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Title: The Littlest Warrior (#4501)
Author: Ravenswing
Chapters: 61

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: Summary: Saruman has created an evil power that feeds on the life force of its victims, leaving behind a withered lifeless shell. His purpose is to find Isildur's heir and rid Sauron of his biggest threat. The entity's true form can be "sensed" by those who possess true innocence, animals, the very young and the truly ancient. Can this threat to Estel be stopped? Or will the hope of mankind be lost to the darkness?
Published: 19 Aug 2014
Updated: 19 Feb 2015
Warnings: Violence
Type: Suspense
Characters: Estel; Haldir; Elrond


Chapter 1 - Vegetables Are not My Friends

The Littlest Warrior

Author: RavensWing

Copyright © RavensWing Enterprises Inc., 2002 – 2009. 2010 All rights reserved

Summary: Saruman has created an evil power that feeds on the life force of its victims, leaving behind a withered lifeless shell. His purpose is to find Isildur’s heir and rid Sauron of his biggest threat. The entity’s true form can be “sensed” by those who possess true innocence, animals, the very young and the truly ancient. Can this threat to Estel be stopped? Or will the hope of mankind be lost to the darkness?

Genre: AU

Disclaimer: I make no profit from my efforts and with the exception of my original characters and plotlines, the rest belongs to the Tolkien Estate, I don’t make a dime from this story it’s just for fun, so don’t sue me because I don’t have any and you won’t get any, Smooches!

OC’s: There are lots of OC’s, but don’t worry, they won’t all be thrown at you at one time. You’ll get to know some of them well, others just in passing. But since it’s important to distinguish what is yours and what is Tolkien’s, here they are:


Barandir, Berach, Beregnas, Braneth, Brithil, Canúmion, Celebros, Cilinwë, Círfin, Colwandë, Daenir, Ecthíras, Elwaith, Fael, Filbor, Findol, Filgail, Gaer-âr, Gaer-sûl, Geleph, Golros, Gundars, Gwaenir, Hedrían, Hendil, Heson, Hírómë, Ianthir, Illarion, Imril, Indórië, Ingorn, Ivalor, Laelas, Lethros, Maeraen, Malrin, Menwen, Mindor, Moldórë, Nénilya, Nínas, Olmarth, Panír, Pengûr, Perwaen, Rilloth, Sereth, Silmo, Sûl-linnon, Swiftwing, Tárion, Thorodir, Timagol, Udalin, Vindil, and the Timmons family; Henry, Gideon, Marcus, Greta and Miriam.

Acknowledgements: The concept of Estel’s ‘Sunshine Blankey’ has been graciously loaned to me by Ithil-Valon, I promise to return it cleaned, folded, and carrying just a little more love. And last but not least to my friend, TPDLady a.k.a. SiriusBlackFan2, thank you for your invaluable insight into the minds of little ones.


The morning mist drifted slowly over the grounds of Imladris, the rays of Anor were barely visible over the eastern horizon, and a pair of silver gray eyes were trying to open, still fighting off the grasp of a peaceful dream filled sleep. Estel Elrondion yawned and stretched his almost four-year-old frame to its full length. Blinking sleepily the small boy rolled over onto his tummy and buried his little face into a down-filled pillow. He lay there for a moment, eyes closed, trying to go back to sleep; and then he remembered. “The horsey!” Today was the day his best friend had promised to let him ride his horse. Estel quickly scooched up onto all fours and threw off his blankets. Crawling to the edge of the bed, he eased himself down to the floor; no easy task for one so short who slept in a bed so high. Taking a hasty look out his balcony doors, he could just see the sun’s rays beginning to peek over the tops of the trees. The child jumped up and down clapping his hands in delight; it was indeed morning, and now he could claim his prize. The promise had been made the night before at the dinner table, as Estel sat pouting in front of a plate, which seemed to him to be over filled with vegetables.


“But I no want any more Ada!” He said stubbornly. Elrond, though usually inclined to let the little one have his way, was determined that this was not a battle that was going to be lost.

“Estel, you have been leaving your vegetables on your plate every night. As much as I know you would like to subsist on sliced fruit and sweet cakes, you cannot. You need to eat your vegetables so that you will be healthy, so that you can grow as tall as your brothers, do you not wish to be as tall as your brothers some day?”

Estel pondered this for a moment, true, he adored his brothers; and wanted to be just like them, but the thought of consuming so much as another mouthful of cabbage to accomplish that feat was not even remotely enticing.

”I already a big boy,” he declared in broken Elvish, “even Or’findel said so…right Glorfy?” he said turning to his idol for support.

“Glorfy tells me alllll the time, I a big boy, I no need nasty cabbage. Tell Ada Glorfy, tell Ada I a big boy!”

Elrond’s right eyebrow almost disappeared into his hairline as he turned to address the Balrog slayer. “Yes Glorfy, by all means, please ‘tell’ me,” he stated, his agitation still carefully concealed from Estel. The look that passed between the twins clearly indicated that they were overwhelmingly glad they were not in their tutor’s highly polished boots at this moment.

“Estel” Glorfindel pleaded, “Your Ada is right, it is very important that you eat all your vegetables…you want to be a warrior some day, do you not? That means that you will have to train very hard and have all your strength…and that can only happen if you eat all your vegetables…like all the other warriors, besides cook went to a lot of trouble to make a lovely meal for all of us, you would not wish to hurt her feelings by sending your plate back to the kitchens untouched would you?”

Estel’s pout continued, he was not convinced…and said as much.

“El’dan didin eat all his vegetables and he is a warrior,” he thought about it for a second more and then added, “Roh too,” motioning with his head in the direction of the younger twin.

Elrohir tried to help Glorfindel out of the hole he was digging for himself by adding his admonition…

“But we will, will we not ‘Dan?”

“Yes,” Elladan piped in quickly, “we just have not finished yet, as a matter of fact, Roh, please pass me the cabbage, I have a heavy training session tomorrow with sword master Cilinwë, I must keep my strength up if I do not want him to best me again.”

Estel looked on intently as Elladan took another portion of the detestable green mixture from the salver, and eyed both brothers warily as they proceeded to empty their plates.

“There now…,” Glorfindel continued, “see, both your brothers are cleaning their plates, I am sure that Master Cilinwë will not stand a chance against you tomorrow Elladan. Now, what about you Estel? Are you going to be a strong warrior too, and finish your dinner?”

Estel was unmoved by the display of solidarity, he wasn’t quite four, but he was smart enough to know when he was being led down a path he didn’t wish to take, He sat stone-faced, glaring at the ever-cooling plate of greenery in front of him. Though small, Estel was not without weapons of his own, and proceeded to avail himself of his arsenal’s best. Tears. The long lashed big silver eyes brimmed with unshed tears and the pout had begun to look like a permanent fixture on his face.

“Estel…,” Elrond admonished, a warning glint in his eye, “it will do you no good to try those tears on me this eve.”

“Come on little brother,” Elrohir cut in, “it is not so bad…cook added plenty of spices to it this time, it is actually quite good,” he said as he moved another forkful to his lips.

Estel lowered his head, lip extended as far as his face would allow, and mounted his attack. With his little fists rubbing at his eyes and the silent cry of defeat trying to escape his lips, the waterworks began. The sight was quite undoing for Elrond; he wanted the child to comply, but not at the cost of frustrated tears, and Estel was indeed frustrated. Elrond had raised enough children in his time, both his own, and those of others, to know when a little one felt bullied and cornered…and he didn’t want Estel to feel as if he did not have a say in something as simple as his meals. The great elf Lord was just about to capitulate, when he was once again saved by the quick thinking of his Commander-of-Arms.

“Oh dear,” Glorfindel muttered softly, “whatever will I tell Asfaloth?” he hung his head despairingly, while surreptitiously peeking at Estel from the corner of his eye.

“He will be ever so disappointed. I promised him that I would let a new warrior ride him tomorrow. I had hoped it would be you Estel, but I cannot allow someone who has not eaten his vegetables to ride him…he would not have the strength to control him…now I will have to break my promise and Asfaloth will be very upset with me.”

“Glor-fin-del…you-will-spoil-him,” came Erestor’s whispered singsong warning, but it was too late; at the sound of Asfaloth’s name Estel’s silent crying came to an immediate halt.

“Affaloff?” The child questioned tearily.

“Yes,” Glorfindel continued, “he was sooo looking forward to trying another rider tomorrow…he gets tired of me from time to time…complains that I do not know how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun Glorfy.”

“Oh yes, I know you do Estel, that is why I suggested it to Asfaloth…that you ride him tomorrow I mean…he is going to be very disappointed, and I fear… very upset with me.”

This time it was Estel who came undone. The mere thought of Asfaloth being angry with Glorfindel was inconceivable to him. Why the two were almost like Elladan and Elrohir, inseparable like brothers…except that Asfaloth slept in the stables, of course. The idea that he would be the cause of a quarrel between the two was unthinkable.

“Affaloff was gonna let me ride em?” the child asked incredulously; after all, clarification was necessary in situations like this…one could never be too careful when dealing with grown-ups.

Glorfindel gave a fleeting thought to the white lie he was about to tell and decided it was worth it if it got the child back on track, so he continued with his version of the truth. “Oh yes…he was quite looking forward to it actually.”

Estel sat quietly for a moment, taking in this new information…then just as abruptly he turned to his father, pushing his plate across the table and said…

“Ada…I no want Affaloff to be mad…could you make this warm for me?”

“Of course ion nín,” he said as he tried to hold back the smile that threatened to erupt over his otherwise dignified countenance. “I would be happy too.” Elrond raised his hand to summon one of the servers to take Estel’s plate, and was unceremoniously interrupted by the little tyke.

“No Ada…” Estel admonished, “you said you would do it, I want you to do it Ada…cook makes it too hot.”

The elf Lord was taken aback by the insistence of the smallest Elrondion and gave him an assessing glance. Finding no petulance in Estel’s objection, he slowly pushed his chair back from the table and reached for Estel’s plate.

“You did agree to do it Ada,” Elrohir chimed in, trying to keep a straight face while hiding the smirk that was building on his lips.

“So I did…so I did,” the elf Lord said calmly. Though he spoke softly, he fairly glared at Elrohir, almost daring him to say so much as one - more - word. The look passed over to Elladan, silencing him just as he was set to make a comment. They had seen that look before, and knew all too well that another jest at their father’s expense was probably not a good idea. Tonight’s dinner had been difficult enough; Elrond did not need the twins compounding it by egging Estel on. As Elrond took the plate from Estel he watched in wonder as his littlest son turned to Glorfindel and graced him with a silly grin.

“I be a warrior…just like you Glorfy,” then proudly, puffing out his little chest towards his brothers he announced, as if it was the biggest accomplishment in Arda, “I gonna ride Affaloff… nobody rides Affaloff but Or’findel…and me!”

His brothers exchanged knowing smiles and congratulated the little one on accomplishing such a coup. It was not every day that someone other than Glorfindel got to sit the powerful white stallion. In fact, no one other than Glorfindel ever rode the powerful beast…Asfaloth, loyal to a fault, simply would not allow it. The twins wondered now, how the Balrog slayer would get the horse to acquiesce; “Yes,” they thought, this would be very interesting indeed.

Their heads turned as their father returned to the table carrying Estel’s warmed up cabbage.

“T’sank you, Ada.”

“You are welcome ion nín, I expect you to...” but before Elrond could finish his sentence Estel virtually assaulted the plate of greens. With his spoon in one hand and using the fingers of the other, he stuffed his mouth with as much cabbage as it would hold. The sight of the child with his cheeks puffed out like those of a chipmunk brought giggles, and out and out laughter from those seated at the table.

“Estel!” Elrond exclaimed, “Not so much at one time son, the cabbage will not run away from you, take smaller bites ion nín or you will choke yourself.”

“Yes.” Erestor added, “If you eat too quickly you will give yourself the hiccups tithen pen, (little one) and where are your table manners? We practiced, remember? We do not eat with our fingers.”

Estel lowered his head and looked apologetically at his tutor; there was something about the dark-eyed Noldo that made Estel always strive to please him.

“I sorry ‘Westor, I forgot, no fingas.” Estel promptly placed the cabbage in his spoon back on his plate, took his fingers from his mouth and not seeing his napkin, wiped his hand across the front of his already food-soiled tunic. Erestor rolled his eyes skyward and mouthed a small prayer to the Valar.

“See,” Estel held up his ‘supposedly’ clean fingers for Erestor’s approval.

“Very good tithen pen.”

“Ima good boy, right ‘Westor?”

“Yes, tithen meleth nín, (my little love) you are a very good boy…but next time we will use our napkin all right?”

Estel vigorously nodded his agreement, “An I will not wrap you any more…m’kay?”

Erestor’s cheeks blushed furiously, and he quickly tried to change the subject, unfortunately his flush did not go unnoticed by Glorfindel, and the golden warrior was quick to inquire.

“What do you mean Estel, how do you ‘Wrap’ Erestor?”

Estel was all grins and giggles, “’Westor says I wrap him on my fingas,” he said holding the somewhat clean hand up for display, wiggling his pinky finger in the air, still trying for himself to figure out what Erestor meant. “But I do not ‘member doin’ it…but ‘Westor says I do an he cannot work when I do…so I should not do it…right ‘Westor?”

Seeing the counselor’s obvious embarrassment, the commander pressed on…

“So…Estel, tell us little one…what happens when you ‘wrap’ Erestor?”

Estel ducked his head shyly, and tried to hide his toothy grin with both little hands, then he raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders in a bid to illustrate.

“No more lessons,” he said cheerily, “den me an ‘Westor go outside…in da garden.”

“Ahh…and pray, tell us ion nín, what do you do in the garden?” Elrond asked conspiratorially.

“We play tag, ’Westor is the best tag player in all ‘ladris…right ‘Westor?”

Erestor calmly cleared his throat, and attempted to reclaim his dignity.

“What? he asked haughtily, “as if he has not gotten any of you to play tag with him, humnp!”

The image of the always dignified, and sometimes standoffish Erestor playing tag with a three-year-old was more than Glorfindel could handle, and he found himself doubled over in the throes of laughter. Even the sedate and serious Elrond found he could not keep the smile from his face.

“Tag? Erestor plays tag with you in the garden?”

“Yeth Ada…and sometimes he sings!”

“Sings…?” quipped Glorfindel, eyes wide with amazement, “oh this is just too good to be true,” he said nearly laughing himself off his seat.

“Mm-hum, sometimes I get sweepy, an ‘Westor sings to me.”

“Really now?” chimed in Elladan.

“Mm-hum, an when I don wanna go my room ‘Westor lets me throw all his pillows on the floor and have my nap in his room.”

“Well now,” Elrond continued, “that is very nice of Erestor, and did you thank him for singing to you?”

Estel thought for a moment, and then wiggled down off his chair and ran as quickly as his short little legs would take him around to the other side of the table. Grabbing Erestor by his sleeve he pulled the counselor down to his level and threw his chubby little arms around the counselor’s neck. Giving Erestor a mighty hug he kissed the counselor on his cheek saying…

“T’sank you ‘Westor, for singing to me…I like your songs.”

So touched was he by the child’s unabashed affection the staid counselor almost broke into tears right then and there, but managed to hold his composure as he squeezed the little one back.

“You are most welcome Melyanna, (dear gift) most welcome.”

Estel scrambled back to his seat and took up his spoon once again. “See Glorfy,” he said “Ima eat allll my cabbage.” The little one tried to eat without spilling or stuffing, and finally succeeded in emptying his plate. By the time he’d finished; the table, the floor, the chair he was seated on (and the one next to him) were fairly coated with cabbage, and or its accompanying liquid. His mouth was ringed with cabbage juice, his hands were wet and sticky, his tunic was filthy, and from where Elrond sat he detected at least two pieces of the offending vegetable in the child’s hair. Still, Estel managed to get a goodly portion of it inside, and upon completing his task – gave those seated at the table a toothy grin and held up his plate for Glorfindel’s inspection.

“See Glorfy…all gone.”

”Well Done Estel!” Glorfindel fairly beamed at the child, and winking at his ‘vegetable co-conspirators’ he remarked, “Asfaloth will be most pleased. Thank you Estel…I must say I was not looking forward to facing Asfaloth with a broken promise…he can be…somewhat cranky when disappointed.”

Estel sat there beaming, he had saved Glorfindel from having to face an angry, cranky Asfaloth—and he could not have been prouder of himself.

“You welcome Glorfy,” the child giggled. Elrond had to admit it had been an ingenious piece of motivating. He was not sure how Glorfindel was going to get Asfaloth to go along with it; but that was Glorfindel’s problem. He had promised Estel a ride and the elf Lord now gave his friend a look that said, “You better make good on this.” Rising from the table he stretched out his hand and called Estel to him.

“Come along son, we had better get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”

“Do I hafta go to bed nowww Ada?” Estel whined.

“Not right away…I may let you stay up for a bit to hear some of the songs this eve in the Hall of Fire—but after that you must go straight away to bed—with no argument, understand? After all…you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow—you have lessons with Master Erestor, story time with Lore Master Canúmion, you must take your nap on time…with no fussing—and then, and only then you may go with Lord Glorfindel to the stables for your ride. Understood?”

Estel nodded vigorously, “Mm’kay Ada.. I be good…I pwamice.”

“That is ‘promise’ Estel…’promise’, the Elf Lord corrected.

“Das what I said Ada…pwamice!”

Elrond could only shake his head and smile. He would have to remember to speak to Erestor about correcting Estel’s speech patterns more often. While trying to master both Elvish and Westron he was failing to enunciate either language properly and it was causing him to develop a lisp.

Estel bounced up and down on his toes eager, for a change, to get to his bath so that he could get to the Hall of Fire. Grabbing his foster father’s hand he tugged insistently and all but dragged Elrond from the dining room.

“Come on Ada… I hafta do my bubbles so I can hear da songs.”

“All right ion nín , I am coming.” Turning slowly he glanced at Glorfindel and made eye contact

“Glorfindel….you will hold to your word and come for Estel tomorrow after his nap, correct?”

“Yes my Lord…as soon as he awakes.”

“Very well then…I will see all of you later in the Hall. Come Estel, let us see if we cannot—divest—you of some of your…dinner.”

“Whas di—di—”

“Divest?”

“Yeth, that—whas that Ada?”

“I will explain it on the way to your room little one…come.”

Taking the child’s hand Elrond smiled down at his boy…so curious—so full of life—so filled with promise and hope. His name truly reflected who he was and whom he would one day become—the hope of all.


Chapter 2 - Preparations to Ride

Chapter 2 –Preparations to Ride



Estel struggled to open the bottom drawer of his chiffonier (chest of drawers). Elrond had agreed that he should have access to his clothes so that he could at least attempt to dress himself on occasion, and had placed his every day under things, leggings, and tunics in the bottom two drawers so that the tyke could get to them on his own. Although the drawers were low enough, they were still somewhat heavy and Estel often had to use all his little strength and ingenuity to pull them open. The very bottom drawer was particularly stubborn and Estel often had to sit on the floor, placing his little feet on the bottom skirt of the chest as leverage, and with his fingers curled around the ornate carvings on the edge of the draw, pull as hard as he could muster to get the sometimes-sticking drawer open. It was times like this when he was really glad that his brothers were close by. They could always be depended upon to give a little fella a hand. But this morning his brothers were still asleep, and Estel was in a hurry; no time to wake Dan or Ro…Asfaloth was waiting.

After several minutes of tugging, he managed to get the drawer open just a crack; but a crack was all he needed. Slipping his tiny hand through the opening, he pulled out a pair of brown leggings and a light colored tunic. Hurriedly he pulled on the leggings, despairing of both his chausses and his braies and not bothering with the fact that the lacings were in the back. The breeches did not want to stay up, and for the life of him Estel could not figure out why. Determined that he would not be delayed any further by sagging breeches, he bundled up the edges of the nightshirt he was still wearing and stuffed them into the waistband. Mission accomplished. The extra fabric had the effect of making his tiny body seem bigger and the leggings stayed in place. But that created a new problem for him, if he left the nightshirt on he could not wear his tunic, and he knew his Ada would never allow him to go out half-dressed. Estel solved this minor inconvenience by deciding to wear the tunic as if it were a long sleeved vest, open in the front.

Grabbing the tunic from the bed he carefully positioned it on the floor, on its back with the arms spread to the side, just as Dan had shown him. He kneeled down and carefully smoothed it out making sure all the fastenings were undone and the front lay open. Once satisfied that everything was just as his brother had demonstrated, he carefully circled the tunic and approached it from the ‘collared’ edge. Carefully, so as not to mess it up, Estel bent over and placed his hands in the armholes, collar touching his feet and the back hem of the tunic near his head. Wiggling his hands into the armholes he then stood up raising his hands over his head, and the tunic slid down over his arms smooth as silk.

It worked! Estel fairly jumped with enthusiasm. It was his first time doing this on his own. Before, Dan had always arranged the tunic for him; he would have to remember to show his brother what he had done all by himself later. He tried fastening the tunic and it was just as he thought, it would not fasten near his waist, not with all that nightshirt bunched up under it.

'No matter,' the tiny boy thought, 'I just do dis one', and he proceeded to fasten one of the clasps near his chest.

Unfortunately, he did not line them up properly, and wound up with tab number three attached to clasp number 2 leaving a very uneven hemline.

“Almost done,” the little one said, “just havta find my moccasins.”

The first one was easily located near the edge of the bed, but the second one was more elusive. Estel searched and searched and eventually found it almost dead center under the middle of his bed, he had to crawl under to get it. When he emerged, he was fairly covered in dust, but that did not matter, he was almost dressed. Sitting on the floor, he pulled on his moccasins and jumped up racing for the door. He stopped halfway there, “Oh, almost forgot,” he said aloud, and dashed back to his bed. Using the side bedrail as a step stool he climbed atop the bed and searched through his covers until he found what he was looking for. There, under the covers he could just make out the tip of the tattered off-white ear of his favorite stuffed animal, his bunny Niphredil.

“Come on Nif, nows no time to be s’eepin, we goin’ riding with Glorfy.” With that the little one eased off the bed and raced to and thru the door, heading, at 5:30 in the morning, straight for the bedchamber of the Balrog slayer.


Chapter 3 - Unexpected Guests

Chapter 3 – Unexpected Guests

Glorfindel groggily rolled over onto his stomach, his arm falling, draped over the form of his companion and lover for many centuries…Erestor. Erestor snuggled closer, his raven hair fanning out behind him over the pillow as he reached to pull Glorfindel nearer. The two elves so deeply settled in their reverie never heard the little knock on Glorfindel’s door.

Estel knocked for the second time on his hero’s door. Again he received no response. Wondering what to do next, he began to think of all the things that his brother’s, Ada, and Erestor had taught him not to do when coming to someone else’s chamber.

“Ada said I must always knock on a door ‘fore I go in”, I did dat. Westor said I must always wait for someone to say somethin’ ‘fore I go in, I did dat too. But Dan and Roh always just knock and go right in…soooo…it must be all right,” he said nodding enthusiastically, "‘sides Glorfy will not mind, he pwamiced me.”

Estel stood on his tiptoes with Nif tucked securely under one arm and reached for the latch on Glorfindel’s door. Stretching as far as he could, he still could not quite reach it. Unlike his door, where the latch had been purposely placed lower, Glorfindel’s door latch was just out of his reach. But Estel was not to be denied; Asfaloth awaited, and he was determined to get to Glorfindel. Scanning the corridor Estel looked for something…anything he could use to reach the latch.

The hallways of Imladris were almost as elegantly appointed as the rooms. The highly polished quarry stone floors were covered with expensive floor runners and rugs. The walls were lined with extravagant tapestries, and elaborate multi-tiered candle stands were softly glowing in the dim light of early morn. Heavy trestle tables rested against the walls at varying intervals, and delicate hand painted pottery graced their tops. Positioned here and there were life-sized statues of important historic figures, and vases, heavy with the flowers of Imladris’ many gardens, adorned pedestals designed specifically for them.

To the right, when one faced Glorfindel’s door, sat one of the many heavy ornately carved wooden chairs that graced the home, and to the right of that, one of the heavy trestle tables. At first Estel thought that he could stand on the chair and reach the latch, but alas it was too far to the right. All he needed was something that would give him three more little inches…if he could just find a way to move the chair over a bit he would be able to reach the latch. Placing Nif on the seat of the chair Estel tried gamely to pull the chair into place, but no luck, it was just too heavy. Moving around to the other side, between the chair and the table, he thought that perhaps he might be able to push it over, but again the heavy chair would not budge. Estel sat on the floor pouting; he had tried everything and still could not get to the latch. He sat there sulking for a moment then reached up to the seat grabbing Nif, and tried to console himself.

“Nif, I have tried evathin’…I cannot reach the latch”, he said forlornly to the tattered old rabbit, “if the El’s were here dey would open it for me…or at least lift me so I could reach it.”

He whispered despairingly into Nif’s floppy ears, “Evathin’ is too high…or too heavy…and I am too liddle.” He sat there, momentarily frustrated with his predicament, and then his little temper flared…

“I am not too liddle!” he declared emphatically. “Ima big boy and I am gonna ride Affaloff!”

Pouting, he pondered his situation and again sought counsel with ‘Nif the Wise’ as to his options.

“What should I do Nif? Dere is no one around to help me, if I just had someone to lift me up I could pull the latch myself.” The rabbit stared back at him sympathetically, and seemed to understand his dilemma.

“You would help me if you were bigger…right Nif? Right. I wish you could lift me up Nif, ‘den I could get inside and…, NIF you can lift me!” Jumping up from his spot on the floor Estel kissed Nif on the top of his head and carefully folded the bunny in half. Placing him just beside Glorfindel’s door he stood on the doubled over bunny and…Yes! His fingers just reached the latch.

“Hold on Nif…I can almost get it…”

Inside the room Erestor stirred from his sleep. Turning over beneath Glorfindel’s heavy arm to lie on his stomach, his head snapped up as if it had been jerked by some unseen source. The early dawn light was just beginning to filter into the room, and he closed his eyes against it knowing that he would soon have to wake completely and start his day. Faint noises from the corridor had awakened him, but knowing it was still too early for the household staff to be about; he attributed the sounds to one of the occasional field mice that would enter the home, and reminded himself to instruct the staff to place more traps in the appropriate places. Allowing his head to drop back to the pillow he snuggled closer to Glorfindel and fell immediately back to sleep.

Estel’s tiny fingers just managed to reach the lever; with a little hop up he looped them over and pulled the latch down, releasing the lock on the heavy door.

“Got it Nif!” Stepping off his bunny he quickly shook him out and brushed him off.

“T’sank you Nif, you are the best friend anybody could ever have,” he said kissing the bunny’s head again. Nif just seem to smile back at him; content that he had helped. Once again tucking the rabbit under his arm Estel slowly pushed the heavy door open just a crack. Peering into the dimly lit room he could just make out the end of Glorfindel’s huge canopy bed and one very large bare foot hanging haphazardly off the edge. He slipped inside the room and quietly pushed the door closed. From Estel’s level everything seemed to tower over him. His eyes gradually became accustomed to the light as he peeked around the table and chairs that were positioned near the door to the chamber. Padding his way quickly and quietly across the space, he reached the side of the bed and stood peering into Glorfindel’s half-lidded eyes. Touching him gently on the arm he whispered…

“Glorfy?” Gently shaking the warrior he repeated himself a little louder, "Glorfy?” Glorfindel softly snored on, but Erestor’s head came up like a shot. Gazing around the dimly lit room with sleep filled eyes; he could just see what looked like something furry at the side of the bed. Leaning over Glorfindel’s back to get a better look, he was astonished to see two long-lashed big silver eyes and Estel’s curly little head.

“Estel?” he questioned sleepily.

“Mornin’ ‘Westor,” Estel piped cheerily.

Erestor answered drowsily, “Estel…what are you doing here sweetling? Is something wrong?”

Fairly bouncing up and down with excitement Estel answered, “I go ridin’ wit’ Glorfy today ‘Westor…don’ you ‘member?”

Glancing out the balcony doors Erestor guessed that it was somewhere close to dawn. He fell face first into his pillow and mumbled to no one who could hear…“Glorfindel…when you awake, I am going to kill you.”

“Wha’ did you say ‘Westor?”

“Nothing sweetling…nothing at all, come, climb up here, and let us have a talk.”

Estel threw Nif up onto the bed and again, using the side rail clambered up and over Glorfindel to sit at Erestor’s side. Glorfindel stirred only briefly, and settled right back into snoring.

“Now,” Erestor said softly…"let us have a look at you.” “What is all this you have on little one, did you get dressed by yourself?”

Estel nodded enthusiastically, “Umhumm…I got dressed all by myself…and…and I got my tunic on all by myself see?”

“Yes sweetling I see…but, what is this?” Erestor gently tugged on the waistband of Estel’s leggings.

“My nightshirt…”

“Why do you have your nightshirt on little one?”

“iss helpin…”

“Helping what sweetling?”

Estel looked at Erestor as if he should already know the answer to that question, then sighed and placing his little fists on his hips stated with a huff…

“helpin’ keep my breeches up ‘Westor, dey woo’nt stay.”

Erestor tried to stifle a laugh, “Sssshhhh, little one you will wake Glorfindel.”

Estel rolled his eyes to the ceiling and gave Erestor his best exasperated look, “Dat’s what I wanna do ‘Westor…Glorfy has to get up now, we goin’ ridin’.”

Erestor turned his head and hid his smile behind his hair, he could tell that Estel was quite serious and he did not want to make light of the little one’s plans by laughing at him, but the time had come to set Estel straight.

"Estel…do you not remember what your Ada said to you last eve?”

Estel looked at Erestor puzzled; searching his memory he finally gave up and answered…

“Ada said lots of t’ings ‘Westor…which one?”

Erestor took a deep breath and settled his gaze on Estel, “Estel do you not remember your Ada telling you that you had to have your lessons with me, go to story time with Lore Master Canúmion, take your nap on time…and then, and only then you could go with Glorfindel for your ride…do you not remember that little one?”

Estel began to pout and looked up shyly at Erestor as he began twisting his little fingers in the bed covers.

“Do you not remember?” Erestor prompted.

“Umhum.”

“And as you can see little one it is barely dawn, and you have not done any of the things you promised your Ada you would do today.”

The boy’s big silver eyes filled with tears, "But I wanna take my ride,” he said as they began to roll down his face. Erestor gently caressed the child’s cheek and tilted his chin up so that he could look into the boy’s eyes…

“Do not cry tithen meleth nín, you will get to go on your ride today…Glorfindel will not disappoint you.”

Estel leaned into Erestor hugging him close and burying his face in his nightshirt. The counselor wrapped his arms around the child, gently rocking him, and began to softly hum his favorite lullaby.

“It is all right little one…here let me help you get out of these clothes…we will go back to sleep, and when we wake we will break our fast with a big meal, and then you and I will get started on your lessons, all right?”

Estel nodded, then stood on the bed, and allowed Erestor to help him out of his outer clothes. Once the child was finally attired only in his nightshirt Erestor reached toward the foot of the bed and retrieved Niphredil. Handing the bunny to Estel he settled the little one under the covers between himself and Glorfindel.

“Comfy?”

“Yeth”

“That is ‘Yes’, Estel…Yes,” Erestor corrected.

“Das what I said ‘Westor.”

The doting counselor just smiled and kissed the top of the boy’s curly head. “Settle down now Estel, try to go back to sleep.”

Estel snuggled down under the covers closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Pulling Nif closer to his chest he turned over facing Erestor. Timidly he reached out and tugged gently on his tutor’s nightshirt. The counselor opened his eyes fully and softly asked…

“What is it pen neth? Do you need to go to the privy?”

“No”

“Then what is wrong little one?”

“I need my blankey.”

“Your sunshine blankey?”

“Umhum.”

Erestor drew in a breath and started to get out of the bed. As his feet were about to hit the floor he heard Glorfindel snort in his sleep. A smile drew across the astute counsel’s face as inspiration hit him. Instead of getting up, he returned to the bed and snuggled down deep under the covers pulling Estel with him. Whispering softly to the boy he told him what to do, and then pulled the covers up over his own head feigning sleep. Estel giggled and rolled over onto Glorfindel’s back. Climbing up on the Balrog slayer he took his rabbit and began to tickle Glorfindel’s ear.

“Glooorfy,” he whispered. Glorfindel batted at his ear as if swatting away an annoying insect. “Glooorfy,” again no verbal response. Erestor reached over and nudged Estel under the covers

”Go on,” he whispered.

Estel finally took control of the situation and pounced up and down on the back of the Balrog slayer.

“Glorfy! Glorfy! Glorfy!”

“What!? What?” Glorfindel called out to no one he could see, his head arching up off of the pillow as the little voice over his shoulder finally drew his attention.

“Glorfy…I need my blankey.”

“Your sunshine blankey?” Glorfindel asked disoriented.

“Umhum.”

The golden warrior threw back the covers and gradually rose from the bed. Fumbling in the near dark for his house shoes he slipped one on, unable to find the other. Pulling his robe by its hem from the foot of the bed, he staggered groggily toward the door dragging the robe behind him. Shifting his tussled hair out of his face, he was half way to the entry before he realized from whom he was taking directions. As cognizance finally claimed him he stopped and slowly turned in his tracks to see Erestor and Estel sitting in the middle of the bed trying to smother their laughter and their grinning faces with their hands. Little by little Glorfindel stood straight, bringing himself up to his full and considerable height. Shaking his finger at them, and giving Erestor a look that said, “You will pay for this later,” he blearily continued out the door to retrieve Estel’s precious yellow cloth.


Chapter 4 - White Wizards and Betrayal

Chapter 4 - White Wizards and Betrayal

Buried deep in the forests at the foot of the Misty Mountains stood the fortress of Isengard, home of the White Wizard Saruman. Yes, fortress, for that is what it was, a fortress gifted to Saruman by Steward Beren of Gondor for his help in overthrowing their enemies. Supposedly a place of learning and knowledge, a place where wizards and healers alike came to learn and teach; it was slowly becoming a place of questionable repute.

For many years the evil of the dark lord Sauron had spread, infecting everything it touched like some primeval all-encompassing pestilence. The land was the first to show the ill effects, for wherever Sauron’s interest lingered, nothing of beauty grew. The trees were next. The mighty and beautiful Greenwood the Great; ancient, and wise, its spirit was more difficult to corrupt, to control and infect; but eventually even it began to succumb. Slowly but steadily the evil spread, like a cognizant cancerous sore upon the earth. To the outside world, Saruman was thought to be a compassionate patron, the Wizard who came to the aid of those in need. A friend to Rohan and Gondor, compatriot and benefactor to the elves and the folk of the Shire, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Secretly, covertly, deep in the bowels of Isengard, away from knowing eyes, Saruman plied his trade.

Potions, poisons, and spells of all manner were practiced in his darkened abode, and it was rumored that the roads near Isengard were no longer safe to travel. Stories abounded that there were things more foul than Orcs to be found behind the gates of the Wizard’s tower. Strangers, tradesmen, and passersby became more wary, more cautious – better to go the long way ‘round than to fall victim to the evil that seemed to permeate the very air that sat so still around the Wizard’s domain.

And if someone went missing – the disappearance was usually credited to the distance between realms, just another wayward soul lost on the roads who would eventually turn up – somewhere. If too much time passed then the blame was laid on the growing activity of Orcs or Trolls or other foul beasts.

And so these tales remained just rumors, rumors spread by men, who were known for both their ignorance and their superstition. These were things that were not to be believed, for such things could not possibly be true of a White Wizard, one so closely aligned with the Maia and the Valar. Those who knew Saruman, or thought they did, were not wont to believe in such tales. Saruman had always been their friend, or at least it had seemed so.

But Saruman was besotted with the concept of power. Power, all-encompassing, all-consuming. He craved it, lived it, breathed it. The promise of it was more than even he, a Wizard, could withstand; and so he fell. Deeper and deeper into darkness, into evil, and no power on Arda could prevent it.

By day he continued the charade, teaching those who came seeking enlightenment; surreptitiously assessing those he thought to use, to pull down into the depths of despair beside him. Friend and stranger alike could be turned, loyalties mattered not. To share power with Sauron was everything, and he would see that promise fulfilled at any cost.

And so it was that Saruman came to this day, slowly pacing ‘round – admiring his handiwork, his latest and most devious creation. Fair of face and form with gold flecked eyes, tall and strong, and evil to the very core of its being. Beautiful, yet like all evil, flawed. It could sustain itself only by taking the life of another, purloining the strength, the life force. And as beautiful as it was, its evil could still be divined by the truly innocent, the trees, and the animals; and by the smallest among us – the children. This thing – for there was little else to call it, had the ability to take from one all that was good with a mere touch of its hand – leaving behind only a withered, dry, shell of skin and hair – a soul stealer, and his target; should he find it, was the heir of Isildur.

And so it was, that in time, Saruman unleashed his evil creation upon Arda - and nothing and no one was safe.


Chapter 5 - Lost and then Found

Chapter 5 – Lost and Then Found

As morning finally dawned over Imladris, its Lord stretched and opened his deep gray eyes to a new day, an insistent knocking on the door to his chambers, and the agitated voices of his twin sons.

“Adar!” called Elrohir through the door, and his call was immediately echoed by his elder brother.

“Adar,” repeated Elladan as he burst through the door, pushing past his brother without further knocking, “Adar, Estel is missing!”

“We searched everywhere Adar, he is not in his room and we cannot find him anywhere in the house,” called Elrohir over his brother’s shoulder.

Elrond threw back the covers and rose from the bed reaching for his robe as he did.

“Calm down sons, are you sure Estel is not in his room? He has a new game now you know…he likes to hide from me in the mornings…make me search for him before he gets washed up for the morning meal.”

“We are positive Adar, we searched the room high and low, and he is not there.”

Elrond pulled his robe around himself and headed for the door, “Come with me,” he said over his shoulder as he exited and set off to Estel’s room. As he reached the room, he signaled the twins to quiet, shushing them with a finger to his lips. Gingerly he placed his ear against the door and listened for any sounds that might come from within. Hearing nothing, he quietly pushed it open, and quickly scanned the room.

“Estel…come out now son, you have worried your brothers quite enough for one morning…come on now…it was a fine game, and you won, but now it is time for us to get ready for our day. Estel? Estel!”

“Now do you believe us Adar? Estel would never ignore you if you called him,” Elrohir said worriedly.

“Aye, and you know how much he loves the morning meal…he would never hide and miss it,” chided Elladan.

Elrond stood quietly; taking stock of the situation, then turned and gave the twins his instructions.

“Alert the servants…I want every room of this house searched…thoroughly…I do not care what they are doing or how important it might be…nothing is more important than finding your brother. Elladan, go down to the stables, check with stable master Colwandë – Estel was very excited about Asfaloth last eve, find out if Colwandë has seen any trace of him this morning. Elrohir, go and awaken Glorfindel and Erestor, have Glorfindel check with the sentries, maybe one of them saw him outside this morning, and send Erestor to me. He is very close with Erestor, perhaps he knows of places where Estel likes to play that we do not, hurry I do not want to lose any more time, we must find him now!”

“Find who Ada?” piped a little voice from the doorway.

The three elves turned and spoke almost simultaneously, “Estel!”

Elrond rushed forward and swept the little one, his rabbit, and his yellow blanket up into his arms, “By the Valar Estel…where have you been? We have been worried sick about you, where were you little one?”

“I believe I can answer that question for you my Lord,” said Erestor from the doorway. “Estel arose somewhat ‘early’ this morning and came to Glorfindel’s and my chambers…he…ahh…”

“Speak up Erestor,” Elrond said irritably, “what is going on here, we were half out of our minds with worry…are you saying Estel was with you this morning?”

“Yes my Lord, I am sorry we did not alert you sooner to his whereabouts, but we thought you were still asleep…we were just coming to let you know that he spent the night…well at least part of it, with Glorfindel and me.”

Estel looked at Elrond with big apologetic eyes, his right arm wrapped around Elrond’s neck, his hand holding on tightly to Nif. With his left hand, he took the corner of his blankey and rubbed his father’s cheek, and shaking his little head said “Don be mad at ‘Westor Ada…I had a good time. ’Westor and Glorfy let me sleep in their big bed…and then me an ‘Westor played a trick on Glorfy an then…”

Elrond listened carefully as Estel outlined every detail of his time with Erestor and Glorfindel. As frightened as he had been, he found himself hard pressed to sustain his anger as he watched the smile spread across Estel’s face as he recounted his big adventure. The more Estel talked the more relaxed Elrond became, and the more he thanked the Valar for this wonderful gift he’d been given.

As Estel continued to tell his tale, his brothers made themselves comfortable on his bed. Elrond sat down in the rocking chair with Estel in his lap, and gave the child his full attention. Erestor tried to slip quietly from the room to give them their privacy, but Estel caught him and reminded him…

“Don’ forget ‘Westor we have to have our big breakfast…but first I have to get Ada and my gwedeir dressed and evathin’…a’right?”

Erestor, like Elrond could hardly contain his smile, but answered the little one as seriously as he could.

“All right tithen meleth nín, I will not forget…I will save a place for you at table, join me as soon as you are dressed…and as soon as you have…attended to your charges,” he said with a smirk, then turned and closed the door behind him.

An exuberant Estel scooted down from Elrond’s lap and began to demonstrate how he managed to get Glorfindel’s door open. As the child showed his father how he enlisted the help of his friend Niphredil to gain entry into the room, Elrohir quietly studied Elladan.

The older twin sat leaning back against the headboard of the boy’s bed lovingly watching Estel’s antics. The child had been with them almost two years, his fourth birthday would be upon them in a matter of weeks; but already he had stolen their hearts; and the hearts of just about everyone else he met.

Elrohir could see how his brother struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Gently he placed his hand on Elladan’s thigh, rubbing it slightly and gaining his attention. No words were needed; he could see the relief spread across his brother’s countenance. Estel was safe. Safe in his own room and showing the world just how capable he could be, if he needed to be. Elladan secretly prayed that he never lost this innocence, this joy for everything new and unlearned. He prayed that he would always be as independent and sure of himself as he was at this moment…showing the world how he got that tunic on…all by himself.


Chapter 6 - The Breakfast of Champions

Chapter 6 - The Breakfast of Champions - “I gonna be a warrior”



The bell for morning meal had rung some time ago, and most everyone had made their way to the huge dining hall. Trays and platters filled with fresh baked bread, sliced fruit and cheese were making their way to the various tables carried by a small army of servers. Pitchers of fresh squeezed juices and trays of cold sliced chicken were also brought to the tables, as bowls of soft-boiled eggs were uncovered along with grapes and various berries. As those gathered began to seat themselves a slight murmur of concern was voiced by some in the room. Eyes were slowly drawn to the head table, where was the family? Where was their Lord? As always, Erestor took charge, quelling all undo concern, telling everyone that Lord Elrond would be “a little late this morn,” and they should all just go ahead and get started with their meal.



As he spoke, a small group of latecomers was entering the hall. Glorfindel, full of laughter and good cheer as ever, led the way into the room followed closely by Ecthíras and Gwaenir, two of the overnight sentries for the front gate; along with Maeraen the Smith, and Cilinwë, Elrond’s friend for almost an age, the quiet and unflappable Sword Master of Imladris, Captain of Elrond’s personal guard. The five were just about to take their seats at one of the front tables next to Elrond’s, when an uncontrollable, bouncing bundle of energy broke free from his father’s hand and came bounding into the room.



“Linwë!” Estel squealed.



A smile bloomed across the face of the staid, reserved Sword Master as Estel propelled himself across the room and lovingly wrapped himself around Cilinwë’s knees.



The warrior scooped Estel up, and much to the child’s delight, dangled him in the air high over head.



“Good morn to you tithen maethor nín.” (My little warrior)



As Cilinwë brought the child safely back down into his arms Estel could do nothing but giggle.



“I have not seen you in a while tithen pen, where have you been hiding? Do not tell me that you have grown tired of my company so quickly.”



“Oh no” Estel exclaimed as he enviously fingered one of the warrior’s braids, “I had to do lessons, an stories an…an…an I had to eat cab-bage!”



The nectar that Glorfindel was drinking was fairly spit from his mouth. He almost choked trying to keep himself from laughing.



“I beg you Cilinwë,” he gasped through fits of coughing, “please do not get him started on that again…trust me it is a long story…and perilous in its making!”



Those who knew the tale laughed heartily as Estel gave them his best scowl.



“Well then…” the warrior said laughingly as he set Estel back upon his feet, “you will definitely have to tell me about it later…for anything that could make you spill your cups is surely a tale that I wish to hear.”



Elrond simply shook his head, seated himself, and motioned Estel to join him, "Come along Estel, take your place at the table so that we can begin our meal.”



The child ran to his father and nestled his head in Elrond’s side. Looking up at his father he gave him the most forlorn look Elrond had seen quite a while.



“Ada,” he said pleadingly, “can I eat with ‘Linwë this morning…pwese?”



“Now Estel,” Elrond admonished, “Cilinwë and the other warriors have been up all night guarding our gates, they are tired little one, I do not want you to bother them. Let them break their fast in peace and quiet this morn.”



Estel threw the warriors a longing look, and it was all that the child-loving elves needed to see to break any resolve they might have had about a peaceful morning.



“My Lord,” Cilinwë started, “he is no bother…if it suits you my Lord we would enjoy the little one’s company.”



“Aye my Lord,” said Ecthíras “the little one has a way of brightening even the most sour disposition.”



“Yes Elrond,” Quipped Glorfindel, “I dare say it is the only time when we can get so much as a smile from our solemn faced master of swords.”



Estel looked up at Elrond beaming hopefully, if ‘Linwë said it was all right, and Ecthíras and Glorfindel agreed, his Ada was sure to say yes.



Elrond looked at his child and weighed his decision.



“Promise me that you will not be a bother…that you will eat, and you will let the others eat in peace.”



“I pwamice Ada,” Estel said as he bounced on his toes, “I pwamice!” “I be a good boy youl see…I pwamice!”



“All right then,” Elrond said as he shook his finger at Estel “but one sign of trouble out of you and back you come.”



“T’sank you Ada…I be no twouble at all…youl see,” and off he went to live his dream…to eat with the warriors, to be, one of them.


Chapter 7 - The Road Not Taken

Chapter 7 – The Road Not Taken

Elsewhere, on the plains of Rohan, a small group of elves made their way from the city of Edoras back to their home in Lórien. For many long years the elves had traded with the Kings of Rohan. Thengel, Folcwine, Folca and before him Walda; as far back as the beginning of the second line of Kings and the Death of Helm Hammerhand, The horsemen of Rohan were famous for breeding some of the finest horseflesh in Arda, and the elves would, from time to time, buy one or two promising looking colts to incorporate into their stables.

As was their custom, they ventured to Rohan bringing the finest quality woolens and fabrics, samples of ironwork, jewelry, and medicines. They would then trade for grain, dry goods, wine, and horses. Deals were often made years in advance for the yield from the harvest of certain grapes, or the foals of particular mares and studs, and it was this occasion that brought the elves to the foothills of the White Mountains.

Having concluded their business they were returning to Lórien having made successful deals for an upcoming harvest of grapes, which showed great potential for wine making, a shipment of barley that would be delivered to them later in the year, three new colts, and Elwaith, the salabir (herb master), Master of Lórien’s apothecary (pharmacy), had samples of four new herbs that did not grow in Caras Galadhon. So it was with high hopes for the future, and good spirits that the elves wearily made their way home.

Andras Daenirion, an apprentice stable hand, was excited and still chattering away about the trip as the elves neared the border of Fangorn Forest. For Andras, who was just past his majority at 105, this was his first excursion outside the borders of Lothlórien. His father Daenir was the Ostler (stable master) of Lord Celeborn’s realm, and it was with some trepidation and much begging on the part of his only son, that he had allowed Andras to accompany the trading party to Rohan. Normally Daenir would have gone himself to trade for the horses, but Andras had convinced his father that there was no time like the present to prove how much he had learned at his father’s knee. An so it was that Andras came to be in the company of Elwaith, the nestron (healer), Hedrían, overseer for the granary and Malrin and Fael two of Lórien’s best border guards.

Andras, like all elves was fair of face. But the description scarcely did him justice. Silvery blond hair straight as Mallorn branches hung to a point just past his shoulders. His skin seemed to have a special type of glow, unusual even for an elf. Dewy and fresh; smooth as an elfling’s bottom the older ellith were inclined to tease…eyes bluer than the eggs of a robin and dimples deeper than the grottoes of Moria. A wink and a smile from his angelic face had sent more than one maiden swooning into the nearest armchair, face flushed with desire…and embarrassment.

Though still an unproven youngling he was much sought after by the female population of Lórien, and numerous ellith had tried to gain his attention. Though flattered, Andras had no time for anything more than a brief flirtation. His days, like those of his father, were consumed by horses. A consummate horseman, he’d not wasted the time spent at his father’s side. One day; though it would not be soon, his father would retire; someone else would be named Stable Master of Lórien and Andras was determined that when that day came he would be ready…and hoped his father would hand the reins over to him.

The sun was hanging low in the western sky, soon the night would be upon them, and Malrin, leader of the party and the most experienced traveler among them, decided it was time to make camp for the night. They were six days out of Edoras, near the edge of Fangorn Forest; they had been riding hard for days now, each one with his own reasons to get home quickly. Fael was anxious to get back to his wife Nínas, by now she was in her last month of pregnancy, theirs would be the first elfling born in Lórien in the last hundred years, and the little one’s arrival was a highly anticipated event.

Elwaith was eager to start experiments with his new found herbs. Always searching for any remedy that could aid in the recovery of elves after battle or injury, he could barely contain himself with thoughts that he had found something truly revolutionary for the healing arts. Hedrían was almost beside himself with his latest deal for grapes and grain, Lord Celeborn would be most pleased with his efforts, as it would allow him to send some of the barley to Imladris where it had been sadly lacking for many summers now.

Andras, always a cheerful elf, was fairly bursting with pride at the trade he’d made for the colts. He couldn’t wait for his father to see what fine young horses they were. What was more important was that Andras had dealt for them on his own; he stood his ground with an experienced horse trader, and came away with three truly fine examples of horseflesh. The fact that he’d done better than expected on the price was an added bonus.

Finally, yet importantly, was Malrin, the oldest amongst them, and the one who most wanted to be home. Malrin, a seasoned warrior, had been a border guard for over 3,800 years, and in that time he’d traveled to many places and seen many things. One thing he’d learned was that he much preferred to be behind the borders of Lothlórien, he did not like being afield. The outside world held too many dangers, too many unpredictable situations; situations that an elf might not be able to control. His most fervent wish was that he would lead his companions safely back to Lothlórien. The world of men held no fascination for him, and the tree line of his home could not come into his vision quickly enough.

They began to set up camp, lit a fire and Fael went off to take his turn untacking the horses; Elwaith agreed to cook and the others were glad of it, as he was most assuredly better at it than they were. Andras, who had not had a turn at either cooking or hunting since they left Edoras, volunteered to see if he could find fresh meat for their supper. Grabbing his bow the energetic young elf headed toward the edge of Fangorn Forest. He’d taken about ten steps when Malrin looked up from unpacking his bedroll and called out to him to halt.

“Daro Andras! Where are you heading young one, surely not into Fangorn?”

“It is but another forest Malrin,” he replied, “I do not fear it.”

“It is not the strength of your heart that worries me young one, but the tales told of these trees, I bid you find your prey elsewhere…Fangorn is not a place for one such as you.”

“One such as me?” And what is that supposed to mean?” Andras said laughingly.

“One who is inexperienced and impetuous,” shouted Hedrían with a smirk.

“Aye, skirt the perimeter if you wish, or try your hand in the Entwash, but do not venture into Fangorn young one…it is no longer a place for elves. The trees here are not always kind, and even our woodland brethren shy from it.”

Malrin’s tone left little room for doubt as to whether it was a request or a command. His many years as a Captain on the western borders had fine-tuned his instincts in such matters. He was ill at ease in this place, and his eyes continually searched their surroundings for signs of peril.

“As you wish then…but do not fault me if we have naught but berries for our sup,” he said, and off he went quietly tracking along the perimeter of Fangorn for whatever he could find.

As Hedrían settled himself on his bedroll he looked over hopefully at Malrin and softly posed his question.

“You do not really think he is in any danger do you Malrin?”

Malrin’s eyes never left the back of the retreating form of Andras, and his answer came slowly…

“The trees here are guileful…I think now that we should have gone back the way we came…gone east from Edoras first, and then north. Heading north first has brought us too close to this foul place, and the sense that we are being watched has not left me since we made camp. Do not stray too far from your weapons this night…there is a foreboding about this place that is …unsettling.”

“Aye,” said Fael as he approached the fire, “there is something worrisome here…the horses sense it, it took forever to bed them down for the night.”

Malrin thought for a moment more, still scanning the area, then said…

“I despair to ask it of you Fael, for it is surely double duty…but I think it best we bring the horses in closer…something is not right here, and I do not wish to be caught unprepared.”

“Then we are like thinking my brother, for I too do not believe this place to be as it seems.”

Bending then, he hastily untied his bedroll and retrieved his long knives. Elwaith’s eyes went wide with apprehension, and he spoke fearfully.

“You think us in danger here? Yrch?”

“Be at ease my friend,” said Fael, “Were it Yrch we would have smelled them by now. There is something not right with the trees; as long as we stay out of Fangorn I am confident we will be fine.”

“But you take your long knives with you; surely you do not need them for the trees?” Elwaith said anxiously.

“Better to be prepared than caught unaware,” Fael answered, then headed off to get the horses.

“The more I think upon it, the more I believe we should move on…cross the Entwash and settle there for the night,” said Malrin. Rising, he strapped on his sword and picked up his bow. Noticing Hedrían’s questioning look he said, “I go after the youngling…I do not like the thought of him out there alone. Stay together and start re-packing our things, we will leave this place as soon as I retrieve the lad.”

A quarter mile away Andras had just spotted another rabbit. He’d already shot two, close to the edge of the forest, but this one was further away – about fifty feet inside Fangorn. The excitement of the trip was waning, replaced by an uneasy feeling that he could not quite name. He raised his bow and drew a bead on the rabbit, releasing the arrow, it found its mark. A shoulder shot, the animal was not dead, but it was effectively pinned to the ground, it could not get away.

“Aha! We will eat well this eve,” he said aloud. Slinging his bow over his shoulder he took his first steps into the forest. Around him the air seemed to come to a standstill. Where there had been a breeze now there was no movement at all. Cautiously he looked around and took a few more halting steps toward his quarry. With each step the trees seemed to become more agitated, angry. For a moment, he thought he saw movement up ahead, and he stopped, unslinging his bow. Notching an arrow he searched the area around the base of the trees, but saw nothing. Releasing a calming breath he continued toward the rabbit “My imagination has gotten the better of me,” he said aloud.

He was only a few feet from the coney when he heard a rustling in the tree above him. He looked up just in time to see the shape of a blanket or a cape of some kind descending on him. Unfortunately, along with that shape came the weight of a body – which landed on him knocking him to the ground and forcing his breath from his chest. He struggled to move the blanket to better see his assailant, but to no avail. His arms flailed about, and he couldn’t seem to get a grip on his attacker.

Finally he was able to get one hand free from beneath the cloth, and reaching up grabbed a hand full of hair. At that moment a hand grabbed his, and he experienced the most excruciating pain he’d ever felt in his life. Andras screamed at the top of his lungs, the pain in his hand was blinding, almost incapacitating, and it seemed to be moving up his arm, he felt like his very lifeblood was being drawn out of his body. Again he screamed, but his assailant would not let go. Kicking and struggling he tried to roll his attacker under him, but his weight was just too much.

Malrin was only a short distance away when he heard the first scream. Notching an arrow as he ran he doubled his speed, calling out the boy’s name as he came. Back at the camp Fael too had heard the scream, mounting his horse and handing the reins of the other horses to Hedrían he turned as swiftly as he could in that direction yelling over his shoulder as he went…"Stay here! Ready yourselves to ride! And stay together!”

Hedrían quickly tossed the bedrolls over the backs of the horses, giving Elwaith a hand up he then mounted his own horse and drew his sword.

“It has been a long time since I have had to use this,” he commented.

Reaching into the end of his bedroll, Elwaith produced a long knife of his own…"As it has been for me old friend,” he stated. He gave his companion a knowing look, “Aye…we cannot just sit and wait…they may need us.” With that, Hedrían grabbed the picket line and heeled his horse to follow in Fael’s wake, with Elwaith right behind him.

Andras’ screams had not abated, when Malrin finally reached him the elf was writhing in agony on the ground, his arm held fast to his chest. Malrin quickly scanned the surroundings looking for his attacker – he saw nothing but the blanket on the ground. Slinging his bow, he drew his sword and cautiously approached the screaming elf. Grabbing him under the arm he pulled him to his feet and hoisted him up onto his left shoulder. Sword at the ready he moved as quickly as he could back the way he came – out of Fangorn Forest. In moments he reached the edge of the trees and he could see Fael approaching, and further back two more riders were coming fast.

Fael stopped his horse and dismounted in one swift movement.

“What has happened to him?” he questioned.

“I know not,” Malrin yelled, “Something attacked him, but I see no blood. Quickly, get him on your horse, we must get clear of this place for I can see nothing in the woods, and I do not know how many they are.”

Hedrían and Elwaith arrived just as Fael swung up into the saddle behind the injured elf.

“I thought I told you two to wait?”

“We could not…we thought you might need us.”

Malrin pulled the reins of his horse from the picket and quickly swung up into the saddle.

“East! Do not stop until we have crossed the Entwash! Go! he yelled at the others. They quickly obeyed, turning their horses east and riding hard. Staring back into the darkness of the forest Malrin swore an oath.

“Whatever has done this evil will not catch us again this night, for if it does…it will taste my blade.”

With one last look behind them, he right reined his horse and headed for the river.

In the tree above the rabbit, a being with gold-flecked eyes parted the branches that concealed him and slowly began to lower himself to the ground. Reaching the spot where the rabbit lay it squatted and playfully twisted the arrow until it struck the animal’s heart. Watching as the elves rode away it said aloud. “The next one will not be so lucky.”


Chapter 8 - Just Like a Warrior

Estel, with his best manners in place, marched proudly over to the table where the warriors were seated. Climbing up on the long bench, he positioned himself directly between Glorfindel and Cilinwë. With Glorfindel to his left and Cilinwë to his right, he sat up as tall as he could, and found that his nose just barely cleared the tabletop. Cilinwë quickly motioned one of the servants over and whispered in his ear; within moments two plump feather pillows were brought to the table…

“Let me give you a hand tithen maethor ,” (little warrior) he said as he lifted Estel from the bench while the servant positioned the pillows under his little bottom.

“There we are, that is better, is it not?”

Estel nodded enthusiastically while scanning the tabletop searching for his favorite morning delicacy - soft-boiled eggs. The table began to fill quickly, as more warriors entered the room and seated themselves along the benches on either side. Morning greetings were exchanged along with the various platters, as the elves began to fill their plates. Glorfindel looked down at Estel and gave him a wink as a plate of cold sliced chicken was passed to him. Estel tried his best to wink back, but all he could muster was an off cadenced two-eyed grimace and a wrinkled nose. Cilinwë drew his napkin from the table and placed it across his lap, Estel, who was watching his every move, mimicked his hero and positioned his oversized napkin as best he could; draping it over his lap and his knees almost to his ankles. Normally his father would have tucked the napkin into his collar protecting his tunic from spills, but Estel decided that kind of thing was for babies, not warriors, and this morning he was one of the warriors.

Seeing his little friend was now properly ‘attired’ for the table, Glorfindel deposited a thick slab of meat onto his own plate and then two smaller slices of chicken onto the child’s dish. As the platter with the eggs approached Estel’s eyes widened with anticipation, but unfortunately, the plate was passed over his head to Cilinwë who placed an eggcup on his plate and then handed it off to Ecthíras who was seated across the table. Cilinwë then retrieved the dish holding the fruit, and spooned several large helpings onto his plate then turned and added fresh strawberries to Estel’s meal. When the hot buttered rolls were brought to the table Gwaenir placed two on his side dish, and handed the basket over to Glorfindel. Taking two rolls for himself, he then offered the bread to Estel who carefully removed one roll from the basket. Glancing over at the family table Estel found that his father’s eyes were indeed upon him. Noticing his Ada’s slightly raised eyebrow, he quickly turned saying

“T’sank you Glorfy,” then looked back and received his father’s approving nod. Now that he was off to a good start Estel had no intention of doing anything that would have him removed from this illustrious company. He knew that good manners were important to his father, and he was glad now that he had practiced so hard with Erestor. Thinking of Erestor, and only now remembering that he’d said he would break his fast with his tutor, Estel stole a glance in his direction and found that Erestor too was observing him. Never one who liked broken promises he gave his tutor a forlorn look that said, ‘Sorry Westor – I forgot’; then watched as his teacher made an exaggerated motion of smoothing down the front of his robe and straightening his shoulders, and Estel promptly sat up straight at the table. Erestor nodded subtly, acknowledging Estel’s apology and continued with his meal, while Estel grinned widely, knowing that he had once again ‘gotten it right’.

His attention was drawn back to the meal when he heard Gwaenir ask someone to ‘pass him the last of the eggs’. Estel sat crestfallen as he watched his much prized boiled egg being handed to the sentry. As the warriors began to eat, Elladan noticed the sudden and decided slump in the little one’s shoulders, and the sad little look on his face was hard to miss. The eldest Elrondion made a bit of a show rising from the table, ostensibly to retrieve another pitcher of apple nectar, and in the process, caught Cilinwë’s eye. Motioning with his head in Estel’s direction he quietly made it known that his brother needed attention.

Leaning over, the Master of Swords whispered in the child’s ear…

“Is something amiss Estel? You have not touched your meal little one.”

Estel hesitated, he was unsure of what to do. He knew his father was serious with his warning, and he did not want to cause trouble and be made to leave the table. Glancing at Elrond he could see that his father was momentarily distracted in conversation. He wanted to say something, but did not wish to show himself ill-mannered, he might not be invited back again if he did. Sheepishly, he peeked at his teacher and hoped that Erestor was still looking his way. Erestor was of course, doing what he always did…looking out for his pupil. Closing his eyes and subtly nodding his head he gave Estel permission to say what was on his mind.

“Dere are no more eggs ‘Linwë,” he whispered forlornly, “I wanted an egg.”

Smiling affectionately at the little one Cilinwë responded, “Say no more tithen maethor nín, if it is an egg you want, an egg you shall have.” Calling one of the servants to the table he asked that another bowl of eggs be brought, then carefully cracked open the shell on his egg and passed it to Estel.

“Here you are tithen maethor, start on this while I get you another…we cannot have it said that the warriors of Imladris are underfed and malnourished,” he said aloud, and received agreeing nods from the others.

“Aye,” chimed in Glorfindel, “pass me that tureen of porridge Ecthíras…and the honey if you will.” “And a small bowl,” added Cilinwë. Glorfindel then proceeded to spoon two heaping ladles of porridge into the bowl, and Cilinwë practically drowned the hot cereal with honey, topping it with three wedges of sliced peaches from his own plate and set it in front of Estel.

Estel’s smile seemed to beam across the entire table. Slowly he pulled his roll apart and dipped it into the golden liquid of the egg. Mouth full, and smiling brightly he took the edge of his napkin and dabbed at the corners of his mouth savoring the precious treat. Following his hero’s lead he carefully pulled his cup forward and took a small sip, gingerly putting the cup back in its place when he finished. Looking again at Erestor he found him sitting with an exceptionally ‘pleased’ expression on his face, his father too seemed to be smiling in his direction. Glancing up first at Glorfindel and then at Cilinwë Estel gave the two a toothy grin and decided then and there that this was where he belonged…he would be a warrior some day, he was sure of it.

The Lord of Imladris sat comfortably at the dining table enjoying both his breakfast and the conversation coming from the company at the table. Occasionally he would sneak a glance at the table of boisterous warriors, and at his little Estel. He looked so small sitting there between Glorfindel and Cilinwë. Elrond knew how much this meant to the boy, and he hoped the child didn’t feel overwhelmed. He also had his fingers crossed that Estel would behave himself and he would not have to make him leave the table. It was a lot to expect from one so little, all he could do was pray that Erestor’s lessons had taken hold, and that Estel would remember the basics; things like ‘please’, ‘thank you’ and ‘you are welcome’. If he could remember those small things and somehow manage not to fidget he would probably be all right.

Estel was a bright child, and already Elrond could see him mimicking the older elves. From the day he arrived in Imladris there had been and instant chemistry between the child and Glorfindel, although when Elladan brought the child into the house there had been a few disconcerting minutes when they could not get him to stop crying.



‘Flashback’

Seemingly terrified of the stranger who now held him, and calling out for his mother, Aragorn was not to be consoled. Even with all of Elrond’s many years of experience raising children he could not quiet the boy. Roused from his sleep by the noise, it was Glorfindel who finally managed to calm the child. Elrond bounced the babe in his arms while gently rubbing circles on the child’s back, and the boy seemed to scream even louder. Glorfindel, whose curiosity was piqued beyond measure, quietly came striding down the hall towards Elrond and the twins, with Erestor following close behind. As Elladan and Elrohir began to retell the reason for the now screaming child in Elrond’s arms, Glorfindel assessed the situation, reached over, and took the boy from Imladris’ Lord. As he turned the child around and held him to his chest Aragorn seemed to instantly quiet. Big fat tears still ran down his cheeks, but the terror and apprehension in the child ceased. As little Aragorn gazed through wet lashes at the Balrog slayer he grabbed a handful of golden hair and pressed it to his now severely running nose.

Timidly he questioned “Mama…mama?” then lowered his little head to Glorfindel’s shoulder as he wrapped the golden locks around his hand and calmed…slowly drifting off to sleep. Glorfindel soothingly stroked the child from his head down his back to his little bottom and gently whispered in his ear “Îdh tithen pen.” (Rest little one)

The assembled elves were flabbergasted.

“How did you do that Glor?” queried Elrohir.

“Aye Glorfindel…I did not think I would ever get him to stop crying,” Elrond lamented as he dabbed at his brow with a linen handkerchief. “How did you do that?”

“It is simple my Lord…the boy’s agitated condition made you nervous, with all due respect my lord it has been long since you have held one so small…you were shaking…you are still shaking. The child sensed your fear…he was already upset, and the combination of you bouncing him up and down and your trembling made him think that you were going to drop him. Children, be they elf or human have a fear of being dropped, it is why they protest when strangers pick them up. I merely held him strongly…and it seems,” the slayer said with a chuckle, “…he is attracted to my hair.”

“Aye…” Elladan added as he bowed his head, “he would be…his mother was blonde, he no doubt connects blonde hair with a feeling of security.”

“Aye, where would you like me to take him my lord? The room next to yours mayhaps?”

“Gwador…I know this is much to ask, but if you and Erestor would not mind…perhaps you could take the boy into your rooms tonight? He seems to have taken a shine to you, and if he should wake again in the night I would not want a repeat of this distress…it would not be good for the boy, already he has gone through much this night, if he wakes again…”

“Say no more my Lord, we will watch over the little one.”

“Aye my lord,” Erestor said as he moved to head down the hallway, “it is no trouble at all…Glorfindel, you take him back to our rooms while I look through the linen press for something he can sleep in…”

Glorfindel grinned proudly, all elves had an affinity for children, but his Erestor was particularly vulnerable when it came to the wee ones. “See if you can find something we can use for nappies (diapers) Erestor…I think he needs changing,” Glorfindel whispered as he patted the boy’s bottom.

“I will, I will,” Erestor said excitedly, “oh, and he will need playthings…something soft he can cuddle with…and a blanket of his own, I believe there is a lovely yellow one that Arwen used to use…”

“Erestor! Calm yourself Melyanna…he is only spending the night, not moving in.” Glorfindel chuckled.

But his admonishment fell on deaf ears; as Erestor swept down the corridor he was already mentally checking off all the things the baby would need. “I believe the trunk in the attic holds the twins’ elfling clothes…their little moccasins…and he will need a cradle eventually…”

Turning slowly to Elrond, Glorfindel laughed and shook his head as he began following Erestor down the hall saying, “I fear for what we have started this night gwador…we may never wrest the child away from him.”

Glorfindel’s words proved to be most prophetic. Erestor took to the babe like a duck to water. Knowing that his relationship with Glorfindel would forever deprive them of children, the secret longing in Erestor’s heart had finally found an outlet. Aragorn was his child…as much his as anyone’s. He would teach him, and care for him. He would help to raise him, he would protect him, and love him…love him as if he was his own. As Erestor gently tucked the little one under the covers, he placed a little white stuffed rabbit in the babe’s arms then closed his eyes sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar for the great gift that had been brought to their door this night.

‘End Flashback’

That was almost 2 years ago, and now here they sat at breakfast, Estel firmly entrenched between the affable blond who had soothed him so easily and the raven-haired sword master who he idolized. Watching the little one explore this new world of warriors both pleased and frightened Elrond. The time would come soon enough when a heavy weight would be placed upon his son’s shoulders. But that day was not today, and the elf Lord was content just to sit and watch his son’s joy.

As the morning meal began to wind down Erestor pushed his chair back and rose from his seat. Approaching the table where Glorfindel and company sat he addressed the child…

“Estel…have you finished your meal little one?”

The boy wiggled down from his perch and headed, grinning, for his tutor. In mid-stride he had second thoughts, and stopped, heading back towards the table. Looking at the assembled warriors he placed one hand behind his back and the other at his waist and bowed as Erestor had taught him.

“T’sank you for,” he looked to his teacher for the right word, and Erestor mouthed the prompt.

“T’sank you for…in–vit-ing me to break fast with you,” he said as he straightened up, then eyed Erestor for approval of his form. The Chief Counselor smiled as the elves responded to the boy’s very proper thank you.

“You are most welcome Master Elrondion,” said Ecthíras.

