Unchain my heart: Part 6. Thunderstruck.
Unchain my heart series.
Logan Howlett x oc!fmale
Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.
Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.
Mia sat in silence at the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the sheets as her mind struggled to impose order on the chaos swirling inside her. Some days, the noise in her head felt overwhelming, like a storm of thoughts she couldn't silence. But it wasn't the noise that scared her most. No, what truly terrified her was the silence—the loneliness that crept in more often, as if, despite being surrounded by people, she was utterly alone.
Memories of the past few weeks flooded her mind. Waking up amidst shattered ice, frozen and terrified, completely out of control. The beast within her had emerged once again. And even though Logan had been there to pull her from the water, what happened afterward left her with an unshakeable sense that something was deeply wrong, something broken inside her. Since then, she had distanced herself from everyone, believing that perhaps isolation would keep her safe; if she could just hold it together, everything would be fine.
But it wasn't fine. Fear consumed her—not just for what she could do to others, but for what she was doing to herself. That monster inside her wouldn't leave; it lingered, waiting for a crack in her control. It was a constant battle to stay whole, to resist the wild power that grew stronger and more demanding each day.
Then, almost instinctively, her thoughts drifted to Logan. To that night when she had woken in his arms, feeling for a fleeting moment something beyond the chaos. There was something about him that calmed her, while simultaneously stirring something primal within her. A warmth that made her want to curl up closer, to bask in his presence. The beast within her purred at the mere thought of him, deepening her confusion. He had tried to reach out since that night, but every time he did, Mia built higher walls—barriers she felt were necessary but didn’t want to maintain. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not when she didn’t even understand what was happening in her own mind.
Logan was a threat to the control she so desperately craved, a temptation she feared would consume her entirely if she allowed it. Yet every time she thought of him, that inner monster stirred—not with violence, but with a curious blend of calm and desire, as if acknowledging his presence granted her a temporary reprieve from the internal war she fought.
If Logan was a challenge, Scott was an open wound. She had loved Scott for so long that sometimes she couldn’t remember what it felt like to not love him. Her love for him had been a constant, a certainty in a world filled with doubts. But lately… lately, everything she felt for him had become tainted. The trust she once had in him had crumbled, little by little. His inability to understand her turmoil, his blind obedience to Charles, his tendency to control everything without seeing what she truly needed—these things gnawed at the love she had felt, replacing it with doubts, resentment, and a deepening sadness with each passing day.
She knew she wasn’t being fair to Scott. He was trying to reach her, wanting to understand her. She could feel him—his constant presence lingering at her door, waiting for her to let him in, for the moment she was ready to talk. But each time she sensed him there, Mia curled further inward, unable to open up, unable to share what was really happening. And even though she knew she was hurting Scott, she couldn’t find a way to reconnect, to trust him again as she once had.
Some nights, Scott stood outside her door for hours, and though her mind screamed at her to simply lift her hand and open it, to let him in, she couldn’t. Fear paralyzed her. Fear of what he would see in her, fear that he might not be able to bear the truth of what was happening inside her head, inside her heart. Fear that once he saw her, he would realize that the person he loved was no longer there.
Mia shut her eyes, battling the whirlwind of emotions within her. It was a mix of loneliness, fear, and despair that left her drained. She couldn’t continue like this, avoiding everyone, building walls so high that she couldn’t see over them. But at the same time, she didn’t know how to stop it. Some days, she didn’t even recognize herself.
Yet something compelled her to break free from her isolation. One morning, while returning from class, she passed by the command room and overheard the team discussing details of a new mission. They were talking about an operation that even involved Logan, the newcomer they still didn’t fully trust.
She froze when it hit her. They weren’t going to include her. Mia knew why; she understood Charles was worried about her lack of control, the constant fear she had acknowledged. But that didn’t lessen the pain. In that moment, a torrent of emotions surged in her chest: loneliness, fear, and a growing sense of injustice. The best version of herself, the only one she still recognized, was found in the missions. But now, they had taken that from her too.
