Chapter 3 - I shall be there
Years
passed. Estel continued to travel with the rangers. In time,
they discovered his true identity and he came into his rightful
place as their leader. He took Calendil as his second, the slightly
older man having become a treasured friend.
Still, he returned to Rivendell and his family whenever he could.
Elladan he knew continued to roam the wilds alone, something
that worried Estel greatly. They had on occasion met up and
Elladan had travelled with them for a while. Estel had hoped
he would stay, but it had reminded Elladan too much of the times
he had ridden with the rangers together with Elrohir. He had
left them to wander the wilds once more, only occasionally returning
home.
Elrond worried about him, but had not the heart to forbid him
his journeys, praying that he might find peace somewhere along
the way. Still, he missed him terribly. His own heart still
grieved for Elrohir and though he thanked the Valar that Elladan
had not faded, sometimes he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t
lost both his sons.
Estel
thought back to the last time he had been home. It had not been
a happy occasion. Elrond had sent for him, requesting his presence
on the 1000th anniversary of Elrohir’s death. He feared
that Elladan would need all the support he could get on this
milestone day, support he would not be able to give as he grieved
his son.
He had been right. His brother had cried all day, under the
weeping willow. Estel had found him there and had sat with him,
soothing him as best he could. It was on that day he came to
realise how elves saw the passing of time. 1000 years was both
an eternity and a mere moment in time. Elladan had been parted
from his brother for a millennium, but the grief was still raw
and fresh. It was, Estel supposed, the reason elves had so many
problems with grief. Yet he was a proud of his brother, any
lesser elf would have faded long ago, but Elladan was a survivor.
That
had been some four months ago. He really should try to get back
again soon he thought. He cared deeply for Elladan and had always
been close to his brother. He would have done anything to help
him, but not all the love in the world could bring Elrohir back
from the dead.
“As soon as we clear this area of orcs and wargs, I’ll
take a trip home and hope he’s there.” He vowed.
*********************************
Elladan walked lightly over the snow that covered the path to
the Misty Mountains. He had taken the long way round, unable
to bring himself to go past *that* cave. He wasn’t really
looking where he was going, trusting his feet and instincts
while his mind wandered to the missing part of his heart once
more.
Elrohir. His twin, his other half. Gone now for a whole millennium,
yet always in his heart - and his memories.
*Flashback*
“Thunk.”
The arrow hit the target in the blue ring at three o clock.
The elfling scowled and shot another. It landed close to the
first. He shot a third arrow. It hit just below the other two.
“I give up!” He cried. “They will not go in
the centre!” Glorfindel laughed.
“Patience Elrohir! You cannot expect to become an expert
overnight! It takes years of practice to become a good archer!
You are actually doing very well; they are all grouping in the
same place, which is an excellent sign! So do not mope, step
aside and let your brother have a go!” Pouting, Elrohir
left the shooting line as Elladan stepped up.
Elladan’s first arrow hit the blue at seven o clock. His
second hit the red at five o clock. His third, to his great
delight, just hit the edge of the gold.
“Look!” He cried. Look Glorfy, look ‘Ro, I
got one in the gold!”
“That’s very good Elladan.” Glorfindel said
with a smile. “But remember, you need to be able to get
all your arrows in the same place every time. That is more important
that just getting one in the gold. It is called consistency.
Elrohir, I think you have consistency, but you need to work
on getting them in the right place! Still, our lesson is over
for today, well done both of you.” The twins grinned and
rushed off, chattering happily about the lesson.
As
they had grown older, it had become apparent that Elrohir was
the slightly better archer, while Elladan was better at swordplay.
Elrohir also had another talent, one that Elladan found both
amusing and heart warming to watch.
“No,
hold it like this.” Elladan smiled as his twin positioned
the youngster’s hands on the bow. Glorfindel has been
busy of late and so the twins had taken over one of Glorfindel’s
more pleasant but no less important duties - the training of
the next generation of warriors. Elrohir was teaching the archery
class.
Elrohir stepped back as the elfling made the shot. The arrow
hit the red at four o clock, a vast improvement from the previous
two attempts, which had only just scraped onto the white of
the target. Elrohir was a natural teacher and the elflings adored
him.
He
wished he’d been around to teach Estel.
The
little human flung down his small training bow and stomped off.
“Estel wait!” Elladan called, rushing after him
and stepping in front of the boy. The child glared at him.
“No!” He yelled. “It doesn’t work! I
don’t want to do it anymore!” He tried to move past
the elf, but Elladan refused to let him.
“Estel, you must not give up! We all go through this when
we are learning. You must practice, only then will you improve!”
He desperately wished Elrohir were there, his brother had been
a far better teacher than he was.
Estel’s temper tantrum has come about after all three
of his arrows had failed to hit the target. He young human looked
ready to explode and Elladan lacked his brother’s gentle
patience. “What would Elrohir do?” He asked himself.
He already knew the answer. His brother’s voice sounded
clearly in his memory.
“Don’t tell them what they’re doing wrong,
tell them what they’re doing right. Do not underestimate
the importance of the error, but do not make it seem like it
the end of Arda!”