“Aye, little one it was our pleasure,” said Gwaenir as he snapped to attention and returned Estel’s bow.

“You may join us any time Estel,” said Glorfindel “I dare say your manners at table are a sight better than Maeraen’s.”

“Or yours,” Maeraen countered laughing.

Cilinwë rose and knelt beside Estel, “You did your teacher proud today Estel, your company this morning was a great pleasure.” “Now remember,” he continued, “do not be a stranger, get your gwedeir to bring you to the training grounds and come and visit me.”

“I will,” the child said excitedly. With that Cilinwë ruffled the boy’s hair then stood and followed the other warriors from the dining hall.

Estel, with his little hands clasped together close to his chest, was fairly bouncing as he watched them leave, turning to Erestor his enthusiasm finally bubbled over, words spilling from him like the fast moving torrent of the falls of the Bruinen…

“Did you see ‘Westor? Did you see? I did evathin’ just like you showed me…did you see?”

“Yes Melyanna, I saw, I am very proud of the way you carried yourself this morning.”

“Just like a warrior, right ‘Westor?”

“Yes pen neth, the seneschal replied. He stood quickly as his eyes began to tear over, he did not want the child to see him become emotional, but he was proud – could not have been prouder if the child had been his own. He offered Estel his hand and began to lead him from the dining hall to his classroom…"Just like a warrior,” he said under his breath…"just like a warrior.”


Chapter 9 - The Ride Home

The Lórien party rode hard towards the Entwash River as Fael kept one arm tightly wrapped around the young elf slumped in front of him. Andras had finally stopped screaming about a mile back, and now moaned helplessly as he leaned back against Fael’s chest. Reaching the river, Malrin judged the banks too steep and the river too fast to cross and gave the others orders to follow him.

“We cannot cross here; the water moves too quickly and is too deep! There is a bend just north where the river narrows…it is shallow, we can cross there!” he shouted over the sound of the rushing water.

“Can we not stop for a moment? Elwaith begged, “Andras is in a bad way, we must tend to what pains him.”

The others looked hopefully to their leader, the elf’s screams still echoed in their ears and they knew Andras suffered greatly. The moonlight allowed Malrin to take a hard look at the lad’s face and assess his condition. Sweat beaded his forehead and his face was contorted in pain. His tunic seemed soaked in perspiration and Malrin could see that at some point the pain had been so great the elf had lost control of his bladder.

“Get him down…but be quick about it, I do not wish to be caught here in the open. Hedrían, light a small fire so that Elwaith can tend to him.”

Elwaith lit from his horse and Fael handed the injured elf down to him. They lay the young one on the hard packed earth as Malrin dismounted and pulled his bow, notching an arrow – just in case. Andras had thankfully passed into unconsciousness still firmly holding his arm to his chest. With the fire lit, the darkness gradually faded, and Elwaith was at last able to see the elf's hand.

“Sweet Eru,” he uttered as he flinched back from the boy. “What in the name of Elbereth could do such evil?”

As the elves crowded round, they could not believe their eyes. Where once there had been a strong arm and healthy flesh there now hung a lifeless withered limb. Dry as old parchment, and shriveled to the bone. The skin was grey, almost black in places and the imprint of a hand could be plainly seen. As Elwaith cut away the boy’s tunic, they found that the damage extended up almost to his shoulder. The arm was dead. Nothing that looked so, could possibly hold life within it.

“What has done this?” Hedrían questioned fearfully. “What could cause such an injury and still not draw blood?

“I know not,” answered Elwaith, “but there is nothing I can do for him…this is beyond any healing I have learned.” ”We must leave…we must get him back to Lórien with all haste, perhaps our Lord knows of this witchcraft. Hand me my satchel, I will wrap the arm and secure it to his body.”

Elwaith scanned their surroundings, “Quickly now…heat some water, I will mix him some great mullein for the pain, and then we must be on our way.”

The elves rushed to make fast Andras’ arm and to brew the painkiller. With their tasks completed Elwaith slowly poured the elixir into the young elf’s mouth and massaged his throat to aid his swallowing. Malrin paced nervously as they gathered their things and remounted. Satisfied that no one had followed them he mounted his horse and led them to the crossing, silently praying that the borders of Lórien would soon come into view.


Chapter 10 - Friends in High Places

The rays of Anor brightly lit the morning sky, and the residents of Imladris were beginning their day, cheerfully going about their daily routines. The sweet smell of freshly washed laundry wafted through the air as it was hung from the numerous lines outside the doors of the washhouse. Warriors full of the exuberance and energy of youth made their way to the training fields, eager to test their skills against their older more experienced teachers. The kitchen was a hive of activity as cooks and bakers made ready for the noon and evening meals. The scent of fresh baked bread, rolls, and pie emanating from the ovens lingered on the breeze like an enticing perfume. Chambermaids and housekeepers dusted and cleaned, made beds and prepared the last homely house for the day as if visitors were about to arrive, and Glorfindel, Commander of Imladris’ military slowly made his way to the stables.

The golden one made a slight detour on his path this morning, stopping at the kitchens, his purpose, dual; to beg treats for his beloved Asfaloth, and to flirt with one of his favorite people, Nénilya, an elf more ancient than even he. Nénilya was the chief cook, in charge of the kitchens and everything that came in or went out from them. ‘Nilya’, as Glorfindel was wont to call her, ran her kitchens with military precision, something that the Balrog slayer could definitely appreciate. Everything was arranged to perfection; each morning her ‘troops’ were assembled no later than 6:00 a.m. and the morning meal was organized.

Of course Nilya herself was on duty long before that, stoking the stoves and inspecting pans, salvers, goblets, china and eating utensils. Everything had to be perfect for her Lord and his family, the twins were particular favorites of hers, and she could often be found shooing the two rascals out of her domain and away from her berry pies. A distant cousin of the once High King Fingolfin, Nénilya was now proud to call herself a member of Elrond’s house. She had seen and endured much in her many years on Arda, the fall of Doriath, and Gondolin, the birth of Elros and Elrond, the rise of the Last Alliance, and the deaths of both Gil-galad and Glorfindel; the latter of whom was now leaning against the archway leading into her kitchen, once again gracing her with that wicked, mischievous smile…

“And what brings you to my door this morn Lord Glorfindel…or do I have to ask? I tell you now if it is a sample of my pies you seek you might as well turn ‘round right now and be about your business, for my cupboards are closed to you,” she said in a dictatorial huff.

Glorfindel advanced on her slowly, a glint clearly showing in his eye. “My dear lady, surely you do not think me so shallow that my only interest in your kitchens is…your wares?”

“Lord Glorfindel I assure you your interests are of no concern to me,” she said haughtily, turning her back on him and moving towards the large washbasin. “As you can see I have much to do to prepare for the noon meal and your presence here can only serve as a distraction, and a nuisance to my staff, so if there is nothing more sir… I bid you be on your way.”

Glorfindel continued to press forward, and in one swift move grabbed her from behind and engulfed her in a forceful hug, lifting her off the floor and swinging her around in a circle.

“Put me down you rascal! Your false attentions will gain you no ground with me this day!” she squealed as he gently placed her back on her feet.

“False attentions?” he queried with a mystified look of innocence on his face. Taking her hand he bowed over it, “My dear lady I assure you, my attentions are, as always, true. As true as the blue of your eyes and the golden rays of Anor that shine down upon your lovely countenance,” he said, delicately kissing her fingers.

Nénilya’s stony gaze suddenly changed, her once forbidding expression was immediately replaced with a beaming smile.

“Well you best not let Master Erestor hear you say that, you mischievous old rake or we will both be strung up by our hosen.”

Glorfindel’s belly laugh was heard throughout the entire kitchen, “I dare say you are right Lady Nilya, Erestor is forgiving of many things, but I do not think a dalliance between the two of us would be one of them,” he said laughing.

Giggling like a young elleth she playfully swatted him in the chest and pushed him away from her.

“So what are you doing down here today ‘Del? You are not going to try and tell me they failed to feed you this morning…I made sure that your favorite cold chicken was sent to the table…you did not let those young bucks consume all of it before you got to it did you?”

“No my dear Nilya, those young ones will have to rise much earlier than they do to beat me to a plate of your cold fowl.” "No,” he said as he wrapped her in another affectionate hug, “I was hoping that perhaps you might have some carrots or perhaps and apple or two that I might take to Asfaloth.”

“Hummmmm, what have you done now Glorfindel?” she asked suspiciously.

Glorfindel tried unsuccessfully to give her his best affronted look. ”What makes you think I have done something wrong?” he questioned innocently.

“Because I know you golden one. To be here? Searching for treats for Asfaloth…first thing in the morning before he has even had his feed? Oh, you have done something all right, the only question is what, and how serious it is?”

“You know me too long and too well Nilya, and truth be told I have made a promise I do not know that I can keep.”

“And this has to do with Asfaloth?”

“Aye…Lord Elrond was in a bit of a pickle last eve, and in trying to extricate him from his dilemma, I believe I have rather ‘put my foot in it’, so to speak. He could not get Estel to eat, and I promised the little one that if he ate his cabbage I would let him ride Asfaloth.”

“Oh dear!”

“Yes, so you can see why I am in need of your help…I am going to have to use everything at my disposal to get him to agree to this.”

“Yes, I see. You know ‘Del, it might not be as bad as you think. I know Asfaloth can be cantankerous at times, but he would never do anything to hurt the wee one.”

“I know, I know…but it cannot hurt to be prepared. Do you think you could see your way clear to…”

“Say no more meldir, I will prepare a little satchel for you…I think you are going to need more than an apple or two for this one,” she said smiling. “As a matter of fact, I believe I have a small piece of that hardened sugar treat left that I made for Colwandë.”

The Balrog slayer stood smiling as his dear friend scurried about the kitchen making the special satchel of treats for his beloved Asfaloth. As he watched Nilya he could not help but marvel at the care and concern she always showed for the plight of others. Those from the outside world might think of her as only a mere cook, but Glorfindel knew better…it was nice he thought, to have friends in high places.


Chapter 11 - The Fear Within Us

The Lórien party closed in hard and fast on the borders of the Golden Woods. They’d ridden for days, stopping only when forced to by the exhaustion of the horses. As the border came into view they urged the horses on, safety and aid was now in sight, and Malrin prayed that once inside her borders his lord would have the means to cure his young charge. There hadn’t been much conversation between them since Andras’ attack, none knew what to say. Malrin blamed himself for the lad’s condition and cursed the moment he had allowed the elf out of his sight. He had no idea how he would explain this to Daenir, the lad’s father. It was his responsibility to get them to Rohan and home safely, and he’d failed; he’d been careless and Andras had paid the price.

The trees of Lórien held more than golden leaves, telain, and the promise of safe haven for friends. Secreted amongst their branches stood members of the Galadhrim, wardens of the borders, the deadliest archers in all Arda. Orophin, brother of the March Warden, was the first to espy the approaching riders. Signaling his brother Rúmil and their comrades with a birdcall, the archers unslung their bows and prepared to defend their borders.

“Can you see who it is? questioned Rúmil.

“Not yet my brother, but whoever comes, rides as if the very hounds of Morgoth were behind them.”

From higher in the great tree the voice of their companion Ingorn was heard.

“They are almost into view…it looks like…yes - stay your bows, tis Malrin!”

“Malrin?” Orophin questioned, “His party is not expected till 4 days hence.”

“Be that as it may, tis he, and they are still riding hard.”

“Something is amiss,” Rúmil said knowingly, “he would not ride his horse so, unless something plagued them.”

Climbing down, the wardens raced to the edge of the wood. Malrin, who was riding in the lead with Fael right behind him dismounted first, and quickly addressed the sentry.

“Rúmil, where are your horses?”

Rúmil stood with a questioning gaze on his face. “What is wrong my gwador, what plagues you that you ride your horses into the ground?”

“We will explain later brother; we have fallen upon ill times and must get Andras into the city as quickly as possible!”

Rúmil whistled for their mounts and as they approached he watched Malrin reach to take Andras down from the saddle. The young elf looked as though he had been through quite an ordeal and Rúmil could see the worry and tension on the faces of the others. Fael alit and helped Malrin lower the lad gently to the ground.

“What has happened to him?” Ingorn asked.

“We know not, only that he was attacked as he hunted in Fangorn forest…we did not see his assailant.”

“Fangorn! Orophin exclaimed, “what was he doing in that foul place?”

Fael speedily mounted Rúmil’s horse, and positioned himself to seat Andras in front of him. Malrin and Orophin lifted the unconscious elf and placed him in Fael’s arms.

“Go!” Shouted Malrin as he slapped the horse hard on his flank. Fael took off at a gallop heading towards the center of the woods, and the help that only his Lord and Lady might provide, praying that he would be in time to save the elf’s life.

Hedrían and Elwaith arrived then, pulling the ponies behind them. Exhausted and out of breath they stood down from their mounts and looked to the other elves.

“He is away then?” asked Elwaith anxiously.

“Be at ease Elwaith, Fael rides with him to the city…what happened out there?” Rúmil questioned.

“I must use one of your horses,” Elwaith said. “The healers may need my assistance, and I have acquired medicines that may be of help.”

“Ingorn…your mount! Rúmil ordered. The elf quickly handed the reins to his Lieutenant. “Take her,” he said as Elwaith pulled his satchel from his tired steed, “she is faster than Orophin’s mare, and better rested.”

Elwaith mounted and secured his bag across the horse’s shoulders as Ingorn handed him a freshly filled waterskin.

“Thank you my friend, I only hope that we are in time.” With that the elf took off, racing after Fael and the injured elf. As the others stood watching him leave, Malrin, worn out, leaned his back against a tree, and slowly slid down to a squatting position. Covering his eyes with his hand the elf began to weep. Hearing Malrin’s despair Hedrían came to his side; placing an arm around his shoulders he tried to comfort the distraught elf.

“This is not your fault meldir; there was no way you could have known.”

“But I should have known!” Malrin shouted. “I should have known! It was my task to know, it was my task to bring you all home safely…to bring him home safely to his father. It was my task to…”

“Enough of this Malrin!” Hedrían exploded. “There is only one to blame for this, and that is whoever or whatever attacked him.”

“Whatever?” Ingorn asked quizzically. “What do you mean…'what’ ever attacked him?”

“We do not know who or what attacked the lad…we never saw them…we only heard…”

“Heard what?” Rúmil demanded.

Malrin looked up and stared at the border guard through tear-filled eyes.

“Heard what I still hear in my heart!” Malrin shouted. “Heard what still echoes in my ears and in my mind…”

Hedrían placed his hand on Malrin’s shoulder to calm him, then looked up at Rúmil and quietly replied,

“We only heard his screams…”


Chapter 12 - Morning Lessons and Afternoon Tea

Estel sat working determinedly at the desk made especially for him; his father had it commissioned the day the boy took his first classes from Master Erestor. Estel had previously been seated at an adult sized table, plump pillows propping him up so that he could comfortably use the surface. However, Estel was a bit of a ‘wiggler’ and had the habit of trying to get to things that were out of his reach. The result of his reaching was, that on more than one occasion, he tilted to the side and had fallen off the chair, landing quite hard on the stone floors. The first time was unexpected, resulting in several minutes of unabated crying, followed by the equally unexpected arrival of his father and both brothers; who ‘just happened’ to be passing by.

Erestor later got them to admit they had been pacing in the hallway the entire time the child was separated from them, ‘just in case he needed us’ they said. The second time Erestor caught him before he landed, but that was enough for his father to order a child-sized desk that very afternoon. On this morning however, there was no crying. Estel sat, quite contented, completely engrossed in his assignment; he was learning how to write his name.

“’Westor?”

“Yes meleth nín?” (my love)

“Iss dis right?” the boy questioned as he held his slate up for the counselor’s perusal.

Erestor suppressed a smile and turned and answered the little one. “The word is pronounced ‘IS’ meleth, ‘IS’, repeat it for me now,” he prompted.

“IS!” Estel said loudly.

“Very good meleth…now what was your question again?”

“Iss dis right?”

The counselor couldn’t help smiling, it seemed that as much as they tried to correct him, there were just certain words with which Estel was going to have problems. Erestor made a mental note that perhaps it would be better if they didn’t teach both Westron and Sindarin simultaneously; he would bring it up with Lord Elrond at dinner. Taking Estel’s slate in his hand, he examined the child’s work with a teacher’s critical eye.

“Very good Estel,” he exclaimed. “I can see that you have been practicing. Very neat.”

“Can I go and show it to Ada? I made it real neat this time ‘Westor…cause I know you like it neat. Can I show Ada?”

“Why do we not save it for later meleth…it is almost time for us to have our tea.”

“Why do you say our tea ‘Westor? I never have tea, I always hafta have milk…can I have tea this time ‘Westor?”

The counselor laughed at the unending stream of questions that always seemed to come from Estel. He’d commented more than once to Elrond that the child was a veritable walking fountain of questions, always bubbling, always overflowing.

“Perhaps…a little cup, but we will have to put some milk in it.”

Estel was quick to point out the flaw in this plan. “Aw ‘Westor, I want my tea like your tea…you don’ put milk in your tea.”

“No I do not meleth, that is very observant of you…but I think the tea will be a little too strong for you without it.”

“Ada lets me drink tea.”

The fast thinking tutor sidestepped Estel’s argument, quickly demonstrating why he was known as the best negotiator in Arda. “Yes, but that is only when you are ill, and it has medicine in it, you do not want to have medicine in your tea do you?”

Estel, bright child that he was, mounted his defense, and once again showed his teacher that he had indeed been paying attention…to everything Erestor did, particularly to the way he maneuvered his way around a conversation.

“But you drink tea and you don’ have medicine in it,” he said astutely.

Erestor’s eyebrow did a quick imitation of Elrond’s. He’d been outwitted by a three year old, and quite skillfully, he noted, 'Good boy,' he silently thought. His pride in Estel’s ability to think things through to a conclusion that benefited him, was evident in his eyes…and his answer.

“All right Melyanna…but just a small cup, and not too…”

“Can I have honey in it too?” Estel interrupted.

Erestor gave the child an assessing look and then responded contritely. “Methinks you have missed your calling meleth…mayhaps you should become a negotiator instead of a warrior,” he said with a quirk on his lips.

“Nope, gonna be a warrior,” Estel said shaking his head in the negative while swinging his legs freely under his chair. “Gonna be just like Glorfy and ‘Linwë. He thought for a moment more, and then quickly added, “an Dan an Roh too…of course.”

“Of course…Erestor repeated dryly. “Come little one, let us go and have our tea…before you negotiate me right out of my braies.”

“Huh? Why would I…‘gotiate your underpants ‘Westor? ’Westor whas ‘gotiate?”

“Never you mind, just come with me so I can keep my breeches where they belong.”

Estel giggled and took his teacher’s hand, looking up at the counselor he added "Westor you funny…I don’ wan you breeches…dey woo’nt fit. ‘Westor can I have a scone? Wit’ booberries? Can we feed the birdies wit the crumbs? Can we show Ada my words now?”

The ever-patient counselor just nodded, and said yes to everything as he led the king of unending questions towards the kitchen. 'Warrior? Hummp, indeed! The child is a born negotiator, anyone can see it,' the wise advisor thought. 'Better to capitulate now Imladris…a counselor is born this day'.


Chapter 13 - The Land Of Horses and Begging

“Do not even think about it,” the horse communicated. “The last time you set him upon me he pulled my mane so hard I thought he would tear it out by the roots.”

“But Asfaloth,” Glorfindel continued, “he was just a mere babe then…he meant you no harm, he was excited.”

“Excited is an understatement, he - wet - my - back!”

“Asfaloth…he is just a little boy, and he is so fond of you.”

“I am fond of him as well, he is much nicer than the twins ever were, but that does not mean that I wish to be bald…or wet!”

“I promise you it will not happen again, I will be right here, watching the whole time.”

“It seems to me that making promises is how you got into this situation Milord.”

Glorfindel was completely flummoxed; Asfaloth would not give an inch. “Asfaloth, I am begging you meldir, Lord Elrond will have me drawn and quartered if I…we, disappoint the lad.”

“We, what do you mean we? I did not agree to any of this.”

“Asfaloth please…have we not been friends for years? Do you really think I would allow anyone to harm you?”

“Oh do not even think to bring friendship into this, my ancestors have been carrying you and yours for ages, and what have we received in return? An occasional carrot, when you manage to remember, and wet backs! Do not think that I am unaware of the trauma my kin experienced at the hands of those twins! Were it not for Arwen we would have given up on them ages ago.”

“What has Arwen to do with this?”

“Never you mind, just know that it is by her grace that the twins are still equipped to produce offspring! The answer is no!”

The mighty Balrog slayer stood shaking his head. Of all the horses he’d shared his life with, this one was the most independent, and the most stubborn. Truth be told they were a perfect match for each other. In a way he could understand; Asfaloth was strong, intelligent, regal…one did not just pee on his back.

“If you want me to give someone a ride why can you not bring me someone like Legolas or that majestic father of his, Thranduil?...Ahhh now there is a rider worthy of me.”

Glorfindel was just about at his wit’s end, when the light finally dawned for him…

“You do understand that you are turning down the opportunity to be the first?”

“The first what? The first horse in this stable to be peed on twice?”

“No, the first horse in this stable to give ride to the future King of Men. What I tell you now I tell you in confidence…Estel is the heir of Isildur…he will one day be King.”

“King?”

“Yes, King.”

“You did not say anything about the boy being a King,” the horse huffed.

“There are few who know, that is why you must keep this confidence, Estel will one day sit the throne…and you will be able to say that he first – sat - you”

“King you say?”

“King,” Glorfindel said nodding.

“Glorfindel if you are jesting, I know a briar patch with your name on it.”

“I jest not old friend, the boy will be King.”

“King”…the horse contemplated, “Very well then…I will give this ‘King’ a ride. But if he pees my back, so help me…”

Glorfindel did not allow him to finish the thought, “Do not worry old friend, the boy’s previous affliction is no longer a matter of concern.” Rushing towards, and out the stable doors before the horse could change his mind Glorfindel called out over his shoulder…"He will be no trouble at all, I promise.”

As Glorfindel rushed away, a figure hidden in the shadows of the stable slowly walked towards Asfaloth. Stroking the horse gently on his neck Lord Elrond gave the horse another sugared treat. “Thank you old friend, you really had him going there; for a moment I expected him to fall to his knees begging,” the ancient elf laughed.

The great white stallion bowed his head and snorted his pleasure, “You are welcome My Lord, hopefully we have taught him a lesson. In any event the result is what we all want…I would be honored to carry your son…know that I will protect him with my life.”

“As I knew you would Asfaloth…as I knew you would.”


Chapter 14 - Explanations and Promises

By the time Fael rode into Caras Galadhon carrying Andras, the lad had awakened and was writhing in agony. The herbs that Elwaith had managed to get into him had worn off, and the elf was delirious with pain.

“Boe enni nestron! (I need a healer,)” Fael shouted as he neared the gates, and what seemed like a small army of elves ran out to meet him. As he brought his horse to a stop he found himself surrounded by a sea of upturned faces, all confused by the ruckus, each coming to see what was happening. Calling again for the healers he could see three running their way, as eager hands reached up to take the wounded elf from his arms.

“Careful,” he called out; “his arm is badly injured!” Gently the elf was taken down from the horse, and carried in the strong arms of Timagol, one of the Galadhrim, towards the healing kiosks that were set up at ground level. The elves had learned long ago that tending the injured was made easier if the healers did not have to traipse up and down the many stairs that wound around the great Mallorn trees. As Andras was carried away, Fael doubled over with his hands on his knees, and was finally able to catch his breath. It had been a long and harrowing ride, for all of them, but for him most of all. As he stood there, bent, hair falling forward almost obscuring his face, an overwhelming feeling of nausea hit him. For a moment as he stared at the ground he thought that he would indeed vomit, but his eyes caught sight of the one thing, the only thing that could make him hold it together just a little bit longer…boots, boots that he knew belonged to the March Warden, Haldir.

Haldir was a no nonsense kind of elf, even if he hadn’t held an important position in Lórien, he was not one you wanted to find yourself coming up short against. Used to being obeyed, as always he was quick, and to the point.

“Report!”

With difficulty, the exhausted elf stood straight, and faced the infamous March Warden eye-to-eye.

“Andras was attacked while hunting for game, he is badly injured,” he said still trying to catch his breath. “We have ridden almost non-stop for four days to get home, none of us had ever seen such an injury, there was aught else to do but ride hard…ride home.”

“Attacked by whom?”

“We never saw the attacker, we ran to him as soon as we heard him call out, but there was no one in sight.”

“Where is the rest of your party?”

Fael turned slightly as he heard a rider approaching behind him. “Elwaith comes now, Hedrían and Malrin are probably still at the border, I took the horse of Rúmil, as mine was spent. He will need a replacement if he is to reach the city this eve,” he said timidly, knowing it was not always wise to tell the March Warden something he already knew.

“Are there other injuries?”

“No sir, Andras alone was hurt.”

“Where were the rest of you when he was attacked?”

“We were setting up camp.”

“And Malrin? Where was Malrin in all of this?”

“He had an uneasy feeling about the forest and …”

“Forest, what forest?”

Fael hesitated, and Haldir instantly knew there was something he was not being told.

“I asked you a question youngling, must I repeat myself?”

“No sir…it…it...it was Fangorn…Fangorn forest.”

“Fangorn! Haldir exclaimed. “Are you telling me that Malrin allowed the youngling to hunt in Fangorn forest?”

“No! Fael shouted. “I mean no sir; he specifically warned him against it, I swear he did! He told him he was not to go into it, to find game elsewhere! I do not think he listened,” Fael said as he lowered his head, tears filling his eyes, exhaustion, and remorse finally overcoming him.

Haldir turned from the tired elf as Elwaith pulled to a stop and dismounted.

“Warden Haldir,” he said in a rush “where have they taken Andras? I must speak to the healers at once, and I have medicines from our journey that we may be able to use.”

“They have taken him to the second tent with three of the healers.”

“Thank you,” he said as he rushed off. Turning back to the worn out elf in front of him Haldir continued his interrogation…

“You were saying,” he queried.

The elf looked at him puzzled.

“You were saying that Malrin had an uneasy feeling,”

“Yes sir,” the elf continued, “he was uneasy…said that he could not shake the feeling that we were being watched, and he ordered us to pack up camp and ready ourselves to ride, then he went after the lad. A few minutes later we heard Andras scream, I rode after Malrin and came upon him carrying the young one out of the forest. Hedrían and Elwaith came shortly after that bringing the horses and we mounted up and rode until we crossed the Entwash.”

“I see, and you never saw the attacker?”

“No, we saw nothing…”

“Do you think you were followed?”

“No sir, I do not believe so, Malrin rode rear guard until shortly before we reached Lothlórien. There was nothing behind us.”

“Very well Fael, you make take your leave, I am sure that after everything that has happened your wife will be happy to see you home safe. Rest tonight and I will speak with all of you in the morn. Assemble in my office after the morning meal.”

“Yes sir.”

Haldir stood there quietly contemplating the information as the tired forlorn elf began to walk away. Then, just as suddenly, he said over his shoulder…

“Fael…”

“Yes sir?”

“Do not blame yourself youngling, you did everything you could do…you all did. There is an enemy in our midst, and I promise you…I will not leave him alive.”

The young elf straightened his shoulders, bringing himself up to his full height, pride in who he was, a Galadhel, returning again to his face. There was a reason Haldir was March Warden he thought, someone would pay, and pay dearly for what they’d done to Andras…his March Warden would see to it.


Chapter 15 - How Much Alike We Are

Cilinwë Celebrosion was tired. It had been a long night; standing sentry for a realm that had no known enemies could sometimes be more tiring than actually being in a battle. He entered his sammoth (Chambers, series of connected rooms, an apartment) closing the door quietly behind him; unbuckling his sword, he placed it on the table in the center of his room. Releasing the clasp on his baldric, (holster worn across the back) he eased his shoulders out of the harness and laid his short swords down as well. Sitting, he removed the knife from his boot and uncinched the one at his side; they too followed their companions onto the table. Toeing off his boots the Master of Swords wiggled the now freed digits; glad to finally be off his feet. Exhaling slowly, the warrior began to undo his braids, using both hands he scratched at his scalp, tousling his hair, then sat back in the oversized chair resting his head on its back. Eyes closed, he thought over the morning’s activities…

'That Estel certainly is a little charmer,' he mused, 'he will make a fine swordsman some day'. Cilinwë smiled, thinking back to his own childhood, "How much alike we are," he said aloud. Cilinwë too was an orphan, born in 578 of the first age; he was only five when his world was destroyed.

His family lived in Beleriand, son of Celebros a sculptor, and Lariel a teacher, education and art were always a part of his life. As a child he had an excellent voice and his parents often encouraged him to sing. He also showed a talent for painting, and would paint pictures of his father while the elder elf sculpted. When Beleriand fell his parents were killed, and he was taken to Ossiriand (which was later renamed Lindon), there, he was raised by those few warriors (four to be exact) who were able to survive. Although well loved, and never mistreated, he grew up without the more gentle hand of a female. He lived a warrior’s life, it was not all he knew, but it was that with which he was most comfortable.

'It was not all bad,' he thought, 'after all, I had my fathers, and I met Erestor there.'

Their introduction took place at Erestor’s 200th begetting day celebration. Cilinwë was 647 years old at the time, and thought himself too old to attend the party of a youngling that he didn’t even know. He accompanied a mutual friend, Hendil, to the gathering and was introduced to Erestor during a lull in the festivities when the young apprentice advisor was asked to sing. Still quite shy at the time, Erestor tried to decline saying that he only sounded good when singing with others. Since their friend knew of Cilinwë’s excellent voice, he was pressed into singing along with him, and a friendship was born. They became close companions after that, often singing together in private or when asked at various celebrations.

He and Erestor fought together during the Last Alliance at the side of Gil-galad and Elrond, a battle in which they lost their beloved friend Hendil. Cilinwë, like Elrond, watched Gil-galad fall, and swore a vow that he would give up his own life before he ever let something like that happen again. His life…his service would forever be to his king’s herald, to the House of Elrond.

When Cilinwë and Erestor finally arrived in Imladris, once again refugees in the aftermath of violence, Elrond welcomed them with open arms. He included them in his household…in his family, and it was something for which the warrior would be eternally grateful. He felt humbled that Elrond had honored him by placing the training of his sons – Elladan and Elrohir and now little Estel in his hands. Anyone who thought to harm those three or to usurp his position as their teacher and mentor was asking for trouble. Trouble that Cilinwë was only too happy to provide.

Almost as old Elrond, Cilinwë was spectacularly beautiful, and highly sought after by the maidens, but an oath had been sworn, and he had no time for romantic liaisons. His life belonged to his lord and he would not have it any other way. Often pursued by admirers of both sexes he was shy, and the attention made him uncomfortable – ill at ease. However, put a sword in his hands and he was the epitome of grace and confidence.

His art, a talent no doubt picked up from his father, was also something he honed, and the walls of his chamber were filled with paintings he’d secretly done of the inhabitants of Imladris. Yes, secretly, as he kept this part of who he was to himself. For as adept as he was as a swordsman, he still had not quite mastered the nuances of social life, the intimacies of a family, and the casualness that flowed between family members. It was one of the reasons why he so admired the bond between the twins and Estel. They had taken the boy into their hearts, he was their brother as if born of the same flesh, and Cilinwë truly loved watching them together. They never tired of each other, the love was always so evident, so obvious, and he envied them that closeness.

He was almost always formal with Elrond, though they’d known each other for more than an age. Elrond, to the contrary was always warm and welcoming with him, thinking of him as he would Glorfindel or Erestor, but with Cilinwë it was always duty first, and he seldom forgot his “place” unless chided or prompted to by Elrond. Then he usually wound up blushing, staring at his feet, embarrassed that he forgot again – not to call his old friend ‘my lord’.

An elf of many secrets, he had an exceptional singing voice, but only Erestor knew of it. He was an accomplished painter and sculptor, but he’d sworn both Glorfindel and Erestor to secrecy on that account, saying that if others knew he drew or painted he would likely get little rest, especially from the ellith who always seemed to look for ways to get him into compromising intimate situations. What better way than to ask to have your portrait painted…in private. He often marveled that if his other friends ever sat down and compared notes, they would be pleasantly amazed at who he’d become and what he knew.

Quiet, serene even…but with a killer’s instinct born in the throes of battle, and honed by the warrior's creed. Watching him with a sword was like watching a dancer flit across a stage; his feet barely touching the ground, his grace with the weapon was unparalleled. Even Glorfindel, who was no novice with a sword, secretly envied his skill, and often referred to him as “the most cunning-handed swordsman in Arda.”

As he sat there quietly thinking, he could not help but have his thoughts roam back to Estel. The little one brought so much life and energy to the house, Imladris seemed alive again with the presence of the child. He rose and moved to the blanket covered wooden crate that sat in the corner. Pulling it over to his chair he uncovered it and reached in extracting a piece of wood. Only 14 inches in length it was an exact replica of his sword Celebhîth (Silver Mist), it still needed more work, but when finished it would be the perfect gift for Estel’s birthday. His little warrior would be beside himself, and Cilinwë laughed imagining how many dragons, balrogs, and Orcs the little one would slay before he started using his brothers as practice targets. All in all life here in Imladris was wonderful. Peaceful and tranquil.

If he had only known of the evil that slowly made its way towards his home, he would have ceased dulling the edges of Estel’s sword…and sharpened the edges of his own.


Chapter 16 - The Next Victim

It was almost time for the evening meal and Henry Timmons and his two oldest children were just about finished plowing his southernmost field. Henry was a short, barrel-chested man, with a jolly inviting smile. His oldest boy, Gideon was almost half a head taller than he, and it never ceased to amaze him that after only fifteen short summers he now had to look up at the boy if he wanted any conversation to be eye-to-eye. Henry had allowed the field to lie dormant for the last season to give the earth the chance to rejuvenate itself, and his plan was to plant a crop of wheat. If the weather held this year as it had last, the crop would be good and that meant money in his purse, and food to feed his growing family for the winter.

A genial, hospitable man, Henry was the father of three, two strapping boys, Gideon and Marcus and an adorable seven-year-old daughter Greta. His wife of sixteen years, Miriam, was currently pregnant with their fourth child, and as difficult as it would be to feed another mouth, both Henry and Miriam were looking forward to the new baby. Miriam was the third of six children, and Henry the second of seven. Used to life in large families they’d promised each other when they wed that they would have as many children as they could feed, and joked that they would go as far as to borrow if it meant that they could have more.

Henry Timmons loved his wife, and she loved him; and in their time together many faces had passed their door, faces that should have turned his head, or hers; faces that faded into the background whenever they looked at each other. The Timmons’ loved each other dearly, their life together, their children…it was all they needed. Their day had started like any other, but fate was cruel, and determined to play a hand that would change their lives forever.

As the sun began its slow decent in the western sky Henry reined the huge plow horse to a halt and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He could see his youngest running towards him through the freshly turned field.

“Papa! Papa!” she called, “Mama says to tell you ‘that is enough for one day’, and if you do not hurry home, supper will be cold and there will be no dessert for you this eve.” The little one laughed giddily. Henry scooped his daughter up into his arms and placed a sweaty kiss on her cheek.

“You run tell your Ma that if there is no hasty puddin’ for me tonight she’ll be the next one o’re my knee,” he laughed. Setting her back on the ground he turned to his boys saying, “Hurry up now lads, let’s get this done or your Ma will have all of us beggin’ for our after supper treat.” As they turned back to their work the little girl said, “But Papa, Mama says she needs Marcus to draw the water for her and Gideon forgot to fill the wood bin before he left this morn,” she said sticking her tongue out at her older brother.

“Very well then,” he sighed, “you boys go along home and help your Ma, I’ll finish up ‘ere and be there in a bit.” “Tell your Ma I’ll be there as soon as I bed down ‘Ole Ned ‘ere. Go on now, hurry along, do not keep your Ma waitin’.”

As the three children ran off home, Henry took another look at the ever-darkening sky. There would be rain this night; he could tell that a storm was approaching. Detaching Ned from the plow the tired farmer led the old horse from the field and towards the barn that sat behind their meager dwelling. As they approached the back of the barn Ned began to snort and fidget, pulling slightly against his harness. The closer they got to the barn the more agitated the horse became.

“’Ere now,” Henry said wonderingly, “what’s got into you? Come on now Ned, your antics are keepin’ both of us from our feed.” Pulling more intently on the horse’s lead he drew the animal into the back door of the barn just as the thunder boomed and the rain began to fall. As he led the ever more agitated horse into his stall he noticed that Gideon had emptied the woodbin and sighed in relief that he would not have to haul wood to the house in his tired condition. As he closed the gate on the stall the old horse seemed to become even more grieved, pawing at the earth and prancing in his stall.

“What’s got into you tonight Ned? Don’t tell me you’re letting a little old thunderstorm rile ya?”

The lightning flashed just as he was turning to fetch Ned’s feedbag, and in the sharp bright light he was startled to a halt.

“Oh my,” he said frightened, clutching at his chest,”who be you Sir? And what are ye doin’ in my barn? Ya ‘bout scared the begeebers out of me comin’ up on me like that.”

Receiving no answer he asked again tentatively…“Are ya lost Sir? You be welcome to come in and sit a spell whilst ya get your bearings if ya are. The wife was just about to put supper on the table…have ya eaten?”

He was about to pose another question when the thing reached out and clasped a hand over Henry’s mouth. The pain was instantaneous and overpowering. The right hand was followed by the left, which grabbed him about the throat, immediately quelling any chance of a scream. Henry’s eyes stretched wide in terror as he felt his lips shrink back against his gums, his skin feeling like some dried shriveled prune. His throat constricted to a point where not so much as a single breath could pass the back of his tongue. Flailing about and gasping for air Henry looked all the more like a landed fish, eyes bulging from their sockets as he struggled, rolling to-and-fro on the floor of the barn.

At that moment Miriam Timmons had an unexpected and extremely strong contraction, so strong in fact that she almost dropped the bowl she was carrying to the table. Grasping at her side with one hand, she moved to steady herself against the table.

“Are you all right Ma?” Gideon asked, concern for his mother quickly covering his face as he caught the bowl before the contents spilled on the floor.

“I’m fine boy…don’t you worry ‘bout me, just finish settin’ the table for me,” she said with a weak smile.

“I wonder what could be keepin’ your Da? Tis not like him to be late to supper.”

“Do you want me to go fetch ‘em Ma? Marcus said as he started for the door.

“No!” she said a little too sternly, then calmed and repeated herself. “No son…you stay here an ‘elp your poor old Ma,” she said sweetly. For some reason, a hunch if you will, she felt she should keep the children inside…keep them close. Miriam believed in her hunches, they’d never steered her wrong, and this one was telling her to stay inside in the safety of her home.

“Just set me a chair over there by the door so I can sit, and wait for your Da. I tell ya now, she said smiling I’m gonna give ‘em a right good piece of my mind for lettin’ my roast get tough.” Then she sat…sat by the open door and waited.

Ned whinnied loudly and reared up on his hind legs, throwing himself against the gate of his stall over and over again, as the noise of the storm covered the sounds of his distress. Finally the old gate gave way, and the horse raced from the barn into the thundering downpour as his master’s body lay twitching on the ground. The thing with the gold-flecked eyes peered down at the dying man with a satisfied smirk on his face, then grabbed the man by his pant leg and dragged him from the barn through the rear door and into the ever-darkening night, he would finish this in the trees…away from the possibility of prying eyes.

Inside the house Miriam had just placed the hasty pudding on the table and spoke to the children as she looked out the window towards the barn.

“We will wait a bit more for your Da,” she said as she slowly caressed her belly, apprehension beginning to overtake her. “Not one for missin’ a meal, he is,” she declared worriedly, but something, she knew not what…something told her that she’d just spoken an untruth. Furtively glancing at her children’s sweet faces she opened the kitchen door again and looked out into the darkness that now engulfed the barn. “He’ll be along soon,” she said trying to convince herself…”I know ‘em…he’ll be along soon.


Chapter 17 - Lessons and Career Choices

Earlier in that same day, Estel was on his way to his afternoon class. After having tea with Erestor, the little boy had dutifully accompanied his tutor to ‘story time’. Story time was actually history lessons, but Elrond had dubbed it with the more ‘Estel acceptable’ name so as not to off put the boy; who was not one for sitting still to listen to long, as he put it, ‘sweepy’ stories about old people. Lore Master Canúmion Imladris’ Pennathron, (historian) had devotedly and patiently taught the children of Imladris the history of the people of Arda for almost 3000 years, and never had he ever had a student like the little adan child. Estel, as far as he could remember, had started and ended each lesson the same way, with a question, and today was no different. Still unable to master some of the longer Elven names, Estel did as he always did, and shortened Canúmion’s name to something he could pronounce.

“Good noon day to you Master Ca nú,” he said bowing, as Erestor led him into the classroom.

“Ahhh…and good day to you as well Master Elrondion,” the dignified teacher of legend and lore replied as he pushed his chair away from his desk. Respectful pleasantries over, ‘Master’ Elrondion became Estel, and launched himself giggling into the waiting lap of the ancient elf and the questions began anew at breakneck speed.

“Ca nú did you see me break fast dis morning? I got to sit with da warriors, didin I ‘Westor? An…an…‘Linwë gave me his egg cause dere were no more an, an I wanted one, so ‘Linwë gave me his, didin he ‘Westor? An, Gwaenir said I was a pleasure right ‘Westor? An Glorfy made me porridge an... an... gave me some of his cold chicken that Lady Nilya makes special for him, an I had a roll and Glorfy said I can come back any time cause my manners are better than Maeraen’s, an…an “Linwë said I did ‘Westor proud…right ‘Westor? Will you tell me the story about great Naneth and how she flew like a birdie?”

“My, my, little one, slow down…you have so much to tell…I do believe that is a record even for you, I do not think you even took a breath,” he laughed. “I tell you Erestor the child has the makings of a Lore Master…yes indeed; he certainly knows how to tell a story.”

Erestor just smiled politely, all the while thinking, ‘Lore Master…well I never! Anyone with eyes can see the boy will be a Counselor…it is in his blood,’ then said politely, “Yes he does have a way with words, I am sure he will put it to good use some day.”

The counselor was tactful as always, but Canúmion still managed to detect a hint of sarcasm in his tone and thought…‘He is probably thinking the boy will be a Counselor…Hummp! A born Lore Master if there ever was one…there is not a doubt in my mind’.

Estel was finally the one to put this silent battle of wills to rest when he quickly added his tuppence to the conversation…

The little one determinedly shook his head no, saying, “Nope…gonna be a warrior, like ‘Linwë an Glorfy an Dan an Roh an…an…”

“All right little one, all right. Suppose we table this discussion for a later date and get to today’s story?”

“Mm’kay…the little one replied, then asked, “Canú whas table the ‘cussion? Whas dat mean?”

“I will explain it to you later pen neth, now let us get on with our story.”

And so it went for rest of the hour, Canúmion telling the story of Eärendil and Elwing and Estel asking question after question driving both his ever-patient tutors to distraction. When at long last the tale was complete, Estel was fast asleep on his teacher’s lap. Rising slowly the Lore Master carefully transferred the child to the waiting arms of Erestor. The counselor positioned the child on his shoulder, graciously thanked Canúmion for the day’s lesson, and quietly exited the room to put the child down for his nap. As he walked away from the door Canúmion said under his breath…”Lore Master…definitely a Lore Master.” Erestor, who even without his superior Elven hearing, was used to picking up the sometimes not so subtle comments of others in counsel meetings, heard the comment and thought …”Hummp!…only if Arda freezes over,” and continued on his way to the little one’s room, lovingly holding Imladris’ next ‘Counselor’ in his arms.


Chapter 18 - Confrontations

The southern border party accompanied by Hedrían and Malrin rode slowly into Lórien. The relief team had arrived during the wee hours of the night bringing horses and new orders. A considerable amount of time had passed since the Rohan troop crossed the Lothlórien border, and even though they were now safe, neither Malrin nor Hedrían could find a way to rest. Exhausted, their spirits downtrodden, Malrin became more and more anxious as they approached the edge of the city. How could he possibly explain this to Daenir? The boy’s father had placed his most precious gift in his hands, and he had failed to protect it. What would his Lord Celeborn say? And Haldir? Surely there would be grave consequences to pay. He would undoubtedly lose his position as a Captain on the borders. Lord Celeborn would never entrust the lives and safety of others to him again. And then there was Daenir, there could be no punishment severe enough to make up for what he must tell Andras’ father.

Entering the city, Malrin despaired of the reception he would receive, he was glad it was late for most in the residents had long ago gone to their homes for the night. But even now he could see that there was at least one who had not, for the March Warden waited for them at the city gate. As they pulled the horses to a stop Rúmil dismounted and approached his brother.

“Haldir, there is much to tell…we,” but Haldir cut him off. “I will hear your report in a moment Rúmil, there is something I must attend to first…”

“But Haldir…”

“In a moment Rúmil.” The March Warden’s tone left no room for argument or appeal and Rúmil, though he feared what his brother would say to Malrin, immediately quieted. Malrin slowly alit, strode towards Haldir, and stood before him face to face. Standing stiffly he looked Haldir in the eye and awaited his fate. The March Warden was never an easy elf to read, centuries of practice had taught him how to school his features, today was no different, and Malrin knew not what to expect, but he knew whatever it was it would not be good. However, even he could not have predicted what happened next; Haldir stepped forward and enveloped him in a warm embrace saying,

“The last few days have been trying ones for you my gwador…welcome home.”

Malrin could not believe his ears, and all the anger, frustration, fear, and anxiety that he had been desperately holding at bay came flooding out. He collapsed into Haldir’s arms his body shaking, wracked in the throes of misery and sorrow. He grasped blindly at Haldir’s tunic holding on tightly as his knees gave out. Haldir’s strong arms held him tightly and kept him upright as the tears began to flow unabated.

“It will be all right my brother,” he continued, “there was nothing you could do…”

But Malrin was inconsolable, his anguished cries rent the night air and the assembled elves felt his pain as keenly as if it had been their own. Rúmil and Orophin stood grim faced, angered by what this foul deed had done to one so strong. By what it had done to one who had kept them safe from harm for centuries untold.

“But I failed him,” Malrin said in a voice just above a whisper, “what will tell his father?” the tormented elf wailed. “What can I possibly say to his father?”

The March Warden thought carefully…then spoke again as he tenderly held the distraught warrior…

“You will tell him the truth…you will tell him that there is an enemy amongst us. You will tell him that none of the Galadhrim will rest until that enemy is found and destroyed. You will tell him that our Lord Celeborn has decreed it, and you will tell him that I and my brothers will make it so. That is what you will tell Daenir, for there are no words that will bring him comfort…but time will bring him justice, and time is something we elves have in abundance. We will find the guilty one, and retribution will come on a catlike whisper, he will not see it coming, he will not hear it, but an Elven blade will be the last thing he feels.”


Chapter 19 - Long Naps and Smart Mouths

At precisely 3:00, Lord Elrond put down his quill, eyes weary from a day filled with reading proposed treaties, and signing agreements; he leaned back and rested his head against the back of the chair. The day had been a trying one, and he was anxious to put work behind him, to rest, and enjoy the remainder of the day with his family. It wasn't often that he had the pleasure of the company of his twin sons, but since Estel's arrival they seemed more inclined to stay close to home. Children were rare in the Elven realms, and the opportunity to bond with Estel and watch him grow was too tempting to miss. Elrond was thankful that he now had all three of his sons under his roof at the same time. Rising, he paced out onto the balcony of his study and inspected the gardens. Beyond the hedges near the short garden wall he could see elves going about their daily chores, laundresses were bringing in the wash, and sentries were returning to the house from their morning turn at watch.

The faint sound of a hammer hitting an anvil could be heard from the other side of the house, announcing that the smiths were hard at work as usual. Groundskeepers were lovingly cutting fresh stems of flowers that would grace the halls and tonight’s supper table, and the smell of fresh baked goods could be detected on the air. One aroma that found its way to his sensitive nose was that of apples; someone had made baked apples – Estel would be ecstatic, it was one of his favorites. Thinking now of his little son the Elf lord turned slightly to his right and checked the sundial that sat at the edge of the balcony. 'Yes,' he thought, it was time to wake Estel from his nap, any more sleep and none of them would rest this eve, as the boy would undoubtedly be up all night.

Returning to his study, his thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his door. “Enter” he called out, and eyed the door apprehensively as it was slowly pushed open. Fearing it was one of the scribes bringing more work, he crossed his arms over his chest in an unconscious defensive stance. He was relieved to find that rather than more work it was his middle son Elrohir, come, no doubt, to persuade him to end work for the day. Little did Elrohir know that his father looked forward to his visits, depended on them actually, as a way of getting free of his duties without having to feel guilty for work left undone.

“Adar, have you finished for the day yet?”

Elrond paused momentarily, deciding whether the ‘game’ should continue then responded,

“Not quite my son, I still have much to accomplish before I can call this day’s work complete.”

“But Adar, the hour grows late, and Estel is still not up from his nap. Glorfindel has made him a promise, and I intend to see that he keeps it.”

“As do I.” A third voice was heard from the doorway, as Elladan entered the room. “Come Adar,” he continued “it will be Estel’s first real ride, you do not intend to miss it do you?”

The great elf lord stood smiling, it never ceased to amaze him how protective the twins were of their brother. It would not do for someone to make a promise to the boy that they could not keep, for they would surely incur the long-lasting resentment of the twins. Elrond approached Elrohir and gently caressed the side of his face, “You are good brothers,” he said lovingly, “and no – I do not intend to miss his first ride. On the contrary, I have taken steps this morn to make sure that he gets his ride with or without Glorfindel’s assistance. But do not mention that to Glorfindel,” he said conspiratorially. "Let him continue to think that his ‘charm’ has won Asfaloth over. Later, when he least expects it we shall have a good laugh at his ‘negotiating’ skills.” The twins chuckled and nodded their compliance with their father’s wishes.

“Come, let us go and retrieve your brother and get him ready for the festivities, for I have no doubt that this will be a milestone event!”

The three elves exited the study still laughing, and headed down the hall to Estel’s room. Opening the door Elrond could see that the little one was indeed still sleeping. As he and the twins stepped into the chamber he caught a glimpse of Erestor as he rose from behind the table situated in the corner. It was often Erestor’s habit to do some of his paperwork in the boy’s room while he napped. He claimed it was the only place in the house where he was guaranteed that no one would enter and disturb him. As Elrond crossed the room to the bed Erestor tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement of his Lord’s presence.

“Did he sleep well Erestor?”

“Yes Milord, he fell asleep half way through his favorite story and has slept soundly ever since.”

“Let me guess…the story of Elwing?”

“Correct Milord, he does enjoy the part where she flies away,” Erestor commented as he looked lovingly at the sleeping child. Elrond approached the bed and sat down on the side. The healer in him was opposed to abrupt and unceremonious waking of any one, so he carefully leaned over and blew in Estel’s ear. The little one stirred, but only briefly, turned his head and went on sleeping. Elrond again blew in his ear, this time gently rubbing circles on the child’s back.

“Estel,” he whispered, “it is time to wake now son…you have to get ready for your ride.”

Estel’s head turned back in the direction of his father, his sleep ladened eyes opening slowly.

“Ada?”

“Yes pen neth…time to wake ion nín, your ride awaits.”

“My ride?” the little one questioned drowsily.

“Yes, do you not remember? It is time to go and see Asfaloth.”

Estel’s eyes popped open like a shot.

“Affaloff? Now Ada? I can go now?” he said as he crawled out from under the covers and onto his father’s lap.

“Yes son, we can go now, but first you have to wash your face and get your tunic and moccasins on.”

Estel scooched down from Elrond’s lap and began pulling his father towards the bathing chamber.

“Come on Ada! We have to hurry, Affaloff has been waitin’ all day! If we don’ hurry it will be time for him to go to bed. Come on Ada!.” He said as he pulled his father up off the bed.

As the great elf lord was practically dragged into the bathing chamber the twins stood laughing; watching as Estel grabbed their father by the front of his robes…the lower front, causing the robes to cling tightly to the backs of their father's legs, almost tripping him. As Elrond was dragged ever closer to the bath the chuckling twins turned as they heard the door behind them open again. Boisterous as ever, Glorfindel entered the room calling out for Estel.

“Estel! Are you not ready yet?”

The child stopped his tugging long enough to peek around his father to answer the Balrog slayer.

“I comin’ Glorfy…don’ leave me, I just hafta wash my face m’kay?”

“I await your pleasure Master Elrondion!” Glorfindel said as he gave the boy an exaggerated bow.

“See Ada…now we gonna be late. You said iss not nice to be late. Why didin you wake me up Ada?” the boy said placing his hands on his hips with a pout and a huff.

Elrond’s infamous eyebrow almost disappeared from his forehead, so shocked was he at the littlest Elrondion’s exasperated tone. By this time both the twins and Glorfindel were howling with laughter.

“He is right Adar, you always taught us that it is inappropriate to keep another waiting for you,” Elrohir said between fits of giggles. “Aye Adar…,” added Elladan “you made quite a big stir any time we were late for an appointment.” “How does it feel to have your words turned back upon you?”

“It feels as though I should have spent more time disciplining and less time leading by example,” the elf lord said with a huff. Turning to Estel, Elrond continued…

“I believe I also taught you to be well mannered and polite…did I not?”

Estel took one look at his father’s stern countenance and immediately cowered, lip quivering.

“I tryin’ to be Ada, I don’ wanna keep Affaloff waitin’.”

“That is not what I meant Estel and you know it…the way you spoke to me just now was not very polite…I am not sure if I should allow you to go for this ride if this is the way you are going to behave.”

Properly chastised the little one replied, “I sorry Ada,” and then with the most serious face he could muster he looked up at his father while bouncing on his toes and said…

“I just x-cited.”

Glorfindel fairly came undone…by this time the twins were leaning against the walls for support, and even Erestor had to turn his back to keep from laughing in his lord’s face. Elrond tried to keep a straight face but it was becoming ever more difficult.

“Excited eh?”

Estel, his big eyes wide, bit on his bottom lip and nodded vigorously in the affirmative.

“Well I suppose I could pardon you this once, but you will not have a smart mouth again will you?”

Estel with his lips firmly clamped together shook his head ‘no’ so vehemently Elrond thought for a moment that he might shake it loose from his shoulders.

“Very well then, let us continue getting you cleaned up and then we can go and work off some of this ‘Excitement’.”

“Good idea Ada,” Estel said seriously as he nodded his agreement.

Elrond looked to Glorfindel as if to say, “This is all your fault you know,” but the slayer merely shrugged his shoulders, and busied himself looking for the boy’s tunic. By this time Erestor located Estel’s moccasins, and when the boy emerged freshly scrubbed from the bath, he set him on the bed, knelt, and slipped the footwear on the child’s feet. The counselor tried his level best not to look up for he knew if he did he would start laughing again and this time there would be no stopping it. Taking the tunic from Glorfindel, Elrond helped his son button the garment and then took the little one’s hand.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yeth”

Elrond stooped to pick the child up, but was halted by Estel’s objection…

“You don’ hafta carry me Ada…I know the way, come on I show you.” With that, the littlest Lord of Imladris ran toward, and out the door with his father, brothers, Erestor and Glorfindel bringing up the rear. They looked all the world like a small hunting party out for a day of adventure, and Elrond could not help but think.

'Soon the day will come when he will indeed lead others, it is inevitable, I have foreseen it…but I pray dear Elbereth that you do not let that day come too quickly, for I will surely miss these times.'

“Are you comin’ Ada?”

“I am coming son…I am right behind you, ” (I will always be right behind you).


Chapter 20 - Grand Horses Great Rides

Elrond and company made their way through the gardens, across the cobblestone courtyard, and down the lilac strewn winding path to the stables. Glorfindel and Estel led the group, with Estel fairly bouncing the entire distance, asking questions every step of the way…

“Glorfy, Affaloff won’ throw me on the ground will he?”

“Of course not Estel, Asfaloth would never do something like that to you.”

“Are you sure Glorfy, cause my brudders said Affaloff is a war horse, and war horses are weally strong, and weally fast, and dey throw dere en’mies to the ground and step on ‘em,” he said as he stomped the ground for emphasis.

“Well, yes that is true Estel, but we are not at war little one, and even if we were you are not an enemy, so Asfaloth would never try to step on you.”

“Glorfy, does Affaloff know I not the en’mie?”

“Yes of course he does Estel. He knows exactly who you are, he has seen you before with your father and your brothers, and he has seen you out in the gardens playing.”

“Oh, ”

“Yes, and he would never step on one of our warriors, not even the little ones.”

“Weally?”

“Really.”

At that moment, Estel stopped in the middle of the path as though he had been struck by lightning. “Glorfy I havta go back!” he shouted.

“Go back? To the house, why little one? I promise you Asfaloth will not hurt you?”

“No, no!” Estel shouted, “I forgot somet'ing, I hafta go back.” Elladan quickly knelt at his brother’s side and tried to calm him…“What is so important Estel? Why do you want to go back?”

“I forgot my gift for Affaloff,” the child pouted, “I need to give him my present so he will like me so we can be friends.”

“Estel,” Glorfindel chided, “you do not have to bring Asfaloth gifts to get him to like you, just be yourself, and he will like you just fine?”

Estel was having none of it, “But I made it for him, and ‘Westor and me searched and searched to find the pieces for it, and I want him to have it, I hafta go back…Adaaaaa.”

“Peace Estel,” Elrond comforted as he knelt beside his son, “what is this gift you made for Asfaloth?”

“Iss a s’prise,” then the child leaned over and whispered in his father’s ear…"I not supposed to tell anybody or else it won’ be a s’prise Ada.”

“I see…well do you suppose you could tell me where the gift is? Then perhaps one of your brothers can run back to the house and get it for you.”

Estel thought for a moment weighing the decision as to whether he should reveal one of his biggest secrets, and one of his premier hiding spots all in one fell swoop, Deciding that maybe - just this time, it was for the best he whispered to his father again…

“Iss in my secret place Ada.”

“And where is that little one,” Elrond whispered back.

“In the bottom of my chiffa…chiffa…”

“Chiffarobe?”

“Yeth, in dere. ’Westor wrapped it up for me, in pretty cloth…and dere’s a liddle sack with treats.”

“Very good son…Elladan if you would be so kind as to look in the bottom of Estel’s wardrobe you will find a small sack and…a present for our favorite stallion. Mind you now, be careful with it, your brother has obviously put a lot of effort into this gift; make sure that you do not damage it.”

“Of course Ada,” then smiling he turned to his brother saying, “I will be right back Estel, quick as a flash…promise you will wait for me though…I do not want to miss one moment of your ride all right?”

“I pwamice ‘Dan, but hurry,” he said as he bounced up and down – a sure sign that a trip to the privy was needed, “iss late…an I don’ want Affaloff to go to bed, Glorfy says he gets cranky if he misses his sleep.”

“All right gwador, quick as a flash I shall be!” an off he ran back up the path.

Estel tried to wait patiently for his brother to retrieve the present, but the combination of meeting Asfaloth, and the ever-increasing urgency of his bladder were getting the best of him. While they waited on the path, Glorfindel and Elrond tried to pry information out of Erestor as to exactly what this special gift was that Estel had made; but the counselor held fast, and refused to divulge what he knew.

“I will not be the one to ruin Estel’s surprise, you will all just have to wait and see.”

This, unfortunately made both elves even more curious, and they continued to pressure the counselor for information; Glorfindel was quick to try his hand with one of the weakest bits of reason Erestor had heard in a very long time.

“Erestor…I have a right to know what the little one has made…what if it is something that Asfaloth will object to?”

But Erestor was prepared for any argument, especially any from Glorfindel, and quickly turned the tables on the warrior…

“Do you really think that after all these years of watching you with that horse, that I would help Estel make something that the beast would object to? Do you think me that foolish…or just that inept?”

“Well no, no…of course not meleth,” he stumbled on “I…I just want to make sure that…”

“You just want to make sure that you know everything…even things that are not really your concern. This is between Asfaloth and Estel; if the little one will not tell you then I certainly will not break his confidence.”

"You and Estel have been keeping yourselves very sequestered of late seron vell, (beloved) ever since Estel and I had that talk about why horses do not have birthday parties.”

"Birthday parties Glorfindel?” Elrond asked quizzically.

"Yes," Glorfindel answered as he lowered his voice. "The little one was making sure I knew his birthday was coming up, he wanted to make sure I did not miss it. Somehow we got on the subject of whether horses have birthdays, and he was not pleased to know that they do not have parties or get gifts. I suspect that he got started on this then, with a little help from you-know-who."

"Ah, I see.” At this point Elrond leaned over and whispered in Glorfindel’s ear “I could order him to tell us,” he said conspiratorially.

“I heard that,” Erestor said as he turned from helping Estel pick flowers. “It will do you no good to bandee orders about, Estel is also a Lord of Imladris, and I am following his instructions.”

“He has you on that one Meldir…technicalities are his specialty” Glorfindel offered.

“Yes, I know, why do you think I took him into service in the first place?” the elf lord grinned.

Just then, Elladan appeared at the top of the path carrying Estel’s gifts. As he neared the group, Estel took off at a run in his direction calling out to him.

“Dan you found ‘em!”

Gently handing the package to his brother he stacked the little sack on top and replied…

“There you are gwador nín, (my sworn brother) all in one piece just as I promised…now, are you ready to go and see Asfaloth?”

“Yeth,” the child responded as he again began to bounce on his toes.

“All right then, lead the way. ”

Estel turned and resumed his march to the stables, carefully holding his packages, lilacs hanging from the pockets of his leggings; Asfaloth would indeed get the surprise of his life.



As the party reached the doors of the stable they were met by Colwandë, Imladris’ Ostler. “Good noon day to you M’Lords…Master Estel. I was not expecting your arrival Milord, no one informed me that you would be riding today…shall I prepare your mounts, it will only take a few minutes?” he said anxiously. Lord Elrond raised his hand to calm the nervous stable master then spoke reassuringly…

“Good day to you as well Colwandë…there is no need to fret, we are not going riding…at least not all of us,” he said as he looked down at his son. “Asfaloth has graciously agreed to give Estel his first real ride, and we…well we are just here to lend moral support.”

“Asfaloth you say? Well this will certainly be a momentous occasion, for he allows no one other than Lord Glorfindel to sit him, unless there is a dire emergency. Do you mind if I stay and watch?”

“Feel free to join us Colwandë, it may very well be the only time any of us will ever see something like this.”

“Indeed,” he replied, nodding his head in agreement. Gently then, Elrond pushed Estel through the doors saying…

“Go on son, you lead the way, this is your day.”

Estel took a few tentative steps towards Asfaloth’s stall then turned and grabbed Glorfindel’s hand.

“Glorfy…mayhaps you ought to go first…just in case he’s havin’ a cranky.”

The Balrog slayer laughed aloud. Taking the boy by the hand, he led him up to Asfaloth’s stall; the majestic horse stood a full 17 hands high and his snow-white coat had been brushed until he almost seemed to glimmer in the fading sunlight. His full thick mane was thrown over the left side of his neck with a long white tendril of a curl that fell just between his ears over his forehead. His tail hung almost to the ground, and he held it high and swished it back and forth as he pranced nervously in his stall. Estel stood there stock still, mouth agape, all he could think of was how huge this animal really was. Now that he had seen him up close, he was positive that Asfaloth was either going to step on him…or eat him. Opening the stall, the balrog slayer stepped inside and gently stroked the horse under his jaw. Turning, he motioned Estel forward and said,

“Allow me to introduce you; Estel, this is Asfaloth…by Asfaloth the IV out of Gwelwen, (Air Maiden) he said, reciting the horse's lineage. Asfaloth…this is Master Estel Elrondion, son of Elrond, Lord of Imladris.” Estel couldn’t speak…he didn’t think he could move; he was wrong. The horse snorted, shaking his head, then pawed at the ground and moved forward to the open stall door. It was all Estel needed to see, the little one shrieked “He gonna eat me!” then bolted for the door at a dead run dropping his package and wetting his pants as he ran. The assembled elves ran after the boy chasing him part way up the path, Elrohir was finally able to catch up to him and grabbed the sobbing child by the back of his little cloak. Estel turned and flung himself into his brother’s arms saying, “He was gonna eat me…don’ let him eat me ‘Roh!”

The others caught up to them and Elrond knelt taking the boy in his arms offering soothing words of comfort.

“There, there ion nín…all is well, did Asfaloth scare you?”

“Don’ let him eat me Ada…he was gonna eat me I know it!”

“Ohh, hush now Estel…Asfaloth does not eat little boys…he would never do anything like that.”

Estel, mouth at full pout, pulled back so that he could look his father in the eyes.

“Are you sure Ada?”

“I am positive little one, he was only trying to say ‘Mae govannen’, besides, your brothers, Glorfindel, Erestor, Colwandë and I are all here…we would never let any harm befall you, and we would certainly not let anyone eat you,” he said as he rubbed his nose against the child’s and tickled the boy’s sides making him giggle.

“What say you now, do you still want to take your ride?”

Estel looked at the faces of those around him, he wasn’t quite convinced that he would not become the main course in Asfaloth’s feedbag and was just about to voice that opinion when the great white stallion nudged Colwandë aside and stood front and center before Estel. The child clutched his father about the neck as tightly as he could and buried his little face in Elrond’s shoulder. If this great beast was going to eat him he would have to get past his father first. Slowly Asfaloth moved forward, gently he nuzzled Estel’s back and nickered softly in his ear. Gradually Estel looked around and seeing the horse so close he quickly buried his face in his father’s shoulder again. But Asfaloth was persistent; again he nudged the boy, this time more firmly and used his nose to gently separate the child from his father. As Estel looked up Asfaloth bowed his head and softly rubbed the boy’s tummy with his nose, giving the child a good tickle. As the giggles started, Estel tentatively reached out and patted the horse on the nose. Growing more confident he turned in his father’s arms and used both hands to stroke the horse’s muzzle.

“There now,” Glorfindel said smiling, “did I not tell you that you two would be friends?”

Estel smiled at the big white horse and whispered in his ear…

“I made somet'ing for you, an, an I brought you a treat.”

Erestor silently moved forward and handed the hastily discarded packages to Estel, who, having found his courage in his father’s loving arms, now placed the gift on the ground in front of Asfaloth. The horse bent his head low and caught the end of the gold colored cord that secured the bright blue fabric to the box. Tugging gently, the cord came undone and the fabric, with Estel’s help, fell away from the box. Lifting the lid Estel revealed a beautifully hand tooled black leather headstall bearing the crest of Imladris, with three tiny silver bells on each side. Asfaloth nickered his approval loudly and shook his head, repeatedly nudging the child in his chest.

“Estel,” Glorfindel exclaimed, “he loves it, he wants you to put it on him.”

Looking up at the crowd, Estel sought out the face of his tutor. ”Westor, will you help me get it on?” Erestor nodded and moved forward to assist the littlest Elrondion as Estel began to explain.

“’Westor and me looked all over for da bells, we searched and searched and den we found ‘em in da attic. Den we went to da tanner and he gave us some scraps and me an ‘Westor worked and worked and worked Ada. Look right here Ada…’dose are my ‘nitials’…right ‘Westor? An, an ‘dese are Affaloff’s…see?”

“Oh Estel…it is a beautiful gift, I am sure Asfaloth will get many wonderful years of use from it.”

Glorfindel then stepped forward his eyes welling with tears of emotion. “This is a most generous gift Estel, and I can see that Asfaloth loves it…the silver bells are beautiful pen neth, they suit him perfectly. He has always hated the bridle and bit, complained that it hurt his mouth; this gift is very thoughtful Estel…very thoughtful.”

“An I put da bells on…well…almost…’Westor helped too, an…an ‘Westor held my hand an I put my ‘nitials on – right ‘dere see?”

“I see, I see little one.”

“Wait…’dere’s more,” grabbing the sack Estel opened it and shook some of the contents out into his tiny hand. Asfaloth’s eyes widened in delight, for there in the child’s hand was his favorite hard sugared treat, it could only have come from the Lady Nénilya, and the horse was impressed with the circle of friends this little king had already managed to amass. Nudging the boy’s hand gently back towards his chest Asfaloth snorted then looked to Glorfindel to translate.

“Estel, I do believe he wants to share the treat with you.” The child giggled and quickly popped a piece into his mouth. Smiling at the two new friends Elladan made the pronouncement, “I think the time has come for these two to go for their ride, what say the rest of you?”

“Aye!” Glorfindel boomed. “We have waited long enough for this moment.” Reaching out his hand he continued, “Estel, come little one I will give you a hand up.” As the boy moved towards the warrior Glorfindel’s eyes grew wide, it was then that he noticed for the first time that the child had wet his pants. Now what was he to do, he wondered? He did not wish to embarrass the child in front of everyone, but he had given his word, and he could not put him aboard Asfaloth with a wet seat. Noticing Glorfindel’s distressed countenance Elrond looked into the slayer’s eyes as the warrior mouthed the words ‘he is wet’. The elf lord knew all too well what this meant, there could be no ride today; Asfaloth had already made this issue clear with Glorfindel – he would not be peed upon again, and he called Estel back to him.

“Estel…the hour grows late ion, this has been a very exciting day, and I think that Asfaloth may be tired, I am afraid we have infringed on his bed time, mayhap we should wait until the morrow for your ride.”

The El’s were just about to voice their objection when Glorfindel elbowed ‘Roh and motioned in the direction of Estel. A quick glance gave Elrohir the reason for the delay in plans, and grabbing Dan’s arm before he could speak he quietly whispered ‘wet leggings’, in his ear. The smile immediately left the elder twin’s face, as he knew this could not only be an embarrassing moment for his brother, but a serious disappointment as well. As Estel pleaded with their father that it was not too late to ride, Glorfindel whispered an explanation in Asfaloth’s ear while Elrond slowly led the now crying child away. Upon hearing the reason for the change in plans the great white horse moved quickly up the path and blocked Elrond’s passage. Each time the elf lord tried to move around him his path was further blocked. Finally, when he was sure he had his attention, the prince of horses bowed his head and lowered himself to the ground to receive Estel.