She considered throwing a fit, storming into Charles’ office like the time she had confronted Logan in the danger room. That dark part of her roared with pride, pulling her in that direction. She would let the professor know just how furious she was, how wrong he was to think of her as a ticking time bomb ready to explode…
She stopped short, just a few steps from her destination, and that inner turmoil stirred anxiously. No, that was exactly what she shouldn’t do. That was why they hadn’t included her—her lack of control. She took a few deep breaths, counting backward and chaining that angry thought back down inside her. She had to handle this right, carefully.
Turning on her heels, she returned to her room and carefully pulled out her suit. She examined it slowly. It was strange that even her outfit didn’t remind her of the new version of herself. She ran her fingertips over the material, praying it wouldn’t short out if she decided to use her new mutation.
With determined steps, she made her way to the hangar, refusing to stop when silence suddenly fell over the room. The conversation among the mutants faded to a hushed whisper as they saw her appear. She felt the weight of their gazes, but she pressed on. She brushed past Scott, ready to board the jet, but a hand clamped around her wrist, stopping her. She suppressed the urge to electrify the air around her to shake off the restriction that contact brought. Softening her gaze, she turned to face Scott’s visor.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice tight, clearly annoyed.
Mia shrugged, feigning indifference, placing her hand over his. The contact didn’t send the tingling she expected; instead, she felt nothing but his warmth.
“To the mission. This is my jet, and I’m the only one flying it.”
She yanked her wrist away. Scott frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. For weeks, he had tried to talk to her, but Mia had ignored him. Now, she suddenly appeared as if nothing was wrong, ready to board the jet without consulting anyone. The silence that hung between them only intensified the tension.
“Mia, you don’t even know the mission details.”
Without looking at him, she kept walking, her mind already set on her goal. No one was going to stop her. Not today.
“Oh, really?” she shot back, sarcasm lacing her words as she continued forward. “What are you waiting for? Spill the details, boss.”
That nickname. Mia had given it to tease him, using it only when they were in good mood. This time, it was laced with irony, and it struck him in the chest. Scott clenched his jaw, visibly upset. It was clear he didn’t want to argue in front of others, but her words had cut deep.
From a corner, Logan watched the scene in silence. His instinct told him not to intervene, though he felt a mix of relief and concern at seeing her. After so many failed attempts to connect with her, to understand what was going on, she was finally here. And though he wouldn’t say it aloud, something within him stirred at the sight of her showing that strength. The memory of holding her broken in his arms still haunted him.
Mia climbed aboard the jet, settling into the pilot’s seat, adjusting the controls with the ease of someone born to be there. She completely ignored Scott's persistent gaze, knowing he wouldn’t give up trying to talk her down. As she focused on the controls, she sensed someone else approaching.
“Mia, maybe Scott has a point. You can’t just dive into a mission without knowing the details. You haven’t even been to the briefings.” Jean’s voice came from beside her as she settled into the co-pilot seat.
A knot formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and turned to her friend.
“Hey, who says I don’t know them?”
Her mask nearly shattered at that assertion. She was on the verge of conceding and agreeing with her teammates, but a flicker of Logan’s thoughts broke through the noise. Maybe he was searching for her. No, that was impossible. She wasn’t even sure anyone could do that; it had to be a feeling that intensified as he stepped onto the vehicle. When she caught his gaze, it softened for a moment, and she decided to take a chance. She opened her mind, colliding with the swirl of thoughts and emotions that drew her in like a moth to a flame. She extended her consciousness and brushed against his in a subtle movement.
Can I? She asked silently, almost timidly. Instead of resisting like before, Logan’s mind seemed to yield to her touch, granting the permission she sought. She dove deep into it, and the mutant drew a sharp breath as he felt that familiar presence wash over him. Mia didn’t want to pry, so she patiently waited for him to share what he chose.
Logan wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but he brought to the forefront everything they had discussed in the command room, and a wave of gratitude flooded him. He wanted to reach out and grip the walls of the jet to steady himself, but that would betray him. He dug his heels into the floor and waited for her to finish exploring the information.
