Chapter Two- A Wearying Walk

The next morning the four set out. Their trip began uneventfully, and they walked along quietly, allowing the chirping of birds and the rushing of a river in the distance to be the only sound. They reveled in the beauty, enjoying the peace and companionship.

It was indeed a pleasant day for walking, with clear blue skies, a mild temperature, and a light breeze. The branches of many solemn trees hung over the path, and flowers added an occasional burst of color to the lush, green scenery.

Many hours later, Estel finally began to grow weary. Although he still kept up with the others, Elladan noticed his fatigue. "You look tired, Estel. Let’s stop by this gorgeous waterfall and rest some."

"I can keep moving." Estel did want to rest, but was too embarrassed to slow down his companions.

"Estel," Elrohir said, "you don’t have to pretend, we don’t expect you to travel as quickly as one of our own kind."

Estel fumed at his brother’s choice of words. His own brother was rubbing in the fact that he wasn’t as strong and fast as an elf and, worse still, was of a completely different race from his own foster brothers.

Elladan noticed Estel’s suppressed anger. Indeed, it was not that difficult to notice. Estel’s face was bright red, and his teeth and fists were tightly clenched, although he had the grace to hide the latter behind his back.

Elladan sighed. He wished Gilraen were here. She could calm and comfort her son, her presence reminding him of the positive attributes of humans. Indeed, if it had not been for Gilraen, Estel would have rejected his identity as a human, and tried to be an Elf. Only his own dear mother, who was of his own race, could show him that he had his own unique value.

A/N: rather slow moving, but at least I have a chapter up, if it is a bit short. If you'd rather have longer chapters with ridiculously long lapses between updates, just let me know. Thank you all for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated, too.

Camping Crisis Chapter 3

Sensitive Subjects

Tension remained high even after they set up camp. "Estel, does your naneth know you smoke?" Elladan demanded.

"You have no right to get involved with my personal relationship with my mother. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to have so many rules since your naneth left!"

"Well, at least I can choose to follow her across the Sea. Your naneth will die someday, and you’ll grieve till the day you follow her into death. Don’t you think you’ll regret not obeying?"

Estel was truly upset. He was already sensitive about his and his mother’s mortality. "I wouldn’t let my mother get captured by Orcs. I wouldn’t let her go on perilous trips outside Rivendell without me following all the way, even as the Orcs tried to take her."

Elladan and Elrohir fumed. This had gone much too far. Identical sets of eyebrows narrowed, teeth and fists were clenched, and whole bodies tensed in anger.

"How can you help?" Elrohir shouted. "You’re just a weak little mortal boy! Besides, how can you protect her if you’re always busy with your own little pranks and ‘adventures’? Anyway, my Naneth is a free spirit; she can’t just be caged up. She found healing, and Elladan and I continue to avenge her. If Orcs captured your mother, you’d likely be captured, too. You’d both probably die."

"At least my people don’t pity themselves to death. We can recover; you have to run to your precious West."

While they were shouting, they failed to notice the Orcs approaching. Estel, Elladan, and Elrohir were taken before Legolas could get them to hear his warning.

Prisoners with a New Perspective

Thanks to Lukey for beta reading

Estel found himself being pulled along by an orc, wondering how the orcs had sneaked up on him. His mind was in a frenzied panic, only vaguely aware of the brambles cutting his skin. The once luscious forest was marred by Orcs; even the limbs of the trees seemed to droop dejectedly.

He was in a rather akward position, since he was half-running and half-being dragged, but after a few fumbling efforts he managed to pull a small knife out of his boot and drive it through the orc’s neck. Another Orc’s sword swung towards his feet, and Estel jumped over it and then blocked another blow on his right. Finally, he was struck by the flat side of a sword, and with his last conscious thoughts he wondered why they wanted him alive.

Elladan and Elrohir fared much the same. Both gave a violent struggle, but they were too far outnumbered. Elladan received a glancing blow across his forehead, while Elrohir’s orcs simply broke his ankles so he could not get away. Defeated, they could only wait to see what would happen.

*****

Elrohir was in excruciating pain. Only his elvish hardiness kept it from being completely unbearable. He willed his tears to stop and breathed deeply, concentrating on the connection between his fea and hroa.*

With the pain thus lessened to a more bearable level, he glanced hopelessly around the cave he was in. He could not explore extensively because of his injuries and bonds. He and his brothers had been roughly thrown into a a small crevice off of a larger portion. The whole area reeked of orcs. The little light coming from torches in the main area revealed a camp of about seventy-five orcs. He could barely make out Estel limply propped up against the stone wall. Elladan sat between the two, wearing a distant, thoughtful look.

