Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Disclaimer - They do... I don't.The lyrics in the fic are 'Goldie's Theme' from the Water Rats Soundtrack.

Authors Notes - Again, I don't know where the mink this one came from. Twas in a strangely morbid mood when I wrote it. The fight sequence was inspired by a bout I saw during my sword lessons (yes.. I'm taking swordfighting lessons...very sad I know!), one of my masters had two daggers, and was attacking one of the other masters who was unarmed. The unarmed one used to brilliant grapples to disarm the other, twas quite the spectacle! Also... I had been dared to write a story without names, here I believe I have done so. The only names that are mentioned are those of minor character, and those needed to be there to provide some kind of continuity. -

Dedication- To all the guys and girls at Stoccata School of Defense. To Sonbon and the Pak-ettes, and to Katie my northern buddy! Elladan and Elrohir are ambushed near their home.

Step after step, foot after foot; slowly returning to the place of their birth, but only one was returning alive. Silver tears mingled with tangled mattered hair as they traced the lines of many before them, slipping silently down the pale face, only to drop onto the still silent face of another. Still and silent, pale and translucent. Dead.

Step after step, foot after foot, ever closer to their home, but a home it would be no more without the joined laughter at the antics of both twins who resided beneath its high ceilings. There would be no more laughter, only sorrow, pain and grief, a grief that would most assuredly take another life before its course was complete. He knew not how to cope without the ever present feeling of his brother. Always there, always close, but never again.

He knew there would be questions as soon as he was sighted within the borders of Imladris bearing the body of his brother, but he had no inkling as to how to answer them. How did his brother die? He was not certain of the exact sequence of events, only that he had awoken from a sharp blow to his head to find his dear twin dead on the churned earth beside him. Fragmented scenes flashed before his mind's eye, showing him snippets, snatches, but never the full picture. When he had gone down, his brother was alive and fighting, valiantly protecting the almost unconscious form of himself. When the darkness finally overwhelmed him his brother was standing; but when he returned to the light, all life had fled from his brother's body leaving only a cooling corpse, dark blood slowly conjealing about the wounds that covered his torso, seeping through the shredded cloth of the hunting tunic and mixing with the damp earth beneath them.

More pieces came back to him, fleetingly showing themselves before vanishing back to the realm of jumbled thoughts a concussion leaves as one of its markers. Men, there were several men, but not with swords, they were armed only with short daggers, the rapid spinning circles of the blades making it difficult to judge the trajectory of the blow. The twins had discarded their bows in favour of their own blades, the elegant curved swords of the Sons of Elrond gleamed in the dim lighting, reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight in their grooves as they too joined in the dance of death. The men wore crudely sown hides of thick leather as armour, the tough surface barely allowing the steel of the elvish blades to make a mark, yet the elves were largely unprotected in their suede hunting tunics and silken shirts.

Vastly outnumbered the elves had little chance of escape, the group of seven men easily closing off any every avenue before picking the fight. They were thugs, bushrangers, men living off the poor unwitting souls they happened to come across and rob, taking all worthy positions and weapons, then leaving their victims to die of exposure in the cold forest during the bitter late autumn nights.

Wether the men knew they were elves before they attacked or not, the still slowly moving figure would never know. He only knew that one minute his brother and himself were reclining alone the bank of a swiftly moving stream, basking in the late afternoon warmth, enjoying the final kiss of sunlight before it passed beneath the trees and mountains to signal the coming of another bitter night. They were just about to rise and move off, realising they had tarried too long in the now completely shaded glen, and knowing they would be pushed to be home before they father started to worry. The twins had promised to be home before nightfall, bearing meat to be used for the upcoming feast that marked the start of the winter months. He never saw where the men came from, only that they seemed to appear from everywhere at once, pushing the twins back towards the rushing stream with their gleaming daggers and sheer numbers. Standing back to back they had decided to make a stand, for escape was not an option being hemmed in on 3 sides and a rushing torrent on the fourth. They knew it would not be an easy fight.

