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Chapter Text

One sunny day

Chapter 1

-o0o-

Greetings nin mellon,

long has it been since we last saw each other and I long to meet you again, my friend. Alas much has changed in the time that has passed and we will have much to discuss when next we see each other. News came from Dale not two weeks past that ravens have been spotted returning to Erebor. In my opinion it is too early to say, if that is a sign of things changing, but only time will tell.

I had to increase the number of warriors guarding my realm, as the darkness upon the Greenwood is ever growing. The number of spiders has increased dramatically. When in years gone by, we only encountered the spiders every other month, now not one hunting party returns without an encounter with these foul beasts. Reports have also reached me that the shadow of the Hill of Dark Sorcery is growing steadily and that more and more orcs cross the Anduin to convene in southern Mirkwood.

Before long we will have to face this shadow!

However rumors will never sway the white council and I have therefore sent scouting parties to the south. On one of these expeditions to discover the truth about Dol Guldur, Legolas was injured. He took a spider stinger to his back. My healers have assured me that with enough rest he will make a full recovery in time. Nevertheless, I would not mind your opinion on his progress. More importantly, I require your help with the part concerning that he rest. You know my son and how hard it is to keep him out of trouble. As you are burdened with two of these mischief makers, you will understand my problem. So far all I could think of to prevent Legolas joining the next expedition to Dol Guldur, was to send him to deliver this letter to you in Imladris. Please my friend, keep him with you for as long as you can and make sure he heeds the healers' advice to rest.

I thank you in advance and you can expect another letter from me soon that will update you on the proceedings in Mirkwood.

Namárië, Thranduil

-.-.-.-.-

Elrond frowned as he finished reading the letter that Thranduil had sent him and glanced at the rather sullen looking messenger sitting in front of his desk. He could not see any obvious injuries to the younger elf, but Legolas certainly lacked his usual enthusiasm and he did look rather pale. No doubt he knew why he had been made to deliver this letter and was not too happy about being side-lined by his father.

Elrond fully intended to fulfill Thranduil's wish and examine the young prince, but perhaps doing so right now would not be wise. Legolas had only just arrived and perhaps should be allowed to rest after the long journey. On the other hand this visit was a bit of a surprise and, convinced the rumor mill would work at its usual speed, the Lord of Imladris knew he had only a short time to speak to Legolas before at least one of his sons would show up, making it that much harder to get Legolas into the healing wing. Trying to hide his smile, he thought that at least his sons would be able to cheer Legolas up in no time.

"Thank you for delivering this letter so swiftly, Legolas."

The younger elf looked up and his shoulders slumped slightly. "My father told me how important this letter was. I do as he commands me."

"But you are not happy with your given task," Elrond stated.

"Anyone could have delivered this letter. There are more important tasks waiting for me in Mir… in the Greenwood," Legolas replied.

"Your father has many skilled elves at his disposal. Do you not trust your warriors to scout for you?"

"Of course, I trust my elves. I would just prefer to be with them as they face danger." Legolas answered sullenly.

"I understand your feelings, my prince. Alas, I also understand your father's need to be assured of your wellbeing."

"He is treating me like an elfling!" Legolas exclaimed in frustration.

Elrond smiled at the young prince kindly: "As Lord of Imladris and as father of twins with an uncanny ability to find danger, I can assure you that I would have done the same as your father with any elf that was recently injured. Be it one of my sons or not."

Legolas sighed again and looked away from Elrond's kind gaze." My injuries are not that bad."

"How about you let me be the judge of that?"

The look on Legolas' face said how very much he would prefer not to, but he was too well raised and polite to voice his thoughts. What was more, he respected the Lord of Imladris too much to refuse him. Elrond rather enjoyed the novelty, his own sons could stand to learn some of the elven prince's manners.

He stood up and walked around his desk: "Come, my prince, we will go to the healing wing together and I will do this as quickly as I can."

Legolas rose to follow him and as they left his office, Elrond added: "And then you can go gallivanting off with my sons"

-o0o-

Elrond peeled back the bandages gently, slowly revealing the reddened skin beneath. The prince had kept the bandages clean and changed them regularly at least, which made his task that much easier.

When the last of the bandages came off, Legolas' wound was revealed in full. It was not pretty.

Instead of the normal, clean puncture wound left behind by a spider attack, this one was torn, the beast's stinger shredding through flesh and muscle as it tried to impale a struggling adversary. And while it was reassuring to know that Legolas had fought back, had averted a deeper, potentially fatal injury, the damage done was still extensive. A deep, uneven tear ran from the prince's middle back, all the way up to the right shoulder blade, and Elrond did not doubt that when it was fresh it had bared the white of bone at its bottom.

It looked better now, the edges mostly closed, only red streaks a reminder of how large it had once been. And even in the middle of the wound its edges were almost touching, as they agonizingly slowly knit themselves back together.

It was a long ride from Greenwood to Rivendell, a week with a fast horse and fair weather at the least, and Thranduil would not have let Legolas depart before being in a condition to make that trip – days, possibly weeks after sustaining the injury. The prince must have gone near crazy with the slow healing process. No wonder Thranduil had sent Legolas on this errand, the healers of Mirkwood had more than likely begged him to.

As a father of four children that were both difficult to keep from trouble and insufferable when confined to the Healing Halls, Elrond could sympathize with the King of Greenwood. And, he had to admit, Thranduil's solution was both elegant and ingenious. He had removed Legolas from further danger in his ever darkening forest for a while, while also giving the prince something of import to do.

Elrond only hoped that the tranquility and the peace of the Hidden Valley would hasten Legolas' convalescence and would lighten the young elf's spirit, so heavily burdened with the darkness encroaching on his home.

He placed a hand gently just above the rough wound, not touching but reaching out with his healing senses to grasp the essence of the flesh beneath, sending out energy to encourage the skin to knit back together, speeding up the process as much as it was possible. The response was sluggish, the poison, though removed from the wound, lingered in the tissue. It still dampened the flow of Legolas' fëa through the damaged area, limiting both his innate healing as well as any healer's attempts to aid the process.

"The poison of the Gêl Ungôlim is persistent, but a few more days of rest will be all that is required." He tried to sound reassuring, but the tension in Legolas's shoulders told him of the young elf's frustration. He had probably heard "a few more days" one too many times – and just as Elrond's own sons, he had not mastered the patience to wait for what should be no more than the blinkb of an eye to the everlasting life of an elf. Oh, but for the darkness of this time, where old forces rose once more and darkness multiplied, forcing vigilance and haste on those of the firstborn that would still fight the enemy.

Elrond resisted the urge to sigh, but Legolas must have picked up on his mood and found himself responsible. "Thank you, Lord Elrond," he said formally, as if in apology for his reticent silence, and added "I will rest in the guest rooms, if you allow".

Elrond waved him off, a smile tugging at his lips. For all the similarities Legolas shared with his twin sons it was always nice to see that at least the Prince of the Woodland realm could still be cowed into obeying his medical counsel. "As long as you refrain from anything strenuous you are free to roam the valley as you please. And make sure you tell Elladan and Elrohir that I will hold them personally accountable for any damage to your healing wound." He said the last part loud enough that it would drift to the corridor, where he knew Elladan to be waiting for Legolas' "release".

"Rest and let your heart be lightened, Legolas, you know you are always a welcome guest in this house."

-o0o-

"Well met, son of Thranduil." Elladan intoned when Legolas left the healing wing. The older twin sketched a bow that was as shallow as it was insincere. "You have grown, elfling."

Legolas fought the urge to roll his eyes, the greeting and false formality a long-standing joke that had lost its appeal many yen ago. But two could play at this game and Legolas was not one to be outdone. He scanned the hall and, invoking his best imitation of his father's haughty scorn, replied: "Is it you only? The hospitality of your father's house must have lessened that he would send me such a poor excuse for a welcome committee."

Elladan laughed, conceding a point, and Legolas realized that, however wearying, the easy banter had lost none of its welcome familiarity. There was something about Imladris that lifted the spirit and healed the mind - and however unlikely it seemed, it included the questionable humor of Elrond's twin sons. The way they so effortlessly included him, treated him like a wayward brother that visited too rarely, was a gift that he had cherished since he had been the elfling they still occasionally called him.

Still, he had hoped to see their young human brother again, and Elrohir's absence was suspicious.

Elladan must have read his thoughts from his face. "We were not sure as to the extent of your injuries and thought it best to keep the rambunctious bundle of energy that we call Estel away until you had father's leave." His gray eyes pierced Legolas' own and Legolas had no illusion that he was not just assessed again, every hint of lingering pain and stiffness in his stance weighed. Elrond's sons were skilled healers in their own right, and in Elladan the knowledge of injuries and ailments was paired with an overwhelming protective streak. A combination that especially Elrohir lamented more often than not, but also Legolas had had the questionable honor of being the target of the older twin's "fussing".

He hastened to reassure Elladan. "I am all but healed, certainly beyond the damage a nine year-old's exuberant embrace could cause."

"His hugs have grown stronger since last you visited us," Elladan said, laughing and rubbing his side as if in remembered pain, "but come! Let us test your bold claim." He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Legolas' shoulder, steering him into the direction of the kitchen. "Elrohir is keeping him entertained in the kitchen. He would do anything for honey cakes."

Legolas turned, a smile on his lips as he asked: "Who would? Elrohir or Estel?"

Elladan laughed again, loud and clear, before he answered with a wink: "Exactly."

-o0o-

Estel was in the kitchens, enjoying one of his favorite pastimes - apart from doing archery of course, or horse riding or going on adventures - well one of his favorite pastimes indoors: making and most importantly eating honey cakes. Since he had become one of the main consumers of the golden delicacies in the household, the cook had insisted that he must learn how to make them. At first he had been unsure, but for the last year he had quite enjoyed spending time in the kitchen and helping to make the sweet treat. The benefit of making honey cakes, he had found, was that you were the first who got to taste them!

And that was precisely what Estel was waiting for now. Elrohir had helped him make a fresh batch of honey cakes, because they had a surprise guest. Legolas had arrived with a letter to Elrond. Estel had wanted to drop everything and run to see Legolas, but the twins had stopped him and said that Legolas was most likely speaking to Elrond right now and Estel was "not a small child anymore that would run into the meeting and interrupt them". They were right of course. He was nine already! He could wait and show Legolas just how grown-up he already was by making the best ever honey cake for him. And while he and Elrohir had started on the cakes, Elladan had gone to get Legolas as soon as he was done with their adar to bring him to the kitchen.

Only a few more minutes until the cakes would be done and he could sample one - as any good cook would. He was giddily waiting in front of the oven, when he became aware of someone standing behind him. He quickly turned around and screamed: "Legolas" before abandoning his post at the oven and launching himself at his friend.

He hugged his friend for all he was worth; it had been way too long since Legolas had last visited. When he opened his eyes and looked at the twins behind Legolas, he fleetingly saw a look of worry on their faces, but before he could ask anything about it, Legolas put him down and said: "Hello tithen pen, it is good to see you again. I think you have grown a whole head since last I saw you."

Beaming with pride, Estel promptly forgot what he was about to ask and grinned up at his friend: "I'm happy you have returned Legolas. Have you had many adventures since your last visit? Can you tell me new stories? Did you do any fighting? And …"

"Slow down, Estel," Elladan interrupted him, "Legolas has only just arrived and it has been a long journey. Let him settle and leave some questions for later." His brother chided not unkindly.

Looking bashfully at the floor, Estel was saved from answering by Elrohir: "Besides, were you not planning to give something to Legolas? I think they are done."

"The cakes!" Estel exclaimed. In his excitement to see his friend, he had forgotten that he was supposed to watch the honey cakes. Thankfully his big brother had taken over the watch.

Luckily no cake had been burned yet and with the help of his brothers, the four were soon sitting around the kitchen table and Estel was able to give Legolas his cake: "This is the best honey cake I have ever made," Estel explained, "I have especially picked it for you because Ro told me to select the best for you."

After taking a first bite, Legolas smiled at his little friend: "This is definitely the best honey cake I have ever tasted. Thank you Estel."

His own mouth full of honey cake, Estel grinned. Right now he couldn't be happier.

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

-o0o-

"It takes long years of training, but true mastery will come when you can see beyond the tip of your arrow and when you feel your surroundings before making each shot," Legolas explained with unfailing patience, another answer for the long list of questions Estel had been asking all evening. He sank deeper into the pillows behind him, looking at Estel for the next question that was sure to come.

Behind the young boy, the fire in the hearth burned merrily, spending warmth on a gentle spring evening. The chill of winter still clung to the peaks of the Misty Mountains and occasionally carried down into the valley, alongside the smell of clear ice-water and the first of the flowers on the mountain meadows.

Unlike his brothers and his guest, Estel was not lulled by the gentle warmth of the dancing flames. His eyes were still burning with overbrimming curiosity beneath his dark locks. "Yes, but why?", he demanded, "Why are Greenwood archers so much better than the ones of Imladris?"

"Hey!" Twin voices of protest rose from the sofa on the other side of the room as, predictably, his brothers rose to defend the honor of their home. They practically sputtered with indignation at the offense.

"Whatever gave you the idea that their archers outclassed ours?" Elladan demanded of Estel.

Estel withered under the accusing glare of both his brothers, suddenly feeling small. "Glorfindel said…"

He did not get further, interrupted by Elrohir's groan as the younger twin sank back into the pillows. "He planned for this", he exclaimed, "he is meddling again."

"Meddling? Who? Glorfindel? Why?" Estel, his brief hesitance forgotten, awoke to new life as if he had been presented with the tastiest of treats. Questions poured from his mouth faster than the Bruinen rushed through her banks.

It was Legolas who answered. "Glorfindel likes to arrange for archery contests whenever I find myself in Rivendell."

"He says it 'sharpens our skill'", Elrohir added.

"It certainly teaches you to get acquainted with the bitter feeling of defeat," Legolas quipped and Elrohir just groaned again, even as Elladan rose to the bait.

"Your luck will not hold forever, elfling. Let us give Glorfindel what he wants and teach you the humbling meaning of defeat."

Estel's eyes were aglow as he looked from Legolas to Elladan and back. This was too exciting! A true archery contest! If Glorfindel had indeed meant for him to cause this then he was a very happy helper. Yet, before either Elladan or Legolas could grab a bow to settle matters right here right now, Elrohir interrupted them, spoiling his fun.

"Legolas is a guest in this house," he said to his twin, and something about the way he stressed the word made Elladan pause. Not for the first time in his life in Rivendell Estel thought that his brothers were communicating in a secret way that went beyond mere words. There was something that they did not intend for him to hear, but whatever Elrohir's meaning had been, it had effectively stopped the building excitement.

Estel tried to keep his own disappointment off his face - and probably failed.

Elrohir must have caught it, for he turned to him next and with a wink said: "Also I am sure Elladan does not need a repetition of the last time he lost to Legolas." Lowering his voice conspiratorially he elaborated: "Glorfindel made him refletch every arrow in the armory, because he blamed them for his loss."

Elladan winced at the reminder, but was quick to add to Estel's amusement. "Yes, but he made you," he said to Elrohir, "sleep in a tree for a fortnight when you could not best Legolas in climbing."

Estel giggled and Legolas laughed. "Hathellas could learn from Glorfindel's ingenuity. All I ever have to do is extra training hours – and muck out the stables."

"Glorfindel once punished Elrohir by not letting him help with the horses", Elladan said and Estel gasped.

"Me, too!" he exclaimed, ecstatic to have something to add to the discussion. "Glorfy told me I couldn't give carrots to Rochdithen once. That was so mean!" He turned to Legolas, his silver eyes wide and sincere, "Rochdithen is family! He helped me find Dan and Ro when they were missing." A sudden thought occurred to him. "You have to come see him, Legolas! He's grown even more! We could go riding, he's just as fast as the big horses! We could have a race!"

Legolas raised his arms and laughed at the bombardment of information and suggestions, but to Estel's delight he did not say no as so many of the older elves often did.

"I would be delighted to see Rochdithen again. And we shall go riding…"

"But not tomorrow." Elrohir suddenly interrupted and Estel turned to look at him, startled. "Tomorrow Ada is giving a feast in the Hall of Fire in Legolas' honor."

Estel opened his mouth to speak but before he could Elladan interrupted once more, "And the day after we meant to show Legolas the library. Perhaps you could guide him to the most exciting tales?"

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Estel mustered his older brothers. This pre-planned timetable was not like them, and again he had the feeling that there was something that they left unsaid.

Legolas' voice broke through his ponderings: "If your taste in tales of adventure is as good as that for honey cakes then I shall not want for a better guide in your father's library."

The words were enough to placate Estel and he nodded eagerly, already launching into a list of books and stories that Legolas must read. His brothers were always weird anyway, but being the perfect host to Legolas, that was what truly mattered.

-o0o-

It was four days later and although it had been four very good days that Estel got to spend with his family and his best friend, he still felt like something was missing.

After the feast in Legolas' honor on the first day, he, the twins and Legolas had spent two days exploring Rivendell's library. They had only planned for one day in the library exploring the most exciting tales, but the twins and Legolas were inspired by the stories and told Estel one adventurous tale after the other.

Especially the twins had suddenly told stories that Estel had never heard before. They were a bit more gruesome than what they usually shared, and Estel realized that his brothers had been holding out on him. Clearly they thought he had been too young for the stories before and now they had finally realized that he wasn't a small child anymore. Or perhaps it was Legolas' influence. Either way, he had spent two days enjoying their stories, listening enraptured as they tried to outdo each other in their tales of bravery and adventure. It had been perfect. Not that this had stopped him from asking about the trip Legolas had promised him on his first evening in Rivendell. He had asked everyone about it every day, but he never got an answer.

Estel had hoped it would be today, but alas Erestor had insisted on Estel taking his lessons today, after letting Estel skip them for the last three days to spend time with their guest, and Glorfindel had insisted on the twins attending this day's training sessions. Therefore, Estel had had to spend most of the day without seeing Legolas or the twins. Now the day was almost over and he still hadn't gotten the answer he wanted about the trip.

