pressing harder, testing their integrity. Just as he had feared the bone shifted. Nausea rose in his throat but he forced it down and continued undeterred, probing the next rib. That one was broken, too. He sighed, halfway between a moan of pain and a sound of sheer exasperation. Injured by a horse - Elladan would never let him live this down.
The thought of his twin brought a sudden feeling of unease and he closed his eyes, probing in the corner of his mind where his twin's steady presence had been ever since they had been born. What he felt through their bond now made him snap his eyes open and call Talagor back to his side. He had no time to waste.
As Talagor took a step closer, Elrohir's eyes landed on his horse's side - and the bow and arrows still bound to it. He never had gotten around to fully drop the gear from his back before the storm had struck. Now it seemed his oversight was proving to be a gift of the Valar.
With gritted teeth and considerable effort, Elrohir swung himself up onto Talagor's back, before urging him forward with a slight touch of his legs. The grey stallion moved with care, picking a smooth, even path through the forest, trying to avoid jostling his rider. But Elladan was injured. Only haste would do now.
With a soft whisper he urged Talagor into a trot, slinging his left hand around his ribs to brace them against the pain of the jarring movements. It did little good. But Elrohir was no stranger to pain and he suppressed it now as best he could, focusing instead on the dark forest ahead of him, the emptiness beneath the boughs of the trees - the silence that surrounded him. The animals had fled this part of the forest.
But in the stillness the sounds of a desperate struggle reached him all the clearer. He heard the animalistic growls first, followed by a bone-chilling wail and terrible slavering snapping noises. Jaws with wicked teeth closing on flesh.
Wargs!
Talagor slowed suddenly, his ears flicking uneasily left and right, his breathing loud and frantic in the cold night air; Tiny puffs of mist that rose from his nostrils. Stroking the stallion's neck to calm him, Elrohir held him back. Talagor was trained for battle and would not hesitate to charge even a full grown warg, but Elrohir needed to know what exactly they were facing - and most importantly where his brothers were.
He recognized the area up ahead, just across the stream were the sad remains of their erstwhile camping spot, the logs that had been their fire not even smouldering anymore in the rain that continued to fall. But it was not the other side of the bank that held Elrohir's interest.
There - movement! A shape loped from the darkness of the night, growling low. A warg. And on its back was the unmistakable twisted form of a goblin, its grey skin wet and dripping onto the fur of the beast it was riding. They slowed, then stopped and Elrohir tried to look past them, tried to spot what it was that had arrested their movements. When he did, he gasped.
Elladan! His twin was covered in blood, and even at this distance Elrohir had no trouble connecting the phantom pain that still reverberated in his own body with the injuries on his twin. It took visible effort for Elladan to turn, to focus on the warg and its rider that were mustering him. Elrohir clutched for his bow and quiver, his pain forgotten as he saw the orc move, saw it raise something from its side. Across the forest Elladan sprang into motion as well, but Elrohir only had eyes for his target. His ribs protested sharply as he brought his bow to full draw, as he held his breath and released the bow string, but it did not matter. All that mattered was that his arrow flew true, burying itself into the back of the vile orc, ending its life.
But he had been too slow. Just before his arrow had hit, before the silver projectile flung by his twin had glanced off the warg's pelt, the orc had managed to blow one short blast on his horn.
And even as the warg turned and ran, that call was answered by others of its kind. Twisted, crude notes that tore through the stillness of the forest - way too close to his ailing twin. Already he could see new shapes dashing through the darkness, disturbing the forest on his right, searching for the origin of the call.
Elrohir drew another arrow. Holding his breath as the strain of drawing the string of his bow made the raw edges of his broken ribs grind painfully against each other. His hand was shaking, even the rush of adrenalin no longer enough to block the pain of his injuries. The arrow quavered, but it did not need to fly true, did not need to hit anything. All he needed was to get the wargs' attention.
The arrow sprang from his bowstring, streaking off into the forest, leaves rustling in its wake. Elrohir lost sight of it, but the high pitched pain-filled squeak of a warg was unmistakable. As was the angry shout of orc voices that followed. He had definitely gotten their attention now.
"Noro Lim, Talagor!" The command was almost unnecessary, his horse already moving, speeding up with each long stride.
"There!" "Elf scum!" Dark voices trailed after him, accompanied by angry growls and a low keening howl. Another horn blast reverberated from the trees around him. But Talagor was unimpressed. He followed the course of the stream, dancing around lone trees and jumping over low obstacles, his footing secure, his stride unbroken. There was no way the wargs would catch him.
Elrohir leaned low over his stallion's neck, bracing his ribs as best he could while maintaining a safe seat. He did not need to steer, trusting Talagor entirely to find the fastest way east, the quickest way to Rivendell's border. When he reached it at last, it seemed he had been expected.
A flock of white birds flew past him, no, not birds, white-fletched arrows. Behind him wargs and orcs screamed in pain. How close had they been? Elrohir had never turned to look back.
Talagor slowed to a trot, then a walk, nickering softly, worried; and Elrohir reached out a hand, weakly placing it on his stallion's neck, muttering soft reassurances and praise.
"Elrohir!" A calloused hand closed over his own, still stroking Talagor's neck, startling him into looking up. Straight into the worried eyes of Glorfindel. How often had the seneschal called his name?
"Wargs," he said, unnecessarily - for surely Glorfindel had realized what he and his warriors had been shooting at. But that was not what mattered now. "We need to get to Elladan and Estel. Follow me."
He saw the doubt flicker over Glorfindel's face, mustering him, and Elrohir straightened demonstratively, willing the exhaustion from his bones, the pain from his stiff muscles. His eyes were hard when he said: "I know the way."
It was enough. Glorfindel gave a nod, satisfied. "Lead on."
And almost as fast as his flight from the pursuing wargs, Elrohir led Glorfindel and the company of Rivendell elves back to the edge of the Trollshaws, to the bottom of a steeply rising cliff, surrounded by warg riders. The horns of Rivendell blew the attack and the orcs and wargs fell, decimated in moments, the forest cleansed.
-o0o-
When he heaved himself through the small opening of the cave he was caught within moments in the exuberant embrace of his younger brother.
"Elrohir! You came!" Estel exuded relief, as he buried his face in Elrohir's shoulder, squeezing tight enough to grate against his broken ribs. Elrohir tensed, suppressing the urge to hiss in pain and alarm his baby brother.
But Elladan, he realized when looking beyond Estel's tousled hair, had noticed. His twin was mustering him with sharp, critical eyes; But given his own sorry state - his leg, chest and wrist swathed in thick bandages - he was smart enough not to comment. Instead the older twin addressed Estel. "I told you he would."
"Yes, but you said you weren't sure if he would bring reinforcements."
Over Estel's shoulder, Elrohir raised an eyebrow at his twin. Elladan merely shrugged.
"You were lucky you did," Estel informed the younger twin conspiratorially, letting go and moving back as far as the small cave would admit, "Elladan had his lecture already planned."
The End
And thus ends the first story of this advent whumpvent calendar - I do hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please let me know :o)
