He stilled his feet; he was not quite ready to be found, yet. Though Elladan knew the Yrch would not hear him, they would smell him, not the smell of an elf though, for he had deliberately aroused the skunk and was now sweetly perfumed. He had to hold back a sharp bark of laughter. The Yrch would scurry from him and separate. 'Easy kill,' he thought savagely. It was, in truth, as he had thought. As the band approached him, his smell reached their noses and the Yrch quickly separated, trying desperately to flee. He waited but a moment, then jumped upon the Orch that was closest to him, slitting the throat quickly, but not deeply. The beast fell, clutching at its throat, trying to breathe. "I will be back," Elladan whispered with glee. He ran forward and found another, cutting the muscles in the great Orch's calves and leaving it. "Wait for me, my lovely," he cajoled. Another two in like manner were quickly maimed. 'Enough for now,' he thought darkly. 'Four should sate me for an hour or two.'
He listened as the rest of the band crashed through the woods, heading far away from him. 'If only they knew what real terror awaited them,' he thought wryly, 'they would fall on their own axes.'
He knelt by the side of the first Orch, watched as the blood trickled from the beast's throat, and smiled. "You are not in too much pain, are you?" he asked in the Common Tongue. "Let me help you." He reached down and cut off the creature's leggings, pulled out its cock, and roughly stroked it. "Perhaps this will take your mind off your throat?" The Orch howled in terror, but as Elladan moved his hand faster over the hardening cock, it moaned piteously. "I see you do like this. Mayhap a suck?"
The Orch's eyes widened in disbelief, then a yelp of pure pleasure tore from its mouth as Elladan took the member fully into his own and sucked it for one moment, one moment of bliss for the beast, and then a scream of pain and terror rent the air. Elladan took the severed cock and held it before the Orch's face. "Would you like some?" he asked as black blood dripped from his mouth. The Elf then squirted cum over the beast's face. "Were you one of those who tasted my mother?' he asked gently.
"I have found h-"
Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond all looked up at the same time, surprise and then sudden worry in their eyes.
'Glorfindel?' all three 'spoke' at the same time.
There was no answer.
Celeborn ran from his tent, mounted his steed, and rushed off, with Haldir close behind him. After only moments, a company followed.
Elrond stood, walked to his balcony and looked out - holding his hand to stay Erestor's questions.
Galadriel merely listened, no breath coming from her.
When he came to, Glorfindel tried to stand, but discovered his arms and legs were bound behind him. He lay as some spitted beast for the fire. He shivered. If it was Yrch, then he could be bound for such a purpose. But his heart told him differently. This was Elladan's doing. This time, the shiver was more in revulsion than surprise. He had seen the look upon the ellon's face when he had tried to pull him away from the dead Orch. Elladan had roared, madly, and turned upon him. Trying to shy from the blow of the raised sword, Glorfindel's head and the tree met. He could remember naught after that.
He looked about the little clearing and spied Elladan only a few paces from him. He watched as Elladan lay over the last Orch in the glen, preparing to finish the kill. Four Yrch lay dead before him, various parts of their bodies strewn about. His skin prickled as he heard Elrond's eldest speaking softly. "Now was that not something special? Did you enjoy yourself? I could offer you more, a little longer? You seemed to enjoy it so very much? Ah! But you have nothing left for me to... Wait a moment. I know what will give you pleasure." Glorfindel shrank in horror as the ellon took a large branch and thrust it into the Orch's hole. As it screamed, Elladan stood and danced about it. "That feels good, does it not?" He danced to the creature's side and thrust again and again. "There. That is for my mother. She did not so enjoy your ministrations."
"Elladan," Glorfindel whispered. "Do not do this."
The Elf stopped with one leg raised, and sobbed. "Leave me be. Go back to Aman. You do not belong here. Purity is hated here."
Collapsing, the ellon screamed. "Leave me be! Do you not understand? I killed her!"
"Elrohir says he killed her."
Beating his head against the ground, Elladan screamed again and again. "I was the one! I was the eldest! I let him talk me into the tournament for I wanted to compete. I let him talk me into staying. She was my responsibility! I killed her! "
The Orch moaned piteously and Elladan thrust his sword through the beast's throat. "There," he shuddered.
