Elladan stared listlessly out of his windows as dusk fell. A sheet of paper lay on the desk before him, nearly as blank as when he had taken it from the drawer. He had got as far as writing the title, ‘Factors Which Led To The Fall Of Doriath’, but no further. Lessons had been suspended for the duration of the Council and Games, but they would soon resume, and the history essay for Erestor had not even been started. He suspected, rather sourly, that Elrohir had already finished his. He had hoped to use the time while Elrohir and Legolas were away to catch up – but was too worried, too tense to concentrate. It would have to wait.
Throwing down his quill with a sigh of exasperation, he stood and went out onto the balcony, gazing out at the darkness, wondering about the explorers. Had they got as far as the Trollshaws yet? Had they been able to cross the Bruinen without being spotted by the guards? He hoped desperately that nothing would go wrong on this fool-hardy expedition, that nothing would happen to Elrohir – or to Legolas. Yet the angry, unthinking words he had hurled at Elrohir kept coming back to haunt him. ‘Fine! Go and get yourself killed by trolls, then! See if I care!’ He was consumed by guilt, and the fear that his taunt would tempt fate. The fact that he had apologised did nothing to unsay the words.
Elladan half hoped that Elrohir and Legolas would be caught by a patrol – at least then they would be returned safely, if in disgrace, and his promise would not be broken. However, he dreaded to think of the scenes that would ensue if that happened. His parents would be furious and bitterly disappointed with Elrohir, and whatever punishment they imposed would last for weeks, affecting him as well. He did not even dare to think about Thranduil’s reaction.
As if conjured by that thought, there was a knock at the door, and Erestor entered. He glanced around the room. “Elladan? Have you seen Legolas anywhere? King Thranduil asked me to look out for him – he has not been seen all afternoon.”
Elladan leapt guiltily to his feet. This was the first trial – how convincing could he be? “He went out with Elrohir. I think – I think they were going hunting.” Elladan held his breath, praying that Erestor did not question him further.
“Hunting? I suppose he did not think to tell his father that!” Erestor sighed. “Elflings! Very well, I will tell Thranduil myself. Thank you, Elladan!” With that, Erestor left again, and Elladan sank back onto his seat, feeling limp. He had not lied, and never would, not even for Elrohir. He had done nothing but tell the exact truth – so why did he feel so guilty?
That thought reminded Elladan of the even harder role he faced in this venture – to fend off their parents’ questions over Elrohir’s disappearance. It would soon be time for supper, and his absence would not go unnoticed, even though the meal would be informal. Leaving his untouched essay on the desk, he quickly washed and went down to the dining hall. He did not feel particularly companionable, so chose a quiet end of one of the tables, picking morosely at the food before him, not in the least hungry.
“Elladan? Why do you look so miserable?” A hand brushed the top of his head, and slid down to caress his cheek. Startled, he looked up as his mother sat on the bench opposite, her expression concerned. Celebrían glanced along the table, then at the other benches, and her frown deepened. “Where is Elrohir? And Legolas? Are they not back yet?”
“Back?” he asked warily.
She nodded. “Thranduil said they had gone hunting. I did not expect them to miss supper!” She paused, then added, “What is wrong? I know you and Elrohir argued again this morning – are you still not talking? Is that why you did not go with them? What was it about this time?”
Elladan sighed. “It wasn’t about anything, really – it never is. El was annoyed by something Finglor had said, and I said I thought he was right.”
Celebrían moved around the table to sit next to him, her hand on his shoulder. “And?”
“And then El said he didn’t need me around, that he wasn’t my shadow; and I told him to …” Just in time, Elladan recalled the need to edit the argument. “I told him I didn’t care. It was so trivial! It always is. I didn’t mean it; he didn’t mean it. And now he’s gone off hunting for the night with Legolas.”
His mother looked surprised at that piece of news. “They have gone for the night? Well, I suppose they cannot come to any harm – not in the valley. They are both able to look after themselves. But I am annoyed with Elrohir – it is unkind to treat you like this. I shall have words with him when he comes back.” Her sympathetic voice suddenly hardened.
