Part Forty-Seven

"The two of you are as stubborn as mules," Elrohir said to his father as they slipped through the coarse underbrush of the forest.

"His idea of justice is skewed," Elrond said.

For once he was dressed in leggings instead of a robe, but his long, ornate tunic might well have been another one of the fancy garments he favored. Elrohir did not know how he could hunt in those sleeves, but somehow his father managed. Sometimes it was difficult for Elrohir to recall that his father had been a great warrior before he and Elladan had been born.

"And so was Lord Glorfindel's idea of love!"

"Well. Yes. Clearly Glorfindel has some issues of which I was previously unaware, but-"

"Father," Elrohir interrupted, "Do not cast Thranduil aside. The two of you need each other."

Elrond stopped walking and grabbed Elrohir by the shoulders, surprising him. He met his father's steel grey eyes, eyes identical to his own, to his siblings'. The expression on his face was so dangerous and so serious that Elrohir did not dare protest.

"If anything- anything- happens to Elladan, I will never forgive him. Do you not see, Elrohir? I cannot love him, cannot bear to look upon him, until I know that your brother is safe!"

"Elladan will be fine."

"He is chained to Saelbeth. Glorfindel is incapacitated. And he is as stubborn as a mule. He will probably get himself killed without any assistance." Elrond took his hands off of Elrohir and turned away. They continued walking through the wood.

"You underestimate Elladan," Elrohir said quietly.

"Sometimes I just do not understand what motivates him."

Elrohir sighed. "Sometimes I am the only one who can possibly understand him. But, Father, you have more in common with him than you know. Elladan is lonely, and he misses Mother. It could not be much more basic."

"No, I suppose not. You spoke to him after… after the punishment. How did he fare?" Elrond asked, sounding a bit wary.

"Well enough. He will have suffered no permanent damage," Elrohir said, smiling slightly as he thought of Elladan's lurid descriptions of what had happened to him in Legolas' bedroom. He almost would have been jealous… except that lately, he had found himself cured of his promiscuous habits. The cure was love. He was in love with Orophin. In fact, he was feeling itchy since the brothers of Haldir had been requested to accompany King Thranduil. He had not seen his lover in several hours since Elrond had been avoiding the Elvenking.

"Let us hope he suffers none from a spider, either," Elrond said.

"Father," Elrohir said guiltily, "I have a confession to make."

"What is it?" Elrond asked warily.

"Orophin and I hid some weapons near the web where they were abandoned. I told Elladan where they were when I hugged him goodbye. If he went straight to them after we left, the three of them should be safe enough by now, their only challenge to find their way back to the palace, which Saelbeth should have no trouble doing."

The look of relief on Elrond's face was boundless. He stopped walking and flung his arms around Elrohir. Elrohir could feel his father trembling.

"My clever lad," he said. "Thank you."

"You did not think I would abandon my twin, did you?" Elrohir said, grinning. "Come now, Father, we have a serious mission to attend to today. You do not want Thranduil to kill more orcs than you, do you?"

Elrond grinned at his son and let him go, clapping him on the back. "You have successfully alleviated my concerns. Now-"

But he paused, having heard the same thing Elrohir had heard. Orcs! And more than just a few!

"This way," said Elrohir, beginning to run. Elrond ran with him, and soon they burst into a clearing from one side just as Thranduil, Orophin, and Rúmil emerged from another. Legolas and Haldir were already there, backed up against a tree, surrounded by the filthy monsters. Blood and gore were everywhere, but the Prince and his guard were tiring, Elrohir could see that at a glance.

He hated orcs, hated them so very much. They had kidnapped and raped his mother and she had never recovered. She had left them and gone to Valinor because of it, and her absence had nearly destroyed their family. It was the root for his and Elladan's promiscuity, Arwen's brashness, and Elrond's melancholy. Elrohir let out a yell like a barbarian and began hacking his way through the throng.

Thranduil and Haldir's brothers immediately went to defend the Prince and the future Marchwarden. Elrohir made his way to Orophin's side, feeling only a hint of fear that something might happen to his lover. They were well out-numbered, but the orcs were slow and stupid and poorly armed.

An axe aimed at Orophin's head was deflected by Elrohir's sword. Elrohir joined them in protecting the Prince. Legolas looked tired, as if he could not last much longer. At the edge of the clearing, Elrohir saw his father surrounded by orcs. Elrond swung his sword in a circle, slicing through flesh and muscle and bone, his long dark hair swinging out in a graceful arc around him as he cut through the hoard. So many. So many orcs, and they just kept coming and coming, Elrohir thought grimly.

It happened as if in slow motion. He saw his father overwhelmed. There was no way he could fight them all. Elrohir broke free and threw himself in that direction. Thranduil saw what was happening as well and joined him. Orophin was behind him, Rúmil still defending Haldir and Legolas at the tree.

Elrohir saw Elrond fall, disappearing into the midst of the evil creatures. He heard Thranduil bellow in rage, hacking as slicing as no warrior ever had. The head of one of the orcs flew through the air. Blood flowed everywhere, soaking the trees, soaking them all. Thranduil's rage shook the forest. The orcs were frightened, became disoriented. Some dropped their weapons. Others turned tail and ran off, dozens of them fleeing the clearing. Their leader had called a retreat.

Elrohir had never seen orcs retreat before. Then again, he had never known an elf like King Thranduil of Mirkwood. In moments the elves were alone. Legolas fell to his knees. Haldir put his arms around him and helped him back up. Legolas clung to the muscular Galadhrim. And Elrond… Elrond lay on the forest floor motionless, his head bloodied. Thranduil dropped down beside him.

"No! No!" the King threw his tawny blond head back and cried out his anger, his passion, his terror. "Elrond!"

"Father," Elrohir said, but his voice was a whisper, it was gone. He flung himself down next to Thranduil and Elrond. Orophin knelt beside him, grasping his shoulders supportively.

And then, Elrond groaned. His grey eyes flicked open. "Thranduil, what are you shouting about? You will give me a headache."

"Thank the Valar," Elrohir gasped. "Father, I thought we had lost you."

"To orcs? Really, Elrohir, you should know better. You too, Thranduil."

"Do not try to sit up, you stubborn old fool. Your head is bleeding," Thranduil said gruffly, holding Elrond down.

Elrond reached up a hand from where he lay and touched Thranduil's face. A smile touched his lips. "You do care."

"Only a little," Thranduil muttered. "Hardly at all."

Elrohir smiled to himself at the Elvenking's obvious lie.