The Snake's Kiss

Chapter 1

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Part 1
Battle of Alliance
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A Stranger in Rivendell
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Evening had settled over Rivendell, the skies painted in shades of amber and violet as Elladan moved silently through the forested borders on patrol. The world around him was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. That peace shattered when he heard it - a clumsy crash of footsteps in the underbrush, heavy and unsteady.

Elladan's instincts sharpened. With a fluid motion, he unsheathed his sword, his body blending seamlessly into the shadows of the trees. He followed the sound, his steps light and purposeful, until he reached the river's edge.

There, slumped against a mossy rock, was a figure.

Elladan tensed, assessing the man before him. His first impression was of someone utterly out of place in Rivendell. The stranger's dark hair was a tangled mess, plastered to his sweat-drenched face. His clothes, a haphazard collection of worn fabrics, were caked in grime and blood. His hands trembled as they clutched at a wound in his side, crimson seeping between his fingers and staining the earth beneath him.

But it was his eyes that caught Elladan's attention - sharp, guarded, and flickering with a wariness that went beyond mere pain. There was no mistaking the exhaustion in his expression, but beneath it lay something else: defiance.

Elladan stepped forward, and the sword held steady. "Who are you?" His voice was calm but firm, a command more than a question.

The man's head jerked up at the sound, and for a moment, he froze. Then, to Elladan's surprise, he smirked a quick, lopsided grin that didn't reach his eyes. "A dying man," he said, his tone flippant despite the blood pooling at his feet. "Do you ask everyone for their name, or am I just lucky tonight?"

Elladan didn't lower his weapon, his gaze narrowing at the stranger's cavalier attitude. "You are trespassing on Elven lands, and you are bleeding. That does not make you lucky."

The man laughed softly, though the sound was strained. "Fair enough." He shifted, and the motion drew Elladan's attention to the dagger at his hip, partially concealed beneath his tattered cloak.

Elladan stiffened. "I suggest you don't move again unless you want your luck to run out."

The stranger sighed, leaning back against the rock with deliberate slowness. "Relax, mellon. If I wanted to fight, I wouldn't be lying here like a gutted deer."

Elladan ignored the jest. "You're injured. Come with me."

The man's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of something else-hesitation, maybe even fear. "You're offering help to a stranger?"

Elladan tilted his head, studying him. The man was wary, his words laced with deflection. His sharp features and pointed ears marked him as one of the Eldar, but there was an undeniable roughness to him. He didn't belong in Rivendell-or any noble hall, for that matter.

"You need a healer," Elladan replied, his tone softening slightly. "Whatever you've done, you won't last long without aid."

The man's jaw clenched, his gaze darting toward the river as if calculating his chances of escape. But his strength was failing; Elladan could see the faint tremor in his hands, the way his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. Finally, he let out a slow exhale.

"I don't trust you," the man muttered, more to himself than to Elladan.

"You don't have to," Elladan said simply.

The stranger hesitated a moment longer, then gave a slight nod. "Fine. But don't think I'll thank you for it."

Elladan sheathed his sword and stepped forward to help him, but the man flinched, his hand darting to the hilt of his dagger. "Not so fast," he warned, his voice sharp despite his condition.

Elladan froze, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Do you intend to stab the only person willing to save your life?"

The man stared at him for a moment, his knuckles white around the dagger's hilt. Then, with a low growl, he released it. "Just don't touch me more than you have to."

Elladan didn't reply, instead moving carefully to support the stranger as they began the slow trek back to Rivendell. Despite the man's earlier resistance, he leaned heavily against Elladan, his strength waning with every step.

"Where are you from?" Elladan asked after a while, his curiosity getting the better of him.

The man's lips quirked into another faint smile. "Nowhere you'd care about."

"You seem well-practiced at evading questions," Elladan remarked.

The stranger chuckled, though the sound was weak. "And you seem well practised at ignoring danger. Maybe we're both fools."

As they neared the gates of Rivendell, Elladan couldn't help but notice the way the man's eyes flicked nervously toward the lights of the Elven halls. He seemed more on edge now than he had in the woods, his movements stiff and deliberate.

Elladan glanced down at him, his earlier suspicions stirring again. There was something off about this man - something he couldn't quite place. His posture, his words, even the way he carried his weapons spoke of a past steeped in shadow. And then there was the faint glimpse of a mark beneath the tattered sleeve of his tunic - a dark, jagged design that looked almost like...

Elladan pushed the thought aside. For now, the man was injured and in need of help. Whatever secrets he carried would have to wait.

As they passed through the gates, the stranger let out a soft sigh, though it sounded more like resignation than relief.

"Doesn't matter what you think you're saving," he muttered under his breath. "Some things aren't worth the effort."

Elladan frowned but said nothing, guiding the man toward the healing halls. He couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was only the beginning of something far more complicated - and far more dangerous - than he could yet understand.