Title: The Hunter
Author: Serenity
Author's Email: serenityabrin@hotmail.com
Pairings: None
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Elrond and Oromë are destined for one another, but Elrond is destined for Celebrían too. Can the Vala save Elrond when he is kidnapped by orcs?
Disclaimer: I don't own them; they belong to Tolkien.
Warnings: angst, non-explicit torture, slash
Author's Notes: None
* * * * *
The field was suddenly filled with bright light and Elrond was temporarily blinded. Blinking rapidly as the light condensed before him, the young half-elf's heart stopped and for a moment, he forgot the battle around him. He strained his grey eyes to see a glittering white ship, alit from within, descend from the heavens. Yet even that great light was almost drowned against the darker bodies of countless birds. The mighty eagles of Manwë formed line after line as far as the eye could see seemingly all the way to Valinor. Their sudden scream caused the orcs to cower in terror as they swooped down, claws extended, but they were answered by the chill shriek of dragons, as innumerable and black as to seem as smoke covering all the land before the host of the Valar.
A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye forced Elrond to move just in time to avoid being sliced. Just as easily as his attention had been ensnared by the aerial armada, he now disregarded it, focusing on the small area around him, blocking black swords, dodging arrows as they flew by, dancing around his allies as he sought to aid them where he could. He had long ago been separated from anyone he knew and only his deep connection to his twin reassured him that Elros was well.
The night grew darker and the light of the white ship became a beacon for the forces of good as they fought on. But just as the light strengthened the armies of elves, men and Ainur, the darkness of night aided the shadowed warriors of Morgoth. It seemed that the Dark Lord had sent what was left of the Darkness that had followed in the wake of the destruction of the two trees to cover his forces, and the elves from Valinor remembered and were afraid.
Elrond took no notice. At times, it seemed as though all of his short life had been covered in darkness. His world had narrowed to the enemies around him, the ache in his muscles, the distant cries of pain that burned his heart, urging him on. Early on in the battle, Elrond's inexperience showed; he had taken a shallow swipe to his side, and had stepped on something unfortunate, which had taken him about an hour to 'walk off'. But his tiredness now had given him a deeper cut on the side of his neck that he had been unable to duck away from in time and he had been stabbed through his left shoulder, causing him to lose his shield. There did not seem to be a place on him that was not covered in blood, and disturbingly, it seemed more and more of it was his own. Several small cuts on his leg stung, and Elrond feared they were poisoned, but he knew enough healing to know nothing was life threatening, at least not yet.
Hour passed hour, and there seemed to be no end. Elrond was long past despair, and had emptied his mind of any greater thought than his immediate safety. He worried not for others for he seemed to have been pushed away from his fellows. Orcs growled at the stubborn elf, who just would not die, and they sought to push him further away, near to the remaining dragons, who had cut deep furrows into the earth into which the orcs hoped the elf would fall. But they were constantly hampered by the shifting of the earth as the Great Powers fought not far away, now pushing the earth together, now creating a deep chasm with the force of their blows. Elrond weathered the shocks, taking as little notice of them as he did all of the other amazing works wrought for this war. But he knew his plight was getting desperate.
There was no one to help here, no one to even hear his cries should he call for help, but Elrond was determined to make his death one dearly paid for by Morgoth's minions. Suddenly the earth sprayed up beside him, raining dust and stone upon him. Again the earth quaked and earth showered him. Orcs cried out as they were crushed and forgot about the lone elf. Elrond scrambled to get away from the flailing tail, for that was what it was, the tail of a wounded dragon, thrashing in pain, its eyes red with anger as it sought to destroy what it could before it was dragged down to death. Elrond could appreciate the sentiment, having it as the sole force pushing him on.
Unexpectedly, the earth lurched beneath Elrond, flinging him to the ground. Quickly he rolled to his feet, trying to run from the ailing dragon. He had taken five steps when another great lurch brought him to the ground. It was followed by others and all the while, the dragon near Elrond writhed in agony and fury. To his horror, Elrond realized that the larger earthquakes were caused by the fall of dragons out of the sky and he saw that he was right under a great battle between eagles and lizards. He fought to get back to the elven lines, but where his vision could penetrate the Darkness of Morgoth, he was hampered by thick dust and smoke. The only light that came to him was that of the Silmaril, but it was moving away, following the enemies to Angband and the Darkness quickly obscured it.
