The storm clouds thickened and his route darkened even more as night began to fall.   Thunder rumbled ominously as heavy drops of rain hit the ground, and he urged Ithildin on with relentless haste. 

He knew that in the hills behind him, rain would already be falling heavily, filling the rivers and streams, sending the water levels ever higher.  Too high.  Pinned helplessly among the great boulders and flood-borne debris, his brother could not escape and would be trapped as the water rose inexorably about him.

~~o~~o~~

It had started out as a normal, routine patrol.  He and Elladan had been riding in the south of Imladris, inspecting the streams and riverbanks for damage after the winter storms.  Their task was to repair or clear what they could, assess more serious damage, and inventory what restorations were  needed.  The two-day mission had gone well, and the second day had found them riding north again along the banks of a steep-sided stream.  The water level was low, very low, and as they rounded a turn they saw ahead a heavy logjam.

Flood-borne debris had built up behind fallen trees and branches, damming the stream.  A deep, wide pool of water lay behind the dam, lapping at the banks, and threatening to spill over into the surrounding woodland.  They drew the horses to a halt and gazed at the blockage, assessing it.  

Elladan pointed to a tree near the centre of the dam.  “If we can get a rope around that branch, then Vorondil or Ithildin can pull the tree clear.  I think the rest will break up naturally.”

Elrohir nodded as he took a coil of rope from his shoulder.  Tying a loop in it, he whirled it over his head and cast the rope towards the tree.  It fell short of the branch he was aiming for, and he pulled it back, ignoring Elladan’s laughter.  “Bad shot, little brother!  Arwen could do better!”

Paying no attention to his twin, he threw the rope again, but this time it snagged on a tangle of brambles.  He sighed as Elladan jeered again.  “Do you want to try?”  he asked mildly.  “If you think you can do better, you do it!”

To his great satisfaction, Elladan had no better luck, and the rope became tangled among a cluster of small branches and an uprooted thorn bush.  Elladan swore.  “We will have to climb out and tie it around the tree.”    He looked hopefully at Elrohir.  “Do you want to do it?”

Elrohir shook his head.  “No.  Anyway, it is your turn to get wet!”

Muttering under his breath, Elladan shed his cloak and waded out into the water, waist-deep.  He could not quite reach the caught rope, and climbed up onto the tree to pull at it. 

There was a sudden sharp crack, and the entire dam shifted.  Elladan, off balance, lost his footing on the slippery trunk and with a cry of pain, fell among the tangled roots and branches.  The tree shifted and swung around, pressing against him and pinning him down in the water.

With a splash and a sharp curse, Elrohir was beside him in seconds.  “Elladan!” 

He braced the tree against his own body and tugged at Elladan, but the tree would not move.  Elladan gave a gasp of pain as he struggled.  “Stop, El, stop!”  he cried.  “My leg – it is trapped.”  He drew a deep breath.  “Broken, I think.”

Elrohir nodded grimly.  “I will get Ithildin to help move the tree.”   He lashed the rope to a projecting branch, and splashed back to the horses.  “Pull, Ithilden!”  he urged.  “Pull!”

The rope quivered under the strain, but the tree did not move.  “Pull!”  he cried again.  At last he admitted defeat.  The tree was too tightly wedged against the other debris and river boulders.  He returned to Elladan.  “El, it is no use.  I cannot shift the tree. Are you sure you cannot move?”

Elladan shook his head.  “No,”  he said tightly.

Elrohir ran a grimy hand through his hair.  “Then I will have to get help.  Stay here.  Wait for me!”

Elladan managed to grin.  “I am not going anywhere, little brother.  I wish I was.  Go, El – and hurry.”  He cast an anxious look at the dark clouds massing overhead.

Elrohir took a long look at his brother.  He did not want to leave him like this, alone and helpless.  He did not – but what choice did he have?  At last he gave a sharp nod.  “I will go as fast as I can, and leave Vorondil here.  Elladan … I will come back.”

~~o~~o~~

He kicked Ithildin again, tormented by the terrifying images that assailed him.  Exhausted, the horse stumbled once more on the rough track, and they nearly fell again.  “Just a little further,”  he urged soothingly.  “It is not far now ­­­– we are nearly home.  Then we can get help, and you can rest.”  

The rain pounded down more heavily, turning the track to thick, slick mud.  Overhead, lightning split the sky and jagged streaks of light burned his eyes.  Thunder crashed deafeningly as the air was ripped apart, and Ithildin screamed in terror.  He shied violently, pitching his rider over his head.

Elrohir hit the ground hard, and lay dazed and winded for long moments.  Slowly the ringing in his ears eased and the darkness surrounding his vision lightened a little.  He picked himself up stiffly, scarcely noticing the pain in his arm and shoulder, and turned to Ithildin.  The horse hung his head, trembling, one foreleg lifted off the ground as his flanks heaved from the desperate exertion.  It was quite clear that he could go no further. 

Elrohir sighed in despair.  He moved closer to Ithildin, soothing him, and slipped the saddle and reins off.  “Stay here, then,”  he agreed gently.  “Rest now, and wait for me.  I will be back.”

Pain seared through his ankle with every step he took, but he did not take time to examine it.  He had to go on regardless, and once he removed his boot he would probably not get it back on.  Instead he tightened the lacings and took an awkward step.  It throbbed, but was bearable. 

He set off again, limping, but running as fast as he could.  Lights began to flicker on the edge of his vision and he shook his head to clear his sight – but the lights remained.  

With calls, and cries of concern, and questions, the patrol converged on him, and he began to gasp out his message.