Chapter 1

Estel slowly sunk down into the tree's trunk and shivered.

Snow tumbled in from the east and a wisp of roaring wind blew in the air, as if a lion stood on top of the very mountains and it's voice had echoed down. He tugged at his robes and wrapped them around him more tightly, his teeth chattering and goosebumps forming down his arms. He could see his very breath! Foggy but there and small icicles settled down in his hair.

Estel had no idea what to do. He called himself an idiot but it was already too late to pull back what he had done. And now, he was stuck in this wretched mountain...and if he didn't do something or even eat something, he knew he'd be dead. The only difference would be how he died. He shivered again, another gust blowing his wavy, shoulder-length hair into his face. He knew he wasn't far from the bottom of the mountain. In fact, he knew it would be much easier to go down than to scale up like he had done a few days ago. However, he looked down fearfully, as he saw a small rock fall down the mountain and disappear below, into what seemed an endless abyss. The mountain was too inclined to slide down from and the ice...it would be too slippery for him, and would prove fatal.

Hearing his stomach growl, he was able to summon some of his energy to grab a fistful of snow and shove it down his mouth, numbing his mouth and teeth by overwhelming cold. However, it quenched his thirst and hunger for a few minutes at least and taking a desperate attempt to stand up, he plucked down a nearby branch as support and slowly started walking down, using the branch as a walking cane.

Only about four miles, you can do it Estel, he thought to himself.

He cursed as he nearly slipped down the mountain to his chilling death but instead he fell down, his already injured body bruising itself again as it crashed against a layer of rock-hard ice. He grumbled as his dry hands eased him up and he started walking down, slowly but earning up stamina. Now, Estel was incredibly thankful that he had been a reckless little boy when he was young. He had always been everywhere, climbing up trees, scaling the towers, lockpicking into rooms, stealing pastries, falling down the chimneys and the skill he mostly currently appreciated: running around. Of course, he had actually been quite a little shy boy at the beginning, obedient and reserved...but yeah, a year living with the twins of Imladris did have some sort of influence on you, he supposed.

Estel sighed. Imladris. How much he regretted leaving his home. He wondered where he'd be right now...for god's sake! Through this goddamn snow, he couldn't even see a thing, he didn't even know what time it was! He slightly smirked on the thought of how much his foster father, Lord Elrond of Imladris, would sermon here if he heard Estel's use of vocabulary. Estel paid thta no mind though, as some tears started founding in the rim of his gray-blue eyes. He'd probably never see his foster father again. He'd die in this stupid mountain, frozen and alone.

He cursed himself again, quickly wiping the tears off. He was now a child anymore, he remembered his true purpose on this journey. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and he'd prove his foster father and brothers wrong. He'd show his mother he knew what to do, that he wasn't a helpeless baby. He grunted as he went on. He knew how to survive, most ten year olds would've died a long time ago but he had persevered. After all, Dan and Ro had taken him to hunt plenty of times before and Estel had always loved hearing the occasional tale or tip of a ranger who stayed in the Homely House as Dan and Ro's friend.

However, he eventually gave up from not thinking about Imladris. He just missed his home so much...this was the first time he'd been away for so long! He thought of the warm crackling fire of the library, where he'd used to sit in his foster father's lap, reading from some book and eating from a tray of tea and hot biscuits. He remembered the secret waterfall, where he and the twins had often sneaked into to dive in. He remembered the dining room, delightful aromas coming out and the twins' chatter filling the room. He remembered the garden, where his mother would often go with him and point certain flowers and herbs. He remembered the planetarium, where he and Erestor would stay up late at night and point our stars and gape at beautiful constellations. He remembered the training grounds, where his blood could run fast and his sword could go free, the restless spirit in him unleashed. He remembered the stables, warm with the smell of hay and sunlight, he could even smell the homey, ground-like smell of the horses, their manes soft to lay your head against. He even remembered his bed, warm and feathery, getting tucked in by his mother and he yearned to hear her soothing, dominant words.

He groaned. When he went back, she would so decapitate him!