He took first blood, his long blade easily surpassing the distance of the short dagger to slice deeply into the arm of the closest male, he withdrew, clawing at his arm and tossing his dagger to a companion. This one moved forward, keeping both blades moving and attempting to confuse the elf as to which direction his attack was going to come from. He thrust his right blade towards the elf lord's shoulder then feinted down toward his ribcage before bringing the left around to stike him hard on his temple. He felt his body go slack as pain erupted from behind his eyes, exploding with black flashes across his vision and making him wonder who in the name of the Valar turned the lights out. He lay on the moist earth watching his dear brother as he fought again the 6 remaining men, trying to kill them, disarm them, scare them into leaving the twins alone. Alas it did not work.

From his vantage point on the earth the fallen twin could see most of the struggle, but not all of it. 4 of the men he saw, the other two were obscured by the fighting form of his twin. They managed to disarm his brother, grappling his arm as he attempted to aim a cut at the neck of one of the men. They twisted his wrist until he instinctively let go of his weapon, if only to save his arm from being broken then and there. Perhaps that would have been the better option in hindsight.

Disarmed and in a hopeless fight the twin used ungraceful but effective grappling and wrestling techniques, taught to them upon the insistence of Glorfindel for the express purpose of disarming an opponent using nought but your hands and body. A knife darted towards the elf, who took the opportunity to grab the incoming hilt and use it to his advantage, pulling the large man closer and slamming the heel of his palm into the man's nose, neatly ending its miserable existence. He whirled and continued to use the lunges of the men against them, sidestepping then either disarming them or downing them until only two were left.

It was at this point the darkness claimed the fallen elf as its own, shielding his eyes from the last moments of the battle.

He was almost sure that his brother would be victorious, after downing 4 of the brutes, he only had two remaining, which was not an altogether difficult task for an elf. But when light once again graced him with its presence he was the only one alive in the glen. The bodies of man and elf alike strewn haphazardly around him as the mist of early morning started to rise with the warmth of the new sun. He had crawled to where the fallen form of his brother lay, face down upon the damp earth, deep gouges apparent even in the back of his torn tunic. He felt for a pulse and found none beneath the cool still skin of his brother's neck. No breath filled his brothers lungs, no blood pulsed though the veins made in the very image of his own. He was truly alone. He rolled the body over, his eyes taking in the broken body of his twin and the open unseeing eyes that were a mirror of his. He gently closed the cold eyes, and gingerly knelt, gathering the form of his brother into his arms. He rose unsteadily, swaying on his feet as the pain from his concussion reacquainted itself with his body. One step, then another, and slowly he made his way back towards Imladris.

Time lost all meaning as he silently bore the body of his twin back to their home. He could not remember making a conscious decision as to which direction he should head in, but his feet slowly made their way along the twisting winding path that followed and rose through the escarpment to finally arrive at the steps of his home. He heard the galloping of hoofbeats around him, but his mind barely registered the fact that they would have been missed and search parties sent out when they didn't return. A small troupe of warrior elves were walking in the woods just to his right and saw him, but did not make a sound. The stoic stance and the silent tears told them all they needed to know and they quietly formed a guard of honour around the twin and the fallen Lord, allowing no harm to come to the body as it was borne on its final journey home.

He crossed the stone bridge and ascended the stairs to his home, moving past his father and foster brother, past his shocked sister and towards the room he had shared with his twin since they were born. His family felt into step behind him, each step aching with the grief now etched into their features. Finally reaching his room he eased the door open and crossed the floor, before ever so gently easing the body of his brother onto his bed. A blanket was thrown around his shoulders and he had memory of placating words being whispered by one of the servants as he was led away to his own bed and set upon it. His father was there soon after, silently examining and dressing his own wound before tending to the body of his brother. Exhaustion soon claimed him and he drifted into the dark void of sleep, dreams eluding him as his body tried desperately to heal itself.

Disclaimer - They do , I don't. The song is My Immortal from Evanesence's album Fallen

Dedication - To Sonbon and the Pakettes, to Katie my northern buddy, and to Minka, who has once again inspired me to angst!

Elladan rolled over in his bed, his dark hair catching under his face and forcing him to become semi-awake in order to flick it out of the way. His dark eyes cleared and he automatically glanced towards the other bed in the room. It was empty. His mind reaquainted itself with his consciousness with the force of a runaway oliphant, emotions crashing within him until he thought he could bear no more. Elrohir was dead. A scream that would remain with all who heard it echoed around the spacious room. The cry similar to that of a wounded animal, too much pain to bear and no understanding as to why.

