These warnings were well founded, for someone watched them from the shadows, unable to see them but fully aware of their presence for they were near him. So near that he could nearly smell their blood; he could feel the steady pulse of their hearts, beating wildly, with blood so like his own, yet very much different. He listened to it gushing through their veins and licked his lips, thinking about how thirsty he was... so very thirsty for fresh blood. After feeding on spider blood for the last month, he was so thirsty for something more substantial. Three were immortal elves, he could tell, and the other a young mortal man, for his heart was different... it beat faster, and less regularly, but with greater strength and passion when compared to the elves’ efficient indifference. Hissing, he drew closer to get a better look at the blonde elf. Was that the elf that he thought it was? It could not be... but perhaps one of his descendants.
“Elladan, just try to keep up!” Estel, the young human, cried as he gave his foster brother’s horse a swift slap on her hindquarters. She whinnied and jolted forward, breaking into a gallop with Elladan clinging to her back. Estel was laughing as he spurred his stallion on, matching Elladan’s speed along the pathway. Elrohir, the identical twin to Elladan, turned to Legolas with a look of helplessness before he too spurred his mare to match their pace. Legolas growled in frustration, and tried to catch up the fleeing sons of Elrond. Estel was in the lead, his horse kicking up snow and exhaling huge bursts of steam. Soon, the path grew narrow, and Elladan and Elrohir were riding next to one another, but if they did not break apart soon, they would strike a tree.
Elrohir quickly pulled his reins to the left, slipping between the thick trunks. “Stop!” he commanded his mare in elvish, but to no avail, for something seemed to have spooked his normally well-mannered mount. “Stop, I said, stop!” He continued, his voice edged with panic as they continued to run through the dense shrubbery. Elrohir clutched the reins tighter, his knuckles turning white, and drew himself nearer to his mare’s warm body so that he would not strike his head on low branches. Eventually she drew to a halt, and he slid off, staring as she pawed the ground with one hoof and snorted, her nostrils flaring. She was still uncomfortable, but no longer in a complete panic. Idly stroking her frothy coat, Elrohir wondered what could have frightened her so. His answer spoke to him.
“Help me!” Cried an elvish voice, small and child-like. Elrohir turned to see a little elven girl in a tattered dress, barely enough for the snowy weather, standing a short ways away from him in a patch of moonlight that broke through the branches. Her face was ashen, and her wide blue eyes streaming with tears.
“What is amiss, little one?” Elrohir asked, approaching the girl openly after tying his mare to a nearby tree.
“I am lost!” She cried, allowing Elrohir to wrap his cloak about her.
“All is well,” He soothed, rubbing her back, “you are from the city in these woods?”
She sniffed and nodded, wiping her eyes on his cloak.
“My companions and I are headed there; we shall take you home.” He gently clasped her small hand, “I am Elrohir, what is your name?”
“Aini.”
Elrohir found it most curious that she was so far out alone, and asked her, “Are you alone, Aini?”
The girl shook her head, hiccupping softly, “My brother is still in the cave. He was attacked by spiders... can you save him?”
“Where is he?”
She grasped Elrohir’s hand tightly, and led him to a place where a cave mouth yawned open, pointing one finger towards it, “In there.”
His expression turned grim; Elrohir knew that there was little chance of the girl’s brother living still, but perhaps if she was still alive, then so was he. “What is your brother's name?”
“Aiden.”
“Thank you. Now, wait out here.” He instructed, releasing her hand and unsheathing his long sword. Then he ventured forth into the foreboding darkness. The air smelt of spider webs, mildew and dust and he waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust before peering around. But still the shadows held fast, and the cavern remained veiled to his sight.
“Aiden!” Elrohir called, cautiously taking a few more steps into the inky blackness, “Aiden, are you here?”
Do you live?’ Elrohir mentally added.
A sudden sound, somewhere between a hiss and a growl sounded behind Elrohir and suddenly something landed on his back. It's limbs held fast as he struggled, twisting and turning in an attempt to dislodge the attacker, the cavern too dark for him to make out its form. It was light, but very strong, and very agile, for as much as Elrohir desperately tried to reach it, it kept moving about.
At some point he managed to get his sword behind himself and stab at the attacker, only achieving one solid hit which then earned him a sharp pain in his neck; a bite, he realized.
Elrohir gasped, his equilibrium thrown off with the added weight and pain. He toppled, face-first, towards the ground, the attacker still clinging to his back. Slowly Elrohir felt himself grow dizzy, his senses melting into vague, hazy messages. His limbs ceased to work, growing numb and freezing. Then he knew that he could not remain conscious for much longer; the shadows pulling at his mind grew too strong and at last Elrohir sank into the welcoming oblivion.