On the other side of the battlefield, utter devastation reigned; the ground was strewn with the bodies of Uruk-hai shot through the head, the eye, or the throat. Elladan had wielded his archery with surgical precision, never hesitating for even a heartbeat. In the first minutes of the ambush, he had hunted down the orc archers one by one, eliminating them systematically. Now perched atop a high rock, he dispatched four more Uruk-hai in swift succession with a relentless rain of arrows. The remaining orcs, panicked, scrambled behind the rocks for cover—but Elladan shifted positions with agile leaps, continuing to find them in their hiding places. He was careful to remain on elevated ground, avoiding close contact with the orcs. It was not fear, but strategy; throughout the clash, his gaze constantly tracked his brother. Elrohir was raging like a storm in close combat, yet Elladan's keen observations caught a critical detail:
'The leader of the great orcs hasn't even drawn his sword since the beginning. The seven guards beside him are just standing there… They must be waiting for my brother to tire.'
Elladan's brows furrowed. He knew orcs well, but he had never before engaged in such a large-scale confrontation with the Great Orcs. He had only encountered a few wandering stragglers in the past; yet now, he felt to the marrow how different these were from the others.
'Father told only a few stories about them… The Great Orcs are on an entirely different level. Still, we can manage; once reinforcements arrive, this will become far easier.'
Even so, the nameless unease within him refused to subside.
'So why do I have a bad feeling about this?'
Leaping from rock to rock, Elladan vaulted over an orc. As the Uruk-hai lifted its head in surprise, Elladan twisted lightly in midair, drew his bow, and released. The arrow whistled as it drove into the orc's forehead. The force snapped the creature's head backward.
PAT!
"UGH!"
Elladan landed gracefully atop another rock. Without pause, he loosed four more arrows in rapid succession, eliminating four additional Uruk-hai. He immediately nocked a fifth arrow—this time aiming directly at Guşga. In mere seconds he calculated the distance and the wind, steadied his breathing, and released. His hands did not stop; he sent five more arrows in quick succession—but the sight before him froze him in place.
Guşga, standing with his arms folded across his chest, tilted his head slightly aside as though he had eyes at the back of his neck, effortlessly avoiding the first arrow. The remaining four arrows flew toward Guşga's uncles. The Great Orc wearing a skull helmet spun swiftly and shattered an arrow midair with his blade. The goat-bearded one, like Guşga, did not even uncross his arms; he merely shifted slightly, raising his shoulder armor to intercept the shot—the arrow struck metal and fell harmlessly. The last, clad in warg fur, caught an arrow in his bare hand without even glancing back and began idly rolling it between his teeth as though it were a toothpick. The fifth arrow, amid the chaos, had buried itself in the throat of a Great Orc attacking Elrohir.
At that moment, the goat-bearded orc turned his head with a mocking grin and looked toward Elladan a few meters away.
"Boy, didn't your father ever tell you about the Green Raiders?"
Then, as if he didn't care at all, he turned back to watching Elrohir. The Great Orcs around him laughed mockingly, completely ignoring Elladan. At the sound of the name, Elladan's eyes narrowed. His father had spoken of them—the Great Orcs who rarely left their tribal territories. A warrior society; though their origins were barbaric, unlike other orcs, they respected warfare and hand-to-hand combat. His father had warned him about certain groups. His words echoed in Elladan's mind:
'…Among the Great Orcs, there are elite units formed of their finest warriors—small but highly effective within the tribe. Several centuries ago, I fought the leader of one such unit; they called themselves the Green Raiders. Their leader was an orc named Gugalat. We fought for two days and two nights, yet neither of us prevailed. When both our armies suffered heavy losses, Gugalat offered a ceasefire, and I accepted. If you ever encounter him, do not fight—you are not ready. But he has not left his tribe in a long time; from the last reports I received, he had become chieftain. His green body bore numerous scars, he had white hair, and he was larger than most…'
Elladan frowned and spoke aloud.
"You are not Gugalat! A Great Orc chieftain—especially the Honored Giant—does not leave his territory without cause. That means you are one of his Green Raiders."
As the goat-bearded orc continued to chuckle, Guşga cast him a sideways glance over his shoulder and spoke:
"I am his son—Guşga. Trained personally by my father!"
After his declaration, Guşga exhaled deeply; intense disappointment was etched across his face.