“Well,” Erestor said aloud, “it would seem that the decision has been made for you M’Lord, Estel wants to ride, and Asfaloth wants a rider.”

Smiling down at the huge animal, Elrond patted Estel on the back and acquiesced, saying, “All right little one, we shall do it today.” He lovingly positioned the child atop the horse’s back trying as best he could to arrange his little cloak so that as much of it as possible was under his bottom, Then holding Estel’s hand he bid the great horse to rise. Coming now to his full height Asfaloth waited patiently while each of the elves gave Estel some little piece of instruction. Then, as they stepped back, Glorfindel gave his faithful friend a nod and Asfaloth moved slowly and carefully up the path. Looking back at the elves, the great war horse raised his head high in the air and shook it causing the bells on his new headstall to ring. Estel was beside himself, he giggled and grinned as Glorfindel’s great mount broke into a slow canter and took him jauntily up the trail to the house. As the elves followed the boy up the path cheering him on Glorfindel turned to Erestor and said.

“Remind me to put some extra apples in his feed tonight, will you? Sometimes I forget to tell him what a truly magnificent being he is.”

“I will my love…and…” Erestor hesitated, then smiled.

“And what meleth?”

“And I will be sure to send him some of the honeysuckle soap he is so fond of…for his back.”


Chapter 21 - Oaths Sworn

Haldir, his brothers, and Ingorn accompanied Malrin and Hedrían to the healing tents at the foot of the great trees. Malrin was still shaking, each step he took brought him closer to the confrontation he was dreading. As they approached, Haldir could see Daenir pacing back and forth in front of the tent; his face was fraught with desperation and fear, his red-rimmed eyes finally focused on the approaching elves. At last they stood face to face; Malrin placed his hand over his heart and bowed respectfully to the ancient ostler, standing quietly as the old elf’s voice rang out on the night air.

“How did this happen?” he screamed at Malrin. “How could you have let this happen? Have you seen his arm? he yelled as he pointed back towards the tents. “Have you seen was has been done to him?”
Malrin drew a deep breath and tried to calm his already shaken nerves, his next words were spoken softly.

“Im dihenalin Daenir, hiraetha im, lammen na lung as naeth. (I beg your forgiveness Daenir, I am sorry; my tongue is heavy with grief). I know not how to say the words…it is my fault, I was not vigilant, I allowed the lad to go alone to hunt and he was attacked; I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Sorry?” "You are sorry,” he shouted, “the healers tell me that they have never seen an injury of this kind – never in all of their years. Pengûr is 2000 years old and Filgail twice that, not even Celeborn has seen the like of it…my son may lose his arm…and even if he does not, the flesh is useless. Do you know what that means? Do you?" he screamed. "It means he will not wish to continue here in Arda, it means he will sail, or worse – he will fade, it means that his life here…our lives here are over, for I will not abandon him to this grief – to live alone through this devilry. What have you to say for yourself? He was your charge, what say you? For I would hear your explanation of how you have allowed this foul deed to come to pass. Speak!”

Malrin stood speechless, tears of remorse and grief flowed freely down his cheeks. In that moment he knew Haldir to be right – there were no words that would make things easier, none that could assuage his guilt. Dropping to one knee he bowed his head and gave Daenir the only answer he could.

“Master Daenir my words, though heartfelt, can only sound like the pittering of rain upon the leaves of the trees in this your hour of grief. The blame for Andras’ injury is planted firmly at my feet, for t’was I who sent him into the wilderness alone to hunt. I should have been more cautious, and for that lack in judgment nothing will stop the weeping of my heart until such time as he is well and whole. For I swear to you this day, Na Aear a Geil, (By the Sea and Stars), Na Belain! (By the Valar). I shall not rest until the maker of this witchcraft lies dead at my feet, until this wizardry is lifted from Andras’ Fëa. I swear this oath to you by all that I hold dear, by all that I am – by the blood of my fathers I will see it done.”

It was then that Haldir stepped forward and addressed the old ostler, “I too add my voice to this oath Daenir, for as this enemy has harmed one of us he has harmed all of us. This act will not go unpunished.”

Rúmil and Orophin moved to stand beside their brother adding their sentiments to the pledge.
“Our brother speaks for us as well,” Rúmil intoned. “Know that by whatever power we have within us we will fight to bring you justice, Andras will be avenged.”

“Aye iauron , (ancient one) ” said Orophin, “Rest assured we will find the answer to this spell, and the caster will repent the day he drew breath and sought to befoul one of the firstborn.”

“These too are my thoughts,” said Celeborn as he stepped from the healer’s tent. “For never in all my days in Arda have my eyes beheld such as this. We are befuddled, the healers and I, as to how this wickedness could have been done. There is naught to think of but a spell, only someone of great power could have achieved such a thing.”

“My lord,” said Daenir “what of Andras, what of my son, will he heal?”

“Would that I could tell you what you wish to hear meldir, but I cannot speak those words with certainty. The herbs that Elwaith brought from Rohan have helped, but only to keep the limb from further withering, we believe if the arm is kept sheathed in the soaked herbs it will prevent the skin from further drying, but it is all we have been able to do. My Lady has gone to her mirror and sees only that we must send Andras to Elrond along with the herbs; there is a ripple of hope in what she sees, that he may be able to stem this affliction – perhaps even to turn the tide in our favor. However, she senses that there are other powers at play; that this drama has yet to completely unfold. For this reason I have decided that Andras will be sent to Elrond; Haldir, you and your brothers along with Malrin and a small party of warriors will accompany him.”

“Then I will go as well,” Daenir, responded.

Celeborn’s response was quick and firm, and left no room for argument. “No my friend, you must stay here, for the Lady has foreseen that Andras’ recovery would be hampered by your presence.”

The great elf Lord slowly approached his old friend with outstretched arms, enveloping Daenir in a strong embrace he then spoke more softly.

“Hear me now old friend, you are frightened, as would be expected. However, the Lady has foreseen that your fear and confusion will create serious misgivings in regard to Andras’ treatment. Lord Elrond and his staff will have their hands full trying to find a solution to combat this condition, your presence will only create situations of second-guessing, and conflict. Hear me Daenir, for even I must place my pride aside, and bow to the fact that Elrond Half-Elven is the best healer in Arda, your son could not be in better hands.”

Releasing Daenir he then turned and spoke again to Haldir.

“March Warden, you will assemble a traveling party that will include Malrin, your brothers, Ingorn, Timagol, and Elwaith. You will lead them to Imladris, to the House of Elrond, where you will present yourselves into his service; you will stay in Imladris for as long as Elrond deems necessary, and you will do whatever you are called upon to do to further Andras’ recovery.”

Haldir bowed placing his hand over his heart and answered, “Yes My Lord Celeborn.”

“Prepare to leave as soon as the healers have the lad ready to move.”

“As you will My Lord.” Turning then to Daenir, Celeborn spoke again. “Come my friend, Andras has regained consciousness, he has been asking for you.”

With that, the two ancient elves slowly began walking back to the healer’s tent, as they went, Daenir turned and gave Malrin one last fleeting look. The glance was brief but it spoke volumes, and Malrin knew in that instant that he had been forgiven. Daenir was many things, but first and foremost, he was an elf, and he could no more hold his heart hardened against Malrin than he could against his own son. That was the way of elves. They loved fiercely, and they protected their own; and in his heart Daenir knew that Malrin would have given his life if it meant that Andras could have come safely home. In that moment when their eyes met, Malrin felt as if the weight of Arda had been lifted from his shoulders.

Slowly he got to his feet and again placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head in respect to the elder elf. Daenir inclined his head briefly in response. It was done then. Forgiveness had been asked and granted, and for the first time that day Malrin breathed a sigh of relief. But as relieved as he was, he knew that this was just the beginning; the beginning of a journey that would take them far from home, from family and friends, and possibly into danger; danger unlike anything any of them had ever faced.


Chapter 22 - Promises Kept

For the next 20 minutes Asfaloth briskly cantered up and down the path to the main house with the little king of men astride his back. Estel was giddy with delight as he took his ride on the magnificent white stallion. Each step that the great horse took caused the silver bells on his new headstall to ring as if announcing his arrival and the horse could not have been more pleased. Asfaloth, like his master, loved being the center of attention, and the silver bells accomplished that wonderfully as every head turned to watch him pass. The great horse and the small boy caused quite a commotion as each elf along the way stopped to ooh and ahh. Hearing the ruckus from the door to his balcony, Cilinwë came out to investigate, and was shocked to see the littlest Elrondion sitting high aback the most ornery steed in Imladris. Spying his hero, Estel, toothy grin testifying to his delight, waved, and shouted to the Sword Master…

“’Linwë! Look ‘Linwë I ridin’ Affaloff!”

“So I see young Master, and doing a fine job of it as well!” he called back.

Estel just grinned all the more. Cilinwë had seen him riding…he thought he would just bust! As the horse grew closer to the front door he slowed to a walk allowing the adults to catch up to him. Glorfindel and Elrond were the first ones to his side, both beaming like silly maidens.

“Did you see Ada…did you see? I rode Affaloff, an I wussin’ even scared, did you see?”

The elf lord was literally beaming, as proud this day of Estel as he was the day he put the twins upon the backs of their first horses.

“Oh Estel,” he gushed, “I am so proud of you son, you did a fine job, and you controlled Asfaloth beautifully…did he not Glorfindel?”

“I say Estel, I definitely made the right choice for a new rider, you did a wonderful job tithen pen…and without a bridle or bit! Well done Estel, well done!”

“Excellent work little brother!” Elrohir chimed in.

“Aye Estel, Roh and I did not do nearly as well when we took our first ride…did we Roh?”

“I should say you did not,” added Erestor, “as I recall you cried the entire time and Elrohir joined you in sympathy.”

Glorfindel stood at Asfaloth’s head; gently he stroked the horse’s muzzle and whispered in his ear…

“Thank you old friend, you have made many people very happy this day, most especially Estel, and I shall not soon forget it.”

The great horse just snorted and shook his head, causing the bells on his headstall to ring. All in all it had been a fine day, he had received a wonderful gift, turned a king into a friend, and truth be told…wet seat or not the boy was a natural, he would make a fine horseman one day, Asfaloth was sure of it.

~~~

As the family gathered round, Elrond reached up to take Estel down from the horse and was met with immediate protest from the little rider.

“Do I hafta get down nowww Ada? Affaloff and me are just gettin’ ‘quainted,” then he turned to his tutor for confirmation saying, “right ‘Westor?”

The counselor could only smile, so proud he was of the little one’s accomplishment that he was hesitant to correct him…

“That is a-quainted, Estel, ‘A’-quainted.”

“Right…Affaloff and me are gettin’ A-quainted Ada, do I hafta get down now?”

“Remember little one,” Elrond whispered, “it is close to Asfaloth’s bedtime, you would not want to keep him up and make him cranky would you?” “Besides, remember what I taught you about being a good guest?”

Estel thought hard for a moment and then came up with the answer.

“A good guest never over…over?”

“Over stays,” Elrond supplied.

“Yeth, thas it, a good guest never over stays his welcome.”

“And why is that?” Elrond asked as he lifted Estel and positioned him in his arms.

“So you can visit again!” Estel shouted, as the reasoning found form in his head.

“Will I visit again Ada? Glorfy may I visit again, pwese Glorfy?”

Having learned his lesson about making promises for others, Glorfindel replied…

“Why do we not ask Asfaloth? What say you Asfaloth; may Estel come and visit with you again?”

The great stallion whinnied loudly and bobbed his head ringing his much-prized headstall.

“I think that is a resounding ‘Yes’, Estel. It is done then, Asfaloth agrees, and you may come and visit with him again.”

Estel bounced in his father’s arms, thrilled with this new arrangement.

“Yea!” he called out as he clapped his little hands. “Did you hear Ada? I get to visit Affaloff again!”

“Yes pen neth, I heard…now suppose you bid good eve to Asfaloth so we can get you all cleaned up and ready for the evening meal?”

At that moment Erestor cleared his throat drawing everyone’s attention. Looking at Estel he inclined his head slightly in Asfaloth’s direction and gave Estel a look that said ‘are you not forgetting something?’ The child caught on immediately and set about making things right. Placing his hand over his heart he bowed his head and said…

“T’sank you Affaloff for my ride, I had a good time, an…an,” and then it dawned on him, “an you were a pleasure!

Dan and Roh nearly doubled over with laughter, their little brother was truly one of a kind. As small as he was, he didn’t forget anything that could garner him favor with another. Roh elbowed Elladan in the ribs saying…”He will be using that one for a while brother.”

Erestor spoke up quickly between fits of uncharacteristic chuckling. “Do not dare tease your brother; at least he has remembered his manners. As I recall the two of you slid from the backs of your horses, joined hands, and ran screaming from the paddock, thanking no one.”

“Oh, oh, and do not forget Erestor,” Glorfindel quipped, “the way I heard it, once they reached the house they barricaded themselves in their room and refused to come out unless their father promised to find smaller horses…no one bothered to mention that the little ponies they were riding were the smallest horses in three kingdoms!”

“All right, all right,” Elrond said laughingly, “enough, enough. Estel has made his thank you’s, and now I think it is time to get him inside and cleaned up.” Then turning to the twins he added, “and as for you two, follow Colwandë and Asfaloth back to the stables, you may have the privilege of washing Asfaloth down and making sure he has his feed while the rest of us retire to the house . Come Estel, you have had a very busy day; it is time for your bubbles.”

As Erestor, Glorfindel and Elrond strode into the house Estel was still chattering non-stop.

“I did a good job dinna I Ada? An.. an.. did you see me turn Affaloff ‘round? I held on real tight just like you told me Glorfy…but I dinna pull Affaloff’s hair . An I ‘membered my manners just like you said ‘Westor. I had a good time today Ada…can we do it again tomorrow? Can ‘Linwë come next time? Did Dan and Roh really run and hide in dere room? I dinna hide, Ima big boy right Ada?”

Elrond slowly stroked the dark curly locks away from the boy’s face and kissed him gently on his forehead as they entered the Last Homely House.

“Yes my little love…You are indeed a very big boy.”


Chapter 23 - Bragging Rights and Lullabies

As Lord Elrond searched through Estel’s chiffonier looking for his nightshirt, the littlest Elrondion splashed merrily in the bathing pool. Warm water from the underground springs flowed freely from the open spigot and Estel delighted in watching the bubbles in the water spring into life. Like most little boys, the child was almost always reticent to bathe, but once in the pool it was near impossible to get him out; there was something wondrous about splashing water all over a room and not getting in trouble for it. As he played in the water he began to sing a children’s song taught to him by his favorite teacher, Erestor. But somehow in the middle of a verse, the song suddenly changed to one that was somewhat less favored by Erestor or Elrond. Estel, much to his father’s chagrin, was now singing a particularly ribald Dwarven drinking song.

"Dere once was a Lay-dee who slipped in to Mor-i-a
Her bid-ness dere was un-told
Da Dwarves dey a-dored her
Loved and per-sued her
Wit’ dwar–ven men she was bold…"

“Estel!”

“Yeth Ada?”

“Where in the world did you hear such a song, wait, let me guess – your brothers sang it for you?”

“How did you know Ada? Ro and Dan taught me allll da words, wanna hear da rest?”

“No!” the Elven Lord shouted, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Whas the matter Ada, don’ you like da song? Estel innocently questioned. "Roh said all da dwarves sing it to da liddle dwarves to put them to sleep at night. Iss a lull-a–by.”

“Your brothers told you that song was a lullaby?”

“Yeth.”

The ancient Lord had to bite his tongue as he prepared to speak to Estel; after all, it was not the little one’s fault if he had two derelict reprobates as his role models. Elladan and Elrohir would get the dressing down of their lives when he caught up with them. How dare they teach his laes (baby) that unconscionable song! Oh yes, Colwandë would get a nice respite from his duties, for he would have those two miscreants mucking out the stables for the next five years as punishment for their behavior.

“Estel, I want you to promise me that you will never sing that song again, all right?”

“Why not Ada, whas wrong with da song? Don’ you like it?”

“Estel…please pen neth, this song…” he struggled for the right words to use…

“This song is not a lullaby pen neth…it is a grown-up song, a VERY grown-up song, and not something that a good little boy would sing…your brothers should have never taught it to you.”

“Iss a bad song Ada?” Estel asked incredulously.

“It is a bad song for little boys pen neth. I think your brothers were trying to play a jest on me…did they tell you to sing it for me?”

“Dey said I should practice it Ada, dey said if I got weally weally good at it dey would let me sing it in da Hall of Fire.”

“I see.”

Estel’s face took on a look of sudden sadness, as he looked up with water soaked lashes, “I not gonna sing in da Hall am I Ada?”

Elrond smiled gently at the child, the boy so much wanted to be like everyone else, it angered him that the twins had unthinkingly used Estel to play a joke on Imladris’ residents, and now the boy was disheartened to find that he would not be allowed to sing in the Hall like everyone else. Perhaps 5 years cleaning the stables was not enough…10 would be more appropriate, after all they were elves, 5 years to an elf was nothing!

“How about this…what if I teach you a different song, a better song, and you can sing that in the hall?

“Woud you Ada, woud you teach me a song I can sing for evva one?”

“I would be delighted to Melyanna, I will teach you a song my Naneth taught me when I was very, very young. My brother and I used to sing it to each other all the time," he said wistfully.

“You have a brudder Ada? I dinna know you have a brudder; whas his name? Where is he Ada, can I meet ‘em?”

Elrond momentarily paused; the truth had come out of his mouth before he thought, and he had not anticipated having to answer such sensitive questions. Elros had been gone for over a thousand years, and yet the pain in his heart was still fresh, as if he had gone only yesterday. The ancient elf thought carefully and weighed his words cautiously. He knew that sometimes answering a question for Estel only elicited more questions, and he did not think he was up to it emotionally. Understanding the child as he did, he knew Estel was not one to hurt others or persist in making them sad, so he sat on the edge of the pool with his tired bare feet in the warm soapy water, and answered slowly.

“It is not something that I like to talk about tithen pen, because it makes me very sad to think on it. I am afraid you will not be able to meet my brother Elros because he is no longer with us; he died many, many years ago. I truly wish that you could have met him Melyanna; I know that he would have loved you just as I do.”

Estel stood up in the pool and despite his dripping form placed his arms around his father’s neck and gave him a tight squeeze. Crawling up onto his father’s lap he gave Elrond a mushy kiss on the cheek, and softly patted his father on the back offering his sympathy.

“Don’ be sad Ada,” the little one said “just t’ink about all da good times…all da nice t’ings you did wit’ him…like singing.” “Teach me da song Ada, ‘den I can sing it wit’ you like El-wose did, den you won’ be sad any more.”

Elrond was hard pressed to argue with the child’s logic. Over the many years following his brother’s death he’d found that he was most at peace when he thought of the wonderful and sometimes foolish things the two of them did in their youth. Often, when he was alone in his chambers or walking at night in Celebrían’s gardens he would sing that song, and discovered that the worries of the day seem lifted from his shoulders. As Elrond looked at the child, the immense sadness he felt in his heart was reflected in his eyes; as hard as he tried he could not conceal it and Estel noticed it immediately.

“Don’ be sad Ada,” the little one chided. Patting his father gently on the cheek he added, “I know how to make you smile Ada…I make you feel better.” Squirming over from his father’s lap he scurried away, standing just out of his father’s reach. With his little bottom still dripping from the bath he graced his father with a huge smile and yelled, “Catch me Ada! I bet you cannot catch me!” and then went racing towards the door of his bedchamber naked as the day he came into Arda. Elrond was caught completely off guard; Estel had his hand on the door latch before the ancient elf could get his bearings, and rise from the side of the pool to chase the little one down.

“Estel Elrondion do not dare go out into that hallway!” he yelled after his naked prey. But Estel was off and running. Through the door and down the corridor he ran; laughing and giggling at his father’s shocked expression, and his own nakedness. Quickly grabbing a drying cloth from the peg on the wall Elrond chased after him, occasionally slipping on the wet footprints Estel left in his wake, and nearly tripping over his own robes. Down the corridor the two went, Estel ducking and dodging with Elrond trying, and losing, the battle to maintain his dignity, while he tracked the little naked demon through the house. As Estel reached the top of the stairs he ran headlong into Erestor’s knees. The stunned Seneschal stood aghast as Estel stopped and bowed, then ran around him and headed for the stairs, yelling over his shoulder as he went “Mae go-van-nen ‘Westor!”

As Elrond rounded the corner he shouted at Erestor “Catch him! Do not let him get past you!” But it was too late, Estel was gone and to Elrond’s shock it looked as if the child was headed for the front door. Erestor whipped around and made a grab for the tiny naked hell raiser but alas, he was not fast enough, and Estel just squeaked past his grasp. Unfortunately for the Seneschal, the quick turn and lunge left him off balance, and he landed on his stomach on the stone floor.

Elrond, who had been coming fast, had just enough time to gather his robes up and away from his feet as he was forced to jump over the now prone counselor. Landing with catlike agility on the stairs he looked on in horror as Estel’s little backside disappeared out the front door. Taking the steps two at a time Elrond could hear the loud laughter of male voices mingled with Estel’s hysterical giggles outside the door. Just as the elf lord reached the bottom of the stairs, he looked up to see Cilinwë entering the portal with Estel draped under his left arm like a sack of grain – bottom side facing forward, face towards the door as Estel enthusiastically waved good-bye to the elves that remained outside . Trying hard to conceal his laughter Cilinwë gracefully placed his hand over his heart and bowed slightly to Elrond, “My Lord…I believe you…misplaced this.” Biting the inside of his cheek to help maintain a straight face Cilinwë handed over the squirming bundle under his arm. Elrond, face flushed from traversing the stairs so quickly wrapped the drying cloth around the giggling little Adan child.

“Hannon le Cilinwë,” the elf lord said breathlessly as he positioned the still squirming child in his arms.

“As you can see, he can sometimes be a handful.”

“Yes my Lord,” Cilinwë replied as he glanced up at Erestor who was still lying on the floor at the head of the stairs. “I can see that sometimes even the best of us ‘fall’ under Estel’s spell.”

Following Cilinwë’s stare Elrond could not help but smile at the inelegant condition of his chief counselor. Erestor was only now picking himself up off the floor and Elrond’s grin was all Estel needed to see.

“See Ada, I told you I could make you smile.”

The Master of the house tried to take on a stern demeanor but failed miserably, “Yes…well…mayhaps next time you will endeavor to do it with your clothes on,” he huffed.

But Estel was not fooled, grinning he leaned back away from his father and rubbed both hands across his tummy. “But Ada, you know I cannot make a funny with my clothes on. Did you like chasing me Ada? I was weally fast wassen I Ada, wanna do it again?”

“No!” chimed the three elves almost simultaneously. Surprised at the forcefulness of their declaration the three looked from one to the other, then finally Elrond spoke calmly.

“No, Estel I do not think that a repeat performance is necessary at this time; from the sound of that laughter outside it would seem that half of Imladris has been introduced to your unique brand of humor…I think that will be enough for one day.”

“A’right Ada, if you say so. I made you smile dinna I Ada?” the little one said as he placed his forehead up against his father’s.

Elrond could hold it in no longer, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling he released a belly laugh that could be heard from one end of the hallway to the other. Tickling the boy under his arm he finally admitted the truth.

“Yes you did you little imp, you made your old Ada feel quite silly today,” he said laughing.

“You not old Ada…are you? You don’ look old Ada, not like Gandy, Ada is not old is he ‘Linwë?

“You had better not let Gandalf hear you call him old little one, it would not be polite…you might hurt his feelings.”

Estel thought about this statement for a moment then commented, “You right Ada, I woo’nt want to hurt Gandy…I like Gandy, he makes da sky light up! I better not say that again right Ada?”

“Right.”

“Ada will you teach me the song now?” the child asked as his father continued to wrap him in the cloth as he headed up the stairs.

“Yes Melyanna, I will teach you the song.” And so it was, that as he reached the top of the stairs he began to sing the gentle lullaby to the clever little babe in his arms.


Chapter 24 - Treachery Discovered

Two weeks later…

The sleepy settlement of South Gundabad was just quieting for the night. The small village that consisted of five families was situated north of the Gladden Fields and just east of the Misty Mountains. Five women began preparing their evening meals as an assortment of mischievous children played outside their doors. Five husbands ended their day in the fields, and turned their teams of horses and oxen towards their various barns and paddocks. Numerous smaller farm animals were herded into their enclosures for the night by the older children, as the little ones chased the chickens around the barnyard, and in the trees one set of gold-flecked eyes sat watching.

As the night drew on, the music of a fiddle could be heard coming from one of the homes, while the sweet scent of apple pie wafted on the air from a second. The wailing of an exceptionally spoiled baby was heard coming from the third, while the agitated voice of a farmer with too much drink could be heard from another. Lastly, the sounds of children laughing as they entertained themselves in front of the hearth with a game of tiddly-winks was heard from the fifth shanty, and in the trees a pair of acutely tuned ears listened.

As the moon climbed higher into the night sky five families began to turn in for the evening. Five mothers bid their children goodnight and five fathers extinguished the lamps and settled themselves under well-worn blankets, and under the cover of darkness, evil left the trees and drew closer to its prey.
~~~

The journey from Lórien had been grueling; it was necessary to keep Andras heavily sedated and it was slow going for they did not wish to do anything that would jostle the young elf too much. The company of elves was quiet, each lost in his own thoughts; they hoped the trip would be uneventful; the last thing they needed with Andras in such a delicate condition was to have to defend themselves against an enemy. Haldir rode point, and as always was ever vigilant; his brothers Orophin and Rúmil flanked the riders as Ingorn drove the cart that carried Andras. Elwaith sat in the cart beside the lad tending him as best he could, while Timagol and Malrin brought up the rear. Seven strong and determined elves; determined to get Andras safely to Imladris and deliver him into the capable hands of Lord Elrond, and they would allow nothing and no one to get in their way. The oath they swore was still fresh in their minds as the early morning light revealed the sleepy settlement to their keen eyesight.

Haldir raised his fist in the air, silently bringing the party to a halt. Motioning the others to gather round the cart he informed them of what he saw before them.

“There is a small settlement ahead, we are running low on water; it is my thought that we might be able to replenish our supplies here…provided that the humans are willing.”

Elwaith spoke up agreeing with Haldir’s assessment saying, “We must secure more water, it is still a long way to the Anduin tributary, and we have used a lot of water keeping Andras’ arm hydrated. We also need more water for his medicines…”

“And for the horses,” Ingorn added, “the animals cannot go much longer without drink.” “We will have to obtain as much as we can before we head into the mountains, water there will truly be scarce.”

Again Haldir spoke. “It is decided then…we will first scout the village, see if we can determine whether the settlers are friendly to our kind or if we should keep moving . Orophin, Rúmil and I will see what we can find, the rest of you stay here out of sight. If there is any trouble stay hidden; we will lead them away from you.”

Malrin made to speak but Haldir cut him off, “I know what you would say gwador, do not worry for our safety, we can take care of ourselves. There cannot be that many of them to begin with for there are only five huts. If we encounter any trouble we will lead them away from the rest of you, if necessary we will eliminate them…hopefully it will not come to that, with luck we will retrieve the water and be on our way without incident. In any event we will retrieve the water, we have no other option.”

With hand signals practiced over hundreds of years of service in the Golden Wood, he soundlessly sent his brothers on foot to the left and right circling the village, as he dismounted and stealthily approached through the field that sat directly in front of them.

As the three elves approached the huts they could see no movement. Haldir noted that although it was well past sunrise there was no smoke coming from any of the chimneys, smoke that would indicate that a family might be up breaking their fast and preparing for the day. He also noticed that the animals, particularly the cows, were still in their enclosure; they had not been turned out into the fields to graze, and more importantly the animals were ‘lowing’, indicating the need to be milked. As Rúmil circled the furthest building he could see that the goats and hogs were still confined, and separated from their feeding troughs. He knew that no farmer worth his salt would leave his animals in this state, not if he was able to prevent it, and it immediately put him on alert… something was wrong here, very wrong.

Orophin too could sense something amiss. He unslung his bow preparing to defend himself as he inched closer to the nearest building. Easing up to the side of the house he listened carefully, trying to hear any noises, conversation or activity from inside; he heard none. Daring closer observation, Orophin took a quick peek into a window at the back of the house; a window that gave a view of a bedroom, and what he saw shocked and terrified him.

There lying on the bed were bodies that looked to be that of two children, but it was hard to tell what they were, as the bodies were so emaciated it was difficult to determine if they were even real. Sprawled on the floor near the door lay another, from the clothing it must have been a woman, shriveled and wrinkled, skin blackened as though dipped in dye, hair bone white, the face shrunken and withered beyond recognition.

Orophin pulled back from the window in shock, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart racing; quickly he looked around, eyes searching the nearby tall grass for any signs of the enemy. Hearing a sound to his right he quickly turned bringing his bow to bear, only to look into the frightened eyes of his brother Rúmil.

“Orophin! Come quickly, bodies…there are bodies everywhere, come…hurry!”

Following his brother to the front of the house they found Haldir exiting the shanty next door. The Galadhel slowly backed out of the door, eyes glued on the sight he still could not believe. So shocked was he that he didn’t even turn as he spoke. In a voice just above a whisper he gave his orders.

“Take the water skins to the well and fill them…do not tarry. Get as much water as you can as quickly as you can – turn the animals out as you go…we must be away from this place, there is evil here the like of which I have not seen since the dawning of Mordor. Hurry! Go!”

His brothers turned and ran with all haste towards the well, as they ran Haldir re-entered the house. Finding an apron hanging across the back of a chair he grabbed it and wrapped it around a piece of tinder from the wood box. Using the makeshift torch, he stirred the dying embers in the fireplace until they began to kindle, igniting the apron. Grabbing an oil lamp he doused the room with oil and set it afire. Moving then to the other houses he set them ablaze one by one and quickly ran from the clearing. Finally reaching their friends they waved off the astonished looks as Haldir ordered them to move out.

“There will be time for answers later; let us make haste, I do not wish to be found here by anyone who sees the smoke.”

As they began to ride away Rúmil turned to his brother and asked, “Haldir? How many were there?”

“Seventeen…I counted ten and seven before I could look no more.”

“Haldir? They were all like Andras were they not?”

“Yes Rúmil, they were.” Looking back over his shoulder at the now fully engulfed village Haldir continued, “That is what he would have become had Malrin not reached him when he did.” He turned then, facing forward and reined his horse towards the mountains.

“Do not look back Rúmil; do not let the evil sit in your eyes or in your heart. Prepare yourself brother; we are at war, and the enemy is not taking prisoners.”


Chapter 25 - Red Horn Pass

The journey up the eastern slopes of the misty mountains was tough going; and on more than one occasion the elves had to bring the traveling party to a halt and carry Andras for his safety. When the path became narrower and narrower they removed him from the cart and used a handmade litter; the closer they got to the summit it became obvious that it was simply too risky to allow Andras and Elwaith to continue riding, or to leave the cart attached to the horses. They unhitched the small vehicle from the animals and began pushing it along by hand while Timagol carried the injured elf.
Haldir worried that if the path became slippery or the ground gave way under foot that the cart might pull the horses over the side of the mountain; so they took turns, first with the litter and when that became impossible, carrying him in their arms. It was tedious work, but none complained. They were in this together; they were all of one mind, one purpose; to get their friend to Imladris. Their goal was close at hand as they neared the western exit of Red Horn Pass – the gateway to the Western slopes and an easy descent.

As the sky darkened to eventide, Haldir called the bedraggled, exhausted elves to a halt. Calling out to Orophin he instructed his brother to scout ahead and find a suitable place to rest for the night. Ingorn drew two blankets from the cart and positioned them on the ground while Timagol gingerly laid Andras down. The young elf had been heavily sedated for the majority of the trip, but he was conscious now, and although the pain was somewhat diminished the lad was still extremely distressed. When he initially awoke in the healing tents he’d caught sight of his arm, and seeing the extent of the injury had nearly caused him to fade. It was only through Lord Celeborn’s quick thinking that the young elf’s life was saved. Celeborn, observing Andras’ shock and revulsion, immediately sent the elf into the reverie of a healing sleep. Once under the great elf lord’s control, Celeborn set about making a mental connection with the young elf, and slowly brought him back from the brink of death with promises of Elrond’s healing power.

Elwaith, who had been tending Andras during the cart ride, sat beside the pain-wracked elf and tried to sooth him. Whispering a calming chant to the young one, Elwaith could, at this moment, only wish that he had the skills of his Lord Celeborn; he so wanted to ease Andras’ fear but for the time being all he could do was hydrate the wounded arm with the herb potion and pray for their speedy arrival in Imladris.

Orophin returned quickly, and reported finding a small sward (a grassy area) a short distance ahead. Haldir ordered the main body of the troop to bivouac there, saying that he and Elwaith would follow with Andras as soon as the lad had a chance to catch his breath. As the others set up camp, Haldir and Elwaith knelt beside Andras offering comfort and support.

“It will not be long now Andras,” Haldir said softly, “in a few short hours we will be in Imladris and you will be under Lord Elrond’s extraordinary care.” “He will take good care of you ‘Dras, I am confident that he will find a cure for your injury. We must have faith dear friend, just hold on a little longer.” Bowing his head he placed his hand on the elf’s forehead and sent a prayer to the Valar.

“Beleg Belain anna Elrond bellas an nesta sen beren maethor.” (Mighty Valar give Elrond strength to heal this bold warrior.)

Andras appreciated Haldir’s confidence, but he could not say that his own was as strong. He’d seen his arm twice now, the night of the attack and again days later in the healing tents. The sight had repulsed him. He knew not how anything born of Middle Earth could make an injury like the one he now bore. The hideousness of it was too much for him to look upon. So much so, that he often found himself struggling with Elwaith and the others when they attempted to tend the arm.

'Arm?' he laughingly thought, if you could still even call it that. As far as he was concerned it was anything but that. An arm is something alive, red blood pulsing through it, an arm is something strong and useful, something you wrap around your father’s shoulders or the waist of your favorite elleth. No, this was not an arm; rather, it was a grotesque misshapened appendage that could not possibly belong to an elf.

The Firstborn were beautiful; even the humans in all their ignorance could not deny it. There was nothing beautiful in this thing attached to his body. It was an abomination; he was an abomination, an abomination better left to the wargs or the orcs. How could he subject anyone to look upon it, when he himself could not stomach it? There then was the truth of it; he could not, he would not. He would not put another elf in the position of having to look upon the withered shell that once held so much strength. He would end it, here in the mountains before they reached Imladris. He would not have the Lord of Imladris look upon him in pity as his friends now did. He would not. He would wait for darkness, and he would end it while they slept.


Chapter 26 - My Life is My Own

As the traveling party made camp for the night, Elwaith helped Andras to get comfortable, or as comfortable as could be expected. Elwaith had been the Chief Herbalist and Master of Lórien’s apothecary for over eight hundred and fifty years, a position that he had worked hard to obtain. After centuries of apprenticeship the old apothecary-master Beregnas, decided that the sea called to him, and before sailing to the undying lands, he recommended Elwaith as his successor.

Lord Celeborn had been somewhat surprised that Beregnas had given his vote of confidence to an elf who was so ‘young’; at only 2315 years of age Elwaith was the youngest apprentice under Master Beregnas’ charge. Nevertheless, the old master assured the great lord that Elwaith, although young, was the most talented of his peers; he had a ‘gift’ for healing and on many occasions had come up with unique and unconventional potions. His affinity with herbs was known throughout the realm and he was single-handedly responsible for identifying and cataloging more than 150 herbs and plants during his time with Beregnas. The talented elf had gone on to prove his mentor correct; he was indeed the right one for the task.

As the elves settled in for the night Andras sat propped against a fallen tree, cradling his afflicted appendage even tighter against his body than normal. Haldir had just assigned the sentry positions and Timagol, Malrin, and Rúmil had been given the first watch. Andras sat quietly watching as the evening meal was prepared. He could tell by the nagging ache in his shoulder that Elwaith would soon approach him and bring his evening sedative; he thanked the Valar that the elf was not only a caring and efficient healer, but punctual. Soon he would put his plan into motion and rid his fine compatriots of his disgusting presence. 'They will grieve,' he thought to himself, 'but tis better this way, better for all of us'.

Thoughts now drifted to his father and the effect this would have on him. He regretted that his actions would undoubtedly cause his father to sail; and in that second, the selfishness of the act he considered near brought him to tears. However, the second passed swiftly, and again his thoughts returned to the abhorrent appendage still attached to his otherwise perfect body. For a moment he recalled their ancient ancestors; the days of Maedhros and his plight on Thangorodrim, the Mountains of Tyranny. He wondered now how the son of Fëanor found the courage to continue, maimed as he was…his hand severed by his own kin in a last ditch effort to save his life.

“Maedhros had Fingon,” he reflected, “and his brother Maglor.”

“But are these here assembled not as your brothers?" the tiny voice inside his head questioned. "Do they not seek to rescue you as Fingon rescued Maedhros?”

He lowered his head and quickly covered his eyes, as the shame of what he contemplated shone brightly behind his closed lids. “How can I do this to them? They have come all this way, tended me, and even now; they protect me still.”

His eyes fell upon Haldir who effortlessly went about his chores, and Elwaith, diminutive for an elf, yet still so graceful and beautiful. He watched as Orophin settled on his pallet drawing a blanket around his broad shoulders to stave off the chill dampness of the mountain air, while his friend Ingorn – steadfast Ingorn, so like Rúmil; quick to smile, quicker still with a bow, stirred the pot of vegetable stew he’d so carefully prepared for their evening meal. These were his friends, who else would have carried him mile after exhausting mile up treacherous paths so narrow that even a goat would have had trouble traversing them?

Who else would have held him so gently, refusing to allow his battered body to experience so much as one unnecessary moment of discomfort or pain? As he looked now to the trees, he could just barely see the back of Timagol’s tunic, so well hidden had the elf made himself in the branches. “Timagol…” whose strong arms had carried him with ease, as if he were still an elfling in swaddling clothes.
He thought then of Rúmil’s oath, and the vow that was sworn before his father, “Know that by whatever power we have within us we will fight to bring you justice; Andras will be avenged.”

‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘I have no doubt that I will be avenged…but vengeance will not give me back my arm’.
At last his eyes searched the trees for Malrin…Malrin who had warned him to stay away from that god-forsaken forest. Malrin, who had risked his life entering that evil place to bring him out alive – however damaged he might be. Malrin, whose guilt and anguish was almost palpable; ‘This will be hardest on him’, he thought.

“In time mayhaps he will come to understand why I must do what I must do. Ever has he cared for and protected our people, he is blameless in this,” he said under his breath as he looked again at his lifeless arm. “I will not suffer an elf so great as he to look upon me one moment longer than is necessary. Better that I end it now and allow these good elves to return to their homes and families.” And with that thought firmly in his head he beckoned Elwaith to him with the lie that could seal all their fates, “Elwaith, my arm torments me…would you make the potion for me again?”


Chapter 27 - The Enemy Amongst Us

Elwaith jumped at the chance to be of comfort to Andras; quickly he grabbed his herb satchel and moved to the young elf’s side. “It will be just a moment Andras; I must get the mortar and pestle and boil some water. Is the pain bad?” he asked as he set the herb bag down next to the lad and then moved to prepare the kettle.

“It plagues me Waith, it will not let me rest…and I am so weary – I just want to take the medicine and go straight to sleep.”

The comment stopped Elwaith in his tracks, and he returned and knelt at his friend’s side. He thought Andras’ request to be somewhat odd, and out of character, considering that throughout their journey Andras had distained of taking the potion at all. The mixture, though helpful, was foul of taste and often Andras had struggled with them as they tried to hold him still while Elwaith forced the elixir into his mouth. For him to willingly request it now was odd indeed.

“All right my friend,” he said as he gently placed his hand on the lad’s good shoulder, “I will be quick.”

Returning to the fire Elwaith enlisted Haldir’s help with the preparation of the drug.

“Haldir, would you be so kind as to lend your help with Andras?”

The March Warden immediately put his supper down, and looking to Elwaith responded; "Of course, I would be happy to, what do you need me to do?”

Handing him the mortar Waith asked, "If you could muddle the herbs while I prepare a comfortable place for him to sleep…”

“I can prepare his pallet,” Orophin chimed in, wanting to help.

“Thank you ‘Phin, if you could take care of that then I can make the hydrating liquid for his arm while Haldir makes the sedative.”

The three elves set to work going about their tasks good-naturedly; but while they worked, Andras worked on a task of his own. With Elwaith turned away from him, and Haldir focused on crushing the herbs, Andras slipped a small pouch from Elwaith’s satchel. The pouch was clearly marked, ‘Cowbane’, a very poisonous plant, internal use quite often led to a painful death if the herb was not mixed in the proper dosages. The symptoms were cramps, hallucinations, and eventually paralysis of the respiratory organs, but despite the dangers, this herb, in a diluted form, was used as a painkiller and also as a remedy for epilepsy. In the wrong hands it was deadly, and it was exactly what Andras wanted. As the others worked, he secreted the small pouch in the top of his boot, then sat back and waited for Elwaith.

As the healer worked, Haldir glanced in the direction of their patient, leaning over he whispered in Elwaith’s ear; the elf nodded his understanding and quietly replied, “I will handle it.” As promised Elwaith returned quickly and began at once to gently reposition the arm so that he could soak the bandages with the anesthetizing liquid. Glancing surreptitiously at his satchel he looked at Andras then lowered his voice, speaking just above a whisper.

“I understand gwador, the journey has been exhausting for all; I caught Orophin nodding off a while ago with his stew bowl still in his hands. Had I not shaken him he would have undoubtedly wound up with a lap full of steaming hot stew,” he laughed nervously as he continued, “trust me; that would have been one injury that I would not have looked forward to treating.”

Andras managed a small smile as he answered, “Oh, I do not doubt it Waith, I suspect it would not have been an injury that he would have wanted anyone to treat…and Elbereth knows his brothers would never let him live it down.”

Elwaith smiled as he imagined the tall handsome Warden having to drop his leggings and heaven only knows what else to allow the treatment to take place.

“Yes, I imagine it would have been quite embarrassing! One can only imagine the teasing he would have had to endure from Rúmil, he can be quite the little jester when the three of them are together – the stories Haldir tells of his exploits – I tell you it puts the Elrondions to shame.”

Andras closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back against the downed tree, then finally spoke again.

“Elrondions…Waith do you really think there is any hope for me? Do you think that Lord Elrond will be able to do anything to help me?”

“I do. I know that now, with everything that has happened, that things seem bleak,” he paused then, placing his hand on Andras’ shoulder causing the young elf to open his eyes and look in his direction. When he was sure he had his friend’s attention he continued…“I can only imagine how frightened you must be…and I know it looks like all may be lost…but I have faith in Lord Elrond, as does Lord Celeborn, he is truly the greatest healer in Arda Andras, it is not an exaggeration. His skill is without parallel…and that is why…”

“Why what?” Andras queried.

“Why you must not give up…why you must have faith, and why you must return the pouch you removed from my satchel.”

Andras' eyes widened, and the shakened look on his face was telling. “Pouch? What pouch? I know not of what you speak,” he said hastily.

Elwaith was unfazed and continued, “The pouch of Cowbane that you took, it was clearly marked. Where have you secreted it? Your boot perhaps? I doubt that you had time to find a more original hiding place.”

Raising his voice and speaking somewhat harshly, Andras responded, “I know not of what you speak healer.”

The tone of his voice drew Haldir’s attention and the March Warden inquired, “Is everything all right Elwaith?”

“Everything is fine Haldir, Andras and I were just having a little ‘discussion’ about his treatment; please finish with the herbs I will need them shortly.”

As the Warden nodded his assent, Elwaith returned to his interrogation of Andras. Locking eyes with the young ostler, the intensity of his stare was enough to make an orc wither back, feeling subjugated. Were that not enough, his words brought home his point loud and clear.

“I have known you since the day of your birth, I was present, assisting, when your mother brought you into this world, and in all that time of watching you grow to your majority, I have never known you to be a liar. Please tell me that that has not changed.”

The young elf’s eyes filled with tears, try as he might he could not sit here staring Elwaith in the face and continue to lie to him. Slowly he reached toward his boot and retrieved the pouch. Handing it over he immediately dissolved into tears, covering his face with his good hand. Elwaith, shushed him, and tried to comfort him as best he could.

“There, there now Dras…no harm has been done…I understand, I do…and we will not speak of it again.”

“The others…?” Andras sobbed.

“There is no need to bring this to their attention, it shall remain between the two of us…we will be in Imladris by morning, and you will no longer wrestle with this enemy.”

“Enemy?” the elf questioned.

“Yes,” Elwaith said softly, “fear.” “It has been your constant companion since that terrible night in the forest. There was no one to help you fight that fear before, but now you have each of us,” he said as he looked back towards the fire to their friends who were working so diligently on Andras’ behalf.

“Once we reach Imladris you will have more; you will have a champion – one who will wrestle this enemy to the ground, and restore not only your arm, but your faith. You will have Elrond Half-Elven, and one could not ask for a stronger ally. He will find the answer, and you will be made whole again, I believe this from the very essence of my being. Try to rest now, calm yourself, and I will be back with the sedative in a moment.”

Approaching the fire, Elwaith knelt and began to pour the heated water into a cup. Haldir did not look up, but continued crushing the herbs in the mortar as he asked, “Did he give it back to you?”

Without missing a beat Elwaith added Haldir’s muddled herbs to the cup and began to stir.

“He did.”

“We must be more careful with him,” the Warden offered.

“I agree, were it not for your vigilance March Warden we might have found ourselves in an almighty ‘unpleasant’ position.”

“Might?”

“My dear Haldir, surely you do not think me so careless in my craft as to leave one as seriously injured as Andras within arm’s reach of any medicine that could be used to…to bring harm? True, I did not see him enter the satchel, but I would never leave the bag unattended if there was anything of a serious or harmful nature inside.”

Glancing furtively over his shoulder at Andras to assure that he was not watching, the elf then turned back to Haldir and carefully indicated the unusual belt he wore under his tunic.

“A little ‘deception’ I picked up from Master Beregnas. It was one of the first things he taught us when he took us as his apprentices…never, under any circumstances leave dangerous potions or herbs unattended. I carry all the dangerous herbs on my person at all times.”

“Then what was in the pouch?” Haldir queried softly.

“A harmless herb, it looks much like Cowbane in appearance, but it is used as a relief for…”

“For what?”

“For cramping…human women use it to relieve the cramps they sometimes experience with…with their lunar cycle.”

“I see.”

“Trust me Haldir, there is nothing in that satchel that he could use, either alone or in combination with anything else that would do him harm.”

“I take it that he is still unaware of…”

“Yes, he has no idea that what he took was harmless; I thought it best to allow him to think that he had come close to achieving his goal. If he knew that he had been deceived…”

“He would simply try again.”

“Precisely. This way he has come to the realization of his wrong thinking on his own; I doubt that he will try this again with us.”

Haldir nodded saying, “You know, of course, that you will have to warn Lord Elrond…tell him what transpired tonight?”

“Yes, I know…but for the moment I think we will be all right…even in his denial, his first thoughts were of us…he worried what the rest of you would think if you knew. I made a promise to him that this incident would stay between the two of us…I saw no reason to tell him that you already knew, it would only have served to further humiliate him.”

“Humm…I agree, he need not know any of this. You do realize though that anyone in the trees…”

“May have already seen?”

“Yes, I know my wardens well; there is little that occurs on the ground that they do not see. Few know it, outside of the Galadhrim, but it was Rúmil who pointed out, during one of our training sessions many years ago, that when guarding anything, it pays to keep your eyes not only on the perimeter, but on the subject at hand; that while you are looking out at the bushes, the real danger may come from within. I have no doubt that he saw everything – and that he saw me see everything.”

Elwaith nodded his understanding, “That explains why he is has not come down from the trees…”

“Precisely. Do not worry, Rúmil is much more circumspect than others give him credit for, he takes guardianship very seriously. He will not speak of what he has seen to anyone until he has spoken to me. As a matter of fact, if you look in that direction I am sure that you will see that he watches over us as we speak.”

Sure enough, as Elwaith searched the trees he finally located Rúmil, and it was just as Haldir had predicted – Rúmil was watching their every move. Elwaith tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement of the Galadhel’s presence, and Rúmil nodded back.

“When we return to the Golden Wood I will be sure to convey to Lord Celeborn how well Rúmil, and all of you, have cared for him.”

“It is not necessary,” Haldir replied, “our Lord Celeborn is wise beyond even our knowing, it was not by accident that he included Rúmil and Orophin in this traveling party. Rúmil may well have the keenest eyes of any elf in Lórien, he will keep us well apprised of any potential attack, and Orophin…,” he paused to compose his thoughts, and then continued, “there is a gentleness in Orophin that is not often seen, even in an elf; a willingness to share even the most embarrassing moments of his life to help another feel better over the embarrassing moments in theirs.” “I have always admired that in him,” he said with a telling look of remembrance. “If there is anyone amongst us with whom Andras would be able to identify, or confide in, it would be him. Orophin… has a way about him, and infinite patience, Andras will need that in the days to come.”

“Did you get it back from him?”

The two elves looked up to find Orophin standing over them, expectantly waiting for an answer, a look of deep concern on his face.

“And as you can see,” Haldir continued with a smile, “Rúmil is not the only one in this family with excellent eyes.”


Chapter 28 - Brothers Always Have Secrets

Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump. This was the sound to which Elrohir Elrondion awoke. Thump, thump… there it was again; obviously his little brother was awake, for only Estel could find a way to wake the entire household in one fell swoop. His latest joy was jumping, or as he liked to put it “bed bouncin’.” Every morning for the last month he had tried to persuade his brothers to join him in his newest pastime, seeing how high he could bounce in the middle of his bed. His goal was to one day bounce high enough to touch the canopy over his bed two times before he landed back on the mattress. So far he hadn’t managed to touch it even once, but this was not a fact that was likely to deter Estel…he was nothing if not persistent. The sounds of giggles and the occasional “Wheee” could be heard from one end of the corridor to the other, and Elrohir was still amazed at how his father and Elladan managed to sleep through the noise. Swinging his legs off the bed he slowly slipped into his dressing gown and smiled softly as yet another “Wheee” could be heard coming from the chamber next door.

“He is in rare form this morning,” Elrohir said to no one who could hear, as he quietly crossed the chamber to the door that connected Estel’s room to his, “Well at least he waited until the sun was fully up this time,” he laughed. As he entered the room his little brother was in mid-bounce, on his way back down to the mattress as another loud “Wheeee” escaped his smiling face.

“Morrrnnnnnnin’ Roh” he said as he went flying into the air, only to come sailing back down again.

“Good morn to you tithen pen, I see you are playing your flying game again,” he said as he moved to rekindle the dying embers in Estel’s fireplace.

“Yuuuuuppppp! Wanna play?”

“No little brother, I think I will pass on that one…I am just a little too…tall… to be bouncing on the bed.”

“Westorrrrr is big like you, an he bounces with meeeeeeeeee,” the little one ground out before his elder brother managed to get a hold on him and anchor him to the mattress.

Turning back to the hearth Elrohir added two new logs to the fire as he questioned the child, “Erestor bounces on the bed with you tithen pen?”

“Yup,” the little one quipped as he hung upside down off the edge of the bed and gave his brother a look that said, “didn’t you know that?”

“Does this happen often Estel?” he asked as he sat down beside his brother.

“Uh-huh, Westor and Glorfy have a great big bed,” he said as he emphasized the size of the bed by stretching his arms as far out to the side as they would go, “an Westor and me bounce on it all da time.”

“How long have you been doing this Estel?” Roh asked as he tried to keep a straight face.

“Ev’va since I was liddle.”

“Oh, that long ‘eh?”

“Yup!”

“We don’ do it so much now dat I am big, cause Glorfy caught us and said Westor was a big silly.”

“A big silly?”

“Yup. He said Westor was a big silly elf an laughed all da way down da stairs to noon meal. Westor had to run behind him and make him pwamice not to tell.”

“He did?”

“Yup.”

“Where was I while all of these interesting events were taking place?”

“Patrol.”

“So then what happened?”

“Westor told Glorfy to put his hosen in his mouth.”

By this time Elrohir was just about in stitches, “He said what? Are you sure you heard him correctly ‘Stel?”

“Yup. Glorfy was laffin’ so hard, Westor said ‘Put your hosen in it Glorfy – and don’ you dare tell anybody’.”

Through his chuckling, Elrohir managed somehow to get his next question out, “What happened then little brother?”

Estel stood up on the bed to demonstrate, making sure Elrohir got the full effect of Erestor’s threat. Placing his hand on his hip, Estel leaned forward and pointed his little forefinger right at Elrohir’s nose and said “Westor said, Glorfy, if you udder one word, as much as a sil…sil..”

“Syllable?” his brother offered.

“Yeth, that, if you udder one sil-bull to any body I gonna make you life mis–a-ble!”

Elrohir nearly rolled off the bed laughing. Through chuckles, and flat out bellowing laughter, Roh rolled back and forth on the bed with his arms wrapped around his middle. Seeing how much he was entertaining his older brother, Estel, big grin in place, proceeded to divulge even more ‘sensitive’ information for Elrohir’s ears.

“Den Glorfy said, ‘I gonna tell ev’vabody I see, you not gonna bully me out of dis one. Den Glorfy started jumpin’ up and down makin’ his robes fly up in the air like Westor’s did.”

Elrohir was finished – he was done, he slowly rolled off the mattress and onto the small carpet at the side of Estel’s bed, just as Elrond entered the room. Seeing his second son rolling on the floor in near hysterics while his youngest peered over the edge of the bed giggling uncontrollably sent Elrond into a laugh-fest of his own. The ancient elf stood there momentarily just laughing at the sight of these two so thoroughly enjoying themselves, before he heard a voice at his back, “What is going on?”
Turning he found Erestor standing there looking puzzled. As Elrohir slowly began to regain control, he opened his eyes and upon seeing Erestor, grabbed at his stomach with one hand and howled ever louder as he pointed at Erestor with the other.

Erestor, confused smile in place, wandered in asking again ”What is going on?”

“I am not sure,” answered Elrond, “…but these two seem to be having quite a good time.” Turning back to the scene on the floor Elrond inquired “What are the two of you up to this morning?”

Elrohir, having seen Erestor, could not get his laughing under control. Each time it seemed as though he would bring it to a stop, he looked up at the staid, reserved counselor in his neatly pressed burgundy robes and the laughter started anew. Finally Estel piped up and offered his unique explanation.

“Mornin’ Ada!” he quipped as he scrambled down from the bed. Rushing over to his father he wrapped himself around his father’s legs, and looking up at the tall elf Estel grinned widely saying,

“I was tellin’ Roh ‘bout when…”

Elrohir quickly rolled to his knees and clamped his hand over his brother’s mouth, interrupting any further comment Estel intended to make.

“Oh no little brother,” he said conspiratorially, “that shall remain just between the two of us, and I hereby swear you to an oath of secrecy!”

Estel, who loved secrets and sworn oaths better than anyone was quick to agree. Pulling Elrohir’s hand away from his mouth he nodded enthusiastically and readily concurred. Quickly placing his hand over his heart he swore the ‘Elrondion Oath of Secrecy’.

“I Estel Elwondion pwamice not to bweathe a word to a livin’ soul,” he paused then trying to remember the rest of the often used oath that his brothers had concocted to protect all their most private secrets and jokes. Elrohir offered the needed prompt, “Under….”

“Oh yeth I ‘member now…Under pain of…of…” he searched his mind again, and finally came up with the answer,

“Under pain of da waff of Elwond!” he said proudly, then looking up at his father he said, “Sorry Ada, iss a secret now, can’t tell!”

Elrond gave Elrohir ‘the look’; he did not welcome his youngest son being sworn to keep secrets from him, and said as much as Elrohir dodged out of his reach.

“Elrohir Elrondion you come back here! I do not appreciate secrets being kept from me under my own roof! Come back here at once you young scalawag!”

The youngest twin ducked under his father’s outstretched hand and darted towards the connecting door. Reaching the door he looked purposefully at Erestor and then ‘bounced’ the last three steps through the door locking it as soon as it closed behind him. “Sorry Ada,” he yelled through the door, “but by now you ought to know how it is between brothers…we always have our secrets! Right Estel?” he yelled through the locked door trying to assure himself that his little brother wouldn’t ‘cave in’ under their father’s withering glance.

“Right!” Estel yelled back, then before his father could speak Estel shook his head ‘no’, raised his little hand and waggled his forefinger at his father saying, “Do not even try it Ada…brudder’s have secrets, you said so, ” then he turned and skipped into his bathing chamber saying as he went, “…come on Ada, I hafta do my bubbles so we can go break fast.”

Elrond stood there dumbfounded as Erestor tried to stifle a grin. Looking at his chief counselor he said resignedly, “I thought I was finished with this sort of thing when they reached their majority. Now it seems that I am starting all over again from scratch. Remind me not to tell Estel anything else about Elros and me…or the Lórien three…,” then turning back to Erestor he shouted, “and especially not about the twins!” Picking up Estel’s small dressing gown from the end of the bed he grumbled under his breath as he headed in to assist Estel with his morning ablutions, as Erestor dissolved into laughter against the doorframe.


Chapter 29 - No Rest For The Weary

Elladan Elrondion probably would have slept for at least another eight hours, but the noise and laughter coming from Estel’s room put an end to any thought of sleeping late. Dan had promised himself that he would get some much-deserved rest after this week’s long and tedious patrol, and to that end had even locked the door to his room, something he almost never did, to keep both of his brothers at bay. But sleep was not to be had this morning. Since his room was two doors away from Estel’s, he had hoped that exhaustion and sound sleep would spare him from his little brother’s noisy morning antics, but it was not to be.

He was reasonably sure that Elrohir would have the good sense not to wake him since he was aware that Dan had spent the last week on the perimeter watch tour. The thought of those long nights on the borders once again reminded him not to ever again wager against Glorfindel when it came to a game of Heads or Ships. The Commander of Imladris’ military forces had an uncanny way of making a tossed coin land in whatever fashion he wanted, and he had unwisely bet against the balrog slayer. Glorfindel had, not so magnanimously, claimed the spoils of the wager sending him to the borders for the week in his stead. He could only imagine how warm and comfy the slayer had spent his nights, wrapped snuggly in the heavy furs that adorned his and Erestor’s bed. Erestor was sure to be pleased with this development, as he was, of late, wont to complain that he found it hard to sleep at night without his beloved at his side.

So, after seven nights of torturous watch duty, trying everything he knew to stay awake and alert, he was finally home in his own bed, but unfortunately the rays of Anor streaming through the windows proved yet again that he would get no sleep. Pulling the pillows over his head he prayed that Estel, whom he loved dearly, would bypass his room and not visit him this morning, for it was just too early, and he was just too tired for ‘bouncing’ today. Little did he know that it would not be Estel who would postpone his reverie, but the call to arms. The call for all warriors to report to Glorfindel, as an unidentified group was headed towards the borders of Imladris, and all would be required to ‘stand to’.

Elladan turned onto his side, pulling the blankets up to his chin. The early morning chill had settled in his room as the fire had long ago died in the hearth, and he did not wish to leave the warm comfort his large bed provided. He found the perfect position, and his eyes were slowly glazing over, ushering him into the peaceful world of supreme relaxation when the knock on his door came.

Knock, knock, knock.

He remained silent, hoping that perhaps if he did not answer, whoever it was might go away, but the sound continued, this time more urgently.

Knock!, Knock!, Knock!

“Go Away! I am still sleeping!” But the voice on the other side of the door was adamant.

“Not any more my young Lord. The Call has been raised, an unidentified party is approaching the border, Glorfindel has ordered all available warriors to the courtyard for duty assignments.”

Elladan cursed the unusual Orc activity they’d been experiencing of late near their borders. ‘If it were not for them none of these extra patrols would be necessary,’ he thought. As he threw back the warm covers, his mind set in motion a plan. ‘After Estel’s birthday, Elrohir and I shall ride out and rid our borders of these foul beasts once and for all!’ As his feet touched the cold stone floor he almost winced, ‘True,’ he thought, ‘…we elves are not as susceptible to cold as others, but even with that advantage the house is unusually cold this morning’. ‘I hope Roh remembered to re-light the fire in Estel’s room while they were doing all that bouncing…it is much too cold for the little one, and he will be too occupied with playing to notice the chill’.

“ELLADAN!?”

“I AM COMING ERESTOR! There is no need to shout.” Quickly pulling on his braises and his leggings Elladan crossed to the door and unlocked it in one swift motion, then he turned and headed back to his bed, dark hair flowing behind him cascading down his well-muscled back.

Slowly the door opened, and Erestor peeked in…“I am sorry Elladan I know that you have only just returned and have had no rest, but the others are assembling in the courtyard as we speak.”

“How many?” the beleaguered elf asked as he perched on the edge of his bed pulling on his boots.

“In the courtyard?”

“No, how many spotted? How many approach?” he said sleepily.

“As best I know, the sentry counted at least five, but they were traveling with a wagon, so there could be more.”

“A wagon? It does not sound like Orcs to me…could they not just be travelers?”

“Glorfindel says they are probably just merchants, but until they get closer and we get a better look…he just wants to be safe.” Retrieving Elladan’s sword from its place against the wall the elder elf crossed the room and strapped the sword around the young one’s waist as Elladan finished fastening his tunic.

“Thank you my friend,” he said as headed towards the door.

“Wait!” Erestor called as he rushed after the harried elf. “Here…you have forgotten your dagger.”

“What would I do without you Erestor? Sometimes I think this place would fall apart without you to keep things running smoothly. After mother left, well, you know what I mean," he said as he leaned over and gently kissed the seneschal's forehead.

The nervous counselor responded, “I will pray to the Valar that you never have to find out what life is like without me. Now go, off with you, the others are waiting.”

Grabbing the sheathed dagger and securing it in his belt, Elladan hurried through the door and rushed almost headlong into his twin. “Oh, there you are…I was just coming to get you.”

Elrohir smiled, “You will have to get up a lot earlier than this my brother to be up and about before me.”

Falling into stride beside each other they headed for the staircase and the main door. Hair the color of ebony streaming behind them they strode purposefully down the corridor, checking their weapons as they went. Grit and determination written on their faces, they turned simultaneously giving each other a much-practiced look, the single glance that said that they would be of one mind, one body, one thought. That they would protect what was theirs, and more importantly, that they would protect each other.

Erestor stood in the doorway of Elladan’s chamber watching as they departed. “I have seen that look before,” he said under his breath. A saddened countenance covered him as he recalled the many times the twins had ridden out in search of orc blood and vengeance. Shaking his head he turned and headed in the opposite direction, and he prayed now as he had then…”May Elbereth have mercy on any who try to cross these borders without leave…the Elrondions are coming…and you shall receive no quarter from them.”


Chapter 30 - Status Reports And Morning Meals

Bathing and dressing completed, Estel held his father’s hand and skipped merrily along as they approached the downstairs dining hall. Entering the room, Elrond took note that the hall was unusually quiet and strangely absent of warriors; he was just positioning Estel in his chair when Glorfindel came rushing through the doors.

“Brannon nín, (My Lord) our sentries have spotted a small contingent of travelers headed in our direction. Given the increased activity of the Yrch of late I thought it best to turn out all warriors, with the exception of the household guard, to the field.”

“Is there any indication who these travelers might be?” Elrond queried.

“At first we thought them to be strangers, but now it seems that they may be our brethren from Lórien.”

“Lórien?”

“Yes my lord, they are heading right for us and appear to be traveling as quickly as the trail will allow. We could not tell if they were being pursued, so I…”

Elrond completed his sentence, “Sent our warriors to meet them…you did well Glorfindel, if they are our people it would not do to have them waylaid by Yrch this close to safety.”

Just then Estel spoke, eyes wide with fright and holding tight to the side of his father’s robe.

“Are da orcs comin’ to get us Glorfy?” the child asked fearfully.

Glorfindel smiled reassuringly at the boy and knelt down by the side of his chair to answer…“You have nothing to fear little one, no Yrch shall ever pass the gates of Imladris, or set foot in this house…I give you my word. Besides, your brothers ride out to meet our guests, and you know how afraid the Yrch are of them…they would not dare cross the paths of Elladan and Elrohir, and Braneth and four other warriors ride with them to ensure their safety. Cilinwë, Ecthíras, and I decided to stay here with the rest of the sentries to guard the house.”

“See Ada…you dinna have nothin’ to be ‘fraid of…right Glorfy?”

Elrond lovingly looked down at the child. Estel had developed a habit of pretending that someone, other than he, was afraid whenever he felt frightened or threatened. Those close to him had learned to play along as it helped to bolster the child’s confidence.

“Yes Melyanna, I see that Glorfindel has everything under control…we are quite safe, and there is nothing to fear,” he said as he gently caressed the soft curls in Estel’s hair.

“Numbers Glorfindel?”

“The first spotters counted five with a wagon, there are now believed to be at least seven. They are moving quickly, too quickly for a trail so narrow, and may be in need of assistance.”

“Very well, keep me informed, let me know as soon as you have ascertained the number arriving and the nature of their haste. In any event, I will have Erestor alert the healing wing and the household staff. If they are this close, Lady Nénilya will want to be notified as soon as possible, the only thing she dislikes more than strangers in her kitchen, is not knowing there will be extra mouths to feed at table.”

“Aye my lord, I will see to it.” Turning, Glorfindel left the room as quickly as he’d entered and Elrond looked down on a little face that appeared to him to still be somewhat frightened.

“There now, now that you and I have all the morning business taken care of what say we break our fast and make plans for our day? It looks as though we will have visitors, and we should make plans to entertain them properly.”

“Ada…”

“Yes Estel?”

“Ada are you sure you not ‘fraid any more?”

The old elf smiled as he answered, “I am sure ion nín, Glorfindel and our warriors will take good care of us. I do not think there are any Yrch around, but if there were…”

“If dere were what den Ada?” the child asked apprehensively.

“Then they would be running from our borders in fear…running all the way back to Mordor little one, for your brothers are the most feared orc hunters in all of Arda…the mere mention of their names has orcs scrambling to find rocks to hide under,” he said laughingly. Elrond’s warm smile comforted Estel, if his Ada was not afraid, then he had nothing to worry about. The Lord of Imladris had long ago realized that Estel, as young as he was, still remembered the night his parents were slain. He could not be sure how much Estel had seen that awful evening, but one thing was certain – he had seen the orcs, and smelled them. Elrond’s face stiffened as he allowed his memories to momentarily take him back to that event.

(Flashback)

After delivering the child to their father, the twins, following a short rest, went back out hunting the foul beasts. They returned two days later, Elrohir with a small wound to his hand and Elladan with one to his leg; both were covered in orc blood, Roh with small amounts of the blackened sludge still dripping from the hilt of his sword. Erestor, after much pleading from Glorfindel, had grudgingly relinquished the baby to Elrond’s care for a complete physical examination, and when the twins entered the infirmary for treatment, the child, who up to that point had been contentedly playing with Elrond’s braids, began screaming at the top of his lungs before he even saw them, Elrond later concluded that it was the smell of the orc blood that triggered Aragorn’s outburst, for as soon as the twins were bathed and redressed, they sat on the floor of the infirmary and the child happily toddled back and forth between them touching their faces and giggling, as he tried to figure out why there were two of the same person in the room.

The first few days after the babe’s arrival in Imladris had been painful ones, with the boy waking from dreams that sent him into screaming fits of terror. The sound of the child’s pain near brought Erestor to tears, and usually it was only Glorfindel’s hand that could sooth and quiet him. The two elves spent several sleepless nights comforting the boy before Elrond overcame his own anxieties about becoming a parent again and decided that he would indeed take on the responsibility of raising young Aragorn. The child’s cries had awakened Elrond from a dream, a dream where he saw who this boy might become. A dream in which this child sat on his knee, held his hand, and stood, as a man, at his side along with the twins. When he awoke…he knew. He had foreseen it; there could be no denying it now. This child was to be his child.

That very night he rose from his bed and followed, almost blindly, the sound of Aragorn’s cries to Glorfindel and Erestor’s chambers. After being admitted to their sammoth by a distraught and tearful Erestor, he moved silently across the room to where Glorfindel sat gingerly on the side of the bed, rocking the crying child. Without a word, he outstretched his arms, and Glorfindel rose and placed the still sobbing baby into his embrace. Holding the boy close to his chest and patting him softly on the back, caused the babe to calm almost immediately. Big silver eyes looked up into dark grey ones and the connection was complete. It seemed that Elrond was not the only one who knew…little Aragorn knew too. This was the one who was to be his, what was that word that the two-people used? Ah, yes…this was the one who would be his A-da. As Elrond exited the room with the boy he announced over his shoulder to Glorfindel and Erestor…

“He is starting a new life this night…he must have a new name. I have decided to call him Estel, for that is what he brings, that is who he is.”

Glorfindel smiled knowingly saying, “For a while there you had me worried my gwador, I was beginning to think that you would never realize your fate…or his.”

As Elrond carried the sniffling child back to his chambers the newly named little one curled his fingers around one of the ancient elf’s braids. Raising his head from Elrond’s shoulder the boy looked at him questioningly and said,

“A-da?”

Elrond gently pressed the child’s head back against his shoulder and answered softly, “Yes little one…I am your Ada.”


Chapter 31 - Preparations For a Party

As Elrond’s musings came to a conclusion he was thankful that those days were behind them, Estel had not had a nightmare for almost eight moons, Elrond was cautiously breathing a sigh of relief, and hoping that the child would never experience anything like that again. ‘No,’ he thought, ‘…do not dwell on it, those times are gone forever’.

