The Littlest Warrior

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.