All I Have Left

Title: All I Have Left, 13/13
Author: Enismirdal enismirdal @ fluffydragon.co.uk
Pairing: Eluréd/Elurín
Rating: R
Warnings: Twincest
Thanks to Tux for the readthrough, for putting up with this for literally years and for being a continual inspiration!
Disclaimer: They're not my characters; they're Tolkien's. Go him for inventing them! No profit made, no disrespect intended to the Professor or his works.
Summary: After the attack on Doriath, the twin sons of Dior were taken by Celegorm's servants and abandoned in the wood to starve. But their fate was never confirmed...
A/N: Naath's challenge was to complete the set: Elladan/Elrohir, Elrond/Elros…and Eluréd/Elurín.

***

It did not take more than a week of travel to locate a company of Elven warriors, though in that week they were ambushed three times by small wandering groups of Morgoth’s servants. Indeed, on the last occasion they only barely escaped capture and both took injuries. Eluréd worried about his brother; Elurín refused to accept any slowing of their pace, and never complained of discomfort, but Eluréd could not believe that the long, shallow gash running from his hip almost to mid-thigh was not causing him extreme pain. Eluréd had been forced to stitch it using the last of their medical supplies left over from when they had previously been in the army and thus had seen for himself the size of the wound. Yet all Elurín would say was, “Give me a kiss first thing in the morning and last thing at night and I will be fine.” Left with no better options, Eluréd did just that - and took things a little further just for good measure - but was unable to hide his relief when they were shown to a tine tent by the grim-looking Noldorin officer and provided with fresh salve and bandages.

Getting a message to Celeborn was more problematic. Their inquiries yielded only the information that Celeborn was marching further west at present and was far enough away that sending a direct personal message would be largely out of the question, unless they were prepared to drop their current cover and let it become generally known that they were more than just two Sindarin vagrants looking for work and keep and, in fact, the heirs of Doriath. This was not something Eluréd was willing to do, both out of a wish to protect his brother from becoming a target for the enemy and because, within a day of their arrival in camp, it became clear that these Noldor were very much Fëanorian-sympathisers. It was hard enough biting his tongue constantly to avoid pointing out that their war heroes were slaughterers of families and children, without giving them possible reason to harass him and Elurín and cause controversial division in the camp. Eluréd despised the lieutenant of this company, but after he and Elurín demonstrated their capability as archers in the first skirmish, the lieutenant held the twins in high regard. The result was a bigger tent, better rations and more access to officers who might be able to contact Celeborn.

***

Unfortunately, Eluréd did not manage to rein in his temper completely. Nearly a month into their new regime of serving with the Noldor, the elder twin was hauled up in front of the lieutenant for fighting. Unable to offer a satisfactory explanation for his impulsive actions, and most specifically their vehemence, without revealing far more information about himself than he was willing to, he received the penalty of twenty lashes for his behaviour.

Elurín watched the punishment in silence. He had witnessed most of the conversation leading up to the fight, and could certainly understand Eluréd’s reaction, in spite of the inevitable consequences. Some of the other Elves had been saying some distinctly unsavoury things about Dior and the Silmarilli, and at least partially endorsing some of the actions of Celegorm in relation to the Fall of Doriath; it was no wonder Eluréd had been seething. In fact, it was Elurín’s private belief that his brother would have been perfectly justified in responding to the remarks with rather more than just knocking out one of the Elves’ teeth and bruising his jaw. This, however, did not make the lashing any easier to witness.

As he expected, Eluréd bore the lashes quietly, face pale and lips compressed into a tense line. The flogging was not actually an especially harsh one; Elurín did wonder if the lieutenant had heard about the insults and realised that some of them would cause offence to /any/ Sinda - even if he was unaware that, as son of Dior and rightful Prince of Doriath, Eluréd found them even more infuriating than most would.

Eluréd collapsed when the bonds that tied his wrists to the post were released, temporarily unable to stand owing to the trauma. Elurín rushed to his brother as soon as the lieutenant nodded permission for him to do so, ignoring the other spectators. He just needed to see for himself that Eluréd’s condition was really not that bad. “Let us get you back to our tent,” he murmured, helping his twin back up and trying to avoid causing Eluréd any more pain. Eluréd winced anyway.

“I would have knocked out more than one tooth if I had known I would get that…” he mumbled wryly as he leaned on his brother’s shoulders.

Elurín smiled. “Maybe next time. I think I can find some ointment to soothe the stinging…”

Eluréd allowed his brother to fuss over him in the tent but said little, his demeanour turning pensive and irritable once again. “Sometimes I wonder if our so-called allies have much more conscience than those we are at war with,” was his only notable remark.