Elrond maintained his momentum, knowing keeping still would assuredly get him killed. His movements were now awkward, weariness trying to take hold of him. Still, he fought on, killing the odd orc unlucky enough to be caught near the dragons. A strangled screech sounded right above the half-elf and he wheeled around to find himself looking into the blood red eyes of a menacing dragon, twenty times his size. Gritting his teeth, Elrond gripped his sword tighter as the dragon moved toward him. He dodged the giant's front limb as it came down on him, only to have a sharp talon of the other paw strike his front. Pain shot through him as every wound made itself known and he staggered back, tripping over the body of a dead orc. The dragon moved forward, darting forward with its long neck. Elrond closed his eyes and waited. He opened them again at the howl of pain torn from the dragon's throat.
Before him was a creature of such beauty that to look upon him drove away all the pain and weariness from his bones. The Ainu before him was twice as tall as Elrond and seemed to grow by the moment, as he wrestled with the great beast. He stood between two rows of jagged teeth, keeping them at bay with his bare hands. With a savage growl, the mighty Ainu ripped the dragon's jaw apart. He drew a mighty sword and with one stroke, sliced off the beast's head. Then, he turned and Elrond was blinded again, for the fury of this being burned brightly and his spirit would not be encased by his flesh alone. With a cry, the Ainu moved onward, slicing through the dragons as he sought to follow the light of the Silmaril. Elrond looked after him, hearing the sound of a great horn, already far in the distance, that gave strength to his faltering spirit.
Another cry came from behind him, seeming frail against the howl of rage the Ainu, perhaps even Vala, had let loose. Elrond struggled to his feet just as a wave of his fellows appeared. Releasing a deep sigh, the half-elf took heart that he was not alone and he returned to the fray. It was not long after, when the earth began to quake with growing unrest and the sky was alight with lightening and fire, that Arien's light battled the Darkness, driving it back. And in that moment, the world shook as though it would tear itself apart as Ancalagon was thrown down from the sky, shattering the high towers that had blotted the sky. A great cry rang from the forces of good and they surged forward. Elrond was still very close to the front lines and he watched as the Ainur moved forward, destroying everything that was left of Morgoth's forces. Still, Elrond fought on until he found that there was nothing left to fight. Bewildered, his mind mostly asleep already, he watched as Morgoth himself was dragged from his keep. He was a twisted creature, though his strength could not be denied as he fought against heavy chains. Though Elrond was half hidden behind the corpse of a giant troll, the Dark Lord's eyes seemed to fix on him, and he growled, seeing in this small elf the likeness of the elf that had defeated him and he would not forget.
Elrond could not deny the fear that passed through him at being the focus of that evil gaze. As if in response, light blazed through the clouds, and for the first time, Elrond saw clearly the shape of the boat against the bright light and a tall figure shadowed in that light. His breath caught, and the words of his foster father returned to him. This was the Silmaril, the light of which shone brightly on them and none but his father could be aboard that marvelous ship. Elrond wished to call out, to see clearly this man who his mother had spoken of with such affection, but the ship began to rise, seemingly without noticing the small elf lost in a sea of bodies. For a moment, the weight of grief this brought to Elrond was overwhelming before his better reason asserted himself and his weariness hit him with full force. He dropped to his knees and blacked out.
~~~
A noxious odor bothered Elrond to waking. Groaning, he turned his head away from the horrid smell.
"Ah, so you finally wake," a familiar voice said. Blinking blearily, Elrond looked up to see the blurry image of his twin. After a moment, the image cleared and he allowed Elros to lever him into a sitting position. Looking around, Elrond saw groups of elves everywhere, looking after the wounded.
"H-," he started but stopped at the raw sound of his voice. Wordlessly, his twin handed him a skin of water and he drank gratefully. He swallowed and tried again. "How long have I been out?" Elros shrugged.
"Only found you a few minutes ago, but the battle has not been long over. They're gathering the wounded over there," he said, pointing to a small city of tents. "They will need your help." Elrond nodded, letting his brother help him to his feet. Slowly, they made their way forward. Elros seemed to have some specific place in mind, taking his dazed twin to a river where a group of healers were looking after the wounded. Elros flagged one down and managed to get Elrond's wounds looked over. Then, both twins set about helping those who survived. Moving among the injured were many beautiful Ainur, singing soothingly as they used what skill they had to ease the elves' pain.
Elrond took a moment to gather his strength, and then he went to those most grievously injured to make use of his own maia gifts. He worked tirelessly, just as he fought tirelessly, knowing that now there would be ample time for rest later. Soon, the young half-elf found himself a consoler to broken elves now physically freed from the darkness of prison, but mentally still shackled. It was late in the night before Elrond sought rest, curled up next to a brave little tree, which seemed to be the only living thing to survive unscathed.
~~~
"Oromë," Manwë's voice came into his mind. The Huntsman of the Valar stepped away from the Doors of Night, watching the grim-faced Ainur take up their posts along the walls, ready to guard here forever so that this evil might never be inflicted upon the world again, though the Valar knew that it would.
