Chapter 5

-o0o-

He sniffed the air once more, savoring the smell. The metallic tang of blood lingered, mingled with the sharp sting of fear, of despair. Oh yes. They were getting close. So close.

He started forward once more, leading his orcs, setting a leisurely pace. The elves could not outrun them forever and on the path they had chosen there was no escape. They had entered his realm and now they were his. His prey. His prize. The Dark Lord himself could not offer him a sweeter treat. He was going to savor this chase.

Breathing deeply, he tasted the air once more, and hesitated. Their stench was condensed up ahead. His yellow eyes roamed the uneven ground, the edges of the river, the sharp stones that littered the floor. There! Bending low he snatched the source of their smell off the ground. Wet rags, torn roughly then discarded without a second thought. Their wastefulness was his sweet reward. He brought the wet, bloodstained fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. His maw was watering as he imagined the torment of the elves. Their desperate attempt at escape, their laughable belief that they might yet avoid the fate he had chosen for them. He laughed, a low guttural sound, and moved forward again, slowly.

Let the elves run. Prolonged fear tenderized the meat.

Unfortunately, his boys thought differently. He could hear the squabbles in the back, the mutterings and jibes. His orcs were hungry, lusting for a fight, for blood, for destruction.

"Garlûk," his second in command warned but he could feel it himself. Their bloodlust was piqued, to deny them now would be to invite revolt.

And, well, two elves was not enough for all of them anyways.

He thrust the wet rags his prey had left behind at his lieutenant. The scent of their accursed home lingered on the cloth, it would guide his men in the world above ground, guide them straight to their Last Homely House. "Go!" He grunted at his second in command, loud enough for all of them to hear. "Lead them outside and into the valley, lead them to their feast!"

A chorus of excited cheers answered him. Jabbering exclamations of greed, of hunger, of thrill. They would raze the so-called haven of the elves to the ground.

He gestured for only his personal guard to follow him and turned away from the rest of his men, who were already clambering to turn around, to return to the broken pool and enter the world above.

Let them have their fun.

He would not forsake this hunt, not for all the elf flesh in the valley. The burning of the fields, the houses, the cribs, that would be butchery, but this, this was sport.

-o0o-

Legolas was in more pain than he would ever willingly admit. Despite the good job Estel had done, binding his back and applying the healing salve, he felt a sharp sting with every step he took as his open wound shifted. The only thing that was likely to offer him a small reprieve, Legolas knew, would be to stop moving and lay down to rest. Unfortunately, it did not look like that would be possible anytime soon.

He had hoped that they would find their horses nearby, but although Legolas could see the tracks of their passing, there was no sign of the steeds. It was too dark even to see where the trail led. Legolas' best guess was that the horses had returned to the Last Homely House, that they had alerted everyone that their riders required help. The horses were right: they desperately needed help. It was another thing he did not want to admit, but he was in no shape to walk home, and with every hour that passed his worry for Elladan and Elrohir increased. They should have been able to leave the underground tunnel by now if they had made it out of the river.

Consequently, Legolas had begun to carefully lead Estel back to the place of the cave-in. If help was on the way, it was only logical to stay near the former pools. That was where a search party was most likely to look for them. And there, at least, he could hopefully sit down and wait for help with Estel. And calm the little human down. Legolas could feel the young one's agitation. He, too, needed to rest and to stay close to the last spot he had seen his brothers.

The two of them were almost back to where they started when the hairs on the back of Legolas' neck began to rise. Something else was wrong. He could feel a dark shadow in front of them. Mustering his remaining strength and focus, Legolas pierced the darkness ahead and was shocked anew. There were orcs crawling all around the cave-in - and two of them were heading their way!

Instinct took over. He grabbed Estel and pushed him down behind a bush to hide.

-o0o-

Their wild flight through the darkness was both desperate and uncoordinated. Without light to guide them they found themselves stumbling over the rough ground underfoot, over hidden stones and through the shallows of the river whenever it blocked their path. Yet they could not afford to slow.

