A Narrow Escape

Elladan’s journey should have been simple – a visit to a settlement of woodmen, who had recently been granted leave to live beneath Elrond’s protection in a remote corner of Imladris; and an opportunity to ride Elrohir’s horse Tathren, in an attempt to train him to accept other riders on occasion.  But nothing was ever that simple. 

It happened with a devastating suddenness. One moment Elladan was riding along the woodland path, enjoying challenge of a different horse, and the not quite familiar feel and movement beneath him.  In the next instant a wide-eyed youngling, on a horse far too big for him, and far beyond his control, rounded a bend in the track at a full gallop. 

Elladan reined Tathren back hard, pulling him to one side in a faint hope that the two horses might have a chance to pass each other harmlessly.   Amrûn would have responded instantly, but Tathren, protesting at this rough treatment by anyone who was not Elrohir, hesitated for a moment too long.  The track was narrow here, bordered by thick scrub on one side, and by a steep bank on the other, leading down to a swift-flowing river.  There was no room.  There was no chance to avoid a collision.  The other horse, nostrils flared, his eyes wild, slammed into Tathren without slowing or breaking stride.  

Tathren was struck, hard, on the shoulder.  With a shrill neigh he stumbled and fell on his knees, pitching Elladan over his neck and throwing him headlong down the steep bank.  Elladan was aware of a dizzying whirl of colours as he fell, and tried desperately to grab at branches, roots, anything to slow his fall.   There was a shock of cold as he plunged into the swirling river.  He gasped as he hit the icy water, choking on a mouthful of liquid fire, and pain shot through him as he fell against the half-submerged rocks.  There was a blinding flash as his head struck one of the boulders, and then he plunged into darkness.

o-o-o

There were hands pulling at him, shaking him, and a distant voice calling.  With a groan he tried to push the hands away; wondering vaguely who would prod at him like this.  Pain speared through his shoulder as he tried to move his arm, and he bit back another cry.  “Stop it, El,”  he mumbled.  “It hurts!”  But the words would not come.  Fire spasmed through his chest and he began to choke, coughing up a mouthful of bitter water before he could breathe again, gasping harshly.  His head throbbed and spun, and everything hurt.

The shaking stopped, and the voice became clearer.  “Are you awake?  Can you hear me?”  The voice was worried, and totally unfamiliar.  As the realisation dawned on him, Elladan blinked, and tried to force his eyes open.   A pale blur hovered above him, a blur that gradually resolved into a face – one that he had never seen before.  It took him a while to realise that the face he saw matched the voice he had heard

Elladan blinked again.  Leaves danced overhead, flickering against the sky.  Slowly he drew his gaze back to the man looking down at him, worry and concern obvious in his expression.  “Can you hear me?”  he asked again.  “Can you see me?”

Slowly, hesitantly, Elladan nodded.  He coughed again, expelling more water, and gasped for breath before he could answer.  “Yes,”   he croaked.   Yes, he was awake; yes, he could hear the man; yes, he could see him.  He felt sick and dizzy; but yes, he was alive.

The man nodded.   “Good,”  he smiled. “That’s good.  Who are you?  What’s your name?”

“Elladan.”

The man stared at him.  “Elladan?  Son of the lord Elrond?  Are you sure?”

Elladan thought for a moment, trying to gather his scattered wits.  “Yes,”  he agreed at last.  “I am Elladan.”  He closed his eyes again.  The effort of thinking, of speaking, was overwhelming him, and the dizziness and pain growing too much to ignore.   It was a relief when the cold and darkness claimed him again.

o-o-o

When he next awoke, he was somewhere else.  It was dark, but a red glow at the corner of his vision flickered dimly, and he turned his head slowly towards the fire.  There was a scent of wood smoke, but it could not quite hide a sourer smell of unwashed bodies.  His wet clothes had been removed and he now lay beneath a rough woollen blanket, warm and dry.  The sharp stabs of pain in his shoulder, chest and leg had faded into duller aches, but he was still acutely aware of the various injuries.

“Oh, are you awake?  How are you feeling?  No, don’t try to move.”  It was a different voice, a woman this time.  A wooden floorboard creaked as she moved to his side and sat on a small stool.  She peered at him by the flickering light of a candle, nodding and smiling. 

