Midwinter
-o0o-
His hands were numb with the cold as he dug at the snow, desperately ripping at chunks of snow and shards of ice, hoping to finally find a sign of Elladan. Another shudder shook his frame, briefly awakening the fury of his injuries, before it died down again. The cold of the mountain had numbed the pain already hours ago.
He could no longer feel the bruises on his back and chest, could not even feel the agony of his broken leg, dragging uselessly behind him as he crawled over the vast expanse of the snow-swallowed mountainside, searching for his twin.
The only pain he still felt was the raw ache of his cold and bleeding fingers, as they kept tearing at blocks of ice, leaving streaks of red in the otherwise unblemished snow. That and the dark absence of Elladan's presence from his awareness, their connection so dim that Elrohir was wondering if he only imagined it was there at all. Was he clinging to comfort and old familiarity merely to escape the cruel reality of his grief?
No! No he would not accept that gnawing doubt. Elladan was alive, he had to be! Alive and deeply unconscious - and buried somewhere in this neverending field of snow. Despair tore at him again, and just for a moment Elrohir stopped his digging and set back on his uninjured leg, letting the sheer hopelessness of the situation wash over him. The entire slope was a shifting expanse of white. The sun shone down on a swamp of viscous snow, on white clumps the size of boulders and brilliantly reflective shards of ice. He could see the mounds of his other dig sites, every single one a failed attempt, yielding no sign of his twin. And back then he had had a better idea of where Elladan might have been, where the avalanche that had torn them, horses provisions and all, from the trail might have deposited his twin.
-o0o-
The sky was only just brightening with the first wisps of dawn when they already climbed the High Pass, their horses trudging through the snow on the familiar trail. The wind was harsh and cold as it fell from the peaks of the mountains, howling over the fields of snow and in the canyons on either side, diving shrieking into the valleys below. Elrohir patted Talagor's neck, absently thanking the loyal horse for its perseverance in these foul conditions.
"There is more snow than I expected," Elladan shouted over the wind from ahead of him. "Perhaps the path is blocked after all."
"That would certainly explain Legolas' delay."
"Let us make sure." Elladan led them onward. If they continued at this pace they would reach the peak of the pass at dusk, and with luck that would give them a better idea of what had happened to the wayward prince of Mirkwood.
Legolas had assured them that he would reach Imladris well before the winter solstice, before the risk of the pass being closed by high snows and dangerous midwinter storms. But there was still no sign of him and the winter solstice was only three days hence. They expected Aragorn in Imladris tomorrow.
So where was the blonde archer?
What could have happened to him? The prince had travelled these paths for yen, and especially frequently in recent years, driven by his desire to spend time with Aragorn.
"What do you think could have delayed Legolas?" Elrohir wondered aloud. "Orcs?"
Ahead of him, Elladan shook his head. "The snow will have covered most of their doors."
Elrohir nodded, then looked around at the vast expanse of white, wondering again if the pass up ahead would be even more laden with snow, if winter had made it unpassable already. If not orcs then wha-
His thought tilled as he saw the dark shape moving against the white, saw the small projectile hurtling towards them. "Watch out!" he shouted and ducked low, feeling the whistle of a black-feathered arrow cut through the air above him. It seemed Elladan had been too optimistic in assessing the threat of orc activity.
Talagor gave a whinny as he urged the stallion forward, faster in the deep snow, following after his brother's horse. They had to get off this stretch of the path where they were no more than sitting ducks, easy targets for any archer up above. But it turned out the arrows were not what they should have feared.
Enraged by the miss of his shot, or merely in an attempt to call reinforcements, the orc on the slope raised a small dark horn to its lips and blew. A terrible note tore forth, booming over the trail, echoing from the walls of the mountains on either side, reverberating, growing. And with a mighty crack, the mountain answered.
The snow split under the very feet of the orc, swallowing the luckless creature just before the entire slope seemed to give way. Elrohir's heart froze. "Noro Lim. Noro Lim, Talagor!" he shouted, pressing his legs into the stallion's flanks. But it was no use. They could not outrun the wrath of the mountain unleashed.
With a roar that shook the land, the snow tore down the slope. Louder than a horde of oliphants and even more destructive. Inescapable, Indiscriminate, Irresistible. It felt like slamming into a wall when it struck. Elladan disappeared in front of him, just before the snow rose to engulf him as well. It tore Talagor out from under him, dragging the horse away before enveloping him in a wall of white, a clamour of boulders, snow, and ice, large and heavy as rocks.
The world disappeared in a maelstrom of white - and then everything turned black.
-o0o-
tbc…
A/N: And thus starts the final story of this Whumpvent Calendar - only 5 more days until Christmas. Enjoy!