"Frankly, I do not like this situation at all… My father always spoke of his battle with Elrond with great excitement and pride. I would have greatly wished to follow in our fathers' footsteps—to fight your brother in single combat… But an order is an order."
Just as Elladan was about to reply, a sudden chill ran down the back of his neck. Without hesitation, he leapt down from the rock; at that very instant, a spear hurled by an Uruk-hai struck the stone with force and clattered to the ground. As Elladan tried to clear the crowd encircling him with rapid arrow fire, he shouted:
"Did your father give the order? Why do you want us alive?"
Without taking his focus off Elrohir for even a moment, Guşga answered:
"Forget who gave the order… But know this—we will not take part in this battle."
Elladan, bewildered, drew another arrow and felled yet another Uruk-hai.
"What do you mean?"
Guşga continued in an even, composed tone:
"What I desire is an honorable battle like my father's—like that legendary duel between your father and mine. What is happening now is merely a task assigned to us… I do not wish to defeat your brother through such treachery."
As Elladan neutralized another orc, he frowned deeply. Guşga went on:
"In the name of our fathers' honor, I will not lay a hand on this fight. I hope you manage to escape this trap… If you can, you will truly earn my respect."
Elladan, stunned, loosed another arrow and eliminated yet another orc. He was beginning, little by little, to grasp the situation; now he understood more clearly why the Great Orcs were so different from the others. As he released two more arrows in quick succession, he asked with open curiosity:
"Why are you ignoring me? I am not weaker than my brother."
Guşga chuckled, yet his eyes remained fixed with unmistakable pleasure upon Elrohir.
"Because your brother is a true warrior. I do not care much for archers… And besides…"
This time Guşga turned his head and looked directly into Elladan's eyes as he shot.
"I did not choose you. I chose Elrohir."
In astonishment, Elladan killed three more Uruk-hai.
"What do you mean?"
Guşga let out another irritating chuckle.
"I have a younger sister, a few years my junior. She is quite skilled in archery… And she wants your head."
For long years Elladan had been the hunter—now, in a single instant, he realized he had become someone else's prey. He froze. Guşga, completely ignoring him, continued to laugh softly.
"As a good elder brother, I should not touch her quarry while she is not here, should I? Believe me, her anger is a true headache…"
For a moment, Elladan could not think—but his hands never ceased firing arrows.
Meanwhile, unaware of the conversation unfolding behind him, Elrohir withdrew his blade from the heart of a Great Orc he had just pierced. He was drenched head to toe in orc blood. Three Great Orcs still stood before him. He drew deep breaths. Nearly an hour had passed since the ambush began, and in that time Elrohir had realized something.
'Why have the reinforcements not arrived?'
A foul stench reached his nose—but before he could reflect further, the three Great Orcs attacked at once. Moving swiftly, Elrohir blocked the first incoming strike with his sword. As their blades locked together, he heard a sharp sound—then felt a searing pain in his left calf.
PAT!
"ACK!"
As Elrohir staggered in pain, one of the Great Orcs struck him with a brutal punch. He was thrown backward, but quickly regained his balance and forced himself to retreat into stance. Agony throbbed violently in his leg. When he lowered his gaze, he saw a crossbow bolt embedded deep in his calf.
Realizing his brother's condition, Elladan panicked.
"ELROHIR!"
But at that very instant, a Witch Elf lunged at him from behind with deadly speed. Seeing this, the wounded Elrohir immediately shouted:
"WATCH OUT FOR WHAT'S BEHIND YOU!"
Hearing the warning, Elladan turned to block the attack, but reacted a little too late. The attacker, coming from behind, cut her chest diagonally. Elladan was stunned, a little blood splattered from her chest, and the Witch Elf who had struck her smiled sadistically.
Yet a wounded Elladan would not fall so easily. He recovered at once, drew a dagger from his belt, and hurled it at the Witch Elf's throat. The blade buried itself harshly into the elf's gullet. The sadistic smile remained upon the creature's face even in death. As Elladan swiftly retreated toward his brother, he passed beside Guşga. At that moment, Guşga turned his back and walked away calmly, leaving behind these words:
"I hope you survive, children of Elrond. So that the children of Gugalat may hunt and kill you."