“Where are we?”  Elladan asked her curiously.  “How did I get here?”

The woman smiled again, and patted his hand.  “My Tom found you.  You was hurt quite bad, so he brought you here, to our house.  I patched you up, and then waited for you to wake up.”

Elladan nodded.  “Thank you,”  he said simply.  

She turned her head, and called.  “Tom!  Tom, he’s awake.”  Returning her attention to Elladan, she patted his hand again and straightened the blanket covering him.  “Now you just stay there, and let me look after you.  I’ve some nice chicken soup for you.  I’ll go and get it.”

She bustled off, leaving Elladan alone again.  Still a little bemused, he tried to piece together what had happened, and where he was now.   Things had occurred so quickly that his memory was confused and blurred, but there had been a runaway horse, and poor Tathren had had no chance to avoid it. 

His muddled thoughts stopped dead at that point.  Tathren.  Where was he?  “Your pardon, mistress!”  he called urgently.  She turned and gazed at him.  “Tathren – the horse I was riding.  Where is he?  Was he hurt?  Did – did your husband find him?”  He waited anxiously, praying that Tathren was unharmed.  How could he have forgotten?  If anything had happened to Tathren, Elladan would never forgive himself – and Elrohir would kill him.

There was a heavier tread outside, then the man he had first seen – Tom – entered the house.  “Hello there!  It’s good to see you awake again.  You look a little better than you did before!  Now, don’t you worry about your horse.  He took a bad knock, but not as bad as you did!  He’s damaged his leg, so you won’t be riding him again any time soon – but you won’t be going anywhere soon in any case!  So don’t you worry.”

Elladan breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thank you.  Thank you.  He is not my horse, but my brother’s.  If anything happens to Tathren, Elrohir will kill me.”

“Oh now, I doubt that.  If he’s your brother, he’ll be more concerned about you, I reckon,”  Tom said easily.

Struggling to sit up, Elladan nodded.  “Yes.  Thank you for your care, but I cannot stay here.  My family – they will be worried.  I must go home.”  He pushed himself upright, throwing the blanket back and trying to ignore the pain and nausea that immediately made themselves felt again.

“Now then, you don’t want to be doing that!”  Tom took a stride towards him and eased Elladan back down.  

“But I …”

“Just stay there,”  Tom insisted.  “You’ve got a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, a broken wrist and a broken ankle.  Barra’s patched you up, but you’re not fit to be going anywhere for a week or two.”  He suddenly looked grim.  “I pulled you out of the river.  If I hadn’t come along when I did, you’d have drowned.  And I know whose fault it was, too.  I saw him.  Now,  I’ll send word, don’t you worry.  I’ll tell Lord Elrond, and your brother.  We’ll let them know where you are, and what’s happened.  Now, you stay there, and Barra will give you some of her chicken soup.”

Elladan subsided, having the sense to know when he was beaten.   Perhaps he would stay – just overnight.  His head still ached fiercely, and it was true that he could not move his right arm.  He could not ride, and he could not walk – so he would stay.  He nodded again.  “Thank you,” he repeated.

Barra placed a steaming bowl on a table beside the bed, together with a spoon and a platter of freshly baked bread.  She eyed him warily.  “There’s soup here.  Can you manage on your own?  I’ll help if you want.”

“Thank you.  I can manage, I think.”  He took the spoon awkwardly in his left hand, and tried the soup.  It was warm rather than hot, and soothing to his stomach.  He dipped a little of the bread into the broth and ate that, too.  He managed about half of the bowl before the effort became too great, and he put the spoon down before he dropped it.  “Thank you, mistress Barra,”  he said sincerely.

She smiled.  “You rest now.  There’s plenty more for later.  And we’ll send one of the boys to Rivendell to tell your folks. Don’t you worry now – just rest.”

Elladan would have protested at the way she was ordering him about, but exhaustion was sweeping over him like a wave.  He blinked once, then again – and while his eyes were closed, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

o-o-o

The next morning he awoke to bright sunlight streaming in through the open door.  The aches and pains had diminished, and his head felt clearer.  He sat up cautiously, and flung the blanket back – then pulled it close again even more rapidly.  “Tom!”  he called urgently.  “Tom!”