Surely nothing could come between them and the horse riding trip tomorrow. Estel rushed into the dining hall after finishing his lessons and sat down at dinner, squeezing between Legolas and Elladan. He immediately started eating and looked at Elrohir, who sat across from him - the easiest target.

With his mouth full, he asked: "So can we go on a trip tomorrow?" He put on his most hopeful look. His adar and the twins usually said yes, when he looked at them like that.

He saw Elrohir glance at the others trying to hide a grin, but Estel waited and kept looking at the younger of his brothers, pleading with his eyes. After what felt like forever, he finally got the answer he had hoped for.

"Yes, Estel. Tomorrow we will go out riding with Legolas," Elrohir relented.

A huge smile blossomed on Estel's face and he turned to Legolas: "Did you hear that?" he asked excitedly, "Tomorrow we'll go riding and you can see how fast Rochdithen is. Maybe he is even as fast as your horse? We have to have a race and …"

But before he could say anymore, Elladan chimed in: "… and I know the perfect spot for our little trip."

Estel looked at his older brother questioningly and Elladan explained: "There is a pool at the Eastern end of Rivendell's valley, fed by a waterfall with crystal water that is warmed by the sun. We have told you about it before, Legolas. It is a great place for swimming. "

Legolas nodded to indicate that he remembered. Estel knew the place, he had been there a few times. It was beautiful. It would be perfect.

"The trip there will only take one to two hours and if we leave right after lunch, we can be back before nightfall." Elladan added.

"Why can't we leave before lunch?" Estel asked innocently. The longer the trip the better. "We could have a picnic on the rocks by the water."

The twins looked like they wanted to argue, but Legolas smiled and agreed: "That is an excellent idea, Estel!"

They all looked to Elrond, who until now had been listening to the conversation. After a few moments of silence, in which his father seemed to be looking Legolas over, he nodded.

"Yippee!"

Estel was about to jump up to run into the kitchen and talk to the cook about the picnic right away, when Elrond fixed him with a stern gaze. "Finish your dinner now, Estel."

"Yes, adar." Sitting back down, Estel went back to eating. It didn't matter, he could talk to the cook after dinner and then to the stable hands. He had to organize some extra treats for Rochdithen. And find his favorite outdoor blanket. The trip was going to be the most amazing adventure. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

-o0o-

The sun was high in the sky, warming the valley floor and catching on the open blossoms of daffodils as they greedily drank up the light. There was not a cloud in the sky overhead and nothing seemed able to quench the perfection of this day.

Nor indeed the high spirits of his young brother. Estel ran back and forth between the stables and the yard, gathering blankets, bags, apples for Rochdithen and their horses, and who knew what else. Elrohir had no doubt that Estel's pockets were filled to the brim with hidden treats for his beloved pony.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Estel ran over, stuck a hand into one of the pockets and produced a morsel of sugar. "There you go, Rochdithen. Are you ready to go?" He turned to Elrohir and repeated the question. "Are we ready to go?"

"Aye, tithen pen," Elrohir chuckled at Estel's enthusiasm, his brother's high spirits never failed to bring joy into his own heart. He tugged at Rochdithen's saddle strap once more and tied the leather in place, tapping the pony's flanks reassuringly. "Rochdithen is ready for our ride."

He watched as Estel swang himself up and into the saddle, effectively guiding the pony over into the yard where Legolas and Elladan were already waiting on their own horses, their saddle bags filled with what they would need for their picnic at the fairy pools. Lightly springing on his own horse's, Tàlagor's, back, Elrohir joined his brothers and friend and together they set out over the lonely bridge and to the east, their path rising slowly towards the higher plateaus before the Misty Mountains.

The song of birds was their constant companion, mingling with the beating of their horses' hooves on the dry ground of the path and the rushing of the valley's many waterfalls that filled the valley with an everlasting twinkle of music. Elladan was singing one of the traveling songs that they had learned in Lorien, weaving the soft melody with the sounds of nature into a harmonious praise of Yavanna, giver of fruits.

Elrohir raised his face into the sun, drinking up the warmth and enjoying the peaceful tranquility that could nowadays only be found in the very heart of Imladris. Outside their borders darkness prowled and the whisper of evil things grew, but here peace prevailed and the spring sun and his brothers' presence lightened his heart. Opening his eyes again, he looked at Legolas, hoping that their home could weave the same magic for the younger elf.

What he saw was even better. Legolas did likely not even notice the serenity of their surroundings and the beauty of the mountains before them, for a stronger magic was spun around him – that of Estel's irresistible charm. He caught only fragments of their conversation but Estel's eyes were shining with delight at whatever grand story he was telling, and his elated laughter at Legolas' reply carried back to him and Elladan, making the beauty of the birds' song pale in comparison.

Ahead of them the path leveled out as they reached the plateaus and wide swaths of meadows dotted with the pale white and purple of mountain flowers in bloom stretching on either side.

"Now!" he heard Estel shout, barely able to add "Noro lim, Rochdithen!" amid his excited giggles. The pony understood regardless and with a speed that would surprise those not familiar with Estel's small mount jumped forward. Legolas' horse was a fraction of a second later, its larger size slower to be urged to great speed and Estel gained a sizable lead before Legolas could catch up to him. Peals of laughter drifted from the path up ahead and the pure joy of it was infectious.

Elrohir turned to Elladan with a smirk and saw the same expression mirrored on his twin's face. They both urged their horses forward at the same time, the wind and grass rushing past as they galloped after their retreating brother and friend, the rush of excitement of the race mingling with the bliss of this perfect sunny day.

-o0o-

They ate their lunch on a field of green, beside the soft gurgling of a small tributary of the Bruinen that rushed and tumbled over stones and small waterfalls on its way into the valley. Just south of their picnic spot the river fell over a sudden but short drop, down a black-stoned cliff face into a pool of crystal blue. Round pebbles, washed over many yen in the rapids of the stream, lined the shore, their wet surface glistening in the high sun. Elladan closed his eyes, soaking up the rays of Arnor that struck his skin. It was unseasonably warm.

"Let's go!" Estel exclaimed. He had clearly decided their after-lunch rest had taken long enough and was already taking off his tunic and riding pants. There was no stopping him and long before he or the others could match him Estel giggled and dashed forward – straight over the edge of the small cliff.

Legolas gasped, but Elladan reassured him even as they walked up to the cliff to look down at Estel's antics. "It is but a short drop and the pool is deep and calm enough for the jump." He lowered his voice before adding, "We would never have chosen this place for our picnic otherwise – Elrohir frets."

There was a sudden sharp push against his side and the disconcerting feeling of losing the solid ground beneath his feet as the water suddenly rushed up to meet him. When he came up to the surface of the pool, spluttering, Legolas was still standing on the top of the cliff, a grinning Elrohir beside him. "Well, I have to care for at least one of my brothers," his traitorous twin called down.

Before Elladan could respond, he was splashed by a wave of clear water as his other brother turned on him as well.

"Dan!" Water dripped from Estel's lips as he spoke while swimming. "You looked funny!" But his gleeful expression quickly turned to dread as Elladan lunged for him, trying to grasp his feverishly kicking legs when Estel turned, desperate to get away. His foot slipped out of Elladan's grasp by a fraction of a second and Elladan roared as he rushed after Estel, whose answering squeak was tinged with his usual giggles.

Two more splashes announced the arrival of Elrohir and Legolas who foolishly tried to stop him from going after Estel. Elladan was only too happy to shift his target back to the prime offender and rounded on Elrohir even as Estel, bolstered by Legolas' support, swam back over to try and splash more of the pool's water over his face.

Their water battle seemed to last for hours, so weary was he when Estel finally, between wheezes, admitted defeat. Of course, his littlest brother called it "being hungry" but Elladan knew he had won. Elrohir, having begged for pardon already a good while ago, was drifting on his back in the middle of the pool, soaking up the sun with all the grace of a water-logged cat.

Water splashed as Estel reached the shallow end of the pool from where he could track back up, along a more gently sloping path, to their picnic spot. Legolas was but a few paces behind him, but before either of them could make it out of the water the very air turned into a cacophony of sound. The nervous prancing of hooves mingled with the terrified whinnies of their horses, but it was all drowned out by a deep rumbling that rose to an ear splitting crescendo in seconds just before the world disappeared.

For the second time this day, Elladan experienced the bewildering feeling of weightlessness that accompanied a fall, even as his mind reeled to make sense of the sudden blackness that surrounded him. Water rushed alongside him, ever deeper into the dark void that seemed to have opened up below them, reaching up from some unknown abyss to swallow them whole, pool and all. Somewhere in the tumble and the darkness he thought he heard Elrohir calling his name, but then he crashed into the bottom of this pit of nightmares and knew no more.

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

-o0o-

Legolas was still trying to make sense of what had happened. One moment they had been enjoying the sunny day and the fun in the pool and the next minute the entire world had collapsed around them. He had been following Estel to the shallow end of the water, when suddenly the ground beneath their feet had given way and Estel had shrieked in fear. Only Legolas' quick warrior reflexes honed over hundreds of years, had let him jump forward and grab his little human friend.

As the darkness surrounded them, they suddenly splashed into a deep body of water. An underground river, he thought, given the strong current that pulled them along instantly, ever deeper underground. The noise of the water was deafening and he struggled to orient himself. Legolas did not know which way was up or where to go, what to do. All he knew was that he had Estel in his arms and that he must not let go. He held Estel as tightly as he could, all the time trying to keep his and Estel's heads above the hurling waters. The current smashed them against the rocks lining the river's edge, over and over again, while he tried, desperately, to keep them afloat.

Legolas turned his back towards the rocks that lined the water as they tumbled along, trying to shield Estel from serious injuries. Normally that might not have been a problem and would have left him with little more than bruises, but, as he was reminded with vengeance, his back was still injured.

And now, as he smashed into another rock with tooth shaking force, he felt the wound on his back split open. The pain was sharp, an intense searing pain and Legolas almost lost hold of his precious cargo. Only sheer determination and protectiveness helped him cling to Estel.

Still, it had been a close call and the river was still raging. Legolas did not know how long he could keep this up. If they did not get out of this torrent soon, he was sure he would lose consciousness and then both he and Estel were doomed. No, he had to hold on. For Estel's sake. They had to get out of here.

-o0o-

The river was a raging maelstrom, a violent flurry of sharp rocks and ice-cold water straight from the mountain springs. In seconds it had torn Elrohir from the place he had fallen, dragged him along until the last glimmer of the collapsed ceiling, of the outside world, was but a faint glow, a hint of a direction.

He crashed into another boulder, his shoulder jarring at the impact but the stop was brief. Already the water was dragging him along again, trying to drag him under the heaving, whirling waves. Always forward without remorse, without respite. Everything was water and darkness.

Except, suddenly in the dark gloom of the cave he thought he caught a glimpse of gold and almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Legolas - and he had a hold of Estel! The wood elf would not let any harm befall his brother. The thought was as comforting as it was brief before another sharp current dragged him under the icy waters once more. The light disappeared and amid the torrent, the tremendous forces that tossed his body this way and that, he soon lost the feeling for which way was up. He struggled against the current, tried to hold on to something, to anything, but his air supply was rapidly dwindling. Bright spots lined the corners of his vision.

Another sudden jerk tore him downwards and he collided with the bottom of the river, small stones grinding against his side and face but finally, finally, he had found something solid. With his last strength he scrambled to twist and turn around, to lever his feet against the riverbed and, kicking off from the rubble, he finally managed to break the surface of the river above. He gulped a sweet breath of air, and another before trying to coax his burning muscles to cooperate. They screamed with the effort of withstanding the force of the raging river, of being but a plaything to the mischievous games of the Ainur.

But one of the gods must have felt compassion for him at last, for even as he was flailing blindly in the dark, trying to swim for a shore he could not see, his hand collided with something soft. A jolt of recognition rushed through him, followed by a surge of blind panic. Elladan!

Elladan was not moving.

-o0o-

After what felt like ages, Legolas finally felt ground beneath his feet. He was not entirely sure how he had done it, but somehow he and Estel had managed to reach what felt like a shallow spot on the shore of the river. The water here was less wild, less destructive, and with a last push of strength, Legolas heaved Estel and himself out of the water.

Legolas felt around in the darkness and made sure they were on solid ground. He hoisted them both further from the water's edge, until they were in no danger of being swept away by the river again. Only then did Legolas finally loosen his tight grip on his little friend and tried to check the little boy over.

"Estel, are you hurt?" he asked

He heard a quiet "No" in the darkness in front of him and sagged in relief. At least he had managed to protect Estel. That was what mattered. Even if he did not know where they were or what had happened, at least they were both alright.

Legolas winced as the wound on his back burned and a numbness spread up his neck and into his head, already threatening to muddle his thoughts. Well, maybe he was not entirely alright, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Let us rest for a moment, Estel," he suggested and all but collapsed next to the human child. He took Estel's silence as affirmation but even if he would have felt the urge to withstand the need for sleep, the darkness pulled him under.

-o0o-

Light.

His eyes burned at the hateful glare of the world above that had suddenly found a way into his dark domain. Down here he was king, and he would not tolerate this insurgence of sunlight into his realm - nor the presence of trespassers.

His sharp ears caught the sound of struggle, of splashes in the water. Something larger than fish had found its way into the river, something tastier. He licked his rough, blackened lips and reconsidered. A new opening to the outside world was not only an inconvenience - but also an opportunity. Eventually the sun would sink and then the world above would be his.

He turned and trotted down the tunnel to prepare his orcs. At sunset they would rule, and before that they would feast.

They had fish to catch.

-o0o-

Legolas was not sure how much time had passed when he awoke in total darkness. At first he was disoriented, unsure of where he was, but then he felt a small body shiver against his side and remembered what had happened. Estel! The small boy was shaking violently, so much so that it had woken Legolas from his stupor.

He instinctively put his arms around Estel to warm him and was shocked to feel how cold his friend was. Remembering something about how dangerous the cold could be for humans, he started shaking Estel in turn. "Estel, wake up! Estel."

"Adar?" A faint relief spread through Legolas at the innocent question. Estel was okay for now, but they definitely could not stay here much longer. As an elf Legolas was not as susceptible to the cold as his friend, but the wound on his back was still bleeding and he had sustained bruises and cuts all over his body. A shiver shook him and he winced.

Truth be told, his wound reopening and so freely bleeding worried Legolas. It would slow him down and limit his ability to get out of here - or to protect Estel. But there was nothing he could do about the wound at the moment. He could not even reach it on his own - and he certainly could not ask Estel for help. They had hidden his injuries from Estel too well and now, alone in the darkness, was hardly the right time to tell the boy about them. Plus he had no equipment anyway. They needed to get out of here and find their horses and provisions.

"No Estel, it is Legolas, remember?" he answered the boy's question soothingly, gently stroking the boy's back. He tried giving him as much of his own body heat as possible, but so far it did not seem to do much good. Estel's teeth clattered with the strength of his shivers.

"Legolas? What happened? Where are we?"

"I do not know. We were caught in some kind of cave-in and are underground." Legolas looked around but the darkness that surrounded them was near complete and he had no further information to offer.

"Where are Dan and Ro?"

Legolas winced again, this time not from physical pain. He had tried not to think about the twins and what might have happened to them, but of course their little brother would inquire after them.

"I do not know what happened to them, Estel. I am sorry", he answered truthfully. "They were deeper in the pool, so they most likely were caught in the cave-in as well." There really was no point in lying to the little boy.

"We have to find them!" Despite the shivers that racked him, Estel sounded determined.

"We cannot, Estel."

"But we can't leave them behind!" Estel all but shouted accusingly, finally rousing from his quivering mumble. If nothing else his burst of anger seemed to warm him up a bit. It broke Legolas' heart to have to disappoint the boy.

"Estel, "Legolas tried to reason with his friend, "we do not even know where we are. How can we look for them, when we are lost? Besides, we do not know for sure that anything happened to them. They are likely alright and looking for us already."

Estel remained quiet. Legolas knew the boy was not convinced yet, at least as worried for the twins as he was himself. But for the moment Estel did not argue further. When the silence stretched, Legolas continued: "You know that they can look after themselves. They would do anything to keep each other safe. Just like you and I will," Legolas promised.

"What are we going to do, Legolas?" he heard Estel ask, acceptance of their bleak reality now swinging in his words, subduing his spirit once more.

Legolas' heart went out to him and he tried to muster what positivity he could. "We are going to try and get out of here. We will have to be careful, but I am sure we can find our way back along the river to the waterfall if we work together."

Estel remained quiet as if doubting his words, so Legolas played his trump card: "I will need your help if we are to succeed, Estel."

Legolas felt Estel's little arms grab him back and hold onto him. A little dip of his head, indicated Estel's approval. "We'll do it together," Estel promised.

And together they moved.

-o0o-

Elrohir's arms burned with the effort of keeping himself and Elladan's limp body above the swirling waters, of ever trying to steer them somehow towards the shore. But finally, blessedly, his hand struck gravel at the end of another stroke. The pull of the river lessened as he reached shallower water and soon he could get his feet on the ground and use that leverage to pull his own aching body and Elladan ashore.

For a moment Elrohir allowed himself to collapse next to his twin, to gasp air into his burning lungs without risk of swallowing a mouthful of water instead. His hand never left Elladan's shoulder. He needed the physical connection to bolster their bond, needed to feel the warmth of his brother's skin to confirm what his awareness of his brother's fëa already told him: Elladan was alive.

Warmth slowly returned to his body that had been numbed by the cold of the underground river, bringing with it the sting and pain of a myriad of scratches and forming bruises. Their ride in the river had not been gentle.

Fresh concern for Elladan made him roll over and force his stiff body to cooperate. His brother was still unresponsive and Elrohir needed to find out why. What had happened to his twin?

