The sound of Elurín hitting the ground was drowned out only by his brother’s cry of rage. Eluréd whirled round, drawing his sword and riding straight at the Men. With rage unlike anything Elladan had ever seen, he attacked, cutting down any who dared approach him. His sword was a silver blur, so fast did it move.

Yet he was still greatly outnumbered and Elladan wondered what he could do without putting Elrohir at risk. Pulling his unconscious brother close to his body, he sent a silent plea to the horse to aid them as he urged the animal forward, towards several of the attackers.

Jaffa heard his plea, moving without hesitation towards the Men and lashing out with her hooves, downing those that got too close to her or her passengers.

Looking over to Eluréd, Elladan let out a cry of alarm as he saw one large Man rush at Eluréd from behind; his sword raised to strike him down. Yet before the man could strike, he let out a howl of pain as a blade sliced through skin and bone, to protrude from his stomach. A moment later, he was dead.

As the Man’s lifeless body slid off the sword to the ground, Elladan saw who had killed him. Elurín, his left arm held at an unnatural angle at his side, but his right hand gripping his blade tightly.

Relief swept through him at the sight. He felt a bond with these unknown Elves and did not want the friendship to end before it had even begun. As Eluréd turned he could see the relief on his face too, sympathising with the older Elf. He knew well how he was feeling at that moment.

There was no time to dwell though, as the battle continued to rage, the Elves heavily outnumbered. As he relied more and more on Jaffa’s hooves to keep the enemy at bay, Elladan grew increasingly worried for all of them. Eluréd was almost out of arrows and one look at Elurín told him that the pain of the Elf’s broken arm was swiftly catching up with him. He would not be able to fight for much longer.

“Elladan!” Eluréd’s call was almost expected and the younger Elf turned instantly. “Follow me!” he cried, turning his horse swiftly and galloping towards his struggling brother.

Cutting down the men that Elurín was trying to get away from, he pulled his twin onto the horse by his good arm and made straight for the forest, through the small gap in the Men he’d noticed just a moment ago.

Tightening his grip on Elrohir, Elladan followed swiftly, glad to leave a battle in which he was essentially helpless.

Eluréd ran through the forest, ignoring the Men giving chase as he wound through almost invisible paths, Elurín holding on to him as firmly as he could. Deeper and deeper they went until the cries of the Men faded into nothing and Eluréd at last slowed.

“I hate running,” he said, looking at Elladan. “But there were too many of them. Unfortunately, we are now miles from where we need to be.”

At this Elladan sighed in resignation; it seemed to him that the Valar were conspiring to make him and Elrohir suffer.

“Do not worry.” The soft voice brought Elladan’s attention to Elurín, leaning heavily against his brother. “He has lasted this long, another hour or two will make little, if any, difference.”

“How do you fare, brother?” Eluréd asked, turning to look at his twin before Elladan could reply. “That arm looks painful.”

“It is rather uncomfortable,” Elurín admitted, with the understatement typical of a warrior. “I too wish to get home as swiftly as possible.”

“Then let us make haste,” Eluréd responded, urging his horse forward. “We have been out too long already; they will be worried.”

He gave no indication as to who ‘they’ were as he rode off again, leaving Elladan to ponder on the statement as they made their way towards the place Eluréd and Elurín called home.

*********************

Elladan was almost asleep by the time the elder twins led him into some of the deepest parts of the forest. He had long since lost track of where they were heading, his only guide the small stream that they seemed to be following.

But when the trees gave way to a large glade, Elladan’s weariness vanished and his eyes opened wide as he took in the scene before him.

The glade was not empty – far from it. At the edge of the trees several huts formed a semi-circle with the doors facing them. In many cases the wood was different colours, showing where repairs had been made over the years.

In front of the huts was a large fire-ring surrounded by seats carved from logs – clearly a gathering area for the people here. There was also evidence of domestic activities outside the huts: a weaving loom, a wooden tub full of washing and a pile of semi-fletched arrows.

Looking to his right, Elladan could see what appeared to be a vegetable plantation, his keen eyes recognising carrots, potatoes and cabbages, amongst others. To his left was a pen containing several cows and sheep, as well as two more horses.

Glancing upwards, Elladan was once again surprised as he saw a talan, almost identical to the ones he had seen in Lothlórien. More surprising, though, was the silver-haired Elf who looked down at them from it.