An unspoken question lingered in his mind, a trace of doubt. Why are you helping me? At first, he didn’t know, but his thoughts drifted back to the days he spent outside her door, hand poised to knock yet never doing so. He had wanted to connect for so long, and now the opportunity was right there. Mia sensed that flicker of emotion, and for a moment, she nearly withdrew from the comforting space that felt like home. Logan felt her presence more strongly now, and his chest swelled with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. But those weren’t his feelings—they belonged to the woman who moved through his mind as if she were part of it.
When the connection broke, their eyes met briefly. Logan stood in his corner of the ship, watching silently. No words were exchanged.
“Mia, this is for your own good. You haven’t been yourself lately…” Scott began.
“I have everything I need, Scott,” she replied coldly, not bothering to elaborate.
“What the hell…?” he started to say, but his gaze shifted to Logan, who was watching her with renewed intensity. Feeling Cyclops’ stare, he held it and shrugged with a hint of a smile.
“Leave her be, Summers. Looks like we’ve got a pilot.”
Without wasting another moment, Mia powered up the engines. The deep roar of the jet filled the hangar, and the control panel lights began to flicker on. She was ready for takeoff.
“Buckle up, everyone. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.” She couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. She felt in control at last.
The flight was swift, and before they could brace themselves mentally, the landscape beneath the jet began to change. They were heading toward a base created by a group of unstable mutants fleeing their pursuers. The team had been sent to intercept them before the government or Magneto could reach them.
As the jet approached the landing zone, Scott broke the silence. “We’ll split up to cover more ground. Jean and Ororo, you go south. Logan and I will take the front. Mia, stay in the jet until we’ve secured the area.”
“Are we partners now, Summers?” Logan scoffed.
“Seriously?” Mia replied with a sarcastic tone, barely glancing away from the controls, her irritation evident. “You’re leaving me out?”
Scott didn’t hide his frustration. “We need someone in the jet in case things go south. Besides, someone has to monitor everything from here.”
Mia pressed her lips together, feeling anger simmering in her chest. For weeks, she had been trying to control her powers, that dark side pulsing within her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Now, with Scott treating her like a rookie, her rage grew faster than she could contain.
“I’m not a child, Scott. I don’t need you to protect me.” She shot him a look loaded with frustration. “I’m here to help, just like you.”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, okay?”
She opened her mouth to argue, ready to unleash a torrent of retorts, but instead, she smiled broadly. “Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say.”
The jet fell into a tense silence once everyone else left. Mia sat in the cockpit, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the controls, trying not to let the irritation bubbling inside her take over. Scott had relegated her to a mere spectator, as if she couldn’t handle a mission. A part of her knew he had a point, given her recent struggles with control, but another part—the stronger, more frustrated side—refused to accept that.
“Staying in the jet? Ridiculous,” she thought, grinding her teeth. “I could be helping, not just sitting here doing nothing.”
She huffed, running her hands through her hair as she watched the radar tracking her teammates moving across the map. For the first few minutes, everything seemed normal. Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Logan were making steady progress. After a while, two points—Scott’s and Logan’s—went still. She waited and tried to reach out to them, but there was no response.
Mia frowned, typing away at the jet’s console, trying to gather more information. Jean and Ororo continued on, but something felt off with the other two. Her suspicion sharpened. Scott and Logan were still, not moving an inch.
“This isn’t right…” she muttered to herself, her frown deepening.
Before long, concern took hold. She wasn’t going to wait any longer. Her fingers danced over the controls, adjusting the navigation system to track her teammates' signal. If something had happened, she wasn’t about to sit idly by.
Wandering through the forest, she stumbled upon a scene that left her stunned. The two mutants were seated under a tree, chained to it, each facing a different direction. Both looked unconscious.
Who the hell could do something like this?
“What do we have here? Come to see me, gorgeous?”
Mia closed her eyes, wishing it wasn’t real. When she turned, she faced one of her worst nightmares—not because he was a great foe.
“Juggernaut!” she feigned a wide grin as if genuinely pleased to see him. “What a coincidence, is this your hiking route too?”
“Always so funny, doll. It was your sense of humor that drew me in at first. Then, of course, your ass,” he replied.