At least Elladan's breathing was even, which was a small respite, and Elrohir thanked the Valar for the fraction of mercy. Still, his twin looked ghostly pale in the darkness. The faint glow of their own bodies was his only light source and it gave his brother an almost otherworldly sheen, as if he had left his physical body behind already. Banning that thought from his mind at once, Elrohir set to work. He let the cold rationality of his healer's training take over, focusing on finding and assessing possible injuries, trying to ignore who it was that was injured.

With practiced moves and despite the cold numbness of his fingers he found the reason for Elladan's unconsciousness almost immediately. A small gash on the back of Elladan's head meant he had probably hit his head on one of the rocks that had dotted the turbulent river. The wound was bleeding sluggishly now that it was out of the river, but the cold water had probably prevented excessive blood loss. It would be best to keep it that way.

Struggling out of his shirt, he tore the cold, wet fabric into something vaguely resembling very soaked bandages. He sighed as he wrung the excess water from the strips; This was far from ideal. But it was the best he could do under the circumstances and Elladan's head wound was continuing to bleed; it would need to be bound.

After using them to dab up the worst of the blood, he discarded the sorry remnants of his shirt and wrapped the makeshift bandage around his twin's head with the practiced speed that came from unfortunate familiarity with the task.

Elladan's head taken care of, he moved on. A quick examination of his brother's arms and legs revealed nothing worse than scrapes and bruises and Elrohir breathed a sigh of relief. That was something at least. It meant that once Elladan awoke they could likely walk out of here. He finished his inspection by probing Elladan's ribs. Under his twin's water-logged shirt, dark bruises were already forming along his left side, more souvenirs from the river's rough path. His touch was gentle, just enough to confirm that the bones were not broken, but the pain of it must have cut through Elladan's unconscious state regardless. His brother hissed and tensed, unconsciously moving away from his probing hands.

In the dim light Elrohir could barely see Elladan's brows knit together, his face registering the pain that he was suddenly becoming aware of. Elladan groaned again, a low sound and Elrohir winced in sympathy. An echo of his twin's pain was coursing through their bond, a painful yet welcome affirmation of his brother's return to consciousness.

"Elladan, wake up," he coaxed.

He was rewarded with another low moan and then, finally, with the welcome glimpse of his brother's gray eyes opening.

"'Ro?" Elladan was visibly struggling to bring his eyes to focus on him in the darkness. "What happened?"

"The pool collapsed. The river must have dug its bed beneath the rocks for years, trickling through the bottom of the pool until the ground would hold no longer. We fell into the true course of the river – underground."

Recollection dawned in Elladan's eyes at his words and, ever hating the feeling of being helpless, he struggled to sit up. Elrohir was quick to lend him a hand, knowing that trying to prevent Elladan from sitting up would be futile. Still, the effort left his twin winded and he was leaning noticeably to one side, barely able to keep upright. Elrohir chose not to comment.

"What of Estel and Legolas?" Elladan asked. "They fell as well."

"I am not sure, but I caught a glimpse of Legolas close to the other shore, near to the collapsed ceiling. He had Estel with him. I think they reached the shore and left the river much earlier than we did."

He hoped so, he really did. The thought of his little brother stuck in the raging waters of the river, lost in the darkness of the underground world was not one Elrohir was eager to entertain. The worry still burned within him, bright and hot, but he shoved it down, trying to focus on other things: On how to get out of these tunnels for one thing - and on making sure that Elladan did not fall flat on his face for another.

He hurried to support his twin's unseemly attempts to stand as the stubborn fool struggled to get his feet under him, swaying like a dwarf who had had too much ale.

"We have to get out of here," Elladan pressed through gritted teeth, forestalling any reprimand Elrohir could make. "We have to find Estel and Legolas."

He was right, of course. Elrohir sighed and released his hold on Elladan's arm, equal parts steadying and restraining. He would have preferred his twin rest a while longer, but who had he been kidding? The day Elladan would listen to sound advice was the day that those caring for him should truly worry.

Elladan swayed but he remained upright, and he remained determined to set out immediately. Hovering close behind in case his steps should falter after all, Elrohir let his brother take the lead and together they followed the edge of the river back towards the fairy pool. Back to the place that had brought so sudden a stop to their sun-filled day and thrown them quite literally into darkness.

-o0o-

Together Legolas and he made good progress along the underground river. It was slow going, but by the faint glow of Legolas' skin and with a lot of stumbling they eventually made it back to the original cave in. Dim light filtered through the giant hole in the ceiling where the pond had once been and water ran down the edges in a constant stream, falling into the river below. Estel looked up and wondered how, in Eru's name, they were going to get back up there. Especially with something being clearly wrong with Legolas.

Apart from the obvious bruises and cuts that Estel could make out in the low light, there was something else making Legolas slow and sluggish. His friend shouldn't be in such bad shape. What if he collapsed? Estel didn't know what he was going to do if Legolas lost consciousness, or whether he would. Was he just imagining things? Just because he was scared? He felt so uncertain, so overwhelmed and frightened. And where were his brothers?

Reaching a nearby pile of rocks, they both sat down to rest again. They were exhausted and needed time to think about their next move. Estel noticed Legolas wince and move very slowly and stiffly as he sat down. He reassessed his earlier thoughts. He was not imagining things. Something was definitely wrong.

"Legolas, are you alright?"

"I am fine. Do not worry," the elf replied.

But Estel couldn't help but worry for his friend. If Legolas was anything like the twins when injured, he would even insist he was fine while being mangled by orcs. Finding himself unable to completely believe his friend, but unsure what to do about it, Estel instead tried to distract himself.

"How are we going to get out of here?" he asked Legolas, who had been carefully scanning the debris of the cave-in.

"The opening is only about 10 feet up. There are enough rocks for us to use as a ladder and climb up there."

Estel was doubtful: "Are you sure, we can get up there?"

"Of course, we can," Legolas insisted. "We have come so far together. We can do this together as well."

Estel nodded. His friend had gotten them this far. He would not doubt him now, not in this at least.

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

-o0o-

Estel could see the edge of the cave-in just ahead. He just needed to climb a little bit farther and he would be able to finally pull himself out of this hole. Instead of rushing ahead though, he put all his strength into holding onto Legolas and pulling him along as best he could.

Estel was of course a lot smaller than the elf, but he had done everything he could to help his friend during their climb. There was definitely something wrong with Legolas and Estel worried that Legolas was seriously hurt. The elf had stumbled and slipped several times as if he was struggling to keep his balance. It had been a very ungraceful thing to watch and very unlike any elf Estel knew. At least any elf that was not incapacitated in some way.

Estel had seen Legolas wince repeatedly, but his focus had been on keeping them going as best he could and he hadn't been able to pinpoint the source of Legolas' pain.

With a last push of strength and a lot of resolve the two of them finally heaved themselves over the edge and escaped the darkness beneath.

Lying exhausted at the edge, it took them several minutes of rest until they were able to move again. Estel sat up first. He cast a look around, hoping to see Elladan and Elrohir, but unfortunately there was no sign of them. He let his shoulders slump, trying to hold onto the thought that even if they weren't here, they would still be safe.

Finally, he looked over at Legolas, who was lying on his stomach next to him. Estel gasped. Even though the sun was setting, there was enough light left for him to see Legolas' injury clearly now.

"Legolas, your back! You're bleeding!"

Legolas pushed himself up on all fours and carefully sat up. He was obviously in a lot of pain. "I am fine, Estel. Do not worry; it looks worse than it is."

"You don't even know what it looks like!" Estel argued and tried to move over to take a closer look. He was no expert, but he thought the wound looked terrible. Like something from Legolas' and his brothers' stories, a horrible, incapacitating injury wrought by orc weapons or warg bites.

"I know what it is. I was stung by a spider a while ago and I am afraid the wound has now reopened. "

Estel stopped and stared at his friend. "You were hurt this entire time?"

"Yes," Legolas admitted, but hastened to add: "but do not worry overly much, Estel. Both my father's healers as well as your father have looked at it and said I would make a full recovery." Estel tried not to look hurt, but he must have failed to properly school his features, for Legolas continued: "I am sorry, tithen pen. I should have told you about my injuries, but I did not want to worry you."

He did look properly sorry; and Estel knew that there were things the elves, even his family, didn't tell him because they thought he was too young. It was frustrating, but he had other things to worry about now. There would be a time to deal with his emotions once everyone was safe. He nodded and changed the subject, remembering what he had learned from his ada: "We have to put a bandage on your back."

Legolas gave him a small smile: "See if you can find our things."

Estel scrambled to his feet and rushed over to where they had enjoyed their picnic earlier in the day. The horses had left but they were lucky and their things were still where they had left them before going for a swim. He took the saddle bags and hauled them over to Legolas. Over the next few minutes, Legolas instructed Estel on how to apply the healing salve and bind his back. Luckily Elrohir had packed more than enough medical supplies, worried as he always seemed to be about all of them. The thought of his missing brother made him look up and scan the area once more, but deep down he knew he wouldn't find the twins out here. He sighed, they must have been swept away after all.

Having the uncanny ability to read his mind, Legolas tried to put him at ease: "They will be fine, Estel. They are strong and they always find their way back home."

"I know."

"The best thing we can do is return to Rivendell and get help." His back bound, Legolas was sitting up and handed Estel some of the food left over from their earlier picnic.

Estel remained silent, biting half heartedly into a stale honeycake. He knew how important nutrition was for the injured, and for those that needed to keep up their strength before starting a rescue mission. He sighed again. Rationally, Estel knew Legolas was right. There was nothing they could do, especially with Legolas injured. He just hated having to leave his brothers behind. Every cell in his body screamed to look for them, but he knew that going for help was the much more sensible thing to do. And he could do it, he would be a proper grown-up and do the sensible thing.

Decision made and finishing his food, Estel stood up. It was time to do what Elladan would do and take charge. "Can you walk?" he asked Legolas. "We will look for our horses, I'm sure they have not gone far." He ignored the faintly amused expression on Legolas' face, choosing instead to accept his silence as compliance.

He helped Legolas to his feet and together they stumbled towards the place where they had left their rides, hoping to at least find some tracks.

-o0o-

The ground beneath Elladan's feet was shifting, wet rubble and it took all his concentration just to remain upright. Vertigo would attack him, suddenly and without warning, adding another element of uncertainty to their dark, weary trek. In some places the river ran so close to the walls of the cave that they had to wade through the icy waters and he could feel his energy dwindling, as if washed away by the raging river.

Elladan could not even muster the strength to be annoyed with Elrohir's hovering. His twin was prone to overreaction whenever he was injured, but right now it felt good to have him close by, to feel the unspoken support hidden in an occasional brushing of their shoulders. Of course, he would never admit as much out loud.

He smiled grimly at their own peculiar folly, knowing that even now Elrohir was careful not to show the true extent of his worrying, lest Elladan remembered how much he hated it when he fussed.

As if Elladan did not know how worried his twin was. Elrohir's emotions, for all his outward calm, were in turmoil. Their bond reverberated with his twin's fear for Estel, for Legolas' wounds and for his, Elladan's, wellbeing. Elladan, on the other hand, wished that just for once Elrohir would worry about himself. They were a sorry pair, the two of them, occasionally.

He stumbled again, his foot catching on a larger rock between his musings, and faster than the eye could follow Elrohir's hand shot out and caught his arm, steadying him. Their eyes met and he nodded his thanks, too weary to brush off the support, to feign feeling fine. Elrohir's gaze spoke volumes but he held his tongue, content - still - to let Elladan continue his possibly foolish quest to return to the pool without delay, without rest.

Light danced over the foam on the river's waves as he turned back around. The change in brightness had been too slight to appreciate before, but now that he had looked behind at where they had come from, the difference was unmistakable. They were getting closer to the cave-in. His eyes traveled up, searching the elusive ceiling of the underground passage, and was rewarded with a speck of light, a glimmer of sky. The cave-in.

Night was already falling outside, even now the light was dwindling. He must have been unconscious for longer than he had realized.

Beside him Elrohir suddenly tensed, the only warning he had before a second later an ear-splitting jeer rent the air of the tunnel. Dark shapes filled the tunnel ahead, a writhing dark mass of bodies, their jubilant, slavering grunts the unmistakable sound of -

"Yrch!" Elrohir muttered darkly.

So close to their home. These tunnels must extend far back to the Misty Mountains to house these foul creatures. His hand moved mechanically to his waist only to close on empty air, of course they had no weapons – and the orcs were still advancing.

Elrohir took a step forward, moving between him and the advancing orcs and proving just how thin his illusion of letting Elladan lead them truly was.

"There are too many of them," his twin shouted over the din of the approaching beasts and Elladan knew he was right. Their only chance would be to try and outrun them. It grieved him to flee, to let the orcs roam these tunnels, so close to Imladris, for another day, but they had no choice. Without weapons this was a fight they could not win.

He turned, a spike of adrenaline giving him new speed, overriding his weariness and the pain in his head. But before he could even take a step, strong, black claws closed around his throat as he came face to face with the appalling visage of a huge uruk. More orcs had streamed from a fissure in the wall behind them, unheard and unheeded among the clamor made by the main host of the vile creatures down the tunnel. Turning around, they had run right into their arms. They were trapped.

"Got'cha, little fish." The Uruk drawled, and pulled Elladan's head close to its own face.

"Elladan!" Elrohir's voice came from somewhere at his side, followed by the painful grunt of one of the uruks, but Elladan could not free himself from the grasp of the big orc to look. Its hold on him was too strong. It reached out another claw to grab his hair and brought it to its nose, taking a deep breath as if to smell him. Elladan's skin crawled with disgust.

But he needed to remain calm, to keep in control - and he needed to attack. Taking a strong grip on his captor's arms, he raised both his feet off the ground and kicked. The hold on his neck loosened and as his feet found the ground again he drove his fingers up and into the soft skin of the orc's neck, the vulnerable spot next to the jugular, with brutal precision.

If he had had a weapon the hit would have been deadly. As it was, the orc sputtered and wheezed, releasing him to hold its own neck, gasping for breath. A bit more leverage and strength and Elladan might have been able to crush its windpipe and for a brief second he lamented the lost opportunity as something dark stirred within his soul, a hunger for revenge that would never be quenched.

"Elladan!" Elrohir's renewed shout cut through the forming haze and came just in time. Another of the uruks was almost on him. He twisted to the side, barely avoiding the swing of its dark blade as it rushed in to skewer him. The orc overstepped the attack, rushing past him, and Elladan drove his elbow mercilessly down on the back of its head. It fell in a heap.

He looked up, searching for his brother in the darkness, where all movement merged to a writhing black mass without form or shape. The light outside had failed. Night had come.

But suddenly Elrohir was beside him, thrusting an orc dagger into his hand, its handle slick with blood. "We have to run," he gasped breathlessly and Elladan did not argue. They turned and rushed down the tunnel, back into darkness. Away from their only way out.

-o0o-

Glorfindel was walking up and down along the eastern entryway of Rivendell, making a concerted effort to appear as if he was not, in fact, patrolling it. He was just out for a stroll, waiting for the four trouble-makers to return from their 'day trip' to the pools. They should have been back hours ago and loathe as he was to admit it, Glorfindel was working himself into quite a state of agitation.

What did they think they were doing by keeping everyone waiting? Even if it had been a lovely day, they had promised to be back for dinner. When they had failed to show up on time, it had been left to him to reassure Elrond. His lord had worried profusely, especially about the Mirkwood prince and Estel, and had begun to doubt his decision to ever let them go.

Glorfindel had done all he could to calm Elrond. In the end, however, he had had to rely on Erestor to distract their lord and had come out here to wait. After all, the four were still inside the borders of Imladris and at least the elflings should be able to take care of anything that came their way. He had trained Elladan and Elrohir himself after all.

No, they were just tardy and as soon as they showed up, they would get a proper talking-to for worrying everyone needlessly.

At long last, Glorfindel heard the hooves of horses coming up the path and turned to glare at the wayward quartet. But at the sight that met his eyes, his breath caught; The horses had come back without their riders.

His face darkened. This changed things. Despite what he had tried to tell Elrond, what he had tried to convince himself of, there could now be no more doubt. Something must have happened to the younglings. Those four loved their horses, they would never lose them. And the horses loved their riders too much to abandon them. The fine animals were well trained; they would only run home to get help if their riders were lost or in danger.

Not thinking twice about his actions, Glorfindel turned and shouted to the guards on the wall to inform Lord Elrond of the news and to assemble a search party as quickly as possible. He ordered them to follow him to the pools as fast as they could, using Elrohir's horse to guide them.

Trusting that his orders would be followed, Glorfindel grabbed the reins of Elladan's horse and climbed into the saddle. Knowing the elven horse would be able to handle the exertion, he urged Belroch forward and galloped east on his own. He would be the first to find them.

-o0o-

Once again Legolas and Estel were stumbling through the darkness. Granted the air was better, but beyond that it felt very familiar. Again they could hardly see anything. Night had fallen and the sky was overcast with no stars to be seen. But unlike underground, now they were not even sure where they were going. Estel and Legolas both knew which way Rivendell lay of course, but that did them little good. In the state Legolas was in, he could hardly walk back home.

'Even if Legolas wasn't injured, walking back home on foot would take way too much time to help Dan and Ro,' Estel thought, frustrated. What they needed was to find the horses. Only they were nowhere to be seen.

'Oh where is Rochdithen? Where are Belroch and Talagor and Legolas' horse?' Estel silently asked himself for the umpteenth time. It was no surprise that the noise of the cave-in had spooked the horses, but Estel would have expected them to still be waiting for them nearby. Even Legolas had said that they couldn't have gotten far. It made no sense; their faithful steeds were well trained. Or had the horses done what he and Legolas were trying? Had they returned home to get help?

They must have been searching for over an hour now with no sign of their horses. Plus on the uneven ground and in almost complete darkness, they had stumbled over rocks or roots and fallen several times. He had heard Legolas' involuntary hisses of pain and knew his friend was doing much worse than he claimed. They couldn't keep this up much longer. Estel himself was exhausted and if not for his worry and sheer determination to get help for his brothers, he would have collapsed by now.

