[astarielle]

"Take this!" Arathorn said, throwing a sealed letter to Elladan. "Give it to Elrond. He will understand. We are no longer important! You must go! That letter is all that matters now! The future of all middle earth depends on it! Leave now! Let us die in peace and honor. There is no hope for us! The shadow has falled. A new chieftan will arise! Go, and stay your sword! You must deliver that letter!"

Orcs were pouring out of the entrance, a never-ending flow of unstoppable water. Elladan could not find the words to speak yet watched in horror as the orcs broke upon his friends. He watched with a dumbfounded expression as tide upon tide of orcs came gushing forth.

Two horses for the two survivors, yet another coincidence in the string of them which had followed the company since they left Rivendell. Yet that seemed an age ago to Elladan as his mind wondered to all things that had happened and all those that were lost, who now tread the halls of the dead. Unlike them the brother’s bodies still remained in the land of the living and in that land there was still danger.

Elladan held tight to the letter Arathorn had given him. He turned once more to the halls of Angmar, where once they and entered with hope yet exited with fear. His eyes searched for his friends once more but not even his elven sight could see them in the midst of a thousand orcs. Every time he saw a sword flash, he hoped it was companion yet as time wore on he found it harder to believe. The orcs were getting closer yet still Elladan could not move hoping that somehow the company would come forth. “Elladan! We must hurry….forget this place…now!” he heard is brother shout but the elf didn’t move until a sharp thud on his arm brought him back to reality. The elf’s eyes swam as he turned his horse and made off for home, for safety.

They had been fortunate, the only two of the twelve that had once set out on that ill-fated summer morning. They will never be forgotten, their names will live on for all eternity where time cannot touch them nor enemies slay them. Their story will be told for generations to come, Elladan would make sure of that. He looked at Elrohir and knew at once the same thoughts were running through his head as well. “Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath (May they find peace after death). Farewell my friends, my brothers.”