To Keep a Promise

Chapter 2

Elladan struggles to keep his bearings as his brother's horse moves swiftly beneath him. He had pulled out the arrow and bound the wound best he could some time ago, but the bleeding has yet to fully stop leaving him worried it was laced with some sort of poison. The fatigue and unnatural pain sweeping over him in increasing waves only confirms the worrisome thought. Not to mention he feels unnaturally hot despite the rain still pouring down on him from the dark clouds above. 

A part of him wants to stop and perhaps wait to see if Elrohir and Glorfindel will catch up with him. Although he knows such an endeavor would put his health in great risk; he's steadily growing weaker and must get to Imladris as quickly as possible if he wants to survive. He knows he'll have to stop a few times along the way to allow the chestnut mare a rest but cannot delay in one spot long. He prays to Elbereth that his brother and friend will be able to fend off the orcs and come riding up behind him with smiles on their faces. A feeling a dread fills his stomach knowing if that were the case, they likely would have already been beside him, for it has been hours since they were ambushed.

If he had a better sense of himself after getting struck with the arrow, he would have stayed behind to fight with them. Instead, he had been as weak as an elfling barely able to hold onto consciousness as Elrohir tossed him on Thalia and bid her to make haste back home. He had floated in and out of darkness for some time, barely aware of the saddle moving beneath him. He's sure the only reason he hadn't fallen was due to the steady and careful pace of his brother's horse.  

Fear courses through him at the thought of riding the four-day trip back to Imladris alone and wounded. Not to mention that is only more time for him to be left wondering anxiously about the fate of his brother and friend. He attempts to keep his thoughts hopeful and forces himself to remember songs of healing and peace to calm his racing heart. He can't allow panic to overtake him less the poison flow through his blood and become more potent faster. He holds onto the hope that he would know if his brother had died, deep down he can feel his twin still out there. A fleeting thought of his mother sends a sharp spark of fear to course through his chest. Pushing the images dancing through his mind away, he instead returns his focus to some of his favorite songs. He recalls one Lindir taught him as an elfling, the lyrics slipping quietly past his lips and help him find a semblance of calm.

The rain continues to soak into his bones and soon the fire that had been engulfing him leaves, a bitter chill replacing it. He can't remember the last time he was cold and finds himself tucking his drenched cloak tighter around him though it offers little help. The forest grows darker around him and despite not being able to see the sun he knows it must be setting and soon night will be upon him. Exhaustion is tugging at him, and he knows he can't push Thalia too hard if he wants to make a good distance tomorrow. He rides for a while longer before finding a large willow with broad branches forming a dry nook that will fit both him and the horse. 

He dismounts slowly groaning when it causes his muscles to ache and shoulder burn. Thalia seems to watch him as he makes his way to the trunk using it to help him to the ground before leaning against it with a breath of relief. While a chill still fills him, he doesn't have the strength to search the forest for enough dry wood for a fire. As he relaxes into the soft grass beneath the tree he watches as his brother's horse grazes, seemingly careless were it not for her ears moving near-constant, listening for any danger that may be lurking nearby. Knowing she'll keep guard he soon finds himself slipping into the elven realm of sleep as exhaustion finally takes over. 

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His body is heavy and hot as if molten metal is coursing through his veins. For a fleeting second, he fears he's with the Balrog, once more falling into the abyss while fire consumes him. Then he realizes he is not moving; the air is not soaring by him in a mighty wind. He cannot hear the dying roars of the flaming beast or even his own screams of agony and fear as he plummets to the hard, rocky ground. No, if he concentrates, he can feel rough dirt beneath him and a voice whispering on the outside of his consciousness. He focuses on the words using them as an anchor to pull himself from the dark abyss surrounding him.