Frustration gave way to anger: 'Why can't we get a break? Why is everything against us today? It had been such a nice day and now Legolas is hurt and the twins are lost and I can't help them - I can't help anyone!' Estel fought the urge to stamp his foot, because he was still holding onto his friend and didn't want to jostle Legolas and cause him more pain. Instead he could feel his eyes water. Tears of anger and frustration were threatening to fall, but Estel didn't want to cry. He was too old for crying and it wouldn't help anything or anyone.

'This is a nightmare!'

Suddenly, before he knew what was happening, Estel felt Legolas' arms wrap around him and they both landed in a heap on the ground.

'What…?'

-o0o-

Chapter Text

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...

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

-o0o-

Glorfindel was riding hard eastwards towards the pools. He could not afford to waste time in finding Estel, Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir. As fast as Belroch's hooves would carry him they hurried through the falling night. He silently thanked the faithful and persistent elven horse for its strength and loyalty. Already they had all but completed the journey that would normally take two hours. Elladan's horse would deserve quite a treat once everyone was safe.

Glorfindel crested the last hill before the pools and could finally catch a glimpse of his destination. In the darkness of the almost starless night he could not see much, but he could make out a significant change in the landscape. There was no way to be sure, nothing that he could pinpoint, but the line of trees was wrong, the silhouette of the rocks around the pools changed. Clearly something bigger than he had expected had happened here.

Fighting the urge to rush forward and closer, Glorfindel instead reined Belroch back, trying to maintain his famous composure. He had a bad feeling about what lay ahead and thousands of years of experience told him to listen to his own misgivings, to be careful and objective.

He continued towards the pools, but slowed down and led Belroch off the beaten track. As he continued, he soon caught unexpected noises: Noises that were all too familiar. He must be mistaken. Never had he expected to hear the noise of a band of orcs moving along a path this close to the Last Homely House, right inside the valley. How had the enemy made it past their borders? Where were the elven warriors protecting this realm?

But questions would have to wait. Now was a time for action. His knew, intrinsically, frustratingly, that he could not fight these many creatures, that attempting to do so would put every living being in the Hidden Valley at risk. There was only one thing that he could do, the thing that he must do: Ride back to Rivendell and assemble his warriors to fight the foe. And yet the seneschal hesitated. He had not forgotten Lord Elrond's sons and the Mirkwood prince. Clearly they were in dire danger and a part of him wanted to rush at the enemy in the vain hope of finding the missing elves and human, no matter the odds of his own survival.

But while he could hear the orcs move, could hear the clinging of metal as they walked, there were no sounds of combat. No shouts, no jeers, no weapons crossing in a shower of sparks and with a ringing of metal on metal. The orcs were organizing for an attack on Rivendell, not facing the twins or - Glorfindel added darkly - having sport with prisoners. He had to hope that this meant the twins, Estel, and Legolas were not in immediate danger. With a fervent prayer to the Valar that he was correct, Glorfindel turned to follow through with his decision to return and get help.

It was one of the hardest decisions he had ever had to make, but he could not risk the safety of his home and of all the elves in Rivendell, not even for the missing four. His duty was to all of Rivendell.

He would ride back and return with his warriors as fast as possible. All he could hope was that Legolas, Estel and the twins would hold on until his return. He had taught Elladan and Elrohir himself, had even given a few lessons to Legolas whenever he was in Rivendell. Rationally, he knew that they were capable warriors that had faced worse odds and survived. It was the thought Glorfindel was clinging to as he urged Belroch around and back the way they had come, the thought he conjured like a litany, a steady reminder. Unfortunately, other thoughts intruded on his carefully held composure. Worry born of love for the missing four, and of unfortunate experience; For all four had a tendency for finding trouble like few others could.

But those thoughts helped him little and he steeled his heart against the pain of abandoning them. For now, he simply had to trust that they would be fine, that they would look after each other and little Estel. They had to stay safe. He would never forgive himself if something happened to the sons of Elrond and Thranduil.

-o0o-

Legolas held his breath as the two orcs proceeded along their way. At one point the foul beasts had been close enough to touch if he had but reached out, and Legolas breathed a prayer of thanks to the Valar that Estel had stayed quiet. He might have been able to take these two orcs, but that would have raised all the uruks nearby and would have spelled their end.

He breathed out slowly in relief and relaxed slightly. Hiding behind bushes was not exactly secure, but at least there seemed to be no more orcs moving their way. Instead, the beasts seemed to spread out and explore the area close to the cave-in. There could be only one explanation for the orcs' sudden appearance: They had come from the tunnels below - the tunnels where the twins were most likely still caught. His worry for Estel's brothers increased dramatically.

He knew the twins would have found them by now if they had left the passages below. And they should have been able to reach the cave-in and climb back out well before nightfall. They would have, Legolas was certain, unless they had been swept dangerously far along the underground river or been delayed by injury. And any delay would have made it highly likely that the twins had run into these very orcs. Unarmed and outnumbered...

'No, stop thinking like that and focus!' Legolas told himself firmly. He did not know what had happened to the twins and he was in no position to do anything about it anyway. There was no point in agonizing over the unknown. His focus, for now, had to be on keeping Elladan's and Elrohir's little brother safe.

So he and Estel needed a plan. They could not stay here and wait for help as he had originally planned. With all those orcs between them and their way back to Rivendell, they were stuck in an even more dangerous situation. With Estel in his care and with his back injured he did not dare try and get around the orcs. No, they needed to find a place to hide. A better place than flimsy greenery. The horses had made for Rivendell, help was on the way. They only needed to hold out until it arrived.

Maybe there were some caves nearby, beyond the waterfalls where the mountains rose up, or perhaps he could find some large boulders they could hide behind. Legolas vaguely remembered seeing some earlier while looking for the horses. Those would probably be their best option.

His thoughts were interrupted when Estel gasped, the small sound harsh and loud in the night's silence, and he immediately moved to cover his mouth. Estel struggled against him, his eyes wide with fear, and Legolas realized that the little boy was terrified. He must have seen the orcs. His struggles continued to increase and frantic Legolas tried to restrain him, to hold him. Estel needed to calm down before they were discovered, but the boy was beyond reason. And Legolas had no idea how to calm him without speaking. Growing frantic himself, Legolas checked the way the orcs had gone - and saw that both creatures had turned in their direction.

The orcs had heard them.

There was not a second to spare. Legolas grabbed Estel while still covering his mouth and changed their position as quickly and as quietly as possible. Moving along the line of trees and bushes, he kept to the shadows as best he could.

By some miracle the orcs did not seem to see their escape in the shadows and were now examining the spot he and Estel had just been. It gave him and Estel a few seconds respite, but with their good sense of smell, the orcs would be on their tail in no time. They now knew that elves and humans were nearby and would hunt them down. These beasts would not stop.

He and Estel needed a good hiding place, needed to throw the orcs off their scent, now! But how? Where? Legolas could not keep carrying Estel. Already, his back was bathed in white hot agony and carrying the boy was slowing him down. Without the threat of the nearby orcs and the adrenaline coursing in his veins, Legolas was sure he would have passed out by now. He had to put Estel down, had to rely on the boy to be calm and run on his own.

When they reached a small copse of trees Legolas put the child down and hushed him. Estel looked back at him with terrified eyes, but at least he was not screaming or bolting into the dark. Legolas had seen this type of fear before, had felt it himself on his first patrols, and his heart broke for seeing it in someone so young. But he also knew that in the wild, terror would get you killed. Marshaling his most reassuring voice, Legolas whispered: "Estel, I know you are scared, but you need to be very brave now. We have to find a good hiding place, one where the orcs will not smell us and we do not have much time. They know we are here and they will come looking. You need to do exactly as I tell you and be as quiet as you can."

Estel nodded like he was in a trance, but Legolas was sure the boy had understood him. Grabbing Estel's hand he pulled him along. The boy followed willingly. At least they moved faster now and although Legolas' elven ears could make out sounds of pursuit, those were still some distance off.

They reached some of the boulders Legolas had noticed earlier, but to his dismay they were mostly bare rocks without cracks or gullies. They would never serve as a hiding place. Making a split second decision, Legolas turned north towards the spring of the river that had fed the pools. After a few hundred meters they reached the part of the river that was still flowing above ground. Hopefully the water would help hide their tracks.

"Come!" he told Estel and pulled him along into the water. Legolas followed the bend upriver. The foliage was getting thicker here and would hopefully hide their flight. Unfortunately, the water slowed them down again, especially Estel. The river almost reached the boy's waist, so it was very hard for him to move quickly. Fighting the stabbing pain in his back, he lifted Estel into his arms again and trudged on.

"Legolas, I can hear the orcs coming," Estel whispered frantically.

Alas, there was no way to miss the sounds of the orcs as they entered the water. Even Estel's human ears could not miss all that splashing. Although he was not sure exactly how many were following them, there were certainly more than two orcs now.

Quickening his own steps as much as he dared, Legolas tried to reassure his little friend: "Be calm, Estel. They are still too far away to see us in the dark and they will lose our scent soon enough. We will just have to find a good hiding place upriver."

He felt Estel nod against his shoulders and his little arms tightened across Legolas' shoulders for a moment. Estel was trying to be brave. Just like Legolas. For in honesty, Legolas felt that they were moving too slowly, and feared that the orcs would be upon them at any moment, but he was not going to stop or look back.

Finally, they rounded another bend in the river and blessedly Legolas saw a wide waterfall tumble over a large cliff, breaking on a mound of large boulders. Blessed Eru, it was perfect. They moved towards the rushing waters as fast as Legolas' feet could carry them and disappeared into the mist at the bottom of the waterfall.

-o0o-

He had had enough of this Eru-forsaken underground passage, with its deafening river and its treacherous footing, Elladan decided. He clung to the irritation as his foot caught on another stone, sending him stumbling again. Annoyance and sheer stubbornness might be the only thing driving him by now, the only thing that gave him the energy to lift his leaden feet and place them on the shifting, blurry ground for one more step.

His head was throbbing with every beat of his heart, every breath he took and the ringing in his ears almost drowned out the roaring of the river. The waters seemed to be getting wilder again, faster … Elladan's thoughts trailed off as he looked at the stream, gauging the distance of the far shore. Was the tunnel getting narrower? He could not be sure. The tunnel was too dark for even his elven eyes to pierce, his own soft light not an adequate source of illumination.

For a moment he stood there unmoving, until suddenly he snapped out of whatever daze had fallen and shook his head, for once welcoming the sharp sting of pain that the movement brought. It helped to clear a fraction of the fog that seemed to dowse his senses.

Every thought seemed to take longer to form and he had given up on listening for sounds of pursuit hours ago. Over the sound of the ringing in his ears he would not hear a horde of oliphants, he was sure. Even his awareness of his bond with Elrohir was dampened, diminished like a flame flickering in a storm.

He turned to glance behind him but his foot caught on the ground once more and this time his arms were too slow to search for the solid support of the walls. His impact with the rough ground was jarring and a sharp pain exploded between his temples. He groaned in renewed frustration.

Sitting up he leaned back against the cave-wall once more, his eyes firmly closed, waiting for the surge of his headache and the accompanying nausea to subside. A thought was clamoring for his attention, fighting through the mire that was his brain right now. When he could finally grasp it, it cut through the fog like a hot knife through butter. His eyes snapped open.

Elrohir!

Where was his fussing brother with his silent 'I told you so'?

With a jolt he realized that the path behind him was empty, his roaming eyes caught no sight of Elrohir. He had lost his twin! How was that even possible? He struggled to his feet, finding new energy in the face of Elrohir's sudden absence. His mind was abuzz with self-recrimination and his thoughts, so sluggish a moment ago, went into overdrive as he tried to piece together when he had last turned around, had last heard his brother's steps beside his own.

Surely, he would have noticed Elrohir just disappearing? He groped for their bond once more, still faint and muted, and a new thought occurred to him.

What was Elrohir hiding? Had he truly, foolishly thought that Elrohir would have remained unharmed – or be forthcoming about a possible injury?

His face darkened. Once he found his ill-fated, irresponsible, unthinking … Elladan broke off as he caught sight of movement on the path. His eyes were slow to focus on the dim shape of his brother, shuffling through the shallow end of the river lapping at the tunnel wall, but it was Elrohir.

He breathed a sigh of relief. His twin had merely fallen behind, had not been snatched by the pursuing orcs or some other long-forgotten terror of the dark. Yet, for all his relief, finding Elrohir did nothing to lessen his worry.

Even at this distance and in the darkness Elladan could see his brother was struggling. He was cradling his arm close to his chest as if protecting it from being jarred as he made his way over the uneven ground with slow, heavy steps. And he was too pale – the reason that Elladan had not spotted his brother before was painfully obvious: Elrohir barely stood out from the darkness of the cavern, the soft light of his fëa was all but invisible.

As he watched, Elrohir finally looked up, and there, much too late was the reaction he had expected minutes ago. When Elrohir caught sight of him, his whole posture changed. Somewhere he must have found new energy for he hurried forward, crossing the last few steps that lay between them in fast, fluent strides that would not fool Elladan even if he had not seen his painful shuffling before.

There was clear concern in his brother's gaze and he sounded dismayed when he breathed his name. "Dan! Are you…"

"What did you do?" Elladan interrupted him, his voice hard. Elrohir's obvious worry for his well-being served only to incite him further. How dare his reckless brother be worried for him while hiding something of this proportion? Elrohir's breathing came in short, straining gasps, so loud that Elladan wondered how he had not heard his brother before seeing him.

Elrohir, for his part, made no move to deny anything. He raised his hand and Elladan caught it in his own, seeing the ugly, small cut just before Elrohir said: "I cut myself."

"On an orc blade." Elladan finished for him, even as dread seemed to close off his throat. Darkness was rushing in to suffocate him. No! No, this could not be happening.

He looked up and found nothing in Elrohir's eyes to sustain the fire of his anger. Just empty, bleak acceptance. They were caught in the dark without supplies, pursued by orcs. There was nothing they could do about a poisoned wound.

"Why did you not tell me?" he asked, defeated, somewhere between despair and accusation.

"I did not notice at first," Elrohir answered, and when he caught Elladan's look of disbelief he added: "Truly!" His breath hitched on the word and he visibly struggled to force another breath into his lungs and suddenly things fell into place. Their rest! Elladan had even then noticed his twin's ragged breathing but had thought nothing of it.

He reached out to place his hand on Elrohir's chest, just over his lungs, a healer's touch. With dismay he noticed the heat radiating from his twin's body but steadfastly ignored this obvious sign of poisoning. Reaching out with his fëa he probed deeper. He could sense the black taint of the poison as it coursed through Elrohir's veins, wreaking havoc, stealing his very life away. Elrohir's body and spirit fought against the onslaught but Elladan could feel him weakening, feel his energy flagging, his body failing. And Elladan had no supplies, no power to heal his dying brother.

"We have to get you to Adar."

Elrohir reached up to place his own hand over Elladan's and gave it a small squeeze. The corners of his mouth lifted as he said: "Luckily, we are on our way already."

Elladan rolled his eyes, and regretted it instantly when a sharp spike of pain shot through his head. He more felt than saw Elrohir tense under his touch and Elladan was quick to reassure him. "I am fine."

"It is not that," Elrohir answered, breathless. "I can hear orcs."

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

-o0o-

Glorfindel had been urging Belroch to even greater speed on their way back towards Rivendell. The elven horse seemed to grasp the severity of the situation, not shying away from the brutal pace, but seemingly finding some untapped reserves instead. Belroch must have caught the scent of the orcs or known that they were getting help for its rider.

Glorfindel knew how close the bond between the twins and their horses was. It was the reason the animals had returned to Rivendell to seek aid in the first place. Glorfindel had never been more grateful for the strength and endurance of these fine animals - and of the fact that Belroch knew the way home.

Glorfindel let the stallion guide them home, his own thoughts still preoccupied with the appearance of orcs in the Hidden Valley and with the choice he had been forced to make. For all his efforts he could not banish the doubt that it had been wrong, that he had left the sons of Elrond to die a horrible death at the hand of the foul beasts. Knowing the twins and Legolas to be in danger was bad enough but imagining poor innocent Estel in the hands of those monsters sent a shiver of fear down the seneschal's back. He did not want to imagine what the creatures could do to the small child. If Estel fell into the hands of the orcs, it would destroy both Elrond and the twins - if they managed to survive that was.

Finally, Glorfindel's thoughts were disrupted by the very sight his eyes had been longing to see. Up ahead, twenty of his finest warriors were approaching him in two lines at great speed. It was the search party he had ordered before leaving Rivendell. They had obviously followed his orders and were riding to do their duty at breakneck speed, following in the wake of Elrohir's horse.

Glorfindel pulled up sharply and Belroch skidded to a halt right as his men reached him. They were clearly surprised to see him riding towards them. Glorfindel wasted no time and appraised them of the situation: "Orcs have breached the Hidden Valley. I do not know how or where exactly they come from, but I know that right this minute an unknown number of enemies is approaching our home, intent on destroying everything we hold dear. It falls on us to stop these monsters from ever reaching the Last Homely House."

His men did not disappoint him. They did not ask unnecessary questions or voice any objections. On the contrary, the determination he could see in their eyes strengthened his own resolve.

"I do not know what happened to Estel, Legolas, Elladan or Elrohir. The orcs came from their last known position. It is very likely that they are in trouble. Aside from protecting our home, we will do all we can to find and rescue them," Glorfindel added.

He turned to his second in command, who had led the search party here: "Nelledir, ride back to Rivendell as fast as you can and report to Lord Elrond. Tell him of what has happened and what we intend to do. Ask him to send out half the remaining warriors to come to our aid and to set the rest to guarding Rivendell in case the orcs break through. Ask him to prepare the Halls of Healing. Hopefully it will not come to the worst, but I want our home protected."

