The Hunter

PART 16

Ronyo's ears suddenly turned forward and he let out a menacing growl.  Without any further warning, the sleek hound took off.  The Valar were hard pressed to keep up with him. 

They had encountered the possessed hand only fifteen minutes ago, but the sudden increase of orcs told them that their presence had been discovered.  Silently, they debated with each other if they should reveal their presence and power or remain skulking in the dark. 

Ulmo favored brute force, fearing that all the time they took avoiding conflict was more time to harm the twins.  Námo, of course, favored discretion.  They still knew less than their enemy so the element of surprise was still vital.  The Lord of Mandos argued that though their location had been known it was not known now and the tunnel system was vast enough that even their enemy could not pinpoint the direction they would take.

Oromë remained silent.  He kept an eye on his dog; the sleek hound avoiding danger when it could.  Any orc that appeared, the Hunter dispatched with dispassion and continued on.

At the back of his mind, the Vala could feel the twins.  It was not the same soul deep connection that he shared with his husband, but it was enough that he knew the young half-elves were suddenly in far greater pain than they had been fifteen minutes ago.  Oromë could not bear the thought and plunged forward, his focus trained on those two dearest to his beloved. 

Their path had now begun to climb upward at a fairly steep angle.  The number of orcs had also increased, making avoiding direct combat impossible.  Hacking their way through, the Valar hoped this meant they were getting close to the twins. 

The orcs, despite their number, were no match for three powerful Valar and a hound of Valinor.  The four cut a path through the swarm of evil creatures as though plowing over grass.  It was not too long after that they heard the cries of pain from the twins. 

The Valar turned a corner, and suddenly two more possessed hands flew at them catching Námo and Ulmo in their grasp.  Mercifully the orcs had retreated, too afraid of their master to come any closer.  Oromë looked at his comrades, torn between helping them and rescuing the twins.

"Go," Námo urged.  The scales of the claw were turning to ice where he touched it.  "We can handle these."  Nodding, Oromë ran toward the doorway at the far end of the chamber.  He could see an eerie green light in that direction.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw bright flashes, presumably his kin incinerating the foul hands.

Bursting into the small chamber, the Hunter was not prepared for what he saw.  The twins hung before him, silhouetted in the green light, but beyond that was a sight so sickening, Oromë almost retched. 

What the twins thought were lamps were merely the eyes of a massive dragon, hanging from their sockets.  The head had no body, but instead the veins and nerves dangled along the ground and wall, sucking nutrients from twitching orcs.  A constant flow of black viscous material fell to the floor, creating a rather deep pool under the head, which was propped up by pieces of its flesh.  Its scales had fallen off, revealing sickly yellow skin that oozed as though it had been recently pickled. 

At his entrance, the eyeballs swung on their stocks toward the Vala.  The dragon's mouth opened and Oromë could actually see the foul breath as it left, but that was before the evil light of those eyes fell upon him.  The Hunter had never felt anything so vile before.  The light burned his skin while the fetid breath seemed to seep into his pores.

Staggering, Oromë drew out his horn and drew in his breath.  The blast that resulted shook the entire mountainside.  It was perhaps a dangerous thing to do when one is underneath said mountain, but Ilúvatar smiled upon them.  The mountain was split wide open, letting in the setting sun.  It was blinding after the all-consuming darkness in the tunnels. 

Fresh mountain air blew in; Oromë could feel Manwë's hand in it, cleaning the chamber of foul air.  It invigorated the Vala, driving away the evil miasma wrapped around him.  But before Oromë could drop his horn and destroy the foul creature, the last of the armless hands pounded into him, driving him against the wall even as the dragon let out a furious scream.

"NO!  I will not be denied my vengeance.  If I cannot have the life of the son then I will have the lives of the grandsons."  The great head swung on the rope-like veins holding it up, turning toward the twins, who were disturbingly still.  The hand squeezed painfully, making it difficult to move.  The Hunter watched in horror as the massive dragon's jaw lowered, the hint of smoke an indication of what he intended. 

Furiously, Oromë pressed at the hand, pushing off the wall with his feet to give him enough space to free his hands so he could rip the oozing appendage apart.  But it was not quickly enough.  The fire was already building and took only a moment to pour forth.  At the same moment, the Vala tossed the hand into the raging inferno directed at the twins, but it was incinerated with ease leaving a clear path to the motionless half-elves.

Oromë's heart froze in that instant, seeing the green fire flying toward his husband's children.  But when it hit, instead of the smell of burning flesh, there was a great hiss.  The Vala turned, seeing Ulmo and Námo suddenly before the twins.  A stream of filthy water flowed out of the cavern mouth, challenging the fire, pushing it back.  Steam from their meeting rose into the air.

