Hunted

A/N: Well, hello again! Now, everyone say 'hello' to...drum roll please THE TWINS! Their first appearance in my writing has definitely been entertaining - I can't wait to write about them some more. First, a few warnings for Hunted: strong violence and some torture (although I don't believe it will be very graphic) definitely dominate this fic...as well as plenty of tears and angst to go around. It only remains rated T, but do keep in mind that this is not for the squeamish or those who don't like seeing our pretty little Elfsies and Aragorn hurt fairly badly...But I can't give too much away! Please leave reviews, and I'll try to post every week or so...I'm not entirely sure of the schedule or how many chapters as I am still writing...Thanks!

Chapter One
A wolf crouched in the shadows of the bush. The sun had just fallen, and it was time for the last kill of the night. His eyes were trained specifically on the rabbit, two leaps away, that was sniffing curiously in the underbrush. The coarse gray fur stood up on his neck as he slunk forward, teeth barred. Paws worn by wood and stone made no noise as they treaded cautiously, the slim body hunched to the ground in anticipation. Tonight he would feast.

But suddenly an explosion of sound echoed through the forest, and the rabbit, frightened, jumped and vanished. The wolf desperately leapt after the small herbivore but his actions were in vain, for the three sons of Elrond and heir of Thranduil had spoiled his hunt.

In a campsite ten yards away sat the twins Elladan and Elrohir, Legolas, and Estel, gathered around a campfire. They, ironically, were all enjoying a well-cooked meal of rabbit and dried fruit, complete with several rounds of wine; had they known that the rabbit they were at this moment consuming was currently the object of a desperate search party in the underbrush their hunger may have abated quite significantly. But, seeing as they had no knowledge of this saddening piece of information, they continued with their merry-making, their eyes aglow in the firelight.

All of them were enjoying themselves, save for one. (This is, of course, not counting the dead rabbit and his frantic companions.)

"Always laughing at the mortal's blunders, of course," Estel muttered, trying very hard to ignore the sudden outburst of hysterical laughter from his Elven companions. He stabbed a piece of meat in embarrassment, wondering how crimson his face had turned now.

"You did what?" Legolas exclaimed, hunched over in a peal of laughter. It had been the twins' turn for story-telling, and naturally Elladan picked a favorite of his involving their mortal foster brother and his first hunting trip.

"Yes..." The mortal groaned.

"He was so jumpy-" Elladan shared a smirk with Elrohir.

"-that he attacked…" said Elrohir dramatically, throwing his hands in the air for effect, as if he were announcing a king. He held his arms, extended out, towards his foster brother, grinning broadly and waiting expectantly for the Man to finish his sentence.

"A tree," Estel muttered ruefully, rolling his eyes at him.

"A TREE!" The twins hooted. They had obviously had far too much wine to begin with and were now rolling about, roaring with laughter and clutching their sides.

"Elladan fell off his horse he was laughing so hard," grumbled Estel as he jabbed the fire angrily with a stick. In reality, he was really not that mad with Elladan for bringing it up; he was just extremely embarrassed at how terrible he was as a young swordsman.

"You did not know what you had done wrong until your sword refused to part from your 'enemy'," Elrohir added, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

Legolas shook his head with a small chuckle. "The minds of mortals are easily tricked, I see," he winked at Estel, who glared good-naturedly back.

"But the minds of Elves are easily distracted, for you did not notice that I stole your rabbit meat," Estel poked a fork in Elrohir's line of vision, and the twin reached for his plate apprehensively. Sure enough, the meat was gone.

Elladan laughed. "Brother, I believe a mortal has just outsmarted you!" he said with wide eyes and an equally wide grin.

"He...I...it could not have..." Elrohir spluttered, but Legolas patted him on the back comfortingly.

"Not to worry - I solemnly swear that I," Legolas stood proudly, placing his right hand over his heart and gazing intently at the dark canopy above him, "shall not tell a single soul that our dearest Estel has outmatched the brightest of us, or may I be turned into a drunken prince!" He let his mock-oath ring in the clearing until suddenly shaking himself and looking about in surprise. "Oh, would you look at that! I am already a drunken prince! I suppose I'm free to go, then, am I not?" Without another word he sprang onto a fallen log and shaded his eyes, pretending to search the non-existent horizon. His face lit up. "Oh, would you have a look at that?" he said in a sly undertone. "There is that red-haired beauty that I spotted in Rivendell! I swear I saw her with Elrohir one afternoon in the garden…"

Elrohir flushed a deep shade of crimson – the biggest facial expression Estel had ever seen on his brother. His twin and foster brother began to laugh at his reaction.

Legolas turned with a roguish grin to look at Elladan. "I suppose I ought to go tell her-"

Letting out a cry of protest, Elrohir launched himself at the Elven prince with a cry of vengeance. Recognizing the chance to have a good bit of fun, Estel and Elladan glanced slyly at each other, turned back to the wrestling duo and let out outrageous battle cries, leaping onto their companions. And so they spent the remainder of their evening rolling about the earthen campsite when they weren't erupting into more laughter, thoroughly enjoying the brotherhood between them.