Turning back to Estel, he found the child staring at him, an anxious, perplexed look on his face. Elrond did not know how many minutes had passed as he stood there steeped in his memories, but he could see that Estel’s knuckles were white from holding on to him so tightly. He immediately swept the child up from his seat and bounced him in his arms in an attempt to cheer him, “Estel I think the promise of visitors calls for a celebration. What say you accompany me to the kitchens and we pay a visit to Lady Nénilya and ask her to make all our favorite things for supper tonight?”

The child responded as he had hoped, excitedly, clapping his little hands together, “Aye Ada! We should have a ‘bration,” he said as he nodded enthusiastically. Elrond threw back his head in laughter as he corrected the child “That is cel-e-bra-tion Estel…celebration.” Estel looked at him quizzically and gave the old elf something else to laugh about,”Right! We should have a party.”

Laughing, Elrond responded, “Then a party it shall be! Come, let us find Lady Nilya and tell her of our plans, perhaps we can persuade her to bake us some of her wonderful pies.”

“Oooh Ada, can we have booberry? I love booberry Ada…Westor and me found new booberries in da patch, but he said we could not pick ‘em yet cause dey not ready…but dat was a long time ago Ada, I bet dey ready now,” he said nodding his surety.

Passing through the door from the dining room to the kitchen wing carrying his best gift in his arms, Elrond answered, “And I will wager that you are right ion nín, but we must hurry; if we are to have pies and guests at table tonight we must let Lady Nilya know straight away.”

Estel wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and planted a sloppy wet kiss firmly on his cheek, once again reassured that all was well in Imladris and he was indeed safe – in his father’s arms.

~~~

Seven bold elves rode out from Imladris heading for the narrow passage trail that led to their valley sanctuary. Imril, Gwaenir, and the brothers Brithil and Lethros accompanied Elladan, Elrohir, and Braneth. As they passed the front gate, they intercepted a messenger and learned that it was indeed their fellow elves from Lórien on the trail. Not wanting to take any chances with their safety, Braneth insisted that they continue on their mission and rendezvous with the traveling party as quickly as possible. Although they had seen no activity from orcs in several days, one could still not be too careful when lives were at stake, better safe than sorry. There was no telling who was traveling, it could be Arwen coming home for an unexpected visit, and the Captain of Patrols was determined that nothing untoward would happen on his watch.

As the party rounded a bend and slowly came into view, Elrohir immediately recognized Haldir riding point with his brother Rúmil at his side. A slight smile crossed his face as he saw that Orophin was also in the party. “The Lórien Three,” he said in a voice just above a whisper, “it has been almost sixty years since I have seen my old friends, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

As the traveling party caught sight of the warriors, Haldir raised his fist in the air and brought the convoy to a halt and Braneth and Elladan rode forward to greet them.

Mae govannen Haldir O’ Lórien, it has been many years old friend since you have graced us with your presence, what brings you to our fair valley?”

Haldir bowed his head slightly and touched his hand to his heart in acknowledgement of the greeting, and in deference to the young Lord at Braneth’s side. “Mae govannen Braneth, Elladan.” Having never been one to waste time or beat around the bush, the March Warden continued, directing his response to Imladris’ heir.

“We are on an urgent mission seeking your father’s aid; Andras Daenirion has been gravely injured and is in great need of Lord Elrond’s expertise as a healer.”

“Andras? The ostler’s son?”

“Yes, I will explain later my friend, but right now we need to get Andras to your father as quickly as possible, his injury is severe and he is in great pain.”

“Follow us” Braneth said, then turned his horse and issued his orders, “Elladan, Brithil, move to the side of the trail and bring up the rear as they pass, Elrohir, you and Lethros – with the cart, Gwaenir and Imril…with me.”

Haldir gave Elladan a questioning look, having never known a reception party from Imladris to be this ‘formal’ or as he noted, this well armed. His bewildered expression was met with a one-word explanation, “Orcs.”

Haldir nodded his understanding and passed the information on to his party as he and Rúmil fell in behind Braneth, Gwaenir and Imril and made their way down the trail towards the hidden valley. As their formation took shape, Haldir made an unusual suggestion. “I think it might be best if Rúmil rode ahead and told Lord Elrond of our arrival, there are things he needs to know that…”

“That what?” Braneth interrupted, curiosity getting the better of him.

“That are better left unsaid in front of his patient. Things have happened on the trail that he should be aware of before the lad arrives, things best said privately.”

“I see…very well then; Rúmil you will no doubt find my Lord in the family wing with Estel.” The Warden nodded and took off at a full gallop heading for Lord Elrond. As the rest of the party moved out, Haldir held back a bit waiting for the cart, as Elrohir approached, he questioned his companion,

“Elrohir, who is Estel?”

“My youngest brother.”

Haldir was completely taken aback. The warden was reasonably certain that an elf of Lord Elrond’s ilk, one who was married to Lord Celeborn’s very own daughter, would never engage in an illicit romantic entanglement, thus his next question was quite understandable.

“Your what? Have you completely lost your wits meldir, what do you mean your brother?”

Elrohir just smiled, “It is a long story my friend, and you and your brothers are in for quite a treat. You think you had your hands full raising Rúmil and Orophin? Wait until you meet Estel.”


Chapter 32 - Meeting Estel

Nilya’s kitchen was alive with activity. Lord Elrond and Estel entered and sat at one of the many preparation tables at the far wall. Lady Nilya and her staff were busy, each trying to outdo the other, waiting on them hand and foot. It was not often that Imladris’ Lord visited in the kitchens and the wait staff was thrilled that he had included a visit to them in his very busy schedule. Elrond watched Estel, as Estel watched everything else. The boy had no idea that it took this many people to make the meals for the residents of the Last Homely House.

Lady Nilya practically had her own little army. Estel watched intently as the staff went through their paces, moving quickly and efficiently from one worktable to the next. As they reached the final table, the table where he and his Adar sat, they always left some wonderful culinary treat in their wake. Estel’s eyes widened at the sight of Glorfindel’s favorite roast chicken; fire roasted fish, the kind he liked with the rainbow on the side, pan after pan of fresh biscuits and pots of steaming gravy.
One of the kitchen maids was sitting in a corner churning butter, and he could smell the scent of baked apples coming from the oven. Fresh picked green peas, which oddly enough he happened to love, filled two large bowls in the center of one of the cook tables waiting for their turn on the stove, and Lady Nilya herself was rolling out dough for piecrusts.

“Do you t’ink dat will be enough Ada? Don’ you t’ink we should have more pies if we havin’ comp-nie?”
Elrond smiled, and although he knew Estel’s question to be completely self-serving, he too wondered if enough desserts were being prepared. “Lady Nilya, word has come to me this morn that we will be having visitors. I am not certain just yet how long they will be staying, but they will be here in a few hours, and they will no doubt stay for supper.”

“Do you know how many are arriving milord?”

“The best estimate so far is seven.”

“Seven you say? So many.”

“Yes it is quite unexpected, I know that this places and unexpected burden on you and the staff.”

“Do not worry your head about that milord, my ladies and I can handle anything, can we not ladies?”

The resounding ‘yes’ that filled the room brought a smile to Elrond’s face, Lady Nilya was always ready to be of service to him and his house, he made a mental note to speak to Erestor about planning some special way of saying ‘thank you’ to her and her staff.

“Thank you Lady Nilya, I can always depend on you to come through in a pinch. There is one more thing though…”

“Yes milord?”

“Estel has been telling me that he and Erestor discovered a large patch of blueberries and we were wondering if we could persuade you to make us some pies?”

Nilya dabbed daintily at her brow with the hem of her apron, the heat from the kitchens causing her to perspire in a most unladylike fashion. She’d been up and working in the kitchens since before dawn, breakfast was already being served, the noon meal would soon be ready for the table, and although she did not wish to admit it, she was tired, more so than she had been in quite a while.

The last few weeks had been hectic, with warriors coming in at all hours of the day and night needing to be fed, and looking for someone to talk to while they ate their meal and wound down from their watch. Lady Nilya filled both those needs, providing hot nourishing food as well as a ready ear and sage advice for all their woes, and the extra hours had taken quite a toll on her and her staff.

The good Lady absolutely refused to have it said that a warrior could not be properly fed from her kitchens, and to that end she made sure that every meal that went to the table was hot and filling. No warmed up leftover food for her lads, for that is the way she thought of them, as her own. More ancient even than Elrond or Glorfindel, Lady Nilya had seen many of these ‘youngsters’ born, and could boast that she knew many, if not all, of their parents when they too were elflings; and she felt it was her duty to make sure they were properly cared for in their parent’s stead.

Staring now at the littlest Elrondion’s sweet hopeful face she found herself unable to resist, and with a smile that truly reflected her gentle spirit she agreed. “As soon as we have served the noon meal I will personally lead the quest for the blueberries little one.”

Estel grinned from ear to ear, he loved coming to visit the great lady; she never failed to have a big soft hug for him, and she could be depended on for some of the best treats in Arda.

“Tsank you Lady Nilya.” Estel fairly bubbled, “Did you hear dat Ada? We havin’ booberry pie for supper. Tsank you Lady Nilya, t’sank you, t’sank you!”

“You are very welcome sweet one.”

“Lord Elrond?”

At that moment, all heads turned towards the door and the stunning, if grimy, blond warrior who stood bowing in the entry.

“My Lord…by your leave sir, I have a matter of grave import to discuss with you.”

The trail wearied Warden stood tentatively in the doorway, not sure if he had interrupted a private family moment. Elrond rose and walked toward the warrior and Rúmil snapped to attention to give the ancient Lord a proper greeting.

“Maer aur (Good Morning) Lord Elrond, I bring greetings from Lothlórien and the Lord Celeborn and his Lady Galadriel.”

Estel was now out of his seat, and joined his father at the doorway. Half hiding behind Elrond’s leg he stared awestruck at the tall blond warrior. Feeling Estel at his side Elrond smiled down at him and gently ruffled his curly hair.

“Welcome to Imladris Rúmil, it has been long since we have had the pleasure of your company.”

Looking down again, he gently prodded Estel forward and introduced him.

“Rúmil Hesonion O’ Lórien I would like you to meet my son…Estel.”

The look of surprise on Rúmil’s face, however fleeting, was hard to miss. Elrond simply smiled saying, “The twins will explain to you later, now, what news do you bring from Lórien?”

Rúmil’s response was a guarded one, glancing quickly around the room at the bevy of ellith who seemed entranced by his every word, and then pointedly at Estel, he lowered his voice and answered,

“With all respect milord, it is news meant for your ears alone and best delivered privately.”

“I see,” Elrond’s face took on a more serious countenance, “then perhaps we should adjourn to my study where we may speak more freely.”

“Aye milord.”

“Estel, I have to conduct some business with Rúmil, I want you to stay here and have your meal.”

“You not gonna eat wit me Ada?”

“I am sorry ion nín, but Rúmil has urgent messages from your daeradar, and I must find out what they are.”

“Can I come too Ada?” the child asked hopefully.

“Not this time little one.”

Estel knew from experience that these unplanned meetings could sometimes take hours, and he was ready with his argument.

“But who will break fast wit you? An what about noon meal? You said meals should always be shared, I don wan you to eat all by you-self. Iss not good for di-di…”

“Digestion?”

“Yeth dat. Iss not good for dat Ada, you said so. I should go wit you and keep you comp-nie,” he said nodding determinedly.

Rúmil could not help but smile, this child was smart, and quite grown up. He momentarily thought back to the time when Orophin was this size and equally as free with his opinions. Elrond knew at once that Estel’s reasoning was more about wanting to do everything just like the adults, more specifically in this case like him, and there was also the matter of meeting someone new. He had not missed the awed expression on Estel’s face when, for the first time in his life, he encountered another blond warrior. He was confident that Estel was under the impression that Glorfindel, as the only blond in Imladris, was the only blond elf in Arda; a belief that the Golden One, in his vanity, had not refuted. Understanding that Estel’s argument was not entirely made for the benefit of others, the elf lord held his ground.

“I am sorry Estel, you can not go with me this time…perhaps the next time you can take counsel with me, but this time must be private, just me and Rúmil.”

Estel pouted earnestly, and gave Rúmil, who, only moments ago, he had considered as a potential new playmate, his best “I do not like this” scowl.

“But Ada…”

“No buts’,” Elrond said as he gently grasped Estel’s shoulders and turned him around, “go back to the table and wait for your meal.” “Go on now,” he said to the slowly moving child. “Lady Nilya would you mind…?”

“Say no more milord, I will keep an eye on him.”

“Estel when you are finished with your meal I want you to go to the classroom and start your lessons with Erestor and Master Canúmion.”

“Yeth Ada” the little one said dejectedly. Elrond smiled back at the boy as he turned and ushered Rúmil to his private study, as he left, Estel took his seat at the table and stared forlornly after his father. Seeing the little one’s sad expression Adril, one of the lady’s kitchen staff, set a warm bowl of honey drenched porridge in front of Estel. Normally this would have been enough to elicit at least a smile from the boy, as honey, and anything covered in honey, was on his list of favorite things. When she did not receive the expected response, she motioned for one of the other maidens to bring her the bowl with the soft-boiled eggs. This, she knew, was guaranteed to put a smile on Estel’s face, however when she set the egg and a hot biscuit in front of him all she heard was the faintest little “Tsank you Adril.” Seeing this half–hearted response Adril was instantly on her knees at Estel’s side. She stretched out her arms and the little one was immediately off the chair, his face buried in her long silken hair and his arms tightly wound around her neck.

“Ohhh…tis all right Melyanna, you heard what your adar said, you can go with him next time.”

Disentangling the boy from her neck she looked him in the eye saying, “Now will that not be a treat? You will get to sit at the side of your father while he hears all the news of the valley and makes all the business decisions for the day. That is quite an honor Estel, as long as I have been here only the Lords Erestor and Glorfindel sit with your father through his meetings, he must think you to be quite the valuable counselor if he has made such a promise.”

As Adril’s words began to sink in, Estel began to feel a little better, and a small smile played across his face. “You t’ink I should get my wobes weady? Ada always wears his wobes when he sits counsel. An Westor too. Glorfy just wears his breeches, but Ada says dat’s cause he has to look like a strong force by Ada’s side. Should I wear my boo one or my wed one? I t’ink I should wear the wed one, Ada says the wed one makes you look strong…dat’s im-por-tent when you do bid-ness,” he said as he nodded his head vigorously to affirm his assertion.

Adril’s lilting laughter filled the room. This child would be quite the statesman one day, already planning what to wear to counsel to make an impression.

“Well let us not get too far ahead of ourselves,” she chided, “first you must eat your morning meal.”

“Right! Ada says iss the most im-por-tent meal of the day; it gives you en…ena...”

“Energy?” the elleth prompted.

“Yeth, dat. It gives you en-er-gy for the day.”

“Well you sit here then and eat your meal and get all your energy…you never know when your Ada will ask you to sit with him, and you should be prepared.”

“Right!”

With that, Estel went back to his breakfast and Adril went back to her duties, minutes later the staff started filing out of the kitchen headed towards the orchards. Lady Nénilya, who was always the last to leave, stopped to ascertain whether Estel was close to finishing his meal. Seeing that he still had quite a bit to consume she thought it would be all right if she left him momentarily, just to get everyone started with the harvesting of fruit for tonight’s desserts.

“Estel, I want you to finish everything in front of you, I hope to be back before then, but if I am not I want you to go straight to your lessons…understood?”

Obedient as ever, Estel responded “Yeth Lady Nilya, straight to lessons.”

“All right wee one, I will be back in a moment…and do not go near the stove.”

“Yeth ma’mam, no stove!” he said vehemently shaking his head no.

As the door closed behind Nilya, Estel continued to eat his porridge, but unfortunately now that the room was empty and there was no one for him to watch his mind started to wander. His bowl was almost empty and his egg was completely gone; now that his tummy was full he wondered how his Ada was faring with the new warrior.

‘I bet Ada is hungry…he dinna break his fast…he must be weally hungry now,’ the child thought.

‘Mayhaps I should make him somethin’ to eat? But I pwamiced Lady Nilya I woo’nt go near da stove…I bet dere’s somethin’ in da larder I can take to Ada’.

Determined to make sure his father was not starving to death while he listened to that silly warrior and all his news, Estel opened the door to the cold cellar and entered the chilly, damp feeling chamber. The room was extremely cold, the floor and walls were lined with a thick padding of straw, and huge blocks of ice that had been carted down from the very top of the Misty Mountains ringed the perimeter of the room. Some were lined up side by side on the floor and in some places stacked four blocks high against the walls. Deep shelves were positioned between the columns of stacked blocks, and dish after dish of cooked and uncooked food could be seen. Estel searched the room carefully; whatever he got for his Ada would have to be found on the lower levels, as he just couldn’t climb up on the cold and sometimes slippery shelves.

He searched for some minutes before he came upon a bowl of left over cabbage; Lady Nilya had made another batch of the loathsome green leaves just the night before and although his brothers, father and Glorfindel all ate their fair share of it, he had still been faced with a whooping ladle full of the horrid mix. Looking at it now Estel was afraid that it might wind up on tonight’s table, in fact he was sure it would…that is…unless somebody ate it first.

Since Estel did not believe that anyone would voluntarily come in an eat it, there was only one thing to do…he would give it to his Ada for lunch. Taking the bowl from the lower shelf Estel exited the cold cellar and carried the bowl back to the table where he had been seated. Not being a mean spirited child, Estel decided that he would find a way to make the horrid greens taste better perhaps that way his Ada would not mind eating all of it for noon meal. Scanning the kitchen he spied a small shallow bowl filled with a snow white grain on the table were the ladies made the pies. Taking the bowl from the table Estel proceeded to empty almost half of it into the cabbage. Sugar was a good thing, he knew it was hard to come by, but his Ada was worth it.

‘Now,’ he thought, ‘what else does Ada like on his food?’ ‘I know! Lady Nilya always puts those little seeds on Ada’s meat…but she mashes ‘em first’ Looking around the room Estel found the seeds and then searched for something he could use to smash them. Finally spying Nilya’s rolling pin he quickly retrieved it and set about banging the tiny seeds into submission. That done, he searched for the red powder, the one that Lady Nilya said made everything taste wonderful; finding it he managed to dump almost a quarter of the container into the bowl of cabbage before he heard voices.

The ladies were returning. Quickly, Estel grabbed the bowl and his spoon and as carefully as he could he headed out the kitchen door and up the stairs to his bedroom, carefully balancing the almost full bowl. When he reached his room, he set the bowl on the floor, quickly opened the door, scooted the bowl across the threshold, and followed it inside closing his door tightly.

Moving over to his little table, he set the bowl down and carefully began to stir in all his ingredients. With that accomplished his next mission was to find a way to heat the mixture so that it would be warm for his Ada’s meal. Since he was not allowed to handle the coals in the fireplace he decided that the best way to warm it would be to put it on the windowsill and let the sun warm it up. Carefully placing the bowl on the ledge, he pulled the curtains over to hide the bowl from prying eyes. This was to be his surprise, and he didn’t want anyone to spoil it.

His task completed Estel ran to his bathing chamber washed his hands in the basin and quickly exited the room heading for his lessons. As he skipped down the corridor, he was feeling very proud of himself, he had managed to make noon meal for his Ada all by himself, and he couldn’t wait to surprise his father. Meanwhile, as the sun rose higher in the sky over Imladris and shown down ever brighter and hotter on Estel’s window, one bowl of forest green cabbage sat – laced with salt, mustard seeds, and a quarter pound of paprika – sat and turned rancid.


Chapter 33 - Painful Arrivals

Elrond sat seemingly entranced at the tale Rúmil told. Never in all his days on Arda had he seen or even heard of such a thing. He’d faced many evils in his time, many villains, but none such as was described by the dutiful Lórien warden. Filled with questions, he began his interrogation of Rúmil.

“You say that the injuries appear to resemble those which are found only on a field of battle?”

“Yes milord…on a field of those long dead. The body shrivels; shrinks as if all bodily fluids have been drained. We do not know how this could be accomplished milord, as there was no sign, no drop of blood to be found anywhere…surely there would be some trace…”
“And you say the skin changes color?”

“Yes milord, it varies from dark grey to black…with Andras a handprint is clearly visible…as if his assailant grabbed him but was unable to get a good hold upon him. The arm is extremely fragile and dry. Elwaith brought back some new herbs from Rohan that have given promising results, throughout our journey we have used them and kept the arm hydrated and immobilized…it seems to give him some brief comfort, but the limb does not return to its previous form.” Rúmil shook his head in despair and continued, “And there is the other matter…”

“Other matter?” Elrond queried.

“Yes milord…Andras is understandably very despondent…”

“Of course, any one would be.”

“On our way here…” Rúmil paused

“Yes, speak up Rúmil; this is not a time for reticence.”

“On our way here milord…he tried to pilfer some herbs…he sought to end his life milord.”

Elrond was astounded, and his astonishment quickly turned to outrage.

”Where was your healer? How could he have allowed the lad access to dangerous herbs? Explain!”

“Elwaith was mixing the potion for his arm milord, but I assure you Lord Elrond, at no time did Andras have access to anything dangerous. As we found out later, Elwaith keeps all the dangerous herbs on his person. Andras only thinks he took something poisonous. When Elwaith talked him into giving the pouch back we thought it best to allow him to think that he had succeeded in his quest, lest he try it again.”

Calm now returned to Elrond’s countenance, “I see…, yes, it was wise of Elwaith not to give him that information…any elf that desperate for release from this life would no doubt have tried again.”

“…and then there was the village.”

“Village?”

“Yes milord…just south of here, Haldir said it is called South Gundabad.”

“I know that settlement…we trade often with the villagers there…our root vegetables for their parchment…there is a man there – Gundars; his skill with making parchment is unparalleled even by our kind. In his younger days he was in service to the house of Thengel.”

“Alas milord…his days of service are over.”

“He too has fallen victim to this evil?” Elrond inquired.

“Aye, he and all his kin milord…the entire village was wiped out – none was spared…not even the little ones.”

A wave of shock rolled over Elrond; he could not believe what he was hearing. ”You are telling me that the entire village has been…eradicated?”

“All dead milord.”

Elrond was incredulous, after having Rúmil affirm the information twice; he still could not believe what he was hearing. “The children?” he queried.

The tall sentry turned his head; he could not bring himself to continue with news that so obviously distressed Imladris’ lord. Elrond slumped tiredly into a chair, memories of his dealings with Gundars flashed through his mind. He’d known the old master for many years and they had become fast friends, to think that he was no more was almost too much to bear. Elrond sat staring out the balcony doors – looking south – the weight of the ages reflected in his eyes. His next question was filled with the anguish his heart now held.

“What did you do with…how did you…how did you take care of the bodies?”

Rúmil hesitated; he knew this next piece of information would be difficult for Elrond to hear, for it was certainly difficult to say. “There was no time milord to care for them properly, in their fashion. We did not know where the enemy was, or how many there might be. We did the only thing we could do milord, we set the stock free…and burned the village to the ground.”

Elrond covered his face with his hands, to know that his friends had died such a horrible death, and that they could not even be afforded the peace of a respectful burial was too much.

“Thank you Rúmil…that will be all for now. Please find Lord Erestor, he will see to your accommodations, and those of the arriving party.”

“Yes milord.”

As the weary Galadhel slowly pulled the door closed behind him, he watched as Lord Elrond rose and crossed the room to his bathing chamber. The sound of the sensitive healer emptying his stomach into the washbasin brought tears to the young warrior’s eyes.

~~~

The sun rose high in the noon sky as the traveling party from Lórien, along with their escort, finally made their way to the Last Homely House. Slowly they entered the front gate and Glorfindel, along with several guards and members of the household staff, met them in the courtyard. As the others alit, Haldir moved forward to greet the commander of Imladris’ military force.

“Mae govannen Lord Glorfindel,” he said as he bowed his head and crossed his heart with his hand paying respect to the great golden lord. “I come bearing news of Lórien and the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. We have also come with our charge Andras seeking the healing powers of Master Elrond Eärendilion, Lord of Imladris.”

Glorfindel bowed in return saying, “Welcome then, to Imladris and the Last Homely House.”
With their formal greetings exchanged Glorfindel then embraced the March Warden; “Welcome old friend, it has been many moons since you and your brothers have come for a visit…you are here for a visit are you not? Please do not tell me that you are only here to deliver dispatches for we desperately need new faces and conversation in our midst.”

Haldir’s friendly expression changed reflecting the gravity of his undertaking as he replied to the golden warrior. “I fear our mission here is a serious one, how long we stay will depend on the healing skill of the Master of Imladris, for we have brought a gravely ill patient for his care.”

Turning, he gestured to the cart and the elf it carried. Lowering his voice, he gave Glorfindel as much information as he dared in such an open forum. “Andras was attacked…and received a grievous injury; the Lord and Lady have sent him here to Lord Elrond in the hope that he might be healed. With all due respect Glorfindel, we should get him inside to Lord Elrond as quickly as possible…he is in great pain and it has been a grueling journey for him…for all of us actually.”

“Of course, of course my friend, where are my manners? Please, everyone into the house. Brithil, Braneth…you and the rest of the patrol may stand down, please return to what you were doing before the call.”

“Aye milord Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel stood aside and watched as Timagol and Orophin gently removed Andras from the cart. Once again the strong arms of the Lórien guard held Andras as gently as if he were a delicate Celandine flower, moving cautiously so as not to further aggravate the injury. As they removed him from the cart, Orophin tenderly draped the afflicted arm with his cloak, obscuring the injury from the sight of curious onlookers. Andras weakly nodded his thanks then closed his eyes and rested his head on Timagol’s strong shoulder.

“All will be well now ‘Dras,” the sensitive warrior whispered, “you will see; Lord Elrond will make things right again.”

Erestor joined Glorfindel on the steps as the rest of the trail weary party slowly dismounted, and he began at once to organize everyone, seeing to it that each had their needs met as quickly as possible. The sprightly seneschal was completely in his element, directing Elwaith and Timagol, who still held Andras, to the healing wing while he sent a housemaid to fetch Elrond. The seneschal was a bit worried, for it was his Lord’s custom to greet all arrivals personally, and he had yet to make an appearance.

The next order of business, with help from Glorfindel and the twins, was to quickly escort Ingorn and Malrin to their room, while he sent Orophin ahead of them to the room he would share with Timagol. That done, Haldir, of course, insisted on waiting for Lord Elrond, as he was bound by Celeborn to officially submit them all into Elrond’s service for the duration of their stay. The March Warden was confident that Rúmil had given Elrond all the pertinent information they had about the attacks and Andras’ current condition, and now all that remained was to finish the formalities of transferring their service to the great elf Lord.

As the seneschal and the four warriors made their way through the corridors, the housemaid Erestor sent to find Elrond approached them, in what seemed to Erestor to be a somewhat harried state.

“Milord, I went to Lord Elrond as you instructed, but he seems to be….indisposed.” Looking at the assembled company the young maid was reticent to say anything more, and looked away shyly. Erestor, though steeped in tradition and the rules of decorum, was not one to mince words when it came to the welfare of Lord Elrond, and questioned the maid on the spot.

“Is our Lord ill Perwaen?”

“I am not sure Lord Erestor; he says that he is fine, but…”

“But what child?”

“But he sits with the drapes drawn, in the dark, in the middle of the day, and he made no move to come when I told him that we had visitors…I think he may need your assistance.”

“Very well Perwaen, continue with your duties, I will see to Lord Elrond.”

“Yes milord,” the young maid did a quick and proper curtsey while surreptitiously eyeing the tall blond Warden, then hastily scurried away back to the laundry.

Erestor’s eyebrow did an imitation of Elrond’s as he watched the young elleth leave. Turning then to Haldir he smiled a knowing smile and remarked, “Well my friend it would seem that you have captured the attention of yet another youngling.”

“Nonsense,” Haldir retorted, “strangers are always a source of…curiosity, for the young.”

“Be that as it may,” the counselor replied with a smirk, “Perwaen is very curious…and not that young.”
Haldir scoffed at the inference, as Glorfindel snorted in amusement. “I fear my beloved is right Haldir, I would watch my rear flank if I were you, Perwaen is one of three sisters, and the last to find a husband…she can be quite determined when she is of a mind to.”

“Nevertheless, I…we have more important things to deal with than husband hunting young maids,” Haldir replied in a huff.

“You are quite right my friend, forgive my little jest. Erestor, perhaps it would be best if Haldir and I wait here in his room while you see to Elrond, I do not like the sound of what Perwaen described. Please fetch me at once if there is anything amiss.”

“Perhaps my brother and I should go with you Erestor if there is something wrong with Adar we want to know now,” said Elladan.

“Aye,” Elrohir chimed in, “…though I can not think what it might be, I saw adar just a few hours ago, and he seemed fine.”

Erestor calmly answered, “No El, do not worry, I am sure it is nothing, your father was in good spirits and feeling fine just a little while ago. Perwaen, as you know has a talent for the dramatic…I am sure it is nothing more than that…but I will certainly come for you if there has been a change.”

”You are probably right Erestor, she does have a tendency to exaggerate at times,” he said smiling.

“Very well then…” Elladan added “I must go and get out of these clothes, as I have a previous appointment with my bed, too long have we been separated and I am anxious to get reacquainted. Haldir, I trust you will apprise Glorfindel of everything that has happened with Andras? It troubles me greatly that this attacker, whoever he is, seems to be moving closer to Imladris. Mindful of that…Erestor, if you would be so kind as to wake me when Glorfindel and Haldir meet with father to plan our strategy against this scurrilous fiend.”

“Of course, I will make sure that both you and Elrohir are included in any meetings.”

“Good,” the young elf said smiling, “now that that is settled I will take my leave…my bed awaits.”
As he and his brother turned to leave, they paused mid-way, the thought seeming to have struck them both at the same time. Again giving each other that knowing glance as Elrohir voiced the question that silently passed between them.

“Erestor…if you are here, and Ada is alone in his room… where is Estel?”

The seneschal’s head snapped quickly around, Elrohir was right, he had not seen Estel since Elrond took him down to the dining hall to break their fast, if Elrond was alone…

“Glorfindel have you…?”

“No dear heart, I have not seen the little one since before the twins rode out this morning?”
Erestor was all of a sudden panicked, trying to maintain his composure he responded as calmly as he could.

“Your father took him down to break fast about three hours ago…when he did not come right away for his lessons I assumed…”

Seeing Erestor’s distress Haldir spoke up, “That would have been right around the time that Rúmil would have arrived with my message.”

Having heard part of the conversation through the door, Rúmil opened the bedchamber door and posed his question.

“What would have been right around the time I arrived?”

“Ah, Rúmil…perchance did you see my little brother with father this morning?”

“Why yes, Lord Elrond introduced us when I arrived…just before we left for our meeting.”

“Do you know if he sent Estel to stay with someone, or if he took him to someone…?”

“He told the little one to stay in the kitchen and finish his meal; afterwards he was to go to his lessons. Why, is something wrong?”

Erestor’s nervous reply came quickly, “Estel did not come for his lesson this morning, I thought he was with still with Elrond. I was about to go looking for the two of them when all of you arrived.”

“I would not worry Erestor,” Rúmil quipped, “…he seems like a mindful little sort, and Lord Elrond did ask Lady Nénilya to keep an eye on him.”

“That explains it then,” Glorfindel said laughingly,”the Lady Nilya loves to spoil him, he is probably still in the kitchens stuffing himself with all manner of treats while surrounded by a bevy of doting ellith. I swear Haldir, if you or your brothers had any thought of more romantic pursuits in your off hours you had better watch your backs, for he is the only male here who commands the undivided attention of the ellith of Imladris at will.”

Elladan, who had by this time slipped into full protective mode spoke up, “Perhaps we had better go look for him El.”

“No, no no,” Erestor said, “I am sure everything is all right, the two of you go and get some rest, I will get him as soon as I have tended to your father.”

“But Erestor…”

“Do not worry, now go, rest, I will take care of everything.”

The twins looked at each other questioningly, and finally decided to agree, but with a caveat…“All right Erestor, but you will let us know immediately if you can not find him…mindful or not, Estel has a way of getting into things.”

The wise little seneschal nodded his agreement and headed off down the hallway. Truth be told, he too did not like the sound of anything he’d heard, Estel had not made his presence known when his brothers returned to the house, and it was totally uncharacteristic of Elrond to fail to greet his guests.

Further, to neglect to appear when someone was in need of healing…’No,’ he thought, ‘Perwaen probably did not tell him that there was someone who needed his help’. ‘Even in illness he would not be kept from that. He has been very tired lately…working entirely too many hours’. “Well…,” the loyal counselor said aloud as he straightened his robes with a firm tug and prepared to knock on Elrond’s door, ”…that will have to stop, and I intend to tell him so.”

Knocking hard on the door, Erestor waited for Elrond’s usual word of admittance. When none came, he slowly opened the door to find the Lord of Imladris sitting in the darkened chamber, lit only by the minimal glow from the dying embers in the hearth. The great elf sat stiffly in a high-backed chair staring at what was left of the fire.

“Milord?”

When no response came to his query, he posed it again, “Milord…?” Receiving no reaction Erestor moved immediately to the healer’s side. Taking a knee at Elrond’s feet Erestor placed a hand on the tired elf’s leg, shaking gently. “Elrond? Elrond are you all right?” Finally, the beleaguered elf turned his head to face his seneschal. His eyes were glazed with tears and the anguish in his voice was unmistakable.

“Erestor…something terrible has happened.”


Chapter 34 - The Healing Wing

Shortly before noon, the Lórien elves were led into the healing wing of the Last Homely House where they were met by Elrond’s chief apprentice Udalin. Udalin was a long time resident of the Elven refuge, having lived there for almost an age. Though his residence in Imladris was long, his time as a healer was relatively short, short that is for an elf. Elrond had taken Udalin on as an apprentice only 154 years ago after a particularly vicious border battle with a horde of renegade orcs. Thankfully, there were no deaths, but the injured seemed to come in droves and the healing wing was overrun with victims.

Udalin like many others, pitched in to lend a hand, and showed an amazing affinity for healing. When the battle was done, and the wounded mending and sleeping peacefully, Elrond called Udalin into his study and proposed that he begin training as a healer. Up to this point Udalin had been floundering, doing a little of this and a little of that, and had not found his true calling, a way to contribute to the survival and upkeep of Imladris.

When Elrond’s offer came, the eager elf jumped at the chance, flattered by his Lord’s confidence in his ability. From that day to this, Udalin had been at Elrond’s side learning everything he could about healing, and in his Lord’s absence the ambitious elf was in complete and unquestioned charge of the healing wing; unquestioned that is until today.

As Timagol gently placed Andras on one of the beds, Elwaith began to gingerly unwrap the elf’s arm, and a new battle ensued. “Please stand aside,” Udalin ordered as he moved towards Andras’ bed, “I will handle things from here.”

“With all due respect…,” Elwaith answered, “Andras is badly injured I think it best if I continue with his treatment until Lord Elrond arrives.”

Udalin was somewhat taken aback by what he deemed to be the elf’s audacity, and said as much.

“Respect noted, but nevertheless, until Lord Elrond arrives I am in charge of this infirmary and I will take care of any patients brought in until my lord arrives.”

Elwaith was tired, too tired to argue with an elf that at best seemed pushy, and at worst was rude. He was also afraid, afraid that the elf would cause more harm than good and he was not about to surrender his charge to anyone other than the Lord of Imladris himself. Standing up slowly, he faced the healer head on and made his own pronouncement.

“Respectfully, Master…?”

“Udalin” the elf replied, knowing full well that the ‘benefit of doubt’ that Elwaith had afforded him in regard to his ‘position’ was as yet unearned. He had yet to attain the title of ‘Master’ of anything. He was 1st assistant, nothing more.

“Respectfully, Master Udalin, you have no idea what you are dealing with here, and I have no intention of releasing Andras to the care of anyone other than Lord Elrond.”

Furious, Udalin mounted his attack…“How dare you? You impudent young pup…”

However, he never got the chance to finish the sentence, for Timagol was now on his feet and coming to Elwaith’s side, and the young healer’s short temper silenced all further discussion.

“How dare I? I will tell you how I dare…were you with this elf when he was attacked? Were you the one who rode with him non-stop day and night for four days while he screamed in agony? Were you the one who developed the only potion that seems to bring him some comfort from his torment? Or perhaps you were the one who rode with him in the back of a cart all the way from Lóthlórien, praying that you could come up with something, anything that would relieve his pain and restore his arm to usefulness? I submit to you sir that you were not!

You speak of age as though time is something of consequence to an elf. I say to you that trying to reckon time is a foolish waste of yours! However old you are, I suspect that I have been a healer for quite a bit longer than you have, for you do not seem to have acquired as yet, the wisdom that says that the first responsibility must be to the patient, not to who has been left to run the infirmary! I dare sir because I have been charged with the welfare of this elf by Lord Celeborn himself - to deliver him into the hands of Lord Elrond – and Lord Elrond alone. And as long as there is breath in my body I will carry out that charge – and I will not allow anyone to stand in my way!”

“Enough!” came the shouted voice of Erestor from the doorway, and then a gentler tone was heard as the Master entered the room…”Consider your charge fulfilled Elwaith…I am here.”

________________________________________

There was certainly a lot of excitement going on in the house, or at least that’s what Estel thought as he skipped along the corridor heading for Erestor’s study. Finally reaching his destination the little one stopped, straightened his tunic, and knocked on the large oak door. Waiting patiently for all of five seconds for a response, he knocked again. When again he received no answer, he looked up and down the hallway for someone who might open the door for him. Seeing no one, he decided that perhaps now would be a good time to go and see if his Ada was finished talking to the new blond warrior. Heading for his father’s study Estel was intrigued by all the hustle and bustle; peeking into the laundry, he heard the ellith talking animatedly about all the handsome warriors who had just arrived from Lórien. Perwaen in particular seemed to be exceptionally excited about someone named ‘Hal-deer’. He stood in the doorway listening for quite a while before the enthusiastic females took notice.

“Estel “ Perwaen exclaimed, “…what are you doing here little one, do you need something?”

“I am trying to find my Ada.”

“Your father is in his sammoth little one, but I think he,” she hesitated, “he is supposed to go to the healing wing, there is an injured warrior who needs his help.”

Hearing this news, a scowl came over the child’s face and Estel became instantly fearful saying "Iss not my brudders is it?”

“No little one, your brothers are fine, I just saw them a while ago.”

Slightly relieved, the child continued…"What about Glorfy, iss not Glorfy or Linwë is it?”

Perwaen realized that she needed to put the boy’s mind at ease, otherwise she could be there all day eliminating warriors. “No Estel, it is not anyone from Imladris, the sick warrior has come from Lórien.”

“Perwaen do you know where ‘Westor is? I pwamiced Ada I would go to my lessons, but ‘Westor is not in his room, and I don’ know where he is.”

“Why do you not come in here and keep us company until Lord Erestor returns…he should be back soon Estel, he is getting the visitors settled in their rooms.”

Estel looked rather forlorn, he was hoping to find Erestor quickly so he could keep his promise, but mostly so he could ask questions about the newcomers . He was fairly sure, after listening in the doorway, that the maidens didn’t know much about what was going on, and both his father and Erestor had always told him to go straight to the person who knew the most about a subject if he had questions . With that in mind, Estel contemplated his options and decided that staying with the maidens probably wasn’t the best way to find out what was happening, he needed to find a warrior if he wanted to know what all the hubbub was about.

“No t’sank you Perwaen, I t’ink I better go find Roh…he can help me,” and with that the little one was off and running towards his brother’s room. Racing, or as close to it as he could get, up the stairs, he rounded the corner heading to Elrohir’s chambers and ran headlong into the legs of one of his favorite people…Cilinwë.

“Whoa there my little warrior,” the dark haired elf said as he scooped the boy up and held him overhead with one hand while the child giggled hysterically. “Where are you heading in such a rush Estel? I see that you have all your clothes on so you cannot be running from a bath…where are you going?”

As he lowered the child into his arms Estel immediately started asking questions. “Linwë who are all da new warriors in da house? Perwaen said dey came all the way from Lórien…is Lórien far away Linwë? Linwë whas hebenly? Perwaen said Hal-deer was hebenly.”

“Hebenly Estel?”

“Yeth, Perwaen said he was dreamy, he was hebenly.”

“Oh… you mean ‘heavenly’ Estel, heavenly.”

“Yeth dat, whas dat mean?”

“It means I think, that Perwaen….likes the way Haldir looks.”

“Oh…, does she not like da way we look?”

“Oh I am sure she does little one, but I think it means she likes Haldir in a …special way.”

“Oh…, are we not special?”

Cilinwë was more than acquainted with where this conversation was headed and tried to head off some of the questions with a query of his own. “Yes little one we are special too, but you have not answered me…where are you headed?”

“I tryin’ to find Roh, so he can help me.”

“What do you need help with Estel, perhaps I may be of assistance.”

“Woud you?”

“If I can…what seems to be the problem?”

“I wan’ to know who all da warriors are. Why did dey come here Linwë?”

Cilinwë was now mentally kicking himself; he should have known that once Estel had a thought in his head there would be no avoiding it until he had the answers to everything. Laughing in spite of himself Cilinwë countered, “All right little inquisitor…I will answer all your questions about our visitors if you will answer some questions for me first.”

The child nodded enthusiastically in the affirmative saying, “Wha you wanna know?”

“Does your adar know where you are?”

“I don’ t’ink so, Ada told me to go to lessons but Westor wassen dere.”

“So Erestor does not know where you are either?”

“Nope.”

“What about your brothers, do they know where you are?”

“Nope.”

Estel played with Cilinwë’s braids as the warrior bounced him in his arms and said, “Well then, the first thing we have to do is to let someone know where you are, if you are supposed to be at lessons then Erestor is probably pulling his hair out wondering what has happened to you.”

“You t’ink Westor is pullin’ his hair out?” the child said incredulously . “Den we better hurry cause I like Westor’s hair, iss just like yours, he said as he continued to finger Cilinwë’s braids, “…sides I don’ t’ink Ada wants to have a bald ‘sistent, he will look funny at council.”

Cilinwë’s laugh echoed throughout the corridor as he tried to imagine a bald Erestor sitting counsel with Lord Elrond. “I think you are right little one, we had better find our friend straight away for you are correct,” he said as he tickled the child, “he would look quite silly with no hair.”

Continuing to tease the giggling bundle in his arms the sword master was glad he’d taken his time coming into the house, for he’d run into the little one who was so much as he had once been. Carrying the boy down the corridor to Erestor’s rooms he once again thanked Eru for this blessing that had come so unexpectedly into his life, and silently vowed once more to always be there when Estel needed him.

“Now,” he said cheerfully, “…about those warriors….”


Chapter 35 - Battle Lines Drawn

As the Master of the Last Homely House approached the bed that held the body of the injured ostler, his seneschal separated the two healers. Lowering his voice to just above a whisper Erestor spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes squinted, his face contorted in an uncharacteristic scowl, and made his displeasure known as he took them to task.

“In all my long days in Imladris I have never witnessed such an unseemly display of behavior, the moment you have finished with your duties assisting Lord Elrond you will both report to me in my study…be prepared to explain yourselves and under no circumstance is there to be a repeat performance of this outrageous conduct…I trust I have made myself clear?”

Both elves were at once apologetic, with Elwaith speaking first. The usually mild mannered healer’s cheeks flushed a bright crimson as he sought to quell Erestor’s anger. ”I beg your pardon Lord Erestor, please forgive my outburst, it was not my intention to cause dissention or havoc in a space that should be a quiet place of respite.”

“I too must beg your pardon Lord Erestor,” Udalin cut in, “I apologize…I should have been more… understanding…and more reasonable in my approach.”

The two healers looked at Erestor beseechingly, and the seneschal could tell that they were indeed contrite. “It is not I to whom you owe your apologies,” Erestor said in a calmer tone, “our Lord does not need this kind of animosity flowing through the halls of his home – especially not on a day such as this one. I suggest you make your apologies to him,” said the irate little counselor, then leaning in close to the two he added…"at once!”

Turning, the two properly chastised elves made their way to Elrond’s side. As they began to speak, Elrond silenced them with a wave of his hand saying, “Assuage your guilty feelings another time; my concern is here, with Andras.”

The ancient healer sat perched on the edge of the bed, quietly soothing Andras while he gently unwrapped his arm. Udalin stood at Elrond’s side while Elwaith circled around to the opposite edge of the bed. Looking down at the elf he could see the perspiration beginning to bead on his forehead, a definite sign that the painkillers were wearing off. Elwaith quickly took a pitcher from the bedside table and poured a goodly amount of cool water into the accompanying basin. Udalin provided a clean cloth and Elwaith smiled faintly while nodding his thanks as he dipped the cloth into the water and dabbed gently at the elf’s brow. Andras looked back and forth between the three anxiously, and Elwaith knew at once what fears now tried to claim his friend. Gently taking Andras’ chin in his hand he turned the lad’s face toward him and speaking softly did his best to reassure the frightened elf.

“Andras, this is Lord Elrond Eärendilion, do you remember our talk…what I told you about him?”
The young elf looked fearful and near to the edge of breakdown. Elwaith continued to wipe his brow trying to distract the elf as more and more of his arm was exposed to Elrond’s view.

“We have reached Imladris young one…do not let fear take you now Andras, for our fight is about to begin…your champion is here,” then looking up at Udalin he added, “…and he has brought a second…Master Udalin.”

Udalin smiled gently down at the elf and nodded his affirmation, as Elrond finally laid the arm bare. Udalin’s heart fluttered and his breath hitched in his throat as he caught sight of the arm for the first time. He composed himself quickly, but not quickly enough, for both Elrond and Andras took note of his shock. As Andras jerked his head back to check the expressions on their faces, Elrond placed his hand gently alongside the elf’s face and turned it again so he could only look at him.

“Andras, Elwaith is right, you must not lose faith, we have a battle before us and I promise you, we…I will do everything in my power to win this fight. You are not alone Andras and there is nothing to fear, I will be your champion, and…” he added with a smile, “…I am not accustomed to losing.”

“All right then,” he said as he looked to the two healers beside him. “Let us get started. Elwaith, Rúmil tells me that you have brought an herb with you from Rohan, and that you have been using it with some success on the injury.”

“Yes milord, it has given him some limited relief… but it shows great promise milord, I thought that perhaps, with your knowledge…”

“Yes, we will start there. Udalin you and Elwaith get our young friend here out of these travel clothes, see to it that he is bathed and get him into something comfortable. I suggest we use only sleeping breeches for the time being, no sense repeatedly jostling his arm trying to get him in and out of a nightshirt. Udalin send Berach to the kitchens and have Lady Nilya make him a good strong broth, have them bring hot fresh bread with butter and honey, and add some diced chicken to the broth.”

“Yes milord.”

“We must first build up our young friend’s strength,” he said as he patted Andras softly on the chest. Turning his attention back to Andras he quietly added, “Andras, Udalin is going to make you something that will put you to sleep for a short while…” the great elf lord motioned with his head and Udalin raced to do his bidding.

“I do not want you to continue to worry over this, that is my task now - when you awake everything will already have been done, you will be bathed and clean – that in and of itself will make you feel better, and there will be a tray of hot food to fill your stomach. I will allow your friends to come in for a short while to visit with you, and meanwhile Elwaith, Udalin, and I will begin our work to find the answer…to find a cure.”

Turning then to the Lórien healer he said, “Elwaith, once Andras is asleep I want you and Udalin to move him into one of the more private healing chambers…one with a larger bed; make sure he has plenty of room and that there are ample chairs for his visitors,” then smiling down at Andras added, “…I am sure there will be quite a few of them.”

Andras’ voice was shaky, Elwaith’s potion was indeed wearing off, and he fought now to maintain control over the pain.

“Mm.. Milord? Do you think?” unable to hold it back any longer he finally broke down in tears. Elwaith was immediately on his knees at the young elf’s side gently stroking his hair and dabbing at his brow, cheek, and upper chest with the cool cloth.

“Do not weep ‘Dras…do not weep, we are here now, and everything will be all right. Is that not so Lord Elrond?” he said as he looked anxiously to the elder elf.

Elrond looked Andras in the eye as he told the elf the truth. ”I will not lie to you Andras, there is great evil at play here, and magic.” “But evil cannot triumph here in Imladris,” he said as he absentmindedly fingered the invisible sapphire ring on his hand. “And for every feat of magic there is a counter spell, I will find the answer young one…be at peace…whatever it takes, I will find the answer.”


Chapter 36 - Evil Encroaches

The forests of Imladris were unusually quiet, an uneasy silence had descended on the trees, and the sky began to cloud over. Not the usual light puffy white wisps, but dark grey, brooding clouds that seemed to appear out of nowhere. They rolled in from the south, and brought with them an unexpected rain. Skies that only moments before were clear and bright, now turned dark and ominous, as if they originated in the very bowels of Mordor itself. The rain began as a light pittering on the leaves and grass, and within minutes changed into a full-fledged downpour that sent even the hardiest of animals scurrying to find cover.

As the wind picked up, the residents of the last homely house began rushing to close doors that had been left open for the light spring breeze, and laundry maids hurried to remove the wash from the lines before it became drenched. Chambermaids hastened from room to room shuttering the windows as the black clouds rolled ever closer, and the Lord of Imladris pulled closed the draperies that hung on the windows of the healing wing, while Vilya silently throbbed against his finger. Closing the window covering, he stood there for a moment quietly contemplating the sudden appearance of the storm. He twirled the blue ring round and round his finger not wanting to believe what he knew to be true; evil…some evil was attempting to gain entry into his realm.

Glancing back over his shoulder, there was no doubt in his mind that it had something to do with the elf that now lay so helpless in his infirmary. The young one was being stalked, like some unfortunate two legged prey…someone, some thing was hunting him; trying to finish the task it started. Elrond turned abruptly from the window and strode purposefully from the room into the corridor. Stopping the first elf he came upon he issued his orders in a tone that left no doubt as to his frame of mind.
“Find the Lords Glorfindel and Erestor and send them to my study at once, I will also need to see Haldir and his brothers…and if they are not up – wake my sons.”

The great elf lord never broke stride, the determination in his step was obvious as he continued down the hallway heading straight for the chamber of his Master of Swords…Cilinwë.

As the clouds grew darker and closer, rumblings of thunder were heard coming from the outskirts of the previously peaceful Elven realm. The reverberating sound became ever louder and within moments of the thunder announcing its presence, the crack of lightning like the harsh snap of some huge white whip was seen lighting up the sky. Foxes and rabbits dodged back to their burrows and even the more tenacious creatures like the badgers and beavers sought cover in their dens. The uncomfortable turbulence in the air affected even the usually steadfast horses, and Colwandë, the long-time stable master had his hands full trying to calm the agitated stallions.

Elrohir’s stallion Gaer-sûl (Sea Wind) repeatedly pawed the ground in his enclosure, while his twin Gaer-âr (Sea King) paced nervously back and forth. Asfaloth, who, on a good day, was considered to be the most high-spirited and cantankerous horse of the lot, had backed himself into a corner of his stall, ears pinned back against his head and nostrils flared as if he was trying to hide from some heretofore unseen danger. Colwandë was at a loss to explain it; he was just about to cross to the other side of the stable when two more horses came barreling into the enclosure. Erestor’s black Sûl-linnon (Wind Singer) and Elrond’s bay mare Barandir (Brown Wanderer).

Calling on help from his squires, they began entering each stall trying desperately to quiet the animals. Most were easily settled, however, the three big stallions and the finicky mare were having none of it. Each time the gate to his stall was opened, Gaer-sûl reared as if preparing to strike and Gaer-âr charged the fence, threatening to run over anyone entering his stall - and the rain poured ever harder. From his balcony doors, Haldir watched the heavy rain turn into a torrential downpour. As he stood there observing the dramatic change in the weather, his brother Rúmil approached and quietly stood at his side taking it all in.

“Have you ever seen the like of it Haldir?”

“No Rúmil, I have not. It is my understanding that Lord Elrond does not…’control’ things here as they are controlled in Lothlórien.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes Rúmil, like our lady he has the power to do so and chooses to give nature her head…this storm is not of his doing.”

“It does not look as though Mother Nature had anything to do with it either.”

“No, my brother it does not, you are observant as always…this is not the work of anything natural.”

“Tell me that I am mistaken in my thinking Haldir. It could not be that Andras’ attacker…”

“We are of the same mind little brother, whatever ‘thing’ attacked Andras, whatever it was, it possesses great power to be able to do what it did to him. I believe it has tracked us here to Imladris.”

“But there was nothing…no one on the trail…I swear to you Haldir I was vigilant and I saw no one.”
Haldir placed his hand on Rúmil’s shoulder in a calming gesture and replied, “Peace little brother, peace…I did not say it to cast aspersions on your ability as a sentry, I know only too well that there is little that escapes your eye…very little. No brother, this thing whatever it is, kept well away from us; I am sure of that, we were too many for it. At the village it had only to contend with untrained, sleeping farmers…”

“…and innocents who had no hope of defending themselves,” Rúmil added forlornly.

“Exactly, this time it was confronted with a contingent of well armed warriors, and it kept its distance.” Staring out at the pouring rain, Haldir mulled over this revelation. This was information that Lord Elrond needed to know immediately, waiting until all were rested for a formal transfer of their duties to the House of Elrond was no longer an option. Turning away from the balcony doors he hurried to pull on his tunic and looked for his boots as he spoke.

“Hurry Rúmil, get dressed, we must seek an audience with Lord Elrond at once, this threat, like the storm, is growing nearer. I do not know why this enemy has singled out Andras…perhaps it was only dumb luck that brought the two of them together, but it is obvious to me now that whoever or whatever this is seeks to finish the work that it started.”

“Then we must stop him!” Rúmil said angrily.

“Fear not little brother that is exactly what we will do, no more harm will come to Andras, an oath we have sworn, and an oath we will fulfill.”

Strapping on his dagger and slipping another in the top of his boot Rúmil was grim faced as he strode toward the door, “I will fetch Orophin and meet you outside Lord Elrond’s apartments.”

“Good, hurry brother, I believe this storm to be a harbinger of things to come, and we must be ready.”

“We will be,” Rúmil said as he moved through the open door heading for the room that Orophin shared with Timagol, “…we will be.


Chapter 37 - True Friends Always Understand

Estel sat contentedly on a footstool near the fireplace in Cilinwë’s chambers, happily munching on a sweet biscuit, easily retrieved from Lady Nilya, and sipping on a cup of buttermilk. The little one’s eyes were wide with amazement as this was his first time inside his hero’s apartments. The grin plastered on his face was priceless, Estel was in warrior heaven. There was no doubt in his mind that he was the first, the very first person in his family to be invited into the sword master’s personal rooms.

Cilinwë was known as a very private elf, very much like his ‘Westor; for the most part he kept to himself during his off duty time. Oh, certainly he could be found in the Hall of Fire during those times when there were celebrations or parties, and sometimes after long stints of border patrol the sentries would gather there along with Lord Glorfindel to recount tales of their nights of duty, and to trade exaggerated stories of their encounters and their boredom.

However, for the most part, if he was not in the field, or training the younger warriors, he spent his time traveling between Lord Elrond’s extensive library and his sammoth. Estel knew that Erestor would visit from time to time as he and Cilinwë were long time friends, and on occasion Estel overheard conversations that suggested that Glorfindel also spent time visiting in the sword master’s rooms. However, to the best of his knowledge neither of his brothers or his Ada had ever been inside Linwë’s private chamber and he felt quite honored to be the first.

Estel sat as patiently as any three year old ever could, waiting for Linwë to finish his conversation with his tutor. He and the sword master had finally located Erestor as he exited the healing wing, and the Seneschal indicated that he had something private that he needed to discuss, so Estel had been asked to sit quietly while Erestor conducted some important business.

As he sat, his eyes traveled the room trying to take in everything he could, and there was a lot to see. Linwë had paintings, many paintings, paintings of almost everyone Estel knew, and some of people he’d never seen before. There was one of his Ada in his formal red robes, one of each of the twins, and another with the two together on horseback. There were drawings of Erestor, one of him at council meeting and another of him outside, sitting under a tree near the Bruinen.

There was a portrait over the mantle of an elf with a silver circlet on his head and he carried a long spear. Estel was not sure who he was, but he thought that he must be someone important because his was the largest portrait in the room. Positioned on the mantle were four smaller drawings of dark-haired elves wearing helms with various insignia; and just this side of the balcony door Estel saw the source of all these paintings, an easel sitting atop a drop cloth of sorts, that was covered in splattered paint. Aside the easel was a small table, also covered in a cloth, and atop it sat a variety of small pots and jars that held numerous brushes and finely colored chalks. Drawing and painting were two of Estel’s favorite things to do, and as he sat here now he wondered if Cilinwë would allow him to draw a picture.

On a side table near the window was a small drawing of a beautiful elleth whose long dark hair was elaborately braided around the crown of her head, Estel thought that she looked a lot like Cilinwë and guessed that she must be his Naneth as her smile was big and bright just like his. In a corner of the room there was a large wooden box with a cloth thrown over the top, and the child was dying to take a peek and find out what was inside; but he knew that would not be polite, so he kept his seat.

In the center of the dressing table lay a small hand mirror and a comb and brush set made with elaborate mithril filigree. They did not look as though they had been used, and another more modest set of tortoise shell lay on a table near the bed, giving testament to the fact that the mithril set was indeed for display only. Centered on the far wall of the room was a large four-poster bed with crisp white linens. It was not as big as the bed that Glorfy and ‘Westor used, and it didn’t have a top on it, but with all the pillows and thick handmade coverlets, it looked soft and comfy. On a desk near the balcony doors Estel saw several stacks of books, and a small pile of parchment situated near an inkwell which held a black plumbed quill. An elaborately carved wooden rack held an equally elaborate bow and a hand tooled leather quiver, and all around the room in different little groupings there were weapons, or more precisely swords. Swords of all kinds, some straight, some curved, some long, some short, some plain and others that were very fancy.

There were twin swords with silver hilts inlaid with some kind of dark colored wood; Estel recognized the wood from one of his lessons with Erestor as the kind called “Eb-nee.” The wood looked smooth, as did the silver colored metal into which it was set, and the swords appeared to have been handled many times. To one side of the mantle there was a set of daggers encrusted with small red jewels, the handles were inlaid with mother-of-pearl and on the other side hung Linwë’s baldric, which held the ivory handled short swords that he wore whenever he was on duty.

As he finished his biscuit he reached down to retrieve his cup and to his shock and horror he missed the handle of the cup and wound up tipping it over, spilling buttermilk all over the beautiful antique rug in front of the hearth. Both little hands came up to cover his mouth and quiet the loud gasp that threatened to escape his lips. Tears filled the boy’s eyes as he watched the ever-widening puddle of milk splay out and then soak into the obviously expensive carpet.

There it was then…he would never be allowed back into Linwë’s rooms again, all he had to do was sit still and eat his biscuit and he could not even do that right. As he looked over his shoulder towards the doorway he could see that Erestor and Cilinwë were still deep in conversation; what was he to do? Desperately he looked around the room trying to find anything that he could use to wipe up the milk. Finding nothing, he did the only thing he could think of to do…he unfastened his tunic, pulled it off over his head and began to use it to sop up the spill.

Estel worked diligently trying to get the milk up, but that part of the liquid that spilled on the floor just seemed to get bigger and bigger as he wiped at it. By this time tears were rolling down the boy’s cheeks, the more he worked the larger the puddle seemed to get. His tunic had become little more than a cloth to spread the offending liquid, and he knew now that there was no way he would be able to clean it up. Linwë would never speak to him again, of this he was sure. Kneeling there in the middle of the mess turning his ruined tunic over and over in his hands, the knees of his leggings soaked through, the child began to cry wholeheartedly. Hearing Estel’s sobs, Erestor and Cilinwë rushed back into the room to find the half-dressed child sobbing uncontrollably.

“Estel…” Erestor exclaimed, “…what in Arda?”

Wailing, Estel rose running to Erestor wrapping himself around his protector’s knees.

Burying his face in the seneschal’s legs the words were muffled but could be understood as they were broken up by sniffles. “I dinna (sniff) mean (sniff), to do it ‘Westor…I swearrr!”

After regaining a small measure of composure the words continued, “It fell… (sniff) …and, I… (sniff)…couldna clean it up! It was… on...da...rug an I couldna…clean it up.”

Now thoroughly upset, the little voice continued, “I messed up ‘Linwë’s rug…and now I canna come back…(a hiccup)…I won be his little warrior….any…more!” Estel broke down into full-blown sobs.

As Erestor tried to unwrap Estel from his knees Cilinwë quietly walked over to the table and retrieved the pitcher that sat there, returning to the hearth he called Estel to him.

“Estel”

The little one buried his face deeper into the Seneschal’s robes and cried on. Finally Erestor was able to pry the boy loose, and knelt down beside the child. As he was about to speak Cilinwë interrupted him, “Erestor…please…allow me…this is between Estel and me.”

Erestor looked up at the pitcher in the warrior’s hand and though he was reluctant to release Estel to be chastised by anyone, he knew that the child would never learn to face life without fear if he didn’t start now.

Turning the child around to face the sword master he said “Estel…Master Cilinwë is speaking to you.”

Expecting the worse, the teary-eyed child turned with his head down in shame, and raised heartbroken eyes to look at the master of swords through long wet lashes.

“Estel come here.”

Hesitantly the child moved forward, remembering only now what Erestor and his Ada always told him about facing your punishment for the bad things you did in the world. Cilinwë knelt beside the still crying child and asked, “Estel…is this the same milk that you spilled on my carpet?”

The little one nodded his head in the affirmative, terrified of what punishment Cilinwë would issue. Having received his answer the master of swords slipped his arm around Estel’s waist and proceeded to turn the pitcher upside down, slowly pouring almost a full ewer of milk out onto the carpet as he spoke.

“Estel, the milk is not important to me…and I do not care about the carpet…I care about you. You are important to me Melyanna, I would not care if you spilled 10 ewers of milk on that rug…you are always welcome here, and you will always be my little warrior, no matter what.”

“For weal?”

“For real.”

Estel threw his arms so tightly around Cilinwë’s neck that he almost knocked him over.

“I wuv you Linwë!”

“I love you too little warrior,” he said as he hugged the child and soothingly patted him on his back.

“Now,” he said smiling, “…we shall have no more of these tears…right?”

Mustering the most serious look he could; Estel gave his apology and his explanation.

“I sorry Linwë, I dinna mean to do it, honest, it was a acci.. acci…,” unable to come up with the proper pronunciation of the word, Estel leaned in and cut to the chase, “…the cup did it.”

Erestor and Linwë burst into laughter while Estel stood there mystified, wondering why all the grownups around him seemed to find the things he did so funny.


Chapter 38 - Explanations and Strategy

Explanations

Nearing Cilinwë’s sammoth Elrond could hear the sound of laughter. In his present state of mind he hated knowing that he would soon bring that levity to an end, but some things were unavoidable. The safety of the residents of Imladris was in jeopardy and he needed all his best people to be of one mind and one purpose now; to protect and defend the Last Homely House by any means necessary. Finally reaching the door his eyes beheld an extremely unusual scene; Cilinwë kneeling beside a half dressed Estel in what seemed to be an ever widening pool of…milk?”

“Erestor? What is going on here?”

“Lord Elrond, I know this must all look rather strange.”

“To say the least Erestor…why is Estel half dressed? And why is there milk all over the…” the implication finally hit him.

“Estel did you do this?”

“Oh no Ada,” he said as he vigorously shook his head no. Then grinning from ear to ear, he pointed his little finger and incriminated his friend.

“Linwë did it.”

Elrond’s patience, which was already hanging on by a thread, was pushed to the limit. His eyebrow hitched up toward his hairline and his voice took on a more stern timbre.

“Estel, you are telling me that Master Cilinwë poured what appears to be an entire pitcher of milk on his floor…on purpose?”

“Yeth.”

Finally, in an effort to clarify the situation and calm Elrond’s already frayed nerves, Erestor spoke for Estel…

“My lord, Estel spilled a small cup of milk on the rug and was fearful that Cilinwë would no longer allow him in his chambers…and worse that he would no longer be his friend. Cilinwë was just demonstrating what is important to him and what is not. That their friendship supersedes anything as trivial as milk on a carpet.”

“I see…I think. Would someone please explain to me why this demonstration requires my child to be half dressed?”

“When I spilled my milk I tried to clean it up Ada…I couldna find a rag…so I used my tunic. You told me to always clean up my messes Ada…member?”

Elrond closed his eyes and pinched the area above the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off the headache that was threatening to further complicate his day. “Yes Estel, I remember. I also see that I need to be a little more specific about what to use when you clean up your messes,” he said as a faint smile formed on his lips, then turning he addressed the adults…

“Cilinwë, Erestor I need both of you for a meeting in my study, I would like to get this done before the call to luncheon. Erestor if you would first escort Estel back to his room and see to it that he is bathed and gets another tunic…and if you can find one of the housemaids to watch over him until our meeting is completed I would be most appreciative.”

“Ada did you break you fast?”

“No ion nín I did not have time to eat this morn, I have much to do today.”

Moving over to ‘inspect’ his father’s condition, Estel tugged on Elrond’s robe, their private signal that Estel needed Elrond to come down to his level for further ‘consultation’. Kneeling now beside the child, Elrond prepared himself for heaven only knew what kind of chastising.

“Ada…you know you ‘posed to break fast.” Placing his sticky, wet hands on either side of his father’s face the little one made his inspection. “You head hurts don’ it?”

Smiling the elder elf answered, “Yes little one it does.”

”Dat’s cause you dinna have you meal…dat’s not good,” he said shaking his head for emphasis. Then pointing his finger at Elrond he issued his edict.

“When you finish you meeting you go straight to the dining hall for noon meal. No ‘scuses. You cann’t work on a em-tee tummy. Youl get sick.”

Erestor pressed his lips together as tightly as he could, but it still did not disguise the obvious look of amusement on his face. Unable to control his grin he rolled his eyes skyward and looked away, while likewise, the sword master suddenly found something of compelling interest on the ceiling of his room. Elrond himself was having a difficult time keeping a straight face, and nearly bit a hole through the inside of his cheek in his effort not to laugh out loud. This child would one day be a tenacious adversary, that much was clear, and his penchant for trying to take care of the adults around him was a good indication that he might also have some ability as a healer. What was also clear was that he expected the rules of the house to apply to everyone, including his father, so who was he to tell him otherwise.

“You are quite right Estel, one cannot function well on an empty stomach, and as soon as my meeting is concluded I will go straightaway for my noon meal.”

“Good.” Using a fairly good imitation of his father, the child leaned over and whispered in Elrond’s ear the phrase that had many times been directed at him. “I dinna want to have to say dat in front of da udders, but rules are rules, ’sides…I have a s’prise for you for meal time.”

“Ahhh, a surprise you say?”

“Yeth.”

“Well then in that case you may order me around any time you like, for I love surprises, and I shall try and make this meeting especially quick so that we can luncheon together and I can receive my surprise.”

“Good!” Finished now with the conversation, Estel, as usual, turned and began another…

“Come on ‘Westor,” he said as he tugged on the Seneschal’s robes, ”we have to go get me dressed so you can go to da meeting so Ada can be finished.”

Extending his hand to the boy the counselor replied, “Of course Master Elrondion, let us be off.”

“Bye Ada…bye Cilinwë! I see you later for noon meal Ada don’ forget.”

“I will not forget son, I will see you then.”



Strategy:

As Estel and Erestor made their way down the corridor to the stairway, Elrond advised Cilinwë of the meeting that would be called to order in his study in a few minutes. He carefully wiped the buttermilk from the sides of his face and bid Cilinwë to accompany him to the room, hoping that on the way they would come across one of the servants to clean up the milk he’d poured all over the floor.

Moving down the hallway, they were met by the twins, both of whom seemed somewhat disconcerted. Elladan had only just slipped into reverie when the knock on his door came summoning him to the meeting. Elrohir was still toweling off after taking his bath when he was interrupted, the two had been exchanging scenarios as to why their father was calling them back so quickly to a meeting, and none of their reasons had been good ones. As their father approached, it was Elrohir who spoke first.

“Adar, what has happened? No sooner than we got to our rooms we were summoned back, is something amiss?”

“You have but to look outside my brother to know that something is amiss, that is no ordinary storm that rages outside our door.” Almost on cue Elladan’s statement was punctuated by a brilliant flash of lightning and the booming sound of thunder that made it seem as if the storm was directly over the house.

“Elladan is quite right, it is the storm, or more correctly what has brought the storm to our gates that has me worried.”

At that moment Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil rounded the corner with Glorfindel fast on their heels. As they joined the group assembled outside Elrond’s study, Malrin came running down the hallway from the other direction, finally reaching them he said, “I beg your pardon for running through your home milord, but when I heard of the meeting I rushed here as quickly as I could, I have been watching this storm, and I believe there is more to it than just an ordinary storm.”

“Well, it would seem that we are all of like mind on this matter, please, everyone into the study, there is much to discuss.”

Filing into the room the elves took various positions around the council table, Elrond sat at the head of the large table with Glorfindel to his right and Elladan on the left. As always, Cilinwë stood just behind his lord’s right shoulder, Elrohir seated himself next to Glorfindel with Orophin and then Malrin to his right. Haldir made himself comfortable next to Elladan with his second in command, Rúmil, to his left. As Elrond prepared to speak to the group, he bid Glorfindel to fetch the maps of Imladris from the map chest, and while the commander retrieved them, Erestor silently entered the room with two servers. They positioned two trays, one containing goblets and two carafes of mulled wine, and the other a steaming pot of jasmine tea with enough sweet biscuits and cups for the lot. That done he set a cup of tea in front of his lord, dismissed the servants and quietly assumed his usual position standing at Elrond’s left shoulder.

