The Littlest Warrior

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.