Estel sighed as he went further down. Light started decreasing and he gulped. If it was night time, he would need shelter. It was already cold in broad day light! How cold would it be at night? Besides, he was not as lucky as he was a few days ago, when he'd found a small cave where he had slept for the first time in days, in solace and slight warmth. However, the remaining nights had been spent curled up against some solitary, crumbled up tree bark and yesterday, he had faced off a wolf in order to have a place to sleep. And despite the fact he was young, Estel's sword did it's thing and he had even wounded the wolf with two deep cuts! He had never felt as proud of himself as a warrior. However, the wolf had escaped and in return, Estel had been injured, a jagged cut racing from his shoulder blade to his elbow and scraped, bloody knees.

After a while or perhaps an hour, Estel's dry lips cracked a small smile. He could see the faint outlines of what seemed trees or even better...a forest! Sure, in the forest, there were much more foes to face...and he didn't even know where he was! However, he would have more possibilities of living and who knows? Perhaps he'd finally get a decent meal or two! And a warm tree to cuddle in! A fond smile settled on his determined lips and his pace quickened, as did his cautiousness and his morale. Perhaps two miles more, he encouraged.

At this point, the snow started decreasing but the amount of rocks increased. They came as sharp and jagged, sticking out like deadly-looking needles. Now, Estel couldn't even walk down, for he had already cut himself eight times! No, now he had to climb down. He slowly eased his pack behind his pack and grabbing hold of some sturdy looking rocks, he closed his eyes and started down. Occasionally, his foot would hit the wrong rock and he'd fall down and although did this slightly speed him up, he figured out that he now had three more ribs broken. Eventually, limping and groaning, the young boy was able to crawl down the rocks and that was when his hands first touched the most wonderful thing in the world for him at that moment: grass.

The grass was soft and bright green. It turned out that right below the mountain, was a wide field of hip-long (in this case, chest-long for Estel) grass and wildflowers. Estel threw himself into a bed of bright daffodils and lay there for a while. The wind was softer here now, not violent like it's sister up in the mountains but soothing, as if the sky was singing a lullaby for him. He lay there, his face finally touching something soft and he let out a small laugh. Nature! Color! So many days isolated in that wretched mountain, cold and dull, almost lifeless had made him nearly insane. After all, he had been raised by nature-obsessed elves, some of that had rubbed on to him.

He knew he should be seeking shelter somewhere. He should be hunting some food for his starving stomach. He should be making plans for the next morning. But right now...he just couldn't. It was as if he was simply stuck in the grass and could've move out from the comfortable position. For a moment, he didn't care. He just wanted to close his eyes and not worry. He twisted and changed position, his face facing skywards. He could see the sky now...the stars. They looked beautiful, twinkling and winking at him like little lanterns hung in a dark painting.

He sighed and for the first time in days, Estel slept.

O-O-O

Estel had awoken early in the morning.

Tired but recharged with newfound energy, he had walked through the entire field and reached the small forest. He had climbed up a sturdy looking oak tree and had put his pack there, marking the tree with a stuck with a large big X. Then, with his sword at hand, he had set off to find some food to eat. He was a great tracker all right, his brothers had even praised him to have an 'abnormally good ability for tracking' and in no time, he'd tracked down at least ten creatures. However, Estel didn't manage to get anything for a long time. Although he sucked at archery, he wished he'd had enough sense to pack a bow. With his sword, Estel couldn't get close enough to any animal for he made too much noise and the animals had fled from him before he could strike his sword down. He had eventually gave up his search for meat and gone up some trees. He'd gotten six eggs and although he felt terrible for killing the unborn baby birds, his roaring stomach changed his mind. He also grabbed some berries he thought were 'edible' and had tracked his way back to his oak tree.

Now, as Estel sucked the eggs' yolk and stuffed himself with berries, feeding his long hungry stomach, he thought about what he was going to do next.