“He means you no harm,” Eluréd said quickly. “He is the guard when we are away; news of the battle will have reached him by way of the trees and he sent the others to hide.”

Raising his voice, Eluréd called up. “It is well, Anórthad, the battle is over and we have new friends!”

The Elf nodded in reply, leaping lightly from the trees and approaching them.

“How many other Elves live here?” Elladan asked quietly, watching the silver-haired Elf.

“He is one of only two others, besides us,” Eluréd told him, “though there are others besides just Elves here. He and his wife have been here almost as long as we have, though.” Facing Anórthad, he smiled. “We must go the healing hut; Elurín and our new friend Elrohir are both in need of attention.”

As he looked at the Elf, Elladan had to stifle as gasp of surprise as he saw Anórthad’s eyes. The right eye was a clear sky blue, but the left was as green as spring grass. Elladan had never seen such a thing before, had not even known it was possible amongst Elves.

“I will make sure all is ready,” Anórthad said briefly, shooting a look at Elladan and his blanket-wrapped brother before hurrying off.

“What an unusual Elf,” Elladan murmured as he followed Eluréd towards the healing hut.

“He was born with his eyes like that.” Elurín’s gentle voice cut into Elladan’s thoughts, “in Lórien, in the last years of the First Age. It was, and I suspect still is, so unusual for an Elf to have any kind of defect that many others thought him an abomination. He was ridiculed throughout his life and when he took a Noldorin Elf for a wife he was all but cast out. But give him time – he is friendly and kind hearted once you get to know him.”

As he finished speaking they arrived at the hut as the end of the row. Eluréd dismounted before helping his brother down and once Elurín was standing, assisted Elladan with his twin.

“I have made far stranger friends already,” Elladan said as he carried Elrohir inside. “I will try to befriend him also.”

This caused both Eluréd and Elurín to smile, as Eluréd directed Elladan to a bed. As he laid Elrohir on the soft mattress, Anórthad came out from behind a curtain. “I will tend to Elurín first,” he told them, “for he is a better healer than I and once out of pain can direct me in the care of your brother.”

He did not seem surprised that another set of identical twins had wandered into his midst and Elladan wondered just what kind of a place this was.

He watched in silence as Anórthad made a tea for Elurín before setting and splinting the other’s arm. Elurín bore it with good grace, even though there must still have been pain. It would have been better for him to sleep through the procedure but, Elladan realised, he was staying awake so that he could aid Elrohir. Gratitude warmed his heart and he hoped that he would be able to repay their kindness one day.

When Elurín’s arm was set and the glazed look of pain had faded from his eyes, he made his way over to Elrohir. Under his careful instructions Anórthad, with Elladan’s help, bathed Elrohir and treated his wounds before administering a powerful healing tea.

“He is very strong,” Elurín said as Elladan took Elrohir’s hand in his. “Now that he has had the correct treatment I think, in time, he will make a full recovery.”

“Thank you,” whispered Elladan, smiling in gratitude. “I can never thank you enough.”

“You are quite welcome,” Elurín replied, smiling as Eluréd, who had slipped out earlier, re-entered the hut. “Though I am most curious as to what you were doing out there alone!”

“I have many questions of my own,” Elladan returned, gratefully accepting the broth that Eluréd pushed into his hands. “What is this place and who are the ‘others’ that you speak of?”

“Very well, we will go first!” Eluréd laughed, grinning as he saw bemusement on Elladan's face at the voices starting outside. Now that the danger had passed, the people of the settlement were coming out of hiding.

Moving to sit beside Elurín, Eluréd pulled his brother into his arms, kissing him softly before starting his tale.

“First know that I am the elder, though only by a few minutes. We have lived in this place ever since our home was destroyed millennia ago.”

“Your home?” Elladan queried, frowning slightly.

“Aye,” Eluréd replied, “the once great city of Doriath.”

Doriath. It was if the missing piece of the puzzle had been contained within that one word. All of a sudden his history lessons, taught by Erestor in his small study, came back to him in a rush and he suddenly knew exactly who it was sitting before him.

“Ai, Valar,” he whispered, wondering how he was ever going to explain to them that they had more in common than they realised – they were family.

END CHAPTER 7