Glorfindel spread the most detailed map of Imladris out on the table. An extremely thorough rendering, thanks in part, to the hard work of a once very frightened new Seneschal. It noted every primary and secondary trail, every sentry post, every nook, cave, crack or cranny where one might try to conceal oneself. Erestor found it was necessary, after half of Imladris and two extremely distraught parents had spent three days trying to locate the whereabouts of a set of disgruntled, twin elflings; runaways, who were fleeing their punishment over a broken vase more than 2800 years ago. In latter years the map had been a valuable asset on more than one occasion and had undergone many updates and revisions. Once everyone was in place Elrond rose and addressed the assembly…

“As you have noted, the sudden storm that flails at our door is of an unusual intensity…I have come to believe that the reason for it is far more sinister than you can imagine.” Fingering Vilya he continued, “I sense a great evil at the heart of this storm, someone or something…some power that has yet to reveal itself to us is causing this upheaval, and I am convinced that whatever it is – for whatever reason, it has come here after Andras.”

“No!” shouted Malrin as he suddenly stood at the end of the table, “We cannot let it have him.”
Haldir shot him a displeased glare, this was not the way for a representative of Lórien to behave; and as other voices joined Malrin’s expressing their similar feelings the stern and commanding voice of the Seneschal was heard.

“Silence! Our Lord is speaking…and the topic has not been put to the floor for comment.”

Properly censured, Malrin took his seat, “I beg pardon Milord, I meant no disrespect.” Elrond dismissed the barely-there affront with a slight wave of his hand and the younger members of the group grew immediately quiet as the great elf lord continued.

“I do not know why it seeks the lad, only that it does. You may rest easy Malrin, no harm shall befall Andras while we here still draw breath. But the fact that it pursues him and that it has already done great damage to our neighbors in the south, speaks to the fact that we must be on our guard at all times. From this moment on no one will go anywhere alone, Erestor that includes the household staff. Effective immediately all staff, especially the elleth, are confined to the house proper unless accompanied by a warrior. Further, although I am loathe to do it…every warrior, will be armed at all times, both outside and inside the house. Erestor please see to it that the doors and shutters are closed and bolted at dusk each night.

“Yes milord.”

Re-taking his seat and gesturing to the maps he now turned to his Commander of the Host, “Glorfindel…if you would…”

“Aye,” came the response, as the Golden Warrior stood and laid out his strategy for protecting the house and grounds. “Elladan, Elrohir, the two of you will split, Elladan will ride with our eastern border patrol and Elrohir you will take the south. Malrin; you, Ingorn and Timagol will join the household guards, each on a separate floor. Orophin, starting tomorrow morning you will stand to post inside the infirmary – no one other than the healers enters without leave from Lord Elrond, Erestor or me. Until then one of the house sentries will take the assignment. Erestor please see to it that Orophin is introduced to all the healers, since we do not know what guise the attacker uses I do not wish to take any chances – a personal pass word known only by Orophin will be used for each of the healers.

“I will see to it immediately.”

“Haldir and Rúmil, you will join Cilinwë as part of Lord Elrond’s personal guard.”

“Aye,” Rúmil responded acknowledging his assignment, as his brother concurred. “It will be an honor Lord Glorfindel.”

“Of special importance is Estel – I cannot stress this enough, the child is to go nowhere unaccompanied – not even in the house. One of you will be with him at all times. My Lord until this threat is vanquished I suggest that Estel sleep with you.

“Good idea, Glorfindel, we cannot be too careful.”

Pointing to the map he continued, “We will double the sentries, here, here and here…” – indicating the eastern, southern and western perimeters of the realm, “…as well as at every sentry post.”

“Our reconnaissance from Haldir tells us that this enemy approaches from the south, you all know of the devastation it left in its wake in South Gundabad…let us take steps to assure that nothing of the like happens here in Imladris. Also, we will send two dispatch riders east to warn King Thranduil and two more south to Rohan to King Thengel - find out what, if anything, he might know of this. With luck we may be able to contain this threat here…but if not our people and our allies must be warned.”

“One other thing,” Elrond interrupted, “Elwaith secured an herb from Rohan, have one of the riders take a small sample from the infirmary, I want them to speak to King Thengel’s salabir (herb master) – see if we can procure more of it – pay or trade whatever you need to, but make it so.”

“It will be done milord.”

“Erestor,” Glorfindel continued, “I would also like to suggest that any ellith on the staff who have had defensive training be asked to keep a weapon on their person at all times.”

“I will see to it Glorfindel.”

“Lastly…until further notice…the gates of Imladris will be closed. No one enters without leave from Lord Elrond, Erestor or me – and no one leaves without a full escort. Are there any questions?”

Silence filled the room, “Then unless Lord Elrond has something else to add…”

The ancient elf shook his weary head no.

“Then we are adjourned, Cilinwë and I will meet with the various Captains and work out the scheduling and rotations and you will have them before the end of the day.”

As the elves filed out of the room Elrond stood looking out the balcony doors at the deluge of rain that soaked his land. Refreshing the Lord’s tea, Erestor approached and handed the ancient elf the cup. The signs of anxiety and worry were laid bare in the otherwise beautiful elf’s countenance and the pain he felt could be clearly discerned in the timbre of his voice.

“That the gates of Imladris are once again closed…(sigh), I fear I have lived too long old friend.”

Turning he looked Erestor in the eye, the moment that passed between them needed no interpretation, each knew what the other was thinking; Elrond worried now for the safety of his youngest son, and as the seneschal stared back he responded to Elrond’s unasked question.

“Unto my last breath I will protect him.”


Chapter 39 - To Feed Ada

Freshly bathed and finally redressed, Estel lay on the floor beside his bed quietly staging a coup d'état and invading the make believe world of his toy soldiers. The warriors of his ‘Glorfy’ army were currently assailing Mt. Boot, a soft brown suede boot to be exact, courtesy of his older brother’s wardrobe. They had just crossed the ‘feather’ river, a series of old quill pens donated by Erestor, and were just about to overtake the opposing forces at the bend in the carefully arranged ‘hosen’ foothills. With his foremost general, Nif, at his side, he strategized and planned using simple military strategies taught to him by his beloved Glorfindel.

Now that the enemy was cornered, he switched sides, and employed a brilliant counter attack learned at the feet of the master of cunning tactics – Erestor. Glorfy’s troops didn’t stand a chance . As he maneuvered the soldiers yet again, Perwaen, whose eyes were growing tired, prepared to put down her needlepoint as the hour grew closer for the noontime meal. She was just about to have Estel put his toys away when the knock on the door was heard.

“I get it Perwaen, you stay dere,” the child said as he jumped to his feet and scurried to the door . The elleth could not help but smile 'Always the little gentleman,' she thought to herself as she watched Estel answer the entreaty at his door.

“Who is it?” the child asked politely.

“It is Cilinwë and I have brought a friend.”

Estel released the latch, pulled open the door and immediately attached himself to the sword master’s legs, “Linwë!” he shouted as he gleefully looked up at his idol. The master of swords smiled fondly at the child and asked, “May we enter Master Elrondion? I have someone I would like you to meet.” So enthused that his friend had come to his room, Estel’s quick glance only registered that the person behind Cilinwë had blond hair, not who was under all that hair. Grabbing his friend by the hand Estel fairly dragged the sword master inside.

“Oh yeth, come in ‘Linwë, come in.” As he pulled Cilinwë further into the room Perwaen stood and curtseyed, which at last triggered Estel to remember his manners and he proceeded to make introductions.

“’Linwë dis is Lady Perwaen, she is keeping me comp-nee cause I hafta wait for Ada. Lady Perwaen dis is my friend Master Ci-lin-wë, he trains all the warriors, and shows dem how to sword fight, even Dan and Roh, right ‘Linwë?

Nodding his head for emphasis he continued, “Linwë taught dem how to do ev’vathin wit a sword, an sometimes he even fights with Glorfy, right ‘Linwë? But not weal fightin’,” he said as he shook his head in the negative, “…just play fightin’ cause dey are good friends…and he knows ‘Westor too.” Perwaen smiled bashfully behind her handkerchief while the sword master tried to get a word in edgewise; not an easy thing to do once Estel was on a roll.

“Yes, yes little one, Perwaen and I are already acquainted, but I have brought someone with me that I would like both of you to meet. Estel, Lady Perwaen, allow me to introduce Rúmil of Lothlórien. Rúmil will be visiting with us while his friend Andras is healed by our Lord Elrond.”

Stepping forward Perwaen gave another small curtsey, “It is nice to meet you Rúmil I hope your stay here will be a pleasant one, how is your friend doing?”

“Thank you Lady Perwaen, I am sure my time here in Imladris will be…enjoyable,” he said as he cast an appreciative eye at the comely brunette housemaid. Continuing, he shook his head dejectedly, “As to Andras, it is our sincere hope that Lord Elrond will find a way to help him.”

“Worry not Rúmil, our Lord Elrond will heal your friend; there is no finer healer in all Arda.”

“I hope with all my heart that you are right Lady Perwaen, for without Lord Elrond’s healing hand I fear there is little hope for the young one, save the intervention of the Valar themselves.

Tired of being ignored by the adults Estel added his consensus by defending his father’s skills.

“My Ada can fix anythin’; he fixes ev’vabody all da time, right ‘Linwë?”

Kneeling in front of the boy, and knowing full well to whom he was speaking, Rúmil responded cheerfully, “And who might you be little one?”

“My name is Estel…Estel Elwondion, and W’ord Elwond is my Ada and he can fix anythin’!” the child said emphatically. Estel remembered now, this was the warrior from earlier in the day who interrupted his time with his father, he hadn’t liked that, and the jury was still out in regard to whether or not he liked this elf.

Joining Rúmil on the floor next to the boy, Cilinwë attempted to lessen the tension, he didn’t want Estel to get off on the wrong foot with Rúmil, for they would be spending a lot of time together in the near future. Pulling the child close to him, he gently patted the boy on the chest as he reassured him that no offense to his father was meant.

“Easy there little warrior…Rúmil knows all about your adar, do you not Rúmil?”

“Of course…everyone knows of the skill of Lord Elrond,” Rúmil said amicably, “…I remember once, many years ago when I was sick with fever, my brothers took me to Lord Elrond for healing. I was very lucky that he was visiting in Lothlórien, for I was very ill, too ill to travel, I do not know what would have become of me if he had not been there to heal me.”

Unbeknownst to Rúmil, he’d just uttered the magic word - “Brothers,” which was probably the only word at this moment that might buy him a reprieve from the temporarily defensive little sprite. Normally a gentle and sweet spirited child, Estel could be guaranteed to go into full battle mode against anyone who said anything derogatory about his father, brothers, or anyone he considered his family.

“You have brudders?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes, I have two brothers.”

“Me too!” the child exclaimed excitedly.

“Yes I know, your brothers and I have been friends for a very, very long time.”

“You know Dan and Roh?” he asked, the incredulous tone in his voice obvious.

Rúmil could not help but smile at the enthusiasm in this one as he continued to explain his relationship with the Elrondions.

“Elladan and Elrohir used to visit the Golden Wood often when they were elflings, and we would spend time together fishing, and hunting for frogs and rabbits, that is… whenever my older brother Haldir would say it was, ”

“HAL-DEER iss you brudder??” the child exclaimed as he inched closer to the Galadhel. “Ooohh……he is a MarchWa’den…Roh says da MarchWa’den iss very im-por-tent, he guards da woods of gold and keeps daeradar and daernaneth and allll da other elves safe. Are you a wa’den too?” he asked hopefully.

“Indeed I am, as is my younger brother Orophin.”

“You have a big brudder AND a liddle brudder?”

As the two became acquainted Cilinwë slowly moved away, and motioning to Perwaen, quietly advised her that until further notice Estel would be under the watchful eyes of himself and the two Galadhel. Nodding approvingly, Perwaen, under Cilinwë’s escort, moved toward the door and just as she was about to exit she heard…

“Perwaen said Hal-deer is hebenly…right Perwaen!”

The embarrassed elleth blushed a bright scarlet, made a hasty curtsey and moved ever faster through the portal. As the sword master closed the door, he and Rúmil dissolved into laughter leaving Estel wondering yet again, what he said that was so funny.

The confused child, small scowl in place, looked back and forth between the two laughing warriors. Considering the contagion associated with uncontrolled mirth, it was not long before he too was giggling right along with them.

“Did I make a funny?”

“You did indeed little one…you did indeed,” Rúmil replied as he sat cross-legged on the floor. “Wait until I tell Haldir…Heavenly! Oh he shall take a good ribbing with this one.”

Estel moved over, positioned himself on Rúmil’s lap and wrapped one chubby little arm around the warrior’s neck, and began to finger his braids. As the Warden turned to face him he tentatively asked, “Can you come an visit again Wú?”

“Oh, that is right we have not told you yet,” he said as he wrapped his arm around the boy.

“Told me what?”

“Master Cilinwë, Haldir, and I are going to be with you every day.”

“WEALLY?”

“Yes, really.”

“Hal-deer too?”

“Haldir too.”

“Can we play games?”

“Yes.”

“Can we get Dan and Roh and hunt for frogs?”

“Well…if they are not on duty I suppose we can ask.”

Since the two seemed to be getting along Cilinwë decided that it was time he made his exit, these two needed some time alone to bond. Calling Rúmil to the door he made his goodbyes…

“Rúmil may I speak to you for a moment before I leave?”

“You goin’ nowww ‘Linwë?” the child whined.

“Yes little one, I am afraid that duty calls, I must meet with Lord Glorfindel to work out the schedules for the sentries. But do not fret, Rúmil will stay here and keep you company, and I will see you in a little while, perhaps by the end of noon meal…all right?

“Aright…I guess, I see you den,” he said pouting as he moved back to his place on the floor with his soldiers.

Lowering his voice so that the child could not hear, Cilinwë gave his reasoning to Rúmil.

“It looks as though the two of you will be fine.”

“Are you sure it is wise to leave us alone so soon,” asked Rúmil, “we have only just been introduced, what if he decides to take a dislike to me and you are not here?”

The sword master just chuckled, “Trust me on this my friend, he has already made you a member of his family.”

Confused, the Galadhel replied, “How can you tell?”

“Did you notice how he wrapped the ends of your braids around his fingers?”

“Yes.”

“He only gets that close to people with whom he feels comfortable.”

“And that makes me part of his family?”

“No…”

“Then what?”

“When he did not call you by your name…he shortened it to something he could manage…’Dan, ‘Roh, ‘Westor, ‘Linwë…and now you…Wú, you have essentially just been – adopted!”

A huge smile graced the warden’s face as he looked over to where the little one had resumed his battle with his toy soldiers. Sounds of ‘crashing’, ‘falling’, ‘banging’, ‘booming’, and even his own ‘music’ punctuating his play. Rúmil could not help but be reminded of himself and Orophin at that age. All the mischief they got into; how Haldir managed to parent them without throwing either off the edge of a flet or out the window of a talan was still a mystery to him.

Staring at the boy he remembered how hard Haldir worked to protect them, to teach them what it meant to be one of the firstborn, and how easy loving them, in spite of the foolish and embarrassing things they did, seemed to come to him. Now here he was, about to assume a similar responsibility for Estel. Rúmil did not know if he would ever marry on this side of Valinor, or if he would be lucky enough to have children if he did, but he did know this – an opportunity had presented itself to him to find out how much, if any, of Haldir’s infinite patience had rubbed off on him, and he did not intend to waste one moment of the time he’d been given with this engaging child. Moving over to sit on the floor next to Estel he asked, “May I play too?” Estel’s eyes lit up like the night sky during one of Mithrandir’s legendary fireworks displays.

“You wanna play soldiers?”

“Of course, I love playing soldiers.”

Estel’s smile was so wide it threatened to knock the east wall out of his bedroom, and he jumped at the chance to have someone ‘big’ with whom to play. Having already effectively demolished the ‘Glorfy’ army he promptly gave the ‘losing’ side to Rúmil. “Here, you be Glorfy, I gonna be Westor.”

“Hummm…” Rúmil said as he surveyed what was left of his troops, “…it does not look as if I am in a very good place…you are beating my troops very badly.”

Estel smiled at the compliment to his ‘military expertise’. It tickled him that he was beating a grownup, but even he understood that it wasn’t quite fair. Rúmil had only just come into the battle and it was only right that he should make the offer to start again. After all, it wasn’t often that he got a grownup to volunteer to play with him; usually everyone was so busy he had to chase down Dan or Roh and practically beg. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to play with him, but they preferred to do things outside in the fresh air, and lying on a hard stone floor playing soldiers wasn’t very appealing.

“You want to start over Wú?” he asked hopefully.

“I would like to do that Estel, but I think perhaps we should start getting ready for noon meal . You must be very hungry by now.”

Estel had to admit his little tummy was starting to rumble a bit, and at the mention of luncheon he remembered the surprise for his Ada.

“Wú…I almost forgot – I have a s’prise for Ada!”

“You do?”

“Yeth! Guess what I did?” he said as he bounced expectantly on his toes, his secret fairly bursting to be free.

Rúmil had not seen this much energy all in one place in almost an age, and he laughed in spite of himself…"What did you do?”

“I made noon meal for Ada, and I did it all by myself.” Moving towards the window he continued, "See, I put it over here to warm in the sun…cause I not allowed to use da stove, Lady Nilya won’ let me…she says I might set da house on fire, or WORSE, I might set ME on fire…so I don’ go near da stove cause I don’ wanna burn up. Did your Ammë let you cook when you were liddle?”

With a chuckle he remarked, "Actually no…my naneth…passed away when I was not much bigger than you, my brother Haldir raised me, and he did not let me cook either…he said the same thing to me that Lady Nilya said to you…he was afraid I would burn down our talan. He was probably right…I was not a very good cook back then.”

Following the child to the window, Rúmil watched as Estel pushed back the drapes to reveal the bowl of greenery.

“Ah, cabbage, I love cabbage…do you mind if I have a taste?”

“Oh no…dis iss for Ada, I made it special for him…maybe I make some for you next time…or you could ask Lady Nilya to make it for you,” then with an exaggerated scowl he added, “…she loves to make it.”

“Well, if we are going to get this to your Ada we will need a tray to carry it…and we will need a napkin or something to cover it.”

Running to the corner Estel retrieved the little bed tray that Glorfindel had designed especially for him. “Here Wú…we can use my tway, an “Westor keeps extra napkins in my dwawer…cause he says I messy,” the child replied smiling.

“Very good little one, I will set up the tray while you run and wash your face and hands, then we can leave for the dining room.”

Rushing to the bathing chamber to do Rúmil’s bidding Estel marveled at how lucky he’d suddenly become. One moment he had no one his size to play with and in the next he had three big strong warriors who were going to spend every day with him…Eru was good.” After quickly splashing some water on his face, and in the process slightly wetting the front of his tunic, the child exited the chamber at a dead run.

“I weady Wú” he smiled.

“All right then, let us be off.” As Rúmil picked up the tray to carry it out Estel protested loudly…

“No Wú, I hafta bring it…so Ada will know I made it for him.”

Smiling Rúmil gently placed the tray in the boy’s hands, “All right my friend you lead the way and I shall bring up the rear.” Like a little general marching off to battle Estel led the way down the corridor to the stairs. With Rúmil’s help he gracefully maneuvered the steps without spilling, and all eyes were upon him as he carefully balanced the tray and made his way through the doors of the dining hall straight to his father’s table.

Elrond was seated in his usual place at the head of the table; the obviously weary elf was engaged in conversation with his eldest son Elladan and the Lórien sentry Timagol. Elladan had grown concerned over his father’s health during their earlier strategy session as the elder elf seemed tired and mentally worn. His usual commanding demeanor was missing throughout the meeting as evidenced by the fact that he allowed Erestor to speak for him in quieting the group.

The Imladrian heir had been gently attempting to convince his father to return to his quarters for some much needed rest, unfortunately his pleas were falling on unwilling ears. As tired as his father was he still felt it was his duty to make himself available in the infirmary, Elwaith and Udalin were working reasonably well together at the moment, but Elrond knew that with Udalin’s temperament that could change at any second, and he would not have his healing wing turned into a war zone.

“Besides,” the elder elf smiled as he continued, “…my only reason for taking a break at all is a promise I made to Estel, who chastised me quite sternly this morning for not breaking my fast and trying to work on an empty stomach.”

“Well good for him,” Elladan added, “…he was right, you must take better care of yourself adar, if you fall to illness we will all be left at the mercy of Udalin, and although he is an accomplished assistant, he is not you….and his manner leaves much to be desired.”

Elrond smiled and patted Elladan gently on the arm as his eyebrow hitched a little higher, “Sometimes you lads make me wonder which of us is the parent and which the child.”

”Blame yourself then, for everything we have learned we learned from you, and you must admit adar when even a three year old can see how worry and weary affect you, it must indeed be time for rest.”
Having caught the tail end of the conversation as he began to sit down Elrohir added his opinion as well, “El is right adar, you look tired, and I am afraid I must not only agree with him and Estel, I must also insist that you take some rest.”

The eyebrow that only moments before had risen only slightly, did a quick and abrupt dash towards Elrond’s hairline.

“Insist you say?”

“I do not believe that I stuttered; you heard me quite clearly adar, as soon as you are finished with luncheon you are going back to bed…even if I have to carry you there myself.”

As Elrond made to protest Elrohir interrupted, “No, I will hear no more about it,” nodding in his brother’s direction he continued, “…you have often told us that we must take a more commanding role in the day to day operation of Imladris…well, consider yourself commanded. And I warn you adar, with all due respect, I will brook no foolishness from you this day…lunch and bed!” he said as he straightened his tunic and sat down in a huff.

“Well done El!”

“I take it then that you are taking your brother’s side in this?” Elrond queried of Elladan.

“Absolutely, and if necessary I will help him carry you to your chambers,” the oldest offered laughingly.

Irritated at the challenge the twins were presenting, Elrond shot back in mock indignation, “I am still the Lord of this realm and I do not appreciate being told I must ‘go to my room’ by my offspring.”

“Who said you have to go to you room Ada?” a little voice piped up from his side. Turning, the elf lord found his youngest son standing there, head tilted to the side with a most quizzical look on his face. Elrond’s irritation was immediately quelled as he gazed at the sweet faced tiny boy with the tall golden bodyguard at his back. They made an unusual pair these two, and he could not help but smile.

As he waited for his answer, the child, with the help of his father, set the tray on the table.

“Your brothers are trying to gang up on me Estel, they seem to think that they can order me about at will.”

“Dey not s’posed to do dat Ada.”

Elrond glanced triumphantly at the twins dipping his head to the side as if to say ‘I have found an ally’.

"That was my thinking as well ion nín,” he said with a grin.

“Dey not s’posed to give you orders Ada… dat’s my job.”

Elrond’s triumphant smile changed to absolute shock and his head turned with a jerk.

“What did you say Estel?”

“Iss my job…you said so Ada…you said I can give you orders any time…right Westor?”

The Seneschal, who had been quietly sitting at the opposite end of the table watching this mini drama unfold, almost choked on his soup when the child turned to him to confirm his assertion.

“Cough, cough…choke…cough . Excuse me…milord. Estel I am afraid you must refresh my memory…when did your adar say this?”

“You member ‘Westor…dis mornin’ I told Ada I had a s’prise for him and he said, ‘In dat case you may order me ‘round any time you like, cause I love s’prises’. Don’ you ‘member ‘Westor?”

Clearing his throat Erestor looked back and forth between Estel and his father, as the twins and the boy all gazed hopefully at him. Pointedly Erestor stared at Elrond as he gave his response.

“As a matter of fact I do remember Estel. Your adar did in fact say that this morning,” when Elrond attempted to object Erestor continued.

“He was quite clear in his edict, his exact words were, ‘In that case you may order me around any time you like, for I love surprises, and I shall try and make this meeting especially quick so that we can luncheon together and I can receive my surprise’.”

Estel grinned from ear to ear, “See Ada, you said so…iss my job.”

The twins found Elrond’s chagrined look most amusing as he responded in an affronted huff.

“Well I never!…”

“Well apparently adar, you did. So…what say you Estel? Elladan and I think that adar looks tired and that he needs some rest.”

“And…,” quipped Elladan, “…remember he did not break his fast this morning and he has been working…on an empty tummy . He would never let you do that…rules are rules.”

Estel squinted his eyes and leaned in examining his father from head to toe, as Elrond was about to speak the little one straightened up and in the best Elrond imitation the twins had seen in ages he cocked his eyebrow and raised his little hand halting his father’s objection and nodding emphatically, made his decision…

“You need a nap!”

(Giggle, giggle, snort)

Elrond looked up to find Rúmil trying to control the laughter that was desperately trying to escape his body. The tall bodyguard pressed his lips tightly together as he looked away, examining the ceiling, suddenly immensely interested in the architecture of the room.

“Et tu, Rúmil?”

“Sorry Milord.”

“Well…it seems as though I have been thrice trumped!”

“I don’ know what dat means Ada” the little one offered.

“It means little brother that he must eat his lunch and go straight to his room and go to bed,” ‘Roh explained.

“Oh…, den yeth…you twumped Ada. Gotta eat and den go to bed.”

“Well, since my sons, my closest advisor, and even visiting guests (he glared at Rúmil) seem to have all turned against me, it does not look as though I am going to receive a reprieve from this cadre of backstabbers. I suspect that I will have to resign myself to it and try to make the best of it.

A most forlorn look overtook the child’s countenance; during his playtime battles with Glorfindel, Estel had learned enough to know what it meant to be ‘against’ someone. The child sheepishly looked up at his father saying, “I not against you Ada…I just don’ want you to get sick. Don’ be mad at me.”
Elrond immediately adjusted his demeanor, he sometimes forgot that when he spoke Estel would take him literally.

"Oh Melyanna, I am not angry with you…I was only jesting,” he said as he lifted the child onto his lap. “You and your brothers were quite right to point out that I have not been taking care of myself. If I am going to set the rules for you then I must follow them as well mustn’t I?”

“You not mad?”

“No of course not, I could never be mad at you ion nín, and I am going to do exactly as you said, I will have my lunch and then I am going to my chambers to lie down and rest.”

Placing his arm around his father’s neck Estel planted a big wet sloppy kiss on Elrond’s cheek. "Dat’s good Ada, cause I made something special for you.”

“You did? What did you make?”

Pulling the napkin away Estel revealed the large bowl of cabbage and joyfully announced his culinary accomplishment to those assembled.

“I made you lunch Ada! I did it all by myself cause I knew you would be hungry . I got it out of the pan-try all by myself, didin I Wú? An I fixed it for you.”

‘Estel…you did not go near the stove did you?”

“Oh no Ada…Lady Nilya said never touch the stove, don’ even go near it…I never touch the stove Ada, cause I don’ wanna burn up!”

“All right then…what made you decide to make me cabbage?” Elrond asked, knowing all too well that with the exception of peas his youngest would probably do just about anything to rid the Last Homely House of any green substance that arrived on a dinner plate. The elf lord learned early on, that the only saving grace for the little round jewels was the fact that they could be ‘chased’ around a plate – pursued if you will, to their ultimate end. Unlike the dark somber color of leafy vegetables, they were bright green like grass – another of Estel’s favorite things and the child would be sure to make a game of eating them.

“Cause you said cabbage is good for you, it makes you a strong warrior…and you said you liked it, an…an…”

“And what?”

“An it was the only t’ing I could reach.”

Elrond fairly burst with laughter; only his Estel could cut to the chase and bring things down to their very basic truths with such infinite clarity. “Well then, since you went to all this trouble I guess I better get started, never let it be said that I do not clean my plate.”

The ancient healer smiled appreciatively as he took a heaping spoonful of cabbage and quickly popped it into his mouth. Wishing this exercise in equality to be over quickly, he chewed twice and swallowed the wad of greenery practically without tasting it. However, ‘practically’ was indeed the operative word, for as the offensive vegetable made its way down his throat the smile began to fade as the flavors of Estel’s homemade concoction assailed his taste buds. Gasping at the briny taste and the pungent mustard flavor the Lord of Imladris could barely speak as he coughed and sputtered his need for a cup of water…

“Cough…cough…hack…hack…cough….(gasp)…” barely able to point at the water pitcher he gingerly waved one slender finger in the direction of the ewer while making eye contact with his eldest. Gesturing wildly, Elrond grasped at his throat as he repeatedly pounded his hand flat against the tabletop.

“Whas da matter Ada?” Estel queried as he watched his father turn a most unappealing shade of blue.

As the great lord struggled to catch his breath, Estel slipped from his lap and climbed the side rail of the chair. Holding on to the armrest with one hand, he attempted to pat his father on the back with the other. As Elrond continued to gag and wretch, Rúmil came to his side. Reaching over Estel, he gave the elf lord three good whacks on the back as Elrohir rushed to pour a cup of water. Erestor was on his feet and moving towards Elrond’s side of the table when at last they heard.

“(GASP…GASP)….Oh…my…word! (GASP)….what in Arda…is …in…that?”

“Iss cabbage Ada,” Estel answered, “don’ you like it?” “Ada you look funny…whas wrong?”

Alarmed now at his father’s condition Estel looked frantically to Erestor, “’Westor whas wrong wit Ada? Rohhhhh! Dannnnn, whas da matter wit adaaaaa?”

Rúmil quickly picked up the boy and carried him to the end of the table, allowing the others to have complete access to the great lord.

“Do not fret Estel, your father will be fine…I think he just swallowed his food a little too quickly.”
Too late. As Estel watched his father’s color turn from pansy blue to buttercup yellow and then to pastel green he went into full three-year-old meltdown. Quivering lip extended, tears welling up in his eyes, he let out an inconsolable wail that brought the entire room to a standstill. He followed the scream with a waterworks worth of tears that could have washed away an entire horde of the most hardy orcs in Arda as his silver eyed gaze darted back and forth between the three elves that were now at his father’s side. From the areas closest to Elrond, Rúmil could see warriors standing – moving towards the table, and him, with their hands on their swords. While he attempted to comfort the child, the kitchen door swung open and the lady Nénilya emerged rolling pin in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other. Bringing up the rear were two of the largest ellith Rúmil had ever seen, one wielding a heavy cast iron skillet and the other a fighting staff at least seven feet long. Quickly surveying the scene before her, Nilya directed her ‘troops’.

Pointing at Rúmil with the cleaver she said, “Keep your eye on him…I will see to Lord Elrond.” The ellith hastened to do her bidding, and Rúmil quickly found himself flanked by two glaring females…and Estel screamed on.


Chapter 40 - Sorting It All Out

“Here Adar…drink this,” Elrohir said as he shoved the cup of water into his father’s hand.

“Small sips milord,” Erestor repeated as he gently patted Elrond’s back.

“What happened?” the lady Nilya demanded as she finally reached Elrond’s side.

“It is all right milady,” Erestor soothed, “…just a little mishap, Lord Elrond swallowed too quickly and choked on his food.”

“Little mishap? Choked? My good Lord Erestor, I will have you know that no one has ever ‘choked’ on my food!” she said affronted.

“And what is this doing here?” she asked pointing to the bowl of polluted roughage that sat in front of her lord.

“I did not prepare this for luncheon…who put this here?” Eyeing the bowl suspiciously she shifted the rolling pin placing it under her arm and pinched a bit of the cabbage between thumb and forefinger popping the greenery into her mouth to give it a taste.

“Oh My Word!” Grabbing a napkin from the table, she pressed it to her mouth, and in very unladylike fashion spit the offending vegetable into it, then gestured for “Water! Please!”

Elladan hurriedly poured her a cup, and tossing her ‘weapons’ on the table she gulped the water down completely, emptying the cup before coming up for air. Turning to look at her two helpers she announced in gasping breaths “Whoever…is responsible…for bringing…this…to table…is in big trouble!”

One would not have thought it possible, but Estel screamed even louder as he buried his face in Rúmil’s shoulder.

“What is it Lady Nilya…what is wrong with the food?”

“My dear Erestor this bowl is laced with salt…and mustard seed, and if I am not mistaken paprika! And apparently it has been out of the pantry and off of the ice for hours, it is quite rancid! That concoction would turn the stomach of a troll…why I do not believe that even a Hobbit could manage to eat that. Who served this?”

Placing his hand on her arms, which were now firmly and defensively crossed over her chest, the Seneschal responded quietly, "Estel.”

Completely taken aback Lady Nilya glanced quickly at the still crying child as she lowered her voice and whispered back, “The baby gave this to his father?”

“Yes, he told us he prepared it by himself, especially for his father.”

“My word . He has not been near the kitchens since early this morn…that cabbage has been out of the pantry for over 5 hours. Do you know where he kept it?”

“My ventured guess is probably somewhere in his room.”

“Oh my.”

“You say it has turned foul?” Erestor questioned.

“Unquestionably foul, …and we will not even mention the salt and mustard that has been added to it…”

“My Lady?” Rúmil interjected, “…the little one left the bowl on the windowsill…to heat it in the sun, he said he was not allowed to go near the stove.” “This is my fault milady, he was so excited about surprising Lord Elrond that I did not stop to think of how long it might have been sitting there…but I swear to you milady…Lord Elrond, we neither of us knew that it had turned foul.”

“Well I should hope not Master…?”

“Rúmil, milady…Rúmil Hesonion of Lothlórien.” The Galadhel continued to bounce the crying child in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on the boy’s back. “Tis all right little one…everything will be all right.” But Estel was quite inconsolable, all he’d wanted to do was make his father’s lunch…to do something nice, and now it appeared to him that he’d all but poisoned his father. At the very least Lord Elrond would be decidedly ill for hours to come. Still coughing and trying to catch his breath the ancient lord covered his mouth with one hand and motioned to Rúmil with the other.

“COUGH, COUGH…GASP . My son…bring me…my son.”

Rúmil carried Estel back to the table and turning him round, placed him in his father’s waiting arms.

“There, there now…all is well…do not cry Melyanna; it was a tiny mistake, that is all . Everything is fine now…see? I am quite fine…truly.”

Estel’s cries began to lessen turning into soft sobs. As Elrond looked about the room he could see the apprehension on the faces of those assembled. “Everything is all right…please everyone go back to your meal, all is well…just a simple misunderstanding.” Turning then to his warriors he addressed them and made light of the situation. “Please everyone, continue with luncheon…all is well…it seems my little one is no better a cook than his brothers…heaven knows they too have had their culinary missteps. I can personally attest to that, as they fed me a variety of concoctions over the years – things that would have made even the strongest stomach do back flips.”

“And dare I say…” Erestor interjected, “…they were considerably older than our Estel when they did it.”

“Ah yes…,” continued Elladan as he moved to reclaim his seat, “I seem to recall a particularly evil plate of corn cakes…Elrohir’s recipe, if memory serves…most unfortunate consequences that…”

“And let us not forget YOUR forays into the pantry…” Elrohir retorted, “…I would like to note a bowl of vegetable stew…with your SECRET ingredient…what was it again Lady Nilya?”

“Crushed Hops…it seems Lord Elrond was developing what the humans call ‘a cold,’ and young Elladan decided that he needed hot soup and LOTS of medicine…for you see the time was drawing near for the Winter Solstice, and Elladan was determined that his father would not miss it due to a stuffy head and fever. That little escapade quite nearly cost him a trip to the woodshed. Hops you see, have a tendency to peak one’s appetite…Lord Elrond was absolutely ravenous, could not get enough to eat…why I could not get the food in front of him fast enough…and he was quite tipsy as well for hours after that,” she said in a huff. “Should have tanned BOTH your little hides for that one.”

‘Both?” exclaimed Elrohir, “Why me?” “I had no part in that one,” he said laughingly.

“Please…do you take me for a novice? In those days there was nothing that was done by one of you that the other was not aware of.”

“Nothing has changed on that front in millennia,” Glorfindel quipped, “why I would not be the least bit surprised if you two were the ones that suggested it to him in the first place.”

“Glorfindel…you wound us,” they said practically in tandem.

“See you there…did I not say it? Together as always, yes, I certainly smell your hands in all of this.”

“It would be like them…would it not?” Erestor queried, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Indeed it would,” Elrond confirmed, then pulling Estel away from his chest he wiped the tears from the child’s face as he gently asked…“Melyanna, did your brothers tell you to do this?”

Estel slowly shook his head no, responding…“Iss s’posed to be a s’prise. I wanted to make you lunch cause you dinna break you fast…but I made you sick…I sorry Ada.”

The child then launched himself back into his father’s arms and clung to Elrond as though it would be his last chance to do it this side of Arda. Elrond kissed the soft curls atop the child’s head and again tried to convince him that all was well.

“Awww…no harm done Estel, we all make little mistakes, that is how we learn…is it not Erestor?”

“Why yes it is…we try, and sometimes we fail, but that does not mean that we intended to do anything wrong.”

“See…now…,” he said pulling the child away from him again, “We will have no more tears this day, it was not intentional, and as you can see I am fine, (a little queasy) but none the less fine. Now, what say you… shall we have Lady Nilya bring us something to eat? We can have our lunch and then we shall both go and have a lie down and take a nap? How does that sound to you?”

“Can I sleep in your room wit’ you?”

“Absolutely, I would not have it any other way?”

“A’right Ada…I am a liddle hungry.”

“Right then! Lady Nénilya if you would be so kind as to bring Estel some warm bread with butter and marmalade, and…a plate of spring melon, how does that sound Estel?”

The child perked right up, “Dat sounds won’erful Ada, I love spring melon.”

“Spring melon it is then! Nilya if you would bring me a small bowl of clear broth…I do not think I can put much more than that on my stomach at the moment.”

“Of course my lord, clear broth coming right up.” Nilya started for the kitchen, reaching the door she hesitated, then turned and cleared her throat saying, ”Ahem…ladies, you may ‘release’ your captive now…follow me.”

Like two well-trained soldiers the ellith followed their ‘commander’ into the kitchen, leaving Rúmil to breathe a sigh of relief. The resounding round of laughter that followed their exit left Rúmil feeling as though he had unknowingly been under siege.

“They are somewhat…intimidating, are they not?” he queried as he hastily straightened his tunic.

“Yeth…dey are.” Estel said giggling, then imitating his beloved father said…”Dey are indeed!”

…


Chapter 41 - Healing Moments

Two days later:

The healing wing seemed to sing with activity and talk. Even those healers and helpers who had not attended Andras or his arm, sat speculating as to whether or not the limb could be repaired. Udalin and Elwaith struck a truce of sorts, and busied themselves with the young elf’s care. As had become their habit, Timagol continued to carefully carry his friend to and from the larger more private room as Lord Elrond had instructed. Each day Elwaith undressed Andras and Timagol stripped down to his braises, and when the still sleeping Andras was ready, he carefully lifted his friend and carried him to the private bathing pool adjacent to Andras’ room.

Gingerly he stepped down into the water and held Andras afloat at the edge of the pool as Elwaith leaned over the side and gently bathed the unconscious elf. The lad’s hair fanned out across the water like a golden spider web, and Timagol was struck with how truly beautiful and peaceful he looked. It was a far cry from the anguished, tormented elf he’d carried that fateful night when the traveling party arrived back in Lothlórien. A faint smile graced young Andras’ face, and Timagol thought that he must be dreaming; he prayed that the dreams were pleasant ones, his friend had been through quite enough, – he deserved this respite.

As Elwaith gently washed the elf’s hair, Timagol tried his best not to look at the arm, but it was hard to ignore. He gazed at it transfixed; it was still difficult to believe that this could have happened to one of the firstborn, let alone to his friend. For the last three weeks during their travel he had lifted and carried Andras, helped to bathe and feed him, watched over and protected him, and yes, had even held him down so that the other’s could force the elixir down his unwilling throat. During this time the sentry had somehow managed to hold it together, to keep his emotions in check, but here in this pool looking down on his helpless friend, what seemed like a tidal wave of emotion overcame him.

He closed his eyes trying desperately to stop the tears, but it was no use. They streamed from his eyes unabated, and his body began to shake as he sobbed uncontrollably. Elwaith looked up from his task, uncertain of what to do, or what to say. He placed a hand on Timagol’s shoulder and silently lent his support. He knew only too well the depth of emotion that Timagol was experiencing for he too had broken down along the way. He also knew that he was not nearly eloquent enough to talk him through this anguish, but there was one amongst them who was, one who claimed he was still ‘searching’ for his life’s calling.


(Flashback:)

Almost every night he found himself in tears, tears of worry and frustration, empathy, sadness, and fear. Fear that what he knew would not be enough, that he would never be as good as Master Beregnas was, and he certainly was no Elrond Half-Elven. Fear that his skills were so lacking, that there could be no hope for Andras. “Sweet Eru, what had Lord Celeborn been thinking in sending him along?” He was not nearly good enough for this task.

Each night he pulled his blanket up into a wad and held it to his mouth trying desperately to block the sounds of his despair. It was the fourth night of their last week on the trail, and he was so overcome with worry and grief that he did not know if he could go on. He prayed to the Valar for strength, strength of will and strength of ability.

Laying there sobbing into his blanket, he was surprised by the sudden sensation of a hand on his back. Rolling over he was stunned to see Orophin sitting by his side. At first the stoic sentry said not a word; he just sat, allowing his friend time to compose himself. Elwaith sat up quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes; he was just about to make some excuse for his emotional state when Orophin placed an arm around his shoulder, giving the distraught elf a comradely hug, then the soft-spoken elf began to speak.

“When I was younger I wanted to be just like my older brothers. I tried and tried, and I worked as hard as I could, but I could never do things quite as well as they did. I was never as fast a runner as Haldir, or as good an archer as Rúmil, and of course it did not help that by the time I was 45 I was taller than both of them – it made me rather awkward and ungainly…very uncoordinated.” He paused then, allowing his words to sink in and to give Elwaith a few minutes more to settle himself down.

“Did you know that Rúmil is quite the scholar?”

“No,” Elwaith said tentatively, “I did not know that.”

“I know that sometimes it is hard to tell, given his penchant for jests and pranks, but he is,” Orophin said proudly. “Of the three of us, Rúmil has ever been the one with a book in his hand, the one who did the best with schooling. He has this innate ability to think problems through to multiple conclusions. To find ways to solve problems that others find insurmountable. I have always admired that about him,” he said wistfully, “…it was never something that I could master wholeheartedly; I am more the person you put to work to repair the problem once you have found the solution,” he laughed softly and then continued.

“It was hard keeping up with him…and near impossible to measure up to Haldir.”

“I can imagine…he is very stern, your brother,” Elwaith responded cautiously.

“Yes…but my brother has also always been a leader, I think that it is something that was just ‘born’ in him. When our parents died it was Haldir who took over our care. Mind you now, he was not that much older than Rúmil, 51 (equivalent of a 17year old) as I recall. Rúmil was 20 (equivalent of a 7 year old) and I was only seven (equivalent of an 18 month old). “Those were trying times for us, but he brought us through them.”

“I did not know that your parents were…,” he paused momentarily, not wanting to bring up a hurtful subject, then continued “…that Haldir raised you.” “I can see how it would have been tough on him, on all of you, with him being so young.”

“Aye, it was,” Orophin continued. He could have allowed others to care for us, but he did not; he said that with mother and father gone it was his task as eldest to provide for our family. He refused to allow anyone to refer to us as ‘orphans’, or to treat us as such ‘We are still a family,’ he would say…and we will stick together, and we will survive…as a family’. Oh from time to time he would accept help, usually it had something to do with me, (being the baby an all) and only then when The Lady insisted, but for the most part he did it all by himself.

He taught us both how to shoot an arrow, actually made our first real bows himself – custom carved to fit our hands alone. To this day there is still no one else who can comfortably fire Rúmil’s bow. He cooked, he cleaned, made sure we had clean clothes and were properly fed, he read to us, brushed our hair (I used to love it when he brushed my hair), he made sure that we kept up with our studies, and taught us what it meant to be Firstborn…he made it seem so easy – though Elbereth knows it could not have been – Rúmil and I could be quite a handful at times.”

He paused, gazing fondly up at the night sky, then made himself comfortable, laying back on the grass with his hands clasped behind his head before he continued.

“For many years he was both mother and father to us, guiding us, leading by example. And through it all he still managed to complete every single hour of his training as a warden. I know that there are some who think him too tough, arrogant…even uncaring – but nothing could be further from the truth. He cares more than anyone I know, cares that we are all well and safe…and to that end I do not think there is anything that he would not do, including giving up his life.”

“Now mind you, there are any number of warriors who would gladly volunteer to do battle, to risk death in defense of our home…but Haldir has truly given up his life – the prospect of his own home, a wife, children…happiness…all for our sake and the sake of the Golden Wood. He has given up that which he desires more than anything else so that the rest of us might sleep a little easier – so that what happened to the three of us does not ever befall others.”

“Yes,” Elwaith replied thoughtfully as his voice trailed off, “I see now that he overcame many obstacles…many obstacles.”

“He is the strongest person I know, and yet… with all his considerable inner strength – even he had nights like this.”

“You mean like…?”

“Yes Elwaith,” he said gently.

“Our Haldir?” Elwaith queried incredulously.

Orophin smiled and nodded, “Yes, our Haldir…nights just like this one. Nights when he would muffle his cries with his pillow, despairing over all that we had lost. Hurt, down to the quick of him, over the loss of our parents and all that remained to be done to insure that we survived. It was a lot of responsibility to place on the shoulders of one so young.”

“It was on those nights that I would climb into his bed and curl up in his arms or drape myself over his back and talk to him - just as I am talking to you now. Not about anything important or Middle Earth shattering, just talk. Later he would say that it calmed him, helped him to see things more clearly – to see that perhaps things were not as bleak as he imagined – and he would put that bad night behind him and go forward, and he would be successful. Granted, I am probably a little biased, but I think Haldir is an extraordinary elf.”

“Yes…quite extraordinary” Elwaith said thoughtfully. “Phin, do you feel that you have, ‘caught up with them’, so to speak?

“Oh no…,” he said as he shook his head smiling, “…but then, I do not think that I am supposed to.” “I never could measure up to them; no matter how hard I tried. I always seemed to fall just short of the perfection that he and Rúmil seemed to achieve so easily. Me - I struggled.”

“You Phin?”

“Yes, me. And they watched me struggle; I think it may be one of the hardest things they have ever had to do. Wanting desperately to help me, yet not wanting to coddle me or fight my battles for me . Then finally one day my brothers sat me down for a talk. Haldir took three cups from the cupboard, in one he poured water, in the second he poured wine, and in the third he poured a cup of milk. He told me that the cups represented each of us, – our family, each different but each necessary to make life worthwhile.”

“Haldir took the water, he passed the wine to Rúmil and gave the milk to me. Though he gave me the cup, he would not let me drink from it – told me to sit, listen, and watch. Holding up the cup he explained that water was essential to maintaining life, rather like him and his task as March Warden. He then elaborated on the wine, saying that although it was not essential to every day existence, it still made living more interesting and enjoyable…not unlike our dear Rúmil. At this point, while Rúmil sipped the wine emptying the cup, Haldir stood and walked slowly around the table pouring the water out as he went. He said that I was to stop trying to be like him or like Rúmil, that I was to stop worrying about whether others compared me to them. He said I was unique, and that I was to stop trying to please other people and live my life doing the things that made me happy. To just be myself, and with time - what I was destined to be good at, would be revealed to me; that it would become as clear to me, as it already was to him. Then he told me to think about what he said and what I saw – and he and Rúmil left and went on patrol.”

“I do not suppose that I will ever be as smart as Rúmil, or as strong a leader as Haldir…but I still have hope,” he smiled, “I will find my calling sooner or later.”

He was quiet for some minutes more, then he slowly sat up saying, “Well…I have talked your ear off quite enough for one night, I guess we had better get some sleep, we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow . Good night Elwaith…sleep well my friend.”

With that, he rose and moved silently towards his bedroll. Elwaith however, had a question, and stopped him before he got too far away…

“Orophin?”

“Yes, Waith?”

“Haldir compared himself to the water and Rúmil to the wine…would that not mean that you were the milk?”

“It would indeed”

“Why would Haldir not let you drink the milk?”

Phin smiled, “Well, he said that the milk was nurturing, and comforting, and that every soul needed that. But more importantly he wanted me to see for myself – that no matter what became of the water and the wine, with time the cream in the milk… would still rise to the top. Good night Waith.”

“Good night Phin.”

Elwaith sat there smiling, and his thoughts were now clear, remembering everything Orophin said, suddenly things did not seem so futile…he had conquered obstacles before…found cures before, and he would find one this time as well; there was no longer any doubt in his mind that it would happen. He would stop doubting himself, he would stop comparing himself to Master Beregnas; if the great Master had not believed in him he would not have recommended him for the position. All would be well. “Haldir was right, Lord Celeborn chose well,” for there was now no doubt in his mind who the smartest and strongest of the Lórien brothers truly was…it was the one who had finally found his calling, and he smiled as he watched Lórien’s most sought after counselor tuck himself in for the night.


Chapter 42 - Physician Heal Thyself

With Andras’ daily bath completed, Timagol was then quite summarily ‘dismissed’ by Udalin, which garnered the healer an extremely disapproving scowl from the gentle giant. As Elrond predicted, the potion Udalin prepared sent the injured elf, as usual, to the land of dreams, where all things are possible, including the healing of an otherwise lifeless arm. Elwaith sat on the side of the bed, humming as he finished drying Andras’ trail weary body.

Four days and nights in the saddle riding from the Entwash and another three weeks on the trail from Lothlórien, Elwaith felt as though he himself had been in a pugilistic competition, as though someone had pummeled his body relentlessly. Everything ached, and as bad as sitting a horse had been, being jostled back and forth in that old, hard wooden cart day after day had been even worse. He was tired, no - correction; he was exhausted; it had been two days since their arrival and he had yet to take any rest. All he wanted to do was avail himself of Lord Elrond’s famous bathing pools and find a soft comfortable place to lie down – just for a little while. If he had to admit it, his stomach felt quite empty, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the time to eat. For much of the last week he’d spent any free time he had tending to Andras and working out formulas in his head trying to think of a drug, or combination of drugs that might work in concert with this new herb he’d gotten from Rohan. So focused was he on finding a cure that he’d neglected all but the most basic needs for himself, and now that tree of neglect was bearing fruit.

His eyelids felt so heavy, the muscles of his arms and back were stiff and sore…oh, what he would not give for a hot bath, clean clothes, a good massage, and some of his mother’s wonderful stew and biscuits. Unfortunately, he knew that a massage and his mother’s biscuits were out of the question. However, he remembered his father saying that the Lady Nénilya was still residing in Imladris; he referred to her as “one of the last great elves,” so perhaps there was still hope for excellent stew. Elwaith hoped that was true, for she was touted as one of Arda’s finest cooks and he was anxious to sample her cuisine. The drying complete, he slipped a pair of sleeping breeches on the heavily sedated elf and sat back down in an exhausted heap on the chair beside the bed. The quiet in the room was comforting, and the longer he sat, the sleepier he became; it did not take long before he was slumped over the small table at the side of the bed with his head resting on his arms. His half-lidded sightless eyes had just found the pathway to complete reverie, when he was awakened by a gentle shake of his shoulder.

“Elwaith? Elwaith!”

“Huh? Wha ?” the drowsy elf muttered as he sat up with a start, “Lord Erestor…forgive me…I do not know what came over me…,” he stumbled on, “…I assure you, I am not in the habit of sleeping when I should be on duty.”

Erestor just smiled, ‘These young ones…’ he thought, ‘…so entrenched in duty and obligation’. ‘Oh well, they will learn soon enough…no matter how hard you try you cannot be all things to all people – nor can you function without sleep’.

“Master Elwaith, your duty, at least for the moment, was discharged when you turned Andras over to Lord Elrond. Believe me he would not be supportive of you working yourself to the brink of exhaustion, besides, unless I miss my guess Udalin has given Andras another of Lord Elrond’s more potent sleeping draughts…your friend will be sleeping soundly until at least tomorrow morn. At the moment my concern lies with you.”

“Me? Oh please do not worry over me Lord Erestor I am fine.”

“I checked your room earlier and it does not look as if it has been used and from the look of you I see that you have not changed?”

With downcast eyes the young healer looked at his dusty traveling gear and answered shamefacedly, “No My Lord.”

“Nor have you bathed. Have you eaten?”

“No My Lord…”

“And obviously you have not slept or you would not be doing it here, I am forced to conclude young one that you are quite obviously - not fine. The House of Elrond is renowned for its hospitality, and I intend to see that you avail yourself of it – immediately.”

Erestor’s authoritive tone left little room for argument or debate; with the battle so obviously lost, Elwaith could do little else but comply. Tiredly he rose from the chair and nodded his acquiescence to the ancient seneschal. “As you wish Lord Erestor, as you have undoubtedly accurately surmised, I am too tired to be of use here…and I must admit that the prospect of the steaming bathing pools of Imladris would be a most welcome treat.”

The seneschal’s sometimes elusive smile lit his face; he liked this young one, he was dedicated and he was humble; always a good indication that one had a good head on his or her shoulders, at least in Erestor’s book. And, he had been quick to apologize when he found himself in the wrong. ‘Yes…,’ Erestor thought ‘…this was a good and serious young elf who was in need of a little pampering’.

“Follow me then, I will show you to your sammoth and help you get settled in.”

“Sammoth?” Elwaith questioned hesitantly, “I have more than one room?”

“Of course, as befits an elf of your station.”

“My station?” the tired elf asked incredulously as he followed behind Erestor clutching his dusty travel pack to his person.

“Are you not the Personal Healer for the Lord Celeborn and his Lady Galadriel? Master Herbalist for the realm of Lothlórien?”

The young elf’s smile brightened, and his posture straightened quite a bit as he only now realized the truth of Erestor’s statement, and his reply held almost as much revelation, as if this fact had only now occurred to him.

“Why yes, I guess I am.”

“Then hopefully these rooms will meet with your approval,” the seneschal responded as he unlocked and pushed open the double doors to the most exquisite suite of rooms the young elf had ever seen. His accommodations in Lothlórien were somewhat sparse, and he was used to making do with just the basics. Since most of his time was spent either in the infirmary, researching in the library or experimenting in the laboratory he did not miss the things that made life more comfortable – at least that is what he thought, until now.

As Erestor opened the door Elwaith immediately caught sight of an adjacent open doorway that led to another room, and the huge hand carved four-poster bed that sat on the other side. Billowy sheer draperies hanging from the canopy were fluttering lightly on the breeze, the bed itself looked as though it was big enough to hold four people, and the crisp white linens and plump eider-filled pillows made it look all the more inviting. Erestor stood to the side to allow Elwaith to enter the rooms first, and the look of wonder on the elf’s face was too good to miss. The seneschal smiled, pleased that he had indeed selected someone appreciative to spoil – as was his habit. The Last Homely House was famous for its hospitality, and all of Lord Elrond’s guests were well treated, but Erestor had long ago established a pattern of selecting one guest out of the sometimes many, and pampering them as only he could.

As the awe-struck young elf stepped further into the room, he noticed the doors leading to the balcony off to his left. Nestled snuggly in a corner was a large oak table equipped with inks, quills and some rather expensive looking parchment. On the wall over the table hung a large piece of black slate framed in matching oak, and on a small table beside it sat a box of colored chalk. Beside the table was the door to a small ante-room; a little larger than a closet, lined from floor to ceiling with shelves and Elwaith could see that all manner of herbs and elixirs sat waiting in glass apothecary jars; and last but not least, one whole wall of the room held books, dozens of books on medicine, herbs and anatomy.

“Oh my…,” he sighed longingly, “all this….for me?”

“I thought you might like to be able to work from your room should you wake in the night with an idea, This way you will not have to worry about dressing or access to the apothecary if you wish to experiment.” Reaching into his pocket he produced a braided leather lancet and handed it to Elwaith.

“Here is the key to the closet; I trust I do not have to remind you to…”

“Oh no,” Elwaith interrupted, “have no fear Lord Erestor I will be sure to keep it secured when I am not using it.”

“Of course…if you will follow me I will show you to your bathing chamber.”

“MY bathing chamber?” the elf asked in disbelief.

“Yes, your personal bath…you did express a desire to bathe, did you not?”

“Yes, I did…I just did not think that I would have…such privacy. In Lothlórien we use communal baths for the most part; I did not stop to think that it might be different here.”

“Well,” Erestor said as he opened the door to the bath, “I am pleased to be able to surprise you. Welcome to Imladris Master Elwaith.”

Stepping through the door of the chamber Elwaith found a luxuriously appointed room. The bathing vessel, a large hand-hammered copper tub, big enough to seat two comfortably, sat gleaming in the center of the room. Candles of various shapes, sizes, and scents sitting on ornately carved wrought iron pedestals ringed the room. Drying cloths woven from the finest linen, and the most sought after soaps and oils to be found anywhere in Arda were scattered in neat graceful groups around the room. And then there were the flowers, flowers of all kinds in small tastefully arranged groupings throughout the entire suite of rooms. Lastly, and much to Elwaith’s delight – another balcony, smaller, but a balcony none the less.

“I have taken the liberty of drawing your bath…I hope the scented oil is to your liking?”

Elwaith stood there wistfully, immersing himself in the ambiance and the unmistakable scent of jasmine – his favorite; finally he found voice to speak.

“Lord Erestor…everything is lovely…warm, inviting… and comforting – exactly what I needed, but I suspect you knew that,” he said blushing.

“I try to anticipate the needs of all our guests,” Erestor responded coyly, refusing to tip his hand that this was anything more than ‘business as usual’.

The young healer turned and faced the seneschal with weary tear-filled eyes “Yes, but this…its…its exactly what my spirit needed – thank you Lord Erestor, thank you for taking the time to see that.”

“Just ‘Erestor’ will do, no one addresses me as ‘Lord’ unless we are engaged in some type of formal negotiation, and you are most welcome. Well then, I will leave you to settle in, I will have one of the servants come by in say…45 minutes to bring you a luncheon tray? Meanwhile I will lay out something more comfortable for you to wear, try to get some rest, your friend will be sleeping until at least tomorrow, and unless something unforeseen happens, you will not be expected in the infirmary until morn. I will come by for you around 7:00 o’clock to escort you to the dining hall for the evening meal. In the meantime if you have need of anything else you have but to ask one of the servants, or send for me, I will be only too glad to help you.”

“Thank you Lord…I mean, thank you Erestor…you have been very kind.”

“It was my pleasure, now into the tub with you,” he said smiling, “after that long dusty trip I suspect it will take quite a bit of soaking to make you feel like an elf again.”

As the graceful seneschal turned and headed for the door Elwaith looked wistfully around the room and whispered. “Such opulence, everything you could ever need, wait until the elves back home hear about this.”

As the wily seneschal shut the door to the bathing chamber behind him, he smiled; thinking, “Mission accomplished.”


Chapter 43 - Too Little Too Late

The peacefulness of the southern border of Imladris belied the danger that lay just beneath the canopy of the dense green forest. It had taken a full day for Elrohir and the newly doubled sentry team to reach the southern gateway and the young elf sensed an air of unease amongst the trees. It was at times like these that he wished wholeheartedly that he’d developed a better affinity with the woody mammoths. He and his brother had often teased their woodland friend Legolas over his ability to speak with these long-lived majestic giants, arguing that communicating with animals was more advantageous. However, on this day it seemed as though the trees were determined to make themselves heard. Something was at odds here, and they wanted the elves to know.

The wind began to pick up, swirling the leaves that littered the forest floor into tubular eddies that danced along as if led by some unseen silent partner. Vindil and Aphrod were close to the end of their tour at the southern sentry post and were slowly beginning to pack up their belongings for the trip home. The relief column would arrive shortly and after a week at the outpost both elves were anxious to get back to the Last Homely House, and Lady Nilya’s excellent cooking. A week of dried meats, hard pallets and “catch as catch can” improvised meals had them ready to bid farewell to the outpost and hello to the comforts of home.

As the serious, “by the rules” Vindil stood watch in the trees, his affable easy-going patrol partner Aphrod continued packing up their camp. As elves go, Aphrod was viewed as one who had particularly well developed sensory skills, and at the moment they were working overtime. There was a scent on the air that Aphrod could not place. His nose told him that it was human, or humankind, but his brain said otherwise, there was something not quite right about it, something…off-putting. It was not a scent that the average nose would even detect, certainly no man would be able to smell it, and as the scent became more intensified Aphrod became more ill at ease and called to Vindil in the canopy above.

“Vindil! See you anything amiss?”

“If there was something amiss think you that I would not tell it? Why do you ask?”

“A scent.”

“Ahh, your famous nose again, or should I say ‘infamous’. Methinks you should visit the healers once we return home gwador nín, that nose of yours detects things that no other elf can smell, it must be some kind of abnormality!” he chortled.

“Laugh if you will, but I tell you there is a strange scent on the air; I think you should do a sweep of our perimeter.”

“I smell nothing, and I see nothing, tis just your overactive imagination playing tricks on you again. I still have not forgotten that incident where you thought you saw a warg, only to find out later that it was merely a stray mule - loose from the pastures.”

“Do you never intend to let me live that down? That was over two hundred years ago and still you plague me with it, and I will have you know it could very well have been a warg, it was a very BIG mule!”

“Nevertheless,” Vindil said laughingly, “there is nothing there!”

“As you say,” Aphrod acquiesced, then mumbled under his breath, “…but I still say I smell something.”

It was the first time in many long years that Vindil failed to follow protocol. Known, as one who always obeyed the rules, his offhand dismissal of Aphrod’s concerns would prove to be a fatal mistake, one that would haunt him for many days to come. As Aphrod finished packing he could not dispel the feeling that he was being watched, and despite Vindil’s assertion that they were alone, he decided that one of them should do the sweep. If it would not be Vindil in the trees, then it would have to be him on the ground. Looking back up into the canopy he called out. “I am going to take a look around.”

Exasperated with the young elf’s persistence Vindil responded testily, “Suit yourself, but I tell you there is nothing out there.”

Aphrod decided he’d had enough of this seemingly unending underestimation of his talented nose, and responded in kind. “I will look all the same!” he said heatedly, then promptly grabbed his bow and quiver and stomped off into the woods following the scent, muttering as he went.

“I do not understand why no one believes me when I tell them that I smell things that they cannot. Udalin as much as said that he thinks I am imagining things and even Lord Elrond has given me questioning looks…if I did not know better I would think…,” the young elf stopped in his tracks, the scent came over him in a rush, heated, evil? Was that what he smelled? It was as if he had walked into a room that was locked with the scent inside. “Who goes there?” he called out as he nocked an arrow. “I know you are out there, show yourself now or seal your fate if I come upon you!”

~~~~~~

Elrohir and Lethros rode side by side down the trail to the southern sentry post following Rilloth and Panír, while Imril and Braneth two of Lord Elrond’s most experienced warriors brought up the rear. Normally the twins would be found together, but long before this situation arose, Lord Glorfindel separated them whenever he could. Having witnessed firsthand how reckless the twins could be in their seemingly endless quest for orc blood, Glorfindel decided that if they could not be controlled when they were out in the wilderness on their own, he would make sure that when they were under their father’s roof, and his command, that a new set of rules would apply. To that end, he made Elrond aware of his concern, noting that allowing the twins to always ride together in the field was too risky.

As patrol leaders in Imladris’ defense force, the two were never contradicted by their troops in the field, and without some form of checks and balances they would indubitably ride side by side at the head of the column. Glorfindel’s argument was that in the event of an attack they would most assuredly be the first ones targeted, and the thought of Elrond losing both his sons in battle was not an option. So, with Elrond’s blessing, Imladris’ Commander split the two apart for the first time in their lives, sending one to the southern border and the other to the east. Further, if they found themselves in a situation where they had to ride in the same patrol, he forbid them to ever ride point and gave each a ‘companion’ who, unbeknownst to the twins, had specific instructions to make sure that Glorfindel’s orders were carried out. It also helped him to solve a second problem, as the brothers Lethros and Brithil were almost as inseparable as the twins and equally as stubborn. They had, in the past, devised some rather ingenious ways of being assigned to the same details, ensuring that they would never be far from one another.

Glorfindel saw this too as a potential problem, as peaceful as Imladris usually was, he did not wish to ever be in the position of having to tell a set of parents that both their sons had been killed; so to that end he separated them as well, sending Brithil to ride with Elladan leaving Lethros to ride with Elrohir. He would not let it be said, that here, in his second life, he was careless or cavalier with the lives of others, especially those who had so much to live for.

As the sentry party approached a bend in the trail leading to the outpost, the peaceful tranquility of their surroundings was shattered by a scream so loud it seemed to split the very air around them. Rilloth and Panír reined their mounts to a stop as Braneth and Imril closed the distance – effectively protecting their young Lord’s back.

“Sweet Eru, did you hear that?” Imril yelled.

“It is coming from up ahead,” Rilloth confirmed.

“Elbereth…no…the outpost! Follow me!” Elrohir called out as his grey stallion Gaer-sûl took the lead and bore him past his companions.

“My Lord…no!” yelled Lethros as he moved to cut across Elrohir’s path. “You must not ride out ahead of us!” Elrohir shot him a look that would normally have silenced any underling, but this time Lethros would not be put off, his promise to Glorfindel, though foremost in his mind, was overshadowed by the oath he’d sworn to Lord Elrond himself – he would not let Elrohir take the lead this day.

“Daro! Daro young lord, you will ride with Lethros!” yelled Braneth, the patrol Captain. “I will take the lead, Rilloth fall back to guard our rear!”

Not usually one to employ the tactic of ‘personal station’, Elrohir tried to use his ‘rank’ as Elrond’s heir as he watched Braneth ride up to take his place in the entourage, “You dare to gainsay (contradict) me?” he bellowed.

“Now is not the time for this Lieutenant, you may try to take me to task once we are safely home, but for now you will ride behind your second or you will not ride!” Braneth, Captain over all the patrols, made it crystal clear, station or no station, who was really in charge. Nodding his ‘make it so’ command, Elrohir was forced to sit and watch as the determined young Lethros carried out the order, grabbing the cavesson (noseband) of Elrohir’s spirited stallion and holding on tightly until Rilloth and Braneth assumed their positions. As another scream rent the air Braneth shouted his orders.

“Imril close in tight! To the outpost, everyone watch your flanks…RIDE!”

Ignoring Elrohir’s steely glare Lethros finally released the reins and rode out behind Braneth – and ahead of Elrohir. The young lord grinned, his suspicions were now confirmed, he and his brother were being “protected,” just as Elladan thought.

‘Oh someone will be taken to task all right, but it will not be you my friend,’ he thought as he chased Lethros towards the sentry station. ‘It seems that Dan and I will have to have a long, long talk with Adar. Whenever will he learn, he cannot coddle us forever?’

As more screams filled the air, thoughts of he and his brother were replaced with the only thought that mattered, ‘Please Eru…do not let us be too late’.


Chapter 44 - Introductions and Awe

Estel’s daily nap time was almost over, and although he loved the new change of sleeping with his father, he’d allowed poor Elrond to get precious little in the way of napping done. Estel had spent almost the entire time fussing and fidgeting about, ‘taking care’ of his father. Each time the ancient healer began to dose off he would find himself shocked back to wakefulness by the application of an icy cold cloth upon his forehead, and tiny fingers stretching his eyes completely open to make sure he was all right. Nestron Estel was in attendance, and he was taking no chances that his father might slip away from this otherwise mortal veil.

Every few minutes the little one was checking, poking, prodding, and pulling his long-suffering father further and further away from the sleep he so desperately craved. Since sleep was not to be had, Elrond relinquished Estel’s care to Rúmil and slowly made his way to the healing wing. His stomach was still a bit queasy from the lunch Estel had prepared two days earlier, but he could not help but laugh at the unintentional mischief his little one seemed to always find himself a part of.

“Imagine that,” he thought, “Estel, so worried about me that he would try and cook my meal.” “The El’s are right; I really must not be taking very good care of myself if even the laes (baby) can see it.”

As he made his way to the infirmary his thoughts continued along these lines right up until he reached the entrance. Pushing the door open he was startled to a stop as Golros, one of the house sentries, wheeled, and blocked his path, sword drawn. “Forgive me my Lord,” the elf bowed apologetically as he quickly re-sheathed his weapon. “Reflexes – I did not realize it was you…Lord Glorfindel told me to…”

“No apologies are needed Golros, it is good to know that everyone is taking this threat seriously, and following Lord Glorfindel’s directions to the letter.”

“Aye Milord, I have armed my hervess (wife) as well; she has only had limited training, but I have taught her the basics of defending herself…she is surprisingly good at hand-to-hand,” the younger elf beamed proudly. “She has not quite mastered the balance required to handle a sword…but still she is an apt pupil and quite willing to learn, I thought it best that she be prepared for anything.”

Elrond moved to place his hand affectionately on Golros’ back. Every elf in Imladris was to him, one of his own, and his memories of their births or arrivals in Imladris were as fresh in his mind as if it had occurred only yesterday.

“Excellent Golros…you set a good example for the others. This whole situation as made me very keenly aware of just how vulnerable we are. The more I think of it the more I realize that such training is necessary for all who live here, not just our warriors.”

“I think that I will have the Lord Glorfindel address the matter aggressively once this crisis is over. It does not sit well with me that not all the ellith of Imladris are capable of defending themselves in the event of an attack. Do you think that you would be interested in assisting him? Or perhaps supervising such classes yourself?”

“My Lord I would be honored!” Golros exclaimed excitedly. “Adril says that I am a good teacher…granted she is probably a little prejudiced on my behalf,” he said smiling, “but she does say that I am patient,” the attentive sentry replied as he stepped aside allowing his lord to pass.

“Good, then that is what I will suggest to Lord Glorfindel, that he take the more experienced ellith into training and that you will take those with less experience under your protective wing. When they have progressed to your satisfaction they will then graduate to Lord Glorfindel’s advanced class. As you know, their initial training will be very important, they will not be able to keep up with Glorfindel if you do not instill in them solid basics of technique and protocol.”

Golros’ face radiated with pride, that Lord Elrond himself had placed such an important task in his hands was quite a boon. It was, for all intent and purpose, a promotion. It meant that not only would he now be included in all the meetings that the instructors held, but also that he would now sit at table with all the warriors of rank. Braneth and Ecthíras the Captains for the patrols and gates; Moldórë the Armorer; Illarion the Bow Master; Maeraen the Hatholdan (weapons expert); Cilinwë the Master of Swords and Captain of Elrond’s personal guard, and last but not least his idol and mentor Glorfindel, Commander of the Host.

“Thank you Lord Elrond,” the elf effused “I will not let you down milord,” he bubbled, large smile in place.

“I know you will not Golros,” Elrond smiled, “you have done wonderful work with protecting the house, and I think it time for you to move up to something with more responsibility and I cannot think of anything more important than undertaking the teaching of our ellith.”

“Aye milord, Adril was at first a little reluctant, but then came to see the importance and necessity of being able to defend herself should the need occur. Now she chastises me greatly if I even suggest that we skip a lesson in lieu of other pursuits. To know that I will now be teaching a formal class will motivate her immensely.”

Elrond smiled handsomely, the energy and enthusiasm of youth never failed to invigorate him. “It is done then. I will have Glorfindel set up a meeting with you to go over his expectations and the actual class content. Del will be most pleased to see how you have come along.” Elrond then leaned in and whispered so that only Golros could hear, “…you have always been a favorite of his, to know that you will now be teaching…well, it will make his day.”

“Thank you milord, I will do my best, I promise you!”

Golros bowed his head and backed away as Elrond turned and headed towards the private healing chambers; the thought in his head that Golros would ‘do just fine…’ now, ‘…if only the same could be said of Andras…’

~~~~~~

Estel sat joyfully playing with Rúmil on the floor of his room. When the knock on the door came the child was so engaged in his play that he didn’t even hear it. Rúmil slowly rose and crossed to the door; with his hand on his dagger, he braced himself behind the door and opened it just a crack to view who was on the other side. Smiling at who he saw, he looked back and called out to Estel.