"Ancalagon!" Námo cried, distracting the great dragon.  Oromë blinked in surprise, looking again at the dragon head.  Of course, now he knew why it looked so familiar.  This was the evil beast that Eärendil had felled, shattering its body to pieces on the spires of Thangorodrim.

The dragon's fire dissipated as it turned its head slightly to see who had called its name.  Oromë took that moment of distraction, raising his sword high and burying it in the creature's eye-socket all the way to its brain.  A horrible roar of pain issued forth, the dragon swinging dangerously on its cords some of which broke and oozed more foul substance.  But Ancalagon had nowhere to go and its struggling only further injured its body.

The Hunter withdrew his sword and struck again, this time using his weapon as a skewer to bind the dragon's lower jaw with its head.  Oromë could still smell the stench of evil fire and he knew that the dragon had not spent its supply.  Pressing down on the swollen jowls, an explosion erupted.  Unable to open its mouth, the fire retreated along the veins and muscles, incinerating the head from within.  Oromë leaped back as the vile blaze spewed forth in a terrible blast.  The fire licked at the walls, flying down the corridor and up into the air before burning itself out.

Concerned that the twins had been hurt in the blast, Oromë turned to them but found each now cut down and in the arms of his kin.

"We must go," Námo said, moving to the gaping hole in the wall that Oromë had opened.  Ulmo quickly followed.

"Ronyo!" Oromë called.  A moment later, the sleek hound appeared, the blood of enemies smeared into his fur.  He bounded out the hole with the Hunter on his heels.

"Quickly Oromë use your horn.  Bring the mountain down upon them," Ulmo urged.  The Hunter needed no further prompting.  The clear ring of his horn sounded far away from them, traveling to Gondor and Dale, to the Grey Havens and importantly to Rivendell.  The earth trembled, collapsing in on itself, crushing the hoards of orcs underneath.

The Hunter turned, finding his brethren not far away.  They were laying the twins upon the earth.  "Something unnatural has a hold of them," Námo said, holding Elladan's hand as he sought for the darkness within him.  Ulmo looked helplessly at Elrohir, not being skilled in this kind of healing.  The Hunter had to admit he had not this skill either, but he knelt between the twins letting his hands pass over them, feeling the war within them.  Their spirits shone brightly, not yet contaminated, but the evil miasma that had choked Oromë had settled deep within them.

From Námo's expression, the other Valar knew it was very grave.  "Perhaps Elrond can heal them," Oromë asked tentatively, not truly keen on his husband seeing his children in such a state.  "My husband has told me he has healed evil wounds before, though I doubt they would be of this strength."

Námo remained silent for a moment, his hand passing over Elladan's forehead without touching.  "I have heard much of Lord Elrond's gift.  None come to my halls once in his care, for which I am grateful.  I think your suggestion has merit.  From what I have heard, his healing would be gentle.  Mine would be invasive."

Oromë nodded and let out a low whistle.  Instantly, Nahar appeared, dancing around the small group.  The Hunter approached his stallion.  Gently laying a land on his neck, Oromë whispered to his ear.

"Bring to me my husband, quickly."