What Estel had said was true; the minds and thoughts of Elves, ones who were renowned for their keen perception and brilliance, were indeed (at least in this case) easily distracted, especially within borders they assumed were somewhat safe. By assuming they allowed themselves to let down their guard and, basically, raise utter chaos. That distraction was about to cost them dearly.

I+I+I+I+I+I+I+I

Estel served as watch that night, despite his companions' arguing that it was he who needed rest, not they. His stubbornness in the end won over, and he was allowed half the night's observance. After four hours he was instructed to awaken Elladan so he could take over from there. Legolas and the twins extinguished the fire but let the coals and ashes flicker and glow still (for on the east side of the Misty Mountains strange creatures flocked to the light, but there was greater danger in the darkness, so one needed to compromise between a roaring bonfire and utter darkness) and bedded down, telling Estel "good night" and found themselves absorbed in Elven dreams – dreams, that at least for Elrohir, may have even included a certain red-head.

The night passed slowly for Estel, however. The shadows had long ago blended into a thick blackness that hung over the area heavily as storm clouds gathered above the tree tops. It grew extremely quiet, save for the occasional rumble of thunder and light breeze that swept through, stirring the few spring leaves on the ground and causing an eerie rustle in the treetops. Peering up at the sky in the clearing, Estel saw lightning illuminate dark, roiling clouds.

A tempest gathers.

Estel had been sitting for nearly four hours when he had first heard the storm draw near, but its rumbling mass began to ease him to sleep. His stomach, still full of rabbit, called for a nap, and so did his body weary of hunting and travel for two days. Before he knew it, his eyes had drooped closed, and the Ranger was sound asleep.

A few minutes later, Elladan looked over to see his foster brother asleep and sighed. Leave it to Estel to fall asleep in the midst of an arrival of a storm. He got up and gently laid his full-grown brother down into a more comfortable position and took his place at watch. Silently and alertly he listened to the tempest draw closer, the occasional thunder getting louder every time. The storm had awoken him. And so Elladan watched as the beauty of nature grew in power and strength until the storm was nearly overhead and ready to burst. The winds grew in strength and ferocity, but something made Elladan turn his attention from the storm and to his surroundings, and he realized with a jolt that the birds and beasts of the forest had gone silent. A foul wind blew from the east, whipping Elladan's hair into his face. He got up slowly, eyes wide and alert as they pierced the darkness for signs of movement. A warning had shot up in his head, for something smelled of danger on the air. He drew his blade quietly, still aware of sleeping friends behind him, and took a tentative step forward out of the clearing in the direction the wind had come carrying the foul scent. His ears listened hard for any sound out of place, although the wind and storm masked most of the forest sounds.

And so it was that he did not hear the hiss of enemy arrows until it was too late.

Suddenly the Son of Elrond was jolted backward by force, and out of instinct he let the momentum drive him to the ground for protection. His brother heard his fall, and Elrohir, Estel, and Legolas immediately rose. Elrohir saw Elladan clutch at a shaft in his shoulder as he was hunched over, and immediately seized his weapon.

"Elladan!" he cried, and leapt to his side. The older twin yanked the arrow from his shoulder with a wince, and forgetting the blood spilling out of his wound studied the black, crusty arrow anxiously.

"Orcs," he hissed, and hauling himself to his feet, swore and drew his sword, ignoring the flare of pain in his shoulder muscle as he moved. The sound of Legolas firing an arrow into the dark in response to two shots from the enemy made him spin around, and he saw Estel kick out the fire anxiously. The dim light would serve as a beacon and target, and already Elladan had a feeling that they were far outnumbered. "Spread out, watch all sides!" he cried, and nodded at Elrohir, who had a look of worry on his face. "We do not have time, brother," he told him softly, and Elrohir was forced to comply for the Orcs were readying their attack.

As if in response the sudden war cries of a great party of Orcs echoed through the clearing. Their thundering footsteps soon drew near enough for Legolas to see yellow eyes gleaming from afar, and he let loose a volley of arrows that were answered with shrieks of pain. But it was not enough to stem the tide. The Orcs kept coming, and they descended upon the four like mosquitoes in desire of fresh blood. The analogy was not far from the truth, for they leapt at each Elf (and Man) with a blood-lust that momentarily shocked the noble warriors. They soon recovered and met their foes with the same desperate rage, and fought bravely.

But something was wrong with Elladan.