“Stop, you’re going to make me blush. What about you? New haircut?” Mia gestured to the helmet covering his massive head, likely blocking her from entering his mind.
“Like it? I designed it just for you. No more mind games.”
Mia smiled again. “It looks great.”
“And what? Here to save your little friends, Mia? I still don’t get what you see in that one-eyed loser. With me, you’d have a real mutant on your side.”
“I have a soft spot for lost causes, darling.”
Just then, Scott began to regain consciousness, followed by Logan. Both tried to sit up, still dazed. Juggernaut sneered at them before turning back to Mia.
“You might want to reconsider Magneto’s offer. We could be on the same team.”
“Magneto wants me at his side?” Mia let the irony drip from her words. “How flattering. But tell me, Juggernaut, what fun would it be if we didn’t meet like this?”
Mia sensed her teammates shaking off their grogginess and decided to distract the mutant while they got free.
“I’m just saying, all that saving humanity stuff can wear anyone out. We’d be unstoppable.”
“And we’d end up with some freakishly confusing kids.”
For a moment, Juggernaut’s mind drifted to the possibility Mia suggested, and she realized she didn’t need her powers to bewilder him.
Logan and Scott had freed themselves from their chains and now stood defensively, flanking her.
“Can you tell me how you got caught by this idiot?” she asked through clenched teeth, keeping her eyes on the mutant, who now regarded them as if he wanted to charge them all at once.
“He’s a damn animal. I scratched him with my claws, and Cyclops here didn’t have time to use his visor before he got knocked out cold.”
“I was trying to keep him away from the other mutants,” Scott shot back.
“I couldn’t care less about that. This guy’s a moron, and we need to take him down.”
“Any ideas, bub?”
Mía’s mind raced as she searched for a solution. That’s when a dormant part of her began to stir, tugging at the chains she had placed to hold it back. If only she could harness her electricity the way she did when she lost control… Talking directly to that inner self felt almost insane.
“f I set you free, will you promise not to wreck everything in your path?
Silence followed, interrupted only by a subtle nudge from deep within.
If you lose control and things go wrong, more people will get hurt. Scott…
The beast inside her seemed to yawn lazily, as if that fact didn’t faze it at all.
Logan…
She felt a surge of tension at the thought of him, and that part of her twisted restlessly. Taking it as a yes, she summoned forth her darker side. The air crackled with electricity, an imperceptible hum coursing through her. Logan looked at her with curiosity, recognizing a spark in her eyes—the same one he had seen the night she fell into the lake, and again when she kissed him in her room.
“If you think you stand a chance against me, you clearly don’t know me yet, sweetheart.”
Mía grinned widely, sending a shiver down Scott’s spine.
“Tell me, big guy, how does that pretty helmet of yours hold up against a little electricity?”
He didn’t respond; he was puzzled by the girl’s words. But when he caught her smile, he couldn’t help but grin back.
“Kitty,” she whispered, using that nickname she knew irked him. “Do you trust me?”
For a brief moment, Logan hesitated, caught off guard by both the nickname and the situation. But then he nodded. His instincts told him that even if he didn’t fully grasp Mia’s plan, he needed to play along.
Scott watched the exchange, bewildered, unable to decipher what was happening between them. The implicit trust Logan showed toward Mia unsettled him deeply.
She stepped closer to Logan, her gaze locked onto him for a moment before swinging back to Juggernaut, whose arrogant grin remained firmly in place.
“Let me see those claws,” she commanded Logan, offering no further explanation.
Juggernaut laughed, brimming with his usual overconfidence.
“Do you really think those toothpicks are going to do anything to me? You won’t even scratch me with that.”
“Now”
Logan wasted no time. With a low growl, he lunged at Juggernaut, who, believing his helmet and strength were impenetrable, didn’t even flinch. What he didn’t realize was that Mía was waiting for this moment.
As Logan’s claws sank into Juggernaut, Mía unleashed just a fraction of her inner beast, enough to envelop Logan’s claws in a controlled electric surge, carefully preventing any current from hitting his own body. The air around them buzzed as the energy surged into Juggernaut’s frame. It sought an exit, but Mía directed it through his body and into his head, concentrating it there. The helmet acted like a bunker, trapping the electricity in the mutant's brain until he collapsed to the ground, convulsing violently from the shock coursing through his system.