"Yes?"
"You must return to Endor. The remaining sons of Fëanor will seek to claim their father's works," Varda's soothing voice joined that of her husband.
"Do you wish for me to stop them?"
"Nay, Eönwë can handle that. To you, we give the task of upholding our promise to the newest star to grace the heavens. You must seek out the younger of his twin sons."
"Only the younger son, my Lady? Why should I not look to see both are well?"
"My herald," Manwë said, "has already spoken with them about their fate. The eldest has chosen to be accounted among Men and the Atani have taken him for their king. Our promise to his father cannot extend to him." Oromë nodded absently.
"What is the other half-elven's name?" he asked.
"Elrond," his lady answered.
"Very well, I shall go. My lord, my lady." He turned and found Nahar waiting, his white coat glimmering in the sun as he struck the ground with his golden hooves. The Hunter had not called for his horse, but he had not needed to. Nahar knew his mind. Giving the mighty beast an affectionate pat, the equally mighty Vala mounted him. The earth trembled at their passing.
~~~
The sea sparkled as the light of the sun began to wane, gently beating against the shores. Elrond walked barefoot through the sands, letting the water lap at his ankles. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of singing and the pounding of many people's feet against the ground as they danced. His heart was too heavy for revelry. Not more than an hour ago, he had parted from his twin, his other half, perhaps forever.
They had spoken no words; no words were ever needed between them, but had stayed near each other for all of that day, knowing Elros' new people would leave on the morrow. Throughout the day, Elros had slowly begun the long process of severing his mental link to his twin, which would doubtless take many years after to complete, if it ever could before his death. Elros would do whatever he could to keep his twin from pain, and yet both knew that in the end, his choice could bring nothing but pain. Still, Elrond understood his brother and knew there really was no other choice for either of them.
At the same time that he knew it would be better to let their link weaken so that the impact of Elros' soul departing from his mind would lessen, Elrond wished for nothing more than to lean on that link, to take comfort from the only constant in his life to help him through this horrible choice forced upon them.
For the moment, Elrond allowed all thoughts of his brother to slip from his mind. He hoped that the sea, which had taken his father from him before ever he knew him, would give him the same peace that must have drawn Eärendil and Tuor. As he walked further, everything became eerily quiet, possibly in deference to Elrond's mood, but more likely because nothing had survived the war.
Where the shore pushed out in a small cape, Elrond stopped, looking out to the calm sea. Far to his right, he could see the dim lights of Ereinion's ships. The king had come only that morning, though Elrond had yet to meet him. Sighing, he looked up, waiting to see the first stars against a still light sky. He was not there for more than a minute before he felt the ground shiver and heard a thunderous neigh. Whirling around, Elrond looked to see the shining figure of the very Ainu that had saved him from the dragon a few days before.
They regarded each other for a very long moment before the magnificent being dismounted, allowing Elrond to exhale the breath he did not know he had been holding. Again, they regarded each other at length before, to Elrond's astonishment, the tall Ainu made his way toward him.
~~~
Wind blowing through his hair, Oromë raced Nahar over the waters. Land came into view too soon for both horse and rider, who had enjoyed the ride, but the shimmering horse began to slow, taking his master straight to the half-elf. From a distance, the Vala watched the slow meandering of the dark figure along the shoreline. Nahar stepped as quietly as he could, ever mindful of his reception the first time he came upon elves, but he snorted when Oromë called him to a halt. The elf before them turned around at the sound, and Oromë, great Huntsman of the Valar, a rumor of which could cause Morgoth to cower in fear, found his breath stolen from him at the sight of so lovely a creature.
"You knew," he thought toward his queen, though his mind was more focused on the play of light caught in the elf's dark tresses.
"Only you can know for certain, but we did suspect that this was the one Eru told you of, your destined," Varda thought softly.
"You must understand though," Manwë's strong voice interjected, "his destiny may lie with you, but it lies elsewhere as well. Even you cannot interfere in this." The king of the Valar opened his mind to show the Hunter a little of what was to come. A small childish part of himself that he had never known existed protested, but Oromë pushed it aside, knowing he could never keep such beauty for himself alone. For the first time in his life Oromë felt unworthy, humbled by a spirit he could plainly see inhabiting the half-elf's body. It was a spirit almost as bright as his own, though it hid further inside its shell, and it was in great pain.
Moved, the Hunter dismounted, slowly approaching the silent figure, whose intense eyes bored into him. He said no word, unsure what to say to this young elf, for whom he had waited since first he sang his part in the Great Music. Oromë could see his uncertainty mirrored in the silver eyes that watched him. Without conscious thought, his hand reached up, gently caressing the silken cheek.