With that, Guşga and the seven Great Orcs calmly departed the ambush site. The remaining three Great Orcs and a dozen Uruk-hai, together with the newly revealed Dark Elves, began encircling the brothers.
Elrohir heard another sound. This time he quickly leaped to the side, dodging the crossbow arrow, but the pressure on his leg accelerated the bleeding and caused him great pain. Meanwhile, Elladan ran to his brother's side, clutched his chest, and anxiously asked:
"Are you well?"
Elrohir clenched his teeth as he replied:
"…I will manage. You?"
Elladan frowned.
"I am fine. I leaned back when she struck—only a shallow cut… Dark Elves… What are these dishonorable wretches doing in Middle-earth?"
At that moment, the cry of a hawk pierced the air. The twins flinched and looked upward—Thoron was flying toward them. Elladan immediately gestured for him to leave. The hawk understood and veered away at once—but the Dark Elves raised their crossbows and fired. Thoron performed sharp aerial maneuvers, narrowly avoiding the bolts. He accelerated at full speed. Seeing this, the twins exhaled in relief and refocused on their enemies—but then Thoron's cry of pain rang out.
Startled, the twins looked up. Thoron had been struck. For a moment he ceased flapping and began to fall. Elladan shouted in alarm:
"THORON!"
Hearing his voice, Thoron gathered his strength and beat his wings again. After staggering midair several times, he regained balance. A few more bolts flew after him, but with several difficult maneuvers he accelerated beyond their range, heading west. He was losing blood—but he had to continue. He had to find help for his friends.
Meanwhile, the twins were completely surrounded. Dark Elves and orcs were approaching from all sides. As they watched Thoron disappear, they felt both relief that he was safe and worry about his wound. Carefully scanning her surroundings, Elladan whispered:
"Can you continue, brother?"
Elrohir glanced at the crossbow bolt lodged in his leg.
"…I think so…"
Then he looked around at the Dark Elves who were smirking mockingly and laughed.
"HAHAHAHA! How amusing. You fear us so much that you can do nothing but strike from the shadows. My elders were right! Dark Elves are nothing but cowardly incompetents!"
Hearing this, Elladan's face darkened; his brow twitched violently.
'…Have we been influenced by Igris too much? Are you trying to provoke them now?!'
Though the surrounding Dark Elves burned with anger at the insult, none moved; they knew all too well what Morathi's wrath would bring if they failed their mission.
At that moment, atop a high rock, a Dark Elf clad in black armor slowly emerged. A sword hung at his waist, a shield strapped to his back. In his hand he held a heavy crossbow of Dark Elf make. Looking down upon the twins, he called out mockingly:
"Well, well! What do we have here? A grand catch! The twin princes of Rivendell—famed orc hunters as well!"
The twins turned toward the voice, frowning, yet remained careful not to lose awareness of their surroundings. The Dread Lord stepped forward a few paces, placing one foot upon a raised stone. Resting his arm casually upon his knee, he grinned down at them.
"But is it not amusing when the hunters become the hunted?"
The twins lifted their heads, focusing on the stranger looming above them. Elladan examined the Dread Lord's armor and bearing with narrowed eyes and asked sharply:
"…What business does a Dread Lord have here? How did you breach the blockade?"
The Dread Lord responded only with a cryptic smile.
"Who knows?"
Then he turned to the warriors standing ready around him and gave a short, clear command:
"Seize them."
At that order, the Dark Elves and the surviving orcs tightened the circle and advanced cautiously.
Elrohir forced himself to stand upright despite the sharp pain radiating from the bolt in his leg. Without taking his eyes off their enemies, he whispered into his brother's ear in Quenya:
"…please tell me we still have the mist and flash bombs."
Elladan paused at those words. His hand instinctively checked the compartments at the back of his belt as his mind raced back to the moment they had prepared that equipment.
--- Flashback ---
In the dim glow of a small alchemist's hut, Elrohir and Elladan studied the strange apparatus laid out upon the table, casting doubtful glances at İgris. Elladan, his voice cautious, asked:
"So… are you truly certain this will work?"
İgris nodded with calm confidence.
"I have used this method before. It will absolutely yield results. But I have one request of you."
Under the twins' curious gazes, he continued:
"…Do not use these unless you are truly forced to. If possible, choose moments when no one can see. And if someone does witness it—finish the matter, if you can. I do not want the making of these bombs to spread, especially not into the wrong hands."