I'm so tired of being here

Supressed by all my childish fears

And if you have to leave I wish that you would just leave

Cause your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone

Many footsteps rushed towards the bedroom, Glorfindel had been resting in a large chair in the dark corner of the room was on his feet the instant Elladan had awoke. He had known this would not be easy on the elf, alas, Elladan would be lucky if he survived the experience. To lose a loved one was enough to send any elf to the verge of hopelessness, but to lose a twin, a mirror image in every way of yourself, must be too hard to bear.

These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time can not erase

The Twins of course had been inseparable throughout their now many years. Always joking together, scheming together or generally causing mischief. To see one without the other nearby was a rarity and few elves ever saw them apart, not counting the young maidens of the village who frequently caught the Twins apart in their antics of courting either one of them. From the time they had both picked up a sword to commanding the legions of the Rivendell Guard together, always bouncing ideas off each other, always there to pick each other up when one fell in battle or took a tumble from his horse. They had shared everything, a room, daily duties and even gifts, so it seemed only natural that they shared feelings as well. If one was frightened the other would undoubtably be as well, if one was giggling, the other was generally in a fit of laughter on the floor. Alas they were remarkable. Were.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you scream I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

Elladan sat bolt upright in his bed, his naturally pale face as white and stark as the moon on a starry night. He seemed unable to think coherently, and seemed to be warring within himself as to what was actually happening. Glorfindel rushed to his bedside, sitting on the edge and holding the shaking elf close, whispering comforting nothings in the delicately pointed ear until the shudders subsided. The dumbfounded look was slowly replaced by one of irreplaceable loss. Somewhere deep inside himself Elladan knew his brother was gone. Never again to grace the halls of Imladris with his contagious laughs and smiles.

You used to captivate me by your resonating mind

Now I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

The days blurred past in a haze of pain for Elladan. He had sat numbly through Elrohir's passing ceremony and he said nought to anybody, including his closest family, all but disappearing into the darkened dreams his mind had surrendered too. Days turned into weeks with still no improvement in Elladan's condition. His muscle tone began to waste with lack of use and he had barely eaten time since he had returned, only taking slight food at the utmost begging of his distraught sister.

Elrond had been nothing but helpful, aiding his almost comatose like son in the daily tasks of bathing and keeping himself at least looking clean despite the fact that the once fitting robes were beginning to hang from an increasingly skeletal frame. Elrond had pushed aside his own gnawing grief to see to the needs of his son, not allowing himself the time he needed to mourn the loss of a son due to the increasing probability of loosing another. But there came a time when even a grieving father must admit defeat. The Elf Lord had tried everything he could think of to bring Elladan out of his grief. Tales about the good days, talk of the future, bringing his close friends to be near him, and lastly blatant threats. Nothing had worked, Elladan sat mutely wherever his father had placed him, staring at nothing while the world seemed to turn without him.

These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time can not erase

It was as if Elladans' spirit had fled along with his brother's, leaving nothing but a broken shell amoung the living, but Glorfindel was sure there was something left. It may be battered and broken with grief, but there had to be something of the old Elladan somewhere within the wasted shell that sat in the chair by the window all day.

Having had enough of one-sided pleasantries Glorfindel decided to take matters into his owns hands. If Elrond knew what he were about to do he would assuradly be cast out of Imladris, if not executed on the spot. With the aid of another house elf they carried the unresponsive twin outside, on Glorfindel's pretense of allowing the young elf to see the sky and trees. Once the other elf had left Elladan leaning against a large tree, Glorfindel pulled his sword from its scabbard and pressed it into one of the cold thin hands, making sure the other dark elf was not going to drop the weapon before reaching for one of his daggers.