"Why do you grieve?" he finally managed to ask, and his heart wrenched, seeing tears form in the half-elf's grey eyes, though they did not spill over.
Elrond was inexplicably drawn to the Ainu before him, and perhaps at some other time, this would have been cause for reflection or even fear, but at the moment, he desperately needed comfort, someone to talk to. Leaning into the gentle touch to his cheek, the half-elf thought he felt a soothing presence touch his spirit and he gladly accepted it, some instinct finding nothing unusual about the circumstances he found himself in. Nor did it seem unusual that a beautiful Ainu would draw him close, holding him as his tears finally spilled.
Just as with his brother, it seemed no words were necessary between himself and this stranger; it seemed there was some bond already in place that Elrond need only acknowledge to be able to draw strength from it. He did not know how long he stood there, his head buried in a muscular shoulder as he cried his soul's anguish at the thought of losing his other half, but at last his tears stopped flowing and his mind finally caught up to the current situation. Elrond blushed as he felt the unknown Ainu gently stroke his hair, but he did not have the strength to lift his head from its warm pillow.
Oromë smiled against the half-elf's hair, sensing his sudden unrest, and he found himself no more willing to move than the young elf in his arms. "Do you feel better?" he asked, finally pushing away just enough to look into Elrond's eyes, though he found this difficult as the half-elf had ducked his head and refused to return his gaze.
"Yes. I am sorry to-," Elrond began, feeling embarrassed but he was stopped when the Ainu lightly pressed a finger to his lips before sliding the finger down to lift his chin, forcing him to meet the sparkling green gaze.
"There is nothing to apologize for," Oromë said, charmed by the light blush that stained the half-elf's face all the way to his delicate ears. Sensing Elrond did not wish to speak of the grief that still lay on his heart, the Hunter sought to distract him. "You are Elrond, are you not?" The half-elf startled at this.
"I am, though I do not know you name, sir," Elrond said hesitantly. Oromë smiled at him.
"My name does not matter, but I have been bid to find you." The young elf's round eyes grew wider.
"Me, sir?" Oromë nodded.
"Surely, you know by now the price your father has paid in seeking the aid of the Valar, but this price he bore gladly thus earning the love and admiration of the Powers. They do not seek to bring him any pain, and for his service, Eärendil was allowed to ask of the Valar any service they could perform. Can you guess what he asked for?" Elrond shook his head. "The only grief his actions have caused him is that he has been separated from his sons, and has missed their childhood. He asked that the Valar look after his children, and allow them a place in Valinor."
"He did?" Elrond asked, his eyes shining with tears once more, though this time his soul was heartened. Oromë nodded solemnly.
"He did, and I have come to tell you that your father has given to you the place of honor afforded to him in Valinor by his deeds." Elrond looked uneasy at this knowledge.
"But I . . . I . . ." He trailed off, biting his lip in uncertainty. "There is yet much to do here." Oromë nodded.
"We did not think you would come as of yet, but know that your father's wishes will be honored. Your place in Valinor will await you until you are ready to take it." Elrond remained silent for a long moment, digesting this news.
"But . . . what of my brother?" His eyes searched Oromë's face, before they dropped, his shoulders sagging. "You knew of his decision," he whispered.
"I know not Manwë's mind, but your choices are known to us now and your brother has chosen to accept the greatest of Eru's gifts. He is beyond the knowledge of the Valar."
"I am sorry. I did not mean to be ungrateful." Oromë shook his head.
"I do not desire your apologies. You are tired," the Hunter said, loosening one arm from around Elrond's waist to push a midnight-dark lock behind his ear, "and there will be much decided on the morrow. I see that your heart has had no peace for a very long time. Let me ease your burden a little." Oromë gently massaged the back of the half-elf's neck.
"I c-cannot impose in such a way," Elrond stuttered, turning bright red, though he did enjoy the soothing caress. "You have been so kind to me and I do not even know your name." Oromë sighed, but did not release the young elf.
"Your mother's people would call me Tauron."
"Tauron!" Elrond exclaimed, halfheartedly trying to escape the intimate embrace that suddenly seemed so disrespectful, but the Vala would not have it.
"Yes, little one."
"But, my lord," Elrond began feebly, horrified at his actions this night.
"Nothing is changed," Oromë said sternly, unwilling to see this beautiful half-elf subjugate himself to anyone. He continued in a gentler tone. "Come, we are not so different, and I have no wish to see you sad." Elrond searched Oromë's eyes for a long moment and he saw only true concern and affection. Unsure what all of this meant, and too tired to deal with it at the moment, Elrond nodded to himself. His body sagged as if he had not the strength to keep himself on his feet and he did not protest when Oromë gently moved his head back to the Vala's strong shoulder. In no time, the half-elf surrendered to his weariness.