The twins exchanged slightly puzzled looks as İgris drew a small leather ball, the size of a palm, onto a sheet of parchment.
"Look," he said, beginning to indicate the details. "If you tamper with the formula for this smoke bomb, you could mix in toxic substances and collapse a person's lungs."
Then he sketched another sphere, sturdier in appearance than the first.
"And if you alter this formula to increase its potency, you would not blind those nearby temporarily—but permanently. Imagine throwing an enhanced version of this into the center of an elven battalion; an entire unit could lose its sight forever."
The possibility sent a chill through the twins. Meanwhile, the master alchemist Tordo, who had been listening with rapt fascination, seemed almost spellbound.
"Extraordinary… Where did you learn all of this?"
İgris hesitated. His mind drifted to a friend from his previous world—the one who had taught him these things. With a sigh that tightened his chest, he replied:
"A friend taught me…"
The alchemist misread the melancholy in his tone and grew somber.
"I would have very much liked to meet him."
İgris gave a faint, bitter smile and shook his head.
"…He is not in this world."
Tordo assumed the friend was dead and looked even more mournful.
"I see… What a pity. I truly would have wished to meet such a genius."
At that moment, İgris scratched his head lightly. He probably thinks he's dead… The idiot is likely in his own world right now, lighting up a barbecue and lounging in a hammock… Anyway, he thought. Then he regained his seriousness and turned back to the alchemist.
"Listen, Tordo. I am asking for your help because I trust you—but never put this work into writing. I cannot allow it to fall into anyone's hands."
Tordo stroked his beard and nodded solemnly.
"I understand your caution, İgris. As an alchemist, I am well aware how dangerous these devices could be. I swear upon my alchemy that nothing will leave this hut. Even if I work on them, I will destroy any notes immediately. I shall commit everything to memory."
Knowing the weight of such an oath, İgris felt somewhat reassured.
"That eases my mind. Now, for the smoke bomb, we will need the following materials… The mixture is prepared like this… And with vitriol oil—green vitriol—we shall follow these steps… Do you understand?"
Tordo's eyes gleamed with excitement. Rubbing his hands together eagerly, he exclaimed:
"Genius! And what of this flash bomb you mentioned—how is that prepared?"
İgris gathered his thoughts briefly before continuing.
"For that, we require these components… We mix them in this manner… And there is also another method…"
The three of them focused intently on İgris's explanations. Before long, under his guidance, Tordo set to work. The twins stepped outside to gather the necessary materials. Unbeknownst to anyone, two incapacitating weapons commonly used in the modern world were reborn within that humble hut.
--- End of Flashback ---
Elladan felt the three small leather spheres at the back of his belt with the tips of his fingers and whispered quietly in Quenya:
"Two flash bombs, one smoke."
Without taking his eyes off the enemy ranks, Elrohir gave a slight nod.
"Understood. Wait until they draw closer. The moment you use them, take advantage of the chaos and escape."
Elladan stared at him in disbelief.
"What!?"
Seeing the shock written across his brother's face, Elrohir let out a heavy breath.
"…With this leg, I cannot run. But you can… Have you not realized? We are trapped. We fired the signal flare, yet nothing came from the watchtowers. They have likely all been dealt with. And our horses are probably dead as well—I saw the Dark Elf archers positioned ahead where the horses fled…"
Elladan flinched. The truth struck him like a cold wave. If their horses were gone, their chances of fleeing across this rocky plain on foot were nearly nonexistent. If the enemy wanted them alive, they would move swiftly—and that meant mounts ready nearby.
Elrohir continued in a low whisper:
"They want to capture us alive, brother. That means their true targets are our father—or our grandmother. If we both fall into their hands, we become a powerful bargaining piece against them."
Elladan's voice trembled with hesitation.
"You want me to leave my own brother—my twin—here?"
Before Elrohir could answer, he noticed movement. He swung his blade just in time to deflect a whip snapping toward him. Elladan felt a shiver and leapt aside; four crossbow bolts struck the ground at leg height where he had stood only a heartbeat before. Without hesitation, he drew his bow and released a rapid volley—two Dark Elves fell with arrows through their eyes, another clutched his shoulder in agony. The rest took cover swiftly, escaping the hail of shafts.