Taking his brother’s words to heart, Elladan knelt before
Estel and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“Estel, missing the target does not mean you are a bad
archer. Your style is very good; we just need to work on your
aim! So come, let’s practice some more shall we?”
His gentle tone was rewarded with a tentative nod from Estel.
Smiling, Elladan took the small hand in his and led him back
to the practice range.
“Thank you brother.”
*End
Flashback*
Elladan
smiled slightly at the memories and the memories of memories.
Estel had become an accomplished archer since that almost disastrous
day, He had continued to tutor him for some years after, one
year getting help from Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, whom Estel
had taken an instant liking to.
“Perhaps I should visit Mirkwood.” He thought idly
as he walked closer to the mountains. It had been a long time
since he’d last walked in the woodland realm, at least
five centuries. The prince and his father had been good friends
of his once, until the tragedy in his life had caused him to
withdraw and distance himself from those who could further wound
his heart. Estel was the first person that had made him feel
alive again.
********************************
Strider
groaned and pulled the thin blanket over his head. Calendil
laughed. “Come now Strider! The sun is up, it is time
to be away!” The ranger sat up and glared at his friend.
“We have not ceased fighting for a single day these past
two weeks. We have not had four hours rest. It is freezing cold.
There is simply no good reason for you to be cheerful. So for
the Valar’s sake, shut up Calendil!” The only response
he got was another laugh. Sighing, he sat up and began to ready
himself for another gruelling day. As they got closer to the
misty mountains, the chances of stumbling across orc lairs and
patrols grew. As soon as they’d cleared this latest incursion,
Estel vowed to take the whole lot of them to Rivendell, for
some much needed rest and recuperation. That did not look like
being soon though was he thought as his scout came running full
out towards him, gasping for breath and managing a single word
as he pointed north.
“Orcs!”
“Here
we go again.” Strider thought grimly as he took in the
sixty-strong orc patrol. They would have to kill at least four
each to stand a chance of prevailing. He stood his ground with
the others, his bow in his hand, an arrow ready to fly. Calendil
was next to him, his bow also drawn and ready.
As the orcs came into sight, the rangers released a barrage
of arrows. Several orcs fell, but many were wearing armour and
the arrows did not penetrate. This battle was going to have
to be hand-to-hand combat.
As soon as the orcs were close enough, Strider drew his sword.
His eyes narrowed as he selected a target. A moment later the
orcs were amongst them and he was slicing and hacking at the
creatures. Their armour was incredibly tough and while his elvish
sword cleaved it easily, the others were having problems.
Ducking a viscous swipe from an orcish blade, he sliced the
beast across the stomach. Spinning round, he thrust his blade
through the neck of an orc Calendil was struggling with. His
sword sliced the armour there far easier than anywhere else.
“Go for the neck!” He yelled to the rangers. “The
armour is weaker!” Without stopping, he took the head
off another nearby orc.
From the corner of his eye he saw half a dozen orcs break off
and head back the way they’d come from. Immediately, Estel
knew that they were hiding something. He called out to Calendil.
“I’m going after them! Stay here and finish this
lot off!” Calendil nodded and fought on, not daring to
speak lest he was distracted. Estel called to two rangers, bidding
them follow him.
Knowing Calendil and the others could handle the patrol now
that they knew their weakness, Estel wasted no time in chasing
the escaping orcs.
The three humans were faster than the evil beasts and caught
up with them before they reached their camp. Three fell to the
ranger’s arrows, their hideous shrieks filling the air.
Strider tried to get another, but this orc was swifter than
most and dodged the arrow. Lunging, he swung his sword outwards
and by sheer luck, managed to sever the orc’s right foot.
It went down in a spray of black blood. Estel stepped up and
plunged his sword into the orc’s chest.
“What are they hiding?” He wondered. That they didn’t
want the humans to get to their camp was obvious. He and the
other two rangers charged the two remaining orcs. The ranger
on his right hissed in pain as an orc knife sliced his arm open,
but it was not a mortal wound and would heal, though it would
require several stitches. The orcs fell swiftly to the ranger’s
blades and Estel and his companions finally entered the orc
camp and saw what it was the orcs had not wanted them to find.
All
the colour drained from Estel’s face. He couldn’t
believe the sight that met his eyes. A limp figure hung from
between the branches of two young trees. He had been badly beaten
and whipped. Blood covered the pale body.
“No.” Estel shook his head in utter denial. “Please
Elbereth no! Elladan!” Forcing back a sob he rushed to
the limp form of his brother. With two swift strokes of his
sword he’d cut the elf down and was cradling him in his
arms.
“Ai, Elladan.” He moaned. “What happened?”
He received no reply though, for the elf was unconscious, his
breathing shallow and his eyes terrifyingly closed. Estel had
long feared that something would befall his brother, knowing
well the dangers of the wilds. Still, he had hoped that his
brother’s age and experience would serve to keep him safe.
Now he felt as if his world was falling apart. The other two
rangers stood slightly behind him, respectfully giving him some
time with his brother. Eventually though, the ranger to his
right laid a hand on his shoulder.