Nelledir nodded and immediately turned his horse around and galloped away, back the way they had come.

Glorfindel turned around as well and shouted to his warriors: "Follow me. Prepare to meet the enemy head on."

-o0o-

Elrond was sitting alone in his office in the healing wing. He had done his duty and prepared this place of restoration to the best of his abilities. Since he had no knowledge of what had befallen Legolas and his sons, he had had to prepare for every eventuality: fever, open wounds, scrapes and bruises… the list was endless. The most likely reason for his sons' delay, he thought, was that Legolas' wounds had reopened, rendering them unable to travel at speed. He would be able to deal with that, though he hoped he would not need to. If Legolas' wound had reopened it would set the prince's recovery back significantly.

But the longer he sat awaiting the return of the four the more his fears seemed to become certainties - and his worry only grew. Before the horses had returned to Rivendell, he had been able to pretend that they were merely late. That they had had so much fun they had forgotten the time - or more likely that Estel had pleaded with his brothers to let them stay longer. Hanging on to that possibility, that explanation that he wanted to believe, he had been able to work, to ignore his ever growing sense of dread. Erestor had distracted him with talks of treaties and supplies, and for a time all seemed well.

However, ever since the horses had returned he knew that something was very wrong, indeed. And as the minutes, the hours passed without word of his sons' return, his fears only turned darker. He had been unwilling to consider it before, had clung to the belief that the one injury he knew about was to blame - but he had to face the truth: Even a reopening of Legolas' wound could not explain four riderless horses. If it had only been the prince injured, one of the twins would have stayed with him while the other rode back with Estel. Something must have happened to one or more of them. He hoped with all his might that it was not Estel. While he loved all his children equally, as adan Estel was so much more vulnerable to injuries and sickness. He remembered only too well how Estel had almost died three years ago, when he ran away to find the twins, getting lost and hurt in a storm. And if anything had happened to Estel, he did not want to consider the reaction of his older sons. Their tendency to worry about each other extended double to their little brother. They would be beside themselves with worry and blame, making them more likely to do something foolish and dangerous.

'All three of them could be….', Elrond stopped his line of thought abruptly and walked out of his office. He needed to move. Sitting here, not knowing what had happened was driving him insane. Rationally, he knew he should remain where he was, but he could not stand this uncertainty, this growing doubt any longer. He made his way to the eastern courtyard and stables. Here, he would be the first to see his sons when they returned. That way he could most quickly assess their injuries as well.

He had just made it to the courtyard, when Nelledir returned. Elrond was surprised, despite coming here, he had not truly expected anyone from the search party to return so soon. And certainly not alone. The sense of dread in his heart intensified. This was not a good sign. The elf jumped off his horse's back without stopping and rushed towards him.

"My lord, an unknown number of orcs has entered the Hidden Valley. They are coming from the direction of the eastern pools. Glorfindel has taken the search party to fight them. He also intends to find your sons and Prince Legolas. He sent me back to gather more troops: half the warriors to follow them as fast as possible and the other half to protect our home."

Elrond blanched, this was even worse than he had feared. His sons were in danger of being captured by orcs, even Estel. His mind still reeling, Elrond nevertheless pushed his first reaction, that of the worried father aside, and focused instead on his other role - that of Lord of Rivendell.

His realm was being invaded. There was no time to waste.

"Nelledir, help get the horses ready. You will lead the warriors back into the fight. Cadwar will see to the defenses of Rivendell."

Elrond turned to go and do as Glorfindel had ordered: assemble the warriors and protect his home. In turn he trusted his seneschal to do as he had promised: Find Legolas and his sons.

-o0o-

Estel was lying on the cold stone shivering. He was soaked through, freezing, and exhausted. If it weren't for the tremulous sound of the waterfall and his fear of the orcs still hunting them he might well have drifted off to sleep. On any other day he would probably cry at the unfairness of it all, or at the sheer terror of the night. However, today he was heeding Legolas' words and tried to be very brave. He was determined to be as quiet as an elf and to not give away their position - again. After all, if he had kept quiet the last time they were hiding; those orcs wouldn't be on their tail now.

This time would be different. The orcs wouldn't find them in their hiding spot, they would move on and Legolas and Estel would get home and get help for the twins. That was what he was focusing on. He tried not to think about where the orcs would go or what they would do once they gave up on the two of them. He tried to ignore the knowledge that his brothers must be close and that it was likely they had already met with the orcs. He tried not to worry about them.

But it was impossible.

He knew Dan and Ro had a long history with the orcs and that they tended to get injured a lot when those creatures were involved. And today they couldn't even fight, they were unarmed and wet. What if the orcs…

He drew a breath, silently, pushing the thought away. He had to focus on the here and now, on remaining silent. The sooner he and Legolas got away from the orcs the sooner they could get help for his brothers. He would rescue them.

Strangely enough, Estel wasn't much worried for himself. As time went on and even though the orcs were hunting them, his fear of the orcs had diminished. He felt safe with Legolas nearby. He knew his friend would protect him, knew that he was doing so now. Legolas was hurt, yes, but the appearance of the orcs seemed to have given him some strength. Clearly focusing on their pursuers helped distract him from his pain. Legolas had managed to get them away from the orcs and he had found this perfect hiding spot. The orcs would never find them here, Estel was sure of it.

His friend was lying behind him at the moment, Estel's only source of warmth. He wasn't moving, but poised to spring forward and attack anyone that came too close to them. They couldn't see much, but both were listening for the orcs' splashing footsteps.

So far Estel hadn't heard anything over the sounds of the waterfall, but now he could hear them. Orcs were close. He wasn't sure how many feet were causing the sounds, but to his ears it sounded like many. And they appeared to be coming closer to their position. The orcs must be very close to the waterfall by now.

Estel held his breath and squeezed his eyes closed. 'Please move on, please move on,' he prayed.

However, it did not appear that they would be that lucky. The orcs seemed to have stopped in front of the waterfall. They must have lost their trail and were now investigating the area. He could hear some of the orcs shout. He didn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded much too close for Estel's liking. He might be wrong, but it appeared that at least some of the orcs were moving towards the waterfall.

Suddenly, Estel heard a very loud splash and orcs shouting even louder in their strange language. He tensed, but remained calm. He couldn't be sure what had happened, but he thought that some of the orcs must have jumped through the rushing waters of the waterfall and into the dark cave behind it.

Estel was suddenly very happy that he and Legolas hadn't picked that cavern as their hiding spot after all. He had been surprised that there had been a hollow space behind the waterfall - he certainly had not expected one to be there. When Legolas had led him through the water and Estel had seen the space, he had been convinced that it would be the perfect hiding place. However, Legolas had shook his head and said, almost as if to himself: "No, it is too obvious. I have a better idea."

There had been no time to ask questions, and he had stayed quiet, trusting Legolas. Estel now knew that his friend had been right. Hiding behind the waterfall would have been a disaster. He was glad that he hadn't argued with Legolas and just followed him. The elf had led him to the side of the cavern and back through the waterfall. Here, several large boulders had fallen near the river, their solid shapes interspersed with thick dark bushes. They had obviously come from the cliff. Legolas had cut a path through the bushes and after a short search had found them the perfect spot. Under one of the large boulders and hidden from view by the vegetation had been a dent just large enough for the two of them to crawl into. That's where they were waiting now.

To Estel it felt like an eternity of holding still and being quiet until he could hear the loud splash once again. That second splash indicated that the orcs had exited the caves behind the waterfall empty handed. They were shouting again and Estel thought they sounded frustrated, angry. The orcs were probably furious that their prey eluded them, but hopefully this meant that they would give up soon. As far as he knew these creatures were not known for either patience or cleverness. It was unlikely that they would come and look under the boulders, he hoped.

Without warning, Estel suddenly heard footsteps very close to their hiding spot. The orcs must have spread out after all, not willing to give up yet. They were searching for them in the area, more determined to find their prey than Estel had thought. He didn't understand it though. Why would they exert so much energy at finding the two of them, when they had the whole of Rivendell in front of them? Didn't they perhaps know that they were in the Hidden Valley? Or did they think he and Legolas would somehow warn the others? Obviously, he didn't know enough about orcs to understand their motives. If they survived this, he would ask Legolas later.

The footsteps got even closer. There were three orcs right next to the boulder, Estel could see their misshapen feet, their waists as they stepped ever closer. Although Estel kept quiet and didn't make a sound, he felt Legolas' hand slowly move to cover his mouth. Legolas didn't want a repeat of earlier. Estel could not blame his friend as he would do anything not to be discovered again. But he was determined that this time the hand over his mouth would not be needed.

The foliage kept Estel and Legolas hidden, but through the leaves he could see the orcs up close for the first time. They were covered in filthy clothes and every bit as ugly as Estel remembered them to be: Cruel features and bent bodies. However, while these creatures were awful to look at, the real danger came from the long and rusty blades with the weird spike at the top that they held in their hands. Estel did not want to make closer acquaintance with those weapons.

Finally, the orcs relented and gave up, turning back towards what Estel assumed to be the rest of their small hunting group. Estel sighted in relief but just as he was about to relax a bit, he noticed something awful. A stray beam of moonlight fell on a piece of white cloth, stuck into the back pocket of one of the beasts. With a jolt Estel recognized the bloodied remains of Elrohir's shirt.

He froze. Terror filled him. This was proof of at least one of his brother's being injured. One of his brothers had run across these vile creatures! Estel forgot all about being quiet. He struggled against Legolas' hold on him. He had to get out. He needed to find his brothers! He could not stay here any longer doing nothing.

Estel struggled but Legolas did not let him go, holding him even tighter, and preventing any large movements. His hold was restraining but also warm, understanding, comforting. But Estel did not want comfort. He wanted his brothers! The muffled sounds Estel made turned from impotent shouts to quiet sobs and were all drowned out by the lapping of the orcs' feet as the creatures waded back through the pool and finally gave up their search. And as they left so did the rush of energy and despair that had gotten so sudden a hold of him. He felt himself deflate in Legolas' tears streaking down his cheeks and over Legolas' hand.

His friend held onto him for a long time. Many minutes passed where no sounds of orc could be heard, until the elf finally relaxed his grip and removed his hand from his mouth, settling it lower, drawing Estel into an embrace.

Estel hardly cared. They were finally save, but his mind was bent on a single question. What had happened to his brothers?

-o0o-

They were too slow. Elrohir knew it was the truth, could hear the orcs coming closer, the noise they made in their search clear even over the rushing water. It was only a matter of time until the orcs would spot them – to their dark-adapted eyes Elladan and he would stand out like beacons of light.

There was no hiding and there was no escape.

And they were in no condition to fight either. Elladan still had the knife that Elrohir had wrestled from the orcs and then given him, his own cut palm too slick with blood to hold on to the unwieldy weapon, but what could that avail them? In their current state a single determined uruk might overwhelm them. It was painful to admit, painful to have to run from the accursed creatures that marred Arda with their mockery of an existence – in harmony with nothing, searching only destruction and death.

His breath burned in his lungs as his muscles seized again, once more failing to contract, to release the air he was holding for another, fresh gasp of life. It took more focus than before, more strength to force his aching muscles to cooperate, to keep breathing long enough to escape from these dark tunnels, to return home.

Home. The spots that lined his vision danced again, forming new, mocking images of their home in flames, Rivendell burning, her inhabitants screaming in the throes of a deadly blaze. He gasped at the intensity of the poison-brought hallucination, almost feeling the heat of the consuming fire licking across his own chest and back – but no, that was the fever. He was still underground and nothing burned but his own flesh.

Shaking his head to clear it of the images, he almost jumped at the sudden cold touch on his arm. Elladan. His twin was now walking beside him, clearly unwilling to let him out of his sight again lest he fall behind once more. His twin's gaze was apologetic when he said: "We have to keep moving."

Elrohir nodded, lacking the breath to speak, and forced his legs forward once again. Their only chance lay in finding another exit from this accursed path underground. A way back to the valley – and one that the orcs had never noticed.

The small, treacherous thought had been haunting him for a while now. Mocking and unbearable in its logic. If the orcs had always roamed these tunnels, barred from their entrance into Imladris only by the solid rock above their heads, they would have found other openings, some way down into the valley to attack what they detested most. And with every step he took, every ounce of strength that seemed to leak from his body, the thought came louder, its conclusion more certain.

There was no way out.

As if in answer to the thought, the river suddenly fell silent. Its voice hushed as it ran into a large basin, an underground pool, its surface a deep, serene black. And on all sides, it was ringed by solid stone. The path did not continue. They were trapped.

Behind them the rough laughter of the orcs echoed from the walls.

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

-o0o-

Belroch's flanks were heaving, its dappled gray coat sweaty beneath Glorfindel's gentle touch. With a few whispered words he sent the faithful stallion away to find rest and water, thanking it for its speed and endurance and – when the large, intelligent eyes lingered on him - adding a promise to find its rider.

The horse's loyalty almost brought a smile to his lips, but his heart was heavy with foreboding. He did not know whether he would be able to fulfill that promise.

For better or for worse they had found no signs of struggle, had not heard sounds of combat. Nothing seemed to have hindered the orcs' advance. Already their feet were trampling the delicate blossoms of the mountain meadow, their claws raking the ground, leaving harsh scars in the peaceful dale.

Glorfindel knew that Elladan and Elrohir would never allow this to happen - if they were in a position to prevent it. Common sense and sheer numbers could mean preciously little to them when faced with the tormentors of their mother. Protecting Estel and an injured Legolas would only add fuel to a fire that still smoldered too fiercely.

No, the very presence of the orcs in the Hidden Valley, unchecked, unhindered, bode ill for his chances of finding Elrond's sons unharmed.

Yet he could not allow himself to dwell on the possibilities, could not afford to second-guess his choice to turn around and alert the guards of Rivendell. That choice had been made, and if he wanted to see Legolas and the sons of Elrond safe then he had to deal with the orcs first.

Glorfindel moved forward along the line of dense underbrush, his hair blending with the closed yellow blossoms that studded the shrubs like dew drops in the morning. He had halted his elves west of the fairy pools, just behind a ridge that would conceal their coming from the orcs. If the foul beasts were heading towards the Last Homely House, they would have to come this way into the valley.

Gaining the edge of the ridge, Glorfindel could finally see what had happened and what he was up against in all its harsh detail. At least two scores of orcs were amassed on the meadows below, shouting at each other, tearing up flowers, sullying the stream that flowed across the dale. And the stream … Glorfindel inadvertently held his breath at the full extent of the destruction of the pools. He had noticed a shift in the landscape before, but seeing it now up close still took him by surprise. The pools were gone. Where before the merry stream would have rushed over short falls into a gleaming basin of pale blue now there was a gaping hole, a black wound in the very fabric of the Hidden Valley. And it bled orcs like foul poison.

More orcs were still emerging from the pit, while some went back in, a hornet's nest that had been awakened and now prepared for its bitter sting.

But for all the noise and the damage the orcs were creating, there was very little movement. No herding of uruks towards the deeper parts of the valley, no demands for slaughter and elf flesh. What were the beasts waiting for?

He retreated back to the main host of his warriors and arrived just as the two scouts he had sent in other directions came back as well. He nodded for them to report.

"My lord," Berandir was saying, "most of the creatures are agitated but waiting, perhaps for their chieftain. But we spotted one group that was moving north, towards the higher waterfall."

"What were they doing?" Glorfindel asked.

Berandir shrugged his shoulders, unsure. "I cannot be certain, but whatever they are doing I think it is the reason for the main host's delay." He was quiet for a moment, before saying out loud what Glorfindel was thinking. The only reason for orcs to postpone an attack on the valley. "I think they were hunting."

Berandir did not need to say what, or rather who, the orcs would be hunting for.

"How far?"

"Within hearing distance from the other yrch. A quarter mile up the stream." There was something dark in Berandir's eyes and it was mirrored in the faces of the other warriors. These creatures had invaded their home, and they were after their friends. Most of these elves had ridden on patrols or to guard duty with the twins, and there was not an elf in the Hidden Valley that had not fallen for Estel's easy charm, his sincerity and innocence. The orcs, for all their advantage in numbers, would not stand a chance against his warriors, Glorfindel knew.

But he did need a plan.

-o0o-

Legolas still held Estel in his arms. He no longer covered his mouth or clutched him tight, but he did not want to let go of his friend altogether. There had to be comfort in the touch, he hoped, as he tried to console the little human, unable to think of anything to say. What words could possibly help? The remains of Elrohir's shirt confirmed his worst suspicions. The twins had encountered the orcs while unarmed and after falling into the underground river. While he knew the twins well enough to believe that the situation was not entirely hopeless, he did not want to lie to Estel. He cared too much for the little human and Estel deserved the truth.

He shifted slowly, releasing Estel. They could not stay here much longer. For one thing Legolas was still injured and could not protect Estel as well as he wanted to. The twins were still missing and there were orcs roaming the Hidden Valley. None of these obstacles would be solved by staying in their hiding spot. But Estel was crying. After his earlier struggle all energy seemed to have left him to be replaced by a despondent despair.

Legolas was not sure what he could do to calm the crying boy, but he had to try: "Estel, please, you need to calm down. We do not know what happened to Elladan and Elrohir. They are strong and too clever to be overwhelmed by orcs. You have to believe that they are alright!"

Estel moved slightly away and turned to look back at Legolas. "But there are so many of the orcs and Dan and Ro had no weapons! You saw it, too. The shirt had blood on it and how did the orc get it, if not from Elrohir?"

"Elrohir might have lost it, when he fell into the cave," Legolas tried to reason, though he knew himself that he was grasping at straws.

"But where are they?" Estel asked, not convinced, looking at Legolas with pleading eyes.

Legolas wished with all his heart that he could give Estel an answer, but he had none to offer. "I do not know where your brothers are, Estel. I am sorry," Legolas said and then steeling himself for the truth he had to utter, continued: "No matter how much I would like to, we are in no position to help them."