They had been running for what felt like hours. Elrohir's heart was hammering in his chest, his breath coming in short shallow gasps as he ran behind Elladan, trying to both keep aware of their pursuers and keep an eye on his twin. He knew Elladan would never admit it, but his injury was visibly affecting him. He lacked all of his usual grace and his feet brushed the ground more often than the darkness and their haste could explain. It was only a matter of time until Elladan's flagging energy would be entirely spent.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Elladan stumbled again, lurching forward until his flailing hands found purchase on the side wall of the tunnel, barely avoiding a fall. Elrohir stopped beside him, his chest heaving, straining with the effort of pumping air into his burning lungs.

"We have … to slow … down," he managed between gasps.

Predictably, Elladan was about to argue. "The orcs.."

Elrohir raised a hand to cut him off, asking for silence. He strained his ears, but apart from their own breathing and the rush of the water beside them he could hear nothing.

"Gone for the moment. The path is too narrow for so many to travel at speed," he reasoned. "I think we have time enough to rest a moment." He stared hard at his brother, willing him to see reason. They could not go on. His own heartbeat was still raging, a testament to how fast they had run over the uneven terrain and he knew that the stumbles along the way would not have been kind on Elladan's aching head.

Finally, blessedly, Elladan nodded his assent. "We will rest for a moment." As Elladan lowered himself to the ground he unconsciously reached for his neck, and even in the near darkness Elrohir could see the bruises forming on his twin's softly glowing skin.

"Here, let me look at that." He reached out with his own hands to probe the tender spots, grimacing in distaste when he noticed that he was leaving dark blotches on his brother's skin.

It was only now that he realized that his arms were coated in orc blood. As if fueled by the discovery his skin suddenly started itching, all along his arms and the side of his face. He dimly remembered now; the uruk who had attacked him with a crude knife. He had slit his palm on the weapon even as he wrestled it from the large beast's hand before he spun, slashing the orc's weapon across its own neck. He remembered the gurgle as it fell backward in a spray of its dark lifeblood that coated his arms and face. Then another uruk had advanced and another and he had focused only on staying alive and on reaching Elladan's side at the edge of the river, barely visible despite the little distance that lay between them. Adrenalin had fueled him then, blurring the details of his fight with the orcs. Getting covered in orc blood had seemed inconsequential.

Now though... By the Valar it was itchy!

Elladan must have guessed some of his thoughts. The corners of his mouth were lifting in a tired grin as he said: "Yes. You need a bath."

Elrohir fought the urge to roll his eyes, bringing his focus back to Elladan's bruised neck. "How is this?" he asked, gently tracing one of the claw marks. "Is your breathing affected?"

"No." Elladan replied, leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed as he let Elrohir examine him. "It certainly sounds calmer than your breathing, brother."

Letting the comment slide, Elrohir guided his brother's head forward so he could look at the bandages covering his head wound. It was hard to be sure in the dark, but he thought that the make-shift bandages remained clean. No sign of more bleeding. That at least was good.

"I think you still have not caused irreversible damage," Elrohir concluded, "despite your best efforts."

Elladan's hand swatted at him, but without even opening his eyes Elladan had no chance of actually hitting him. "Go clean yourself!" was his only comeback, a weak jibe by Elladan's standards but at least he still had the energy to be an obnoxious patient. If he had suffered through the examination in complete silence, Elrohir might have actually had to worry.

Stepping over to the underground stream, he plunged both his hands into the cold, rushing river. The icy cold stung his injured palm but numbed his hands in moments as it washed off the grime and blood of their encounter with the orcs. It was only when shivers of cold racked his frame and he was sure that he had scratched the last of the vile liquid off his face and neck that he stepped out of the water and sat back, finally allowing himself to rest as well, willing his heart and breathing to slow down while he waited to warm up again.

"We need a new way out of here." Elladan's voice cut through the darkness and the lulling sound of the rushing waves and with a start Elrohir realized that he had almost drifted off. How long had they been underground? It must be deep in the night by now. "The orcs will hold the broken pool," Elladan continued, his voice bitter, "their access into Imladris."

Their eyes met in the darkness, both of them aware of the danger the host of orcs they had seen would pose to their home. "We need to warn Glorfindel," Elrohir agreed. He struggled to his feet and helped Elladan up, understanding what his twin had intended to say. They had to continue. There was no time to waste.

Getting out and back to Rivendell had to be their priority, yet even sharper than the fear for their home was the uncertainty over Legolas' and Estel's fate. Where was his little brother? Was he safe?