It had all started three weeks ago, in the dining room. The entire family was there and suddenly, Dan and Ro had spoken up about something that caught Estel's mind: Lórien. The twins were going to Lothlórien to visit their grandparents as well as to discuss some diplomatic trade issues. The young boy had always dreamed of traveling beyond the safe borders of the Last Homely House and Lórien was a placed that intriguied him. He had heard tales wilder than the Western Lands full of dirty, barbaric mortal men whose selfishness had destroyed them all. He gagged, he was not proud to be one of their race. Anyways, back to Lórien. Estel had always wanted to go there for visit. Daeradar and Daernaneth always came for visit on Yule but he never got to go there, they had always insisted that he was too young and it was 'too dangerous for him under normal circumstances.' But this time, he was going and there was no staying silent. He knew how to fight. Survive. Live. Climb. Run. Swim. Everything he needed in the wild he already knew and he'd spent at least half an hour in the dining room, trying to convince them but to no avail. With a now somber face, the father and sons had said no to Estel with no hesitation. Eventually, he'd been rude enough to insult his foster father's father, the great Earendil and Elrond, in a fit of quick anger had grounded him into his room with a growl.

And that is why a day after the twins had rode off to Lórien, Estel, in the dead of the night, had sneaked out of his room and into the stables, stealing a horse of his own and determined to catch up with the twins. And eventually, if he did catch up with them, they would be pretty far from Imladris and it would take forever to take him back, so they'd just sigh, forgive him quickly like they always did and allow him to accompany him to their journey to Lórien.

Good plan right? Apparently so...but eh, maybe some things went wrong there and there, leading to Estel losing track of his brothers and lost in the mountain.

Suddenly, Estel realized something as he wiped the sticky yolk and berry juices from his hands and lay against the tree, cherishing the small moment of rest. He didn't know where to go, much less where to go back. How was he going to find Lórien? He bit his lip, frowning. If he didn't get to Lórien, then he'd never get back to Imladris. He sighed and shrugged it off as he slung his small pack against his back and made sure his sword was in it's sheath. He then headed down to a nearby creek, washed his things, filling his water skin and made sure he smelled decent.

He then headed down a small rocky path, limping his way through. His feet were pretty tired and his body pleaded his mind to sleep more, at least for a couple of days. However, his mind refused to do so and only until he was mid-way on his trek, he stopped on a large rock, his legs too tired to carry him on and squeezed some water into his mouth, admiring the eerie silence of the forest surrounding him. He then winced as a small pang of pain went up his leg and realized he should have checked his injuries first.

Well done Estel, he told himself. Your foster father is a healer and the first thing you do once you're out of that wretched mountains is eat like a pig. Excellent decision...you obviously didn't learn something from father.

Estel counted up his injuries. A large cut from his shoulder to his arm, scraped knees, blisters in his nuckles, three broken ribs, a pretty bruised abdomen, scars and cuts in his feet and also a slightly infected knee wound. But otherwise, he was fine. Surely with some boiled water, athelas and some leaves as temporal bandages, he'd be as good as new in seconds.

Suddenly, he heard a noise.

It was no ordinary noise, not natural like the whistling of the wind or the chirp of the birds. Instead, it was a sickening noise, one which could make your blood curl and your heart beat faster. And suddenly...Estel realized it was a growl. A deadly growl that sounded like a very angry but drunk warrior was choking. Frightened, the ten year old boy grabbed his sword and unsheathed it. In fact, he was not allowed to use a sword yet until he was thirteen, for those were too heavy for him, like this one was. However, Estel had known that a knife wouldn't be able to fend him off from the creatures of the wild. He tried to copy a battle stance his brothers had always had in his training but failed, and he looked much more like somebody who needed to seriously urinate.

And then they burst in.

All right Estel, don't do anything stupid, instructed Estel to himself. You've seen Adar and Dan and Ro fight orcs plenty of times before. And wargs too. Surely it isn't that hard...

Five orcs, mounted on wargs surrounded the young boy. The creatures growled and tried to inch closer to the adan boy but were held back by the huge, metal reins of the orcs. One of them, with one of his ears cut gruesomely, one which Estel called One Ear, growled something at Estel, his sword pointing at him. The boy frowned, not knowing what he was saying when suddenly, one of the orcs behind him laughed, a cackling laugh indeed. Estel turned around just in time to get a large slap, the stinging red still burning in his cheek as he fell back from the force of the action.

Swollen Eye, or the one who had slapped Estel, cackled again and said in Westron, "He says that you must be our present, little adan, for we have been hungry and bored for many days and we will find you a pleasant little toy."

