Dark, heavy clouds threatened rain above the Coldfells north of Rivendell, but the sons of Elrond and their companion continued on towards their campsite. It was but a few leagues away, and they expected to arrive there before the storm broke.

"We must be very careful, Estel," said Elladan sternly, "for this is troll country."

"We could easily slay a troll," said Estel, with confidence. "It would be no hard thing for the sons of Elrond."

"Ai, Estel," Elrohir replied, bitterness tainting his laugh, "you know nothing of trolls. They are at least ten feet tall, massive in girth and made of something like stone. Many Elves and Men of high renown have they slain."

"I thought they were truly made of stone," said Estel with a frown. "What are they made of?"

"No-one knows," Elladan told him. "Trolls are the spawn of Morgoth, and turn to stone when exposed to sunlight. They are wicked and very cruel; and killing them is no easy task."

"I heard they had names like people," said Estel, who was eager to learn about monsters, and hoped to slay one some day. "Do they have names like people, Elladan?"

"I have never thought to ask such things, and it matters little to me anyway," Elladan asserted. "All I know is that, when they take hold of Elf or Man, they tear him limb from limb for sport, then roast or boil the poor wretch, whether he be dead or alive at the time."

"They did that to Arador," Elrohir added, a dark look in his eye. "We came too late to save him. It burns my heart to think of it."

Estel went quiet. It was one thing to dream of doing great deeds one day like a hero of old, but when he saw in the eyes of his brothers the horror of the evils they had faced, he could no longer think of slaying monsters as a sporting challenge. After a while, he asked, "What happened to Arador?"

Elladan sighed. He composed himself, clearly upset by the memories that bubbled to the surface of his mind. He took a deep breath and said, "It is dreadful to think of, Estel, but I shall tell you so you will understand why even the Elves fear them.

"Arador was a Dúnedain chieftain who dwelt in Eriador. He was a scion of Númenor, a brave warrior... and our friend. One day, he went riding out here with a few of his men, for word had come to them that trolls were attacking travellers who passed this way. I presume he thought that he would be safe during the day, but it was a day like this: dim and overcast. One of the Men survived, and told us that, as he rounded the corner of that spur over there, two trolls leapt out and set about them. He said it was as if two huge lumps had broken away from the hill and attacked them. They came out roaring and frightened the horses. In fact, the Man's life was spared because he was riding at the rear of the party. His horse bolted and bore him nearly all the way back to Eriador before he was able to regain mastery of the beast.

"Elrohir and I were out upon errantry, and saw the Man struggle to bring his horse to a halt. We rode over and helped to calm the beast down. The Man told us what had happened, and we rushed to render what aid we could, though we knew it was already too late."

Estel wondered at the lines that deepened on his brother's face as he spoke of this horror. Though Elladan was stern by nature, he was also a gentle, loving person and his face was as fair as any Elf's. Now he looked older, careworn, and very sad. A rush of sympathy flooded Estel's heart, and he leaned over in his saddle to pat his brother's arm.

"The Man came with us to the place where the trolls had come forth," said Elrohir, picking up the thread of the story, "and there we found some of the Men's gear scattered about. We got down from our horses to see if we could find any indication of where the Men might be, when a scream rent the air, followed quickly by another. We got back on our horses. I blew my horn to call for aid and to frighten our enemies.

"When we reached the place the screams came from, we saw a sight so vile it chills our blood to this day. Just around the corner of that spur Elladan pointed out, there is a small wood. A short distance in, there is a clearing, and near that clearing is a cave. In that cave, the trolls had their lair. There they hid the goods they stole from Elves and Men. We went to the clearing and found parts of Men scattered around; every blade of grass was covered with their blood. One of the Men still lived, though both his arms had been torn off."

"Was it Arador?" asked Estel, with bated breath.

"No," replied Elladan, as a tear rolled down his cheek. "We thank the Valar that his end was swift. A fire burned in the middle of this horror, and on it was the limbless body of a Man being roasted on a spit. I will say no more, for the memory upsets me too much."

"What about...?" asked Estel, but Elrohir interrupted him. "We gave him something for the pain, and he died soon afterwards. The trolls were gone; I think they went into the cave, afraid of our wrath. I did not look until a few days later, when we brought some strength of Men here to root them out. We took the remains of the Men the trolls had killed and buried them with honour. Their barrow is a few leagues hence."

"Did you find them?" asked Estel. "The trolls, I mean?"

"No," replied Elladan with a sniffle as he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, "they were long gone when we arrived with the other Men. That was when we found the cave and all the treasure. We divided it up among the Men, for we had promised them a share of anything we found, and they helped us to complete our sad task of burying the dead. There were many bones in that clearing."

"Is that why we are here today?" asked Estel. "To hunt trolls?"

"We are but seeking signs of them, Estel," said Elrohir. "You are yet untried in battle, and we would not risk our little brother in such an enterprise. We will search the clearing tomorrow, when there is less danger of being caught. If we see any bones or other signs that the trolls have returned to this place, we will go and get help to destroy them."

"That is wise," said Estel quietly, chastened by the thought of having upset his brothers. "I am sorry I grieved you so."

"We are grieved at the cruelty of the trolls," said Elrohir, his voice sober, "and the loss of our friends in such a manner. Would that they had grown to old age and died peacefully in their beds. That would be much easier to bear; but we live in evil times, and wickedness oft goes unpunished."

