A bond between brothers

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by DaeTheShadow, May 1, 2009.

  1. DaeTheShadow

    DaeTheShadow New Member

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    This is a story about Elladan and Elrohir, their special bond and how it helped them to survive another trouble. I posted it at another site some time before. I need to apologize for the mistakes thay you may find here - English isn't my first language. The story's too big for one message and so, I'll cut it in few pieces.

    A BOND BETWEEN BROTHERS

    The pain was spreading through his body like a fire, embracing him, cradling in it’s welcomed arms. No light could be seen around, leaving only darkness and silence keeping him company. Elladan shivered and almost chocked from pain that ran up and down his body, coming seemingly from every tiny cell he had in him. He was alone, in darkness, dieing. The young elf felt tears stinging his eyes, rolling down scratched and cut cheeks. He had faced deadly situations before, but never had he thought that he would be forced to pass into halls of Mandos like this, left in the lonely darkness, his fate unknown to those, whom he kept dear to his heart.
    The darkness thickened, trying to swallow the last remains of his consciousness. It’s luring whisper was promising painless void, gently making him stop struggling. Somewhere in the back of his mind Elladan knew that should he surrender and went to sleep, he would never wake up again and so he struggled against the pain, against the darkness, against his own weariness. Yet he knew that his fight was already doomed to defeat. Unless some miracle comes his way. Even though his position was seemingly helpless, Elladan kept the glint of hope burning deep inside his heart, warming him, giving him strength to fight against death for another moment …

    Elladan woke up with a startle. Jerking into sitting position with the soft gasp, he was actually surprised to find himself considerably well. His breathing was labored and his heart raced like a rabbit, chased by the pack of hungry wolves, but he could feel no pain. Calming himself down a bit, the young elf looked around, almost expecting to see the all-consuming darkness. This wasn’t a case. He was sitting in his own bed, in his own room. Merry rays of sunlight were dancing on the walls, entering the room through the huge window, carved in the form of arch. Warm summer wind was caressing the elf’s skin, quickly drying cold droplets of sweat that had formed on Elladan’s brow. The elf took few deep breath, steadying himself. To his utter dismay and worry, he found his hands slightly shaking and his mind still under the impression of the horrific dream.
    A dream? Was it really just a dream? Elladan shook his head slightly, trying to make the shadow that was still hanging over his mind and heart go away. It was so real… He had actually felt all the pain, he had believed that he was dieing. Of course it wasn’t unheard of to have such realistic dreams, but this one was beating any record. Elladan wondered what had caused it in the first place. Surely he had no reason to seeing nightmares. Unless…
    Not wishing to let his thoughts wander that particular road, the young elf quickly got out of the bed. It was still rather early, but he knew his father to be an early riser. Lord Elrond had never been the one to stay late in bed and Elladan was sure that he can find his father either in his study or in the library.
    Dressing up quickly, he walked out of his room, his sight stopping briefly on the empty bed at the opposite wall of the room. Shaking his head, he turned around and went down the hall, deciding to check his father’s chambers in the first place. Knocking slightly at the beautifully curved door, Elladan waited for reply, listening intently to hear any small sound from the room.
    Seconds were slowly passing by, but there was no reply from the other side of the door. Sighing, Elladan continued his journey down the hall, careful not to wake any elf that may still be sleeping. The library of Imladris occupied a rather impressing amount of space. Hundreds of thousands of scrolls and books were being kept there, all cataloged and well cared for. There, sitting in the chair near the huge window, was Elrond Peredhil, the lord of Imladris. His ageless face was calm as his eyes moved down the page of a rather thick, seriously looking book. But at the sound of soft footsteps, a gentle smile moved to his lips.
    “Good morning, my son. I hope you slept well?” He looked up at Elladan, noting with concern the lines of trouble written over younger elf’s face.
    “Good morning, father.” Elladan tried to smile, but failed. It seemed that unlike any other nightmare, his dream wasn’t weakened by the smile of the sun, still having a firm grip over his soul. “I’m afraid, my dreams were far from pleasant.”
    “Elladan, tell me what exactly were you dreaming about?” Elrond closed the book, putting it aside and motioning for his son to sit down.
    Elladan complied. He felt that there were more to his dream than a simple nightmare and he knew that his father could be the one to explain it.
    “It was dark and silent.” He began, closing his eyes and letting the memories of his dream come to surface again. He almost gasped. Never before had he had such a weird feeling. It was like living through the dream all over again. Not even tiniest detail escaped his memory. “I… I was lying in lots of pain, unable to move. I think I was dieing… And I felt alone…”
    His voice broke. Elladan blinked furiously, trying to hold the tears that came to his eyes. The memories were so strong, that he found it almost impossible to continue the story.
    Elrond watched his son worriedly. He had sensed something wrong this morning too. Just a few minutes after he woke up and entered the library. A hint of pain that clenched his heart and touched his soul. But why would Elladan feel it so strongly? Unless…
    As if reading his father’s mind, Elladan looked up, pain and sorrow obvious in his gaze.
    “Do you think Elrohir may be in trouble?”
    Elrond locked eyes with his troubled son. What could he say? How could he know the answer to such a question? In the case like this his usually reasonable brain was clouded with a paternal concern and therefore he could provide Elladan with no real answer.
    Elrohir had gone with a few warriors to a nearby village to confirm the rumors of a recent orc attack. Elladan wasn’t completely healed from their last journey and therefore Elrond insisted for his son to stay behind. Elladan was supposed to go after his brother in a couple of days should the rumors confirm.
    “I don’t know, my son.” Elrond sighed, taking Elladan’s hand in his own. “But I hope he is fine.”
    Elladan said nothing, feeling panic and despair washing over him in a strong waves. He feared even to think about the fact that his dream might have been an echo of his twin’s real suffering.
    “Are you well enough for traveling?” Elrond asked suddenly, studying his son’s face attentively.
    “Yes, father.” Elladan nodded, a bit surprised that he wouldn’t have to argue this time, convincing his father that he had to go.
    “I’ll ask Glorfindel to take few warriors and accompany you then. I think you’ll still be able to track your brother.” Elrond said softly. He watched his son standing up, gratitude shining in his eyes, and walking toward the door. “Elladan,” he called, waiting until the younger elf turn to him, ”be careful. And bring your brother home.”
    Elladan nodded, hurrying out the library. The halls of his home had never felt so empty and silent. Although the elves were slowly returning to their daily routine, awoken by the soft light of a new day, for the young elf one important person was missing. A person that meant more than his own life to him. Elladan fastened his pace, unaware of glares and soft whispers that had accompanied him along the way. He had one goal at the moment: to find out what mass his brother had dragged himself into this time and get his twin out in one piece.
    Elladan got dressed for the journey in a record time, taking his traveling bag and refilling the supply of herbs. He made sure he had means for treating any possible injury his brother could have sustained. Strapping the quiver onto it’s usual place behind his back, he shielded his sword and grasped his bow.
    “I see that you are ready.” Soft and slightly amused voice said from the doorway, startling Elladan and making him turn around sharply. In his worry and haste the young elf failed to notice lord Glorfindel coming to stand in the doorframe of his room.
    “I guess I have a good reason for that.” He said plainly, receiving a grim half-smile from the golden-haired elf. “Are the horses ready?”
    “They would be in few minutes.”
    “Let us leave than.” Elladan said, a firm determination shining in his eyes. ‘Hold on, brother. I’m coming…’ he thought, tightening the grip on his bow. ‘Just hold on.”
     