Elurín was not certain he had a good answer to that. Instead, he combed his fingers through his brother’s coarse hair and tried to improve the atmosphere. “I think I might be making some progress finding someone who can get a message to Celeborn for us.”

“How soon?” Eluréd’s tone sounded almost disinterested, but the way his gaze flicked across to meet his brother’s betrayed his curiosity. Elurín was anxious to be away from this group as well, and he did not hide the fact.

“Maybe as soon as ten days - if I can stay in his favour,” Elurín replied with forced cheerfulness. “While you were getting into trouble I have been working on gaining the trust of an Elf who is, apparently, the second cousin of one of Lady Galadriel’s handmaidens.”

Eluréd was gracious enough to look a little contrite, recognising that maybe the time he had spent brawling could have been better used. But Elurín knew already that his twin did not regret the fight, so the expression was brief. “You did well,” said Eluréd, managing to sound affectionate. He meekly let Elurín guide him to a prone position on top of the younger twin, Elurín’s arms draped lightly around his waist, and nuzzled into his brother’s neck. They both enjoyed lying close like that, bodies together, and it kept the pressure off his throbbing back. “It will be good to walk among Sindar again.”

“I miss hearing proper Sindarin spoken around me,” Elurín agreed as Eluréd closed his eyes tiredly. “The kind everyone spoke in Doriath…not this crude, awkward version the Noldor have learned.”

Eluréd nodded ever so slightly against his brother’s chest. “I know what you mean.” Elurín had sometimes heard it remarked that his own Iathrim dialect seemed to soften when he was amongst strangers, but Eluréd’s never did. He seemed to carry the spirit of Doriath around with him always. Now, he was humming one of their favourite lullabies from childhood, soothing them both to sleep in their comfortable, intimate position.

***

The both counted down the days until they finally received confirmation from Celeborn that he was arranging a rendezvous. By that time, both companies had tracked West, halting when the camp was just a few days’ travel from the sea. Elurín sometimes fancied he could scent salt on the wind, though mostly it was drowned amongst stronger odours of blood, mud, and unwashed horse, Orc and Man. It certainly awoke various unidentifiable emotions inside him, and Eluréd teased him fondly whenever he caught the younger twin singing a little tune to himself over dinner or when darning his tunics.

The proximity to the sea had an even stranger effect on Eluréd. His back had healed quickly, but his temper took longer to settle after the experience. For the first few weeks he was perpetually highly strung, even more protective of Elurín than usual, and showed a problematic propensity for dealing out sharp insults in response to the smallest aggravation. In the evening, he often crept away from camp, seeking the nearest copse and sitting amongst the tree branches, watching the stars wheel through the night sky.

His mood fortunately improved once they met up with Celeborn and transferred across to his predominantly Sindarin company. Elurín suspected that some of the Noldor in their previous group were as glad to see them go by that time as they had been to leave. Even then, however, Eluréd remained quiet - though not in the same hopeless way he had been earlier in the war. It was more as if his thoughts were simply elsewhere. His archery remained faultless and, as his temper calmed, his demeanour almost appeared to benefit his hand-to-hand combat. He was usually accused of being too impatient when fighting with knives and thus careless, but the air of distraction was having the effect of settling his impatience without causing him to make more mistakes.

Celeborn frequently checked on how both twins were faring, worrying in a faintly paternal manner. Indeed, after a few months of travelling up and down the coast, holding land already captured and ridding it of roving bands of Morgoth’s servants, he more or less forced them both to take a month’s leave. Eluréd, still plagued by feelings of guilt and duty to the Elves he regarded as “his people”, protested rather vigorously to the Sindarin lord about the order, but in vain. Elurín, on the other hand, was more ambivalent about the break. His morale was better than it had been for some time, improved by recent successes and Eluréd’s now appearing less troubled and lifeless, but at the same time his heart yearned for freedom amongst the forests and plains. Celeborn won, mostly; the twins took their leave, but negotiated the time down to three weeks.

They made good use of the time; on this occasion, they did locate Doriath once again. The river ran lower now, as the Valar’s rending of the earth had changed the course of a great many rivers and Sirion had been more seriously affected than most. Nonetheless, the plants were growing well, and four glorious days were spent marvelling at the new beauty. Eluréd’s smile was serene and his eyes sparkled with wonder as they walked through formerly desolate halls that were now alive with bright flowers and lush leaves.

Elurín reaped the benefits of his twin’s contentment at night, when the fire burned low and the bindweed curled up its flowers to sleep. Others, he supposed would disagree, but in his mind their love was a perfect celebration of the new awakening that Doriath had experienced. Just as the empty caves had gone from ruin to life, so those two frightened children who had once left this place had now returned as strong and utterly devoted adult Elves who reaffirmed their love over and over on the green carpet of grass, moss and clover.