Elladan looked aghast. The last thing Elrohir and Legolas needed was Celebrían waiting up for them. “No! Naneth, please don’t. I – I can deal with him myself. Please.”
She looked at him questioningly for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I will leave it to you.” She smiled. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk to your adar? I think you will find that disagreements between twins are not that unusual. Goodnight, my dear.” She kissed his cheek and left.
When Elladan returned to his room, he did not prepare for bed, but instead went out again, seating himself on the stone balustrade. He gazed up at the sky, thinking. What were Elrohir and Legolas doing now? Where precisely were they? He realised that he was not sure where exactly the trolls had been seen, other than that it was somewhere in the Trollshaws – and that covered a vast area. The wood lay north of the road and stretched from the Bruinen in the east, and ran westwards as far as the Mitheithel. Unless the trolls had been seen very close to the eastern border, Elrohir had no hope of reaching the spot and returning by dawn. If he and Legolas were gone for much longer than that, nothing Elladan could say or do would prevent trouble.
He sighed. Why was Elrohir being so difficult lately? They seemed to argue more and more frequently now, and his normally placid, easy-going twin seemed unusually touchy and sensitive these days. Elladan did not understand what had changed, nor did he understand why Elrohir had suddenly felt the need to prove himself, why he had gone to look for the trolls in the first place.
His musing was interrupted by a sudden sharp jolt of fear. He stood, gazing into the night, his heart pounding. Something had happened. Something had happened that had badly frightened Elrohir. Elladan clenched his hands into fists, staring towards the Bruinen and beyond it, as if he could pierce the darkness and the distance by will alone. Eventually the tension eased, and he sank down into a corner of the balcony, leaning his head against the stone, still peering westward. He knew he would not sleep until Elrohir returned.
His fervent murmur was lost on the night breeze. “Please be safe, El. Please come back to me. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Elrohir stood motionless for a moment, his eyes never leaving the troll. Then, gathering his scattered wits, he backed away rapidly. The troll bent lower, its head tilted slightly to one side, and he realised with incredulity that it seemed to be just as curious about him. Behind him, he could hear Legolas’s anguished whisper. “Elrohir, get away from it! Move!” Nodding, he began to edge toward Legolas, wondering if they would be any safer if they could reach the trees.
It seemed that the troll did not like its prize escaping, for it gave a low rumbling growl – totally unlike the sound Elrohir had made. Then it moved one huge, trunk-like leg behind him, cutting off his retreat. Elrohir froze, swallowing against the sudden sharp jolt of fear. His heart was pounding fiercely, and he clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to remain calm as he started to sidle in the other direction.
The troll took another step, moving even closer, still grumbling like a distant thunder storm. Its great impassive face loomed above him, and his heart nearly stopped. A wave of foul breath wafted over him, and he tried not to breathe too deeply. From the other side of the troll’s massive foot Elrohir could hear Legolas, frantic now. “Elrohir! Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
Still not taking his gaze off it, Elrohir called back cautiously. “Yes! Legolas, I think it’s puzzled! It’s looking at me!” Then his voice trailed away as the troll grunted, and it lifted its hand. This time a gigantic finger was extended, prodding him in the chest. For the troll it was probably no more than a gentle nudge, but the impact knocked Elrohir off his feet, and he tumbled to the ground with a gasp.
The troll moved its hand again, about to poke at him a second time, when Legolas leapt forward, darting around the troll’s leg and glaring up at it. “Stop it!” he shouted. “Leave him alone, orc-dung!” He turned. “Elrohir, are you hurt?”
Elrohir scrambled to his feet, as Legolas grabbed his arm and pulled him further from the troll. He felt a little breathless, and his chest hurt. “No. I’m fine. But I think we’d better get out of here!”