"Y-You don't deserve any gifts," said Estel, quickly standing up and raising his sword. "B-Besides, I wouldn't speak so freely. I have a weapon. I can fight."

All of the five orcs laughed, with One Ear being the loudest. He beckoned Swollen Eye and said something to him, with a cruel, jagged smile in his face that would have made most people scramble back in fear. Swollen Eye turned to Estel.

"He says that your weapon is a mere stick. It is like giving a knife to a newborn babe...it is a stupid choice," then, as One Ear, the one Estel suspected was the leader, grumbled something again, Swollen Eye added, "He says that you are as harmless as a rock and he says you might piss yourself if you stop shaking so much."

Estel growled and tightened his grip against his sword. Another round of laughter stretched through the group and One Ear said something, as the five headed down to Estel...and even he, who did not speak orc, knew what it meant: let the game begin.

Estel raised his sword and rose to wound a nearby warg, however, this one managed to try to swallow Estel's head and did not get injured at all. Estel evaded the attack and only after several swings of his sword, he was able to form a slim cut through the warg's neck, making it fall down lifeless to the ground. However, he paid the price. The skin at his wrist had been torn apart and was now bright and raw, as if it was on fire. His back had been unguarded as well and he'd earned a clean cut from the top to the bottom. The rest of the fight was a blurry show. These orcs were just too good and even as Estel managed to deflect them, he knew this was a lost battle. It was all too hard. In all this fighting, all he'd managed was to kill one orc. For every cut or bruise he managed to make, two injuries formed behind Estel's back. He now had thrice the number of injuries he had before and he felt as if his muscles burned up. Tears flooded his eyes...he would never go back home. Never see his mother or Imladris again. He quickly wiped them off though, if his vision got blurry, chances were he'd die faster.

Suddenly, One Ear, the one who had caused Estel the most cuts, laughed and then knocked him down to the groan, causing a cut through his cheek and making him fall down in the dry forest floor. Wincing, he tried to focus on what One Ear was saying. They weren't beating him up anymore. They were not on their wargs anymore but standing up in front of him. They had stepped back, forming once again a circle. Then, Swollen Eye came forward and laughed.

"He says that you have endured much more than what he thought," he grinned, flashing rotten yellow teeth with holes and foul-stench cavities. "He says it is a shame you will have to die and lie to waste. But you have been fun, he says, and he praises the fact that your skin would make a very good cape."

"Well," said Estel, every word feeling painful, "then tell him that I've survived much more because he has spent half of his time talking about nonsense. He's got no sense at all...after all, a capable leader would've killed me a long time ago."

One Ear growled and with a somber frown, Swollen Eye turned to Estel. He then stomped hard on Estel's infested knee injury, causing him to cry out. Then, One Ear came forward, a black sword gleaming in the daylight, inches from Estel's neck. "You seem desperate to seek an audience with death, you insolent child," translated Swollen Eye.

"Or perhaps you are too foolish yourselves to know that death is already upon you all," growled Estel, trying to act brave but knowing that there was no chance he'd survive this encounter.

Swollen Eye laughed, this time translating nothing from One Ear but talking for himself. "Ha! You have great courage, adan, to speak like you are doing. I would ask for mercy if I were like this, tied to the ground, easily overwhelmed and with a sword that would slit my neck in less than-"

However, he had not finished when suddenly, an arrow whizzed in the air and cut straight through his forehead. Almost immediately, another arrow flew in the air, a blur of green and it cut straight through One Ear's neck and his grip on the sword fell. Glad for this distraction, Estel rolled to his right to avoid the sword falling on top of him and cutting him into pieces. He then grabbed his sword, which had fallen a few inches away from him in the middle of the fight and swung it at an unsuspecting warg, killing it. However, he realized that move had caused him all of energy and all he could do was fall down to the floor, trying to regain his breath. His saviour, a hooded figure, moved with such an agility that Estel thought it was superhuman. He admired his speed and his agility, how he moved as swift as a current of water but also how quiet he was, like the wind. Easily, the figure picked up the two arrows from his previous kills and grabbing them, he used them like a knife, sticking it through one of the orc's head. Then, putting his arrows back to his quiver, he quickly turned around to block a cut with his bare hands that would've beheaded him immediately. He then grabbed his knife from one of his sheaths and stabbed the orc's gut and slashed his throat, pushing him back by kicking his chest with his feet.