He watched Estel's eyes fill with tears again, but forged ahead anyway: "The best thing we can do now is try to get around the orcs to reach Rivendell. I know some hidden paths that will lead us back. There we can get help. Your father's warriors will destroy the orcs and search for your brothers."

Surprisingly, Estel gave a nod at that and Legolas watched as Estel struggled to rein in his tears, drawing a shaky but determined breath. His little friend was trying so hard to be brave and it broke Legolas' heart. No child should have to suffer through this much fear, should have to face such uncertainty over the fate of their loved ones. A wave of protectiveness welled up inside Legolas and he hugged Estel again, offering some of his own strength, his unwavering support. They would get out of this, and they would find the twins..

A few minutes later, the little human had regained his composure and in silent agreement, they began to move. Together they carefully crawled out of their hole and crept through the foliage. With every step, the pain Legolas felt was getting worse and he wobbled after Estel as the human reached the edge of the river. He was about to tell Estel to wait, when the boy suddenly shouted something Legolas did not catch and disappeared from view.

-o0o-

"Berandir, pick six elves and stay here. Stay hidden. I will take the rest around to the waterfall. We will fan out and engage the orcs – starting with their …", Glorfindel curled his lips in distaste, "hunting party. As we advance, we will herd them towards you – do not engage them directly! Pick them off with your bows using the cover of the trees. Anyone that escapes will be running straight towards the coming reinforcements." He glanced hard at the young elf, letting his commands sink in. Berandir was not new to command, but he did have a tendency of looking for trouble on the battlefield. Asking him to willingly let the enemy escape if necessary was bound to strike a nerve.

There was no sign of debate or questions.

"If there is any sign of the twins, Estel or Legolas, we will find it", he added, reinforcing their secondary goal for all of their morale.

A solemn nod was his only reply before Berandir selected his elves with practiced, efficient ease. The rest followed Glorfindel at the gesture of his hands, silent as wolves on the prowl. They cut a wide bend around the spring meadow, now drenched in darkness and populated by black monstrosities, and came towards the waterfall from the northeast. The rush of the clean waters over cragged rocks was loud, and in this starless night, hung with the shadows of doom, it held none of its usual merry tinkle. Even the stream held its breath, refusing to sing while the orcs sullied its waters.

Still, when they got to the falls, they saw the first positive sign of the night. The orcs had turned around – empty handed. They were returning to the main host beside the former pool, their voices harsh in contempt and anger. Glorfindel smiled grimly at their obvious malcontent, relieved beyond measure that obviously the orcs had not found what they had been looking for. He could only hope that that meant that all four of his charges had escaped the dark claws of the vile beasts.

But any thoughts of the missing elves and human would have to wait. If these orcs returned to the meadow the attack on Rivendell would commence; and there were too many for Berandir and the others to take on alone. They would need to attack them first, thin the numbers, sow confusion.

He snuck along the edge of the stream, down the steep embankment that bordered the waterfall, intent on not letting the orcs out of his sight. They needed to be waylaid before they could reach …

There was a sudden sound behind him, a scraping of foliage and dirt. Glorfindel whirled around, grasping for his sword – only to be met with the last sight he had expected.

"Glorfy!" Estel's dark curls bobbed as he hurled himself forward into his arms. A big sob shook the small frame in his arms, but to his credit, Estel did not cry. He clung to Glorfindel as for dear life for only a moment before pushing against his chest, moving back so he could make eye contact. There was raw fear in his silver eyes, fear and despair, and an overwhelming urgency.

"Glorfy!" he repeated, his words stumbling over each other in his rush to have them said. "Legolas is injured, and Dan and Ro are missing, and I think they are injured, too. Please, Glorfy, we have to find them!"

Movement behind Estel drew Glorfindel's attention and he saw Legolas emerge from behind a row of low shrubs that had effectively concealed him from sight. Glorfindel did not need to be a healer, nor Estel's words, to see that Legolas was injured. The prince seemed hardly capable of remaining upright much longer. His posture spoke of pain and his natural glow was barely perceptible. His eyes, however, shone with a fierce determination – or sheer stubbornness – a look that Glorfindel had seen before in the young prince's father. The line of Oropher would never easily admit defeat. He nodded towards the prince, a note of thanks for keeping Estel safe.

It was a relief to have found the young human and the prince, but Glorfindel's thoughts were reeling. The twins were missing, Legolas needed a healer, Estel needed to be protected and with every second he stood here the orcs were moving closer to their comrades, closer to a possibly fatal attack on Rivendell.

"Glorfy?" Estel's voice was small, questioning. He had noted the seneschal's moment of hesitation.

Glorfindel could not afford those. Only action would serve him now.

He squeezed Estel's shoulder and mustered an encouraging smile. "We will find your brothers, Estel. But first you need to take Legolas to the healers. Feriel will guide you but I need your help to make sure Legolas makes it home safe."

At his words, Feriel stepped forward, smoothly taking Estel's hand into her own, asking him about Legolas' condition in a clever bid to keep him occupied and focused. She, as Glorfindel, understood that they could not lose time to a debate about whether or not Estel could stay to "save his brothers". Everyone still remembered Estel's last ill-fated attempt to do so.

His eyes met Legolas' and the prince nodded once, grasping the situation and the need for haste, before he turned to let himself be led back towards their horses, safely out of the way of further harm, hopefully.

But Glorfindel could see the hesitance in Estel's steps, could see him slow. He knew the boy was but a moment away from arguing, from pleading his case, and so the seneschal turned resolutely the other way, marching off south, his remaining warriors moving closer to adjust their numbers now that Feriel had left.

Words drifted back to him, Feriel beckoning Estel to keep walking, to make haste - and finally the sound of his human footsteps moving away. Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief. Estel was safe, Legolas would be cared for. And he would worry about the twins after he destroyed the orcs that threatened their home. Drawing his sword, he set off to do just that.

-o0o-

Elladan took a step forward, placing himself between his twin and the advancing orcs, consciously mirroring what Elrohir had done before. But then he had been the one injured and unsteady on his feet - and his own infirmity had cost him dearly. A nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Elrohir pointed out that he was still very much injured, but he paid it no heed. It was of little consequence. He would not let these foul creatures lay their hands on his twin again.

His grip on the orc dagger in his hand was steady, his thoughts sharply focused for the first time since he had woken in this underground nightmare. The rush of the impending fight had cleared away the cobwebs that had clogged his brain until now.

If the orcs thought they would face an easy victory, they were sorely mistaken.

But apparently they did. Six of the burly creatures slowly peeled out of the darkness, blurry to his eyes but unmistakable in their hideousness. Only six.

Elladan recognized the brute who had caught him by the neck before, the leader if he was reading the beasts' body language correctly.

"Well here we are, fishies," the Uruk was rasping, its voice rough from what Elladan hoped were the aftereffects of his attack on the orc's throat earlier. "No way out."

The uruk's drawl made his skin crawl and his knife hand itch with the overwhelming urge to ram the weapon into its exposed throat. The orcs had known all along that they would end up here, had led him and his brother like lambs to slaughter, always certain that there was no escape for their prey.

Well, let them come. This lamb had teeth.

The orc snorted audibly, disappointed with the lack of a reaction to its gloating. Almost lazily it gestured for its orcs to rush forward. "Get them."

The first had only made two steps before it fell dead.

Its eyes were wide in shocked surprise as it grasped uselessly at the wide gash across its throat, trying and failing to stop the gush of its own black blood pouring forth. Its companions hesitated, clearly they had not expected Elladan to go on the offensive, nor to be quite so dangerous still.

"GET. THEM!" the lead orc roared, its voice reverberating from the walls and tunnel of the ceiling, setting Elladan's ears ringing. He winced at the sudden pain that lanced through his head anew, but he was ready when the uruks rushed forward.

Ducking under the swing of a crude scimitar with barbed edges, he came in deep under the guard of one of the monsters. His upward stroke found the soft spot under the orc's arm, vulnerable and vital. The orc knife in his hand bit deep, deep enough to severe arteries and sinews even if he did not hit the heart of the vile beast. Ripping the knife free once more, he took two steps back, aware of the danger even a mortally wounded adversary posed.

His feet were splashing in the edges of the underground pool, but for now he was out of range of any of the uruks. As the second beast fell, another bellowed a shout of rage and hurtled after him, closely followed by one of its comrades. Elladan twisted to the side, avoiding another black blade striking at him, but in the water he was too slow to evade the follow-through. The sharp sting of torn skin accompanied the orc's fist connecting with his head, leaving long scratches of its filthy claw across his cheek and sending him reeling. Elladan stumbled. Stars exploded across his vision, and he fell forward. His hands met icy water, swirling viciously in the depths beneath the still surface of the black pool.

His instincts shouted at him to move, to stand before a blackened blade came crashing down on his head, but his muscles were painfully slow to respond. The ground was moving. The world was spinning. The tunnel was a maelstrom of sound; Splashes close by, from the orcs hunting him, the harsh sound of the beasts' breathing, the dull thuds of bodies locked in combat from where the last orcs must be fighting Elrohir…

Elrohir! The thought of his twin brought new life to his tired muscles, a new urgency. He had meant to keep the uruks away from his ailing brother – and he had failed.

Snapping his head up he saw the advancing uruk, now right beside him, its visage twisted with vile glee as it raised its sword for a killing stroke. A stroke that never fell. Faster than the orc could follow he sprang up, burrowing the knife he still held up to its hilt in the beast's ribcage. A second was all it took to wrestle the orc's sword from its surprised grasp, another to step past it to attack its luckless comrade. Placing his remaining strength into a wide swing of the sword he took that uruk's head clean off its shoulders. Two more seconds. His chest heaved with the exertion and the ground spun lazily but all that mattered was Elrohir. With roaming eyes he searched the blackness of the tunnel, trying to force his eyes to focus, to lead him to his twin.

There! Elrohir was locked in combat with the leader of the foul orcs in the black center of the pool. Water was lapping at their legs as they grappled for control, their bodies so close together that to Elladan's blurry vision it was hard to say where one of them ended and the other began. Only Elrohir's faint glow helped him be certain which of the dark shapes was his brother – and it was much too faint.

Water splashed around his feet as he stumbled from the pool, hurrying along its edge to reach his twin's side, to help. His feet caught on something on the ground and he realized he had stumbled over the last of the orcs, dead on the ground, its neck broken – Elrohir's handiwork.

A splash and Elladan tore his gaze back up to the pool, cursing his moment of inattention. Elrohir and the orc were gone. Only a ripple in the pool of black remained. Elladan held his breath for a heartbeat. Then a second.

They did not reappear.

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

-o0o-

Glorfindel signed to his warriors to move forward. Like wraiths they slid through the low brushes, barely bending the stems of the meadow flowers as they closed the ring about their foes. The orcs would never see them coming.

His anger was burning, bright and fierce, unleashed by the terror he had seen in Estel's eyes. Restless nights full of horrors would come of this day for the little adan and Glorfindel intended to let the orcs pay for each and every sleepless night they had caused. He still remembered the aftermath of Estel's last ill-fated adventure in the woods three years ago and his heart wept for the pain that encounter with orcs had brought, the innocence that had been lost that day.

But then as now, he knew that Estel's biggest fear was not the vile creatures that defiled their valley, it was a fear for his brothers' safety that truly lay at the heart of his distress. A fear that Glorfindel shared, though he could do nothing about it now. First the orcs would pay, then he would find Elrond's elflings and drag them home by their ears.

Focusing anew on his anger and on the vile beasts that had incited it, he tightened his grip on his sword. He was making a quick headcount, picking his targets with barely conscious thought, his mind already sketching the best approaches to the battle, the moves that might prove most effective.

"Aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima!" he shouted the old battle cry of Imladris and heard it echoed from his warriors as they rushed forward, unsheathed swords glistening in the dark of night. Ithil had risen and was yet lingering beneath the clouds as if to watch their battle and light their path to victory.

The orcs were taken utterly by surprise. With their chieftain newly returned they had been gathering for their own attack, mustering as best as the disorganized creatures could into something resembling lines. Now their rearguard was the first to feel the bitter bite of elvish steel.

Glorfindel ran his sword clean through the chest of the first uruk in his path, then transferred his momentum to the orc, pushing it off the blade to land in a crumpled heap on the ground. A quick step to the side and he raised his sword to block the swing of a dark scimitar. He caught the weapon on his crossguard and a flick of the wrist was all it took to tear the crude blade from its owners' grasp. The orc was still looking dumbfounded when Glorfindel brought his sword back around in an arc that took the creature's head clean off.

There was no use in holding back. Their attack had to be quick and efficient – and terrifying. With the numbers still against him and his warriors they needed to incite at least some of the orcs to flee, to abandon the battlefield and their comrades.

And they did.

Never taking his eyes off his next target, Glorfindel nevertheless heard the disarray amongst the orcs, the bellowed orders, the curses spat after deserters further up the meadow. The next orc had his back half turned, caught in fatal indecision between facing the wrath of his leader or that of Glorfindel. It chose poorly.

Its black body landed in a heap on the ground, its blood filling the deep scores in the soft soil its comrades had so freshly dug. Glorfindel pressed forward. There were still too many orcs engaging his warriors. A strangled scream sounded somewhere to his right, an elven voice. He turned to look, noting with relief that two other warriors were already at Mundil's side, keeping the advancing orcs at bay. The beasts could smell weakness, but they would find none here.

He subtly altered his course, swerving left to reach his warriors, cutting through the last bastion of orcs that stood holding the center of the meadow. These were not cowed. Death shone in their eyes and the grip on their weapons was hard. They attacked as soon as he came close enough for their scimitars' reach. Glorfindel hewed off the first weapon arm that stabbed at him, black blood spraying over his clothes and dripping from his sword. But there were more of the orcs, another took the first's place, stabbing again and it was all Glorfindel could do to twist aside, avoiding being skewered like a boar. Another attacked from the side and even as Glorfindel drew his dagger to parry its blow, he felt the sharp sting of metal cut into his other side. He was surrounded.

His body reacted on instinct alone, twisting away from the hot pain of the wound in his side, straight towards the orc whose blade Glorfindel still held at bay with his dagger. He lunged. Changing the stumble into an attack he threw his body weight behind the push, forcing the orc's scimitar wide, exposing the beast's chest to a deadly blow with his own dagger. The uruk stumbled back and sank to the ground. Seeing the opening, Glorfindel left his dagger behind in the beasts' chest and sprang forward, over his dying foe and out of the circle of orcs.

Something cut through the air next to his face before he regained sure footing, but as he turned the nearest uruks sank to the ground, studded with arrows. More projectiles were falling all around him, hissing through the air and dropping the remaining orcs with the deadly precision of the elves, their aim aided by the low light of the coming dawn. He had not even noticed how much time had passed.

Glorfindel looked up and saw the ridge at the western edge of the meadow lined with his warriors, Nelledir at their head. The reinforcements had arrived. The fight was won.

Dawn had brought victory.

The sun would not crest the Misty Mountains for some time, but with every second the light was growing. And its renewed victory over the darkness in the sky was mirrored on the meadow below.

Glorfindel pressed a hand over the wound in his side and hissed low at the pain it brought. But the cut was shallow. It would not hinder him much. Retrieving his dagger from the chest of his last opponent, Glorfindel hurried to where Mundil was being helped back to their horses by two of their comrades. His eyes roamed over the battlefield as he followed them, but there was no sign of elven bodies among the dark shapes of their foes. Only exhausted fighters and a few wounded warriors, making their way slowly back to the line of their reinforcements.

Glorfindel sent a prayer of thanks to the Valar for watching over his warriors in this fight. They would take care of the wounded, but there would be no need for mourning in Rivendell.

At least not if he could find Elladan and Elrohir.

In his mind, he was already dividing the reinforcements, forming small groups that could search the surroundings, scout the stream. He would need a larger group to go beneath ground, with torches …

His thoughts drew to a halt as he crested the ridge and came upon the makeshift gathering spot of his warriors. Just a few meters to the side lay the bodies of the orcs, most felled by white-fletched arrows, cut down as they tried to flee the battlefield. They had not made it far. But more disturbing than the black bodies, that would be dealt with before the last of the warriors returned to Rivendell, was the sight of his own injured elves.

Mundil had already been seen to, a white bandage wound around his head and more linen shone through beneath his tunic. Four more of his warriors were being tended for wounds of various sizes, but his initial impression still held true, they would all return home today.

A small commotion at the edge of the camp drew his attention – Nelledir was lecturing a less than agreeable patient. Surprised, Glorfindel noticed that his target was no one other than Berandir.

"Berandir, I thought I had told you not to engage the enemy directly." Glorfindel said, stepping over and noticing the large gash running across the young elf's chest. Even now one of his comrades was binding it with quick efficient moves, but it would need stitches once they were back in Rivendell.

"That is what I have been told," Nelledir agreed, sounding less than pleased, but the target of their reproach remained stoically unapologetic.

Berandir's eyes were dark, filled with a lingering anger as they drifted over to the large bulk of a dead uruk. "That one called for a more .. personal touch," Berandir said, his voice grim. And as Glorfindel's eyes fell on the light-coloured scraps of fabric haphazardly stuffed in the orc's pocket, he understood. The fine material was unmistakably elvish. His own heart sank at the implications: this was not taken from the battlefield, nor had it been in the orc's possession long. No, those scraps were his first sign of the twins, and they did not bode well.

With great effort he repressed the fear that rose in his chest, forcing himself to remain focused. He would find Elladan and Elrohir. But until he could organize the search, he was still the commander of the troops – and one of his warriors had overstepped the line between reckless and foolish.

He sighed audibly and turned to Berandir. "The Valar protect me from you children of the Third Age and your rashness! You are each as bad as the other." The younger elf had the good grace to lower his eyes to avoid Glorfindel's anger, but his posture still spoke of quiet rebellion. Glorfindel sighed again. He had had this discussion or one similar to it too many times with the twin sons of Elrond and knew that the rebuke would do little good.