In the years to come, as the war dragged on seemingly forever, those joyful times together became the catalyst for a kind of deal between the twins and Celeborn. For eleven months of each year, their bows were Celeborn’s and, by extension, the Valar’s, in service to Middle-earth. But in that last month, the time was their own.

Often they spent it at Doriath, revering the memory of the fallen ones, but feeling that those lost Elves were at least now being suitably honoured by the green and growing paradise that now flourished. The mountains, too, became a favourite retreat; Elurín’s love of bilberries only grew stronger over the years. Eluréd, charmed, went to considerable lengths to treat his brother to the delicacy whenever he felt Elurín needed spoiling - even if it meant purposefully being nice to Elves he would sooner have punched ordinarily. It was odd how these things worked, Elurín mused when one summer he tucked into a huge bowl of the juicy fruit. As much as he adored them, what meant the most to him was the realisation that Eluréd had played cards and shared ale with a taciturn Noldo for the last five weeks just to get this favour, despite having to endure a significant amount of teasing and insults in the process.

What touched Elurín still more was the knowledge that the only repayment his brother truly wanted was to see that delighted smile spread across his younger twin’s face.

Of course, Eluréd still had darker times, periods where Elurín sensed the bleak despair beneath his determination. There were nights when he knew - though even now, Eluréd tried to hide it - that Eluréd would spend the whole time awake, staring at the inside of the tent or, as the case may be, the stars. Sleep would evade him for nights on end - or he would avoid it, fearing nightmares. During those periods, the elder twin had little enthusiasm for lovemaking, but Elurín’s quiet affection and small favours - hanging out Eluréd’s damp cloak to dry by the fire, selecting the best of the rations for his brother, and so forth - would be received with softly-spoken gratitude.

***

The final years of the War of Wrath were not fought by the Elven armies so much as by the Valar themselves. Those great rendings of the Earth that Eluréd had commented on before took on new extremes. Mountains fell and new ones rose up; rushing rivers would run dry one day and the next day spring up elsewhere, a roaring torrent. Eventually, Eluréd stopped accepting the leave offered to him, his natural sense of direction so completely disoriented by all the changes that wandering more than a few miles from the camp would make him anxious and almost panicky. Elurín was equally flummoxed, though had his brother been with him, he suspected he would have coped with relearning the lay of the land. As it was, Eluréd stayed with the camp simply so that he had some way to orient himself. It was a small consolation that he appeared less depressed than Elurín had feared; although often morose and thoughtful, the elder twin poured his focus and concentration into hunting for the camp and making arrows - perfectly straight, slender weapons that flew far more gracefully than the ones used by most of the other Elves.

They spent a lot of time on the move; whilst the Valar tackled Morgoth’s great host, with assistance from the handful of Noldorin generals who had survived the insanity of the last centuries, Sindarin companies such as theirs roamed the devastated landscape to pick off pockets of Orcs and other beasts. The work reminded Elurín of his time with the Nandor and he found it, if not enjoyable, at least satisfying, as it gave them visible evidence of their progress.

Their wanderings led them through many charred remains of once thriving hamlets, both of Men and Elves, and trampled assemblages of stones and fields that presumably had once been farms. Now and again, a larger area of destruction indicated that a settlement must once have been a thriving market town; often these were razed almost to the ground, evidence of their former life indicated only by the stumps of walls and the way common weeds mingled with vegetables and cooking herbs in tattered, long-neglected gardens.

They came upon survivors sometimes too. These emaciated, tattered groups could generally be found in places so impassable that the Orcish armies avoided prolonged operations. Some of the survivors would die within days of reaching the safety of the camps, too exhausted and starved by their ordeals; others rested, recovered and joined them. Celeborn welcomed anyone he judged trustworthy, and his judgement of such things was impressively accurate. The only time he had refused a group of survivors, he had received word a few weeks later that they had joined a different group of Elves - and betrayed them, setting them up for an ambush by a small Orc company in exchange for probably a substantial payoff.

No one even thought to question his decisions after that.

***

As far as the twins were concerned, the first indication that the tide was truly turning in their favour came the day that the sky turned black and ashes fell from the clouds. Morgoth, cornered like a fox at bay, had struck out with the only weapon left to him: the winged dragons. Led by Ancalagon, the greatest and most ferocious, they swarmed from the towers of Morgoth’s fortress, so huge and black that their dark wings cast shade over the land for miles.