Logan straightened up quickly, claws still extended, looking at Mía with disbelief.
“You had that under control, right?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.
Mía, with a mischievous grin still plastered on her face, shot him a nonchalant look.
“The truth… I wasn’t sure. I was trying something new.”
Logan stared at her, unsure whether to be angry or amused. He rubbed his face, clearly relieved that the plan had worked but still surprised by how Mía had handled everything.
Scott, watching from a distance, stepped forward, still unsure how to react. He knew Mía had saved the day, but the way she did it—and her evident connection with Logan—gnawed at him.
“You were trying something new?” he echoed, his voice sharp. “Do you even realize what you just did, Mía? You could have… lost control.”
She met his gaze without an immediate reply, her eyes still shimmering with the residual electricity she had released. She sensed Scott’s anger wasn’t just about how she defeated Juggernaut; it was laced with concern and a profound sense of helplessness. But at that moment, she felt a wave of satisfaction for having harnessed the very power that had tormented her in recent days.
“I had it under control,” she shrugged. “For the first time in weeks, I managed the situation.”
Logan, still observing from his spot, felt happiness radiating from her, and for a moment, he didn’t want anything to diminish that feeling.
“Chill out, Summers,” Logan said, stepping between them, his tone deep and calm yet tinged with mockery. “The girl did good. Juggernaut’s out, right? Isn’t that what we wanted?”
Scott turned to Logan, his gaze icy, almost disdainful.
“This isn’t a game, Logan,” he retorted. “It’s not about who takes down whom. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated by the implication.
“And you do?” he shot back, stepping closer, the tension between them palpable.
Mía watched in silence, her eyes darting between the two. The atmosphere crackled with tension, and while her instincts urged her to intervene, a part of her wanted to see how far the confrontation would go.
“Enough, both of you,” she finally interjected, stepping forward with a firm tone. “I’m not some damn ball for you to fight over.”
Logan and Scott stopped, both looking at her, surprised by the strength of her words.
“Scott, I get that you’re worried, but I don’t need you hovering over me at every turn. And Logan…” She turned to him, her expression softening slightly, but still firm. “You don’t have to defend me. I can take care of myself.”
Logan gritted his teeth but nodded, crossing his arms in resignation. Scott, looking confused, seemed unsure how to handle the situation. Finally, he broke the silence.
“It’s not just about the fight, Mía,” he said, his tone quieter, almost defeated. “It’s about you. You haven’t been the same for weeks. I don’t know how to reach you. I don’t even know if you want me to try.”
“This isn’t the time or place for this conversation, Scott. You know that.”
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken feelings and decisions yet to be made. Logan watched them both, feeling the weight of the moment, but unsure how to intervene.
Finally, Mía turned away from Scott and headed for the jet.
“Let’s go,” she said, her voice resolute. “We need to move.”
Both men followed her in silence. When they reached the jet, Storm and Jean were already there, ushering in a visibly shaken group of mutants. The tension in the air was palpable, and Mía sensed it was charged not just with the electricity she controlled, but with the latent fear of those they had come to help.
Jean frowned slightly as she noticed Mía approaching with Scott and Logan. She didn’t say anything, but her expression was enough to tell Mía something was off. Storm, meanwhile, seemed more focused on maintaining calm among the new mutants, her gaze fixed on the sky as if trying to control something beyond their immediate surroundings.
“We had a hard time convincing them to board,” Jean finally broke the silence. “They think we’re here to trap them, not help.”
Mía nodded slowly, her mind already shifting into operational mode. Scott boarded the jet first, beginning to prepare for takeoff, while Logan helped the mutants, who still cast wary glances at everyone around them.
“Any sign of Magneto?” Mía asked, approaching Storm, who was watching her with a scrutinizing look.
“Not yet, but Jean has detected something… strange. Energies we can’t fully identify.” Storm’s tone was serious, though her gaze softened slightly. “We should move quickly. I don’t want to risk staying here longer than necessary.”