Suddenly, one of the wargs turned to pounce on top of him and turned just in time for it to fall on top of him. For a moment, Estel thought he was crushed but realizing the warg had uttered a high-pitched whine, he realized the figure had managed to stab the warg's heart at the very last moment. Pushing him out of the way, he went and faced the two remaining wargs. He spun gracefully, like one of his father's dancers and after a blur of claws and knives, the wargs were down, lying lifelessly on the ground.

The cloaked figure turned to Estel. Estel wanted to scream, shout for help at least. He supposed he should thank his saviour for helping him...but after watching him kill all the orcs and wargs in less than five minutes was a pretty big impression. He gulped, opening his mouth to utter a word, something when the figure silently put a finger to his lips and pointed out to the forest. Estel heard some soft growls and the sounds of paws running against the ground and he knew what the figure meant: more orcs were coming.

No wonder, he thought. We were as loud as an orchestra.

Slowly, he saw that the figure beckoned a hand towards a path in front of him. Estel nodded in understanding and started following, trying to mimic the figure's quiet steps. The figure pointed a hand towards a tree, meaning for him to climb it. Estel obliged, not wanting to get with this guy's bad side and quickly scrambled up the branches. Huddled in the leaves, he watched as the stranger knocked an arrow on his bow, aiming at nothing in particular. Frowning, Estel watched as the arrow flew and hit a spot in the darkness. Had the archer just wasted an arrow for nothing? Suddenly, a cry came out as a orc body slumped forward and twelve growls came at once, as a dozen orcs came out from the trees. They ran towards the mysterious stranger and as quick as lightning strikes, the archer knocked six arrows and released six of them, all striking them targets. The remaining six he faced with close combat, taking out a pair of knives and stabbing two at the same time. Soon, he also had those six dead and looked back at Estel, beckoning for him to come down. Because it was coast clear.

For now.

The boy knew there were still orcs around the zone. He could feel the restlessness of the forest, the tension in the air and the foul-stench of death. He knew those orcs would eventually overwhelm them, even with this stranger's unquestionable ability. That is why he immediately obliged following the stranger as he slipped through the forest, prancing like a deer.

Moments later, they found themselves out of the forest and in a cave. It was small but it stood in a high hill, where you could get a good decent view of the forest, which was terribly little compared to the other grand forests. Estel saw that the stranger had claimed this place as his, for he saw that his pack was spread all over the floor. He was currently standing up, his back against him and he was examining some sort of herb. Estel sucked some air, his hand slowly creeping towards the hilt of his sword. It was true this stranger had just saved him...but could he truly trust him? Perhaps he was just a blood thirsty assassin. Or maybe he was kidnapping him for a bounty!

That is why as the stranger turned around to speak with Estel, Estel unsheathed his sword and then brought it down to chop off the stranger's hand.

O-O-O

AN: Whoa! That was sort of a cliffie, right? A lot of descriptions in this chapter, something I'm awfully bad at but I hope I did OK. Anyways, yeah, not very interesting. Little to no dialect. I know, I know...but it'll get good in the next chapter, I promise. After all, don't you guys want to find out if the stranger's hand got chopped off?

Hahaha, just kidding. ;) This is not Game of Thrones. But don't lie...some of you actually did enjoy Jaime getting his hand chopped off. I did, I admit.

Anyways, review, follow or favorite! Remember, criticism is cherished! Grammar Nazis are most certainly welcome! But there should be NO FLAMES! Remember, nobody is perfect and they are always learning, that is why instead of bringing the flames, give criticism and tips.

Oh, and yeah...the so very boring disclaimer: do I look like Tolkien to you? Most certainly not...I'm not even British (but they sure do have killer tea and accents). Am I one of the most talented fathers of fantasy? No. So yeah, all characters and setting go to the most wonderful Professor Tolkien.