Elrohir watched the tightening circle cautiously. When he heard the familiar whistle of a bolt slicing through the air, he pushed off his uninjured leg and barely managed to leap aside. An arrow buried itself where he had stood. He frowned and looked toward the Dread Lord who had fired it. The lord answered with a mocking grin.
"Ah, do not look at me like that. My task is to capture you. If I meant to kill you, your struggle would already be over."
The weight of their predicament left Elrohir no room for reply. He ducked a lateral strike and countered with his sword against a Witch Elf. She sprang back, avoiding a fatal blow, though a thin, bloody line opened across her abdomen. Elrohir slashed to the right, deflecting a whip that coiled toward him, then retreated. Two more crossbow bolts thudded into the earth where he had just been.
Being forced into constant motion strained his wounded leg. Blood flowed faster; the pain throbbed deep into the bone. Instinctively clutching his leg, he gritted his teeth and groaned:
"UGH!"
At that instant, he raised his sword to block a vertical strike descending upon him. The full force of the blow pressed onto his injured leg. Elrohir clenched his teeth, trying to push his opponent back, but he could not regain proper balance. As the Dark Elf before him increased the pressure, an arrow suddenly pierced the elf's throat, dropping him lifeless to the ground.
Elladan, having saved his brother, sent another rain of arrows toward the advancing enemies—but they took cover once more, avoiding the deadly shafts.
As Elladan darted to the side, three arrows struck the ground right beside him. Pivoting swiftly on his heel, he spun and loosed arrows at the two crossbowmen behind him; the shafts whistled past just above the elves' heads. His mind raced like a storm, searching desperately for a breach through which he and his brother could escape. The instant he lifted his foot, a whip slithered beneath him like a serpent. A short distance away, he spotted a bald, masked Dark Elf woman. He took aim and released his arrow, but she bent her body with fluid agility and evaded it. Elladan's brows knotted in frustration when Elrohir called out again—this time in Quenya, his tone edged with farewell.
"DO NOT BE A FOOL! LEAVE ME AND GO!"
The shout shook Elladan to his core, yet his mind continued to work with relentless clarity. Without abandoning his brother, he searched for ground they could defend, never losing focus for even a heartbeat; each of his movements forced the encroaching enemies to take cover. After looking around a bit more, he found the suitable spot he was looking for. He fixed his gaze on a hill to the right of the path they had come from; there were rocks on the hill suitable for hiding. At that very moment, Great Orcs advanced toward them with heavy nets in their hands. Seeing this, Elrohir roared:
"Elladan!"
The instant Elladan grasped the danger, he fired in rapid succession, halting the orcs' advance, then glided swiftly to his brother's side. Drawing an arrow, he shot the nearest foe; at such close range, the fleeing Dark Elf was struck in the shoulder. As the elf recoiled in pain and clutched the wound, Elladan drew the dagger at his belt and, with a reverse grip, slit his opponent's throat. The Dark Elf collapsed in stunned disbelief. Elladan did not pause; he leapt in the opposite direction to evade a blow from the flank. While running, he drew his bow and shot an uruk approaching from the left squarely in the forehead. The creature's eyes widened in astonishment from the impact, then it fell to the ground on its back. Barely avoiding another arrow from the Dread Lord, Elladan lunged toward his brother and shouted:
"BROTHER! WATCH OUT!"
Even as his voice drew every eye toward him, he pulled a flash bomb from his belt. Elrohir immediately understood what he intended. After dispatching the enemy before him with swift strikes, he retreated, squeezed his eyes shut, and raised his arm to shield his face. Elladan hurled the bomb into the air and, in the same breath, threw a dagger that struck it mid-flight. The ambush site was instantly swallowed by a blinding, searing white light. From the unprepared enemy ranks rose screams of agony:
"AAAA!"
"MY EYES!"
"IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"
Caught off guard by the sudden maneuver, the Dread Lord felt shock, fury, and humiliation crash over him at once. Clutching his eyes, he scrambled behind a boulder for cover, cursing inwardly.
What in the abyss was that cursed thing? Can the twins wield sorcery? Why were we not informed of this?
Stunned for only a fleeting instant by the explosion's report, the twins recovered quickly. Elladan seized the staggering Elrohir and slung him over his shoulder like a sack, then sprinted toward the hill he had chosen. By his estimation, they had two—perhaps three—minutes before the enemy regained full sight. Carried over his brother's shoulder, Elrohir gritted his teeth and whispered:
"What are you doing? You should have left me and fled!"