Mía agreed. With each passing second, she felt a mounting pressure in her chest, as if something was about to break free, both outside and within her. The electricity she had unleashed against Juggernaut kept her alert, like a wild power inside her waiting for another opportunity to erupt.
One by one, the mutants boarded, some still trembling, others casting wary glances, but all clearly exhausted from fear and uncertainty. Once everyone was on board, Mía headed for the cockpit. She knew Scott was upset and that Logan was monitoring her every move, but there was no time to deal with that now.
“How soon can we get out of here?” Jean asked, approaching the cockpit with her arms crossed. She had been mentally calming the new mutants throughout the journey, and Mía could see the weariness etched on her face.
“We’re ready,” Mía replied, firing up the engines. “We just need to take off.”
“Do it,” Scott commanded from his seat.
Without another word, Mía initiated the jet's launch. The roar of the engines filled the air as the craft began to lift off the ground. As they flew, she could feel Scott’s and Logan’s gazes on her, but she chose to ignore them, focusing on what lay ahead.
29 notes
·
View notes
Instinct (Part 2)
Summary: Elrond is restless, and cannot shake the unease that plagues his mind. Suddenly, his gift of foresight shows him a vision of his adopted son Estel in trouble. It will take all of his fatherly instincts to patiently wait for news of Estel's wellbeing, having sent Elladan and Elrohir straight into the face of danger.
Word count: 2.2k
Pairing: Elrond & Estel, Elrond & Elladan and Elrohir.
Warnings: Generous amounts of canon-typical violence, including graphic descriptions of blood, injury, and loss of consciousness. Angst including self-doubt and anxiety. Mention of death.
AO3 Link: Instinct
Author's note: Here it is! Part 2 of the fic I created for @elrondweek with the prompts "Family and Love". Originally this was going to be 2 parts, but it looks like there will be a Part 3! 😅 I feel like I'm turning up the dial on the whump and angst in this part, so please heed the warnings. Enjoy!
......................
"Tracks."
Elladan paused to look at the section of ground where Elrohir was pointing, crouching low to get a better view of the imprints left in the dried mud. The tracks were not fresh, but neither were they old, and the size and shape provided little doubt as to who had made them.
"Definitely orcs," noted Elladan quietly with a frown, his distaste for the foul creatures evident in his tone. He swept a few fallen leaves away from the area with his hand to further examine the tracks, only to see an additional shape that was unlike the rest. "And human." He glanced up to exchange a knowing look with Elrohir.
Estel.
The brothers did not have to converse any further to confirm they were on the right path. Ever since their father had reluctantly revealed his vision, the twins had been determined to locate their brother and bring him home. Both Elladan and Elrohir hated seeing their father worry incessantly for his youngest son. They were even more determined to cut down and destroy the orcs; the foul creatures would soon know it had been a grave mistake to launch an assault against the house of Elrond.
It was a mistake they would never forgive. Not after what had happened to their beloved mother. They would track these beasts down and cut them limb from limb.
And they were close.
---
Ragged gasping was the first thing Aragorn heard as he began to come round from his unconscious state. His lungs drew in hungry breaths as if searching for oxygen in the air around him. His eyelids were too heavy to lift, and a high pitched ringing blasted in his ears. Valar, everything hurt. He slowly became aware that he was sitting on the cold earth, albeit slumped sideways against the trunk of a large tree; the surface of the bark touching his cheek was coarse and rough, and the scent of sap passed through his nostrils with each gasp he took.
Breathing was far more difficult than he remembered.
No sooner had this thought wandered through his mind, his senses encountered a further onslaught of pain. White hot burning radiated through his entire body, causing him to groan weakly. Dizziness made his head spin and he kept his eyes firmly shut, for if he opened them he would surely see the world gyrating. The ranger's mind flickered between the experienced healer in himself, inwardly trying to examine every inch of his being for the source of the agony, and the injured patient who wanted nothing more than to surrender to the pain and slip into oblivion. His next breath caused him to descend into a coughing fit, and he desperately clutched his side in an attempt to lessen the torment.
