Fan Fiction ❯ Demons in the Dark ❯ Chapter 7

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Italics indicate memory or dreams.

Commonly used Sindarin words:

Ai: Oh!
pen-neth: young one
muindor: brother
gwador: sworn brother, not those by blood
Ada: dad
melethron: lover
a'maelamin: lover
ernil-nín: my prince
ion nín: my son
*~*~*

It was early in the afternoon when Glorfindel and Estel rode into the manor. The grooms appeared at the sound of approaching hooves and took the mounts as the blonde elf and the edain dismounted. They were tired and dusty from the road, but the sights and sounds of home revived them somewhat.

Elrohir emerged from the house looking slightly rumpled, his hair long and loose around his face as was his usual style. "Glorfindel, Estel!" he cried as he came down the steps. "Welcome home!"

Smiles graced the faces of both Elf and Man as they dismounted, pulling their saddlebags from their horses before the grooms led them away.

Estel gripped Elrohir's arm in greeting, then laughed as he was pulled into a hug. "Where's Ada?"

Elrohir sighed. "Holed up in his study with Erestor, trying to work out the best way to build up the border guard."

Glorfindel nodded. "The Orcs have increased their activity not far from these borders. We passed the scene of attack this morning."

"An attack?" Elrohir suddenly looked worried. "What did you find?"

"Tracks only," Estel replied. "One rider, one horse. Probably taken captive." The look on Elrohir's face twisted something inside Estel. He had a very bad feeling. "Why?"

Before Elrohir could respond, a sound from behind made them turn.

Estel followed Elrohir's gaze, catching sight of Elladan as he appeared from the woods. His older brother looked a little down, maybe a little paler than usual, but Elladan didn't tend to get a lot of sleep when Legolas was around. Estel looked about for Elladan's blonde companion. Legolas had been in residence when he and Glorfindel had rode out to Lorien only a few weeks prior. Not seeing the Prince and sensing somehow that Elladan's spirits needed lifting, Estel grinned.

"Where is Legolas, Elladan? Did you finally succeed in making him leave, never to return?"

The unexpected tackle caught him off guard. The Man had the wind knocked out of him as he landed on the ground, the larger dark haired elf falling on top of him. So shocked was Estel that he didn't have time to react as a fist appeared in front of his face and then made contact, first with his cheek, then chin, then his nose.

Glorfindel and Elrohir were stunned into immobility as Elladan tackled Estel to the ground, but were roused as the punches started to fly. Before Elladan was able to get off more than a few strikes, Elrohir was pulling him off their youngest brother, earning himself an elbow to the stomach for his effort. Grunting, he wrapped his arms tighter around Elladan and pulled, whirling, half dragging half lifting his twin off the Man.

Blood poured from Estel's broken nose as Glorfindel tugged him out of the way. The bruise was already starting to spread to his eye, meeting up with the nice one on his cheek. The edain was going be a nice collection of colors in a few days, Glorfindel noted, pulling a cloth from a pocket and trying to help staunch the bleeding.

Elladan fought free from Elrohir's grasp and stopped dead in his tracks catching sight of a bruised and bleeding Estel sitting up against Glorfindel's chest. His eyes went wide as full realization sunk in.

"I, I," He stuttered, words failing him.

Glorfindel stared at him, more in shock than accusation, even as his hands supported the young Man.

"I'm sorry," Elladan said, then turned and ran back into the woods.
*~*~*

"Nay, love," Legolas murmured at a tug on his shoulder. "Let me sleep." The slumbering Prince felt a curious pain as he was turned onto his back by his lover.

The tug turned into a jab to his belly. "Elladan?" he whimpered, trying to draw up his knees to protect the tender flesh from abuse. Why was he being so mean? "Let me rest."

A cruel laugh came out of the darkness. "Your lover often wakes you with a beating, then?"

Another sharp pain in his side brought Legolas to awareness. It wasn't Elladan that was waking him. Another kick accompanied the thought.

The Prince lacked the strength even to curl into a ball to protect his body. His body weakened with pain, fatigue and fever, it was enough to focus on breathing and not screaming. If he could do one thing, it would be to prevent the orcs the satisfaction of hearing him scream at their hands.

"No pretty words this time?" the orc mocked, kicking him again in the ribs. Legolas felt something bend, and at another kick, a stabbing pain took his already labored breath away with a crack.

The Prince didn't have the breath to respond even if he'd wanted to.