“Ahhh, little one you have a visitor…look who is here!”

As the boy looked up, his mouth fairly fell open. Slowly entering the room was the most commanding figure of an elf Estel had ever seen. Taller than Rúmil with long silver blonde hair that draped like silk around his neck, and an almost regal bearing; his broad shoulders and trim physique made him seem all the more imposing.

“Come here little one I would like to introduce you to my brother.”

Estel sat awe-struck as his ever-widening eyes took in the sight before him. Standing there wearing a soft tan tunic, brown leggings and supple brown suede boots was the renowned elf of whom Estel had heard so many stories. As the child stood and slowly crossed the room to the door, the elf in front of him seemed to become even taller.

“Estel Elrondion may I introduce my brother, Haldir Hesonion, March Warden of Lothlórien, Haldir this is Estel.”

Haldir bowed his head, placed his hand across his heart, and greeted the awestruck youngster.

“Mae Govannen Lord Estel.”

Estel, usually a fount of questions and words could only muster a feeble “Oh-my-goo-ness,” in response.

“My brother, it seems as if you have been able to accomplish what no other before you has ever done.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you have rendered our loquacious little Estel speechless!”

As Rúmil and Haldir stood there smiling at the boy, Estel finally found his voice…

“Are you weally Hal-deer?”

“I am.”

“You da MarchWa’den?”

Nodding his head in the affirmative Haldir replied smiling, “I see my reputation has preceded me.”

“Are you weally Wú’s big brudder?”

“Wú?”

“Yes Halli, that is what he calls me – he has…adopted me!” Rúmil said sticking out his chest and grinning proudly. Whispering now he confided, “When he likes you he shortens your name – easier for him to say.”

“I see. Then yes little one, I am Wú’s big brother.”

The duly impressed little boy could only breathlessly mutter “Oh my…” which left his guardians close to laughter. Finally remembering his manners the little adan assumed his much-practiced position placing an arm at his waist and one behind his back and bowed to the legendary warden.

“Mae Gov-an-nen, I bery pweased to make you…,” thinking now of what the right word should be he continued, “…to make you a-quain-tance.”

The warden’s eyebrow rose slightly as he took in this unexpected little treasure. When he was informed by Glorfindel that he and his brother would be guardians for the child he felt honored at being entrusted with the welfare of Lord Elrond’s son; however, he held out no particular hope that this child, being mortal, would be even the least bit tolerable. Now here he was, face to knee with what appeared, at least for the moment, to be a well-mannered respectful child. Glancing at his brother he could not miss the “proud papa” look upon his face. Smiling, the thought crossed his mind that one day Rúmil would make a great father. He hoped that it would be one day soon for he genuinely looked forward to becoming an uncle.

“As I am pleased to make yours young Estel,” he said bowing gracefully. “Rúmil I have come to visit with Estel so that you may get some rest.”

“I am not that tired muindor, Estel actually has me quite relaxed.”

The March Warden’s voice took on a slightly more authoritive tone “Be that as it may, it is time for you to take some rest, it was a long journey and ever since we received this assignment you have refused to be relieved. You have slept very little; at first I thought it was just your enthusiasm to be of service, but now I question that. You came straight here from our meeting with Lord Elrond and…”

Rúmil, not wishing to be separated from the child cut in before he could finish the sentence. “You have not rested sufficiently either, I know that you could use at least a week of sleep, yet you are here…I feel fine Haldir I really do not need to rest.”

As the two Galadhel went back and forth Estel stood quietly watching. When the debate seemed to be going nowhere the boy finally spoke up. In a fair imitation of his tutor he shook his head back and forth as he began to “tsk, tsk” the two adults. Slightly taken aback by the young lord’s obvious disapproval Rúmil inquired, “What is the matter Estel?”

Leaning in towards Rúmil the child answered, “You are ‘pu-ting.”

The two looked at each other confused, “Pu-ting Estel?”

“Yeth, you are pu-ting you brudder, das not nice.”

“I do not understand what you mean Estel,” Rúmil replied.

“I do,” Haldir answered confidently. “He said you are disputing me.”

“Yeth, dat…das not nice. You s’posed to do what you brudder tells you,” he said nodding assuredly.

“Well…, I like this child already,” Haldir said aloud.

“You s’pose to always do wha you big brudders tell you…das what Roh and Dan said,” the child repeated confidently.

“I see.” Rúmil, now properly chastised, responded. “I apologize Halli, Estel is quite right when he points out that I should be more…”

“’Spec-ful! You not s’posed to be naughty…you a BIG boy.”

Rúmil was squirming now. Haldir was wearing a look of complete satisfaction; and at any moment Rúmil expected his elder sibling to blurt out, ‘I have been telling you this for years’, but instead he just smiled that annoying ‘know it-all’ smile of his.

As much as he hated to admit it, the child was right, he should not be standing there going word for word with Haldir. Aside from setting a bad example for the boy, he owed Haldir his life; his very existence was in part to Haldir’s loving care, and his commitment to protecting him and Orophin when they found themselves alone in the world.

Haldir was owed much, the least of which was Rúmil’s respect. It finally dawned on him that Estel, having just met the March Warden, did not know Haldir’s character, and that by standing there arguing, he made Haldir look mean, worse he made him look like a bully, two things that he definitely was not.

“I beg pardon brother, you are right, I probably do need rest. The trail was hard and I have not given myself enough time to recuperate.”

Haldir inclined his head and nodded curtly in acknowledgment of Rúmil’s admission, The younger elf then knelt down to say good-bye to Estel, as much as he wanted to stay with the child, he knew his brother to be right; the thing most needed now was rest.

“Estel, thank you for reminding me that I should be more respectful with my brother, I love him very much…,” he said has he looked up at Haldir, “…and I should not argue with him. Will I see you later at evening meal?”

“Yeth!” the child exclaimed excitedly, “I will ask ada if I can sit with da warriors again…I t’ink he will let me cause I was good last time, I dinna spill or make noise or wiggle, or nuthin’…I was a good boy.”

“Very well little one, until then…you will be a good boy for Halli?”

The boy nodded vigorously, “Oh yeth, I pwamice Wú, I be no twouble at all.”

“Until later then.”

As Haldir moved forward into the room he extended his hand to Estel. The child eagerly placed his hand into Haldir’s, graced him with a toothy grin and the questions began at once. “Hal-deer why does Wú call you Halli?”

Taking a seat on the cushy sofa Haldir placed the child on his knee, and Estel sat enraptured as Haldir began to explain.

“Well, when Rúmil was a little smaller than you he had a very difficult time trying to pronounce my name. No matter how hard he tried, it just did not seem to come out right. Sometimes it sounded like Hal-dee, sometimes Haa-dee, he just could not get it right. Well I was very young and very stubborn back then…”

“Not like now,” Estel said shaking his head in the negative.

“Right, not like now, and I told him if he did not say my name the right way I would not speak to him ever again. Well this made Rúmil very upset, and he started to cry, well I knew if my Naneth came back from the laundress and heard him crying I would be in big trouble.”

“Big twouble!”

“Huge trouble. So I tried to calm him down, but nothing would work. So I thought maybe if I got him something to eat he would stop, so I went to the stove…”

“You got to use da stove?” the child asked incredulously.

“Only for very basic things – I was quite a responsible little ellon in those days…”

“Like now, yeth?” Estel said nodding enthusiastically.

“Yes, like now, and from time to time my Naneth would let me cook. So I went to the stove to make Rúmil his favorite porridge – the whole time he was crying and wailing and sputtering, trying his best to say my name.”

“Aww…poor Wú,” the tiny child added while shaking his head sympathetically.

“Yes, well, in the midst of all this I looked out the window and saw my Naneth at the end of the path…”

“Uh-oh…you in twouble!” Estel responded as he pointed at the warden.

“Uh-oh indeed. So as I was saying…Rúmil was crying non-stop, I was trying to get his porridge into a bowl to hush him up, and my Naneth was on her way down the path. He was crying, and crying and crying and getting louder by the moment, and I was getting more and more frustrated…”

“Fus-tated, right!”

“Then all of a sudden he hiccupped and then he just kind of ‘burped’ out ‘HALLI’ at the top of his lungs. Well, I was so annoyed with him and it took me so by surprise that I wheeled around and yelled, ‘What Do You Want?!’ And lo and behold he immediately stopped crying. He looked at me, smiled, and said in this very sing-song voice ‘Hal-li talk to Me-el’. He tricked me! The little devil tricked me into talking to him, and as soon as I did he stopped crying, and just sat there with this silly grin on his face.”

“Well, I was tempted to pour the whole bowl of porridge on his head, but just then our Naneth came in the door, complemented him on what a good little ellon he had been while she was gone, and asked me to fetch the laundry basket in from the bottom of the stairs. As I started for the door I looked back and he waved at me and said “Bye-Bye Halli” – and then he stuck his tongue out at me. He has been calling me Halli ever since.”

Estel’s giggles filled the room. “He got you Hal-deer! I know cause my brudders get me alll da time.”

Haldir sat entranced, totally captivated by this little human with the engaging personality and the huge smile. Tickling the child on his lap he replied, “Yes, I suppose he did.” As Estel fought off the tickling fingers, Haldir asked. “So Estel…how shall we spend our time today?”

Never one to miss an opportunity to do something new, Estel didn’t skip a beat. “Will you teach me how to track? Aphrod said he would but he has been on patrol.”

“Tracking ‘eh?”

“Yup!”

“Tracking it is then; we shall go out into the garden and see if we can pick up any sign.”

“Dere is a bunny who lives in da garden, can we track her?” the child asked excitedly. “Westor said it is an elleth an he t’inks she has a fam-lie…can we track her?”

“If she has left so much as one paw print we will track her right to the door of her den.”

“Yipee!” the boy exclaimed as he jumped down from his guardian’s lap, “I goin’ bunny huntin’!”

Slowly Haldir rose from the sofa and Estel placed his tiny fingers in the Warden’s well-worn hand and led him out the terrace doors. As they approached the winding flight of stairs that led down to the garden, Estel looked up adoringly at the golden warrior…”Hal-deer?” he asked, “May I call you Halli?”

Thoughts of all the opportunities he’d missed to become a husband and a father flooded Haldir’s mind. As he looked down at this angel of a child, the tough March Warden blinked back tears and had to clear his throat.

”Yes,” he said, “….you certainly may.”


Chapter 45 - Regrets

The scream not only broke the peace of the otherwise calm and lazy afternoon, it struck straight through to the heart of Vindil. His head jerked round at the shrill sound, and he was instantly moving in the direction from which it had come. Calling out now, he yelled his companion’s name.

“Aphrod! Aphrod!”

A second scream followed the first as Vindil’s feet hit the ground, he was panicked now…"Eru, what is happening to him?” His mind raced as his body speedily made its way to the source of the scream.

“Aphrod!” he called again – no response. Only the sounds of a scuffle met his ears. Then, there it was again, another scream, then suddenly behind him the sound of hoof beats. Glancing over his shoulder as he ran, he could see Braneth riding hard, and behind him Lethros and Elrohir and he called out to them.

“Hurry! This way!” he yelled as he pointed out the direction with the end of his bow. Moving off to the side of the trail he allowed the riders to pass. As the last rider, Rilloth, approached, he leaned over the side of his horse extending his arm, and Vindil grabbed on and swung up behind him onto Swiftwing’s back. Another scream and then a groan of agony was heard as the elves rode into a dense grove of Sycamore trees.

Finally reaching a small clearing, Braneth was dismounting before his horse even came to a full stop. Drawing his sword he ran to the battered body before him and felt for a pulse. One by one, the other riders made it into the clearing as he knelt beside Aphrod’s body trying to rouse him. His initial attempts were futile, and now he could see why; several dark gray-to-black handprints dotted the exposed skin on Aphrod’s body. There was one on his left wrist and hand, and another on his right. One near the side of his neck and another where his shirt sleeve had been ripped away, revealing a fourth larger wound on his arm. The flesh was withering and already dry, as if the very life had been drawn from it, and it appeared to be spreading. As he scanned the surrounding area Braneth called out. “He lives! Quickly, help me get him up.”

The Captain immediately took charge shouting out his orders, the anger, and tension in his voice apparent. “Panír, Imril, Rilloth sweep the area, stay within sight of each other, the assailant could not have gotten far, find him!” Gingerly he helped Lethros lift the unconscious elf, placing him on the back of Lethros’ mount.

“Vindil gather your horse and ride back to the house with Lethros – take Aphrod’s horse as well, leave nothing behind that you must come back for, ride hard and do not stop until you reach sanctuary – hurry! Elrohir, with me!”

Fanning out into the bushes the elves searched for any trace of the attacker, suddenly after several minutes Rilloth called out, “Im gar rein!” (I have track) immediately the others converged on his position.

“What see you Rilloth?”

”It is small, barely there, but there none-the-less. See? he said as he pointed at the imprint left in the mud. He is wearing soft boots…the track is too light to be that of a human.”

“What are you saying?” demanded Elrohir. “If not human then what?”

“The track is too light for a human milord, too heavy for a dwarf, too small for a hobbit or a troll, and not iron shod like an orc.”

“Rilloth, that only leaves one option, and that cannot be.”

“See for yourself milord, the sign does not lie. Whoever left this track…is an elf.”

Elrohir pushed to the front of the group, kneeling down he examined the track for himself, praying that Rilloth was wrong. Unfortunately his prayers would not be answered this day, but then he knew that before he looked. Rilloth was arguably the best tracker in any of the four Elven realms, and had once pursued a fox for more than ten miles during the heat of summer when the ground was hard packed and unforgiving, and had found his prey. Elrohir learned a valuable lesson that day; when the best tracker in the realm tells you it is so, it is so. The group stood there dumbfounded. One of theirs? One of their own had done this? But how could that be?

Braneth rose, his gaze never moved from the track, but the set of his jaw told everyone what he was thinking. “Everyone mount up…we must get back to the house. If this killer is an elf, then the other patrols must be made aware of it immediately.”

“Aye,” Elrohir responded, “I do not think my father was expecting anything like this…”

“None of us was…but it is of no account – whoever has done this, whoever has brought this plague down upon our people will pay – it matters not if he be mortal, or elf, or some mystic being from another world, it matters not – the price for his treachery will be the same – death.”

~~~~~


The activity in the kitchen of the Last Homely House was frenetic. Lady Nilya’s troops were darting in and out and back and forth as they prepared for the evening meal. With seven extra mouths to feed the Lady was directing traffic and spewing out orders like a seasoned general. Food from Lady Nilya’s kitchens was always guaranteed to be delectable, however when there were guests about she had a tendency to ‘put on the dog,’ to show off a bit, for she did not like it said that the chefs of Lothlórien, Mirkwood or the Havens set a better table then she. Yes, she knew that it was pure vanity that drove her in those situations, but she decided that she was entitled to a little vanity. After all, she’d lived a very long time, and she would not have it said that after all these years she could still be ‘outdone’ by some mere slip of an ellith from any of those realms. As she passed along the rows of worktables she would stop periodically to examine the various dishes, and to occasionally add her little finishing touches.

“Adril, add a little more chopped parsley to the stew, if you please…”

“Yes ma’mam.”

“Indórië, are you keeping an eye on the bread?”

“Yes Lady Nilya.”

“Watch it carefully dear, it only takes a minute or two to go from perfectly browned to burned to a crisp in that oven…”

“Perwaen how many more pies are in the oven?”

“Six, Milady.”

“Very good, we must make certain there are enough desserts with the extra warriors about…Eru how those ellyn love sweets,” she laughed.

“And let us not forget Lord Elrond and Estel Lady Nil, the little one was fare bouncing in his little boots when you agreed to lead the hunt for his ‘boo’ berries.”

“Aye…that he was,” she laughed, “and I dare say Lord Elrond was rather pleased with the prospect himself. Pity that we had to wait the extra days for them to fully ripen, but he shall have his pies tonight.” Moving further down the table, Nilya stopped to rearrange several bowls of roasted potatoes so that they would not spill over on to the floor when they were carried into the dining hall. Then she mentally went through her checklist.

Wine, ale, cooled water, buttermilk for the baby, stewed venison, rainbow trout, roasted chicken, dumplings, green peas, roasted potatoes, ‘cloud’ potatoes for Estel, mushrooms, biscuits, fresh butter, preserves, honey, 3 kinds of cheese, sliced spring melon, and last but not least blueberry pie. “That should just about do it,” she said aloud.

“Menwen, are the tables ready?”

“Yes milady, except for the flowers…Thorodir has just gone out to the sannan (the gardener) to get them.”

“Well at least you have put him to good use, all these extra sentries standing about - serves no purpose if you ask me…except to get in my way,” she declared. Titters and giggles were heard throughout the room as she continued invoicing her objections. “Warriors with weapons in the house…having to take one of them with you wherever you go, well I never!” she grumbled. “When he comes back make sure that you supervise their placement, and be sure you give them a good shake – I will not have ants and bugs crawling across my supper tables.”

“Yes ma’mam.”

Just then, Nilya’s keen ears caught the sound of horse’s hooves; whoever it was they were in a hurry, and they were riding hard. “Menwen, run to the front door and see who it is that approaches, the last thing we need right now is more visitors.”

“Yes Milady.”

As Menwen made her way to the door, the Lady quite unexpectedly took a seat on the stool in the corner. An uncharacteristic feeling of anxiety swept over her, and she felt light-headed. Indórië, was the first to notice the lady’s weakened appearance, and moved quickly to her side.

“Milady, what ails you?” she said as she reached out to take Nilya’s hand. Though the kitchen was as hot as always, Nilya’s hand was cold as ice. “Perwaen, quickly…a cup of water for the lady.” As Nilya struggled to regain her bearings and clear her head, Indórië stood at her side fanning her with an apron.

“What is wrong?” Perwaen questioned as she took to a knee at Nilya’s feet. Still unable to articulate an answer, the elder elf merely shook her head in obvious confusion. Looking back and forth between the two ellith at her side she was only able to utter a few words. “The food, do not let it burn,” before slumping unconscious against the wall. Cries of “My Lady!” and “Elbereth No!” went up around the kitchen as the members of the cooking staff moved to Nilya’s side, Perwaen quickly took charge and began to set things back in order.

“Indórië, fetch one of the healers, quickly!”

The elleth turned so speedily she almost bowled over Menwen and the returning sentry Thorodir, as she ran head long through the door in search of a healer.

“Adril, tend to the food…Lady Nilya will have all our hides if her supper is ruined over a little fainting spell.” The look that passed between the ellith was telling; both knew that this was no mere fainting spell, but neither wished to alarm the other helpers. “Come now…,” she said clapping her hands together, ”…the rest of you back to your work, tis merely the heat.”

“What has happened?” queried Thorodir as Nilya’s eyes fluttered open.

“It is nothing,” Nilya sighed breathlessly, “I merely became a little overheated, tis nothing…why are all of you gathered ‘round me? Go, get back to your duties, go, shoo!” she said flapping her apron bottom at them as they slowly moved away. Perwaen however was not so easily moved.

“I have sent for a healer,” she whispered, as she cautiously eyed Nilya for any further signs of distress.

“Good, then perhaps he can help you carry some of this food out to the dining hall, for that is certainly the only reason why he will be needed in this kitchen this evening.”

Despite the great lady’s show of power, Perwaen was still not convinced, and Nilya knew that she would have to give sway to her in some way or the elleth would dog her footsteps for the rest of the night. Peeking to make sure the others were out of earshot she adopted a softer stance and nominally acquiesced. “I will see him when he comes,” she said softly, “…tis nothing, I will be fine.”

Perwaen finally nodded her agreement and turned to go back to her duties leaving one last caveat, “When supper is over you and I will have a talk…yes?” Nilya nodded her agreement and tentatively made to stand. Finding her center of gravity she took a few halting steps then drew herself up straight once more. With her balance restored, she once again took command of her kitchen and gave instructions to her troops, while in the back of her mind she tried to figure out how she would explain to the persistent Perwaen how this feeling of evil had just come upon her. More importantly, why she had not mentioned that it was not the first time.
~~~~~~~

Lethros rode into the courtyard at full tilt, shouting for the healers as he came. Vindil appeared right behind him leading Aphrod’s mount carrying all their supplies. The gate sentry Hírómë ran beside Lethros’ horse until it slowed on the cobblestone walk, then he continued up the front stairs taking them two at a time disappearing inside the door. Raised voices in the courtyard brought Glorfindel, Cilinwë and the newly assigned guard for the first floor, Malrin, bounding down the stairs, as Ecthíras, the Captain of the Gate, approached from the side of the house.

“What has happened?” Glorfindel demanded as he grabbed the horse’s reins and brought him to a complete stop. “Where are the others?”

“The southern outpost was attacked, Aphrod is badly wounded. Where is the healer?” Lethros cried desperately as he scanned the doorway searching for assistance. His call was answered moments later when Lord Elrond and his second assistant Sereth came running down the stairs with Hírómë close behind. As Lethros gently eased the injured elf from the back of his horse, he related the events of the day to Glorfindel, who, along with Ecthíras, began issuing commands to secure the courtyard and the house. Lord Elrond and Sereth gave the unconscious Aphrod a preliminary exam as Elrond’s third assistant Olmarth emerged from the house carrying a stretcher.

“Careful now,” Elrond cautioned, “be careful of his hands.” “Quickly, get him into the infirmary, Glorfindel…?”

“Take care of your patient milord, I will handle all else.”

Nodding his assent Elrond quickly followed the healers and the stretcher-bound Aphrod into the house. Vindil followed right behind him, while the commander re-organized the sentries and the household guard. Lethros, who was only now catching his breath, began again to give a more precise report of their encounter with the attacker. Just as he was starting his story, hoof beats were again heard on the road leading to the front gate. Braneth’s patrol rode hard into the courtyard, the lead horse pulling up just shy of running over the balrog slayer, and Glorfindel called out as the party dismounted.

“Did you find anyone? Was there any trail?” Before Braneth answered, he turned pointing at Hírómë

“Shut the gates! Lock everything down!”

“What has happened?” Glorfindel demanded as they moved towards the stairs.

“We did not find the culprit, but we have news, come, we must speak to Lord Elrond as soon as possible.” Turning, Braneth addressed the Gate Captain, “Allow no one to enter that you do not know, and do not let anyone approach you, no matter how innocent they appear. Do not let anyone you do not know get close enough to touch you!”

“Glorfindel this attacker has taken on a guise that none of us expected!”

“Of what do you speak Braneth…?”

“We have reason to believe that our attacker is an elf.”

The commander stopped still in his tracks grabbing Braneth by the arm and halting his steps. “That is madness…no elf would…no elf COULD do what this monster has done.”

“Well this one can – I can find no explanation for it either my friend, but there is little doubt Del, Rilloth found track, whatever his thinking, whatever his reason, our assailant IS an elf. Come, Lord Elrond must be made aware of this as soon as possible.”

“Our Lord has his hands full at the moment, and we have more important issues to handle, we must secure this house and warn our other outposts.”

Issuing his orders as he walked towards the house Glorfindel continued, “Rilloth, Panír! As soon as you have caught your breath I want each of you to get a fresh mount and ride with Braneth to our other outposts, if there is one of these…’elves’ there may be more. Take Geleph and Golros with you. We cannot take the chance that our people might come upon this ‘elf’ unsuspectingly. Have them pack up and return at once to the house – they are not to stop or make camp. I will not have our people alone out there at this monster’s mercy. Ecthíras find Erestor and make secure the house. Hírómë locate Rúmil, and Haldir, Haldir is most likely with Estel, have him take the babe to Lady Nilya in the kitchens – make sure she understands that Estel is not to leave her sight.”

“Aye Milord.”

Just then Malrin interrupted, “My lord, by your leave…I would like to ride with the sentries, this beast has plagued us for weeks, please my lord give me the chance to hunt this creature.”

Glorfindel considered Malrin’s motives, but more importantly his demeanor; he would not send a warrior out into a perilous situation who might be a danger to himself and his companions. Carefully he scrutinized the elf before him, ‘Eagerness, yet control…’ he thought, then he came to a decision. “Very well, go with Braneth, he will see to it that you are well mounted, All of you – be careful, take no unnecessary chances.”

“Aye milord!”

“Imril, alert Illarion (the Bow Master) have him make sure we have enough arrows in case there is an attack, then go to Moldórë (The Armorer), we may need both bows and armor before this is done – the rest of you – to the war room!”


Chapter 46 - Tracking and Guarding

The garden at the side of the house was the scene of a major hunting party. Two bold intrepid warriors were tracking the ever elusive and always wily, bunny rabbit. This particular species of herbivore was known throughout the realm as a voracious eater, albeit of lettuce and carrots, and for being deceptively fast and cunning. On their way into the garden, the Marchwarden found an ancient Elm tree whose upper limbs were showing signs of its age. Climbing high into the canopy, Haldir took two thin dead branches and easily lopped them off with his knife.

Back on the ground, he trimmed them and cut them to length, making handy walking sticks for himself and Estel. As he slowly led Estel through the garden, he used his stick to indicate signs that the little forest creature they sought had passed that way. A broken twig, a footprint, grass pressed firm to the ground where the little rabbit had lain to rest. As the two moved quietly through the flowers, the Galadhel pointed out a nibbled on dandelion and Estel was delighted to see that his little rabbit had stopped long enough to have luncheon, and as usual, a stream of questions ensued.

“Look Halli she ate almost all da leaves, do you t’ink dat was enough? She not still hungry is she?”

“I think that was more than enough little one, remember she is very small, she is probably quite full by now.”

“Do you t’ink mayhaps she took some home to her babies?”

“Humm…it would depend on how big they are, if they are very little then she would not feed them leaves and flowers, she would nurse them…and if they are bigger she would bring them out to the flowers to eat on their own.”

“Halli, whas nurse? Whas dat mean?”

The Galadhel had not anticipated Estel’s overwhelming curiosity about everything around him, and became quite flustered. Many centuries had passed since he’d had to deal with that kind of question, not since an innocent Orophin had asked where kittens come from; as he recalled he hadn’t done very well answering that question either. He’d gone through a long and ultimately detailed account of how kittens are conceived and born, only to realize too late that all Orophin wanted to know was how they came to be in Lothlórien. As he stuttered and hesitated, trying to figure out just how much to say, Hírómë came running into the garden.

“Haldir!”

“Shhhh Rómë,” Estel whispered, finger to his lips, “youl scare da bunny.”

”I am sorry Estel…but Haldir you are needed by Lord Glorfindel. He asks that you come at once, and he would like you to take Estel to Lady Nilya…until later,” he said cautiously. Motioning Haldir to the side, he whispered in his ear. “There has been another attack; you are to take the babe to the lady and make sure she understands that she is not to let him out of her sight.” Taking note of how intently Estel tried to listen to their conversation, he spelled out the rest of his message, “…then meet Lord Glorfindel in the w-a-r r-o-o-m.” Haldir nodded his understanding and moved to gather up Estel. “Come little one we have a task to do.”

“Shall I leave my walking stick outside?” the child inquired as Haldir scooped him up.

“No, I have a task for you to do, and you will need your stick. Do you remember how I showed you how to use it as a fighting stick?”

“Yeth,” the youngster nodded enthusiastically. “Am I gonna do some fightin’ Halli?” he asked hopefully.

“Well you never know, but right now I need you to do me a favor…I need you to stay in the kitchens and guard the ellith until I return for you, can you do that for me?”

“Oh yeth, I protect dem for you Halli.”

“This is a very important task Estel, I would not trust anyone but you to do it…you must not leave the ellith alone, will you give me your promise that you will stay in the kitchens and protect them until I come back for you?”

“I pwamice Halli, I won’ leave dem alone, not even for a minute!”

“I have your word then?”

The child placed his hand over his heart and surprised the great March Warden with the intensity of his oath. “I Estel Elwondion pwamice to guard da ellith until you return…an I won’ leave dem for nothin’, under da pain of da waff of Elwond, I PWAMICE!”

“Very well then…come, we must be quick, I will take you to the privy first, for you may have to guard them for a long time.”

“A’right Halli, I do kinda havta go.” Carrying Estel back up the stairs and into his bedroom Haldir caught Hírómë’s eye and nodded toward the terrace doors behind them. The veteran sentry needed no further instruction, he immediately moved to close and secure the doors. Setting the child down in front of the entrance to the bathing chamber Haldir motioned Estel inside to take care of his business and the questions continued.

“Halli how did you know I had to go?” Estel asked as he entered the room.

Laughing, Haldir replied, “I knew because you were starting to do the ‘privy dance’. When Rúmil was your size he used wiggle and shift back and forth on his feet when he had to relieve himself. He never wanted to stop doing whatever he was doing to accommodate his bladder, and I can tell you there were times when he waited too long and wet his breeches.”

“Wú wet his breeches?” the child asked incredulously.

“Aye, that he did, and on more than one occasion,” Haldir laughed. The gate sentry paced anxiously by the door and Haldir urged Estel to hurry. “Come along now, wash your hands so that we can go, the ellith are waiting for you.”

“I comin’ Halli…just need to fix my breeches.”

Exiting the bathing chamber Estel continued to fuss with the laces on his trousers, “Halli could you help me? Da laces won’ work, I don’ know how to make da bow.”

“Of course little one, here let me…you know I used to do this for Rúmil all the time, and then when Orophin came along…”

“Who is O’phin Halli?”

“Ah yes, you have not met him yet have you? Orophin is my other brother…my baby brother.”

“Oh…he da little brudder, like me.”

“Yes, only he is not so little any more, actually he is bigger than I am.”

“Bigger than you Halli?” Estel’s confused look stood testament to the fact that he did not understand how Orophin could be the ‘little’ brother and still be ‘bigger’ than Haldir.

“Yes…,” he said handing the boy his walking stick and exiting the room, “I will introduce the two of you later, and I will explain it to you then all right?”

“A’right Halli, if you say so.”

The three made their way thru the corridors passing the dining hall and making a left turn at the end of the hallway. The entrance to the kitchen sat at the end of the hall, and the wonderful scent of freshly cooked food floated on the air. Estel immediately recognized the aroma of blueberries pies and his mouth began to water at the thought.

Berach, Elrond’s fourth assistant, having examined Lady Nilya, was just exiting the kitchens as they approached. Concerned, that someone might be hurt, Hírómë inquired, “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine, the Lady was momentarily overcome by the heat, she is back to her usual cranky self,” he said smiling. “Just make sure you do not try to sample any of that wonderful supper she is preparing, or you may find yourselves tossed out of her domain on your ears as I was,” he said, popping a pilfered sesame cracker into his mouth.

The sentry smiled nodding his understanding and escorted Haldir and Estel into the kitchens. Several heads turned as they entered, and the lady herself moved forward to welcome the visitors.

“Estel what are you doing here my angel, and who is this that you have brought with you?” Knowing only too well the identity of Estel’s tirn, (guardian) the Lady pretended ignorance to allow the child his introductions.

“I came to protect you and da ellith Lady Nilya, and dis is my friend Hal-deer…but I call him Halli.”

“Ahh…to protect us you say?” she repeated looking to Haldir for an explanation.

“Yes Milady, Estel has graciously agreed to stay here – in the kitchens – and look out for you and the others while I meet with COMMANDER Glorfindel,” he said emphasizing Glorfindel’s title.

“Ahh-uh…I see,” she replied nodding her head, Nilya understood quite clearly that no one referred to Glorfindel as ‘Commander’ unless there was a military situation involved. “Yes Milady, and he has promised me that he will ‘not-let-you-out-of-his-sight’ and has brought his fighting stick with him to make sure that you are ‘well protected’.”

Haldir’s meaning was now clear, something was going on in the house, and they wanted Estel kept safe, under a watchful eye.

“Well then, come in and take your post Master Elrondion, now that you are here I am sure that the ladies and I will not have to worry over our safety.” Estel beamed, that Haldir and Lady Nilya had such confidence in him was indeed a compliment.

“Don’ you worry Lady Nilya, I take good care of you, I pwamice.” Smiling, Estel stood to post as he had seen the sentries do countless times. Seeing that his charge was in good hands Haldir bowed thanking Nilya for her vigilance with Estel, and as he and Hírómë made their way to the war room he looked back to see Estel marching back and forth inside the kitchen door with his fighting stick propped on his shoulder. “Look at him,” he said aloud, “…he has the makings of a guardian…he would make an excellent warden, pity he is here in Imladris. Yes, an excellent Warden indeed.”

~~~~~~~~

Activity in the healing chambers was frenzied; Elrond and his assistants rushed back into the room to find a somewhat harried Udalin pacing near the door, waiting. A quick glance at the apprentice nestron told Elrond that something else was going on, something more than their rushed arrival, and he was almost afraid to ask what it was. Golros swiftly moved to the side as the trio, their patient and Vindil entered the room, the look of shock and the brief glint of fear on the sentry’s face as he recognized the latest victim was obvious.

“Place him there, in that middle bed,” Elrond ordered hastily, turning, he addressed Udalin. “What has happened?”

“Milord I fear the sleeping potion we gave Andras is not working, he should be sleeping peacefully, yet he tosses and turns and his eyelids flutter, he appears to be fighting his way back to consciousness.”

“I see,” Elrond paused, trying to rub away the pressure of the headache that was building at the bridge of his nose. Finally composing his thoughts he continued, ”…when Berach returns have him fetch Elwaith to sit with Andras, he can monitor his condition and make another batch of his hydrating liquid, I fear we are going to need quite a bit of it.”

Udalin made to speak, but hesitated, and Elrond knew immediately that there was more to be told.

“Is there something else you wish to say?”

Udalin’s downcast eyes gave Elrond pause, “What is it Udalin? Speak up.”

“Milord, we are running out of the herb…there is perhaps enough for one more batch… after that…” his voice trailed off as he shook his head dejectedly.

Elrond placed a comforting hand on the apprentice’s shoulder, Udalin was a fine healer, with a natural talent for the healing arts, and quite capable of running the infirmary on his own. However, in Elrond’s presence his tendency toward a lack of confidence was a foible that needed to be addressed.

“After that Udalin we shall have to put our ingenuity to work for us; our riders should reach Rohan soon, there are shortcuts they can take, secret passages we have cut near the surface in the mountains, that will give them quick safe passage. However, we should prepare ourselves for the fact that if anything goes wrong it may be several days before we hear anything from them. I have faith in you young one, you have never let me down, but the question remains, do you have faith in yourself, are you up to this challenge?”

Gaining strength from Elrond’s conviction in his ability Udalin stood a little straighter.

“Aye…I can handle this Milord.”

“Good, then have Berach and Olmarth assist Elwaith, you will then join me and Sereth to tend Aphrod; his wounds are severe and I want to get him stabilized – before he awakes. Thankfully they got him home quickly and he has not had to endure the weeks of pain that Andras has been through.”

“Yes Milord.”

Almost as an afterthought Elrond added…

“And send for Orophin, I am loathe to wake him after standing to post all night, but he might be helpful with Andras.”

“Yes Milord,” Udalin repeated as he scurried away to do Elrond’s bidding. Taking a seat on the side of Aphrod’s bed the great elf lord stared down at the hapless warrior before him. The wounds on his hands and arms seemed to be spreading upward while the one on the side of his neck snaked out like some wicked branch entwining itself across his neck and down his chest.

“Is there any potion already made?” he called out.

“Yes milord there is a little still left from the last batch.”

“Bring it quickly; we must do what we can to arrest the spread of this evil.” As he examined the wounds certain things became more obvious.

”Humm, as it spreads the color appears to become lighter and lighter as if the strength of whatever this is wanes, see here?” he said to Sereth as he traced a finger along the wound from the point of contact to the ending edges. “Lighter in color and not so pronounced, and here, clearly a handprint, and here – the tip of a finger. It is almost as if it was…”

“Was what milord?”

“Toying with him,” came a voice from behind them.

Turning, Elrond and Sereth looked up to find Andras leaning weakly against the doorframe. Dark circles ringed his eyes, eyes wide with fright, his face drained of all color he looked ever-so-much like some ghostly apparition from their long ago past. Sereth moved to the young ostler’s side placing an arm around him to give him support as he tried to guide him gently back to his bed.

“Come, you should not be out of bed, you must rest Andras.”

“It was toying with him, can you not see that?” he said frantically “It enjoys inflicting pain!”

Anger flashed in the great elf lord’s eyes, for he knew Andras spoke truly. It was obvious that this ‘thing’ whatever it was had played with Aphrod like a cat with a mouse, knowing full well the degree of excruciating pain it could inflict.

Delirious, the elf’s agitated speech continued, “That is what it did to me you know, pain, it takes pleasure in it, feeds off it!” He looked then at Sereth, as if seeing him for the first time, “You must not let it get in here,” he said pleading, “you must keep it out…it will take all of us you know…it will…it will!”

Grasping Andras firmly about the waist Sereth placed his other hand over the elf’s forehead; concentrating harder than he ever had, he pushed the young one’s mind back down into a healing sleep where he would be free of his torment. Andras slumped against him unconscious, and the healer scooped him up and carried him back to his bed. Returning to the main room the nestron appeared weakened, and visibly shaken.

“Well done Sereth,” Elrond said as he rose to help the apprentice to a chair. “That must have taken a lot out of you, to push him down so quickly.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed the assistant’s face as he replied. “It was easier than I thought it would be milord.”

“How so?”

The apprentice wasn’t sure how to couch his answer, for he wasn’t at all sure what he’d just experienced. Sereth searched his mind for the right words to convey what had just happened.

“Speak up son,” Elrond urged, “how was it easier?”

“It was easier milord because…”

“Yes?” Elrond asked anxiously.

“…because he was not all there.”


Chapter 47 - The War Room

The War Room was filled to capacity as more than 30 warriors and residents circled the table and took various positions around the room. Glorfindel called the room to order and advised everyone that another attack had occurred. Asking Haldir and Elrohir to stand, he bid each of them to report on their encounter with the assailant. Elrohir was the first to speak, recounting their arrival at the outpost and subsequent search of the immediate area, the heir to Imladris detested what he knew he must say next.

“We searched the surrounding area as much as we dared. Aphrod’s condition was grave and we knew we needed to get back to safe territory as quickly as possible…however, Rilloth was able to find track…from what we saw we have reason to believe that the attacker is an elf.” His allegation made, astonished cries of ‘nay’ were heard around the room.

“An elf?”

“That is ridiculous!”

“That cannot be Elrohir, you must be mistaken.”

“No elf would do such a thing milord.”

“Quiet, quiet down!” Glorfindel’s booming voice ordered, and then a softer voice in the corner inquired, “Elrohir…could Rilloth have been mistaken?”

“No…unfortunately there was no mistaking the sign Erestor…it IS an elf.”

Concerned whispers floated around the room as more and more questions came to the fore.

“Glorfindel, if this is an elf how are we to protect ourselves? Why would an elf attack other elves? What now Glorfindel…are we all suspects?”

The commander raised his hand to silence the room, “No my friends, no one here is suspected of this. Whoever this is it is someone not known to us…Haldir if you would apprise them of what you found.”

As the march Warden began to speak all eyes in the room were trained on him. “On our way here we passed through the village of South Gundabad, it is a small settlement with which, I am sure, many of you are familiar.”

“Aye,” came a response from the back of the room, “we trade there often.”

“I am grieved to have to tell you that you will trade there no more, the entire village was decimated, every man, woman and child – all dead.” A ripple of shock rolled through the room, as stunned elves looked at each other in disbelief.

“At least seventeen humans were killed, and of course by now all of you are aware of the attack that brought us here to begin with; Andras was set upon at the edge of Fangorn Forest, and Eru only knows how many others have fallen prey to this beast between there and Gundabad.”

“Fangorn, Gundabad and now here,” Erestor mused as his eyes scanned the map in his hands.

“Yes, and although I cannot swear to it, I believe it trailed the Rohan trading party to the outskirts of Lórien - and I believe it trailed us as well. At some point it gave up stalking us, we were too well armed, and it passed on ahead of us…where it found easier prey. In any event, it is cunning, and stealthy, for although there were times when I thought I felt its presence, neither I nor anyone in our party saw any sign of it.”

“Rúmil…no sign of it at all?” Erestor questioned.

“No my lord, nothing, nothing and no one came near us.”

“Interesting…very interesting.”

~~~~~~

As the meeting continued, the patrol was gathering in the courtyard. While they waited for the last two members of their party to finish tacking their mounts, a wager had been thrown down by Braneth, as to who it would be who would actually rid them of this terror. Braneth was convinced that if this thing made its way to Imladris that either Glorfindel or Cilinwë would be responsible for its demise. Malrin, on the other hand, was equally convinced that either he or his March Warden would be the source that rid them once and for all of this un-godly terror. As the conversation wore on Malrin sat with a wistful look on his face, remembering a time not that long ago. “Haldir is tougher than you think,” he finally piped in, “a lot tougher.”

“How so,” Braneth inquired, “what makes him any more able than any other elf? Our Master of Swords is renowned across the four realms…nay, across Arda as the best swordsman alive.”

“Yes…,” agreed Imril, “and do not forget Lord Glorfindel, his trials with the balrog are legendary.”

“True my friends, all true, but I do not think even they have ever been put to the test the way Haldir was.”

“Tested? I admit that the duties of a warden are stressful, but one can hardly consider sentry duty as particularly …overtaxing,” Rilloth laughed.

“I agree…aside from the loneliness, sentry duty can not be considered as ‘difficult’, I know, for I have been doing it for a while now,” he said winking, reminding the others that they were talking to one of the senior-most wardens in any realm. “But that was not the test to which I referred, I was speaking of how he came to be in Lothlórien in the first place,” he said as he moved toward his horse.

“All right Malrin, you have us hooked like four squirming fish, you cannot just walk away now…come tell us of what you speak.”

Settling on the bench beside Rilloth the Lórien sentry began to give an account of the tale. “Well, it was a long time ago, but I still remember it as if it were yesterday. His family was traveling with five other elves from the Havens to Lothlórien. Just four days, as the crow flies, out from the Golden Wood they were attacked by orcs.”

“They were that close,” Rilloth asked, “was there no one that could help them?”

“Unfortunately no, the trees tried to warn them, but there was little time. They came upon them suddenly and Haldir’s father had only enough time to get the children up into the canopy. Haldir was young, and wanted to fight, but his father forbade it, and ordered him to stay in the trees to protect his little brothers. The orcs quickly separated those fighting; poor souls, they never stood a chance, there were simply too many of them. They fought with bow and sword and dagger, and then with their bare hands, to no avail. As the end of the battle neared, three of the foul beasts grabbed Haldir’s mother attempting to drag her away. She screamed for her husband, who by that time had been pushed back to a point where he could not reach her side. In all these many years Haldir has only spoken of that moment once – the moment when he watched his father kill his mother.”

Flashback:

Adarian was screaming, struggling, fighting to get away, but the orcs held her fast. As the others backed Heson further and further from her she glanced furtively at the treetops – steeling Haldir to the spot with a look that said both ‘Stay where you are!’ and ‘I love you’. In that next instant she made eye contact with her husband, and he read in her face what must be done…what had to be done. He could not leave her to their torment, and her eyes pleaded with him to end it quickly before their son saw too much. In his last move before he was overcome, he drew his bow and let fly the arrow that pierced her heart, ending his beloved’s life.

End Flashback.

“Haldir forced his brothers to turn away from the scene of the battle, telling them to close their eyes and not to look. At one point he covered Orophin’s mouth and whispered in his ear ‘not to make a sound’ that he would ‘keep them safe’, and he did. It was over quickly, if not mercifully, none was left alive. The attack came at night, so the lads were forced to stay hidden in the trees while the orcs set up camp beneath them. Rúmil once commented that it was the longest night he ever lived.”

“What happened next?” Braneth asked eagerly.

“In the early morning hours, just before sunrise, the orcs began to move off, searching for somewhere to conceal themselves from the daylight. The children sat there in the trees for hours after the orcs departed; then Haldir climbed down and salvaged what he could in the way of supplies. There was not much left, but he did manage to find his father’s map case, a blanket, and a water bag that the orcs had missed. He did what he could for the dead, what was left of them, and he placed his Naneth and Adar side by side and covered them with willow branches and leaves from the forest floor; he allowed his brothers to come down only for a moment to say goodbye and then back up into the trees they went. He made a makeshift sling from the blanket, put Orophin in it, and tied it to his back. Then carefully and as quietly as he could he led Rúmil through the treetops following their father’s map.”

“Sweet Eru,” said Panír “what an awful experience for children to have to endure.”

“Aye…,” Malrin continued, “it was rough going, and they probably would have done better on the ground, but Haldir said he did not want to chance it, that they might run into orcs or other foul beasts, and with only his dagger…well, he refused to put his brother’s lives in danger. He would secret the little ones in the treetops and then climb down and forage for food, berries mostly. They came upon a stream once, but Haldir would not fish, he told his brothers that they could not chance the smoke from a cooking fire calling attention to their whereabouts – he was smart and savvy even then. Instead he bathed them and filled the water bag and continued to look for fruit trees.”

“How awful,” Imril interjected shaking his head as Malrin continued…

“It took them longer than expected to get there, nine days actually…he probably could have done it in five were he alone, but the little ones’ legs were decidedly shorter than an adult’s, and they tired easily. Orophin often tells the story of his first glimpse of the Golden Woods, he remembered Haldir smiling and saying that they ‘had made it’, that ‘they would be fine now’, and remembering the first time he saw one of the Galadhrim silently slip down from the trees, he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.”

“What a harrowing experience,” Panír added, “thank the Valar they made it safely.”

“Yes, one minute they were alone in the world and the next they were surrounded by our people. Although I have to say, there were some tense moments there for a while…as Haldir told what happened to them, one of the sentries (a foolish youngling), tried to take the baby from him and he refused to allow it.”

“Now that sounds more like our Haldir,” Imril said laughing.

“Aye,” Malrin replied, “the fledgling border guard was very young, and mistakenly thought that Haldir would be easily intimidated and made to ‘take’ Orophin. Imagine his surprise when Haldir wheeled on him and pulled the sentry’s own blade from his belt, settling it right under his chin. Then, grabbing his own dagger from his boot, the youngster stood there, arms outstretched to the side, with a blade in each hand and made the pronouncement that ‘no one would be separating his brother from him without a fight’.”

“Even little Rúmil got in on it…he picked up a good sized rock and reared back to throw it. He told the sentry that he would ‘bash him a good one if he touched HIS Halli'. Well, poor baby Phin thought for sure that they would be thrown out of the Lady’s woods on their ears with nowhere to go, and immediately started crying, an issue with which young Haldir was not at all pleased.”

“I can imagine,” Braneth said jokingly, “he does like things to be orderly…and a wailing babe does not exactly fit into that picture.”

Malrin allowed the laughter to settle down a bit before he continued with the story…

“Apparently he had spent the last three miles of their journey softly singing to the little one telling him about all the wonderful things he would see, and the nice people he would meet once they got to Lothlórien – doing whatever he could to sooth and reassure him. The poor child had spent their entire journey sobbing almost non-stop for their parents. Haldir had only just found a way to quiet him and now here were the guardians dropping out of the trees, trying to take him from his brother and scaring the little one half to death in the process. He was not a happy little traveler; but thankfully calmer heads prevailed and as you can see all turned out well in the end.”

“Whatever happened to that sentry?” Braneth asked, “Is he still in Lothlórien? Haldir has never impressed me as one to forget that kind of a slight…they are probably mortal enemies by now.”

“On the contrary, I would say that he and Haldir are rather good friends.”

The look of shock that registered on Braneth’s face was quite telling. “After that kind of a beginning they became friends?”

“Oh yes.”

“Who is this magical creature that can turn the irate March Warden from foe to friend? For I must surely meet someone with that kind of magical power.”

“You already have…”

“Already have? Who…?”

“Me.”

“Surely you jest?”

“No, t'was I – young and foolish, trying to impress my elders; it was the first, and I hasten to say, the ONLY time I have ever gone up against Haldir; I may not be the smartest elf in Arda, but I am a fast study, and that was one lesson I learned very quickly.” He stopped then, gathering his thoughts, measuring how much more to say.

“Yes my friends, he is considerably tougher than one might think. From that time to this he has spent his life protecting those he loves - never wager against him my friend for you will surely lose your purse. He has sworn to put the blade to this “thing” that has brought such harm to the firstborn. In this, I would not wish to be the one who stood between him and the fulfilling of that oath.”

Just as Malrin was finishing with his story, Geleph and Golros emerged from the stables with their mounts. Looking at all the serious faces, Golros asked, “What did we miss?”

“We will tell you later in the Hall of Fire,” Braneth answered, “provided we make it back safely, everyone mount up. Open the gates!” As Anor began the descent to its resting place on the western rim of the valley, the patrol rode out to bring their people home.

~~~~~~

Inside the house the meeting continued with Glorfindel giving his final warnings. “So, as you have heard, this thing has the ability to somehow conceal itself. Elrohir and the others rode down upon it only moments after it attacked Aphrod – and they found no one.”

“The same is true of the attack on Andras,” Haldir added, ”Malrin was at his side within minutes of the onslaught and yet he saw nothing.”

“We must be doubly careful,” Glorfindel continued, “take no chances, do not allow any elf that you do not know to approach you, and whatever you do, if confronted by this thing…do not engage it alone.”

“What?” the cry went up around the room, “Glorfindel you cannot be serious, after what this thing has done?”

But the balrog slayer was insistent, “Draw your weapons and protect yourselves - yes, but I repeat, do not challenge it, call for help. Considering the number of casualties at Gundabad, our only means of defeating this thing may lie in our armor and the strength of our numbers. From what we know so far it does not use a weapon, it does not need to; its touch is lethal.”

The commander now looked pointedly at Elrohir as he spoke, “I do not want anyone trying to be a hero,” and then at Haldir, “nor do I want to hear of any personal exploits that amount to the taking of revenge. Our strength lies in our ability to communicate, and our willingness to cooperate with each other – to do whatever is necessary to see this blight upon our lives removed – permanently. For some of you this will mean longer shifts on duty, others will be asked to fill in doing work they have never done before.” “Remember,” he said, “we are not without skill as warriors, those skills have brought us through millennia after millennia, carried us past enemies far worse than this one, and they will again.

Nodding heads and a chorus of ‘Aye’ went up around the room.

“So, you all know your assignments, return to your posts, stay alert, and remember, call for help – do not try to end this on your own.” He quickly checked the faces of everyone in the room to make sure they were all in agreement. “Very well then…you are dismissed. Elrohir, Haldir…a word please. Cilinwë, and you too Erestor, if you please.”

The room cleared and as the last warrior closed the door behind him Glorfindel turned to Erestor.

“You had a thought counselor?”

“You know me too well commander; I see I must apply more practice to schooling my features if I wish to keep anything closeted from you.”

Glorfindel smiled coyly. “It will take more than practice at this point seron vell (beloved). Tell us.”

Erestor spread open the map and used it to illustrate his point. “I find it ‘curious’, he said, “that there has been no indication that this ‘elf’ attacked anyone in Rohan.”

“Why curious Erestor?”

“First because there are so many potential victims – most of their warriors would have been out on the Riddermark with the other éoreds, yet the first attack that we know of was Andras…here at the edge of Fangorn.”

“Haldir believes, and I think rightly so, that this attacker trailed them to Lórien, here…,” he said pointing, ”and then again when they set out for Imladris.” “It then moved ahead of them and attacked Gundabad, here, and now it has attacked on our southern outpost, here…”

“What do you find curious about that counselor?”

“It is obvious to me that it did not come from Rohan, otherwise you would have heard stories of it from your trading party. No, it attacked here at Fangorn, that was probably its first attempt,” he said as he studied the map and contemplated other scenarios. “Since, as logical beings, we know that nothing just ‘springs up’ out of thin air, it is reasonable to assume that this thing had some help. And the only place that lies between Rohan and the edge of Fangorn is…”

The revelation hit them almost in tandem, like a slap in the face, and they responded in one voice…

“Isengard!”


Chapter 48 - The Enemy

As dusk began to settle over the quiet valley, seven stalwart elves rode out from Imladris on a mission to bring their comrades home, while high in the trees the biggest threat that Imladris had seen in millennia watched and waited. The sudden frenetic activity in the house had drawn it in closer, closer than was probably safe to maintain anonymity; but it had the taste now, and it craved more.

“The essence of these beings is stronger than that of the others, purer, if that makes any sense. Except for the small ones…they were pure, the taste of them was strong, but it did not last very long. The others, the larger ones, tasted somehow old, used up, like the one in the barn – it took so many to gain any strength. But here, in this place the taste is strong; it is more difficult trying to single them out, but if I could find another stray - the reward will be great. The essence of these beings does not mingle together like the others, it keeps itself apart, separate; I have only small pieces of it now…but both of the chosen ones are here – if I could but find them. No matter, it is of no consequence, if not them, then one of their pack will do. There does not seem to be any of the smaller variety, pity, I would have enjoyed another one of those.”

Estel marched ably back and forth just inside the kitchen door. He had been at it for almost an hour, and Lady Nilya was certain that he would start to lose steam any moment now. She was wrong. The little one had made a promise, given his word, and if there was one thing Estel believed in, it was keeping your promises. His brothers had learned that lesson the hard way, promising and then disappearing when a pretty face or the assurance of spilled orc blood presented itself. It had only taken one very painful (for them), full out crying marathon to divest them of that bit of business. They now knew, with Estel there was no such thing as a promise that could not be kept. They considered themselves adults, but the inconsolable wail of this child who loved them so much, forced them to truly grow up. He had to come first, above all other things, all flights of fancy, all inclinations towards selfishness, he had to come first. Their father warned them, Erestor warned them, and they had not taken that warning to heart. Estel however, taught them a lesson they would not soon forget.

Flashback:

The child had only been in Imladris for two months and so far his transition from life in the wilderness with his parents, to life in Imladris had gone surprisingly smoothly. There had been some occurrences of intermittent crying, but those usually happened whenever Glorfindel’s blond hair reminded the boy of his mother, and then he would spend the best portion of the next hour sobbing, asking “where mama?” These events could, however, be shortened considerably if he was left in the company of the ‘two people’, as he was wont to call the twins. The child was fascinated with their likeness and it was almost always guaranteed to distract him from whatever course of action he was taking. Estel was enthralled with the twins, preferring even to sleep with one of them than to sleep in his own bed, and there were many nights when he toddled back and forth between their two rooms until one or the other of them was forced to get up and move in with his brother just so they could claim sleep. Estel loved his brothers, and they loved him, unfortunately they were at a time in their lives when they could be distracted by a pretty face. And so it came to pass that on the morning when their father was preparing for a diplomatic mission to visit Thengel, the twins were to be left in charge of Estel.

Erestor, as Elrond’s chief counselor, was accompanying the great elf lord to Rohan, and his last words before he kissed Estel good-bye were “Do not make promises to him that you do not intend to keep…he is very smart and he will not let you cheat him of a promise.” Unfortunately the twins were too busy shooing the counselor out the door, anticipating their unbridled control of the house, to take Erestor seriously. “He is only two Erestor…how hard can it be?” Their words would come back to haunt them almost before the seneschal cleared the gate.

Waving bye-bye to his new father and his beloved Westor, Estel was bouncing in his brother’s arms trying to get down. Placing the independent little tyke on the ground the child said two words “Find bunny” and sprinted towards the garden as fast as his little legs would carry him. Once there he reiterated his intentions “Find bunny!” and he and his brothers were on the hunt. The twins sat back lolling under a gnarled oak tree and allowed Estel to search the high grass picking the flowers as he went. Every few minutes they would hear the same two words “Find bunny!” Eventually Estel grew tired of hunting alone and made his way back to the oak tree to enlist the help of the two-people. “Roh find bunny,” he said as he tugged on his brother’s leggings. “Dan bunny!” he said pointing to the grass “Find bunny?”

“All right little one we will help you find the bunny,” Elrohir said as he rose from the shade of the tree pulling Elladan to his feet as well. “You look over there and we will look over here all right?”

“Good bunny! Find bunny!” the child said giggling. As the three searched the grass their hunt was interrupted by two more infamous trackers…Imladris’ most notorious husband hunters Menwen, and her best friend Perwaen. Always up for a little game of chase and tickle, the twins allowed themselves to be distracted from their rabbit hunting by the two maidens and Estel was not at all pleased. Pulling on his brother’s boot top Estel pointed back to the garden “Find bunny.”

“Just a minute Estel, Lady Perwaen has something she wants to tell me,” said Elladan as he tickled the blushing maiden. Not to be dissuaded Estel moved to his other brother, tugging now on his boots.

“Find bunny?” he asked.

“Later Estel…we will find the bunny later,” Elrohir answered as he drew Menwen into his embrace.

“Later?” the child questioned.

“Yes, later little one.” Estel did not move, instead he stood there with his head cocked to the side staring at Menwen as she seemed to be trying to wipe something that she had on her mouth off onto Elrohir’s face. ‘Curious,’ Estel thought, ‘why does she not use that hankie thing?’ Several more minutes of this passed and Estel tried again to get his brother’s attention. Once more tugging on Elladan’s boot tops he pointed to the garden and made his case, “Find bunny.”

Just barely coming up for air, Elladan said “Later little one, I will find the bunny later – I promise.”

“Pwamice?”

“Yes I promise, later, now run and play.”

Estel moved away for all of two minutes, then returned with “Later now” falling from his lips repeatedly.

“Later now! Later now! Later now! Later now!” Elladan, caught up in his romantic moment, responded before he thought, and spoke snappishly at the child. “That is enough Estel, stop it!”

Big elf open mouth, insert foot.

First came the scrunched-up little face, then the open-mouthed silent cry of distress, and then…then he let them have it. Full blast. If there had been such a thing as an air-raid alarm in Middle Earth, this child could have qualified. He screamed, he yelled, he cried big fat tears and once the “top of his lungs” had been reached, he must have borrowed someone else’s because he only got louder. He bounced up and down, he stomped the ground and he screamed until he turned red; that accomplished, he continued until he started to turn blue, and then he screamed even more.

Elrohir jumped up from his lounging position yelling at his twin; “What did you do to him?” he said as he moved to pick up the child.

“Nothing, I swear! I merely told him to stop it.”

“Well you must have done something more than that,” Elrohir admonished, “…for he was not crying before, and now he wails as if you struck him…you did not strike him did you?”

“Do not be ridiculous; of course I did not strike him I would never do such a thing to a child, any child…and certainly not to our brother. I did raise my voice a bit.”

“Ah ha! That is it then…you yelled at him!” he said as he bounced the crying child in his arms, but Estel continued to scream; tears streaming down his face, nose running, and he would not hold still. He squirmed, bounced, and jerked his little body up and down as if he was being tortured, all the while his face turning more and more blue.

“I did not yell…I might have been a bit terse,” Elladan replied, a look of guilt and worry now encompassing his face.

“With you that means you yelled. There, there, Estel…do not cry love, bad old Elladan did not mean it.”

Estel stopped crying only long enough to add his own admonishment to the equation; pointing one tiny little snotty finger at Elladan he uttered two words and then went right back to crying…”Bad Dan!”

“I did not mean to upset him…but he was whining. Is he supposed to turn that color? I do not like the look of that Roh…I think there might be something wrong with him.”

“The only thing wrong with him is that he has two jackasses for brothers,” Perwaen interjected, “here, give him to me.” Taking the child from his arms she lovingly cradled him against her breast and gently cooed to him, as Elladan could only look on enviously. “Tis all right my darling…Elladan is going to find your bunny right now…right Elladan?” The look she gave him could have shredded an orc at fifty paces.

“Yes of course,” he said hastily. “See Estel I am looking for the bunny right now.”

“And Elrohir is going to help him, will you not Elrohir?” her companion added as she stood huffily, placing her hands on her hips.

“Yes, yes, of course…see Estel, I am looking…here bunny bunny.”

Estel raised his head long enough to verify that the ‘two-people’ were searching; satisfied that the hunt was on in earnest he sniffled and zup-supped and halted his screaming only enough for Menwen to wipe his nose on the aforementioned hankie. “There now,” she said as the two elleth cooed and fussed over him, “that is better, is it not?” Estel refused to comment on whether it was or it wasn’t, and maintained a watchful eye on his brothers as they continued the search; all the while bottom lip quivering – garnering even more sympathy from the ellith.

“Come Estel let us go into the kitchen and get some apple nectar…you like nectar do you not?” the elleth asked. Still the child made no commitment one way or the other. As they made their way into the house he peeked around Perwaen’s shoulder and to his displeasure found that his brothers were perhaps not being as ‘thorough’ in their hunt as they could have been. The child pointed at them and immediately began squirming in Perwaen’s arms, bouncing up and down as if to hurl himself to the ground and the shrieking began again. Realizing that their deception had been discovered the two raised their hands trying to ward off the onslaught of tears they knew was coming; waving frantically they attempted to convince their brother that they were indeed searching with purpose.

“No…no…no, do not cry again,” Elladan pleaded. “See, see I am looking, I am looking!”

“Please Estel do not cry, we are looking little one, we are looking - sincerely…we are!”

As Perwaen and Menwen passed through the doorway into the house the elleth looked back over her shoulder and gave the twins something to think about. “I suggest that you do a thorough search, the way the two of you have distressed this child is unconscionable, so unless you come up with a rabbit you need not seek us out to keep you company this eve.” That said, she and Menwen disappeared into the house carrying Estel, and the little one gave his brothers one last parting shot…”No look…Find!”

End Flashback

From that day to this the twins never made another promise to Estel that they were not fully committed to keeping; and although Nilya could see that the boy was tiring himself out, she also realized that her hope that he would stop and rest was slipping further and further away. She tried to purloin him away from the door by offering him a snack, a treat or a drink of nectar; but Estel refused her offer, his reasoning – “A good sen-try does not eat on duty,” an on he marched. A promise is a promise – he would make the March Warden proud.


Chapter 49 - Thranduil's Gift

The realm of the woodland king was not far from Imladris, only a few days travel across the Misty Mountains and then one long, severely hard ride through spider infested forest. Or, in times of emergency, (though they were loathe to go underground) through the secret passages the elves had carved through the hills. One of the Horse Lords could make it there in half the time of the average human, and an elf on a good mount in half of that. You had to be quick when traveling through Mirkwood; the spiders, though not particularly bold or overly aggressive in small numbers, would take any advantage presented to them to make luncheon of a lingering traveler. So it was with great haste that the emissaries from Imladris made their way to the underground fortress of King Thranduil.

The Elven King and his chief advisor, an old and wizened elf as ancient as the dawn, listened intently as the representatives from Imladris told him of the attack on the ostler’s son and the decimation of the village in the south. As they related the story, a strange glint of recognition shown in the old elf’s eyes, and it accompanied the look of fear on his face. Thranduil was quick to note it, and bid the elf to speak.

“There is a legend…,” he began, “…more a myth than anything else, of a being with gold-flecked eyes whose touch brought with it death.” “The story tells of the guise in which this would-be conqueror will come. It has ever been nothing more than a children’s fairytale, a tale of spirits and witchcraft to be told around the campfire, and as I recall – there is a puzzle…a riddle of sorts, which supposedly provides the answers to how this creature can be defeated.”

“The tale of this beast is held in a book of magic spells…very rare,” he mused, “very rare.” “Fortunately my liege, we are in possession of one of only two copies in existence… unfortunately, to my knowledge there has never been anyone who has been able to solve the riddle.”

The king sat silently for a moment or two, the decision was an easy one; he would not sit idly by and allow his brethren in Imladris and Lothlórien to suffer at the hands of this creature. However, he did not wish to appear too ‘compliant’, after all, one did have one’s reputation to consider, and a king who appeared too eager to relinquish his assets to others set a dangerous precedent for future negotiations.

“Bring the book to me, we will examine it and see if there is any merit to its claims.”

The counselor bowed and backed quickly out of the room saying, “At once my liege.”

While he waited, Thranduil paced slowly around the room feigning oblivion to the two Imladrian elves who were still on their knees in front of his throne. The Elven king was accustomed to a certain ‘protocol’, and demanded it from all who came before him. Unlike the other realms, Thranduil’s subjects took to a knee when their king entered a room. The eye-to-eye contact that was allowed in Lothlórien and the outright informality of Imladris was not his cup of tea. No, to the contrary, he felt that a king must be respected, and he saw no reason to exclude these Noldos from that which he expected from his own people. ‘Besides,’ he thought ‘…it will do them good to experience how a real kingdom is run’.

Twenty minutes later the much-harried advisor returned to the throne room covered in dust and sweating profusely. Quickly taking a knee, he made his apologies, “I beg pardon my liege for taking so long, but the book was difficult to locate, it was secreted deep in the archives.”

Thranduil positioned himself in an elaborately carved oak chair beside a nearby table. Gesturing at the center of the board (table), he indicated where he wanted the book placed, and the advisor rushed to make it so.

“Show us,” he ordered, employing the royal ‘us.’

The old elf moved quickly to position the book in front of his king. Turning to the appropriate page he said, “Here it is my lord, the tale of the beast, and the riddle that tells how to destroy it. The riddle is written in a language that is unknown to me, and as far as I know there is no one who has ever been able to decipher it, let alone solve it,” he said sarcastically as he glanced over his shoulder at the still kneeling Noldos.

The elf’s tone, though directed at the Imladrians, was distasteful to the king. Thranduil believed in setting the example by which his people lived, and if anyone was going to be churlish towards these elves it would be him, and he made a mental note to put the advisor in his place at the first opportunity. The king examined the pages thoroughly, there were no words that seemed familiar to him, and he too was unable to translate the text. Looking up from the book, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers drawing the attention of the kneeling elves. Motioning them forward he waited until they reached the side of the table and then he posed his question.

“Tell us…does the Lord Erestor, formerly of Lindon, still reside at Imladris?”

The two couriers knew that Thranduil was well aware that Erestor was Lord Elrond’s Seneschal, and that there was no way that he would live anywhere else, but they answered the king’s question nonetheless.

“Yes, your majesty, Lord Erestor still abides at the Last Homely House.”

“Very well then…you will take this book to him; Lord Erestor has always impressed me as an elf of great intellect, if there is anyone on Arda who can decipher this text it will be him.” The king’s statement was pointed, designed to take his advisor down a peg or two, and he eyed the elf deftly, watching as he lowered his head, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

“As you will Your Majesty.”

“Speak to the sentry outside the door, he will show you where you may replenish your supplies for the trail and he will guide you back to the surface."

"Thank you King Thranduil, my Lord Elrond wishes to convey that he is deeply in your debt, if there is ever anything that you need…”

The king waved off the completion of the sentence, “You may tell him no debt is owed, our only debt is to our citizens. We owe them safety; I will take his warning about the beast to heart and make sure that my warriors are alerted…that my people are safe. Thanks to Elrond’s watchfulness I am now better able to serve my realm. The two of you risked your own safety to ride here to warn us of this threat, and for that I am grateful,” he said as he tipped his head in acknowledgement of their sacrifice. “Go now, retrieve your supplies and head back to the trail, Elrond no doubt awaits your return.”

The emissaries bowed once more to the great Elven king and backed out towards the door. As they turned to leave, the counselor also bowed and made to leave the throne room. His exit was almost complete when he was unceremoniously stopped in his tracks by the voice of his king. Thranduil’s eye held a roguish glint as he said. “Not so quickly Counselor…a word if you please.”


Chapter 50 - Revelations

Elrond stood with a look of sheer bewilderment on his face, “What are you talking about Sereth? What do you mean he was not ‘all’ there?”

“His consciousness milord…his consciousness, it was as if there were pieces of it missing, I have never experienced anything like that in all my life. There were…gaps, literal holes in his essence just as if someone had sliced them away with a blade.”

Elrond immediately turned to examine Aphrod. Positioning himself on the side of the bed he covered the sentry’s eyes with his hand and probed his mind searching for his conscious self. Moments later he withdrew his hand struggling to compose himself before he spoke to Sereth.

“Do you see what I mean? I did not know that such a thing was possible milord, have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“No my friend, this witchcraft is new even to me, I have never seen ‘part’ of the soul leave the body less the rest followed suit.”

“Is he going to fade milord?” Sereth asked shakily. Elrond placed a calming hand on the elf’s shoulder as he answered, “We will do all in our power to see that that does not happen, we will use our own strength to anchor him here if necessary, but we will not let him fade. For now I think it best if we keep Andras heavily sedated, he has struggled with this longer than Aphrod, and he appears to be weakening. We will use as much sedative as his system can withstand. I will mix the potions myself, meanwhile get Aphrod undressed and bathed, Berach will return with Elwaith and Orophin shortly, we have much work to do before we can count this battle won.”

Berach had not yet returned to the healing wing from his kitchen call on Lady Nilya, and Udalin had decided not to wait. Instead, he chose to go and retrieve Orophin and Elwaith himself. As Orophin hurriedly followed Udalin down the long corridor towards the healing wing, he was given the news that his friend Andras was doing poorly, and it gave him great pause. They had come such a long way, always with the hope and fervent belief that Lord Elrond would be able to set things right and that Andras would be restored to health. To be told now, that to the contrary, the young elf seemed to be getting worse gave Orophin a sinking feeling in his heart.

“We must stop and retrieve Elwaith; Lord Elrond has requested his attendance as well. He apologizes that you have not really had time to rest, but things are not going well and he needs everyone available to help out.”

“I understand Udalin, there is no need to apologize, we must all do what we can.”

Stopping outside Elwaith’s door Udalin knocked firmly. At first, there was no response, but on the second knock, the healer’s drowsy sounding voice was heard.

“One moment…I am coming.” Hastily pulling on his dressing gown Elwaith crossed the room and opened the door. Upon seeing Udalin’s face on the other side of the portal, his first reaction was not exactly a positive one. However, the frown that appeared was quickly replaced with a gentle smile when he realized that the abrasive-tongued healer was accompanied by Orophin. “Phin!” he said cheerfully, and then more sedately “Udalin.” The change of tone in Elwaith’s voice did not go unnoticed, and Udalin drew himself up into a more defensive and commanding posture.

“Elwaith…the patient Andras has taken a turn for the worse, and our Lord Elrond requests your attendance in the healing wing,” he said dryly, deliberately omitting the elf’s title.

“Worse?” Elwaith questioned. “What has happened?” he queried as he turned and hurriedly reached for his leggings.

“He is resisting the sedatives that we have administered. He struggles back towards wakefulness – with wakefulness will come the pain, and we are running dangerously short of the new herb you found. Lord Elrond has sent riders to Rohan to try and secure more, but it may be several days before they return. We are going to have to come up with other ways and other potions to keep our two patients comfortable while we try to heal them.”

“Two patients?” Elwaith asked incredulously, “There is another patient?”

”Oh yes…that is right…you do not know,” he said sarcastically, “while you were ‘resting’, another warrior was attacked.”

The implication in Udalin’s statement was that Elwaith had somehow been shirking his duties, and the Lórien nestron took immediate offense. However, before he could make comment on Udalin’s ill-advised words, a calmer head prevailed, and Orophin spoke in Elwaith’s defense and the well-respected counselor put matters in perspective straight away.

“When we parted earlier, Master Elwaith, after two days of non-stop bedside vigil, was still in the infirmary with his charge. There has hardly been sufficient time twixt then and now to bathe, let alone rest Udalin,” the counselor chastised. “And knowing you as I do Elwaith, I am sure that someone had to practically pry you out of the healing wing. Who was it that showed you to your rooms?”

“It was Lord Erestor.”

“Ahh…as I suspected…and I am sure he gave you little latitude for argument in regard to taking care of yourself so that you could take care of your patient.”

“None at all,” Elwaith responded triumphantly, glaring at Udalin as he continued to dress.

“Yes…Lord Erestor is one for being obeyed. One does not stand in the House of Elrond and ignore the words of his Seneschal…you did the wise thing Elwaith, anything else would have been foolish… and rude.” Orophin’s very pointed comment, struck its mark. The counselor had already heard from others of Udalin’s oft time brusque manner with those over whom he had control, and he had no intention of standing quietly by while Udalin took aim at residents from Lórien.

Orophin had gained a considerable measure of respect and admiration with his people, and was held in high esteem throughout the four realms as a counselor who seldom, if ever, ‘told’ you what to do. Instead, his strength was in clarifying the facts, showing you your options, and allowing you the opportunity to find the best path for your life without being prodded or forced. Indeed, even the Lord Celeborn had availed himself of Orophin’s considerable talents, proving once again, that it mattered not how old or experienced you were; if there was something that weighed heavily on your heart Orophin could help put it right. He’d lived a long and sometimes eventful life, and his gently told stories of life’s up’s and down’s were a welcome contrast and respite from the “do as I say” edicts of other counselors; especially when dealing with emotionally distressed elves who believed that they were the only ones who’d ever experienced their particular dilemma.

Orophin had turned out to be an elf of many talents, he counseled others, took the occasional turn on the watches with his brothers, and was said to be one of the finest bakers in the realm. He’d tried his hand, and succeeded at many occupations but the one closest to his heart was this one. He was very good at getting you to understand that no matter what your trials, you were not alone. He was also quite expert at ferreting out all the underlying issues that caused people to do the things they did, all the skeletons that one did not want others to see. That said, it was also true that the good counselor was one who could not abide a bully, or anyone who sought to take advantage of another who was weaker or emotionally fragile, and it was this side of his personality that was now turned out onto Udalin.

“So Udalin,” he continued, as he emphasized Waith’s title, “I hope that you are not suggesting that Master Elwaith should have defied Lord Erestor’s instructions?” “You are not, are you?”

“Oh no Master Orophin,” he responded quickly not wishing to offend,”…of course not, I was just saying…,” but the counselor cut him off.

“Good! For it would be very bad form indeed to disregard the Seneschal, I know that I personally would call into question the judgment of anyone who tried…as I am sure would Lord Elrond.” The thinly veiled threat hit its mark, and the nestron was at a loss as to what to say in reply.

“The Lord Elrond has always been a gracious host,” continued Orophin, “…and his Seneschal is a reflection of that graciousness; he would not be pleased to know that guests in his home were treated in a negative or disrespectful manner.”

The healer was completely taken aback. Outside of the scolding he’d taken earlier in the week at the hands of Erestor, no one had ever taken him to task over his manners, or lack thereof, and he was not sure how to respond. Not even Elrond, who was more inclined to let his apprentices work things out on their own, had ever spoken to him in such fashion. The feisty healer was at once defensive, and mentally weighed the odds as he thought to make a stand with the visiting counselor. However, seeing the glint in Orophin’s eyes, a little voice in his head assured him of one thing; that below that calm façade beat the heart of a warrior, one who was quite capable of shedding that composed exterior if the need arose. So, he thought better of responding, choosing instead to keep silent and accept what the counselor had to say without further comment.

Orophin, as gentle as he was, was an impressive figure of an elf. A good head taller than the average male with strong broad shoulders, a deep baritone voice, and piercing blue eyes; the counselor presented a most imposing presence. Arguments had been known to come to a complete halt simply because he rose from his seat; an occurrence which both Haldir and Rúmil found quite amusing, as, of the three of them, Orophin was the one least likely to raise a hand to another person. But that aside, in heated situations the good counselor always stood with his brothers against any foe, as he stood now with Elwaith.

“I did not mean to imply that Master Elwaith was…shirking his responsibilities, I only meant…”

But Orophin was having none of it and cut him off, refusing to allow him to continue with the lie on his lips.

“Of course you did,” he said calmly, “that’s exactly what you meant, but no offense was taken….am I correct Elwaith?” he asked pensively.

The Lórien nestron thought quickly and decided it was not worth arguing about, besides Orophin had put Udalin in his place and that was enough…at least for now.

“None taken.”

“Good, then we can put this misunderstanding aside where it belongs and move ahead to the tasks at hand – healing Andras and Aphrod.” With Elwaith now dressed, Orophin motioned towards the door, “Shall we?”

As the healers filed out in front of him Orophin surreptitiously grasped Udalin’s arm, momentarily halting him in his tracks, quietly he whispered, “I would like to schedule some time with you later this evening if you are free.” Surprised at the unexpected request Udalin nodded quickly answering, “Of course, will after dinner in the Hall be all right?”

“That will be fine; Lord Elrond’s Hall of Fire always leaves me relaxed, there are some issues we should talk about.”
~~~~~~~

Haldir hurried through the corridors of the Last Homely House heading for the kitchen. His charge Estel was no doubt wondering to where he had gotten. The meeting itself hadn’t taken that long, but the revelations after the meeting had not only taken everyone by surprise, but took extra time. 'Why hadn’t he seen it? Why hadn’t he pieced together the information himself?' he thought.

