Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author’s note:

As always many thanks to my beta reader Erulisse.

Summary:

After Elladan´s death Elrohir struggles to go on. Why was this morning so different from all the others? Elrohir was going to find out……

Rating: PG-13

Chapter 1: a nightmare comes true

The piercing pain in his right side caused Elrohir to cry out in surprise and shock. Fortunately he had just dispatched the last orc charging at him because his sword tumbled out of his numb fingers.

With wide eyes he gazed down his body to look at the damage and to his utter amazement he could see nothing! He was not imagining the pain though; the pulsing sensations were still flooding his body in waves. But there was no blood, no gaping wound, not even torn clothing. But still the pain……

Realization slowly but steadily crept into his consciousness. Again he cried out but this time not in pain but with anguish. Frantically he looked around.

What he had already feared was confirmed a second later. Elladan was doubled over kneeling on the ground, his hand clutching his side. Even from across the clearing Elrohir could see blood pouring from a wound just below his ribcage.

Swallowing his anguish Elrohir ran across the clearing to kneel a second later next to his brother. Elladan was panting heavily his eyes squeezed shut. Elrohir knew instantly that his brother was badly wounded. With gentleness he caught the swaying body of his twin and lowered him to the ground.

Despite his care Elladan cried out in pain and Elrohir blanched. The wound opened more and great amounts of dark red blood pulsed forth. Elladan no longer had the strength to cover the wound with his hand. With fumbling fingers Elrohir ripped the healing pouch on his belt open and retrieved a linen roll.

Ignoring his brother’s ragged breaths he pressed the patch as firmly as he dared over the wound. Elladan moaned loudly and clutched his arm in a bruising grip. Within seconds the linen roll was soaked and Elrohir groaned with rising panic. Grabbing for another roll he looked at his brother’s face. Elladan´s face had lost all colour. His eyes were open, looking at him with a strange expression.

“Hold on, Elladan. Please hold on,” Elrohir pleaded his voice choked with tears. Tearing his gaze from his brother’s face Elrohir looked up and sighed with relief when he saw Glorfindel running toward them. He was in dire need of another pair of helping hands.

His eyes fixed on Elladan the warrior knelt down. Without a word or a question he lifted the bloodied hand of the younger twin and replaced it a second later. The look he directed at Elrohir spoke volumes. This wound was as bad as it looked.

More and more patrol members were now emerging from the woods. During the fight they had been separated from the main group of the patrol. Quickly they build a defensive circle around their Lords and Troop commander.

While still applying pressure on the wound Elladan suddenly relaxed into his brother’s arms. Elrohir tightened his hold instinctively with a sob. “Elladan no! It will be alright, please hold on a bit longer….” the younger twin pleaded unheeding of the worried looks directed at them.

“Sorry, little brother, not this time. Please just…. hold me?” was all Elladan was able to utter before he closed his eyes. Elrohir could only comply already busy trying to take away the final stages of pain through their bond.

Yet he could not prevent the inevitable. He let out a keening wail at the last echo of his brother’s departing fea.

To be continued…………..