As he began to regain control and steady his breathing, Aragorn idly wondered how it was he found himself here and in this state. He had been travelling alone, that much he remembered. He had departed through the gates of Rivendell over a fortnight ago, but at present he was unable to recall the purpose of leaving his father's halls. Flashes of his journey came through now; picking his way through the wilds, the first signs of winter beginning to show. Crossing small streams edged with ice, brushing past foliage crisp with frost. His breath rising like smoke in the frigid morning air. Staying off the road. The landscape around him empty and peaceful.
Until the orcs had appeared.
The village under attack. The citizens defenceless. The filthy orc with its filthy hands around his neck, choking him, air unable to reach his lungs...
Remembering these events was enough to drive his eyes open with panic. His hand automatically went to his closest weapon: a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He willed the ringing in his ears to abate as he listened for any unusual sounds. True to his instincts, unnatural crashes through forest undergrowth could be heard, and they were far too close for comfort.
"That filthy whelp is around here somewhere, find him!" the harsh command was barked out by one of the orc leaders, it's voice carrying through the trees. Aragorn's panic rose. He had to move, and move fast.
It took all his strength to rise to his feet. His hand shook as he gripped the tree, willing the black spots that clouded his vision to recede. The sound of orcs on the move was growing louder by the second. He had only taken a few paces forwards when pain flared to the right of his navel, causing him to inhale sharply and reach for his side. His palm came away warm and wet with his own blood; he made a mental note to check the wound properly when he was clear of danger. For now, applying pressure and getting himself to safety was the best he could do.
Aragorn half walked, half ran falteringly through the trees, trying his best to stick behind shrubs and undergrowth to avoid being seen. He was thankful for his ranger's cloak which blended him into the landscape, his hood obscuring his human features, but at present it was his only defence. He was in no position to outrun these beasts, and without knowing how many remained he was hesitant to draw his sword and fight. He could hide, but his scent would not be hidden for long and they would surely track him down with ease. His threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting how the assailants were edging closer on his location. The orcs were tightening the noose.
Not far away to his right, the land dipped away down a steep embankment to a river. He hesitated for a moment before switching direction, having concluded that it was his only option. In his haste, his feet slipped out from beneath him on the muddy riverbank, causing him to land less than gracefully into the shallows of the perishing water. His pain flared angrily with the fall, and he silently prayed to the Valar that the orcs had not overheard neither the splash nor his cry of suffering. The sounds of the orcs nearby thundered louder than ever. His heart raced in his chest and his lungs heaved as he looked up and down the river, searching for options.
In that moment, Aragorn caught sight of a large log wedged in rocks on the opposite bank. Foliage still decorated the branches, and it was big enough to serve as a hiding place, but he knew the orcs would still be able to follow his scent. Now desperate to evade the enemy, he mustered some of his waning strength to scoop handfuls of wet mud and dirt from the water's edge, running it through his hair and over his face. As he smeared the muck across his neck and shoulders, the biting sting of another open wound made itself known and he remembered the arrow he had ripped from his flesh. He winced. Covering an open wound with mud would probably do him no favours later, but the alternative of being caught would be infinitely worse. He piled more mud on his limbs and down his side where the larger wound was still weeping fresh blood. The smell of the filth was enough to set his stomach on edge, yet this gave him the reassurance that his true scent would be masked.
With some difficulty, he pushed himself to his feet, and clutching the wound at his side he waded across the sweeping current towards the trapped log. The water, which came up to his waist in places, was biting cold and left goosebumps on his skin. Once he reached the rocks, he wasted no time concealing himself within the twisted boughs, sinking into the water up to his neck and using the leaf-lined branches as his disguise. The chill of the water took his breath away, and he had to clench his jaw shut to stop his teeth chattering.
He had concealed himself just in time. From his hiding place, Aragorn watched as an orc appeared from the tree line at the top of the embankment. The monster looked around carefully, sniffing the air for any trace of the human and stepping down to the water's edge. The ranger silently cursed himself for not obscuring the footprints he had left behind in the mud.