The horse snorted, turning on its hindquarters and racing away.  Closing his eyes, the Vala sought out his husband's mind.

~~~

"What was that?" Erestor demanded, getting up from his chair.  Elrond rolled his eyes.

"The guard changing shifts," he said.  His patience was being sorely tested.  Every few minutes, his advisor was sure he had heard something, jumping out of his seat and running to the balcony to see if the Vala had returned.  

After gazing out the window for a moment, the advisor reluctantly returned to his desk.  Arwen gaze him a half-hearted smile.  "Would you like some tea?" she offered, setting aside her needlework.  She hadn't been able to get much work done on it, her hands shaking too much. 

Erestor scowled at her, but a glare from Elrond kept his tongue in check.  The advisor knew he was being unreasonable, but the thought that his beloved was imprisoned somewhere made his stomach churn.  When Arwen handed him a cup of tea, Erestor was only able to manage a strained smile. 

They sat still for another ten minutes before Erestor's head snapped back to the open windows.  "Did you hear that?" he demanded, marching to the window.

"Erestor-," Elrond began, but stopped when Arwen also stood.

"I hear it too," she said softly. Frowning, Elrond strained his ears.  Undeniable, the sound of a deep roar echoed just within the range of hearing and was growing stronger.  It was familiar.

Elrond shot out of his seat when he realized what it was.  "It's my husband's horn," he told the others, realizing they might not know.  Arwen and Erestor glanced at the half-elf. 

"What does it mean?" Arwen asked.  Elrond thought for a moment before shrugging.

"I have never heard it save in times of battle," he said softly.  The half-elves watched Erestor bite his lip, his face expressing all of his worry.  Arwen laid a gentle hand on his arm, seeking to comfort him but Elrond never heard her words.

"Beloved," the strong bass of his husband wrapped around his insides.  Elrond closed his eyes in relief.

"Tauron.  What has happened?"

"Your sons are free, but in need of healing.  I have sent Nahar to collect you.  Gather what herbs you need."

Worry instantly flooded his system.  His sons were hurt?  "Tauron, what has happened?" he repeated.  "What kind of injuries?  Is it serious?"  He heard his husband sigh.

"We haven't the time to talk.  I believe you will need your gift more than anything else."  In the distance, Elrond could hear the sound of thunder.  Automatically, he picked up a small healing kit he always kept in case of emergencies.  It was always kept ready with varieties of herbs needed for most kinds of quick healing.

Erestor and Arwen watched him, confused.  "Father?" she asked.  They had heard the thunder too, thinking that Oromë was returning. 

Elrond glanced at the pair, feeling only a parting caress from his husband before Oromë broke the connection.  "Tauron has sent Nahar to get me," he said simply, walking to the door.  Erestor and Arwen exchanged a look before hurrying after him.

"What!  Why?" Erestor demanded, running to catch up to the quick half-elf.  Hearing the commotion, Glorfindel appeared from his office.

Elrond didn't want to elaborate.  It was bad enough that he had to worry.  He didn't want Erestor to worry too.  The advisor would want to accompany him.  "He didn't say," Elrond said, and he knew that Erestor saw right through the lie.  Storm clouds gathered in his expression, but Elrond refused to be intimidated.  They had reached the courtyard and almost at the same moment, Nahar appeared, riderless.

"My lord?" Glorfindel asked, watching Elrond mount the great horse. 

"Do not worry, Glorfindel.  Tauron would not have sent for me if there was any danger," the half-elf said, hoping it was the truth.  Beneath him, Nahar snorted in agreement, pawing the earth. 

"But-," Glorfindel said, not sure what was going on.  Elrond looked to Arwen, knowing Erestor was too upset to take charge. 

"I shall return soon.  Take charge until my return."  Before anyone could say anything else, Nahar had pivoted around and bolted forward.

~~~

Elrond had ridden Nahar only a few times, but never alone before and never at full speed.  The speed made him a little dizzy.  He could barely make out his surroundings as they zoomed by.  Soon enough the great horse began to slow and the half-elf could make out several figures in the distance.

It took only a moment for them to come into clarity.  Elrond recognized his husband's form instantly and then his eyes were drawn to the prone bodies of his sons.  His heart clenched with worry and he took no notice of the other two figures silently watching his approach. 

Oromë met Nahar, helping Elrond dismount.  "What happened?" Elrond demanded yet again, moving to kneel between the twins.  His husband sighed wishing to spare him the details.

"They have been poisoned, but they will be alright once it is expelled," Námo's deep voice soothed, sensing the half-elf's distress.  The darker Vala had plenty of experience soothing frightened and hurting elves.  Ulmo's only comfort was in silence knowing his words were often harsher than he meant them to be.

Elrond placed his hands on his sons, not caring about the presence of the other two Valar.  He could feel the darkness pulling at them trying to taint their light.  Taking a deep breath, the half-elf prepared to fight it for them.

"Wait!" Oromë said.  Elrond blinked in surprise before glaring at his husband.  His children were in pain, didn't the Vala understand that?

Oromë gave him an understanding look, knowing well what the half-elf was feeling for his heart also ached in sympathy of the twins' pain.  But he could not risk his husband.

"This evil is very powerful.  Let me help you."  The Hunter gently placed one of his large hands on Elrond's cheek.  The half-elf's eyes widened, feeling such raw power flood through him.  Immediately he gently touched his son's necks becoming a conduit for the Vala's energy, turning it into his own healing power. 

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the battle being waged within his sons.  He focused first on Elladan, who was still being held by Námo.  Pushing on the evil, he forced it into a tight ball in his son's chest.  It was slippery like sand, trying to evade his power but Elrond remained firm.  When it had condensed, the half-elf pictured it thinning out to a point.  He used the naturally tendency of evil weapons to want to inflict pain and damage, driving the needle point upward out of his son's body. 

The Valar watched as a dark metallic needle pressed against Elladan's skin from the inside and then burst out.  Námo gently grabbed the needle and pulled it the rest of the way out.  With just the smallest amount of energy, he destroyed it.  He then returned his attention to the young half-elf. 