  2. Dragn9

    Dragn9 Sorcerer Supreme

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    Even though there were a few spelling mistakes (which isn't a problem), I thought it was well written. It flowed very nicely. The first paragraph was a good opening and I think it's an interesting story so far.
     
  3. DaeTheShadow

    DaeTheShadow New Member

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    Thank you)
     
  4. DaeTheShadow

    DaeTheShadow New Member

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    Glorfindel followed the younger elf outside, watching him closely. The twins had always amused him. They could be rather annoying, pulling pranks on almost every being in the walls of Imladris and driving elder elves mad at times, but their unwavering loyalty toward each other was unbreakable. They were sharing two halves of one soul it seemed. A simple glance, jest, a single word was enough for them to understand each other. And it was something that could be described as nothing else but a great gift. Besides, although their actions were usually causing lots of curses and angered remarks, the two young elves were bringing life into peaceful existence of elves. At times like this, when one of the twins was missing or injured, for elven heart it was unbearably hard to watch the other suffering.
    Glorfindel shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He would have time to dwell on this matter later. After they find Elrohir and bring him home. And the golden-haired warrior could only pray to Valar that the young elf would be all right. Otherwise, Imladris would get into a real trouble.
    “All is ready, my lords,” A servant came, bowing in respect. “The horses are saddled and the warriors are waiting.”
    Thanking the elf and dismissing him, Glorfindel motioned Elladan to go forward, smiling reassuringly. He himself lingered a bit, locking eyes with Elrond.
    “Keep an eye on him, my friend.” The lord of Imladris asked softly.
    “I will.” Glorfindel promised, grasping his friend’s shoulder. “Do not despair. All would end up well. One way or another.”
    Elrond watched his friend joining the group of waiting elves. He knew that it would help no one if he would go on with unconfirmed worry, but couldn’t help it. His mind was telling him that Elrohir could be just fine, helping the villagers. But the feeling of dread was settling in his loving heart and Elrond knew that it would take nothing less than seeing his son to banish the worry.
    “Good luck to you, and may the Valar watch over you.” He said as graceful elven figures disappeared in the forest.


    Elrohir tried not to move, not to breath, not to think, do nothing that can multiply the pain in his body. His brain couldn’t even determined the origin of his hurts. It seemed that every inch of his body was signaling about it’s miserable state and his mind couldn’t process all of this signals. All his brain was able to do was sanding a desperate scream of pain to it’s owner. His heart was still beating, pumping blood through his veins and out of his body through innumerous cuts and small wounds he sustained. And despite the sharp pain in his chest, the young elf had to breath or rather suck in some air, complying to the natural surviving instinct. Even this small, absolutely necessary actions were adding pain, making part of his brain to wish the painless oblivion swallowing his conscious at last. Yet, another part of him screamed in protest, knowing that to sleep now would mean death. And Elrohir couldn’t allow himself the luxury of simply dieing, leaving his hurting body and joining hid ancestors in the Halls of Mandos. Because he knew far too well that his spirit wouldn’t be the only one to leave Middle Earth. His brother would follow, succumbing to despair, and that was something Elrohir wouldn’t allow. He willed himself to stay awake. ‘A little bit more,’ his mind ordered, almost bagged his body. ‘Elladan is coming. I know he is. He’ll find me. I just need to hold on. I have to.’ Inspired by this thoughts his suffering body complied in staying awake for a few more minutes, letting his will to gather strength for yet another mutual battle.