"It does naught for you."
"One less," an eyebrow rose and Elladan stood. "One less."
"Elladan. You will never kill enough."
"Ai," the ellon screamed and ran out of the glade.
"Fëanor be disemboweled!"
'Are you all right?'
'Yes, Celeborn. He has run from me.'
'Where are you? I am coming.'
'Do not bother. I will extricate myself somehow and go after him. Did you find Rúmil and Orophin? I hope they are not hurt.'
Glorfindel hung his head. 'Nay you did not find them? Or nay, they are not hurt?'
He could hear Celeborn's short laugh. 'I would prefer you do not see me this way, but as it is... I am but a league from the camp I set this morning. If you find it, you will find me south of it.'
A quarter hour passed and then two. He was beginning to think his 'hiding' place would not be found. Bushes rustled and Celeborn rode forth. The look of surprise did naught to assuage Glorfindel's rising anger - nor shame. "Speak not, just untie me," he said as Celeborn jumped from his horse.
"You are trussed well. Were you to be dinner?" Celeborn stopped in mid-slice of the Balrog-slayer's restraining ropes. Glorfindel noted the Lord of Lórien saw the bodies strewn about, their parts lying nearby.
"Elladan is still on a rampage. It is pure guilt, frustration, fear, and self-loathing that presses him onwards."
"I thought as much," Celeborn whispered.
"He is following a fairly large Yrch band. They are headed west. Their tracks are easy enough to follow. He is not far behind them."
"Glorfindel!" Rúmil and Orophin stepped out of the brush to their north, leading their horses. "Did you find him?"
"I did. Where were you?"
"We found tracks of another band of Yrch, heading westward. We think they are going to meet somewhere up ahead."
"Then Elladan is in serious trouble." Glorfindel took the reins of his horse from Orophin and mounted. "Follow me quickly if you would help me save him."
They rode, eyes scouring the land and following with ease the trail of the Yrch. Glorfindel chided himself at least twenty times for being such an easy mark. 'It will not happen again,' he thought with remorse. 'He will be the one bound the next time,' his brow furrowed, 'if he is not dead yet.'
"Hold," Celeborn whispered. "He is very near."
Glorfindel slid from his horse, followed quickly by Rúmil and Orophin. Haldir held his lord's horse and Celeborn joined them. Shaking his head in alarm and ducking behind a tree, Glorfindel pointed. To their right were at least one hundred Yrch and to their left, coming around an outcropping of large boulders was another group of at least two hundred.
Celeborn nodded, hidden himself along with Orophin and Haldir. Rúmil, upon Glorfindel's orders, ran back to the company that had followed Celeborn and bid them to silence.
The four waited, straining to see or hear Elladan. A faint whiff of odor and Glorfindel tensed. "It is Elladan," he whispered. "He has covered himself with skunk," he answered the obvious confusion in Celeborn's face. "He is downwind and hopes they will smell him and run. I think they will not be fooled twice."
Even as he spoke, Glorfindel noted the alarm and heightened activity of both groups. By now the three hundred had joined together and were speaking quite loudly about losing members of their bands. Their voices held much anger and Glorfindel began to fear for Elladan. But the Elf did not appear nor was there any sign of him.
Glorfindel signaled to Celeborn; they were now almost encompassed by the Yrch and so they dared not speak. Yet Celeborn shook his head and Glorfindel surmised Elladan was no longer close.
'That is just perfect. He bring us into the midst of them, and then he dashes off.'
Almost at once, a blood-curdling scream came from about two hundred paces from them. The Yrch looked up in surprise, began howling and rushing towards the sound, as Glorfindel paled. "Elladan," he whispered, and Celeborn agreed.
"Mayhap he saw our predicament."
"Or else the madness is worse than I thought and he is bent on being killed himself!"
Mounting, the Balrog-slayer rode off with nary a word. Celeborn turned back to Haldir and whispered, "They outnumber us more than three to one, but if we stay behind and kill off the stragglers as quickly as possible, we should even the odds."