He hated that he did not know, that they had been forced to flee away from the one place where they might have found their little brother. Now, he could only hope that Estel and Legolas would have made their way back to the surface before the orcs arrived. That they would have found their horses and would be even now on the way back home to bring help. It was a lot to hope for.

Unbidden, the darkness conjured images of the alternative, some remembered horrors, other new terrifying visions of torture and despair. He blinked his eyes furiously, trying to dispel the haunting pictures that flashed before his eyes, blocking out the dark path of the tunnel ahead.

No! He would not consider this possibility, could not even face the idea of his baby brother being a hostage in the hands of the orcs!

His own breathing was loud in his ears when his vision finally cleared. He shuddered again as a cold breeze streamed past him and wrapped his arms around his bare chest in a feeble attempt to warm himself. This was not right, he should not feel the cold so keenly, nor should his heartbeat be still so furious in his chest. And those haunting visions … something was very wrong.

His palm stung where he was holding his arm and he raised it thoughtfully in front of his face. In the dark the cut he found seemed clean, small, insignificant - but then it would after a prolonged wash in the icy river.

Still, it had been carved by an orc blade.

Elrohir swallowed thickly as the implications sank in.

A shuffle sounded from ahead and, startled, Elrohir realized that Elladan was a good twenty feet ahead of him, his faint light almost swallowed by the oppressive darkness. Even now Elladan was walking unsteadily, his hand brushing the wall for support, not even bothering to hide his weakness from Elrohir. What was more, he clearly had not noticed his twin lagging behind.

Not sure whether to be concerned or relieved, Elrohir hurried to catch up to his twin, blocking from his treacherous mind all other thoughts than that of their walk and their escape from these tunnels. They had to get out of here first, everything else would have to wait.

-o0o-

Estel felt Legolas' weight press him to the ground. He didn't know what was happening. Before he could shout out in surprise though, a hand clasped over his mouth and Legolas' voice hissed a quiet whisper in his ear: "Quiet!"

Something was going on and although he didn't know what it was, Estel knew enough to realize that if Legolas acted like this, he should do as he was told. He nodded his head and even though Legolas couldn't see him, he must have felt the movement and recognized Estel's consent. Legolas slowly removed his hand.

Estel made a conscious effort to calm his breathing and relax, as his adar had taught him. As the calm settled in his bones, Estel could finally hear what had caused Legolas to push him out of the way. There were footsteps walking towards them. Estel could hear them getting closer and closer and though he did not know who they belonged to, even he could recognize that these were not elven footsteps. Whoever was walking past them, was making way too much noise to be an elf. If he hadn't been so consumed by his frustration and his own thoughts, Estel would have heard them sooner as well.

Once they had walked past, Estel carefully moved his head to the side and tried to catch a glimpse of the beings. Unfortunately, it was too dark to make out anything but their silhouette. There were two of them and they were rather small and bulky. Not that Estel had met many men before, but they didn't seem to fit these silhouettes. Who were they? They were moving oddly and Estel could hear the clang of metal weapons. Whoever they were, they were armed and clearly looking for something.

Estel was confused, what was going on? How could armed strangers be in the Hidden Valley? Rivendell's borders were well protected, he knew - his adar and Glorfindel told him so all the time. These beings shouldn't be here…

Just as this thought crossed his mind, one of the beings turned towards them and the clouds must have dispersed to let some starlight through because Estel could make out the creature's features; most strikingly its yellow eyes and crooked nose. Before he could help it he gasped audibly, because he recognized the creature. He had only seen them once before, years ago when he was younger and decided to search for his missing brothers on his own at night. Orcs!

It had been foolish to go after the twins then, and while looking for them, he had stumbled upon the mangled corpses of several orcs that the twins had killed. Although those orcs had been dead, the images from back then had haunted his nightmares ever since.

Now his nightmares had come alive and were only a few feet away. They had come for him! Fear consumed him. What could he do? There was no ada, no brothers, and no Glorfindel to protect him. He knew Legolas would try, but he was hurt so badly. Could he even fight these evil creatures? No! They needed to get away right now!

Estel began to struggle against Legolas' hold. Didn't Legolas understand? They had to run away! They had to move! Now!

Terrified Estel became aware that the second orc had also turned and now both orcs were looking in their direction. They had heard them. They were going to find them. Legolas and he would surely die!

-o0o-

tbc...