A second orc appeared on the ridge, calling down to the first in black speech and sending further chills across the hidden man's skin. Aragorn did not need to understand the creature's foul utterances to know they were still looking for him. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. Both orcs were now looking at the mud beneath their feet and exchanging grunts. They might be slow-minded, but not completely stupid, and they would soon work out that Aragorn had entered the water.
A third, larger orc then appeared on the scene, his weapon and armour marking him out as a leader. He saw his two subordinates apparently loitering by the water and cursed them. "Get back to hunting, scum! If that human's flesh isn't roasting on my campfire tonight, it will be yours instead!"
Aragorn exhaled in relief as the orcs dissipated back into the trees. With the immediate danger gone, his adrenaline was quickly replaced by physical suffering once more. His head ached and he felt weary; he did not need to be an expert healer to know that blood loss from the untreated lacerations was the likely cause. Not yet ready to abandon his safe space, he rose from the water and dangled his arms and chest over a sturdy bough, letting his limbs float in the swift current. A shiver of cold coursed through his body. He would leave the water in a minute, he just needed a quick rest, and this feeling of weightlessness was a welcome reprieve. His head came down to settle against the bark of the log. Just a moment to rest. His mind felt foggy, coherent thoughts evaporating. Just a minute. His eyelids closed. Rest.
---
Elrond paced his study. Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. No matter how many times he traversed the soft rugs or glanced across at the open window, his entire being remained restless.
Just over a week had passed since he had seen Estel in a vision of foresight. Since then, Elrond had barely eaten, had taken no rest, and had done little else other than roam the various rooms and hallways of Imladris. As the days crept by, he could no longer pretend that his worries and woes were not devouring him from the inside. Renowned for being as kind as summer, Elrond's temperament had changed, becoming as chilled and cold as a midwinter's night. He had always treated all of his household staff with respect, regardless of length of service or rank. Yet now he had become irritable, snapping at those who brought him meals when he had no desire to eat, or brought him steaming cups of tea instead of news of his sons.
The sons he had willingly sent into the mouth of danger.
In the immediate aftermath of the vision, Elladan and Elrohir had insisted their father to tell them what he had seen. Elrond had granted their request, albeit reluctantly; the scenes he had gleaned through foresight were not ones he wished to relive again, nor implant into the minds of his family. However, both Elladan and Elrohir were well aware of their father's gift and how it occasionally appeared without his will or consent.
They were also well aware of how the visions appeared clearest when the subject was near death.
"Estel will be alright, father," Elladan had reassured his father as the brothers readied for their departure in the stables. Elrohir nodded in Elrond's direction as he tossed the saddle over his horse and began to tightly secure the fastenings.
Elrond's brow creased as he brought his hand to the bridge of his nose. "Arathorn suffered greatly at the hands of orcs; I worry the same fate has befallen Estel," he said quietly.
Elladan looked over his shoulder to see several of the household staff approaching, their arms laden with weapons. The twin's blades had been sharpened at the forge, and their quivers restocked by the arrowsmiths. He took his own equipment and quickly loaded it to his steed.
Elrohir crossed the stable to collect his sword, and place his hand on his father's shoulder. "We will find him, Ada. No matter what it takes."
Elrond shook his head in the face of his eldest son. "I should have done more. I should have kept him here where he was safe, away from--"
"What does your instinct tell you?"
The lord of Imladris was temporarily taken aback by his son's question. He placed a trembling hand on his chest, touching his collarbone, as he searched his thoughts. Somewhere, deep down, he knew his youngest son was not lost. Not yet. Regardless of the horrors his foresight had shown him, his instinct as a father told him they had not won out. Estel was alive, he could feel it.
Elrond blinked as the recollection of his final conversation with his eldest sons slid away, returning his study to the forefront of his sight. The sentiment he felt down in the stables of his son's wellbeing clung to him like a shadow as he continued to pace the room. Yet it was not enough to fully dissipate his concerns; he would not be content until Estel walked through the gates of Imladris, until he could hold him in his arms once more.
He said a silent prayer to the Valar that his instinct was right.
21 notes
·
View notes