Breathless, Elladan answered:
"I will never abandon you! You are my brother! And even if I did run, how far could I get? We have no horses!"
Faced with this undeniable truth, Elrohir fell silent. Elladan moved like a shadow through the disoriented foes who staggered about, rubbing their eyes and colliding with one another. In the meantime, Elrohir drew two throwing knives from his belt and cast them; two enemies fell instantly, struck through the head. By the time they reached the hilltop, the enemy's sight was slowly returning. Elladan laid his brother into position. Elrohir immediately retrieved medical supplies from his dimensional pouch and began binding his wounded leg as he spoke:
"So your plan is to turn this ambush into a siege?"
Rather than answer, Elladan drew his bow. With eight successive arrows, he felled eight enemies—including several Great Orcs. Hearing the cries of pain, the others panicked and scrambled for cover despite their blurred vision. Yet seven more, unable to discern the source of the attack, were caught exposed and slain. In mere moments, the enemy had suffered seventeen casualties.
When the Dread Lord's vision fully cleared, he peered out from behind the rock. Seeing the lifeless bodies of his men and orcs—and no sign of the twins—his eyes burned red with hatred. As he scanned the terrain in mounting fury, the twins lay entrenched at the summit of the hill, observing the chaos below. They had gained a brief respite, but both knew their time was limited.
Having finished applying medicine and binding his leg, Elrohir drew out his own bow from the dimensional pouch and inspected it. After placing a full quiver of arrows beside him, he let out a deep sigh and muttered irritably:
"…Why aren't these pouches ever a little bigger? I don't have many arrows…"
Even at such a critical moment, Elladan's eyebrows twitched violently at his brother's flippancy. Clenching his teeth, he whispered in a low but commanding voice:
"Brother, focus."
Hearing the steel in his voice, Elrohir nodded like a chastened child and exhaled.
"All right."
But when he looked up at Elladan, he finally noticed the extent of the bleeding from his brother's chest. His brows furrowed with worry; the trace of mockery vanished from his voice. He asked in a quiet, anxious whisper:
"You told me the wound on your chest was minor! Did it worsen while you carried me here?!"
At those words, Elladan blinked in surprise and brought his hand to his chest. For a moment he stared blankly at his palm, now slick with warm, heavy blood. Only then did he truly register his condition; from the deep gash where his armor had been cut, a thin but relentless stream of blood seeped downward. He clicked his tongue sharply in pain.
"TCH!"
Leaning back against the cold stone behind him for support, he turned his gaze once more to his brother.
"…It has widened. Until you mentioned it, I did not even feel it. How is your leg?"
Still studying his brother's wound with concern, Elrohir answered honestly:
"…Bad. The arrow lodged in it has completely locked the muscle. I can barely move it. If I pull it out now, the bleeding will worsen—it is acting as a plug for the moment."
They felt no need to lie to one another; each knew the other well enough to sense even the faintest tremor of pain. By lineage they were close to the High Elves, and their bodies had remained upright through the battle thus far only by the relentless surge of adrenaline. But now both felt their strength beginning to falter, their endurance slowly eroding. Perhaps these wounds would not kill them outright—but when blood loss and exhaustion combined, their bodies would inevitably fail, and they would collapse where they stood. And when that moment came, captivity would be unavoidable.
There was yet another danger they did not know: the tips of the Dark Elves' weapons had been coated with a paralytic poison. Their lineage might prevent it from rendering them completely helpless—but before long, severe numbness and loss of mobility would begin to take hold.
At the same time, the twins lifted their gazes toward the distant western horizon and, in silent unison, formed the same prayer within their hearts:
'Thoron, please endure and reach Rivendell… You are our only hope.'
---
(4856 Words)
Author's note: In the last two chapters, to improve the writing style, I used AI to edit after finishing the chapters. Did anyone notice any problems? I did this after a friend who read the chapters said they were very raw. While some parts were good, I spent the last two hours re-editing the chapters that the AI had edited... Despite warning and clearly stating it, it added too much drama or exaggerated editing in some places... If you didn't like the chapters, please let me know... I'm eagerly awaiting your thoughts.