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"Orc (Black Tongue)"

Memory/thought

"Sindarin"

Sîdh

The early autumn was a busy time by the river in the forest. The winter was fast approaching, so every being had to prepare. There were acorns and berries to store, there were nests to shore up, there young to brief on the harsh realities of the cold. The air was filled with the bustle of the animals and the rustle of the trees. In the canopy of the trees, a few cardinals playing a very intense game of chase, and many of the trees were closely following their progress. On the forest floor, three baby deer were playing with wet leaves, and a brown bear was arranging the berries it had harvested just so. The tranquility of the scene was shattered when two elves raced into the clearing.

Elladan and Elrohir leapt over fallen logs, skidded around the ancient trunks of the forest, and narrowly avoided trampling several confused looking fawns. As they were running, each reached around their back to grasp their bow, and readied an arrow on the string, holding it taut so they could shoot at a moments notice. In what seemed like an age, but was probably no more than a minute, they arrived at the scene, standing at the top of a small hill looking down onto a river bank.

Ten orcs stood around a small figure, who looked to be no more than five years of age. The child lay limp on the ground, and Elladan could make out a trickle of red cascading down their temple. A few feet away sat a smaller figure, however this little one was awake. Awake and clearly terrified. He whimpered as the orcs drew closer, laughing as they shoved him off the rock and onto the ground. One raised its hand to strike the child, only to fall backwards with an arrow protruding from its chest.

"This is an elven arrow!" Shouted an orc before another arrow lodged in its throat. The orc fell to the ground, blood gurgling from the wound in its neck.

Elladan and Elrohir stepped out of the cover of the trees to lure them away from the young ones on the ground. The thirteen remaining orcs snarled and yelled, rushing up while brandishing their weapons. Soon their yells turned to screams as orc after orc was swiftly cut down with well-aimed arrows before they had even crested the hill.

The twins ran down the hill, kneeling down to inspect the children for injuries. "Elrohir" Elladan called "Before the orc had yelled that these were elflings, but surly that is impossible? The last elfling was born over two thousand years ago."

Elrohir smiled and replied "Aye. The orc probably meant human child who...By the Valar!" Elrohir swept their hair behind their ears to see if the extent of the wound on their head, only to reveal an ear with a small but definite point. Elladan followed suit, and discovered yet another pointed ear.

Nearby, the heard the sound of groaning. Elrohir grabbed his bow and leapt up, certain it was another orc who had been injured as opposed to kill. Another small figure lay upon a boulder. Surly not. There have been no children for two thousand years, and now the Valar see to bless us with three? Sure enough, behind the child's inky black hair poked two very pointed ears.

חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת

The monsters were worse than Death Eaters. They may not have been more dangerous, but unlike when he was up against Death Eaters, Harry was completely helpless. Also, Death Eaters had some semblance of personal hygiene. These monsters stunk, like they were already dead and rotting. He had just noticed another person like him had come to the river when they burst through the trees and started shouting. Harry cried out when they knocked out the other person with him, but before he could scramble down to help one of them grabbed his arm and started smiling at him. This was worse than the yelling. He saw its hand lift up and braced himself. It was grabbing him, it was going to hit, it was going to hurt. Harry started breathing in and out, in and out, too fast, everything was happening to fast and too slow. He was back, he was in a new body just to go back to being Freak. He was never getting out, never getting out. And then he was lost to memory.

He was five years old. It was dark, but it was always dark in his cupboard. But the dark was safe. No one hurt him in the dark. The dark meant alone, and alone was good. The dark didn't care he was a freak, it didn't care he was a burden. The latch outside the door started to shake, and it opened with an ominous creek. Uncle Vernon stuck his hand in and dragged Harry out by his already hurting wrist. "Freak!" He yelled, spittle flying into Harry's face. He slowly took out his belt, folded it, and smiled.

חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת

The smallest elfling whimpered, muttering in Sindarin. With his acute hearing, it was not difficult for Elladan to make out the words. He kept saying "I'll be good, I promise" and "Please, it hurts." Elladan was horrified, no being so young should speak with such fear. With infinite care, he picked the elfling up and settled him across his chest, rubbing circles on his back while softly crooning the old lullaby his Nana used to sing. The elfling yawned and snuggled closer into his embrace, unconsciously seeking comfort from what appeared to be the most caring Ellon he had come in contact with in some time. Elladan looked to the other elfling, still unconscious with a nasty concussion and sighed, slightly dazed. How could beings so pure endure so much hardship? He steeled himself and stood up, eliciting a whine from the little one clinging to his tunic.

"Sîdh, gwinig, all is well" Elladan said, scooping up the other child with his free hand. With both arms full of elfling, he set of in search of his brother so they could deliver the treasures to their Adar.

חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת חץ וקשת

Translation:

Sîdh - Peace

Gwinig – Little one, baby

Ada - father