Title - Alone

Author - Jules

Rating - PG 13

Disclaimer - They do... I don't. The lyrics in the fic are 'Goldie's Theme' from the Water Rats Soundtrack.

Summery - Elladan and Elrohir are ambushed near their home.

Authors Notes - Again, I don't know where the mink this one came from. Twas in a strangely morbid mood when I wrote it. The fight sequence was inspired by a bout I saw during my sword lessons (yes.. I'm taking swordfighting lessons...very sad I know!), one of my masters had two daggers, and was attacking one of the other masters who was unarmed. The unarmed one used to brilliant grapples to disarm the other, twas quite the spectacle! Also... I had been dared to write a story without names, here I believe I have done so. The only names that are mentioned are those of minor character, and those needed to be there to provide some kind of continuity.

Dedication - To all the guys and girls at Stoccata School of Defense. To Sonbon and the Pak-ettes, and to Katie my northern buddy!


Step after step, foot after foot; slowly returning to the place of their birth, but only one was returning alive. Silver tears mingled with tangled mattered hair as they traced the lines of many before them, slipping silently down the pale face, only to drop onto the still silent face of another. Still and silent, pale and translucent. Dead.

Step after step, foot after foot, ever closer to their home, but a home it would be no more without the joined laughter at the antics of both twins who resided beneath its high ceilings. There would be no more laughter, only sorrow, pain and grief, a grief that would most assuredly take another life before its course was complete. He knew not how to cope without the ever present feeling of his brother. Always there, always close, but never again.

Wake me when this day is over,

I'm drownin

Wake me when this game is over

Take me away

He knew there would be questions as soon as he was sighted within the borders of Imladris bearing the body of his brother, but he had no inkling as to how to answer them. How did his brother die? He was not certain of the exact sequence of events, only that he had awoken from a sharp blow to his head to find his dear twin dead on the churned earth beside him. Fragmented scenes flashed before his mind's eye, showing him snippets, snatches, but never the full picture. When he had gone down, his brother was alive and fighting, valiantly protecting the almost unconscious form of himself. When the darkness finally overwhelmed him his brother was standing; but when he returned to the light, all life had fled from his brother's body leaving only a cooling corpse, dark blood slowly conjealing about the wounds that covered his torso, seeping through the shredded cloth of the hunting tunic and mixing with the damp earth beneath them.

More pieces came back to him, fleetingly showing themselves before vanishing back to the realm of jumbled thoughts a concussion leaves as one of its markers. Men, there were several men, but not with swords, they were armed only with short daggers, the rapid spinning circles of the blades making it difficult to judge the trajectory of the blow. The twins had discarded their bows in favour of their own blades, the elegant curved swords of the Sons of Elrond gleamed in the dim lighting, reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight in their grooves as they too joined in the dance of death. The men wore crudely sown hides of thick leather as armour, the tough surface barely allowing the steel of the elvish blades to make a mark, yet the elves were largely unprotected in their suede hunting tunics and silken shirts.

Vastly outnumbered the elves had little chance of escape, the group of seven men easily closing off any every avenue before picking the fight. They were thugs, bushrangers, men living off the poor unwitting souls they happened to come across and rob, taking all worthy positions and weapons, then leaving their victims to die of exposure in the cold forest during the bitter late autumn nights.

Wether the men knew they were elves before they attacked or not, the still slowly moving figure would never know. He only knew that one minute his brother and himself were reclining alone the bank of a swiftly moving stream, basking in the late afternoon warmth, enjoying the final kiss of sunlight before it passed beneath the trees and mountains to signal the coming of another bitter night. They were just about to rise and move off, realising they had tarried too long in the now completely shaded glen, and knowing they would be pushed to be home before they father started to worry. The twins had promised to be home before nightfall, bearing meat to be used for the upcoming feast that marked the start of the winter months. He never saw where the men came from, only that they seemed to appear from everywhere at once, pushing the twins back towards the rushing stream with their gleaming daggers and sheer numbers. Standing back to back they had decided to make a stand, for escape was not an option being hemmed in on 3 sides and a rushing torrent on the fourth. They knew it would not be an easy fight.