The man appeared in the doorway, looking alarmed.  “Yes?  What’s wrong? Are you feeling badly again?”

Elladan shook his head.  “No – I feel a great deal better, thank you.  But where are my clothes?”

“We took them to wash them, and dry them.  Barra’s just mending some rips and tears.  Will you be wanting them?”

“Yes,”  Elladan pleaded.  “I want to get dressed.  I want to get up!”

“Well, Barra will be finished in a minute.  In the meantime, she’s got some more chicken soup for you – or a stew, if you’d prefer.”  Tom grinned.  “She reckons you need feeding!”  He pushed the pot of soup back on the stove, and rummaged in a small chest.  “There.  Here’s some trews of mine.  They won’t quite fit, but they’ll do for now.  And here’s a stick.”  He gave Elladan a knowing glance.  “The privy’s out the back!”

Elladan nodded gratefully.  By the time he returned he still leaned heavily on the stick, but was beginning to get the knack of walking with it.  A bowl of soup had been placed on the table, with more of Barra’s bread.  He sat down again, tired and aching, but triumphant.

Barra bustled back in.  “There.  I’ve mended his clothes – oh, you’re up!”  she scolded.  “Did you ought to be out of bed yet?”  Her accusing gaze switched to her husband.  “Why did you let him get up?”  she demanded of Tom.

“He wanted to,”  he protested. 

Her gaze swept them both.  “Men!”

Elladan ate silently, hungry now, finishing the soup and all the bread.  He looked up at Barra and smiled.  “My thanks, mistress.”

 “Men!” she snorted again – but her glare was softer this time.  She averted her gaze while he dressed, then allowed him to hobble out to the front of the house and sit in the sunlight on a bench there.  She talked constantly as she worked in the small garden, telling him of Tom, and their sons, and how grateful she was to have the opportunity to bring up her family in the peace and safety of Rivendell.  “Of course, it’s not all safe,”  she added.  “There’s accidents, and wild animals, and falls.  It’s how I know how to deal with broken bones.  But I can sleep safe in my bed at night – even if Tom and the lads are off hunting.  And there’s not many places where I can say that!”  At mid-morning she vanished into the house, producing a cake and cutting a thick slice for him.  “Eat it,”  she persuaded.  “You need to build up your strength.” 

As she spoke, a young boy came out of the trees.  “I’m back, Ma,” he announced unnecessarily.  “I found one of the patrols, and told them.  I thought it’d be quicker.  They said someone would come.”

Barra patted his cheek.  “Good lad.”

“Thank you,”  Elladan added.  “My brother will be most concerned – I should have returned last night.”

“Well, at least now he knows what’s happened.  Will he come himself, do you think?”

Elladan nodded.  “I know he will,”  he said with certainty, and smiled.  “I must warn you – you will find his appearance something of a shock.  We are twins.”

Barra glance at him.  “Ah yes, I had heard that.  You look alike, then?”

“A little.”

After the mid-day meal – a hearty stew, with potatoes and more bread – Elladan persuaded Tom to take him to where Tathren was stabled.  The horse looked up as Elladan approached, then dropped his head again and ignored him.   “I know I am not Elrohir,”  he apologised.  “I wish he was here as well.  But he will come soon, I promise.”

Tathren snorted. 

“I know.  I am sorry – I should have taken better care of you.  This would not have happened if you had been with Elrohir,”  he confessed.

Tom watched with a smile.  “You talk as if he can understand you!”  he laughed.

“Oh, he can.  He is sulking because I took him out yesterday – and he is missing Elrohir.  Soon, my friend, soon,”  he promised.  He examined Tathren’s shoulder and forelegs.  He was bruised, and one leg was slightly swollen; but unburdened, he would be able to walk back to Imladris in a day or so.  Holding the stable door open, he let Tathren out into the clearing that surrounded the house.

“I didn’t like to let him out, in case he wandered off,”  Tom said.