He was stumbling often, and his vision grew foggy and slow. He felt his body weaken even as he slew enemies and more and more he had to concentrate harder. That arrow was dipped in something. Blood dripped into his eyes, and he wiped it away franticly as the world began to tilt and whirl before him. Whether it was his blood or an Orc's blood he had no time to tell, for to pause would mean to die. Kill or be killed, he thought wisely as he swung a sword at a shrieking enemy's neck. At least, he thought that was where he was swinging at. He never felt the contact of blade and flesh, for his coordination and balance never followed through, and he never slew the Orc. As his blade swung wide and he stumbled flashes of light burst before his eyes. Nothing had struck him as far as he knew, but blackness rose to engulf him nonetheless, and he collapsed to the ground.

It was Estel who saw Elladan fall. With a cry he leapt forward even as the Elf began to crumple, for he had noticed his brother's weakness and confusion. When Elladan's knees buckled beneath him Estel was still too far to be able to defend his brother's body, and he had not enough speed to reach his immortal brother before the Orcs' bodies had covered him. He shouted in anger and rage, screaming for them to release him as he shoved past, but they did not heed his words, like he knew they would do. They swarmed like termites over him, and in the chaos and twisting bodies both around Elladan and behind him he was not able to reach his Elven brother. An Orc, instead, leapt into his line of vision – vision that before had been only for Elladan – with a hideous scream. In the same moment Estel swung his sword to slay the attacker he felt the sudden prick of a dart in his side, but without a second thought he tore it from his flesh and tossed it aside. He continued on his killing spree, attacking all those who had begun to drag the unconscious form of Elladan away. But then a larger, fiercer Orc seized his attention, and he rushed forward to attack but arrows with green and white fletching suddenly peppered the Orc's chest and those around him.

Estel turned about, looking to Legolas in thanks and concern, for he had no idea how the Elf was currently fairing. But there the tall son of Thranduil stood, on a slight incline in the campsite, his bow still raised and arm reaching back for yet another arrow. Sapphire eyes met silver, and they shared unspoken thanks, but the connection was severed abruptly. Legolas had jerked abnormally, and a strange look came across his face. He pulled his gaze away, his weight shifting as he dropped his hands to clutch at his side. Estel immediately started forward, for only the worst of wounds caused Legolas to attend to himself. Elladan could not be saved now; he and the Orcs who had kidnapped him had vanished.

He drew within three yards and plain sight of Legolas when he witnessed a sight that caused his insides to churn. An Orc had driven its blade into Legolas' side – it had been that impact that had caused Legolas to look away – and upon wrenching the crusty scimitar from him Legolas had staggered slightly, reeling from shock and pain. But the attacker did it again, cackling at the Elf's suffering, and his scimitar tore through Legolas' flesh with a sickening squish and faint thud, cutting diagonally across the previous wound. This caused far more pain, for it was embedded deeper than previously. Legolas voiced his pain with a scream. He stumbled, face twisted in agony, clutching at the metal scimitar with fingers that did not possess the strength to draw it out.

Estel flinched at the terrible sound of the Elf's sweet voice straining at his vocal limit and leapt forward to save him. The prince crumpled to his knees, the sword still embedded in him, his eyes shut tightly. A flash of silver caught Estel's eyes, and he watched as the enemy that had wounded Legolas was slain by the prince's blade even as the Elf knelt in agony. He did not look at the Orc as he slew it, his arm twisted behind him as he gutted it, but remained kneeling and with eyes closed. But the sword fell useless from Legolas' hand as the scimitar was ripped from him once more as the Orc fell, and he let out a vulnerable cry of pain.

Estel caught the Elf nimbly when he toppled forward, and found the prince absorbed in pressing his perfect fingers to the sickening slashes across his side. Blood streamed from his deep wounds, and the Elven prince shuddered and gave a low moan as he shut his eyes tightly. Estel felt his heart clench and his eyes briefly closed. Valar, nothing made Legolas this weak. Nothing made him scream in such a way.

Elrohir appeared out of nowhere in the chaos, rushing to Legolas and Estel's aide, his brow furrowed in anger and worry. Standing guard over them and fighting valiantly, he saw Legolas' feeble attempts to stand. Estel helped him, but he only staggered and crumpled once more with a weak groan. Elrohir swore. That was two now. Now it was Estel and him against a force that seemed like thousands. There were probably only less than a hundred in reality, but it did not matter. They were still outnumbered, one of them gravely wounded, another unconscious and hidden away, and those that were left were losing terribly.

Estel blinked to clear his vision as two Legolas' coughed below him. His hands hung useless at his side although he knew he should be helping Legolas somehow. Something was odd. He couldn't focus, and the world began to sway. The Ranger began to wobble, and he vaguely heard his brother cry out in warning. As if dumb he turned slowly and unsteadily, looking at the Elf who he'd called brother for nearly fifteen years now. Hazily Estel raised his sword and tried to stumble to his feet to join him, because Elrohir suddenly seemed frightened and frantic when he met his eyes. He seemed to be warning him. But warning him against what?

A club smashed into his head in answer without warning, and everything plunged into darkness.

To be continued...
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