He took first blood, his long blade easily surpassing the distance of the short dagger to slice deeply into the arm of the closest male, he withdrew, clawing at his arm and tossing his dagger to a companion. This one moved forward, keeping both blades moving and attempting to confuse the elf as to which direction his attack was going to come from. He thrust his right blade towards the elf lord's shoulder then feinted down toward his ribcage before bringing the left around to stike him hard on his temple. He felt his body go slack as pain erupted from behind his eyes, exploding with black flashes across his vision and making him wonder who in the name of the Valar turned the lights out. He lay on the moist earth watching his dear brother as he fought again the 6 remaining men, trying to kill them, disarm them, scare them into leaving the twins alone. Alas it did not work.

From his vantage point on the earth the fallen twin could see most of the struggle, but not all of it. 4 of the men he saw, the other two were obscured by the fighting form of his twin. They managed to disarm his brother, grappling his arm as he attempted to aim a cut at the neck of one of the men. They twisted his wrist until he instinctively let go of his weapon, if only to save his arm from being broken then and there. Perhaps that would have been the better option in hindsight.

Disarmed and in a hopeless fight the twin used ungraceful but effective grappling and wrestling techniques, taught to them upon the insistence of Glorfindel for the express purpose of disarming an opponent using nought but your hands and body. A knife darted towards the elf, who took the opportunity to grab the incoming hilt and use it to his advantage, pulling the large man closer and slamming the heel of his palm into the man's nose, neatly ending its miserable existence. He whirled and continued to use the lunges of the men against them, sidestepping then either disarming them or downing them until only two were left.

It was at this point the darkness claimed the fallen elf as its own, shielding his eyes from the last moments of the battle.

He was almost sure that his brother would be victorious, after downing 4 of the brutes, he only had two remaining, which was not an altogether difficult task for an elf. But when light once again graced him with its presence he was the only one alive in the glen. The bodies of man and elf alike strewn haphazardly around him as the mist of early morning started to rise with the warmth of the new sun. He had crawled to where the fallen form of his brother lay, face down upon the damp earth, deep gouges apparent even in the back of his torn tunic. He felt for a pulse and found none beneath the cool still skin of his brother's neck. No breath filled his brothers lungs, no blood pulsed though the veins made in the very image of his own. He was truly alone. He rolled the body over, his eyes taking in the broken body of his twin and the open unseeing eyes that were a mirror of his. He gently closed the cold eyes, and gingerly knelt, gathering the form of his brother into his arms. He rose unsteadily, swaying on his feet as the pain from his concussion reacquainted itself with his body. One step, then another, and slowly he made his way back towards Imladris.

Tell me that the day is over

Tell me I'm dreaming

Tell me that this game is over

Just take me away

Time lost all meaning as he silently bore the body of his twin back to their home. He could not remember making a conscious decision as to which direction he should head in, but his feet slowly made their way along the twisting winding path that followed and rose through the escarpment to finally arrive at the steps of his home. He heard the galloping of hoofbeats around him, but his mind barely registered the fact that they would have been missed and search parties sent out when they didn't return. A small troupe of warrior elves were walking in the woods just to his right and saw him, but did not make a sound. The stoic stance and the silent tears told them all they needed to know and they quietly formed a guard of honour around the twin and the fallen Lord, allowing no harm to come to the body as it was borne on its final journey home.

He crossed the stone bridge and ascended the stairs to his home, moving past his father and foster brother, past his shocked sister and towards the room he had shared with his twin since they were born. His family felt into step behind him, each step aching with the grief now etched into their features. Finally reaching his room he eased the door open and crossed the floor, before ever so gently easing the body of his brother onto his bed. A blanket was thrown around his shoulders and he had memory of placating words being whispered by one of the servants as he was led away to his own bed and set upon it. His father was there soon after, silently examining and dressing his own wound before tending to the body of his brother. Exhaustion soon claimed him and he drifted into the dark void of sleep, dreams eluding him as his body tried desperately to heal itself.

Wake me when the day is over

I'm drownin

Wake me when this game, game is over

Please, lead me home

To Be Continued.