Before the Gate
Elladan tightened his grip on his sword hilt as he surveyed the
gathering hosts of Mordor. Orcs and Easterlings and trolls
surrounded them, the hordes deepening even as he watched.
“We are outnumbered, little brother,” he said softly.
Elrohir nodded. “Aye. But when has that ever stopped
us?” He smiled grimly. “This was our idea – and
Father’s. It is a little late to change our minds
now!” He sobered and turned to face Elladan, clasping
his arm tightly. “If we fall, we fall together,” he vowed.
Elladan gripped his arm. “Together,” he agreed.
“Whatever may come, we face it together.”
There was a harsh bray of trumpets as arrows thudded into the ground at
their feet, and a mighty roar as orcs and trolls surged towards them,
blood-red light glinting dully on swords and spears.
With an icy battle calm, Elladan waited to meet them, with Elrohir by