“We cannot stay here. There may be more orcs about and
your brother needs medical attention.” Dumbly, Estel nodded.
He could hardly think, the reality of the situation was too
much. He walked back to the site of the battle, still holding
the limp form in his arms.
Calendil was assisting the other rangers in piling up the orc
carcasses for burning. When Strider walked back holding the
unconscious form of his brother, he rushed up. Horror grew within
him as he recognised the elf. One look at Strider told him that
the man was in no condition to resume command. He led the man
away from the battle site and quickly started a small fire.
“Strider. Listen to me.” He said. He spoke firmly;
trying to break the daze Estel was in. “He needs your
help. You must treat him.” He sighed when he received
no response. “Strider! Do you want him to die?!”
The terrible threat broke through and Estel stared at his friend
in horror.
“Oh Valar! What am I to do?” Calendil gave him a
reassuring smile.
“You know what to do. Elladan trained you himself. So
do it.” Estel looked up, new confidence in his eyes.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Calendil replied and left
to give Estel his privacy.
Estel
quickly boiled the water in his flask. Crumbling some athelas
into the water, he let the healing scent wash over him, soothing
his aching heart and calming his mind for the task ahead.
Ever so gently, he turned his brother over onto his stomach,
revealing the many nasty lash marks. Folding a cloth into a
square he dipped it into the herb-filled water before beginning
to carefully clean the flaming wounds. As he ran the cloth over
a particularly deep gash, a moan came from the prone figure.
“I’m sorry Elladan.” He whispered. “Just
hold on, I’ll be done soon.” Another moan came from
the elf, almost breaking Estel’s heart. “I’m
so sorry, I don’t want to hurt you.” He almost sobbed.
It was killing him to see his brother in so much pain.
When he was at last done cleaning all the back wounds, he shifted
him in his arms so that he could start again on the front of
the elf’s battered torso.
Finally
all the wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, a sleeping draught
had been administered and Estel could at last relax. The wounds
were thankfully not as bad as he had feared, though painful
there was no poison and would heal quickly. Estel suspected
he had not been held captive for very long, Elbereth be praised.
He couldn’t help the dark thoughts that crept into his
mind; he wished he’d known which orc had done the whipping
so he could have made him suffer more before he’d killed
him. He hated orcs as much as Elladan and Elrond; orcs had killed
his birthparents and destroyed what should have been his home.
Only the grace of the Valar and the kindness of the elves had
given him a life worth living.
Calendil
walked up to where Estel sat, has hand resting lightly on this
brother’s chest. “How fares he?” He asked
softly. Strider let out a long breath.
“He is resting now. Thankfully there was no poison and
he will recover.” He looked up at his friend and Calendil
could see traces of tears in the ranger’s eyes.
“Strider?” Estel took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Ever since I was old enough to understand elven grief
and the depth of Elladan’s loss, I have wondered about
his will to live. He said he stayed for his father and later
for me, but I always suspected he still longed for death, even
if he didn’t actively seek it. When I saw him hanging
there – I thought he’d finally given up and gone
to find Elrohir in Mandos’ Halls.” He turned his
gaze to the still form, now thankfully in a healing sleep, “I
couldn’t bear to lose him.” Calendil smiled.
“You won’t. He’s a survivor. Have faith in
him.” Estel ran his hand across the pale cheek.
“I do. The Valar know I do.”
*********************
Three
days had passed since the attack. Two rangers had died in the
battle; they had been buried the day before with as much dignity
as possible given the current location. Estel grieved their
passing, but thanked Iluvatar for sparing his brother. Calendil
had teased him the day before, about the amount of tea he’d
been making.
“He’ll be unconscious for a decade!” He’d
joked. Estel shook his head.
“No, just for a day to two, to let him heal without pain.
He’s suffered too much already.”
Now
though, the wounds had healed for the most part and Estel was
just waiting for the tea to wear off. As soon as he was well
enough to travel, they’d head to Rivendell, where their
father could make sure there were no other side effects from
the beatings, no hidden poisons or dark magic’s.
A
groan alerted him to the fact that his brother was coming round.
Taking the pale hand in his he knelt beside him. “Elladan?
Elladan, its Estel. Can you hear me? It’s time to get
up now!” There was another moan and then eyelashes fluttered
open, revealing blurry grey eyes. Estel smiled. “Welcome
back.”
“Thank you. I think.” Was the slow reply as the
elf attempted to sit. Estel moved forward and supported him.
“Careful. You’ve been though a lot. Valar Elladan,
I was so scared. Don’t ever do that to me again!”
Estel took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean to shout. I was just worried. Get some rest, when you’re
a bit stronger we’ll head home ok?” The comment
was rewarded with a warm smile.
“Yes, I’d like to go home.” Estel grinned.
“Good. I’ll go and get you something to eat!”
He got up, but as he went to move away he was called back.
“There’s just one thing I think you should know
Estel...” He turned.
“Yes?”
“I’m not Elladan.”
END
CHAPTER 3
*Grins*
I’m so evil! Review please! Part four is allllll ready!
;)