Berandir was a good friend of the twins, and beneath the smoldering anger in his eyes stood a stark uncertainty over their fate. Glorfindel changed tack. Placing a hand on Berandir's freshly bound shoulder he said more softly: "Getting yourself killed will not help Elladan and Elrohir, it will only prevent you from joining the search party to look for them."

He turned to Nelledir then. "Nelledir, you are in charge of the injured. Return them to Rivendell with all haste."

He rose and called to more of his elves, everyone that had not been in direct combat with the orcs, everyone that would still have the energy left for a possibly long search of the meadow - above and below ground. With practiced ease he allocated them to groups, divided the terrain, assigned runners and gave clear instructions as to their time frame. He told them to be aware of the danger of further orcs still lurking nearby, to be ready for a new conflict. He hoped it would not come to that – but then, he hoped for a lot of things.

As the groups fanned out at his command he turned, ready to lead the largest unit to the edge of the pool and to whatever lay beneath its collapsed remains. He almost collided with Nelledir.

"Nelledir? What are you still doing here?"

"Waiting for you to return to Rivendell with us." His second-in-command was carefully dispassionate, but his gaze pointedly lingered on the bloody cut in Glorfindel's side.

Glorfindel scowled. He did not have time for this. He needed to find Elladan and Elrohir, needed to return them to their waiting father, needed to make sure for himself that they were alright, that they had escaped another reckless venture intact.

"Nelledir," he growled, the warning clear in his tone, but Nelledir did not back down.

"With all due respect, my lord." He replied, infuriatingly calm. "You put me in charge of the injured. You are injured. I am in charge."

He held Glorfindel's gaze unflinchingly. Nelledir was not easily cowed. He had been a warrior of Imladris since its founding in the second age, had fought alongside Elrond on the plains of Dagorlad. Glorfindel himself had named him his second-in command.

And beyond that, Nelledir was right. As much as it annoyed Glorfindel to admit, every wound inflicted by an orc weapon bore the risk of poison. To see a healer was not only prudent, it was his own standing order to all his warriors.

Nelledir must have seen the change in his posture. "If you escort the wounded home, I will oversee the search. If Elladan and Elrohir are still here, then we will find them."

Glorfindel nodded, defeated. "Very well." It irked him to have to leave, to not be here when they found the twins or at least a trace of them, but he knew that he had to see reason. He could hardly berate Berandir for his recklessness and then show the same folly.

He turned back towards the horses and, gently asking Belroch to carry him once more despite his failure to fulfill his promise, mounted the gray stallion. The wounded followed him, those that could ride borne by their horses, while others were drawn on stretchers behind.

They would return to Rivendell victorious, but empty-handed. And despite their destruction of the orcs, despite the fact that Legolas and Estel were likely already back in Rivendell, he did not look forward to bringing this report to Elrond.

-o0o-

Blind panic gripped Elladan, erasing all thought but the overwhelming need to reach his twin, to find him in the inky waters. Something barely perceptible flashed across their bond but he could not identify it, did not dare focus on the weakening of their connection. No, what mattered was finding Elrohir.

He took a deep breath and dived.

Instantly, the current grabbed him. The same undercurrent that he had felt inside the pool earlier was much stronger here, overpowering, irresistible. In moments it had grabbed him, dragging him deeper, ever deeper into the black dark of the world. For all the seeming serenity of the black pool, under its surface the river was still raging, continuing its mad rush underground, far from light or air. And it held him fast.

Within moments, his chest was burning, screaming at him to breathe, to find a surface, an air pocket, something. But there was nothing. Only the raging waters and irresistible darkness. Black spots crowded the corners of his vision, expanding, merging, covering his entire field of vision. All was black.

His back struck stone. The impact jarred him to a sudden halt, and pain exploded between his temples. He gasped, swallowing water, but the white flash of pain had cleared his vision and his head.

There was light overhead, impossible as that may seem, real light. His body was failing, and his legs felt like lead but he had to move, had to make one last push.

His head broke the surface and he greedily gulped down a breath of air, only to cough violently as his lungs rid themselves of the water he had inhaled before. Great shudders racked his body, but the river was shallower here, slower, and he dragged himself to shore, his chest heaving as he forced more air into his starved lungs. He took a deep breath, then another, before forcing his eyes open and looking around.

The river had found its way to another underground chamber, this one lit with faint daylight that filtered in through cracks in the wall and ceiling, alighting on crystal veins in buff sandstone walls. Even the air had changed, it seemed more serene, more wholesome, as he breathed it in deeply.

His next breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on something at the river's edge. Deposited there like so much ballast – Elrohir and the orc.

He rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside his twin. One glance was enough to confirm that the orc was dead - had been since before it started the dark ride in the underground stream it seemed. Its eye was neatly impaled with a small black knife. Not that it mattered how the orc had died, all that mattered was that his brother was alive.

In the light of day, Elrohir was deathly pale, his lips tinged blue, his black hair a wet curtain that hid half his face; but he was breathing. Elladan gently lifted his brother's head into his lap and stroked the black, tangled tresses out of his face, rejoicing in the moment of peace, in the warm glow of their bond.

It lasted only a heartbeat.

Elrohir's next breath was a strangled gasp, his body shuddering under the strain of pumping air into uncooperative lungs. Beneath his questing fingers and under burning skin, Elladan felt a pulse that was much too fast and too weak for comfort. The poison was still at work, still trying to finish what the orcs and the river had failed to accomplish.

Elladan grit his teeth. He shuttered his worries, overriding them with the cool, steady calm of necessity. They had to get back home – now. He would carry Elrohir if he had to.

As he shifted so that he would be able to rise, Elrohir stirred. His twin hissed softly as he opened his gray eyes and shut them instantly against the daylight that flooded the tunnel. It was still dim, but compared to the complete darkness that had surrounded them before, their new surroundings were eye-wateringly bright.

Elladan waited and was rewarded with a more careful squint, Elrohir blinking a few times to get his eyes accustomed to the light.

"Dan," he breathed, as his eyes focused on him.

Elladan nodded, but stopped as the movement brought a sting of pain. "Yes," he answered aloud instead. "You cannot leave me behind that easily, brother." He aimed for a light tone, but even to his own ears he sounded strained, worry for Elrohir leaking through the tight control he thought he had on it.

There was a brief moment of confusion on Elrohir's face as he must be piecing together his last memories, trying to make sense of Elladan's words. His eyes roamed the ceiling of the cave above before coming back to rest on Elladan's own.

"Where are we?"

Elladan raised his head to look around, for the first time really pausing to ask that question himself. All his concern after getting out of the river had been on Elrohir, but now he noticed anew the freshness of the air, the softness of the light as it streamed through the cracks. His heart lifted as he realized he recognized the buff stone of this tunnel, recognized the bend in the gurgling river that appeared here from the very heart of the mountains. It would follow this tunnel as a merry stream for a while before plunging into the depths of the Hidden Valley to join the rushing waters of the Bruinen.

He smiled as he looked back down at Elrohir and said: "We are almost home."

-o0o-

The first rays of sunlight were peaking over the mountains surrounding the Hidden Valley and the Last Homely House was bathed in the orange hues of a beautiful sunrise. After a long, adventurous night, day had returned to Rivendell.

The new dawn should have brought relief and signaled the passing of the dangers of yesterday. However, to Estel danger was not over until his brothers had returned home. While he and Legolas had made it back a few hours ago, there was no word of Elladan and Elrohir as of yet. No messenger from Glorfindel's group of warriors had come to report that the twins had been found. That of course could mean many things: It could simply mean that they had not been found. Or that the search party had found them, but the twins were badly wounded.

Or his brothers were dead and Glorfindel wanted to tell them himself. If the worst had happened surely the seneschal would not let one of his messengers bring the news to Elrond.

Estel's head was spinning with the options, as he ran each scenario over and over in his mind. It all came down to this, however: he did not know. All he could do was wait and he hated waiting with great passion. It reminded him of the incident three years ago, when the twins had been missing as well. Then he had gone after them. Alas, this time he knew he would not be able to sneak away - his Adar was surely watching for that. Beyond that, he did not want to leave Legolas while the prince was injured. There was no way around it, he was trapped. He could do nothing but wait and worry. And feel guilty.

Estel was sitting on one of the beds in the Healing Hall, across the room from where his father was still treating Legolas' injuries. Elrond had been working on the wound on the prince's back for a while now, which only told Estel about the severity of the injury. That Legolas had been so badly injured wasn't Estel's fault, he knew. Legolas himself had said that a not-yet-healed wound had reopened in the collapse of the pools. Estel had not even known of the injuries.

However, that was not what he was feeling guilty about. By not keeping quiet and attracting the orcs' attention Estel had made things that much worse for his friend. Instead of resting and waiting for the search party to find them, Legolas had been forced to run, even to carry him for a while. Then they had been stuck in that dirty hole and Legolas had still been unable to rest, as he had to take care of a distraught human boy. That he had been forced to do all that with an open, bleeding gash in his back, made Estel cringe. Worse, it made him realize what a foolish child he still was.

He did not want to lose Legolas' friendship, but why would the Mirkwood prince want to remain friends with a helpless, frightened child that could not even keep quiet to save his own life? It may be a new dawn, but this day could be the day that Estel not only lost his brothers but also his best friend. Estel did not know what he would do if that was the case. He could feel fresh tears fill his eyes and turned his face away from Legolas and his adar. He didn't want them to see him cry. He was desperately trying to be brave like Legolas had said, but it was just so hard.

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

-o0o-

Legolas winced in pain and tried to keep very, very still. He was lying on his stomach, while Lord Elrond was carefully sewing his wound shut. Elrond was a formidable healer and worked quietly and efficiently. Normally he would be grateful, but now the silence left him too much room to think.

When arriving back in Rivendell, Legolas had barely been able to stand on his own two feet. He still remembered the mortification of having to be helped off his horse. He would just as soon forget it ever happened. In the courtyard he had watched Estel being reunited with Elrond. Among all the pain and confusion that heart-warming scene had been the one good thing to happen this night. Estel had thrown himself at his adar, who had caught him and held him tight. Legolas had seen the relief in Elrond's features that at least his youngest son was home even while Estel silently cried into his adar's shoulder. After the dangers and the tension of the last night, the young human simply had not been able to hold back anymore. Legolas could not blame Estel for it.

After a few moments of silent support, Elrond had quickly looked Estel over for injuries. Satisfied that he was unharmed, he had picked up his son and carried him over to Legolas. Scanning him with his trained eyes, Elrond had quickly perceived Legolas' bad physical shape. The Lord of Imladris had immediately ordered that Legolas be helped to the healing wing and followed behind them with Estel still in his arms.

Once there he had put Estel on one of the beds and ordered healers to bring food and tea for Estel to calm the boy down. Then Elrond had turned to him and had given him his full healer's attention. While the Lord of Imladris had carefully cleaned his wound, Legolas had summarized the events of yesterday and their close encounter with the orcs. Legolas had felt awful that he could not tell Elrond where the twins were, could not offer anything else but the slim hope that they were safe, despite the bloodied rags the orc had borne that spoke of the opposite. He hated bringing anyone bad news, but especially to anyone in this family. They had been through too much already.

Elrond had accepted his words with a nod and had thanked him for keeping Estel safe in a low voice. Elrond's calm demeanor even with Elladan and Elrohir still unaccounted for only increased Legolas' respect for the Lord of Imladris. There was a reason Elrond was such a wise and formidable elven lord.

There was a rustle of movement behind him as Elrond placed the suturing materials aside, having finished sewing the wound on his back. He covered it with an odd smelling ointment and asked Legolas to sit up carefully, before dressing his wound in clean bandages. As Elrond bandaged his torso, Legolas' eyes fell on the quiet boy sitting across the room. He knew the human must be exhausted and it worried him that Estel was clearly still refusing to lie down and sleep. The boy was also much too quiet for his liking. How much damage had their encounter with the orcs done to the boy's normally so bright spirit? Legolas' heart wept for him, for the damage caused by the evil they had encountered this night.

And it was not even Estel's first confrontation with the cruel beasts. Legolas knew that Estel's encounter with orcs three years ago, when they had met for the first time, had already left its mark on the boy. He hoped this would not make things worse, but feared that it would. Especially with the twins still missing. For this newest misadventure to become no more than a distant memory, Elladan and Elrohir needed to be found - alive and well. If they were not… Legolas did not want to even think about what that would do to his friend; or to Estel's father and the whole of Rivendell.

Nor about what it would do to him. He had known Elladan and Elrohir for hundreds of years, considered them some of his closest friends. He did not want to imagine his life without those two trouble-makers in it. The twins had taught him much, about fighting, healing, but most importantly about enjoying life, about laying down the mantle of royalty every once in a while and truly enjoying himself. His visits to Rivendell, less frequent than he would like them to be though they were, were rare gifts of tranquility, of peace from the ever encroaching darkness - except of course for the days when they invariably stumbled across another random, unforeseen danger.

And with Estel's arrival in Rivendell, the feeling of joy and tranquility in the Hidden Valley had only increased. There was something pure about him, something true - and it called Legolas to him like a siren's song, like the call of a kindred spirit.

Legolas focused his attention back on Estel, but the boy had turned away from him. Legolas could see his shoulders shaking and although Estel tried to muffle the sounds he made, he could easily hear that Estel was crying. Legolas silently vowed that no matter what happened to the twins, he would always be Estel's friend, would always take care of the human.

He longed to walk over to Estel and soothe the boy's worries and fears; to remind him that as long as proven otherwise hope still remained. However, Legolas was certain that Lord Elrond would not appreciate it if Legolas reopened his wounds yet again by walking too soon. And he did not wish to intrude. The elven lord had only just finished putting his bandages in place. Now Elrond's back was turned to him while he sorted out his healer's utensils before, surely, turning to his son to console Estel.

-o0o-

Elrond sighed as he cleaned his healing supplies with silent care. Legolas' wound was naturally worse after what the young elf had been through, but fortunately Elrond was certain he could still make a full recovery as long as he got enough rest. He would not need to send word, send grave news to Thranduil after all. When Legolas and Estel had first returned Elrond had not been so sure. Legolas had been beyond pale beneath the dirt and blood that clung to him in dry patches. With the healing salves applied and the wound once again shut, things looked much better.

But now, bereft of a task to occupy his mind, Elrond found that his own worries returned in full force. He only had a preliminary report from Legolas, but he knew that with orcs invading Rivendell, the twins were in grave danger. It was not the first time that he was left to worry about his sons, unable to intervene, to protect them as he wished. However, even after hundreds of years it never got any easier. That the danger was so close to their home only made it worse.

He sighed, trying to remind himself to focus on the bright side, to believe that all was not yet lost. At least Estel had returned home safely and by some miracle his youngest son appeared unharmed. At least physically, he amended as the sound of Estel's quiet crying reached his ears, his mental state was another question entirely. The small hitches of breath and silent sobs coming from his youngest son broke his heart.

After washing the blood off his hands, Elrond could finally walk over to his son, sit down beside him and draw him onto his lap. Almost immediately, Estel turned his head into his robes, hiding his silent cries in the velvet material as he nestled his head under Elrond's chin. He hugged Estel tight to show him that he was not alone, would never be alone, trying to convey how very much loved he was.

Minutes passed in their silent embrace until, eventually, Estel's breathing evened out and his shaking shoulders fell still. As even the last hiccups stopped, Elrond hoped that his boy had fallen asleep, but as he moved to lay his son down on the bed, Estel struggled against him and sat right back up.

"No ada," he protested, "I will not sleep until Dan and Ro have returned. I cannot." Estel looked at him with such earnest eyes that Elrond decided not to oppose him yet. Eventually his energy would run out and he would fall asleep, but somehow Elrond hoped that Elladan and Elrohir would return before that happened. Estel would rest so much better knowing his brothers were safe. So would he, for that matter, and likely the Prince of Mirkwood as well.

Elrond looked over at Legolas, and found him looking at look on the young elf's face almost drew a sigh from him - he could see the rebellious glint in his eyes, the worry that would send him up and across the room to be with Estel as soon as Elrond had left the room. It was a noble cause, but would hardly be beneficial to his health.

Deciding to prevent having to patch Legolas up yet again, Elrond simply picked up Estel and carried him across the room to deposit him next to the prince. At least the look of relief from the young elf, the silent nod of thanks was worth his effort.

Elrond pulled over a stool and sat next to the bed, while Estel scrambled close to Legolas' side almost immediately, careful not to touch his wound, but seeking the contact none-the-less. Elrond smiled inwardly at the obvious bond between these two. Their friendship was something to be cherished.

"Ada, what if Dan and Ro don't ever come back?" Estel asked a few moments later, his voice small, worry written all over his face.

Elrond looked his son in the eyes and spoke truthfully: "Estel, we are all worried for Elladan and Elrohir, but I believe in my heart that they will be alright and will be back with us before long. Although they have at times taken their time, they have always made it home in the end. This time will be no different." Elrond reassured all three of them.

And when he closed his eyes, he could feel the certainty. He truly was convinced that his older sons would return. What he did not dare to consider, however, was the state that they would return in. Over the centuries he had had to heal Elladan and Elrohir of many wounds and injuries. Fighting orcs always left a mark on them, even if they escaped the fight physically unscathed. They were great warriors, trained by Glorfindel himself and could handle themselves in a fight, as they had proven time and again. But it was the mental strain that worried him. Any encounter with the foul beast awakened dark memories of the worst time his family had lived through. And he knew that despite his best efforts, despite the calm and tranquility of Imladris, the twins were still suffering from what had been done to their mother so long ago. They could not find solace in the knowledge that she dwelled in the West, healed of body and spirit. Only recently, with the arrival of their little Estel, had the darkness receded in his sons' memories.