Elrond had used his power to stitch up the wound, giving cursory attention to any other serious injury before turning his attention to Elrohir.  Námo let his hand drift over Elladan, but could find no more trace of the darkness within him.  He was quite impressed at the ease with which Elrond could manage his gift.  Of course, the half-elf would have tired without Oromë's strength before he could have expelled the evil, but it was still remarkable. 

Elladan groaned, bringing Námo's attention back to the half-elf he was half holding.  The elder son of Elrond fought a splitting headache, a residual effect of the green light he had been subjected to.  Slowly, he opened his eyes.  A dark blur hovered before his vision.  When it focused, Elladan let out a startled yelp.

Námo blinked in surprise, looking down into wide bleary silver eyes.  Elrond turned at the sound, having repeated the process of expelling evil on Elrohir.  The younger twin was slowly coming around.  Now, the elder half-elf touched his son's skin again, this time focusing on the serious internal injuries. 

Elladan couldn't help but sigh.  His father's healing touch was always magnificently soothing.  But the half-elf kept his attention on the being holding him.  His face was slightly shadowed under the cloak, and at first, Elladan had thought so were his eyes.  But now he saw that his eyes were completely black, not even showing the white in normal eyes, and yet they expressed a deep warmth and compassion.  His skin had no color in it whatsoever.  Even though Elladan had seen very pale elves before, he had never truly seen a person with no color to them.  But oddly, having no color did not make him translucent.  The young half-elf saw no blue veins beneath his skin like Erestor had.  The rest of his face was perfection, not unlike Oromë's.  But whereas Oromë's face could be terrible in its beauty, there was something soothing about this face.  Elladan wished to look at it forever.

But it was not to be.  He was shifted to his father's arms.  Though he was glad to see his father was all right, he wanted to see more of the dark elf.

Elrond brushed a kiss to his son's forehead.  He had already looked after Elrohir's wounds before Oromë told him it was enough for now.  A part of him protested, hating that his little boys should be in any kind of pain, but Oromë remained firm knowing that even with his additional energy, Elrond would have depleted his strength.

"I believe they are strong enough to go home," Oromë said.  Elrond nodded absently, gazing at Elrohir.  Suddenly he frowned, watching his younger son rub his eyes.  His husband noticed.

"What is wrong?" he asked, mentally.  Elrond glanced at him, but returned to looking at Elrohir.

"His engagement ring is gone," he thought a little sadly.  All three Valar looked at Elrohir's hand, having heard the exchange, but thankfully Elrohir didn't seem to notice the loss yet. 

Ulmo and Oromë turned to look at the mound of rubble that had recently been a mountain.  Even for a Vala, it was unlikely the ring could be found. 

A sudden quiet yip drew their attention to Ronyo who had been lying peacefully a few feet from the group.  Now, he stood up and walked toward the half-elf.

Elrond watched the dog with surprise not having noticed the large animal before, which was hard to do as he was easily the size of full-grown pony.  The hound walked carefully between the twins and dropped his head into Elrond's lap beside Elladan.  Unsure what the large dog wanted, he gently petted the hound, looking to Oromë, who looked a little perplexed.

"This is Ronyo.  He is one of my hunting dogs and twin to Huan that helped your ancestress," he said quietly when he noticed his husband's stare.  He merely shrugged in answer to the silent questions in Elrond's eyes.  He didn't know what his hound was up to.

Ronyo's eyes closed in bliss at the gentle attention from his master's husband, but then the hound opened his mouth.  Elrond frowned, looking at a row of razor-fine teeth and wondering what was going on when he saw a sparkle of gold on one of the lower canines.  Gingerly picking it up, he saw it to be a ring and Elrohir's engagement ring at that. 

Smiling, Elrond set the ring in his lap and returned to petting the large dog, this time with more enthusiasm.  Oromë smiled too sending the large hound a flood of mental approval.

Standing up, Ulmo and Námo watched the scene in silence, a small smile on the water-ainu's face.  As always, the Doomsman's face was impassive, though his gaze had settled on Elladan.  It was a long moment before he became aware of Ulmo's stare upon him.  With a small mental shake, he raised his arms and a cool mist enveloped the group.

The half-elves blinked in surprise finding themselves in the Healing Halls.  Aewréd cried out in surprise dropping a tray of herbs.  Both twins snickered, a sure sign to their father that they would be all right.  Elrond lifted Elladan onto a nearby bed even as Oromë did the same for Elrohir.

While Elrond flagged down a servant to fetch Erestor, Arwen, and Glorfindel, Elladan gazed at the retreating dark elf.

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