The troll now turned its attention to Legolas, appearing to notice for the first time that there were two elves. It reached for him, cupping its hand around him, its fingers curling slowly. If it picked him up, it could easily crush him, even unintentionally. Elrohir jumped towards it, wondering as he did so what he could possibly do. His hands swept back, seized his bow and an arrow, and he fired. The arrow lodged in the back of the troll’s hand, causing no more harm than a pin-prick, but making it stare at its hand. Then it turned back to Elrohir again and roared. Before he could move, it snatched the bow from his hands and snapped it in two. He gave a cry of dismay and turned to flee.
Legolas, now released, bolted towards the safety of the trees with Elrohir hot on his heels. They dodged and weaved between the trunks, hearing a roar of protest behind them. Pausing briefly, they looked back at the troll, and Legolas gasped. “Elrohir, I think your friend is only young. Look!”
Elrohir looked, and saw the troll that had appeared so interested him peering at them forlornly. A much larger troll, surely a parent, was leading it across the dell by the hand.
Without pausing any longer, they fled back up the valley, across the plateau and down again. Finally halting in the shelter of a small copse they collapsed to the ground, panting.
“Are you all right?” they asked, simultaneously. Elrohir laughed. “We sound like El and me,” he explained. He lay on the grass as he caught his breath, then twisted around again to look behind them, as Legolas was doing. “Is there any sign of them?” he asked tensely.
Legolas shook his head. “No. I can’t see them. I don’t think they actually chased us.”
“No. The little one seemed curious. I think it wondered what we were – perhaps it’s never seen elves before!” Then Elrohir’s face fell. “My bow. It broke my bow! How am I going to explain that?” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to borrow one from the armoury and hope no-one notices. Why did it do that?”
“Because you shot an arrow into its hand,” Legolas pointed out. “But I’m glad you did – I think it was going to grab me! I’m sorry about your bow, though.” He looked sympathetic for a moment, then suddenly gave a strange, secretive smile.
With a groan, Elrohir stood. “Come on. We’d better go home. It will be dawn soon.” Walking quickly now, they crossed the stream at the foot of the valley again, before climbing a steep ridge. From the top they could look down into the valley of the Bruinen, the river glinting darkly in the night. Ahead, they could see the trees of Imladris, and a very dim light glimmering faintly in the distance. It meant that someone was still awake in the house, and Elrohir prayed it was not his parents, waiting to demand an explanation for his behaviour.
Beside him, Legolas stretched. “We’re nearly there now. Do you think Elladan has kept our secret?” He sounded a little apprehensive.
“He’ll have done his best,” Elrohir reassured him. “It depends what questions people asked. He won’t have lied, but if he was able to stick to the hunting story we should be safe. Come on – I’ll race you down the hill! Who’ll be first across the river?”
They took off, running and stumbling down the slope, relieved at their narrow escape, thankful to be nearly home. Legolas found himself gradually lagging behind as Elrohir, slightly taller, slightly longer-legged, slightly faster, covered the ground more swiftly. But as they neared the river, Elrohir slowed, limping a little, and stopped to remove the dagger he had thrust into his boot the previous afternoon. In seconds Legolas passed him with a jaunty wave. “See you back at Imladris, Elrohir!”
He ran down the bank, and splashed into the water. The stones on the riverbed were loose, slick with moss and weed, and he slipped once or twice. He slowed, picking his way across carefully. For some reason he could not seem to get his balance; the stones kept moving oddly beneath his feet. Then he fell again, full-length in the icy water, his mouth and nose blocked. He picked himself up again as the riverbed shifted once more under him, coughing and shaking water out of his ears in an attempt to clear the peculiar roaring, rushing sound he could hear. The noise did not abate, but seemed to grow even louder, and he heard a startled oath from Elrohir, still on the bank.
Looking up, Legolas saw a wall of water looming out of the darkness and bearing down on him: two, five, ten feet high, increasing in speed and ferocity as it neared him. He froze in midstream, staring in disbelief at the great wave of destruction racing towards him.
Stories > First > Previous > Next