Lost

Canon compliant AU.  Eluréd and Elurín were closer than Maedhros ever suspected.  Takes place from Elurín's POV, just in case it's confusing.  I suppose this piece could be vaguely related to "Harm" and "Reap" amongst others.  I have plans in the works.  In this AU, of course, the twins will not be dying of starvation in the forest.  Takes place in the forest outside Menegroth just after the Second Kinslaying.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion

Pairings: none

Characters: Elurín, Eluréd, Maedhros (mentions the Kinslayers, Nimloth, Dior and other random Sindar)

Warnings: canon compliant AU, child abandonment, childish descriptions of bloodshed, manhandling and abuse of children

Song: Tsukimori Song

Words: 1,302
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lost (adjective): not made use of, won, or claimed; no longer possessed; no longer known; unable to find the way
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/lost

It was scary.

Scary in a different way than all the shouting and all the red all over the walls of their home as it descended into chaos.  Different than the strange armored monsters with the bright, terrifying eyes and the eight-pointed stars and the long, gleaming swords who made people scream and cry and lie down still and never get back up.  Different than screaming over and over for their mother, who would not get up from her pool of red and hold them and protect them as the strangers captured them and took them away.

Dragged them from the confines of the city like ragdolls, heedless of their wailing and tears and tripping upon the hard stone.  Took them into the trees that stood as silent sentinels, quiet and imposing and shadowed.  Dropped them unceremoniously in a clearing surrounded by unfamiliar tress and left them alone.

They had never been away from their mother or their nurse for any long period of time before.  They had never even left the confines of the royal wing of the caves, let alone the underground city of Menegroth itself.

They had never been outside.  And they had never been alone.

And Elurín did not know where they were.  Somewhere out in the woods in the dark without even knowing which way they had come from.  All he remembered were the scary invaders all covered in red with their harsh, low voices and their strong, bruising grips carrying he and his brother, tossing them down into the dirt and yelling furiously until they scrambled upwards.  Telling them to be gone and snarling obscenities until they were fleeing for their lives...

Chasing them until they lost track of which way they had turned and which trees they had passed.  Until they were scraped and covered in dirt, their palms aching from catching their falls as they stumbled and tripped through the thick, tangled underbrush.  When they finally heard no more of the clash of armored boots on the earth and the shouts and curses in malicious voices, Elurín had turned to look behind and seen only blackness.  The light of torches did not penetrate the thick curtain of ancient trees and trembling, low-hanging branches that closed off all paths of return.

Lost and alone, they wandered with no idea where they were going.

It was cold and damp and he was hungry and Eluréd was shivering and bleeding from a cut on his arm.  But Elurín did not know what he should do about any of this.  Usually there was just a time for eating when food was delivered and blankets readily available for warmth and soft, safe arms appeared to carry them to and fro whenever they were hurt or tired.  But out here there was nothing.  Nothing at all.

"Eluréd!  Pitya, are you there?"

Both twins jerked towards the voice, but Elurín did not recognize it.  It was not Nana or Ada or their nurse.  The voice was low and hoarse and masculine.  The voice of a stranger.

Elurín felt his skin break out in chills.

And then there was a light in the shadows, breaking orange and gold, flashing against the craggy bark of the trees and lighting up the forest floor.  It brought back thoughts of those frightening strangers and their sticky, unyielding red hands and their crimson torches as they chased the skittish, terrorized elflings deeper into the woods.  Before his swaying, hazy-eyed brother could call out in return at the sound of his name, Elurín grabbed his twin's hand and pulled them farther into the shadows of the thicket, heedless of the branches cutting at their cheeks and leaving behind stinging wounds.

From the forest's darkness emerged one of them.  His head was not covered with a silver helm like the others, but instead with curling waves of fire and blood.  And his eyes outshone all the other eyes, glowing demonically out toward them, sharp and bright and hot.  Upon his chest, emblazoned across tattered red fabric stained rusted brown with drying blood, rested an eight-pointed star that once might have been pristine white, but was splattered and sullied.

