The snow swirled, biting their eyelashes and making it hard to see. The twins squinted, clinging to the reins of their horses as the animals pressed forward into the evil wind, taking slow step after slow step up the steep crags of the Misty Mountains.

Elladan's teeth chattered, and his hands felt numb. The ground directly beneath his mount's hooves was a mere dim shadow, and he hoped the horse would not stumble off the edge of a cliff in the blinding blizzard. His twin was a shadow to his left, hunched over on his horse, shivering as much as Elladan.

The storm had worsened after they had left Rivendell, turning from a shower of snow to a thick, whirling blizzard. Elladan took hope in it despite the cold, hoping it would cover their tracks and prevent their father or the Rivendell trackers led by Glorfindel from finding them.

They could not go back now, no matter how hard the journey became.

The elflings lost all sense of time. The snow hid any signs of darkness from their sight, a white mass all around them. Only the drooping of their heavy eyelids hinted many hours had passed since they had left the meager shelter of the mountain cave and set out into the storm.

Elladan could not speak for the wind stole his voice. The snow scratched at his face, and blew freezing handfuls of the powdery substance under his cloak and down his neck, no matter how tightly he wrapped the folds.

The horses stumbled and lurched. Elladan blinked as the snow disappeared. His horse sank to its knees in the deep crevice in the rock and snorted, steam rolling from its nostrils.

Elladan fell to the ground, to numb from cold to control his stiff limbs. He lay in the cold; glad the whirling snow was gone. He grew warm without the winds leeching the warmth from his body, and crawled to his hands and knees.

"Elrohir?" he croaked coughing. "Brother?"

"Here," Elrohir whispered, his voice hoarse. The twins met between their two horses and collapsed in a trembling hug.

"I am frightened," Elrohir murmured. "I do not know how much longer I can do this for. How many days have we traveled?"

Elladan shrugged. "I stopped counting after five."

Elrohir shivered. "So cold . . ."

"There is not a branch to burn," Elladan replied. "And, even if there were, the blizzard would not allow us to find it."

"It must be the middle of the night," Elrohir mumbled.

"It is hard to tell; I cannot see the stars."

Elladan shook the snow out of his clothes, his brow dipping in worry at the shivers wracking his twin's body. Elrohir trembled against him, clinging to him for his warmth. The past days had not been easy for Elrohir, and he needed warmth.

Elladan pushed his twin back against one of the loyal horses and untied the bows and quivers of arrows from their fastenings. The bows were made of strong wood, as were the arrows, and both would burn. He held his bow, looking down at it for the last time, before he snapped it across his knee. Elrohir's ears pricked up.

"We might need them," he protested weakly. "What if wolves come?"

"We both need fire more then we need the bows," Elladan answered, pulling his twin closer to the blaze as he lit the arrow shafts with flint and steel. "In this blizzard, we will not run into any danger."

"But goblins," Elrohir murmured, hunching near the flames.

"We will stay and rest a few hours," Elladan said. "But because of the goblins, we must cross the mountain in the blizzard, when orcs and goblins will be in their caves. If we are not on the other side by the time the storm ends, we will be in danger."

Elrohir looked up at him, the blueness in his lips fought back by the fire. He saw the weariness in Elladan's eyes and knew his twin was as weary as he.

"I am sorry I am making it so hard for you," he said.

Elladan tossed the thicker limbs from the broken bows onto the blaze. He patted Elrohir's hand. "We are brothers, Elrohir. We look after each other, no apologies given. We will make it to Mirkwood."

"We have to," Elrohir said, his eyes staring at the fire without seeing it. "We cannot return to father. He and naneth will be enraged, and we will be punished . . . I would rather die out here then return to Rivendell. Mirkwood is the only place we will be safe." His voice craved the word.

Elladan stabbed an arrow through two chunks of meat, and set it over the fire. As it roasted, the smell awakened every hungry part of his sore body. He licked his lips and waited for it to cook. He and Elrohir tore at the meat, shredding and wolfing it down as soon as it was cooked.

Elladan lay down by the fire as soon as he swallowed the last bite and said, "Sleep. You will need all the sleep you can get. We will leave in an hour."

Elrohir came to snuggle against him, sharing his body heat. "You are so much stronger then me . . ."

"No," said Elladan. "I am not. You are stronger inside then me, Elrohir. You have lived through torments I could not have born."

Elrohir shuddered, knowing Elladan meant the exorcism.

"I betrayed you when I lied to ada and naneth and said I believed their ways of discipline were right," Elladan said. "I was frightened at the thought of the exorcism. But after I saw how it changed you, Elrohir, I cursed myself for my actions; for lying. This is my way of making it up to you."

Elrohir nodded his tired head, his eyes dropping shut. "I do understand, Elladan. But I could not have lived through it without you there. You were there for me when I needed you . . ."

"Always," Elladan answered. "Always . . ."

That is what brothers are for, after all.

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