Estel truly had been a blessing for his family, just as he seemed to be for Legolas. It only made Elrond more grateful for Estel's safe return. They would need Estel's infectious enthusiasm and charm that could brighten anyone's day. He brought so much joy to all of them.

But Estel needed them just as much. Elrond did not want to imagine what the loss of his brothers would do to Estel's spirit. No, the twins had to be alright or at least alright enough to make it home, so Elrond could patch them up once more. And they would be, yes, it was just a matter of time.

Hopefully that time would be shortened considerably by his seneschal. If anyone could find the twins in the broken pools it would be Glorfindel. The golden-haired elf had sworn to protect his sons and Elrond trusted his friend to keep his promises.

-o0o-

It was still early in the morning. The sun had risen but a few hours ago, when Glorfindel and his elves returned to Imladris. With all the riding back and forth, it felt like a season had passed since he had left the Last Homely House. Had it really only been yesterday that the sons of Elrond and the prince of Mirkwood had set out for a nice picnic and failed to return? It felt so much longer.

They had had to take it easy on the way back, paying heed to the injuries of his warriors, and so it had taken them many hours to cross the same distance that Glorfindel had covered on Belroch's back in record time yesterday. But they were all exhausted. Glorfindel would take his warriors to the healing wing as soon as they reached the courtyard and make sure that they would get the rest they needed.

Then he would find Elrond and inquire after Legolas' wellbeing, before updating him on what had happened since Legolas and Estel had been sent back. Not that he had much to tell except that the orcs had been destroyed and his men were continuing to look for Elladan and Elrohir.

He could not give his lord the news he wanted, the news he knew Elrond needed to hear. Frustration surged within him. He felt a rush of annoyance at Nelledir return. Logically he knew that his second had been right to send him home but that did not make it any easier for Glorfindel to accept. He had sworn to protect Lord Elrond's sons! It was his duty to see them safe! Once his men were taken care of and he knew that his wound was not poisoned, he would ride out again and help in the search. Nothing would keep him from finding Elladan and Elrohir.

Finally they stopped at the stables and dismounted. After stroking Belroch's neck one last time in thanks, he gave the bridle over to one of the stable hands, entreating him to show special care for the grey stallion. He turned to order help for his men, but saw that it was no longer necessary.

Each wounded elf was already being attended by one of the healers and helped towards the healing wing. Apparently they had been expected and Rivendell had prepared well for possible injuries. Glorfindel was grateful. One less thing he had to worry about. He knew that such efficiency was most likely due to the chief counselor of Elrond's household. In the next moment his suspicion was confirmed, when he saw Erestor approach.

"Glorfindel, you have returned. What news of the twins?" the dark-haired elf asked without preamble.

"They are still unaccounted for. My warriors are searching for them as we speak."

Glorfindel saw surprise flicker across the other elf's face. However, after mustering Glorfindel with a critical gaze, all Erestor said was: "My respect for Nelledir increases. Surely it takes a brave elf to make you return home with the search still unfinished."

Glorfindel scowled back at Erestor. He would not dignify that comment with an answer.

"Where is Elrond?" he deflected.

"He is in the healing wing with Estel and Legolas. Will you go and bring him the news personally this time?" Erestor asked pointedly.

Growling, Glorfindel headed for the healing wing to do just that.

-o0o-

Weariness was dragging at him like a great weight. Every step felt more difficult than the last and Elrohir fought to simply keep walking, to keep going, to keep breathing. He only managed small gasps of air now, not enough to satisfy his burning lungs but just enough for the next step. Always the next step. That was all Elrohir was focusing on, as he trudged along, leaning heavily on Elladan for support. He barely saw the ground beneath his feet as it wavered and swayed, forming occasionally into strange patterns of light, or images of pure darkness taken straight from his nightmares.

Without his twin by his side he would have been lost in that darkness long ago, he knew. Despite the daylight that flooded the tunnel, that was increasing with every step they took towards the end of the passage, his own world only seemed to dim. Still he forced himself to struggle on, to return home, with Elladan's support and for his sake. He would not leave his twin, not now, not ever. Certainly not this close to home.

And they were close. Even in his weakened state he could feel the soft touch of Vilya's power in the air, guarding, sheltering, preserving. Their father's presence was like a feather-soft embrace, felt with the fëa rather than the body.

They were almost home.

"Just a little further," Elladan was saying, had been whispering, barely heard, for a while now. A monotonous litany meant to comfort and encourage, but now his words were stronger, filled with conviction. Dragging his head up to look ahead, Elrohir was almost dazzled by the bright light of the midday sun as it reflected off stone and water ahead. A light beige ledge, the end of the tunnel and the exit to the outside world. The stream plunged over the edge joyfully, spraying in the fresh air, painting a multi-colored curtain of rainbows.

They stepped up to the very edge of the ledge together and bathed in the sunshine and the beauty of the valley below. There ran the Bruinen in its wild, noisome dash through the confines of its deeply cut riverbed, a thin, elegant bridge crossing it at the end of a white path that seemed to glow in the high sun. And beyond it, the roofs of Imladris. Home.

His eyes roamed over the vaulted ceilings, tiled in gray, the pale green of the birches in spring leaves. The very sight seemed to chase the lingering flickers in his vision away and he drank it in like a man dying of thirst. After their long trek underground, surrounded only by rock and darkness, the sheer beauty of Imladris was a balm to his spirit.

He hesitated as he spotted a shape on one of the large balconies framing the main building. It could not be… But the dark curls were unmistakable. Relief flooded him so suddenly that Elrohir almost sank to his knees. Only Elladan's fast response, tightening the hold he had on him, held him upright.

"Ro?" Elladan's voice was urgent, concerned, but Elrohir barely heard him.

"Estel!", he whispered with what little breath he had to spare. Both an explanation and a reaffirmation for himself, saying it aloud as if to dare his hallucinations to contradict him.

Thank the Valar! Estel had returned home. Finally he would be able to put the fears over his young brother's safety aside, would have something to shield him from the haunting images brought by the poison in his veins. The images that had been a mirror of his crushing fears.

Next to him Elladan stiffened, his head turning from side to side as he scanned the valley below. "Estel?", he asked, "Are you sure?"

Dismayed, Elrohir realized that Elladan did not see their brother. It was a stark reminder that his twin was still affected by his own injury, his vision still blurry. Even now he was squinting against the light, the sun most likely causing a splitting headache, though Elladan did his best to shield their bond from any traces of his pain.

His weariness returning with the reminder of Elladan's injury, it was all Elrohir could do to nod in answer to his twin's question. But it seemed to be enough. Elladan gripped him tighter, taking more of his weight, ready to move on - down the steep slope into the valley below. Even if he had not seen their little brother, Elrohir's words had apparently been enough to give him new determination, a fresh surge of energy.

"Come," Elladan said. "It is our turn to return home. Estel is waiting."

-o0o-

tbc...

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

-o0o-

Estel was sitting cross-legged at the end of Legolas' bed and watched his friend sleep. He was dead tired himself and close to falling asleep, but he was still fighting the inevitable. It was just after noon. He had not slept all night but that mattered little to him, did certainly not convince him to close his eyes. He would be awake when Dan and Ro returned. He would be! He would see them with his own eyes, see that they were alright; however long it took.

Estel was sure that Legolas had had a similar plan, but his friend had not accounted for the sneakiness of his adar. The elven lord had given Legolas medicine against the pain but failed to tell the prince it would also put him to sleep. Legolas had been asleep within minutes. From what Estel understood, his adar had wanted to make sure that Legolas would not move about while he was busy with treating the newly arrived injured and couldn't watch over him. Secretly, Estel was sure Elrond would have liked to do the same with him, but since he wasn't injured, he didn't need to drink any concoctions- and he had refused the honeyed tea his ada had offered. He knew better than to drink anything in the Halls of Healing. Luckily his father had soon been too distracted to try to get him to sleep.

It was the only positive side he could see to Glorfindel's return. The golden-haired seneschal and some of his warriors had returned home hurt and without the twins. Glorfindel had reported that the orcs were taken care of, which was good, Estel admitted. But then he had continued by saying that the search for the twins continued. They had not found Dan and Ro.

His men would find them, Glorfindel had promised. With the orcs gone, they could go down into the caves and look for them, improving their chances. He had looked quite dejected that he hadn't been able to find Elladan and Elrohir himself. Not that Estel blamed him, Glorfindel had been wounded and Estel would much rather that the seneschal be treated for his injuries than be out there making it worse. Even finding his brothers could not be more important. Estel wanted all his friends and family to be home safe.

His adar and the other healers had been busy for the next few hours with healing the injured warriors. Estel had watched his adar work and mostly tried to stay out of the way. Sometimes he had brought bandages or fetched something for one of the healers. His father occasionally included him that way, because he wanted Estel to learn the art of healing. The excitement had helped keep him awake, too. Now though things had settled down and all the warriors had been treated and were resting in the healing wing. Estel could see them in the beds around him.

Only Glorfindel was still awake. The seneschal had left the room with Elrond and Erestor to discuss their next move. Estel had heard Glorfindel insist to lead another party to help with the search. He didn't know how Glorfy would convince his adar of that while he was hurt. Erestor was also arguing against it, because he saw no way a wounded warrior would be of help in the search. Estel hoped they could keep Glorfindel safe.

Since the three elves had left, a soothing quiet had settled over the room. Before he left, Elrond had put Estel in charge of watching over the sleeping warriors. At the moment they were all still sleeping. While he was determined to do as his adar had asked and watch the sleeping elves, it was getting harder and harder to stay awake with nothing to do but watch.

Estel decided that in order to stay awake, he needed to move. Therefore, he carefully slipped off Legolas' bed and tiptoed across the room towards the balcony. Maybe some fresh air would clear his mind. Once he reached the balcony, he scrambled onto the bench there and stood on top of it. He held his face up unto the sunshine and breathed in the sweet smelling air.

The valley of Rivendell stretched in front of him. It was beautiful with its homely house, ancient trees and waterfalls. He could see the cliffs surrounding the valley, the sparkling waterfalls falling from the mountains to feed the river. He had always felt safe here. It certainly looked like no evil could penetrate the Hidden Valley, even though the last two days had proven otherwise.

If only the twins would return, then they could all go back to being happy. Elrond's words from earlier had reassured him and given him hope. If his adar believed the twins would be alright, then surely they would be. His father had also reassured Estel that Legolas would make a full recovery, so really all that was missing were his brothers. But where were Elladan and Elrohir?

His eyes skimmed the cliff on the opposite site of the Bruinen and his breath caught. While he was too far away to be certain, he thought he saw something move up there. His breath hitched. Noone was supposed to be up there. Had the orcs come? He squinted, but his human eyes couldn't make out what it was that he saw. Slowly the dark tendrils of fear clasped him again, invading the quiet peace of his home. "Ada!", he called, only belatedly realizing that Elrond had left the room earlier and couldn't hear him.

A shadow fell on him nonetheless, not his father but Legolas. Startled, Estel exclaimed: "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"And you should be sleeping, Estel." Legolas grinned.

Suddenly remembering what he had seen, Estel turned and pointed at the cliff. "Legolas, there is something moving over there. Is it orcs? Did they come here?"

Legolas stepped next to Estel and looked towards the cliff. A moment later a smile blossomed on his face and he looked down at Estel: "No, it is the twins. It is Elladan and Elrohir."

"What?" Estel shouted, sudden joy replacing the fear in his heart: "Are you sure, Legolas? Are you really, really sure?"

Legolas nodded. Estel knew to trust the elven eye-sight. He gave a whoop of joy. His yelling drew the attention of Elrond, who had just returned to the Hall of Healing.

Excited, Estel rushed to his adar and told him the good news. Elrond stepped onto the balcony with Estel in tow and confirmed what Legolas had seen. Estwel could see the relief spreading over his father's face as Elrond turned to him: "Run to Glorfindel in the courtyard and tell him that your brothers have been found. Tell him to take horses and bring them home."

Estel didn't need to be told twice and ran from the house as fast as his legs would carry him. Dan and Ro would finally come home.

-o0o-

Elrohir was finally sleeping. The thin blanket that covered him rose and fell gently with his reassuringly steady breathing. Maybe, in a few more hours, Elladan might even believe that it would not suddenly stutter and stop.

Their trek through the tunnel in the cliffside had been a torturously slow affair, every step punctuated by the increasingly weak gasps of his twin as he struggled to take another breath. Elrohir's skin had been hot and clammy under his touch, but the surest sign of his brother's failing strength had been the unshielded connection of their bond. Elrohir had lacked the strength to even try and conceal his weakness from him and Elladan had been dreadfully aware of the extent of it. Worse, he had felt their link weaken with every step they took. It would be a long time before he would shake the feeling of fearing, of expecting, every one of his twin's breaths to be his last.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath himself, trying to banish the treacherous memories anyway, trying to remind himself – to convince himself – that they were home. Safe. Elrohir was sleeping and the antidote was working.

The blue tinge of his twin's lips had already disappeared, though he was still too pale, and his eyes were tightly closed in a healing sleep. According to their father his fever would break soon, the antidote he had administered supposedly both fast and effective. Elladan was still not sure how he should feel about the fact that Elrohir had been familiar enough with the symptoms of the poison that he had been able to identify it for the healers with such ease. They had clearly too much experience, the both of them, with the vile concoctions of the orcs.

He only hoped that the medicine administered by their father had also stopped the hallucinations that had haunted his twin, but it was impossible to know for sure. He knew the darkness that could so easily be conjured from the barely suppressed memories they both shared.

His worries lightened a little as his eyes came to rest on the sleeping form of his youngest brother. Only Estel's dark curls peeked out from beneath the blanket as he slept peacefully, curled up against Elrohir's chest. Estel had always been more effective at keeping dark visions at bay than any medicine, especially for Elrohir.

Unfortunately, it seemed that now he needed them to return the favor. Estel's eyes had been deeply lined by exhaustion when they had returned, and by his own admission he had not slept since the day before, too worried for their safe return, too haunted by the dark images of the orcs that had hunted him and Legolas.

He gripped the cup of stimulating herbs in his hand tighter at the reflexive anger the thought of the vile creatures brought. Yet again they had touched someone he loved. If Glorfindel and his warriors had not so effectively dealt with them, Elladan would have relished the chance to take bitter vengeance on the orcs himself.

Alas, the orc tunnels had been deserted according to the reports that Nelledir had sent back after being informed of the twins' safe return to Rivendell. The seasoned warrior himself had remained with a few others to hold the collapsed pools, but Erestor was already in negotiations with a delegation of dwarves visiting from the Blue Mountains. They were certain that they could seal off any entrance into the valley by causing another, calculated collapse of the underground passages. They even said the stream would fill the new basin, reforming the pools, if a bit deeper than before. Elladan did not think that he would swim in them ever again.

Movement from across the Hall of Healing drew his attention. Legolas was moving gingerly out of bed and across the room – though Elladan suspected that Legolas' careful motions were more a result of worry that he might be caught out of bed against Elrond's orders than pain from his re-opened injury.

Their friend had been a surprisingly agreeable patient thus far, resting as ordered on his cot by the window. Knowing Legolas, he had probably only bided his time, waiting until the healers left. No, Elladan mentally chided himself for the thought; Legolas was no irresponsible elfling anymore. Most likely he had not wanted to intrude on Estel's reunion with his brothers. Elladan should probably remind Legolas that he was practically a part of this family himself.

He smiled at the prince as he gingerly sat down next to him. "They are asleep then," the prince stated, his eyes also drawn to the peaceful image of Estel and Elrohir on the healing pallet.

Elladan almost nodded but caught himself at the last moment. "Yes," he confirmed. "Finally. It will do them good."

Legolas breathed a soft sigh of relief. "He would not sleep, no matter what entreaties I or your father made," Legolas said, speaking softly of Estel.

"Aye, that does sound like Estel." Elladan grinned ruefully. "He is every bit as stubborn as Elrohir."

"As stubborn as any of the line of Luthien," Legolas corrected with a knowing grin. Elladan merely glowered at him.

"What about you?" Legolas asked after a moment, "should you not be resting also?"

"Standard procedure for head wounds," Elladan said and grimaced as he took another sip of the vile brew in his cup meant to help him stay awake. "It will be a few hours yet before father will be satisfied that I will not slip into a coma once I close my eyes."

Legolas nodded, accepting the information. He had once learned the basics of healing in Rivendell himself, but the prince was a warrior first and foremost, not a healer. Elladan knew that his friend was content with knowing enough field medicine to keep the elves under his command alive long enough to reach those that could provide better help. It was the encroaching darkness that spread in Greenwood, spread over all of Middle Earth, that had shaped him. That, Elladan mused, and Thranduil's influence. He and Elrohir would probably also know less of healing had their father been anyone else than Elrond Peredhil.

But they had been trained well and almost without conscious thought he found himself mustering Legolas with the critical gaze of a healer. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I did this morning."

Elladan snorted at the noncommittal answer, not really expecting honesty from Legolas. Long years of acquaintance had taught him better than that. But Legolas was in good care and he would heal.

As would his brothers.

He could almost grasp the certainty, could almost allow himself to believe it and give up his watch for this day. Elladan let silence settle over the room once more, content to listen to his brothers' breathing. The silent piping of a songbird drifted in through the open windows, leading to the very balcony Elrohir had spotted Estel on before. Fresh air streamed in, mingling with the herb-infused steam that rose from several hot pitchers placed around the room.

Yes, all would be well. Thanks, in large part, to the selfless acts of Legolas.

"Thank you, Legolas," he said, his voice sincere. "For looking after Estel when we could not."

"Of course." Legolas' response came at once, without reservation. His blue eyes strayed to the sleeping form of Estel again and the fondness Legolas held for his brother was clear to see. He had not stayed with Estel out of a sense of duty towards the twins or to Rivendell, but because of the friendship he shared with the young human.

Elladan smiled. No one could resist Estel's charm, he knew, and the friendship that had been budding between Estel and Legolas since their first meeting three years ago was only growing stronger.

-o0o-

THE END