Red.  Everything about him was red and burning and scary.

And Elurín did not want him to find them, no matter how lost they might be.

"Elurín!" His own name was called, and those eyes flashed back and forth searchingly, waiting for them to give away their position.  So fearful was the little elfling that he drew back when they darted in the direction of the hiding place, for those eyes seemed like they could pierce any amount of darkness with their scary light and find them even in the deepest of shadows. "Please, if you are here, come out!  I... I will not harm you..."

Neither of the elflings moved.  Still as a deer blending into her thicket's camouflage, they sat and waited with widened eyes and bated breath as the stranger drew closer and closer, his footsteps soft in the dead leaves, only a faint crackling beneath the sound of his shouts.  Until he was within feet.  Within inches.

But he walked right past them and did not look back.  Did not find them.

And a few minutes later, he disappeared entirely, swallowed up into the forest just the same way he had appeared.  Leaving them alone again.

Beside him, Eluréd was whimpering.  Both of them wanted something to eat, but they could not go back home--and did not know how, even had they been brave enough to face the invaders.  For a moment, Elurín almost considered going after the red stranger who had promised not to hurt them, of begging for him to take them back home where it was safe and warm and where there was food and comfort.

But then he remembered the other pale faces in their silver helms with angry, glowing eyes.  What if it was a trick?  What if those crazy, vicious strangers wanted to hurt them even more and were only being nice to lure them out so that the strangers could--?

It had been the men with the stars on their chests that had thrown them out into the darkness first.  That had left them outside, alone and terrified and exhausted.  And no matter how much he wished they were not surrounded by the silence of the ancient forest--with only the creaking of the old trees and the rustle of unseen creatures crawling by to break the eerie stillness and silence--he did not dare trust in the invaders who had hurt Nana and taken him and his brother away.

He remembered well the red that came from being hurt--that came from pain and bright swords and rough hands.  This stranger was just as covered in it as the others had been.  He could promise all he wanted, but he was no different than the others.  Only maybe he would spill their red, too, if he caught them all by themselves in the dark, instead of only chasing them and hunting them.

When the man's voice finally faded completely, Elurín sat still with his brother, huddled close, knowing not what to do now or where to go or if they would ever manage to find their way back home again.

All he knew was that lost and alone was better than found and hurt.

He had seen what those star-people did to elves.

He had seen the red.  And it was that fear--at knowing they were hunted and utterly unsafe--that gave him the strength to sit still and not cry.  To brave the blackness for just a few moments longer and not turn back.
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Let's just say that my theory goes like this: six-year-old elflings are approximately two-and-a-half to three years old physically speaking.  Elves tend to mature a little faster than humans mentally, though, so I figured these two would at least be smart enough to realize that the Noldor are there to kill the Sindar and wouldn't randomly trust Maedhros if he goes looking for them.

Actually, until I wrote it, it didn't even occur to be, but if they were chased away, they could easily suspect that the Noldor are still after them.  Since the Silmarillion never explicitly states exactly "how" Celegorm's people dumped them in the woods.  I mean, if they just left them at the edge of the woods the brats would find their way out, but if they chased them in and let them get lost, well, it's killing two birds with one stone... uh, metaphorically and literally, I suppose.  But this is all just a thought that struck me to explain why two frightened, hungry children would completely ignore Maedhros when he calls for them (besides the fact that he's a little scary).

Today's song is Tsukimori Song by Masafumi Takada (and Etsuko Ichikawa as a co-composer) from Zero: Mask of the Lunar Eclipse (a.k.a. Fatal Frame IV).  Now, I don't actually play most of these horror story games--they aren't my cup of tea, because in real life I'm a complete and utter scaredy-cat, trust me--but I really love some of the creepy music and lyrics that show up in them.  Tsukiko Amano does an awesome job doing songs for these games as well.  But anyway, I just thought the aura of the music was exactly what I was looking for, so yeah.

By the way, =Gold-Seven has revamped the picture with the twins disguised as Ents.  Here's the latest version of it: In the Deepest Wildwood.