The blonde elf was hoping that the basic combat training he had instilled in both twins by himself from a very young age was in there somewhere. If he could coax any kind of response out it would be worth it. He bought his dagger to bear, brandishing it in front of his body with slow arcs, allowing Elladan to clearly see the weapon dancing in front of him. When the dark elf didn't respond Glorfindel arced the blade closer, stepping into attacking distance and making his movements more threatening. Some cloud started to lift from Elladan's eyes, the tortured soul clawing its way a little closer to the surface. Glorfindel went one step further, aiming his blade towards Elladan's unprotected sword arm, just enough that if the other elf didn't move he would only receive a light graze. It was enough.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you scream I'd fight away all of your fears

And I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

The dark elf seemed to erupt, his eyes clearing completely and his left arm coming up to parry the incoming blow. He arced his own blade towards the blonde elf, intent on somehow hurting the one that was making him face his own angst. His blade struck with deadly accuracy, his anger lending his body the strength it lacked in muscle tone. Glorfindel parried and dodged with his own blade, matching Elladan's anger with pure skill and millennia of practice. The even match was short lived, the strain beginning to show on Elladan's face shortly after the bout began.

Beads of sweat started to trickle down his face, matting his limp dark hair at his scalp before sliding its way down his neck. His sword arm began shaking, the sweat in his palm causing his grip to slip and sending the delicately curved blade crashing to the ground. His body soon followed, all strength seemingly leeched from his muscles as the grief he had been trying desperately trying to hide from within his own mind caught up with him.

Another great cry rang through the valley's of Imladris followed by great sobs. Glorfindel was by his side in an instant, holding the sobbing elf as he released weeks worth of bottled up emotion and thanking the Valar that he may not lose both twins. Several elves appeared at the commotion, rushing towards the two elves now on the ground to see if they could be of assistance. The blonde Elf Lord whispered several instructions and the elves hurried away, returning shortly with the provisions Glorfindel had requested. Elladan had calmed somewhat by the time the elves returned, glancing up through red and watery eyes at the items that were deposited nearby. A flask of miruvor was pressed into his hands, which it turn were aided to his lips. He swallowed several long drafts, savouring the feeling of the fragrant liquor as it gave strength to his weakened body. Blankets were wrapped around his shoulders and once he had drank his fill, some lembas found their way into his hands. He nibbled at the think bread, staring at the grass before finally working up the courage to look Glorfindel in the eye. Part of him still wanted to follow the path of his brother, to depart this earth and dwell in the Halls of Mandos. Yet what Glorfindel had just done and sparked a small glimmer of hope with him. He was not totally alone in his grief, others would be there to share it with him, to help him bear the almost impossible burden of carrying on when it felt half your being way missing.

Glorfindel seemed to pick up on the mixed feelings as they played across the twin's features. He murmured words of encouragement and words of regret, he spoke of the future, how Rivendel must have an heir to its throne and a leader for its people. Deep inside Glorfindel knew that if he lost Elladan to grief, the rest of Elrond's family would surely follow.

" You must not give up hope my friend. You father needs you, your sister needs you, and Imladris needs you. You must show your strength and continue to be apart of this world." The blonde elf urged.

" My brother needed me, and I failed him. I let him die alone in the woods by the hand of men" the last word was spat out as though a word uglier than the foulest curse the dark elf knew. Glorfindel sat quietly, his arms still supporting the once again shaking elf as he started to tell his tale. He knew Elladan had to speak of what happened, only then would his healing begin.

" They came out of nowhere, he hadn't seen them or heard them. They had daggers, short and sharp, and think hides of leather for armour. They were upon us, all of them at once, trying to steal our weapons, to wound us, rob us, then leave us to die. We were holding our own until a blow to the head made me fall. I stayed awake as long as I could, but when I awoke, the men were dead, but so was my brother. If only I hadn't fallen, if only I hadn't taken my eyes off him, if only..."

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

But though you're still with me

I've been alone all along

" If only's will not bring him back Elladan. You do not know what happened after you fell, nor should you speculate. It will only cause you more grief." A muffled sniff was the only reply as Elladan tried to pull himself together. He swiped at his eyes, drying his tears on the sleeves of his robe and gulping down large lungfuls of air to try and ground himself. He took another sip of miruvor before trying to stand, staring down in shock at the condition of his body. His eyes held a million questions as he gazed to Glorfindel for the answers.

" It has been nearly 2 months my friend since you returned. You have barely eaten anything, nor moved under your own strength since then. Come, let us go inside" He wrapped his arms around the thin shoulders of the now only son of Elrond and led him inside, relief coursing through his veins. He had achieved a small victory today, but the worst would be to come.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you scream I'd fight away all of your fears

I held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

Alone by Yuna_Dax