Just then Estel began to stir. Elladan reached over to him, gentle despite the previous arguments.

"Elladan? Is Elrohir here, too?" Estel asked.

"Yes, I’m here. How are you feeling?" Elrohir replied.

"I’ll have a bruise for a while, but for the most part I am well. I am not feeling queasy at all."

"I wish there was a bit more light so I could examine you properly," sighed Elladan. "Although it would still be difficult with my hands bound."

Estel slouched wearily. "I want to tell both of you that I’m sorry for overreacting earlier."

"I’m sorry too," Elladan said and Elrohir agreed, "I should have taken your feelings into account."

"I suppose we had better try to think our way out of this, but I don’t know how with all our injuries and so many orcs," lamented Elrohir.

****

After the others were captured, Legolas discreetly followed the orcs all the way to the cave they were held captive in. Although he hated to admit it to himself, he could not rescue them from that many orcs single-handedly. Instead, he took careful note of the cave’s location and headed back to Rivendell, hoping the orcs would not change locations before he could return. Alone and unhindered, he should be able to make it to Imladris in ten hours or so. He was thankful they had not had time to go far. Once in Rivendell, they could return on horses, so it would take very little time at all.

In truth, he felt somewhat guilty for not fighting the orcs when they attacked, or even successfully warnig the three brothers. Intellectually he knew that to try to fight the orcs would have only resulted in being captured along with the brothers, thus eliminating any chance of going for help. However, that did not make it much easier to bear; he felt like a coward and a traitor. Pushing his guilt aside, he quickened his pace. He did not wish to arrive with help too late to aid his friends.

*body and spirit. The connection is stronger in elves, which is part of what makes them so resilient.

Camping Crisis

Disclaimer: see previous chapters

“Again!” chorused Glorfindel, Elrond, and Erestor upon hearing of the capture of Elrond’s boys.

Elrond quickly readied commonly needed healing herbs, bandages, and antidotes for common orcish poisons. Glorfindel promptly found the most qualified soldiers in all of Imladris. Erestor made certain that horses were readied with proper supplies.

In two hours flat a rescue team was ready to set out from Rivendell. Legolas took some strong tea to keep himself awake and led the way to the orc encampment.

The journey was very brief, but it seemed like an eternity to Elrond, ancient though he was. With minimal rest, the rescuers rode hard as only elves could.

The orcs were shocked and outraged to be attacked. Glorfindel was in his element, slaying orcs with ease. A few Elves received superficial wounds, but it was truly the orcs that suffered most.

With the speed of an elven father in distress, Elrond rushed into the back of the cave until he found his sons. He unbound them and carried them out one at a time, as gently as a mother dog with her beloved pups.

In truth, the three were rather disgusted at being carried, but knew that protests were futile.

Estel looked through half-lidded eyes as his ada tended him, wondering what it would be like if his birth father still lived. He regretted not knowing the man, but he knew that he was blessed to be cared for by the gentle, wise, and fiercely protective lord of Rivendell.

Elrond’s hair brushed against the young man’s face as the noble elf cared for his foster son. Elladan and Elrohir could be left to the care of army medics, he would check on them later. Their elven bodies would heal efficiently. Estel, though, was so much more fragile. As Elrond looked into the lad’s eyes he thought of his wife. Thankfully, these eyes did not look nearly as haunted as those had.

Elrond shook his head, his long, dark hair tickling Estel’s face. This boy seemed to think battles of little consequence, to be fought and then forgotten. He had the occasional melancholy daydreams about his father, but no one that he actually remembered had ever died in battle. He had grown up among elves, who were not slain easily.

Elrond’s ada’s heart broke with the thought that, all too soon, Estel would be in the midst of all the turmoil. All he could do was protect the boy, and not tell him his heritage until he was truly ready---yet could one ever be prepared to learn that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders? Even as this hidden knowledge protected Estel from outside forces, it protected him from himself. Surely the lad deserved a carefree youth before he accepted responsibility for his whole race. Estel truly was hope for the future, but Elrond could only pray that his spirit would not be crushed with the acceptance of his heritage.

For now, the young man should have no greater worries than pranks, family feuds, and the occasional camping crisis.