Elrond is trapped in the dark for @whumpril Day 27: Prank goes wrong
“No, no, no, no, no….” Elros’s muffled cries reached his ears through the solid wood. “I didn’t mean it. Oh, Elbereth, I didn’t mean it!”
Elrond, trapped in the dark, couldn’t care less what his brother had meant; it was what he had done that mattered. ‘Help me take Maglor’s armour,’ he’d begged Elrond this morning, ‘he can’t ride out tomorrow if he doesn’t have it.’ Elros had promised to hold Elrond’s waist fast while he reached into the great chest to retrieve it, but as Elrond had squirmed, trying to stretch his fingers far enough, Elros had let go and Elrond had tumbled in. Why, oh why, had he agreed?
“Elros,” Elrond called out, alarmed at how squeaky and panicked his voice sounded, “get me out! Get me out, now!”
“I can’t, Elrond!”
“You have to! You have to!” It was getting hard to breathe. His cheek was pressed against the great burlap sack in which Maglor kept his mail, and the hard edges on Maglor’s greaves dug into Elrond’s shins. The smell of oiled metal was overwhelming. “Please, Elros! You have to…”
The latch rattled. “I can’t lift it.”
Scared and furious, Elrond kicked up at the heavy lid which had snapped shut over him a mere moment after his feet cleared the chest’s lip. He could no more budge it than Elros could. There came a thump against the side, and the sound of Elros sobbing. Elrond began to scream. His voice no longer sounded like his own.
Read the rest below the cut, or on A03
“What’s all this noise?” The voice drifted through the dim world as if it were from a dream. The chest’s thick walls softened it, as it softened all things. Metal, chain and burlap no longer felt cold and harsh against his body. He hardly felt his body at all, as if someone had wrapped a thick cloak underneath his skin. He felt curiously content and detached, and wondered if he might be dying. “Where is your brother?” the voice demanded, and he found that dying did not stop him from feeling pity for the poor soul the voice questioned.
Snuffles and sobs were all the answer the voice got. Oh, poor child, he thought, and wondered if the elfling was younger than he. The child certainly sounded to be.
Then, with a loud creak, light burst into the world and he blinked up at a frantic, dark-haired elf who stood staring down at him with concern.
Why is he so worried? he wondered.
“Elrond?” The elf spoke. The voice belonged to him, then. Who was this Elrond he asked after? He blinked again and closed his eyes, the light was hurting them.
“Is he okay?” the elfling asked.
The big elf didn’t answer, only reached down with calloused hands and gripped his shoulders. It felt uncomfortable. It was an intrusion. He tried to bat them away, but the big, dark-haired elf wouldn’t let go. “You’re free, now, Elrond. You’re safe.”
Oh, is that my name? he wondered.
The dark-haired elf—Maglor, he remembered—smelled of horses and green things. Elrond turned to bury his face into Maglor’s chest and wondered why his tunic was wet.
“Hush, it’s alright.” The words fell soft and warm against his ear.
“Are we in trouble?” squeaked the other child—Elros. Elbereth, how had he forgotten?
“No,” replied Maglor in a tone that suggested they probably should be. “You are fortunate I need to replace one of these straps, or else Elrond here could have been trapped all night.”
“Must you go?” Elrond managed between sobs. Had he been sobbing all this time?
“Yes,” Maglor insisted firmly, stroking his hair. “I must. Trade agreements will not secure themselves, my dear, and these bellies need to eat.” At that Maglor poked he and then Elros in the stomach gently. “I shall only be gone a day.”
Elros answered, sounding as miserable as Elrond felt. “If you must.”
“Oh, I have your permission, do I?” Maglor sounded amused. “Thank you, my Lord.”
Even Elrond, fast as his heart was still beating and heavy as his aching body now felt, couldn’t help but laugh.