“No.  He will stay.”  Elladan returned to the bench to rest, his ankle, shoulder and wrist aching, and dozed in the warm sunshine.  He woke and looked up as Elrohir rode into the clearing, leading Amrûn behind him.  Elladan pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the stick, and limped to Elrohir’s side as he dismounted.  “El!  Thank the Valar!  I am so glad to see you!”  he exclaimed.  “But Tathren – I am so sorry, Elrohir.  If only I had taken more care of him – if I had paid more attention I might have been able to avoid the other horse.  Forgive me, El – I never meant for him to be injured.”

Elrohir cast a swift glance at Tathren, who stopped grazing and walked slowly over to greet him with a snort of welcome.  “He looks fine to me,”  Elrohir reassured him, patting Tathren absently.  “Do not worry, El – you are the one I was most worried about!  Are you well?  Let me look at you.  Are these people looking after you?”

Elladan gave a groan.  “Aye – too well!  Barra is a remarkable woman, but she insists on fussing over me.  She keeps feeding me chicken soup, and stews, and cake.  I will be as fat as old Dickon Butterbur in Bree if I stay here any longer!”

Elrohir laughed.  “You certainly sound fine!  If you are complaining, that is always a good sign!”

Barra came out of the house to greet Elrohir.  She stared at him, then looked accusingly at Elladan.  “I know you said you looked alike, but still!  Now, Tom told me that young Hal’s just come crawling back home – he’s the one who sent you off the path,”  she added.  “Do you want to see him?”

Elrohir nodded.  “I certainly do!”  he demanded, his eyes flashing.  “Will you send him over?”

“He’s here,”  Tom growled.  “I brought him with me.  I thought you might want to talk to him!  He'd been drinking, too,”  he added in disgust.  "Drinking his Da's ale!" 

Hal was a thin, sullen boy, who scowled at the ground.  “I didn’t steal the horse,” he declared.  “He’s my Da’s.  And I proved I can ride him!”

“He was out of control, and you know it!”  Elladan snapped.

“But I could’ve managed him!  If you hadn’t got in the way, I’d have been able to stop him!

Elrohir took a slow, deep breath – an ominous sign that meant he was on the verge of losing his temper.  “And what happened,”  he enquired in a deadly voice, “when you met my brother on the path?”

The boy scuffed his feet.  “He fell in the stream, and I thought he was dead.”  He hung his head low, and would not look at anyone.

“So you left him there to drown!”  Elrohir hissed in fury.  “Did it occur to you to see if he was alive?  To see if he needed help?

“Who are you to tell me what to do?”  Hal sneered.  “You don’t own this valley!”

“Oh, but I do,”  Elrohir said softly.  “You – and your family – are here by Lord Elrond’s grace.  We are his sons.   And in my father’s absence, I have the right to give you leave to stay or go.”

Hal blanched.  “No – please!”  He dropped his head again.  “I’m sorry,”  he mumbled.  “I shouldn’t have took the horse.  And I shouldn't have been drinking.  And I shouldn’t have left you like that,”  he added to Elladan.  “I thought I’d killed you.  I was scared.  I’m sorry.”  He looked up again.  “Please don’t send us away.  My Ma – my sisters – they feel safe here.  Not like  when we was in Maldon.  Please,”  he begged. 

Elrohir hesitated for a long time, making the boy squirm.  Elladan could sense  his true repentance now; his shame at the blind panic that had caused him to flee; and guilt at the cost his foolish actions would have on his family.   

“Please,”  Hal whispered again.  “Not for me – for Ma.”

“Very well,”  Elrohir said at last.  “You may stay.  But know this.  Your actions nearly cost my brother his life.  If that had happened, no amount of pleading or regrets would have spared you the wrath of my family.  Nothing.”  He gestured with his hand.  “Now go.  And I do not want to have you brought to my attention again, or my decision may change.”

Hal nodded.  “Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir,” he gasped.  “And I’m sorry!” he added as he fled.

“You won’t be seeing that one again for a while,” Tom predicted.  “He’ll keep himself very quiet.  Won’t dare do nothing else!”  He glanced at the sky.  “Now, it’ll be dark soon.  You’ll stay the night, of course.  Barra’s made a fine stew!”

The End

Author Notes:  For my LJ friend Elladan, who was injured in a collision with a drunk driver last week. He too had a very narrow escape.