Orophin and Rúmil agreed. Haldir, however, mounted and followed Glorfindel. The two remaining brothers separated, shadowing the band of Yrch with Celeborn and his Elves and watching for those who fell behind, quickly dispatching them. Within but moments, thirty lay dead about them. Celeborn motioned for all to mount, then screamed Celebrían's name and rode forward, followed by the best of Lórien.
In the meantime, Glorfindel found Elladan in dire straits. It seemed quite apparent that the ellon had called out to divert the Yrch, but his skill was not such that he could, by himself, take on over three hundred Yrch. Shaking his head in fury and hopelessness, Glorfindel roared and joined Elrond's son in the battle. Elladan did not look pleased to see him.
Orch after Orch fell to the Balrog-slayer's sword, but the numbers seemed not to dwindle at all. Elladan was faring just as well, and as poorly, for the Yrch never stopped coming. A scream reached their ears; it was Celeborn, and Glorfindel rejoiced. He stepped towards the ellon's side and whispered, "When this is over, we will talk."
Elladan stiffened and the Orch nearest swung. Glorfindel's sword rang against the axe, saving the Elf's life. His arm held, but his sword did not; its tip broke. The Balrog-slayer lunged and stabbed the broken end into the Orch, thrusting and twisting at the same time. The Orch fell and Elladan looked on, amazement writ upon his face. Glorfindel grabbed his arm and whipped him about, just in time to keep another Orch from disemboweling the ellon.
They fought together for what must have been at least an hour, never stopping, even with Glorfindel's broken sword. They found it best to fight back to back, because of the numbers that came against them; however, they would soon be Yrch fodder, Glorfindel knew, at the rate the enemy pressed against them.
At last, the two warriors could see other Elves in the distance, fighting as furiously. Another hour and the battle was won. Only a few of the enemy still breathed, those wounded being methodically killed by Celeborn's own.
Elladan looked about him, the blood lust finally abating. He gasped in surprise as a hand grabbed him and held him by the throat; his feet dangled in the air. "I said we will talk and that time is now." Glorfindel felt the shudder that coursed through the ellon's body and grinned. He dragged Elladan away from the battle site. Haldir walked forward, as if to follow, but immediately stopped when the Balrog-slayer glared at him.
"This will stop now!" Glorfindel let go his hold on Elladan's throat when they reached a small clearing, and grabbed both of the ellon's arms, pulling them back and holding them in a vice-like grip. Elladan could not move. Glorfindel's fury was palpable and the ellon knew he dared not speak. "Do you even know if your mother yet lives?"
The Elf blanched.
"She lives - but not because of your deeds. Would she be proud of you? Would she look lovingly upon you?" Glorfindel himself did not understand the fury that swept through him as he confronted Elrond's eldest. "Do you offer her one moment of peace because of what you do? You have corrupted Elrohir! Would that give her happiness? When she discovers what you have done, will she rejoice? Will she want to look at you?" he bellowed. "What future have you made for yourself and your muindor? You will be hated by all."
Elladan could only gasp; the pain in his arms and shoulders was excruciating.
"If I can not break this madness, I will break your body!"
Celeborn suddenly stood next to the Balrog-slayer and whispered, "Glorfindel, my friend?"
Glorfindel looked into Celeborn's eyes and gasped. He bit his lip but did not lesson his hold on Elladan.
"What pains you so?"
The keen eyes filled with anguish. "I... You do not leave those you are sworn to protect," the Vanyarin sobbed, "even if it be for vengeance." Elladan suddenly sagged in Glorfindel's arms.
"You left no one, Glorfindel. You did what you had to do, from all that I have heard."
"Not I," Glorfindel screamed! "Not I - Fëanor!
The Balrog-slayer shuddered. "We lost Elenwë in the Helcaraxë. I was behind her and saw her fall through the ice. Turgon barely saved Idril. Do you know how many others - others who listened and believed him and followed him - to their deaths!"
"Do not go there, my friend. He will be judged by the Valar. Someday. Let it go."
"I do not think I ever can." Glorfindel turned back to Elladan and let the ellon's arms go. "Your Naneth still needs you," he whispered. "If you would save her from fading, you should return to Imladris."
Elladan fell to his knees. "What have I done?"
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.