Their mouths belched rancid flames, and the wind carried the stench of their destruction for leagues and leagues to the south, even as far as the twins, who were a day’s travel west of the Teiglin. Everything become covered with a fine layer of grey dust, blown off the ruined, charred remains of whatever the dragons had encountered.

The Orcs screeched in delight at the realisation that the dragons had taken to the air - but the screech had an undertone of trepidation too, as they knew that Morgoth had been saving them for later and would not have deployed them now except as a last contingency. The Elves retreated into the woodlands for cover; it felt more wholesome and safer there, under a canopy of moist leaves that would not burn. Close friends clustering together for reassurance, everyone watched to see how it would end.

The twins climbed a tall tree and peeped through the dusty foliage at the sky. It was the colour of burnt wood. Eluréd stared to the west. Presently, he murmured, “The morning star is gone.”

Elurín looked too, remembering the day that bright beacon that he had always associated with hope and life had risen over the western horizon. Celeborn had said it was Eärendil, the famed voyager he had mentioned on their first meeting and, finally and after much coaxing, had revealed to them the full story of the mariner and his wife, their sister. Elurín always looked out for the brightest star in the sky when he was out on clear nights; it was a familiar comfort to him.

Eärendil reappeared late in the night, no longer low on the horizon but much higher, near the pole star, and seemed brighter and prouder than ever. To the twins’ amazement, the mariner was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of shadowed forms, which at first they could not make out. Faint cries in the night revealed the nature of this host of soaring creatures: all the flocks of birds Elurín could imagine had gathered, hawk flying beside dove, eagle beside wren. The sky seemed less dark after that and Eärendil appeared to grow larger and more glorious than ever, until Eluréd commented that he thought he could pick out the white sails of Vingilot. The light reflected off the myriad pairs of wings too, so they formed a pale, shimmering cloud that stretched overhead.

The outlines of the dragons sliced through the great flock; birds dropped, their crippled wings fluttering weakly before going still, but still the cloud continued to grow. The star of Eärendil never dimmed and sailed in circles across the sky, and then dragons fell too, until as dawn crept over the eastern mountains, Ancalagon plummeted to earth in a plume of savage flame and blackly glittering scales.

The Orcs screeched once again, this time in horror and dread; they were on the losing side now. The Elves could only gaze mutely at the scene, confused and awed, imagining how the battle would have looked had they, too, stood aboard the deck of Vingilot.

Morning came, as perfect as ever, but the hush over the Elven camps remained and many, exhausted by the events of the night, chose to sleep the first few hours. Elurín was among them; when he awoke around noon, he found a small, white feather entangled in his hair.

***

From the point of view of those fighting the war, it did not come to a simple, clean end on the date the history books report that Morgoth was recaptured and chained. For months afterwards, the twins’ lives continued much as they had for the fifty years before; Orcs did not just crumble into dust the day their master was defeated. The Wild Men, born with minds of their own, if anything grew worse and more ruthless after finding themselves without a leader to answer to.

In between the fighting, however, there were now other duties: villages slowly sprang up from the dirt, founded by stubborn survivors of the hard times. The twins, like the other warriors, assisted wherever they were needed. There were rumours filtering down from the north that the Noldor, still absorbed in battles and still, it was said, pursuing the final two Silmarilli, contributed little or nothing to this rebirth and reconstruction. The Sindar, however, and the remaining Nandor who had survived this war that was not their own, poured in their efforts and embraced the hard work. Elurín found this creation and rebuilding far more satisfying than the destruction they had grown used to bringing - unfortunately, there was not nearly enough of it.

As the survivors came to repopulate these simple new settlements, Elurín would move among the tired, frightened families offering hope and reassurance, even singing old lullabies he remembered from Doriath in order to soothe restless children. Eluréd also seemed tireless when he involved himself in the reconstructive work; he would sometimes toil from dawn till suppertime without a break, quiet but good-humoured. In this way, several families found themselves thanking the soft-spoken, rather distant Elf who brought their new home into existence so much sooner.

The comparative chaos and renewed hope was a blessing in one other way: no one showed any interest, positive or negative, in how the twins spent their precious free time. Eluréd often speculated as he lay under the stars, far from camp and with Elurín’s sweat-soaked head resting lazily on his chest, that even if they were found together, everyone’s mine was on far greater evils than the forbidden love of two brothers.

Gradually, the time between skirmishes grew longer, until they went three weeks without seeing a single Orc, and the company turned towards the sea. It was over: the Noldor had won release from their ban on returning to Valinor and were headed home, and many Sindar had expressed intentions to leave too. As the sun set upon the First Age, those remaining on both sides of the Great Sea began to make plans for the new Age now dawning ahead of them.