The door flew open and slammed against the wooden wall. "What's going on?"
After hearing the screams, Elrohir had ran to Dís' house. He was about to go inside, but froze as he saw he growling warg who stood between Dís and him. The dwarf woman sat on her knees, sobbing. Her youngest son sat beside her, his face pale, the other stood next to the warg and stared at the floor.
Elrohir reached behind his shoulder, but he hadn't taken his quiver with him. He never needed one in Imladris.
"Is that your warg, Fíli?" Elrohir didn't look away from the beast. Was he imagining things or did it bend its legs, ready to attack him?
The boy looked up. With numb eyes, he stared past Elladan. "Morn belongs to no one but himself."
"Can you leave the room with him, so I can walk over to your mom?"
"Morn won't hurt you."
A shiver crept down his spine as he heard the boy's cold voice. Something was wrong with that kid. Yet, he turned his attention to Dís. Tears were shining on her cheeks and he wondered if there had been a single week in which he hadn't see her cry since she lived among the elves. The pain she had to bear was too much for one person.
Elrohir pulled himself together and walked past the dwarf. He caught himself holding his breath as he passed the warg, but the beast didn't move. Suddenly his eye caught something that was lying on the floor. A finger. There's a finger lying on the floor.
Elrohir pressed his wrist to his mouth to keep himself from vomiting. Suddenly he felt feverish hot. "What... What's going on?" He didn't even hear his own words. He looked at Dís. Her lips were moving, but her words didn't reach him.
Elrohir leaned against the wall. The warg was taken away and his father had entered the room with three other elves. Dís was still sitting on the floor. Elrohir knew he should go to her, but he couldn't move. He didn't know why he was upset about a finger. His intestines seemed to be frozen, his stomach hurt. It felt like his subconscious understood the message of this finger and tried to protect his brain against the horrible truth.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he watched his father kneel next to the finger to pick it up. He studied it. All color was drained from his face. Suddenly, Elrohir was close to crying. His eyes were itching, something disgusting was growing inside his throat, taking his breath away. In his long life, his father had seen so many things that this could only mean one thing. Elrond touched the ring on his finger and heaved a deep sigh. Tears shone in his eyes as he turned to Elrohir.
"It's Elladan's, is it?" Elrohir was surprised about his own question, which had left his lips before he fully realized it.
"Yes." His father stepped towards him and showed him the finger.
Disgusted, he wanted to turn his head away, wondering why on Earth his father was doing this. Then, he saw the symbol carved into it. It was a question mark.
"They want Vilya."
Elrohir stared at the golden ring with the sapphire in the middle, which adorned his father's hand for as long as he could remember. "Who wants it?"
Elrond stared at the place where the warg had been. "Evil."