“I have been too distracted of late,” he said aloud. “I was so worried about Andras I did not stop to think from where the threat could have come. And now there has been another attack, and the little one to protect. I must keep alert; I must not allow my reflexes and instincts to wane simply because I am no longer in the Wood.” As he turned the corner that led to the kitchen, he at first did not see Estel, but as he got closer the boy crossed in front of the door again.

“Still on duty,” Haldir mused, “he has been at this for over an hour, poor little thing must be exhausted.”

Making his turn at the right side of the kitchen door Estel caught sight of Haldir for the first time. The child’s face brightened as he marked the approach of the tall Galadhel. As Haldir came closer Estel almost broke formation, but at the last second remembered what he’d seen the grown-up sentries do. With seemingly practiced accuracy he halted in the center of the doorway, feet spread apart in a defensive stance, and brought his walking stick to bear across his chest saying “Halt, who goes dere?”

It was all Haldir could do to keep from breaking out into full-blown laughter. 'So tiny and so determined,' he thought, but rather than embarrass the child he went along with the protocol. “It is I, Haldir O’Lórien, come to relieve you sentry Estel.”

“A’vance an be reco...recog..” thinking hard he could not come up with the correct word, so he changed tactics, “A’vance an be seen.” The tall March Warden followed instructions and presented himself to the little sentry. Squatting in front of the child so that they could make eye-to-eye contact Haldir gave the proper response.

“Stand at rest Estel Elrondion, you are relieved of duty.”

The child heaved a sigh of relief, grinned a big grin and launched himself into Haldir’s arms. The March Warden closed his eyes as he enveloped Estel in a warm hug. ‘What a wonderful child,’ he thought, then stood with the little one in his arms and nodded his thanks to the kitchen staff as he turned to leave with the boy. The Warden listened carefully as Estel delivered a litany of information about his time on duty.

“I did just wha’ you said Halli, I stood to post just like da warriors, and I kept da ellith safe…even when Lady Nilya tried to make me take biscuits and buttermilk – I dinna do it. I just kept right on doin’ my task, just like I pwamiced – even when I got tired I just kept goin’. An ya know wha’ Halli?”

“What?”

“She even tried to give me honey cakes.”

“No!” the Warden said feigning astonishment.

“Yeth – honey cakes,” the boy said emphatically. He then looked back and forth over each shoulder, as though he were looking for spies and in a voice just above a whisper told Haldir, “I t’ink she was tryin’ to test me,” he said nodding, “but it dinna work Halli, I just kept on doin’ my task.”

“You did an excellent job little one, I am very proud of you. Perhaps one day when you are grown you will come to my home in Lothlórien and work with me guarding the Golden Wood.”

Estel could not imagine being grown, but still thought about this for a second and then replied, “It would be a pleasure to work wit you in da wood Halli, but I do not t’ink I could leave my Ada…or my brudders, and wha would Westor do wit out me?” He wouldna have any one to give lessons to – an dere would be no one for Canú at story time, and who would Lady Nilya give her honey cakes to if I go away?

The child’s response brought a tear to the March Warden’s eye, and he noted that Estel was probably more right than he knew about how essential he was to the lives of the residents of Imladris. “You are absolutely right Estel, I did not think of that – perhaps just a visit then…”

“A visit? I could do a visit,” the child said as he nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Very well then – a visit it shall be!”

“Halli?”

“Yes little one?”

“Do you t’ink mayhaps I ought to take a nap before ‘den?” he questioned as he lowered his head to the March Warden’s shoulder.

“I think that would probably be a very good idea Estel, what say I take one with you – we will rest before supper and dream of all the wonderful things you will see in the Golden Wood when you come for your visit.”

“Dat sounds good Halli,” the child said drowsily, “…weally good.”

“Yes,” the warden replied smiling as Estel drifted off, “…it weally does.”

~~~

Cilinwë headed back to his sammoth feeling as if the day had dragged on forever. Though it was only barely later than mid-afternoon he felt unusually tired. It had been a very long time since the Last Homely House had seen this much activity in the way of a military presence; not since the Orc wars over 150 years ago had the house known such commotion.

Unbuckling his sword he placed it carefully on the table in the center of the room. For a moment more he stood glancing at it, then gave it a reassuring pat and moved away from the table. The sword had once belonged to his friend Hendil, who gave the ultimate sacrifice in defense of their freedom. He wore it each day in tribute to a life that was cut down far too soon, a constant reminder to be ever watchful in his duties as Captain of Elrond’s personal guard. Seating himself in an oversized chair he contemplated the day’s events.

Never would he have believed that the vile acts that had been perpetrated against them could have been committed by an elf; but the evidence was undeniable, and now he worried for the little one. Estel was as trusting and innocent as one gets, and he would undoubtedly respond to any elf who beckoned him. It was wise of Glorfindel to assign him his own personal guardians, for the little one would invariably be drawn to any new face he saw. He was pleased that his long time friends Haldir and Rúmil had been pressed into service in this regard, for he could not think of an elf more conscientious than Haldir or one more aware of his surroundings than Rúmil. Between the three of them Estel should be safe – "No!” He chastised himself, "He will be safe – we will not let harm come to the boy, he is, after all, one of us…an orphan, we orphans have to look out for each other,” he said smiling.

As he toed off his boots, he looked over to his own sword, “Celebhîth,” a present from his warrior fathers on the day he reached his majority. He remembered fondly the day it was presented to him, his 100th begetting day celebration; the day after the 5-way tournament where he fought all four of his fathers simultaneously. Through all these years he’d only had occasion to use it once, during the Last Alliance when he fought beside his king. Now it held a place of honor hanging above the mantle directly below the great king’s portrait.

With multiple fathers raising him he’d learned every military skill imaginable. He was accomplished with the bow, lance, axe, short blades, hand-to-hand combat, and all manner of smaller close contact weapons; but it was the sword at which he excelled. Soon it became apparent that this was the weapon that would become synonymous with his name. Each of his fathers set the training bar a little bit higher than the other, and they constantly challenged him to display his skills; knowing that the day might come when they would not be there to protect him. The sleek mithril sword was hand crafted especially for him, designed by the youngest of his warrior fathers who was said to be a favorite of the Valar. The blade was forged by Celebrimbor himself, infused they said, with the virtues of truth and light and imbued with the power of Aulë. A thing of great beauty, it was his most prized possession. Unique in its making, the strength of the Vala Aulë protected it, for only Cilinwë could wield it; no other could even unsheathe it, and he guarded it jealously.

As he pulled off his tunic and prepared to bathe before the evening meal, his thoughts shifted back to Estel. How dear this child had become to him. It sometimes amazed him what a strong connection the two of them shared and it was at times like this that he began to second-guess himself and his commitment to abstain from having a family of his own. ‘There will be time enough for that later,’ he thought, but for now, he was content to share his life with his extended Imladrian family.

His eyes shifted to the box in the corner “Estel’s gift. Perhaps I will carve a little before my bath, with everything that is going on there is no telling when I will again have any free time, and this must be completed before the little one’s birthday celebration.” As Cilinwë sat down to carve, a strange feeling came over him, and his eyes were drawn to Celebhîth. The uneasy feeling became more intense, and he felt as if the sword was calling to him. Rising from the chair, he crossed the room to the mantle and placed his hand on the sword. Instantly he sensed a pulsing, throbbing vibration. “What is it old friend,” he said aloud as he took the sword down from the wall, but the only response he received was the continued throbbing sensation.

In all the many years that he’d been in possession of the sword the only other time he’d experienced anything like this was during the Last Alliance. The sword had pulsed almost non-stop during the entire war, becoming more and more active as the evil of the orcs and the Dark Lord came closer. Now here it was again. Holding the sword gingerly in his hands he spoke to it. ”You sense it too, do you not old friend? Yes…I know…it dares to come closer. But we shall be ready for it…we will protect our Lord Elrond, and our people.” Slowly he crossed the room to his balcony doors. Looking outside he scanned the nearby treeline and the areas close to the gates. “I know you are out there,” he said aloud; then with an imperceptible quickness he unsheathed his sword. “If you want us so badly then come!” “Bertho!” (Dare it!) and the pulsating blade turned a pale shade of blue.


Chapter 51 - More Than One BattleTo Fight

Elrond perched precariously on the edge of a stool, his feet barely skimming the bottom rung. Head bent over his work, he concentrated furiously while his four assistants scurried about the room bringing jars of herbs to his side as he called for them. Erestor too was busy, making repeated trips back and forth to the library for various requested texts, while Andras and Aphrod lay within sight – dying by inches. Were it just a matter of potions and herbs the great Lord would have had the situation under control long ago, but this was not about illness and remedy – there was magic afoot.

With the help of Orophin and Elwaith, Elrond and his assistants worked feverishly through the afternoon seeing to the needs of their patients. Elrond made a mental connection with Aphrod, keeping him in an unconscious state while he worked on the sentry’s hands.

With his direction, the assistants mixed a variety of potions and elixirs, most designed to keep the two patients pain free. Aphrod had not regained consciousness since the time of his attack, and having observed the pain and anguish experienced by the Lórien Ostler, Elrond preferred to keep it that way. He was not inclined to allow the young sentry to awaken, not even for the questioning that Glorfindel deemed necessary for security. Elrond felt that waking the unfortunate elf, however briefly, would be cruel and unproductive. The existence of this beast in the guise of an elf had already been confirmed to his satisfaction; rousing poor Aphrod to provide a visual description, was to his mind redundant, and he thought back now on his earlier conversation with his Commander of Arms…

Flashback:

“Perhaps your way is best Elrond,” Glorfindel said. “Making the lad re-live this trauma can have no true benefit. We must count ourselves lucky that we have the Lórien contingent with us, as I understand it; Timagol was once a resident of Mirkwood, and at least two of the sentries at Elladan’s eastern outpost hail from the Havens. Between us we should be able to identify any elf we might come across.”

Elrond shook his head; weary was he with the events of the day. “Our advantage lies in the fact that we will not recognize this ‘elf,” he said, “it lies in the fact that he is not one of us…he thinks he has the upper hand now, but he is wrong…our knowledge of each other is what will keep us safe.”

“I agree. It is the one element in all of this that cannot be compromised.”

“Besides,” Elrond continued, “…a visual description would do us little good, what, after all, could he tell us?” “That he was attacked by an elf with blond, brown, or black hair? It is not as if the firstborn are covered in scars or other distinguishing marks.”

“True,” Glorfindel replied, “I had not thought of it from that perspective, finding out that the attacker is an elf has not been something that I can easily get my mind around.”

“I understand old friend, believe me I do, but I do not believe that this is an elf.”

“What say you?” Glorfindel exclaimed. “How then can you explain what Rilloth found in the forest? He is the finest tracker in any realm Elrond…he is never wrong – no, if he marks it as an elf then it be an elf.”

“Oh I do not doubt Rilloth’s eye my friend, I say only that his eye has been deliberately deceived. What walks in those woods walks as an elf…looks like an elf…but I assure you my friend no one of the firstborn has done this thing. No one of the firstborn could.” A pensive look crossed Elrond’s face as he stared out the window at the horizon. “Erestor is right in his conclusion, what plagues us does not come from Valinor, nor is it ‘born’ of this land”

“You mean…”

“I mean that our good counselor is, as always, quite astute. Our problem originated at the gates of Isengard – trust in that wizard is something that I have never had.”

“Hurump!” Glorfindel snorted, “And what of Gandalf, you think him a part of this?”

“Nay…he is the only one of the three that remain that I do trust.”

“Yes, well, he did, after all, bring me to you.”

“Hummm yes, well I suppose that will have to count for something” Elrond teased.

“Indeed.”

The moment’s levity was, unfortunately, quickly replaced by the reality of the daunting task that lay before them. Elrond would have to find a counter spell or a cure soon or Andras would not continue, his arrival in the Halls of Mandos unnecessarily expedited, and Aphrod would soon follow.

“No mellon nín, when I touched Aphrod…touched his Fëa…what I felt was the residue of evil…pure unadulterated evil – the kind that can only be conjured at the tip of a wizard’s tongue.”

Glorfindel’s back visibly straightened, his shoulders squared, and he momentarily fingered the hilt of his dagger. “I will promise you this old friend, if he is found to be the one responsible for the torment that those two young elves are enduring…or for the fear that has been gouged into the hearts of our people, I will bring you that tongue on a silver salver.”

End Flashback.

As the Seneschal stacked the last of the heavy tomes on the table at Elrond’s right hand, he glanced at the weary nestron. It had not gone without notice that his Lord had yet to eat. The cabbage fiasco of two days ago left Elrond weakened, but for all his belligerent denial he could not fool Erestor. The wily Seneschal had been watching him for the better part of the morning, and his declarations of “I am fine,” were falling on deaf, albeit perfectly pointed little ears. These two had been together far too long for Erestor to fall for that line. Placing the books on the table, he stood there – ostensibly ‘arranging’ them in the correct order, while he surreptitiously assessed his lord.

“Do not hover Erestor,” Elrond said without looking up, “you are beginning to look like a mother hen with her chicks, if you are not careful the children will start to throw corn at you - I am fine.”

“Perhaps, but I would feel more confident in your statement if I knew there was something more substantial than the weak broth you have consumed over the last two days in your stomach.”

“Erestor,” Elrond said his voice cautioning; “Do not ‘Erestor’ me with that tone Elrond Eärendilion, it is my duty to make sure that everything in this house runs smoothly – including you,” he said with a huff.

The ancient elf just smiled; he knew only too well that arguing with Erestor about anything was futile. The Seneschal was a master diplomat and a cunning strategist, arguments with Erestor were seldom won; and on the rare occasions when they were; the ‘winner’ always seemed to have to capitulate in some other way. One came to know, that in negotiations with the Lord Erestor, ‘concessions’ would be made, for he would not come away from the table empty-handed. And then of course there was the matter of his stubbornness; a condition that Glorfindel described as ‘legendary’, and something he could readily testify to - once the counselor’s mind was set there was nothing more to be said.

“I am sure you are right Seneschal, but do you think you could ensure the proper running of the house from over there?” he asked as he pointed to the doorway.

“Well I never!” Erestor replied in mock indignation.

“Do not let that falsehood slip past your lips exotic one, for you are almost as old as me, and you have done it all!”

“And more!” Came an enthusiastic quip from the golden-haired warrior whose frame now blocked the doorway.

“I would tread lightly if I were you Glorfindel, our friend here is feeling very – truculent this eve – you might find yourself confined to your room for the rest of the night.”

“And without your supper ‘dearest’ – so mind your tongue! And I am not truculent, thank you very much!” Erestor added “I am thorough…perhaps a bit protective at times…”

Glorfindel sputtered, almost choking on the glass of sherry he was nursing, “A bit protective?” he quipped. The Lord of Imladris looked on adoringly; he loved watching the interplay between these two, and was not above fanning the flames from time to time. Quickly he added his voice to what he could see was going to be an entertaining argument.

“At times, only at times? I do not think the twins would agree with that,” Elrond offered as he looked to Glorfindel for support. Support that the warrior was more than willing to provide, and a little too quickly for Erestor’s taste.

“Aye - Nor would Cilinwë or Braneth or any of the other warriors for that matter.”

“Do not forget Nilya – he is always hovering around poor Nilya,” Elrond added.

“Indeed! The poor elleth can barely keep him out of her kitchen,” Glorfindel confirmed. “And would you believe that Maeraen had to practically run him out of the smithy a few days ago, and all over a tiny little burn on the hand – whoever heard of a smithy who had not been burned a time or two?”

“Certainly not I,” the nestron added shaking his head in the negative.

“Exactly. Hovering.”

Erestor stood with his arms folded across his chest glaring at the two troublemakers. This was not the first time that they had tried to double-team him and as always he was ready for them.

“As I said, I am a little protective…but then, in this house one needs to be, else all manner of ill tidings might befall one. It is a good thing I was ‘hovering’ after that trip Elladan made to Laketown, else Elrohir, Arwen, and you for that matter my Lord, would all have been sitting here with the measles - for it was my ‘mothering’ eye that detected the rash before he could spread it to the rest of you.”

“Or perhaps you speak of the time that the twins thought the best way to handle a broken vase was to run away from home, lest their parents feed them to a balrog? Now I wonder where they could have gotten that idea?” he said looking pointedly at Glorfindel. “Were it not for my ‘protective’ instincts we would probably still be searching for them.”

“And then of course there was the time when a certain wife-mother came to visit and seemed hell bent on monopolizing all the free time of her only offspring, who, as it turns out, had, unbeknownst to her husband, selected just that particular day as the begetting day for the child she’d been planning for months. How fortuitous that I just “happened” along to distract said mother-in-law long enough for the aforementioned ‘dynamic duo’ to be conceived.”

“As for Lady Nilya, she, like some others in this room that I will not name, is as stubborn as she is old, and is not always, shall we say ‘forthcoming’ when something ails her. It is at times like that when a little protective hovering can come in quite handy in determining whether one of our most revered residents is being worked too hard and needs to rest.”

“And then there is Maeraen…ah yes, Maeraen who has burned himself 47 times in the last 2 months. Maeraen who always refuses to seek medical attention, leaving those untreated burns to become infected. Unless of course said medical attention is administered by me, – the person, by his word, with the ‘lightest’ touch in all of Imladris,” he said while holding up one gloriously delicate hand and admiring it as if it was a piece of porcelain.

“And last but not least there is our ‘illustrious’ slayer of balrogs, Glorfindel. He who jests at my expense, but cannot seem to remember anything that one asks him to do unless a note is written.”

Glorfindel looked away from the slowly advancing counselor and tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his robe. “Yes…,” Erestor said as he came even closer, “Glorfindel…who cannot seem to find a way to keep his rather large foot in his boot as opposed to his mouth!”

These last words were all but flung in poor Glorfindel’s direction, but the diminutive counselor wasn’t finished. Standing now not quite nose to nose, he continued his onslaught.

“Now, could that be the same Glorfindel who in the past year forgot our edinor (anniversary)? The one who forgot that I am allergic to that horrid spice from the East, pap’rika, when he made the ‘special’ supper for my begetting day festivities? Could it be the same Glorfindel who forgot the Day of Romance designated by Queen Varda Elentári herself, as a day of celebration for lovers? Or, was it the same Glorfindel who forgot to have the settee in our sammoth sent to the cabinetmaker for re-stuffing even though he has been asked to do it six times!? We are talking about that Glorfindel are we not? Pity that there was no one around “hovering” to remind him of those things. It is also a pity that he did not remember that settee, for that is where he will be sleeping for the next fortnight!”

Composing himself again Erestor straightened his robes with a firm tug and turned to march from the room giving the two elves behind him one last parting shot. “If you two will excuse me, I go now to find someone in need of ‘mothering’ – I am sure I can find at least ‘one’ person here in Imladris who appreciates my efforts.”

The two properly reproved Lords called after the insulted seneschal to no avail.

“Erestor…Erestor…do not leave like this. Erestor…”

“No, no, Lord Glorfindel…,” he said, “I would not wish to keep you from whatever it was you were doing before I distracted you with my hovering.”

“Now look what you have done,” scowled Elrond.

“Me?”

“Yes you, I told you to tread gently, now he is upset and we will be paying for this for days.”

“What do you mean we? You are not the one who will be sleeping on the settee!”

“Well you had better go and…” Elrond’s words were cut off as he doubled over clutching his chest gasping for air.

“My Lord! Elrond what is it?” Glorfindel shouted as he shoved a chair out of his way and rushed to the side of his liege.

The nestron braced himself by holding on to the corner of the desk, and with pain-glazed eyes he looked out toward the trees.

“Elrond, what is wrong?”

“It is close,” was all he could manage to say as he crumpled to the floor.


Chapter 52 - Something Evil This Way Comes

Lady Nilya slumped against the table, ‘This time,’ she thought, ‘I do not think I am going to be lucky’, and just as quickly as the thought had come, she passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor. Perwaen’s protective gaze had been following her steps since the first occurrence earlier in the day and again she took charge of the kitchen and the lady. Cradling Nilya in her arms she called for a cool cloth and gingerly pressed it to her forehead and neck. Gently patting her cheek she called to her in an attempt to revive her. “Please milady, awaken,” she said desperately. “Lady Nilya…Lady Nilya!”

“There is no need to shout child,” came the groggy response, “I am not deaf.”

A collective sigh of relief escaped the lips of the kitchen staff, for although they had not moved from their respective stations, they had, none of them taken their eyes off the lady from the moment she hit the floor.

“Send Thorodir for a healer!” Perwaen called out.

“No,” the lady instructed, “have him come in here to me, I will need his help – this time I will go to Elrond.”
~~~~~~~~~~

Haldir carried Estel gently to his bed. The little one had tired himself out so completely that he was not roused from his sleep when the door to his room slipped from Haldir’s hand and closed a little too loudly causing the Galadhel to start. Carefully he lowered the child onto the bed and began to remove his tiny suede boots. With the footwear removed he attempted to get the child out of his tunic and leggings without waking him, no easy task, even for one as experienced with sleepy-headed children as Haldir. He lifted one little arm and then the other and was reminded of a time when his brothers were this size, especially Orophin, who would often fall asleep in his lap. He remembered well how the toddler would pull himself to a standing position using one of his trouser legs to help balance himself, then grin from ear to ear at his accomplishment while reaching up to his brother’s loving arms for comfort.

He remembered fondly how he cherished those moments, even Rúmil, who though older than Orophin, could be counted on to find his way to Haldir’s lap whenever he was overly tired or upset. Halli’s lap; the one place in all of Arda that was safe from orcs, and dragons, and all those dark horrid things that go bump in the night.

He settled the boy just shy of the center of the bed then quickly drew off his own tunic, toed off his boots and settled down next to him. As he turned onto his side and began to get comfortable Estel suddenly sat up in a sleepy haze. Looking groggily around the room he finally pointed to the foot of the bed and asked for “Nif.” In the semi-darkened room Haldir’s first reaction was confusion, but knowing how children often like to sleep with something soft next to them he scanned the room for what Estel’s ‘something’ might be. Finally, he spied the tattered little white rabbit hanging off the end of the bed. Next to it lay a soft yellow blanket, obviously made specifically for a child, so, anticipating what was bound to be Estel’s next request, he grabbed both. Handing the rabbit to the child he watched as Estel cuddled up right next to him with Nif clutched tight to his chest.

“Halli?” he whispered.

“Yes…”

“Halli will you braid my hair like yours?”

“Estel, have not your adar or your brothers explained how you may get your braids?” he said as he ran his fingers through the child’s soft dark curls.

“Ada said I hafta wait until I am older, but Ima be older weal soon Halli, I havin’ a birt-day.”

“Really?”

“Yup, I gonna be dis many years old,” he said holding up four tiny grubby little fingers. It was only then that Haldir realized he probably should have washed him up a little before he put him down.

“Westor said that I must be older and I must ‘prove’ myself. I gonna be older Halli, but I don’ know how to prove me yet.”

The Galadhel just smiled, “Do not worry over it little one, when the time comes you will know what to do – I am sure of it.” As he moved to cover the babe with the blanket he was further surprised as Estel took the side of the pastel cloth and carefully arranged it over Haldir’s waist and hip.

“Night-night Halli,” the child whispered as he protectively patted the Warden’s chest.

“Sweet dreams little one,” the warden replied as he kissed the top of the child’s head “Rest well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel ushered Elrond into the private anteroom next door to the infirmary and had just helped him into a chair when an agitated knock, followed by an excited voice came at the door.

“Lord Elrond! Milord!”

“Enter!” Glorfindel called out as he eased Elrond into the seat. No sooner had the elf lord begun to raise his head but the door flung open to reveal Thorodir carrying Lady Nilya with Perwaen in frightened pursuit. The trio stopped short, just inside the door, when they noticed the pained expression that covered the great lord’s face. Perwaen rushed forward as the Lady Nilya made her displeasure known once again…

“Put me down you young upstart! I said I needed assistance, not that I need to be carried around as though I was still in swaddling clothes.”

Completely un-phased Thorodir responded, “It will serve you naught to argue Milady, that is the second time today you have fainted in those kitchens, and until our Lord Elrond says differently you will be held right here in my arms for safety.”

The lady was not pleased, and although she continued to bluster, she could not help but be proud of the young elf that held her so securely. Thorodir was one of her ‘lads’, one of the many young elves that she’d taken under her protective wing. With parents who’d sailed almost 200 years past, the house sentry had, at one time, become quite solitary and withdrawn, preferring the confines of his room to the company of others – that is until the Lady began her nurturing, mothering ways. Within a very short amount of time she had him back in the social circle of his friends – and now here he was defiantly caring for her – it warmed her heart to know that she too was loved like a mother.

“What is this about fainting?” Glorfindel queried.

“The lady has fainted twice this morn in the kitchens,” Perwaen supplied.

“Twice you say?”

“Yes, both times came upon her quite suddenly, and the second time she was not able to keep herself from falling…she nearly fell into the hot stove.”

Nilya however, was not about to be made to seem like an invalid and quickly leapt to her own defense.

“Do not be dramatic child, – I was in no danger of hitting the stove.”

“But you could have,” Thorodir challenged, “…and do not glare at me lady mother…if you will not take care of yourself then you leave us no choice but to do it in your stead. I fault myself for not acting sooner, I should have brought you straight away to Lord Elrond the moment you fell dizzy this morn!” Nilya made to speak, but was further reprimanded by the young sentry.

“Ah, ah, ah…do not say another word - I will not be intimidated by you this day Milady, and you will please to hold still – lest you unsettle yourself again, and I will hear no more of this nonsense about how well you feel.” Completely taken aback, Nilya defiantly folded her arms across her chest and gave the young sentry her best scowl. Glorfindel smiled at the strapping young elf, glad to see that someone had taken the reins and pulled his friend of many centuries into line.

“Good for you young one, she is always cranky when she does not get her way – but do not let that dissuade you. And do not put faith in that fairytale she tells about ‘feeling fine’ – the Valar know I have certainly heard enough of that tale in the past few days to last me yet another lifetime.” “
This one,” he said as he nodded in the direction of Elrond, “…has given my already frayed nerves quite a tug over the last two days.”

“Frayed nerves?” An affronted Elrond’s eyebrow quickly rose, “What reason could you possibly have for frayed nerves living in a place as peaceful as Imladris?”

“Dost thee forget with whom I abide?”

Slowly rising from the chair Elrond moved towards Nénilya as he answered, “Say no more my friend, we have already had a taste of that once today – I would not wish you to further indict yourself in that regard, you already have enough to pay for before the day is over.”

“You have never spoken more truly mellon nín, but the question now is how are you really feeling?”

“Do not trouble yourself over me Glorfindel; the wind was momentarily taken from me but the pain is gone now. Whatever that thing is out there it grows closer…and the closer it gets the stronger the feeling of evil becomes.”

“Aye…,” added Nilya, “I too have experienced the evil, it seems to wash over you – it literally took my breath away, that is why I fainted, it was as if my entire being was suddenly…wrapped in evil.”

“Yes…engulfed – that is exactly how I felt!” Elrond exclaimed excitedly. Aware now that she was not the only person to experience the phenomena Nilya felt compelled to be forthcoming.

“Elrond…,” she hesitated at first, then just blurted it out, “Elrond, when I fainted in the kitchen this morning it was not the first time.”

“What?” Perwaen’s shocked voice silenced the room. Appearing embarrassed, Nilya, red-faced, and a little less feisty continued, “The first time it happened was last night…I was alone in my room and that overwhelming feeling of dread came upon me…I was dizzy – not like this morning or just now," she hastened to add, "but lightheaded nonetheless.”

“I knew it!” Perwaen exclaimed, “I knew you were keeping something from me.”

“And me!” Thorodir added angrily. Shamefaced Nilya looked at the pair lovingly, “I was not ‘deliberately’ trying to keep anything from either of you, at the time I just did not think it serious enough to mention.”

“Well now we know differently!” Thorodir exclaimed.

“Yes…” she said sheepishly, “…now we know.”

As the three continued to bicker back and forth over the Lady concealing her condition, Elrond again took a seat and Glorfindel moved to the wine cabinet to pour everyone what he hoped would be, a calming glass of sherry. As the elf lord watched the amusing tableau play out before him his attention was once again drawn to the view outside the terrace doors. His eyes scanned the vista and his heart began to pound ever harder in his chest. He did not wish to alarm his friends, but this enemy was closer than it had ever been, he could feel it; and a quick glance at Glorfindel told him that the balrog slayer was on to him. The commander continued to make light conversation with the bickering threesome, but at the same time he moved to the terrace and closed the doors. With a knowing look at Elrond he quietly threw the bolt that secured the doors shut, then rejoined the group, giving the worried lord a reassuring pat on the shoulder and whispering as he passed.

“All will be well my friend…I promise you.”

Three days had passed since the rescue patrol left the gates of Imladris to retrieve their sentries from the Eastern and Western outposts. According to plan, Braneth split the group into two patrols sending Rilloth, Panír and Imril to the Western outpost and taking Malrin, Geleph and the less experienced Golros with him to the Eastern watchtower. The elves wasted no time weaving their way through the forests of Rivendell, the way was well known to them and their horses traversed the paths with practiced accuracy. The pace they set was fast, and Golros, who was unused to traveling by horseback, was hard pressed to keep up. The newly promoted instructor was somewhat embarrassed by his lack of equestrian skill, and vowed that if he could just make it through the day he would have master Colwandë pick out a suitable mount for him and sign up immediately for riding classes. At the moment he just hoped that he wasn’t slowing the rescue party down too much. ‘Funny how that works,’ he thought, ‘I wonder if they even realize that they need rescuing.’

As they drew closer to the outpost his thoughts were displaced by a scent on the wind of potatoes and carrots. Someone up ahead was preparing dinner and it smelled wonderful. He was only now realizing that he had not eaten since the day before yesterday and his stomach was empty. Although it was true that elves could go for longer periods of time without eating, the Lady Nilya had long ago dubbed him with a moniker she’d heard the humans use when referring to their always hungry children – something called a ‘bottomless pit’. She claimed that he was the only elf she’d ever met who could eat non-stop and still have room for more; teasing him that he ate like a Hobbit.

So embarrassed was he at the thought of it, that he went on a fast for a week refusing to even look at food – until his wife Adril, petitioned the Lady to allow her to make a special meal to entice Golros back to the table. The mere thought of that wonderful meal had his mouth watering, and he wondered now if they would have enough time to eat while the three outpost sentries packed up their belongings for the ride home.

Elsewhere, four determined horsemen were speedily making their way home. Two from Rohan and two from Mirkwood, each hoping that their journey would be not only swift but also fruitful. Little did they know, that between them they held the salvation of both victims, and that before it was over at least one more life would hang in the balance.


Chapter 53 - Difficult Patients Difficult Times

The members of the healing room staff were all nervous and anxious. None of them had ever seen the great lord in such a state. Tired? Harried? Yes, they had seen that. Worried, frustrated and overworked? They had seen that as well. But no one had ever seen him so unceremoniously incapacitated. Anything that could take the elf lord down to his knees was no small thing, and the staff worried now for his recovery. Berach, the fourth assistant, was the one who seemed least able to cope with Elrond’s sudden affliction. Nervously he paced back and forth in front of the door to the infirmary awaiting either his lord’s return or word from Glorfindel. The Golden One had, at Elrond’s request, quickly escorted the ancient healer from the rooms as soon as he was able to stand. As usual, Elrond refused medical assistance, citing a momentary weakness in his knee as the cause of his near collapse; and with the balrog slayer’s help, was up and out the door before the two more experienced nestron could assess his condition.

Diligently tending to their two patients they busied themselves administering the latest batch of sleeping draughts, and re-hydrating the flesh of the injured elves while they waited for news from the room next door.

“Perhaps one of us should go and see to him?” Berach offered.

“Calm yourself Berach, he will only send us away…trust me, if we are needed Lord Glorfindel will be the first to let us know,” replied Sereth the second assistant.

“Do not worry for him, he was able to leave under his own power and would not want us hovering over him while there are patients to tend. Come, help me with Aphrod…we should bathe him and get fresh linens for his bed.”

Reluctantly, Berach moved from the door. His worry over Elrond was compounded by his fear of treating the sentry. They’d been told that the wound was caused by some outside influence, and was therefore not contagious. However, Berach, always a worrier, was not completely convinced, and had yet to assist in the hands-on care of either patient. The young healer had an excellent mind for medicine but could sometimes be thrown off track by maladies or injuries that he’d never before seen. Because of this, it was most often he, who Elrond would ask to accompany him on journeys to neighboring realms; he felt it was important for the youngster to be exposed to as many new circumstances and people as possible.

But there was something about this new situation that frightened Berach beyond all reason. He wanted to help as much as he could, but was afraid to get too close or to touch either patient. Obviously, this was not something that could be allowed to continue. The young one would have to get used to all kinds of injuries and all kinds of sickness, lest he forever be relegated to the shelves of the apothecary with no hope of ever being allowed to treat patients. It was Elrond’s fondest wish that he would somehow overcome this trepidation, for his potential as a healer was great, and the elf lord did not wish to lose such a valuable asset to the mindlessness of fear.

But standing here now, stomach churning, feet seemingly frozen to the floor; it was all Berach could do to keep from turning and running in the other direction. He was afraid, and he did not tally the likelihood of that fact changing in the next few moments, so there was naught else to do but practice what his Lord had tried to teach him.

Mentally he ticked off the list; “#1 - Be bigger than the situation as a whole. #2 - Control it, own it, command it, bend it to your will. You cannot be infected with a disease if you are in control over it. #3 - You are the healer, and this malady will bend to your treatment, succumb to your abilities, and be vanquished by your superior knowledge.” At least that’s what he kept telling himself as he moved to help Sereth bathe and tend the wounded elf. “I can do this, I can do this, I can do this”… he said to himself – but somehow his heart just wasn’t in it.


Evening of the sixth day:

The day went much as the preceding days had. Estel spent his morning with Rúmil, the hours during his lessons with Cilinwë and Erestor, and his late afternoon and evening with Haldir. Naptime was just about over and the first of the dinner bells had sounded. This first bell was designed to alert the residents of the Last Homely House that supper was a mere hour away and that they should begin to wrap up whatever chore they were working on and ready themselves for the evening meal. Dinner at Imladris was a special occasion. It was not always possible for everyone to sit at each meal, but dinner was a little different. Dinner was the one time of the day when every resident, with the exception of the sentries, was present for the meal. Lord Elrond felt it important that they have this time together each day to break bread and commune; so barring any unforeseen circumstances everyone stopped work at first bell and returned to their quarters to prepare for supper.

The sound of first bell roused Haldir from his sleep. The drowsy warden yawned and stretched, and momentarily forgetting where he was, almost rolled over onto Estel. He lay there for a few minutes gazing down at the peacefully sleeping child; wondering if any of their lives would be as peaceful and calm as this again; pondering whether the day would ever come when he would be cradling his own elflings in this fashion. He acknowledged that it was generally agreed throughout Lothlórien that Rúmil would probably be the first to have children. He could understand how folks would come to think that, as Rúmil’s great love of children was undeniable. Orophin was a confirmed bachelor, or at least it seemed that way to outsiders, and he, well the only entity folks could imagine Haldir being married to was the Golden Wood. Little did they know that they were wrong, completely wrong on all three counts. Rúmil did in fact love children, however, it was he and not Orophin who truly lived the bachelor lifestyle. And although Orophin’s patients were always his primary concern he did in fact long to be married, to start a family of his own. As for Haldir, no one would ever guess how desperately he longed for the peace and tranquility of married life.

Estel slept peacefully on as Haldir exited the bed and searched for his boots. His movements in the twilight-darkened room finally roused the sleeping youngster and he slowly sat up rubbing his eyes and searching the dark for his new friend.

“Halli?”

“I am here little one, I cannot find my boots – wait a moment while I light a torch.” The warden removed an extinguished torch from the wall and exited the room into the hallway where he lit it by one of the already burning torchere in the corridor. Returning to the room he lit the other torches and remembering the things he’d learned in his dealings with human’s and their sensitivity to cold, he kindled a fire in the fireplace and stoked it until he could feel the heat begin to warm the room.

“There, that should do it.” With the room now warming and fully illuminated he finally found his boots.

“Ah there they are!” he exclaimed. “Did you sleep well little one?”

“Uh –huh.”

“Are you ready for a grand supper?”

“Yeth, my tummy is talkin’ Halli.”

“Talking?”

“Uh-huh it wumbles sometimes – like da thunder. Ada says iss just tellin’ me iss em-tee. Boy it must weally be em-tee Halli, cause its talkin’ weal loud.” The warden just laughed as he flopped down on the bed and pulled the child into his arms.

“Well then we must hurry and get ready for evening meal, we do not want to keep your tummy waiting do we?”

“Nope, ‘sides Ada does not like it when we are late to evening meal, he says it makes everyone else wait for dere supper and dat’s rude.”

“All right, what say we gather up your clothes and things and take them to my room and get ready together?”

“To your room Halli?” the child said in amazement.

“Yes, that way you and I and Rúmil can get ready together, I think Rúmil has probably missed your company this afternoon, and then you can meet our little brother Orophin.”

“Oh boy!” the child exclaimed as he bounced on the bed, “I gonna meet you liddle brudder Halli?”

“Of course. He has been very busy these last few days, and his schedule in the infirmary has not allowed him much personal time, but tonight he is off duty and he is anxious to meet you. So, let us make haste, go to the privy while I get my boots on, then we will pick out your clothes and go to my room to bathe and dress.”

“Yippee!” Estel yelled as he scooted down off the bed and ran for the toilet. As the Marchwarden watched him leave he smiled to himself – ‘One of these days’, he thought ‘I shall have a house filled with elflings, and if I am lucky they will all be full of life, just like you’. Then he hurried to pull on his boots, dinner was calling, and as Estel had just reminded him, it would not be good form to be late.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The darkness of evening fell over the Misty Mountains, and the Last Homely House came alive with action. Moving from room to room the staff quickly lit the torches throughout the house and the resultant light gave the home the appearance of a glittering jewel nestled in the bosom of the mountain. The lights were a welcome beacon, helping to dispel the gloom and the sense of foreboding that had settled over the inhabitants of Imladris; providing a much needed incentive to tired riders making their way back home. Riders, who wanted to stop and rest, but could not. Rescue riders who had not dismounted since they left Imladris days earlier – not even when they reached their destination, too fearful that the enemy might spring upon them and catch them unawares if they alit. Horses that were panting and sweated over from the journey, too dedicated to their masters to give in or give out.

Four sets of riders, one from each compass point surrounding the valley: North from Thranduil, South from Rohan, and East and West from the border outposts, all hurrying, all desperate to get home, back to the Last Homely House and the safety found behind impenetrable Elven gates - gates buoyed by the strength of their warriors and the power of Vilya.


Chapter 54 - Dinner Is Served

Haldir pulled on a fresh shirt while he watched Rúmil braid his hair anew. “Hurry Rúmil, the bell for supper will be sounding in a few minutes.”

“Do not worry over me brother, I am almost done…you however, still have to get Estel out of the bathing pool.”

“Estel…have you finished in there yet?”

“Almost Halli,” the child called out giggling.

“Estel…are you bathing or bubbling? I hear an awful lot of splashing going on in there.”

“I doin’ bofh Halli – honest.”

Haldir stepped to the door and took a quick peek, “Well I think you have made a pretty fair task of it, but it is time to get out now little one, we do not wish to be late for supper, and Orophin will no doubt be here in a few minutes so we must hurry.”

“A’right Halli, I comin’,” he said as he scrambled out of the shallow pool. Grabbing his drying cloth from a stool by the side of the pool, Estel covered the front of his body with it and attempted to wrap the rest of the fabric around him as he had seen his father and brothers do a thousand times. Unfortunately he was neither as coordinated or as long of reach as they were, and wound up exiting the bathing pool with the cloth clutched to his chest and his little bottom exposed to the wind. As Haldir finished dressing, Rúmil scooped Estel up, gave him a good tickle, and began drying him off.

“We must hurry little one, let us get your braises on, Halli, where did you put his hosen?”

“They are over there on the chair. Here, let me help.”

Between the two of them they dried and dressed Elrond’s little bath demon, and Haldir was patiently brushing the tangles from his hair when the second bell calling for residents to assemble for supper was rung.

“Oops, second bell Haldir…Orophin will be knocking on the door any second now, you know how much he hates being late.”

The sentence was barely past Rúmil’s lips when the knock came at the door.

Knock…Knock!

“Edro!” (open)

Opening the door only partially and leaning in to deliver his message, Orophin urged his brothers on to dinner.

“That was second bell, I hope the two of you are ready,” but before he could say another word his gaze fell upon Estel, standing between Haldir and Rúmil, holding their hands - barely knee-high to Haldir, wearing his royal blue robe and slippers with silver braided trim, with a slender mithril circlet on his neatly brushed head.

“Orophin,” Haldir started, “we would like you to meet a friend of ours…this is the Lord Estel
Elrondion…Estel, this is our little brother Orophin Hesonion, Counselor of Lothlórien…”

Estel was momentarily awe-struck. As he stood there trying to visually “get to the top” of Orophin, he realized that his head had tilted back as far as it could go and he’d only made it as far as the counselor’s chin. Normally a polite child, Estel would have said hello, but for the moment the only word that was able to escape his lips was…”Wow.”

Picking the child up so that the boy could get a better look at his brother, Rúmil continued.

“Orophin this is Estel…Haldir and I have been assigned as tirn for him while we hunt…”

Phin gave Rúmil a much practiced silencing glance anticipating that his brother was about to say too much. Haldir also heard the beginnings of “too much said” for little pitchers, and quickly jumped in to divert what would undoubtedly become an onslaught of questions.

“…for bunnies…while we hunt for bunnies. Estel and I had a hunting expedition just the other day, as a matter of fact.”

Orophin was beaming – and grinning, children were few and far between in the Elven realms, particularly in Lothlórien, and it appeared that his brothers had found a little treasure here in Imladris. “It is very nice to meet you Estel,” he said bowing slightly. “Have my brothers been taking good care of you?”

“Iss nice to meet you too O-ro-, O-ro-phin, an yeth, Halli an Wú have been taking weal good care of me…we had a lot of fun today didin’ we Halli?”

“Yes we did little one.”

Staring at Orophin, Estel’s anticipated questions began anew. “Halli, I thought you said that O-ro-phin was your liddle brudder?” “He is not liddle Halli,” the child said, correcting the March Warden’s perceptions, “he is weally big, he is bigger than you Halli, he is bigger than Ada, he is…,” the realization was only now hitting the youngster, “oh my, you are bigger than Glorfy!”

The four continued their discussion of big and little, as they made their way to the dining hall, with Estel skipping along and occasionally being swung back and forth between Haldir and Rúmil. When they finally reached the entrance to the dining hall, Haldir stopped to make sure that they were all as straight and tidy as they could be. Estel understood this procedure quite well, and surprised the three Galadhel when he proceeded to ‘arrange’ them in the hallway prior to entering the room.

“Halli is my circle on straight?”

“Yes Estel your cir-clet is straight.”

“A’right, Halli you stand here…and Wú you stand here, and O-ro, O-ro, (sigh) ‘Phin you have to stand in the back cause you are the biggest…an I will be right here cause I am the liddlest.”

“Estel?”

“Yes Halli?” he said staring up adoringly at his three companions.

“Who showed you how to do this?”

“Westor. Westor says iss always im-por-tent to make a N-trance.”

“I see,” the warden replied as he tried to stifle a laugh. “Well then, come along my brothers, this will be a first for us, we have never made an entrance before, let us be sure to do Estel proud.”

“Aww don’ worry Halli youl do just fine.”

With that, the littlest lord of Imladris turned, straightened his robes, squared his shoulders, stood as tall as he could and marched through the doors of the dining hall followed by Rúmil and then Haldir and Orophin who walked side-by-side and moved in tandem. Music was playing softly in the background, and as the four approached Lord Elrond’s table, the smiles around the room began to multiply. The sight of Estel, followed by three of the most proficiently dangerous elves in any realm was a sight to behold. Elrond was engaged in an animated conversation with Glorfindel when Erestor leaned over and whispered in his ear, drawing his attention to the new arrivals.

Gazing upon his youngest looking so grown up and in control, gave Elrond’s heart a tug, ‘It will not be long now’, he thought nostalgically, ‘soon he really will be a man and I shall have to let him go’. He felt the tears begin to well, and turned his head, blinking hard to push them back. He glanced at Erestor who seemed to be having the same problem – staving off the tears. “You have taught him well old friend, the day approaches when we shall have to…”

“Please…do not say it El…for now let us not think of what is to come…let us just enjoy our gift, our dear gift.”

“As always my friend, your counsel is wise, we still have many more days of adventure ahead of us, and we should embrace them all without thought of the end.”

The closer Estel got to the table the bigger his grin became. Finally, in the last ten feet he broke formation and ran open armed into his father’s lap joyfully calling out “Adaaaaaaa” as he went.

“How are you feeling Ada…do you feel better now?"

“I feel just fine my love, just fine.”

“I better take a look…just to make sure,” the child said seriously. Holding his father’s cheeks between his hands he slowly turned Elrond’s head from side to side looking for only he knew what. He then checked the eyes using a finger to pull down the lower lid on each, again searching for something only he could identify. “Hows you tummy?” he said as he gently patted his father on the stomach.

“My tummy is just fine; actually I am looking forward to having a wonderful meal tonight.”

“No more wumbling?”

“No more rumbling – I am fine, I promise.”

“Westor – what ‘bout you?”

“Me?” the shocked Seneschal replied.

“Yeth you, silly Westor,” he said as he leaned over and kissed the seneschal’s cheek, “I could take a look for you.”

Blushing slightly, Erestor was, after almost two years, still amazed at how freely and unabashedly this child gave his love. “That will not be necessary little nestron, I feel quite well thank you.”

“A’right Westor, no zam-in-ation this time, but you tell me if you start to feel bad…a’right?”

Erestor, whose approach to child rearing was to always treat a child’s ideas and thoughts with respect and sincerity, did not so much as crack a smile; Estel was serious, and Erestor’s response was as well.

“You shall be the first to hear of any ailments on my part.”

“Good, cause I don’ wanna have to give you any medi…medi…”

“Medicine?”

“Yeth, dat…Ada has not showed me how to make da tea yet so don’ get sick, m’kay?

Estel was taking no chances, the luncheon fiasco had frightened him more than he had let on, and he was determined to make sure that his loved ones were well. He knew that Erestor hadn’t eaten any of the tainted cabbage but as far as he was concerned one could never be too careful when it came to that green sludge.

Turning to his father Estel proceeded to introduce his entourage, “Ada you know Hal-deer the March wa’den, but do you know his brudder O-ro-phin? I know you know ‘Wú, cause you and Wú had a meeting, but do you know Phin?”

“As a matter of fact I do, we have been friends for many years…welcome to the last Homely House my friends, please join us; tolo, mado, a sogo uin mereth!” (Come, eat and drink of the feast) he said gesturing to the empty seats at his table.

“Thank you Milord Elrond.” As the three brothers took seats on the side of the table directly opposite Lord Elrond they were pleased to see the twins entering the dining hall. Approaching the dais they nodded their greeting to everyone seated nearby and each came up to their father and kissed his cheek before taking a seat.

“Good evening, how is everyone doing this eve?” Elrohir asked. As the positive responses came from around the table, the first of the servers entered the room bring tray after tray of food. Setting the first bowls and platters on the table the cooks watched as appreciative smiles acknowledged their culinary efforts. More and more residents began to filter into the hall, each nodding their greeting to Lord Elrond’s seat, as the tables were laid with food. Within minutes, the hall, with the exception of the boards (tables) designated for the warriors, was almost completely filled. Bowls of steaming food were passed around and Erestor carefully filled Estel’s plate with all of his favorite things; sliced roast chicken, green peas, his special ‘cloud’ potatoes and gravy, and on a side plate a hot buttered roll and a slice of spring melon. Sitting between his father and Erestor, Estel smiled a big smile across the table at his new friends, and cautioned them about eating too much.

“Don’ eat too much Halli, make sure you leave room for dessert, Lady Nilya made us booberry pie, do you like booberries Halli?”

“I love blueberries Estel, they are one of my favorites…”

“One of mine as well,” Orophin added, "Haldir makes a pretty fair blueberry pie himself, he used to make it for us all the time when we were younger.”

“That is right…I had almost forgotten that,” Rúmil offered, “why ever did you stop making them Halli, as I recall they were quite good.”

“The best,” Phin added.

“Well…” the warden began, “I stopped making them right after the two of you got into the larder and ate an entire basket of uncooked berries. When I found them they were covered in berry juice – little mouths ringed in blue, blue fingers, blue tongues - they were sick for three days afterwards and it took me weeks to get the stain out of their hair.”

This revelation sent up a howl of laughter and jokes around the table with the twins leading the charge.

“I wouldn’t laugh so hard if I were you,” Erestor scolded laughingly, “as memory serves, the two of you had a similar escapade with near disastrous results, Elrond exactly how many hours did it take you to get those berries out of Elrohir’s ears?”

“Not long…not nearly as long as it took to get them out of Elladan’s nose.” Finally silencing the twins’ jibes, the meal continued in companionable conversation and an exchange of news from the two realms. It had been sixty years since the wardens from Lórien had visited and there was a lot of catching up to do. As Elrohir regaled the dinner party with old tales of Rúmil’s forays into the land of romantic encounters, laughter once again circled the table. It was a much-needed change from the seriousness that launched their week, and the elves welcomed the levity. Although Estel loved to listen to the grown-ups he loved it even more when they allowed him to participate in their chats, and the child chose this moment to add his newly acquired information to the mix.

“Da ellith like Halli too!” Estel quipped as he nodded assuredly.

“Really, how do you know this Estel?” queried a mischievous Glorfindel.

“I heard ‘dem say so,” the little one replied with a smile.

“Now Estel…” Elrond admonished, “you know it is not nice to repeat things that you hear…especially if you heard a private conversation.”

“Now Ada, started Elrohir mischievously, “let him speak…if someone said something nice about our friend Haldir…it was something nice, right Estel?

“Yeth…I t’ink so.”

“And if they said it loud enough for Estel to hear…” Elladan continued, “and of course if he was not eavesdropping…you were not eavesdropping were you Estel?”

“Whas eaves, eaves..”

“Eavesdropping – it means if you were hiding and listening to a conversation.”

“Oh no…I wassen hiding Dan, honest, I was standing right dere in da door in front of ev’vabody when Perwaen said Halli was hebenly.”

“Whoa-oh! Heavenly? She said our Haldir is heavenly?” Elladan continued teasingly.

Haldir shook his head helplessly, covered his face with his hand, and hung his head while Estel prattled on.

“Uh-huh, and dweamy; I asked Linwë what dat means and he said it means she likes the way Halli looks…and I asked if she likes da way we look and he said yeth, but she likes the way Halli looks in a special way. Is it not nice to be special Ada? Linwë said it means she likes Halli…she likes us too, but it means Halli is special an…where is Linwë Ada? All da warriors are gone…where did dey go Ada?”

“All right little one, that is enough revelation for one evening…I am sure we all agree that Haldir is special…”

“Oh and let us not forget ‘dweamy’ Elrohir chided as he tilted his head and batted his lashes at his long time friend. The March warden was just about send back a zinger of his own when the doors to the dining hall opened and a contingent of 20 new arrivals entered.

“Look Ada!” Estel called out. As the child pointed towards the doorway, diners in the hall slowly stopped eating and began to get to their feet. The arrivals moved further into the hall and it became apparent that they were dirty and sweaty, the dust from the trail covering their clothes and boots. When the last one entered the hall, scattered applause began on the fringes of the room, applause that built to a crescendo, accompanied by shouts of praise and appreciation. The last few days had been rough ones and word had spread quickly throughout Imladris of the attacks and the impending danger to all in the house. When the patrols were sent out to warn kings Thranduil and Thengel and to retrieve the outpost sentries, many prayers were sent along with them. Now they were back, they were home, dirty, weary, and hungry – but home nonetheless.

“Look Ada…” Estel cried, “Da Warriors!”


Chapter 55 - Homecoming

Lord Elrond rose from his seat and, followed by Glorfindel, made his way to the center of the room. Considering that his warriors were now surrounded by their people, it was no easy feat. Laughing and smiling, glad to see everyone safe and accounted for, they crowded round the elves thankful for their safe return. As the great lord approached, the residents began to step back to allow his passage, finally reaching Braneth, his Captain for patrols, he opened his arms and drew him into a tight embrace. “Everything appears to have gone well? he questioned. “Is everyone all right?”

“Yes Milord, we are all fine, a little tired…”

“And very hungry,” Golros added to the amused laughter of those gathered.

“But we are all fine…we met the others on the trail,” Braneth continued, “Mindor has brought back the herb you wanted from Rohan.”

“Excellent…come, sit, you must all be exhausted after such a ride. Menwen, bring basins of hot water and soap that they may wash their hands and faces of the trail before they eat.”

“Yes milord,” the helper said as she ran off towards the kitchens.

“Olmarth, please take these herbs to Udalin and Elwaith in the infirmary, they have been waiting anxiously for them, tell them I will be along shortly, as soon as I have heard Braneth’s report.”

Stepping forward from the crowd Analdil was the next to address their lord, “And King Thranduil has sent not only his thanks for the warning but this…,” the room grew quiet as he reached inside his doublet and produced the book, wrapped in a gold colored cloth with the insignia of the king affixed to it. “He believes this book may hold the key to the destruction of the beast. He said if there is anyone on Arda who can decipher the clues it would be Lord Erestor.”
Elrond took the book between his hands, and held it almost reverently. Running his palm over the King’s seal he offered up a silent prayer of thanks and then without looking up spoke softly to his seneschal, who he knew would not be far from his side.

“Erestor…”

“I am here Milord…”

“Thranduil believes this holds the answers we seek.”

“If they are contained inside this book I will find them…I will not rest until I do, you have my word.”

Passing the book to the waiting counselor, Elrond and the people of Imladris watched as Erestor hurried from the room to his study. As he passed through the entryway, Elrond called out two names, “Laelas…Tarion,” and then nodded in the direction Erestor had taken. Without a moment’s hesitation, the two members of Elrond’s personal guard crossed their hands over their hearts saluting Lord Elrond, then quickly followed the exotic seneschal from the room. They were close to ending this now, and Elrond would take no chances; Erestor would be guarded, kept safe at all cost until this crisis was over.

He looked around the room at all the expectant faces, these were his people, they looked to him to set the example, not only for the evening, but also for their lives. Drawing a cleansing breath the elf lord exhaled and forced a smile to his face.

“Everyone please, all is well, go back to your dinner, musicians…please continue with the music. Nilya, ladies, please…fill these tables with food, we have hungry elves to feed,” he said smiling.

The warriors moved towards their tables and Estel’s eyes were as wide as saucers. He didn’t often get a chance to see all the warriors in the house at the same time, and certainly not all of them at dinner. With his father, Erestor and Glorfindel gone from the table, Estel scooted down and scurried over to his brothers. Climbing up onto Elladan’s lap, the questions, as usual, began non-stop.

“Dan, where are Ada and Glorfy going?”

“They are going to the healing wing little brother, Ada has just received some medicine he has been waiting for…now he will go and mix it for his patients.”

“Can I go too, Ada pwamiced to show me how to mix da tea, can I go?”

“Not this time Estel, Adar has a lot of work to do and some very sick patients, he will not have time to teach a would be nestron tonight.”

“But why are Braneth and Glorfy going…dey are not nestron?”

“I know little one but Adar must hear Braneth’s report and Glorfindel is our Commander so he must go and hear it as well. Do not worry, they will be back to the table soon, meanwhile…your food is getting cold, come on, let us get you back to your seat, I will sit with you until Adar comes back and you can tell me all the things that Perwaen said about Haldir.”

Tickling the child, he lifted him up onto his shoulders and took him back to his chair, hopeful that talking about Haldir would keep the boy’s mind off the reason why all the warriors were in the house, for he was not prepared to answer questions about that. He was also hoping that when the crowd had gathered around the warriors that there was too much noise for Estel to have heard the word ‘beast’ - that would be all he needed, to have to explain that to a three year old, another thing for which he was not prepared.

Dinner continued with the twins and the Lórien three managing to keep Estel both entertained and busy thinking of things other than the number of extra warriors in the house. That, combined with Estel’s own story of his adventure bunny hunting almost carried them through the entire meal. That is until the child began explaining how he “stood to post” in the kitchen and guarded the ellith. At that point his mind was taken back directly to the one subject that everyone was trying to avoid – warriors.

Estel now wanted to know why it was necessary to guard the ladies in the first place. Was there something inside that could get them? Was it outside? Why were all the warriors in the house, and why was everyone wearing a weapon? Ada never allowed weapons in the house. What was going on?

Elladan could see that it was time they told Estel the truth, he, like everyone else, needed to know what was happening. The eldest Elrondion knew that even with bodyguards as capable as Cilinwë, Haldir, and Rúmil they still needed to tell his brother of the danger.

Estel, like any three year old, was mischievous, and should he, by way of one of his games, become separated from his tirn; he needed to know that it was not safe to go willingly with someone he did not know – be they elf or not. So, with dinner over, Estel sat, for the moment contentedly, on his brother’s lap savoring his much anticipated blueberry pie. His brothers told him that as soon as their father returned from the healing wing they would all sit down, his tirn included, and tell him all about the warriors, and, if he was very good that they would introduce him to all of the new arrivals from Haldir’s home in Lothlórien.

Elladan saw no reason to divulge that the introduction to the Lórien elves was inevitable, that it would take place whether he was good or not. For the moment, it gave them the upper hand with the little quiz master and postponed any further interrogation until their father arrived. The most important thing was that he needed to know who was friend – and who was foe, and he needed to know now.

~~~

Elrond and first assistant Udalin sat side by side at the big worktable muddling the herbs that had been retrieved from Rohan. Earlier in the day, Elrond had some limited success combining the herb with Juniper and Common Rue, both plants that proved successful in repelling evil spirits and breaking magic spells. While they worked, Mindor told them of King Thengel’s great concern when he learned of the existence of this killer of men and would be killer of elves. The king, like Thranduil, immediately sent riders to warn the captains of his éoreds and dispatched a town crier to alert those families closest to the Meduseld. The herb that Elrond sought grew in great abundance in the caves beneath Helm’s Deep, and the king now sent his salabir (herb master) to carry back half of it for transplant near the Meduseld so that his people could be cared for in the event of attack.

Meanwhile, Elwaith sat by the bedside of Andras trying his best to soothe the increasingly agitated elf, alongside Vindil who'd kept a non-stop vigil over Aphrod since they’d come home. So guilt ridden was he that he’d failed to listen to his friend’s warnings, he refused to even raise his head when spoken to. “If I had only acknowledged what he was sensing, none of this would be happening…he would never have gone off into the brush alone if I had not been so stubborn and pig-headed.”

So far nothing they’d done was able to reverse the effects of the attack, and hour by hour both Andras and Aphrod were becoming more and more lethargic. Something had to be done now, as Elrond was convinced that there was not much time left for Andras. He’d become weaker by the hour and more and more wan. His body, even the limbs that were not directly affected, had lost their muscle tone; his hair, once sun-kissed and silken in appearance, now had the coarse texture of hay, dark circles ringed his eyes, and the Elven glow that once lit his fair face so brightly was all but gone. Elrond was desperate, he did not wish to alarm the others but the one thing given to them in abundance was running out – time.
~~~

An impromptu meeting was called in Lord Elrond’s private chambers; the time had come to explain to Estel exactly what was going on in his home. At the moment, Glorfindel and Elrond were having a heated debate over whether Estel should be allowed to see Aphrod. Glorfindel’s argument was, that knowing Estel, he might be tempted to wander or run off and hide during a game – placing him in danger; if he saw what could happen to him he’d be less likely to disobey. Elrond however was having none of it; he would not have his child traumatized by the sight of Aphrod’s wounds, it was bad enough that they had to tell him at all, and he hoped to minimize the fear that was bound to follow, as much as possible. While they argued, Orophin arrived with the rest of the Lórien traveling party in tow, the four elves that Estel had yet to meet, Timagol, Ingorn, Malrin, and Elwaith. Finally the door opened and Estel was escorted in by his brothers and his tirn, Cilinwë, Rúmil, and Haldir. Breaking free of the twins he raced, giggling into his father’s arms.

“Adaaaaaa.”

Catching him before he could land in his lap Elrond swept the boy up into the air and momentarily held him over his head quickly bringing him down to kiss and cuddle him in his arms.

“You did it again Ada.”

“What did I do little one?”

“You dinna eat you dinner, you gonna be weal hungry later, tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“Well as it happens young man, the lady Nilya has promised to bring me a tray just as soon as we have finished with our meeting.”

“Iss dis a council meeting Ada?” he asked hopefully.

“Well, I guess you could say that…yes…it is a council meeting.”

“Good, cause I am all dwessed for it Ada, I would have worn my wed wobes to make a strong ‘pression but I t’ink dis will be all right, ‘don you?” he said as he leaned back and displayed his blue robe.

“Absolutely, what you have on will be just fine, so what say we all sit down and get started…”

The warriors gathered round as Elrond positioned Estel comfortably on his lap. “Estel there is something important we have to talk to you about, and I want you to listen very carefully…it is imperative that you do exactly as we say… ”


Chapter 56 - The Truth Will Set You Free

Erestor, son of Núril, the former Lord of Beleriand, abandoned his dinner and rushed to get back to his chambers so that he could get started reading the ancient book. If there was even the slightest glimmer of hope that he might be able to decipher the text he had to give it a try. Erestor had been very lucky in his youth; born into a wealthy family the youngest son of Núril had been afforded the best of everything, particularly when it came to an education. Erestor, who at a very early age showed a heightened ability for language and communication, had been tutored by the finest educators in the realm.