"We will punish them," Estel affirmed. "I will do my part and we will defeat them together."

"If we can," said Elladan. "They are cunning and very strong. If we do come across one, Estel, you must be careful, for 'tis better to be a live mouse than a dead wolfhound."

The spur that Elladan had indicated earlier was just ahead of them now, and a fine rain began to fall as they approached it. As they continued on their way, an oppressive silence weighed down on them.

"It is too quiet," said Estel, who was looking warily around. "I hear no birdsong, and see no signs of animals moving about."

He had been on patrol with the Elves before, but in places that were reasonably safe. This place had a whiff of doom about it. The air was heavy and the feeling of being watched was a constant sensation that gnawed at his nerves, stretching them to breaking point.

"Aye," said Elladan, "I also feel the silence. 'Tis more than the weather keeps them still."

"The tale of Arador seems real to me now, as if the memory was my own," the young Man said.

"Then be sure to heed the warning in it," answered the Elf, the image of his brother, who rode at the rear. "Be very careful. They can strike quickly, and the lack of light may tempt them out of their caves."

The stillness all around them lay like a blanket on the group, who quickened the pace of their horses, anxious to get away if they could.

"Elrohir," said Estel, fearing to bring a similar fate upon himself as had befallen on the Dúnedain chieftain, "I think they are waiting for us. They know we are coming."

"It would be better to keep quiet lest your chatter bring them forth," said Elladan with a deep frown.

"Yes, Elladan," replied Estel, contrition in his tone. A tight feeling was building up inside him, slowly crushing his lungs. He was finding it increasingly hard to breathe. Finally, he realised he had been holding his breath.

"It was just around this corner, where the spur of the hill cuts into the road," said Elrohir. "Beware, for they can move with great speed, despite their great size." He pulled his reins in tight, halted his horse, and dismounted.

The others stopped too, waiting for Elrohir to tell them it was safe to proceed. Elrohir bade his horse keep still, then crept along, climbing up the hillside as he did so.

The other two pulled out their weapons, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Estel's senses were sharpened by the impending danger; he was aware of every sight, sound and smell. There was something ahead of them, just around the corner - he could feel it!

"I heard it from one of the survivors," said Elladan, loudly.

'Be quiet, you fool!' thought Estel. 'Do you want to bring them all out to slay us?' He dared not say such a thing out loud. The son of Elrond sounded as if he was preparing to sit down and eat, not preparing to face a deadly foe. Subterfuge? Probably. Of course! Elladan wanted to cover any sound his brother made as he crawled along, an inch at a time.

"They were waiting in ambush around the corner, and as he rode along, one of them leapt out and seized him by the neck. He had no chance to defend himself, and there was nothing the other Dúnedain could do. He died instantly, and that was a mercy, for trolls are cruel - no better than beasts," said Elladan. "They have no honour."

The young Man found it hard to suppress a grin. Clearly, Elladan was trying to provoke them. "I hear they stink like swine and have no manners," Estel declared, an impish expression on his face. Arador would be avenged if there were indeed trolls lying in wait for them. Surely there was nothing to fear if the sons of Elrond were there.

"I think they are disgusting," said Elladan, who watched his brother with a careful eye, an arrow nocked in his bow.

Estel grinned his approval, then turned to observe his foster-brother's progress.

Elrohir moved upwards; the blade of his drawn sword flashed dully in the twilight. The others watched him, tense at the prospect of battle, ready for anything. Elrohir continued to make his way to the top of the spur with great care while his companions talked loudly, apparently making plans to stop and rest. He stopped near the top and turned around, nodding.

"I think we should make camp here," said Elladan. "This looks like a good place."

"I will go and gather firewood," said Estel, who remained on his horse.

Suddenly, a pair of hill-trolls rushed out roaring. Ten feet tall with cumbrous arms as long as their bodies, they attacked with surprising speed. They brandished clubs made from tree trunks, and tried to swipe the travellers from their mounts.

Estel's horse reared up. The Man reached up and sliced the nearest troll's throat. It dropped its club, and Estel stabbed it in its big round belly as Elladan shot it.

The other one swung at Elladan, who leapt off his horse and shot it in the shoulder. It howled in agony, its small mean eyes shut tight, and lashed out again. Elladan shot it in the chest this time; pulling arrow after arrow out of his quiver, he shot it again and again.

Elrohir leapt down from his vantage point and slashed the first troll's hamstring. It raised its rocky head and roared. Estel, who was still on horseback, drove his sword into the troll's belly where he had wounded it before. It collapsed in a heap; black blood gushed out in a steaming stream as Estel rode around to help his brothers.

He saw Elrohir hamstring the other troll while Elladan shot it over and over again. Estel raced towards them and swiped at the troll's neck as it collapsed. Then he helped his brothers to finish it off. Only Elven blades could have cut through the thick, stony skin of the trolls, and the three warriors found it very hard to dispatch them. At last, the trolls stopped moving, and the warriors ended their fight.

The three of them stood for a moment over the corpses of the trolls. Estel wiped the sweat off his brow. "Do you think they were the ones who slew Arador?" he asked them.

"I do not know," replied Elrohir, "but I am glad you are here, Estel. Surely you are a scion of the Dúnedain, for you are truly as noble and brave as they are!"

"Aye, Estel," added Elladan. "You have distinguished yourself today, and Adar shall know of it."

TBC...