History told that he could speak, read and write Sindarin, Quenya, and Westron and was already negotiating trade agreements with other elflings for toys and candied treats by the time he was 20. No small accomplishment for someone who, to other than Elven eyes, looked for all the world like a seven year old. Núril allowed him to make his first real trade agreement when he was 25, making a deal with another youngster for a plot of land that he turned into a personal garden for his mother. Even then he was quite the astute little negotiator, trading his exceptional ability in mathematics for what he wanted – he agreed to tutor his young counterpart in exchange for the small parcel of land, which the other child would continue to weed and water. Not bad.

By the time he was 50 he’d mastered no less than eight languages and had become his father’s chief counselor. Looking to humans like a 17-year-old boy, he was often underestimated - a situation that always proved to give him the advantage, and his number one rule was “never come away from the table with less than you had when you started.” Breaking even was acceptable as long as you got what you wanted, but coming away with more than you’d given was always preferred. Education and enlightenment “the keys to a well rounded personality” his father used to say, and Erestor’s education continued to this day. He was constantly reading, studying, learning, pushing himself to expand his horizons, to better himself, that he might be of better use to his community. Now the time had come to put the things he’d learned to the test, and he hoped not to let his Lord down. This time, above all others, he had to come through.

~~~

Estel sat silently on his father’s lap and listened as the truth was laid out before him. Somewhere out there was a ‘bad elf’, someone who liked to hurt others. The warriors were wearing their weapons in the house to make sure that everyone was safe. “There is nothing to worry about…,” his father said, but somehow it seemed to Estel that the grown-ups were doing a lot of worrying. Elrond said that Aphrod was hurt, the ‘bad elf’ hurt him, and Estel immediately wanted to visit his friend with the special nose, the nose that could sniff out huckleberries and blueberries from ½ mile away. He could not understand why anyone would want to harm his friend and it upset him greatly. He leaned back against his father’s chest and pulled Elrond’s arm tighter around him. There was a pain in his chest right next to his heart, and Orophin explained that that was what sadness felt like.

Estel asked if he could go and visit the wounded sentry but his father was not keen on the idea. Afraid that seeing Aphrod’s wounds would further upset the boy, Elrond made excuse after excuse for why the child should not go to the healing wing. Aphrod’s condition had worsened, and his appearance was wan; he had yet to reach the degree of severity that Andras was experiencing, but Elrond knew it could be frightening for a child to see. The elf lord was just about to say no again when Estel shocked him with an argument that even he found hard to dispute.

“But Ada…Aff-rod is my friend….he needs me now.”

As Estel sat there with heartbroken eyes, a room full of grown elves glanced from one to another each trying to keep their emotions in check.

‘Who is this extraordinary child?’ Orophin thought, then whispered to Elrond, “The child has the bearing of a king.”

“Good for you!” Cilinwë wanted to shout, but instead he took up the cudgel for Estel…

“My lord…Estel has proven to us, to each of us, over and over that he is an exceptional young man…this I think just goes to prove it even further. Cannot Aphrod be…’prepared’ in such a way that would permit Estel to visit with him? I know he would love to see him Milord, and who knows…it might help to…ease things for him.”

Elrond looked from face to face, each one hopeful, each one expectant…if the boy wanted to go how could he deny him this opportunity to see his friend, ‘after all’, he thought, ‘it might be their last time to see each other before…before the end comes’.

“All right…I will allow you to visit with Aphrod for a short while – but only briefly Estel…and when I say it is time to go you must leave without making a fuss, Aphrod is very ill and he needs all his strength, I do not want you to tire him out…all right?”

“A’right Ada, I pwamice.”

An audible collective sigh circulated through the room as the hearts of the elves were set at ease. This tiny child was one of the truly good things about living in this time, in this place, and they were pleased that he would once again get to work his innate little magic on one of their fellows.

“Can we go now Ada?” the child asked hopefully.

“Yes we can go now…” Elrond smiled, “…but remember your promise, we will not tire Aphrod out and you must remember what we have said about the bad elf – you must not go anywhere inside or out without one of us with you.”

“I ‘member Ada, I won’t go anywhere wit’ out Halli, or Wú, or Linwë, or Glorfy or you - or my brudders.” The child thought on this for another 3 seconds and then added with an exuberant smile, “or Westor!”

“Very good, come then, let us go and see our friend and then you must begin to get ready for bed.”

“Ada, can we stop at my room first? I want to get some t’ing for Aff-rod.”

Elrond had learned that it was sometimes best not to question Estel when he was on a mission to help someone else. Whatever it was that he needed would be revealed in good time, and the child’s surprises almost always had the effect of easing one’s heart.

“Very well, go to your room and get what you need, I will be along in a minute and we can be on our way.”

Grabbing Rúmil by the hand Estel fairly dragged him from the room. “Come on Wú, we have to hurry, Ada will be ‘long in a minute’ and I have to look for some t’ing.”

Pleased that Estel had chosen him over the others in the room to accompany him, Rúmil grinned widely and followed the child from the room. When the door closed Elrond questioned the others.

“Do you think he fully understands the seriousness of this situation?”

“I believe he does Milord,” Cilinwë answered. “He is a very smart little boy, I think he understands.”

“As do I adar, I could see the fear in his eyes when we told him," Elladan said sadly.

“Yes adar,” Elrohir continued, “…he tried to hide it but he was very upset that someone he knew, someone he cares about has been hurt.” “I do not think we have to worry about him going off on his own…and aside from that he gave you his word, and we all know how Estel feels about making a promise.”

“Aye…the little one will hold true to that” Glorfindel nodded solemnly.

“Yes, I believe you right Glorfindel,” the elf lord replied, “very well then I will fetch Estel; Elwaith if you would do me the favor of going on ahead of us and making sure that Aphrod is appropriately covered.” “Apply a light bandage or cloth to cover his hands and the traces of the wound on his neck, I will walk slowly and stall Estel as much as possible.”

“Of course Lord Elrond.”

“I thank the rest of you for coming so quickly, it was imperative that Estel meet you so that he might recognize you if he came upon you in the house, please…go back to the Hall and enjoy your evening. Orophin, Haldir would you like to accompany us to the infirmary? My son seems to have taken quite a liking to you March warden…”

“And I to him Milord.”

“What is there not to like?” Elladan said laughingly as he clapped his long time friend on the back, “with such a sparkling wit and engaging personality how could Estel not like him Adar?”

“All right you two, let us not get started with your sarcasms, we have a lot to attend to tonight; come, let us retrieve your brother and get to the infirmary – it is getting late and Estel will want to spend as much time with Aphrod as he can before his bedtime.”

That said, the elves exited the room and made their way down the corridor to Estel’s room. Rúmil and the boy were just coming out of the door as they reached it, “Did you find what you were looking for son?”

“Yeth ada, I have it right here in da pocket of my wobe,” he said patting his side gently.

“All right then let us go, I sent word to Aphrod, he is waiting for you.”

Taking his father’s hand Estel skipped merrily down the hallway singing as he went; leading the way on a mission of comfort, blissfully oblivious to the music in the corridor. The sound of leather rubbing against leather, stretched to its limit by the muscle underneath. The gentle chink of metal stays as they pull, taut across broad chests and shoulders. The unmistakable sound of a metal scabbard as it rubbed against the soft fabric of someone's favorite suede leggings. The whisper- like sound hair makes, as it’s ever so gently disturbed by the motion of the body moving forward through the air. The sound of confident footsteps and the clip-clop sound of boots on flagstone floors. The child skipped merrily on, singing to the music made by eight of the fiercest warriors in all of Arda.


Chapter 57 - Riddle Me This

Erestor poured over the pages of the book, reading spell after spell. The seneschal prided himself on having read every book in the vast libraries of both Lothlórien and Imladris and on having had a hand in composing or transcribing many of them. However, this was one he’d never seen before and he wondered how and where King Thranduil had acquired it.

The varied text was written in many different languages, spells, and incantations from every corner of Arda. Enchantments from wizards, and practitioners of the dark arts, spells as ancient as the Silmarils and thrice as deadly. He immediately recognized several languages, Nandorin, Telerin, Orkish and that of the Ents. In addition, hidden deep within the pages he found the Mannish tongue of the Dunlendings, a language that was now almost completely lost, with only a few remembered words still in existence. He skimmed quickly through the yellowed brittle pages searching for the spell, then finally he found it, a language he’d never seen before and one he could not read, at least not yet. There, printed on the pages was the answer they’d searched for, now all he had to do was decipher it.

Vmx ryro og qigmV VmyV bxqrs yuu digmV, upoq yod smyuu rxscxqr,
Vmx spxyr, Vmx boj, Vmx gydqVdxV sVroqg smydu gour ys yod rxgxqr.
Oqx by oqx, Vmxq by Vmx Vxqs yodr oiqgroms smydu sdbsirx
DqViu Vmx Oiqg is givxq gorVm jiVm qo pdycx dxgV Vo mirx.
Xvid, smyud rxigq dpoq Vmx Vmroqx og gxqxryVioqs pysV
Vmx ryy Vmx dysV yqr oqdy Oiqg is givxq dp yV dysV.
Qo pojxr sxV dpoq Vmis dyqr, qo migmV, qo yrmy sVroqg
Jidu sVyy Vmx giqyd jdrgmxqV, or byy Vmx mouqrs gor uoqg.
Qo sVyqryrr smyud proVxcV yod, qo smixdr rxgxqr yodr sodu.
DxsV yx cyq giqr Vmx yqsjxr Vo Vmx rirrdx I myvx Vodr.
Yrrojs spdiqVxr, bojs jidu brxyo, smixdrs qo goor ro yod,
DqViu yod giqr Vmx sjorr VmyV qdyoxs, Vmx bdyrx boVm digmV yqr Vrdx.
Vmx mxyr modrs yud Vmx yqsjxrs; Vmx xyxs smyud Vyox Vmx sodu
Vmx sxysoqxr jyrrior quyvxrs jiVmodV Vmx sjorr Vo modr.
Vmx bory Vyoxs Vmx xssxqcx, Vmx digmV qo morx Vo sxx,
SxpyryVx Vmx rxysoq yqr iV jidu bx ys mxyqV Vo bx.

The passage was gibberish. A tangled conglomeration that resembled no tongue with which he was familiar “It is going to be a very long night” he said aloud, then stood and crossed the room to the bookshelves on the opposite wall. Removing several large tomes from the shelves he went back to his desk and prepared to work. Positioning a large stack of parchment to his right and his inkwell to his left he poured himself a glass of wine and began what would undoubtedly be the tedious task of making sense out of nonsense.

~~~~~~~~
Elwaith speedily made his way through the halls of the Last Homely House heading for the infirmary. Reaching the end of the hallway he heard fast approaching footsteps behind him. Turning quickly in the dimly lit corridor he drew his short sword from its sheath and prepared to defend himself. As his pursuer grew closer, he breathed a sigh of relief, immediately recognizing the massive physique of his travel companion Timagol.

“Tima?”

“Yes tis I my friend, hold your step, I will accompany you to the healing ward. We have not had much time to talk privately since we arrived, I am always loathe to say anything of a personal nature in front of Udalin - and I was wondering how you were feeling after such a long journey…I know you are not used to such prolonged travel and you seemed somewhat weakened earlier when we tended Andras. How are you feeling on this glorious night?”

“Much better thank you, now that I am somewhat rested and finally clean,” he smiled. “I do not think that I have ever slept so comfortably. Mind you now, I am not complaining about our home in Lórien, it is quite beautiful, and I do not think I would trade it for anything; but I have to admit Lord Elrond does provide a most luxurious “experience” here in Imladris. I cannot remember when I have ever felt so ‘pampered’.”

Timagol’s broad smile lit his face, “Ah, that would no doubt be in part to Lord Erestor I would guess?”

“Indeed! Tima you should see the sammoth he provided for me; it has everything I could ever need, why I do not even have to leave the room if I want to experiment with my herbs; he thought of everything, books, work space, everything! And the bath…did I mention the bath? Tima I have my own private bath!” he said excitedly.

The sound of Timagol’s soothing baritone laughter filled the corridor as he draped an arm on Elwaith’s shoulder. “Yes my friend, I can imagine that Erestor has taken care to know all your needs before you even had a chance to voice them…he has been caring for others for a long time, and he is very good at what he does.”

“I should say he is, why he even knew what bath oils I preferred…and there were candles…did I mention the scented candles? Well, they were everywhere; I tell you Tima it was wonderful, absolutely wonderful!”

“Well I am glad he is taking such good care of you Waith, you deserve it.”

“Unfortunately he seems to be the only one who thinks so.”

“What do you mean? Surely you do not suggest that Lord Elrond…”

“Oh no,” the nestron answered quickly, “the Lord Elrond has been nothing but kindness to me…it is his second, Udalin, who chafes to make my days here miserable.”

“Oh, him, I would not waste sleep worrying over his ill-conceived opinions Waith; I am sure Lord Elrond sees him truly for what he is…personally, methinks him troubled, thankfully we have brought with us the solution to that dilemma.”

“And what be that?”

“Phin.”

Elwaith smiled, thinking to himself that of course Timagol was correct; they had in fact brought the solution with them.

“I am sure,” Tima continued, “our Phin will have him sorted out in no time.”

“From your mouth to Eru’s ear,” Elwaith laughed, “and it could not happen to a nicer elf.”

The two continued down the corridor to the infirmary their laughter buoying Elwaith’s spirits. Truth be told the young nestron did not look forward to any additional interaction with Udalin, for the elf was as sour of disposition as a toothless beaver and twice as ornery. Crossing the threshold of the healing room, they were momentarily stopped by the sentry on duty, but then were allowed to enter. Udalin looked up only briefly at their passing until he saw Elwaith approaching the bed of Aphrod, and then it was as if the Flame of Udûn was re-lit. Waith retrieved a stack of folded clean cloths from a table at the side of the room and now touched Vindil gently on the shoulder, asking him to move over so he could sit down on the young sentry’s bed. Rushing over, Udalin made his displeasure at seeing Elwaith with his patient known.

“What do you think you are doing?” he demanded. “Aphrod is my patient, and I will tend to his needs should they arise.”

“I am sure you will,” Elwaith said calmly, “however, in the meantime I am following the instructions of Lord Elrond…”

“Lord Elrond…what are you talking about?” the agitated elf interrupted, “Lord Elrond has left Aphrod to my care – he said nothing of you tending to him.”

Timagol’s anger was right at the boiling point, he was tired of the disrespectful demeanor of this elf, he did not mind so much that the elf talked down to him, but the way he spoke to Elwaith could not be tolerated. In Lothlórien Elwaith would be treated with the utmost respect, not only for his expertise as a healer but because he had earned that respect through centuries of hard work. Stepping in between the two healers he defended his friend’s actions while the sentry Vindil looked on in surprise and shock.

”That is because he only made the request a few minutes ago…the lord wishes to bring Estel to see Aphrod, and he does not wish the child to be frightened by the sight of his wounds. He has sent Master Elwaith to dress the wounds before the child’s arrival.”

“Why would he not have just asked me to do it?” questioned an angry Udalin.

“Perhaps,” Elwaith spoke up “…perhaps he is under the impression that he does not need your approval of how and why he does things…perhaps that is your answer Udalin.”

At that moment Glorfindel and Elladan walked through the door with Elrohir on their heels. Catching the tail end of the conversation the commander spoke, “Is there a problem here?” Udalin’s countenance changed instantly, “No milord,” he smiled reassuringly, “only trying to establish whose patient this is…our visitor Elwaith…does not seem to be familiar with the hierarchy here in the infirmary – I was attempting to clarify that for him.”

“You were attempting to bully him – as you do all others who enter these rooms,” Timagol boomed.

“Enough!” Glorfindel ordered. “Udalin, stand aside, I will speak to you later – Master Elwaith finish your task, Lord Elrond approaches with Estel, I will not have either of them subjected to this foolishness.”

“What foolishness would that be Glorfindel?”

The group turned to find Elrond standing in the doorway with Estel at his side.

“Nothing of consequence Milord, just a mild difference of opinion, all is straightened out now – correct?”

The three elves answered almost in unison, “Yes Lord Glorfindel,” and the golden lord nodded at them curtly, his displeasure still evident in his eyes. As Udalin moved off to the side, Elwaith quickly draped Aphrod’s neck with several clean white cloths, and carefully positioned the elf’s bandaged hands beneath the blankets. Gently patting the young elf on the chest he whispered to him, “Lord Elrond has brought young Estel to visit with you,” then gracefully moved away.

Elrond slowly led Estel to the injured elf’s bedside and the child’s eyes grew wide with apprehension. In the past Estel had seen his brothers and other warriors with injuries and occasionally with bandages, but they were always sitting up in bed or walking around, and always in good spirits. The sight of his friend in such a weakened condition was scary and the child turned, glancing up at his father with a questioning look. Elrond nodded reassuringly at him and gently nudged him forward toward the bed. Placing his hands on the edge of the bed Estel leaned over as far as he could and called the Elf’s name. “Aff-rod?” Slowly the ailing elf opened his eyes and seeing Estel, a weak smile lit his face, and he called the child by his pet name, “Niben Rein” (Little Footprint).

“Ada said you were not feeling well, dat you got hurt by some one weally bad, so I came to visit wit’ you and…and to say…I am sorry dat you got hurt.”

The heavily sedated elf could barely keep his eyes open, but he understood and appreciated what the youngster was trying to do. “Thank you little one,” the elf said in a raspy voice, “…I must admit I have missed our talks…when this is all over you and I shall have to finish hunting for berries.”

The child’s face brightened noticeably as he informed the sentry that the ellith, led by Lady Nilya had secured the berries in question and that the great lady had made, as he put it, “a whole bunch of pies.” He then proceeded to educate the Lothlórien elves about Aphrod’s famous nose. The elf and the child continued their conversation for another ten minutes or so and then Elrond stepped forward gently placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Estel…it is time to go son, Aphrod tires, and we must let him get his sleep so that he can get well.”

“M’kay Ada,” the child responded, then turning back to the bed said, “Aff, I hafta go now, so you can get some sleep, but I have some t’ing for you.” Reaching into his pocket the child pulled out his much beloved rabbit Niphredil. “Nif an I had a talk and he said he would like to stay wit’ you until you feel better, dat way he can watch over you like he does for me, an keep all the bad t’ings away.” Kissing the rabbit on the top of his head the boy placed the barely-stuffed stuffed animal on Aphrod’s pillow, leaned in, and kissed the elf on his cheek. “Good night Aff,” he said softly, “sweet dweams, an don’ you worry ‘bout any t’ing…Nif will take good care of you.”

Turning, he took his father’s hand and allowed himself to be led from the room. Glancing back just before he got to the door he waved goodbye to Aphrod and then disappeared through the door with his father. Aphrod watched as Elrond led Estel away, the boy holding tightly to his father’s hand, turned halfway 'round waving goodbye with the other.

‘Would that I could walk out of here with you,’ the sentry thought. Closing his eyes a single crystal tear rolled down onto his pillow as he turned his head and deeply inhaled the lingering scent of the child on the toy rabbit.


Chapter 58 - The Best Laid Plans

The wind whipped steadily through the underbrush just outside the gates of the Last Homely House. After another torrential rainstorm, a heavy fog had settled over the grounds and visibility was decidedly diminished. Ecthíras, the Captain for the Gate had doubled the patrols surrounding the house and pairs of well-armed, armor-clad sentries roamed the grounds at regular intervals. Inside, Erestor studied diligently, trying to find the answer they needed so desperately, while outside, evil secreted itself in the trees, watching the sentries and waiting for an opening.
~~~~~~~

Leaving the healing wing, the twins, and Glorfindel adjourned to the Hall of Fire, while Orophin and Rúmil elected to stay and sit a while with Andras. Elrond, noticing his friend’s fatigue, overruled Cilinwë’s objections and gave him leave from his duties for the rest of the evening, urging him to join the festivities in the hall. With much trepidation the Captain of Elrond’s personal guard finally acquiesced, he had an uneasy feeling, and did not wish to be separated from his Lord. Elrond however, was firm, and he finally convinced the sword master that he was quite able to take care of himself should the need arise, and further that he would be perfectly fine with Haldir at his side for the short time it would take to ready Estel for bed. It was his intention to bathe Estel, then dress him in his nightclothes, and allow the child to play for a bit under Haldir’s watchful eye. Meanwhile he would return to the Hall for a long held tradition, to join in the last song of the evening. He would then say his good nights and he and Estel would turn in for the night. It was a simple plan, but one that would go amiss very quickly.

As Estel splashed in the tub his father poured warm water over his head to rid him of the soap in his hair. The child giggled and squealed with joy “Again ada, do it again! Iss like da falls ada, down at the brew-in.”

“That is Brue-nen Estel, Bruinen.”

However, the child paid no heed, and just continued splashing and laughing as those his age are wont to do.

“Watch ada, I swimmin’, see?”

Elrond just shook his head, they really would have to do something about the child’s diction, but that could wait until another day, tomorrow was Estel’s birthday and he would not burden the boy with lectures on diction and pronunciation so close to his special day. As the two continued their nightly ritual, Haldir walked out onto the terrace and leaned against the balustrade. Staring out at the trees, he noticed that the fog was slowly beginning to lift and the ground cover in the garden could again be seen. The whole thing gave the place a nether-worldly appearance and the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. That thing was out there, somewhere in the fog…probably watching every move they made…he would have to be especially careful now he thought, it was bound to make a move sooner or later and he did not wish to be caught off guard.

The sounds of Estel’s laughter brought a smile to the warden’s face, but it also brought a gleam to the eye of the beast; for he’d heard that sound before…in the village, the small ones made it. There was a small one in the house – perhaps there were others as well, and he began to salivate at the thought.


~~~~~~~~

Luck. It was something that Erestor had never wholeheartedly believed in, but tonight luck was with him. He’d managed to determine that the text was a compilation of at least four languages. Each language had been coded, and in turn, the words in each sentence alternated between those coded languages. He had pieces of it now, he had but to decipher the code on the last language and at least he would know what it said. The greater problem would be to decipher the riddle – if indeed that was what this was.

The -- of -- that -- all --, upon --shall --,
The --, the --, the -- strong -- fold -- you --.
One -- one, -- by -- tens -- kingdoms -- subside
-- the -- is -- forth -- no -- left --hide.
-- shall -- upon -- throne -- generations --
-- the -- and -- King -- given -- at --.
No -- set -- this -- no --, no -- strong
-- stay -- final --, or -- the -- for --.
No -- shall -- you, --shield -- your --.
-- ye -- find -- answer --the -- I -- told.
-- splinter, -- will --, shields -- good -- you,
-- you -- the -- that --, the -- both -- and --.
The -- holds -- the --; the -- shall -- the --
The -- warrior -- without -- sword -- hold.
The -- takes -- essence, -- light --more -- see,
-- the -- and -- will --as -- to --.


He was almost there, just a little while longer and they would know what to do to save the victims. Silently he sent up a prayer to the Valar for their blessing, time was running out and they would need all the help they could get.

~~~~~~~

Elrond dried Estel’s squirming little frame as the child bounced in his lap. “Come on Ada, wanna play tag?”

“Oh no…you little imp, you will not have your poor old father running up and down the halls of this house this eve,” Elrond laughed as he set the boy on the floor. “It will do you no good to run, as I have learned my lesson and locked the door,” he said as he dangled the key in front of the boy’s nose.

“Aww Ada, dat’s no fun,” and then the thought struck him, “what ‘bout Halli ada, he is a good runner…I bet he could catch me,” he said, and he was off and running toward the terrace, bare feet slapping against the stone floor, calling Haldir’s name.

“Halli…Halli, wanna play tag?” he said as he reached the terrace doors. Haldir scooped him up before his little feet could hit the damp terrace flagstones. “Whoa there little one, where do you think you are going?” he said smiling. “You cannot go outside like this you will catch your death.” Cuddling the boy in his arms he quickly brought him back to the center of the room and handed him over to his father’s waiting arms. The elf lord wrapped the child in his little sunshine blanket and stood him on the edge of the bed, “See you cannot escape me tonight I have the best warden in Arda to track you down.”

“Aww, no fair Ada, iss two ‘gainst one.”

“Well that will teach you then…you should have negotiated with your tirn as I did, to be on your side.”

“I would have Ada, but ‘Westor forgot to tell me wha’ ‘gotiate means.”

The two elves laughed hardily as Elrond slipped the child’s sleeping pants on him and helped him into a small under shirt. “There,” he said, “all we need now are your slippers and your dressing gown and you are all ready for bed.”

“Do I haveta go to bed now ada?”

“Not right away, you may stay up for a little bit longer while I go down to the Hall.”

“You gonna sing da last song ada?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Can I go too ada?”

“No, not tonight ion nín you need your rest, you have had a busy day, and besides tomorrow is your birthday – tomorrow you can stay up as late as you want.”

“Weally?”

“Yes you may, so tonight you play for a little while and then I will come back and you and I will go to my room and get some rest.”

“I gonna sleep wit’ you again tonight ada?” he said excitedly.

“Yes, that is my plan.”

“Whoopee!” the child hooted, jumping up and down on the bed.

“But for now, settle down and be a good boy for Haldir while I say my good-nights.”

“A’right ada I will, pwamice!”

“All right then I will see the two of you in a little while.” Then turning to Haldir he said, “I will not be long Haldir, I know you are probably anxious to get to the hall to visit with friends, I promise not to hold you too much longer.”

“Do not worry after me Milord, spending time with Estel has been an unexpected pleasure, I do not mind at all.”

“Very well then, I will be off – behave yourself Estel…” he said as he hurried through the door and down the corridor out of sight.

Slipping on his robe and house shoes Estel’s next question was predictable; never wanting to rest he asked, “So, wha’ shall we do now Halli?” he said with an expectant grin. All the tired warden could do was smile and shake his head.

~~~~~~~

Erestor had gained quite a bit of ground in translating the text. He’d finally broken the code of the fourth language and now he was piecing the text together.

‘The dark of night that bends all light, upon you shall descend’, ’Well that certainly has happened, the storm a few days ago and the one again today were horrid,’ he thought.

‘The spear, the bow, the gauntlet strong shall fold as you defend’, “Defend? Defend what? Ourselves perhaps?”

‘One by one, then by the tens your kingdoms shall subside’. “One by one then by the tens…? Are we the first of many?”

‘Until the King is given forth with no place left to hide’. “The King? Well that could be anyone, but I have never heard of a king that hides. Could it mean Thranduil, he is under ground; I suppose that could be considered hiding? And the book did come from him.”

‘Evil shall reign upon the throne of generations past’, “How does one reign on a throne from the past? Oh this makes no sense; I must have misinterpreted the code…”

‘The day the last and only King is given up at last, “Last and only king? But there are many kings on Arda…, unless…, no, it cannot be…he said as his heart beat harder in his chest and his eyes began to tear over, “the last King, hiding?” “Sweet Eru…it means Estel!”


Chapter 59 - Not On My Watch

Cilinwë sat quietly in his room putting the final touches on Estel’s sword. From the corridor he could hear voices raised in song and he knew it would not be long before the last song of the night would be sung, as he could hear his Lord’s voice among the others. That, and the gentle tinkling of the chandelier that hung over the hearth in the Hall of Fire; he’d always loved how their raised voices made it vibrate. Lord Elrond did not think himself much of a singer and only joined in during the last two or three songs of the night. With Estel’s gift now finished he thought perhaps he might join the others in a last stein of ale before turning in for the night. Replacing his gift in its crate he picked up his baldric of short swords and left his room heading for the Hall. He was in such a rush to get to the Hall before the singing was over he failed to douse the torchere that lit his room. Pity, if he had, he would undoubtedly have noticed the steadily increasing blue hue of the sheathed sword that hung above the mantle.
~~~

The fog, though slow, continued to lift and Estel could now see the garden, lit by the outside torches.

“Halli can we get some fowers for ada?”

“Fowers?” the warden questioned.

“Yeth, ada likes fowers, he always has dem in his room – but nobody put fowers in dere today cause dey didin’ go outside.”

“Ohh…you mean flowers.”

“Yeth, fowers, I t’ink ada needs dem Halli,” and then as if it were the biggest revelation in the world he leaned over looking Haldir in the eye and said, “he has not had a good day.”

“You are probably right little one," he said laughing, “today has not been a very good one for any of us.” Glancing out the terrace doors Haldir could just see one of the patrols passing. “All right little one I do not see why we cannot take a few minutes and get your father some much needed flowers. But if we are going to go out in the damp night air you will need to wear more than your robe.”

Grabbing his blanket Estel draped it over his head like a shawl saying, “Dis is how ‘Westor does it sometimes when we go out at night to catch fireflies.”

“All right then, that is how we will do it as well, come along.” Picking the child up he proceeded to carry him down the stairs saying, “We must not let your feet get too wet, else Lord Erestor will have our hides, so I will carry you and you point out which flowers you want and I will pick them.” Exiting the room they made their way to the garden; and under the cover of the slowly lifting fog, the beast climbed the trellis below the library window to make its way into the house.

~~~~~

Cilinwë entered the Hall of Fire and was immediately handed a goblet of ale by one of the servers. The warriors were in great voice tonight and he smiled broadly as he made his way through the crowd to the group standing closest to the fire. Glorfindel was leading the others in one of his favorite drinking songs and the mood in the room seemed decidedly lifted from that of earlier in the day. Everyone seemed to be having an enjoyable evening, but Cilinwë could sense the underlying tension and apprehension. His comrades were trying a little too hard to have a good time; everyone was worried, and that worry would not be lifted until this thing was caught. Taking a seat on the raised hearth the sword master watched with interest as one of the healers quietly entered and made his way to Lord Elrond’s side. Whispering his message in the elf’s ear he just as quietly turned and made his exit. As Glorfindel’s song came to an end, Elrond stood and the room slowly grew quiet. Raising his goblet he toasted his warriors and asked for assistance from his sons…

“My friends sharing your company this eve has been a truly life affirming gift. Tradition holds that I lead the warriors in the last song of the evening but I am afraid that tonight I will have to break with that tradition.” A resounding chorus of nays was heard throughout the room as Elrond continued. “Berach has just informed me that I am needed in the infirmary so I will leave you in the very capable hands of my sons Elladan and Elrohir. I know that they have some …interesting songs in their repertoire, he said pointedly, remembering the drinking song he’d dissuaded Estel from singing, "and I am sure that you will not be disappointed. So continue with your evening, enjoy yourselves, may Eru bless and keep you all, and I will see you in the morning.”

Elrond strode purposely toward the door and Cilinwë abandoned his drink and hurried after him.

“Milord, wait, I will walk with you.”

“Linwë my friend, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I assure you, I do not need an escort…as you can see I am armed,” he said as he patted the short sword at his side, “and there was a time when I was considered to be a fairly decent warrior,” he said smiling. “It is but a short walk to the healing wing and I will be fine.”

“Humor me milord, I will sleep easier if I know that you arrived at your destination safely.”
Elrond had to admire his tenacity. Cilinwë had been Captain of his personal guard for over four hundred years and apparently old habits were hard to shake. “All right my friend, as you wish, but only to the infirmary door, I shall be perfectly fine after that.”

~~~~~

The darkened library was the perfect cover for the stealthy beast. Climbing the trellis he clung to the side of the building making himself as small and still as he could while he watched, almost in awe of his own power, as the vine beneath his hands withered and died. He held on tightly as the patrol passed beneath him, and as soon as they were out of sight he continued his climb; reaching the window he forced it open and made his way inside.

Crossing the room to the door, it pressed its ear against it and listened for footsteps, hearing none it eased the door open and immediately caught the scent of the child. Slowly, it moved into the hallway pressing itself against the wall; the dimly lit corridor offered just the right amount of camouflage, and it followed the scent straight to Estel’s door.

Crouching, it listened for any sounds from within, then slowly depressed the handle on the door releasing the latch, gaining entrance to the child’s sanctuary. Once inside, it continued to crouch low to the floor, the scent was stronger there, and it salivated with the knowledge that this was where the little thing abided. Moving around the room it picked up articles of the child’s clothing and held them to its nose. Inhaling deeply it became excited with the scent, excited and careless.

Outside, Haldir was dutifully picking Estel’s flowers, when suddenly he felt the child stiffen in his arms. “What is wrong Estel, did one of the thorns stick you…I thought I removed all of them,” the warden said as he quickly glanced at the flowers in the flickering torchlight. But Estel was silent, Haldir followed the child’s gaze, and found him staring, seemingly petrified, up at his balcony doors.

“Estel?” he said again, but again no response. It was at that moment that Haldir realized the child was trembling. Thinking the damp night air was too much for the boy Haldir held him close saying,

“Come along little one I think we need to go back inside, I believe you have had enough excitement for one day.” As he made his way to the stairs the boy stiffened even more, and as he placed his foot on the first tread Estel called out, “No!” burying his face in the warden’s shoulder. ”I do not want to go up there!”

Haldir stared at the child incredulously. This was a first. In his time caring for Estel he had never known him to be willful or belligerent, both emotions that he was now clearly demonstrating.

“Estel, what is wrong little one…it is not like you to be disobedient?”

“Let’s go find ada Halli, I don’ want to go up dere, iss bad up dere!” I want ada Halli, I want ada now!”

The March Warden couldn’t believe what he was hearing; could he have been this wrong about Estel? Was Estel just another over-indulged human child? Staring the boy in the eyes Haldir quickly came to a decision. ‘No,’ he thought to himself. Estel was neither spoiled…or disrespectful, something was wrong, what he saw in the boy’s eyes was not defiance, it was fear.

“You do not wish to go upstairs?”

The child shook his head no vehemently, “iss bad up dere Halli, iss bad.”

Haldir stared up at the doorway, and froze when he finally realized there were sounds of movement coming from the child’s room.
~~~~~

Hearing voices in the corridor the beast looked quickly around the room for a place to conceal itself, seeing no place that would serve, it swiftly moved through the terrace doors and was about to take the stairs down when it came face to face with the boy – and the March Warden of Lothlórien. Setting the child down behind him Haldir drew his sword and Estel’s eyes grew big as saucers.

“Who are you?” Haldir questioned.

The thing made no move to respond, only eyed Estel hungrily, drool dripping from its mouth. “I said who are you!” Haldir challenged as he pointed the blade at the beast’s throat. The being stood there seemingly transfixed, eyes downcast, looking ever so much like an elf, beautiful, long blond tresses caressing its back. Beautiful in face but not in form. The fingers on the hands were twisted and gnarled, with long pointed nails that looked dirty, striated, and brown. And then it turned its head, and the moonlight lit its face; it was then that Haldir saw its eyes. Pupils black as the despoiled evil pitch from which it was spawned, and gold flecks where the white should have been. Never taking its eyes off Estel it finally responded in a raspy, guttural-pitched voice that sounded not unlike that of an orc, “I am the destiny of you all,” it said through yellowed pointed teeth “….I am Ivalor.” The warden pushed Estel to the side and said but one word…”Run!”

~~~

Erestor sat with his notations in his hand; he could hardly believe what he was reading. But there it was, the entire riddle – the threat, and as he feared, it was all about Estel.

The dark of night that bends all light, upon you shall descend,
The spear, the bow, the gauntlet strong shall fold as you defend.
One by one, then by the tens your kingdoms shall subside
Until the King is given forth with no place left to hide.
Evil, shall reign upon the throne of generations past
The day the last and only King is given up at last.
No power set upon this land, no might, no army strong
Will stay the final judgment, or bay the hounds for long.
No standard shall protect you, no shield defend your soul.
Lest ye can find the answer to the riddle I have told.
Arrows splinter, bows will break, shields no good do you,
Until you find the sword that quakes, the blade both light and true.
The head holds all the answers; the eyes shall take the soul
The seasoned warrior quavers without the sword to hold.
The body takes the essence, the light no more to see,
Separate the reason and it will be as meant to be.


The meaning was clear, one by one, kingdom by kingdom, they would all be destroyed until the last king, the king of men was handed over. It made sense now, evil reigning upon the throne of generations past - Estel’s throne. The last and only king….a king with no place left to hide. It was all coming to pass. It would come to pass unless…unless they found the sword – the blade both light and true. Why did that sound so familiar to him?

‘Something…’ he thought, ‘something from the past’. He’d heard those words before, something…no, someone, telling him a story…but who was it and what was it about? “Who was it?” he said aloud as he pounded his fist on the table. Speaking out into the night air, he used a tactic on himself that he’d made Estel use many times in his lessons; he recited what he knew…

“It was about a sword…a sword that held truth and light…, it was old…forged….when? Very old…first millennia?” He wracked his memory to come up with the answers, but when one is over six thousand years old, one has forgotten more than most others ever learn.

Again he tried, “It was old, held truth within it…, what sword could do that without the power of the Valar?” he questioned. And then it struck him. “No sword could do that without the blessing of the Valar – no sword could be forged like that without the blessing of Aulë and the skill of Celebrimbor!” The Seneschal dropped the papers and raced for the door, “Celebhîth!” he whispered to himself, “it is Cilinwë’s sword we seek!”
~~~

Haldir backed slowly away from the steps as the petrified child stood transfixed to the spot. This time the warden yelled “Noro Lim (run fast) Estel! Run Now!” the startled child took off as fast as he could dragging his only sense of security, his blanket, behind him. From the corner of his eye Haldir could see, that Estel, in his fright, had been so terrified that instead of running through the garden and around the side of the house, he instead turned right and ran out the garden gate and into the forest. The beast stood on the stairs, gold-flecked eyes gleaming in the torchlight, a queer, sickening smile on his face, and watched the child run.

Attempting to follow the boy it placed a hand on the railing and jumped over it to the ground, effectively bypassing the warden and landing mere steps from the gate. Haldir moved quickly, with one hand he grabbed the lip of an empty flowerpot from a pedestal and hurled it at the head of the beast. The pot shattered into pieces against the back of the thing’s head knocking it to the ground. It was just enough of a distraction to allow Haldir to leap over it, landing on his feet just outside the gate. Haldir spun around and twirling his sword embedded it deep into the back of the beast, twisting it as it plunged. Pulling the weapon clear of the body, he backed away triumphantly, and examined the blade. To his shock there was no blood. A blow that would have killed another had had no effect; the beast still lived; still moved, and was now attempting to get to its feet.

Sheathing his sword, Haldir pushed a piece of statuary over on top of the beast, and then the warden took off at a dead run into the forest after Estel. The fog near the ground was dissipating and he could just see the tail end of the yellow blanket moving through the underbrush, and then it was gone. The trees lent their support and whispered the right direction to take into the night air. Haldir followed quickly; glancing back over his shoulder he could see the beast pushing itself out from under the heavy marble pieces, and slowly getting to its feet; it would be on them soon and he had to move quickly. Trailing Estel as fast as he could he finally caught up to the still running child and reached out grabbing him by the back of his robe. The boy screamed thinking the bad elf had found him. Turning the child, and scooping him up as he ran, Haldir quieted the boy as he tried to circle around the beast back towards the house.

“Shhh little one, tis Halli…I have you now!”

Tears streamed down the face of the terrified child. Haldir pressed the boy’s head down against his shoulder and tried to calm him, to no avail. Near hysterics, Estel could not stop crying, and Haldir was sure that the noise would draw the beast straight to them. He was right. It was not long before the beast caught up to them, intersecting their path, cutting them off from the house. Haldir backed up again, he could not take this monster on with Estel in his arms; so he did the only thing he could do – he ran. Holding the boy tight to his body, he ran parallel to the house. Ducking and dodging the branches of the trees, as some of their lower limbs scratched and tore at his face and clothing as he ran. He could see the outside torches and just past them one of the patrols turning round the side of the house. He wanted to call out to them, but he dared not. As close as they were they were still too far away to be of help if his voice brought the beast to them. He’d seen what this thing could do, and he did not intend for either Estel or himself to end up that way. Weaving his way through the underbrush he ran until he found what he needed – an oak tree. A tree old and thick, with sturdy branches fitted close together. A little boy’s dream – a tree made for climbing. Quickly he tied Estel’s small blanket around the child’s shoulders and told him what to do…

“Climb, Estel. I need you to climb up as high as you can and do not come down until I call for you. I need you to be quiet as a mouse; do not let it hear you. Stay in the branches and I will draw him away from the tree.”

“Don’ leave me Halli,” the child sobbed. The warden gently cupped the boy’s face in his well-worn hands, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. “I need you to be strong Estel, I need you to be a warrior now…we must take care of each other little one, we will get through this – I promise!”

“Pwamice?” the terrified child said tearily.

“I promise!” With that, he hoisted the child up into the tree, watched him climb, then turned to seek out their attacker.

Simultaneously:

Cilinwë, having successfully escorted Elrond to the healing wing, decided that perhaps what he really needed to help him sleep, was not ale but a bit of fresh air. Having been cooped up in the house for most of the day he was restless and knew from experience that he would spend a sleepless night if he did not get some exercise. Exiting the house through one of the garden doors, he was just in time to see one of the patrols turn the corner of the house. Moving a few paces from the door, the fog and chill in the air gave him pause, and he had second thoughts about taking too long a walk. Instead, he approached one of the garden benches and sat down mulling over the events of the day. He could not recall a time in recent memory when so much bad news arrived at the gates of Imladris, and he wondered now if they were truly prepared to get through it all.

As he sat there thinking, the wind began to pick up and he thought he heard sounds coming from the forest. His attention now drawn to the woods, the sword master stood and moved closer to the wall that separated the grounds from the dense trees. He was straining now to pick up any sound that the forest might offer and he thought he heard…crying?” Quickly he moved to the wall and climbed atop it to scan the nearby tree line. Again the wind carried the sound to his ears and he ran to his right along the top of the wall pushing his auditory senses to the limit to hear, what to him, sounded too much like a child.

“It cannot be, it cannot be…” he said repeatedly as he traversed the wall. Fear gripped his heart, adrenaline pumped through his body and his heightened senses were only now able to hear the voices of the trees. They uttered but a single word…”Estel.”

When Cilinwë yelled, his voice was heard by all those outside the house. “Sentries! Sentries!” and patrols came running from the left and right sides of the building.

“Silmo, Gwaenir, check the house for Estel, he should be in his room with Haldir – the rest of you grab the torches and take to the wall, check the perimeter for movement!”

Running the top of the wall, Cilinwë’s eyes were trained on the trees, when suddenly he saw it, movement – something was out there. His fears were confirmed when Silmo yelled from Estel’s balcony that neither the boy nor Haldir were in the room, and Gwaenir returned with a piece of the broken flowerpot. “There is an overturned statue in Estel’s garden, and the pot was in one piece when we made our rounds less than ten minutes ago.” It was all the sword master needed to hear, “Spread out, look for the boy! Search in two’s and keep each other in sight! He then jumped from the wall and headed into the trees.

Erestor raced from his study, taking the stairs two at a time. He barreled down the corridor to Cilinwë’s room with Laelas and Tárion right behind him. Knocking on the door and waiting for no answer, he opened the door and rushed in. “Linwë!” he called out into the dimly lit room, “Linwë!” Finally realizing that both the bed and the room were empty the seneschal turned and approached the fireplace. He had never touched the sword before, it was Cilinwë’s only rule concerning his possessions. The sword had been placed in his hands by his fathers and since then only the hand of his mentor Glorfindel had touched it.

”Ceremony,” Erestor said aloud, “it is only ceremony, and this is an emergency.” Having convinced himself that he was doing the right thing he reached up, removed the sword from its place, and hurried out the door calling Cilinwë’s name as he went.

~~~

Haldir was truly up to his neck in it now. He could see the house and the sentries standing atop the wall, but he was still too close to Estel to reveal himself by calling for help. This thing had taken the form of an elf, and he had seen it move; if it came upon Estel it would be up that tree before anyone could stop it. He could not let that happen, he had to find this thing and draw it away, give the sentries time to find them. He didn’t have to wait long. Somehow the thing had circled around him, it was again between Haldir and the house, and the warden had no choice except to go back – back toward Estel. This thing was like some sinister cat, toying with him, herding him back the way he came. He had no choice, it was either go back or die, and if he died, Estel would surely follow. He ran back through the underbrush keeping an eye on the house; he watched as the sentries jumped from the wall – they were coming, he was sure of it, it was now or never he thought, and he stopped and drew his sword. Halting almost directly under the tree in which Estel hid, he decided to make his stand.

The terrified child watched in horror as Haldir and the beast slowly circled each other. The warden waited patiently for the thing’s next move, and as it lunged at him he sidestepped and swung his blade catching it in the arm. No effect. The material of its leather tunic sliced open, as did the arm, and the warden watched, astonished, as the gash closed in upon itself and healed before his eyes. The thing looked down at the arm, then looked up smiling at Haldir. Reaching out it grabbed Haldir’s left arm and the March Warden screamed in agony. The pain was excruciating and it took all his strength to lift his left leg, kicking it in the chest in an effort to break free. The beast stumbled back then circled again forcing the warden to back up next to the tree. Haldir again attempted to defend himself and swung his sword wildly, failing to connect. It was the opening the beast had been waiting for, and again he touched the warden, this time shoving him back, leaving his handprint in the center of Haldir’s chest. Another scream rent the night air as Haldir dropped to his knees, and in the tree, Estel screamed, drawing the beast’s attention.

“You leave my Halli alone! Don’ you hurt him!”

An evil smile dressed the thing’s face as it moved forward and took its first step towards climbing the tree. Estel was now screaming at the top of his lungs, he too had seen the sentries and with Haldir down, he now called for help. The beast was taking his time, enjoying the chase, savoring the expected kill – and making its first real mistake…ignoring the warden at its feet.

The pain in Haldir’s chest would have rendered a human completely incapacitated, but this was no human, and more, the beast had pushed him, rather than taking hold of him, and the effect of his touch through the fabric of Haldir’s doublet was lessened. There was still enough strength in him to grip his sword, and he did so, striking a blow that cut almost thru the beast’s leg. It was enough. Enough to make it step down, weakened just enough to make it limp back, forced to wait while the leg healed itself. But it was not enough to keep it away for good. As the leg closed, the beast moved slowly forward to deal with the warden once and for all. Reaching down, it moved to grab Haldir by the throat, when suddenly from the top of the tree, Estel’s yellow blanket buoyed by a gust of wind sailed down and covered the head and shoulders of the beast.

It was just the distraction he needed. Haldir rolled his body away from the tree and took the feet out from under his attacker. With all the strength he could muster he again brought his sword to bear against the back of the beast’s thighs, slicing one open and cutting the other almost to the bone. Finally, it was down; he knew it would not stay that way for long but it gave them time, precious minutes…minutes needed for the sentries to arrive. As the thing struggled to free itself from the tangle of the blanket about its head, Haldir added his voice to Estel’s and yelled for help. Neither had to wait for long. The fight, which had seemed to unfold in hours had taken place in mere seconds and as Haldir raised his head from the dirt and glanced over at the now prone beast, he saw the tips of two swords, pointed towards the ground and two feet come to stand between him and the monster

– “Swords do not work,” was all he could manage to utter before the pain rendered him unable to speak.

“Linwë!” Estel cried from the safety of the tree.

“Stay where you are little one, the sentries are coming!” Then in what appeared to Estel to be a hazy blur of elf and blade, the master of swords struck another blow as the thing finally got to its feet. The arm split open, but again there was no blood, and almost as quickly the wound began to close. Cilinwë moved back cautiously keeping himself between the beast and the tree. Again it lunged and again the master danced out of reach and struck again. The thing staggered back as the first of the sentries reached the tree.

“Stay back!” Cilinwë yelled, “swords do not affect it, keep away from it!”

Two of the warriors circled the back of the tree kneeling at the side of the March Warden trying to pull him to safety, but the beast was not done. Surrounded now, it lunged again, this time throwing a handful of dirt in the direction of the sword master’s face. But Cilinwë was too quick, easily darting out of the way of the oncoming blinding debris. Turning, he struck again, this time deep across the belly, watching as its innards spilled, and then retracted, sealing themselves once again inside the beast’s stomach. As more and more warriors entered the clearing Cilinwë slowly circled the beast wondering now if there was any way to kill this thing, when off to his left he heard a voice…

“Linwë!” Erestor shouted. The Sword master turned just in time to see his sword Celebhîth come sailing through the air – sheath and all.

“The Head! Cut off the head!”

In one fluid motion Cilinwë haltered his short swords, caught Celebhîth with his left hand, spun to his right as he unsheathed it, and with one fell swoop - severed the monster’s head cleanly from his body.

“Westor! Linwë! Estel screamed from the upper branches of the tree.

“It is all right my love, I am coming,” Erestor called out as he hurriedly climbed the tree. Pointing at the unmoving body a tearful Estel exclaimed, “He hurt Halli ‘Westor…an an he tried to ‘get’ me!”

“It is all right now love,” Erestor said as he tenderly kissed the child on the side of his face.

Sneering at the still form he added, “He will not be hurting anyone else ever again.”

Still breathing heavily the Master of Swords knelt beside Haldir and examined his wounds. Like all the others the skin was withered and gray and the March Warden writhed in pain as he held his arm. Then suddenly, something none of them had ever seen began to happen; the body of the dead elf began to glow, the skin changing color giving off a pale almost translucent hue very much like that of real elves. The darkened sky began to lighten as what could only be described as the light of the firstborn began to slowly wick from the decapitated body, misting into swirling eddies that twisted and danced on the night air. As Erestor retrieved Estel from the tree they watched in silence as the mist began to rise. Cilinwë backed away and watched it slowly settling itself over Haldir, enveloping him in blanket of white haze.

Awestruck, Estel whispered in Erestor’s ear, “’Westor…whas’ dat?” he asked pointing.

The Seneschal quickly clamped his hand over the child’s mouth. “Shhh…,” he whispered, “we must not distract them…”

Motioning Cilinwë to him Erestor whispered to the Sword Master, “Do you know upon what you look?” The swordsman nodded solemnly. “Good. Do not startle them, make your way to the house as swiftly as you can - have Elrond bring Aphrod and Andras here as quickly as possible, carry them over your back if you must – we have no time to waste for I do not know how long they will linger…how long they will search.”

Nodding his understanding Cilinwë slowly moved away and headed back thru the woods toward the house. When he felt he was far enough away he broke into a dead run, time was of the essence now. If the warden, the sentry and the ostler were ever to be restored to health it had to happen now – and he ran as if their very lives depended on it, for they did.


Chapter 60 - Restoration

Andras opened his eyes like a shot. Moments before his mind had been wandering, lost, deep in a pain-diminished fog, and now he was wide-awake. His room was somewhat darkened, lit only by the glow of a small torchere that hung on the wall near the door. He sat up in bed feeling somehow – stronger, though he could not explain why. Throwing back the covers, he eased his feet down to the floor, steadied himself by holding on to the small table at the side of his bed, and stood up. As he inched his way toward the door he could hear raised voices coming from the room beyond. Someone with a strong voice was calling for Lord Elrond, and another weaker voice kept insisting that they were not going back to bed. As he reached the door he saw Elrond rushing to the side of a young patient; the marks on the elf’s neck were identical to his – he had obviously had a run in with the same beast that attacked him. The great elf lord’s calming voice quieted the fussing assistants as he placed a steadying arm around the visibly agitated elf.

“I must leave! I cannot stay here – I must go outside!”

“Aphrod, calm yourself young one, there is nothing to harm you here, and there is nothing outside but danger. You must stay here and rest.” He motioned his assistants forward as he tried to guide Aphrod back towards the bed, but the young elf continued to struggle, insisting on leaving the ward.

“No!” he shouted, “I must go now before it is too late!”

“Let him go!” came a shouted voice from the doorway, and the occupants of the room all turned to find Andras leaning against the doorframe. “We must get out of here! They call to us…we must go.”

“Who calls to you young one?” Elrond asked confused; but before Andras could answer Cilinwë burst through the door with the answer on his lips.

~~~

Estel was understandably upset. The bad elf had chased and cornered him, and if it hadn’t been for Halli, the bad elf would have gotten him for sure. His friend had saved his life, and kept the bad elf away from him; now he was hurt, lying on the ground screaming out in pain, and it looked to the child, as if a cloud was trying to consume him. Estel anxiously bounced up and down in Erestor’s arms using both hands to pull the Seneschal’s delicate fingers away from his mouth.

“Peace Estel,” the counselor whispered, “Haldir will be fine.”

“Da cloud is trying to eat him,” Estel whispered tearfully.

“No little one, the mist is helping him – see? Look at how it touches him – watch.”

Estel’s eyes widened as he watched the mist gracefully swirl around his new friend. It danced on the air, moving gently over his arm. Estel could see Haldir’s eyes and he could tell that his friend was at peace – the mist really was helping him. As they watched, Estel saw the grey marks on Haldir’s arm and chest slowly start to fade, his face became more serene, and the child could tell that his friend was no longer in pain. As the marks retreated further and further away, strength began to return to the arm. Haldir watched silently as the healing took place right before his eyes. Glancing up he gave Erestor and Estel a small smile as his arm began to tingle with feeling.

“Hold them,” Erestor whispered, “hold them as long as you can…the others are coming.”

“Hold who Westor?” Estel queried.

The Seneschal was just about to answer when he heard voices over his left shoulder. Turning, he could see Elrond and Aphrod, being led by Cilinwë through the bushes. Further back was Andras, with Udalin and Elwaith on either side supporting him. As they reached the little clearing they slowed, each casting a glance at the decapitated body. Elrond momentarily stood still, amazed at what he saw before him. Quietly he motioned for Andras to be brought forward, “Lay him there, next to Haldir,” he whispered “…easy now, do not frighten them.”

As his instructions were being carried out, Aphrod moved closer and sat on the ground at Haldir’s feet. The Galadhel opened his eyes and watched as the assistants slowly moved away, and as they did, the mist also began to move. Gently it encircled the three elves in swirling; life giving eddies, that caressed them as gently as a maiden’s kiss. Never taking his eyes from the scene in front of him, Elrond moved to stand beside Erestor. With his father so near, Estel leaned over and reached for his Ada, asking to be taken.

“Whas’ da cloud doing Ada?” he asked.

Cradling the child in his arms Elrond kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Shhh, sedho (be quiet) little one – that is not a cloud. That is the blessing of Eru – the Faër (spirit) of Haldir, Andras, and Aphrod. Watch now, as Eru gives them back what was taken from them. Watch… the magic of the elves…”

~~~~~


Morning seemed to come faster than usual for the Last Homely House. The beast was dead, its body totally consumed by the flames of a death pyre the night before. Haldir, Andras, and Aphrod had been taken back to the healing wing to rest and continue their recuperation. Not that they got any rest. With the missing pieces of their Fëa restored, the elves had begun to heal. Andras’ arm, though still weak and limp, no longer held the grey withered appearance it had when they rode into Imladris. Once his Fëa returned to his body the natural restorative powers of the elves took over and his flesh returned to normal.

Orophin and Rúmil kept a nightlong vigil at their brother’s side, even though he repeatedly told them to go and get some sleep. Timagol, Elwaith, Ingorn, and Malrin had done likewise with Andras, amazed at how improved he looked after his ordeal. Lastly, Vindil was all smiles as his friend Aphrod regaled him with his story of how he tracked the monster using only his sensitive nose.

And Estel had refused to leave the healing wing altogether; his father was there, Halli and Aphrod were there as were Wú and Phin and he’d determined that the safest place to be was there with them. Elrond was not sure whether the boy was still running on fear and adrenaline or if there really was an unending source of energy inside the child. Whatever it was that was keeping him going, Elrond chose not to stress the child any further by insisting that he sleep in his room. Orophin had had a long talk with Estel the night before, successfully calming the child and reassuring him that the bad elf was gone for good, and that his friends would be up on their feet and back as they always were in no time at all. As a result, Estel had puttered back and forth for the rest of the night between the beds of his friends, and visiting with his new acquaintance Andras, making sure that everyone was getting better. Finally, shortly before noon the little apprentice nestron climbed up on Elrond’s lap and asked his father to keep an eye on things while he took a little nap. Within minutes the child was fast asleep and his father put him to bed there in the infirmary, so he would not run the risk of waking up alone.

Glorfindel had finally pried the twins and Erestor out of the healing wing and away from Estel. The twins had moved as far away as the hallway, a whole ten feet, where they made themselves comfortable sleeping in two of the massive chairs that adorned the corridor. The Beast was dead, but despite their father’s urging to go to their rooms and get some much-needed rest, they opted for the hallway – right outside the door where their brother now slept. Their logic, however flawed, was inescapable – where there was one there might be others…so they slept with their swords in their hands. They understood all too well how close they had come to losing Estel, and they were unyielding – the ‘look’ had passed between them, there would be no more close calls.

The feisty Seneschal had been adamant about staying where he was, watching over ‘his baby’, to the point where Glorfindel had to physically pick him up and carry him away, while Estel stood trying to calm him saying “Don’ cry Westor, I be fine, I pwamice.” Erestor spent the rest of that evening curled up next to Glorfindel on the settee sputtering his defiance at the Golden Lord, while intermittently explaining how he figured out the riddle…

“If none of the swords would take him down, how did you know that Cilinwë’s would?” the golden warrior asked.

“The key for me was the phrase ‘the blade both light and true’, it was familiar to me, I knew that I had heard it before. It was simply a matter of remembering where and when. It was oh, over four hundred years ago, it was on the night that Cilinwë was named to head Elrond’s personal guard. You were celebrating, and we spent the evening with Cilinwë in his chambers. Well, as the evening wore on, the two of you became rather inebriated…”

The Balrog slayer replied in mock indignation, “What, say you? Me, drunk? Why I do not recall any such evening.”

“How could you? You were as drunk as a summer’s day is long.”

“I remember no such event,” the slayer said defiantly.

“Well I do, you were both drunk as a pair of Corsairs on shore leave. You were bragging about your skill with a sword, and he set a wager upon you, that he had a sword that even you could not wield. That was when he told us about Celebhîth – imbued with both truth and light.”

Glorfindel was full of questions, “Once you remembered, how did you know to cut off the head? Haldir had been fighting with that thing for several minutes, and struck several blows to no avail…how did you know how to kill it?”

“The last line of the riddle…’Separate the reason and it will be as meant to be’. How do we reason?”

The light finally dawned for the Golden Lord, “With our heads!”

“Precisely, separate the reason – the head, and everything will be as it was meant to be.”

Glorfindel gently kissed Erestor on the side of his head adding, “I think I could get used to being one half of a genius couple.”

“Hummm…would that I could say the same” the acerbic counselor replied as he bounced a pillow off the side of Glorfindel’s head and snuggled even closer.

~~~~~

With the threat to their home eliminated, preparations for Estel’s party were underway and the elves were in good spirits. The Lady Nilya had mobilized her army of helpers, and decorations in both the dining hall and the Hall of Fire were in full swing. The dinner she was preparing made previous night’s meals look like picnic lunches, and she was just putting the finishing touches, little blueberry flowers, on Estel’s cake. Throughout the house warriors were pulling their best clothing out of their wardrobes and making ready for the festivities, and Estel slept the sleep of the peaceful.

~~~~~

Six o’clock, and Estel’s birthday party was in full swing. The musicians were playing, people were dancing, and in general everyone was having a good time. Estel had opened dozens of gifts, and although he was enjoying the party he was somewhat distracted. Looking around the room he could see that two of his favorite people were missing, and he continued to ask after them.

“Ada, where are Halli and Linwë? Are dey not coming?”

“They will be here soon ion nín, they had something they needed to do.”

Another half an hour went by and Estel was beginning to worry, it seemed as though his friends did not plan to attend his party, and the little one’s shoulder’s began to slump. Just when he thought that all hope was lost, the doors to the dining room opened and on the other side stood Haldir and Cilinwë. The musician’s immediately began to play a victory song, one that was often used after the last alliance, and the two strode into the room side by side. The Imladris residents took to their feet and the applause and shouts left no doubt that they felt honored by the presence of the two warriors.

Estel was off his seat and running towards them before anyone could stop him, “Linwë! Halli!” he called out joyfully, “I dinna t’ink you were gonna come, what took you so long?” he said as he wrapped himself around their knees.

“Well, we were just following your example Estel.”

As the child looked at them quizzically, Haldir smiled and said, “We wanted to make an entrance.”

Haldir’s arm was in a sling, and you could tell that he was not fully recovered, but the March Warden still stood proudly in the center of the room. Cilinwë picked the boy up saying, “We would not have missed this night for the world little one, not for all of Arda.”

Looking around the room Cilinwë raised his hand and asked for silence. Aphrod and Andras watched from the comfort of two oversized settees that had been especially cushioned and prepared for them at the side of the room. While everyone else looked on, Haldir signaled his brothers, and Orophin and Rúmil stepped forward bringing a stool and carrying a long package – a gift, wrapped in the blue and gold colors of Cilinwë’s house.

Setting the child atop the stool Rúmil spoke for them saying, “Last night you prevented the person most dear to us in all of Arda from being taken away…you saved our brother’s life little one, and we are forever in your debt. If there is ever a time when you need our help, know that we will be there to fight alongside you.” Orophin then stepped forward with the box and presented it to the child adding, “A worthy gift from Imladris’ Master of Swords,” he then bowed and backed away.

The boy tore into the cloth, pulling it quickly aside and opening the box to reveal the miniature sword – exact in every detail, complete with sheath, mithril inlays on the wooden handle, and intricately woven silver puzzle chains on each side of the hilt - chains that, unless unhooked, prevented it from being unsheathed, just like Cilinwë's.

Estel was speechless, well, almost. “Ada look, I have a sword, Linwë gave me a sword, look ada iss just like his…iss just like Linwë’s ada!” Elrond, the twins, Glorfindel and Erestor all crowded around admiring the boy’s gift, while Cilinwë showed him how to unlock the chains. Estel now sat stabbing the sword into the air, then Haldir spoke and the room grew quiet again.

“My brethren, separately and together we have come through many battles, many wars. Through it all I believe we have learned one important thing, that it is not stature, but heart that determines the true spirit of a warrior.” Looking back at Estel he continued, “Estel, in all my long years I have never met anyone with more courage of heart and spirit than you.”

Turning, he addressed the room, “If not for the quick thinking and bravery of this child I would not be here with you tonight.” Approaching the child, he gently caressed the side of the boy’s face, then spoke again. “When you threw that blanket down upon the beast so that he could not see me, you saved my life. You risked your life to call for help, knowing that the beast would find you, it was the selfless act of a warrior, and now it is time to acknowledge you for your courage.”

Looking first to Lord Elrond, he watched the ancient elf nod his approval of what was about to happen. Erestor caught Estel’s eye and tugged on his robes, causing the little one to sit up straight on the stool. Much to the child’s surprise his brothers stepped forward, offered up a delicately carved wooden box to Haldir and Cilinwë, and then crossed their hearts with their hands and bowed, saluting their brother. Stepping forward Elrond added his blessing to what was about to happen.

“Estel…this day you join an elite group of individuals, those tasked with the most important job anyone could ever have – to protect and serve the people of this realm. Your Elven brethren have deemed you worthy of the right to bear the braids of a warrior, and I wholeheartedly concur…I am very proud of you ion nín, very proud.”

Then glancing at the assembled party he nodded his consent and stepped back to watch. With Elrond and all of Imladris looking on, Cilinwë opened the box to reveal his mithril comb and brush set, then, he and Haldir, with a little help from Rúmil, began to braid Estel’s hair. One by one the warriors in the room began to line up behind the child’s stool. They each braided a little less than an inch apiece, handing the unfinished braid to the next warrior in line and then took a knee at the boy’s feet. Each warrior in the house, including Ecthíras; Gwaenir; Malrin; Maeraen; Braneth; Illarion; Orophin; Elrohir; and finally Elladan - each in turn, until the four braids were completed. Lastly, Glorfindel, Commander of the Host, with assistance from a tearful but beaming Erestor, secured the braids at the back of the child’s head with a small mithril clasp that bore the insignia of Imladris – and the House of Elrond.
“Ada…” the little one asked, “does dis mean I proved me?”

Elrond looked around the room and posed his question, “What say you my brethren…has the boy proved himself?”

Cilinwë looked up smiling, as the resounding chorus of “Aye!” filled the room, and caused the crystal chandelier above their heads to shake once again.

~~~

Midnight, and Elrond carefully carried his sleeping son into his bedchamber. Placing the boy in the bed he gently tucked Estel’s Sunshine Blankey around the child’s sleeping form and slipped the newly returned Niphredil under the covers beside him. The boy stirred briefly and slowly opened his eyes.

“Ada?” he softly queried.

“Yes ion nín, what is it?”

“Ada, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course little one, you may ask me anything.”

“You will not get mad at me?”

“Of course not ion, why would I be angry at you for asking a question? What is it that you want to know?” he whispered as he sat on the side of the bed.

“Ada, do I hafta be a story teller when I grow up?”

“A story teller? You mean a Lore Master, like Canúmion?

“Yeth, do I hafta be one?”

“Well, no Estel…you do not have to be one if you do not wish to? Why do you ask?”

“What about a coun, couns, what about a ‘sistant, like ‘Westor, do I hafta be a ‘sistant Ada?”

Elrond just smiled, he was beginning to get the picture, “No, you do not have to be an assistant either, unless you want to.”

“Ada, why does ev’vyone say Ima be like ‘dem when I grow up?”

Elrond laughed quietly…

“Whas funny Ada?” the child asked innocently, “did I make a funny?”

“I apologize son, and no you did not make a funny. But I suppose it is a little bit funny that everyone wants you to grow up and be just as they are. Tell me little one, who wants you to be like them?”

“Well, Canú said I will be a great story teller, and ‘Westor said Ima born coun…couns…”

“Counselor?”

“Yeth that, ‘Westor said I am born to it Ada,” he said emphatically.

“Anyone else?”

“’Linwë said I will be a great swordsman, just like him, and Glorfy said Affaloff told him Ima be a horseman!” “And…”

“And what little one?”

“Halli said Ima sentry, an I can come to da Woods of Gold an work right ‘side him.”

“Anyone else?”

“O’phin said I have da bearin’ of a King Ada – do you believe dat ada? A King!” he said incredulously.

“An you said one day Ima be a fine healer. Ada do I hafta be dose t’ings if I don’ wanna?”

Elrond just smiled and bent to place a goodnight kiss on Estel’s forehead.

“No Melyanna, you do not have to be any of those things if you do not wish to…it is just that…”

“Dat what Ada?”

“It is just that here in Imladris we are like a big family, and everyone does something important to keep our family strong and safe. And we love you so much that we know in our hearts that when you grow up you will be a fine strong man who will do wonderful things for our big family. And along the way we will each try to teach you something that will help you to become that man. So…we each teach you what we know how to do best…and inside I think we each secretly hope that you will choose something that we taught you – and do that when you are a man.”

“But the choice of what you will become is yours little one, perhaps you will choose something that we taught you, and perhaps not. The decision is yours to make, and yours alone.”

“Do I hafta make a ‘cision now Ada?”

In spite of himself Elrond laughed out loud, “No little love, you do not have to decide now. You have many, many years ahead of you to make your decision. Just know that whatever you decide, no matter what it is, we will love you and support you and help you any way we can.”

“Pwamice Ada?”

“That is ‘promise’ Estel…’promise’ the elf lord corrected, “And yes son…I promise. Now, enough questions for one night, it is time for all little boys to close their eyes and go to sleep.”

“A’right Ada, I see you in da mornin’ m’kay?”

“Yes, in the morning love.”

With that, Estel pulled his freshly washed blankey up under his chin and closed his eyes to sleep. Elrond quietly exited the room and returned to the Hall of Fire, he had his own story to tell tonight about a little boy who was worried about pleasing his family. He would have to speak to the others about being a little more circumspect in their dealings with Estel, one so little was easily influenced, and he did not want his son to feel pressured to do anything he wasn’t completely in love with.

As the door to Estel’s room closed the little one reached under the covers and pulled Nif up to his chest, it was time to consult his personal advisor, and Nif the Great was ready.

“Nif, did you hear what Ada said? He said I don’ hafta be anythin’ I don’ wanna be. Whas dat Nif? Yeth, I like all dose t’ings, but iss hard to choose Nif. Ev’vyone wants me to be just like dem, an I don’ wanna make anybody sad.”

The little rabbit stared back at Estel with knowing sympathetic eyes, then offered his sage and ‘intuitive’ advice. The littlest Elrondion’s eyes lit up like moonbeams at the ‘suggestion’.
“I t’ink thas a good idea Nif, mayhaps I will be all those t’ings when I grow up, a swordsman, a horseman, a coun-se-lor, a healer, a lore master, a wa’den, and a king; but most of all Nif… he said determinedly, I gonna be a warrior!”


Chapter 61 - Epilouge

As the Last Homely House began to settle down for the evening, visitors and residents alike headed to their rooms for the night. All, that is, except for two very thankful Lórien wardens, one who sat on the floor in the hallway leaning against the boy’s door, and the other who made himself comfortable draping his very long legs over the arm of a rather oversized chair. Little did they know that there were others who were of the same mind.

Slowly the connecting door between Estel and Elrohir’s rooms opened, and a pair of dark-haired, sword-wielding terrors peeked in. Throwing their pillows and blankets on the floor they made themselves comfortable beside the boy’s bed. As the house grew quiet, another dark figure with a simple agenda headed for Estel’s room. Under the cover of darkness the shrouded figure climbed the trellis under Estel’s window and settled himself on the boy’s balcony. As the moonlight drifted slowly across the terrace, he unrolled his blanket and made himself at home on the settee outside Estel’s terrace door. Finally, he positioned his unsheathed sword, Celebhîth, beside him and lay back pulling the blanket up over his shoulder.

‘Never again,’ he thought as he made himself comfortable…’never again will Estel be helpless and in danger’. “Rest easy this night my little warrior,” he whispered into the night air, “We are here.”

The End
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