Elladan’s Trials, For Estel

Chapter Nine

All Can Be Hurt

Accept that all of us can be hurt, that all of us can--and surely will at times--fail. I think we should follow a simple rule: if we can take the worst, take the risk.--Joyce Brothers

Elrond walked outside as dawn was breaking over the valley.  He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. This was a time of day that was normally one of his favorites, when all was new and full of promise, but this morn held no peace for him. 

“My Lord!” Helcar called out as he rushed over to stand before the Elf Lord.  “Is there a problem, my Lord?  Do you need assistance?”  Helcar scanned the area looking for any possible threat.  He was surprised to see Lord Elrond outside of the residence and glanced questioningly at Curúfin who shrugged his shoulders in response.

Elrond gazed back over his shoulder at Curúfin and then fixed Helcar with “the look” as his sons had dubbed it.  It was a look that could have frozen most ponds to ice immediately.  “I am looking for Lord Glorfindel, Helcar.  Have you seen him?”

“Not recently, my Lord.  He is expanding the search grids and assigning fresh warriors.  The last I saw him he was going towards the stables, but that has been a while ago.”

“Thank you, Helcar,” Elrond started in the direction of the stables, trailed by Curúfin and now Helcar.  He forced himself to ignore the two warriors, swiftly crossing the courtyard as the wind scattered the leaves in swirling patterns before him.

Entering the shadowed stable, Elrond stopped abruptly, concerned to see a whey faced Quenthar staring down at injured hands in the flickering torchlight. The elf had a bemused, almost vacant look on his face.  “Quenthar, you are injured!”

Quenthar was startled from his dark vision of death by the voice of his nemesis.  Looking down at his hands he was rendered speechless still caught in the throes of his imagination. For a moment he was incapable of explaining the condition of his hands to the three elves now looking at him with questioning eyes.

“Come, let me help you.”  Elrond took the elf’s elbow and led him over towards a flickering sconce where he could better examine the damaged hands.  Gently he turned them to over to study the abrasions as the stable master continued to stare at him in a most perplexing manner. “Quenthar, you seem dazed. Are you injured any place else? Have you hit your head?”

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head.  “No, I am alright.  One of the horses was …was … agitated and I as attempting to quiet him.”

Lord Elrond sighed.  “Celos, no doubt, and it seems he is still making a ruckus. I am sorry that my son’s mount has caused you harm.  Please, come let the healers treat your hands.”

Elrond looked from the injured elf to Helcar.  “Helcar, accompany Quenthar to the healing rooms.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Helcar dipped his head in salute before leading Quenthar towards the Last Homely House.

“Here, here,” Elrond crooned as the turned towards the stall where Celos was still thrashing.  “Easy….easy…hasta,” he soothed the troubled horse.  Celos immediately settled down to the touch of the elf Lord, calmed and reassured by the contact.  Elrond took a moment to pet and speak softly to the horse, scratching him behind the ears just like he liked.  “You are the most contrary horse in all Imladris, but you are also intensely loyal to my son, for which I thank you, my friend.”  He graced the horse with a few more pats along the flank before turning to leave the stall.  Curúfin was standing so closely behind him that he very nearly stepped into the guard before he could catch himself.

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” Curúfin quickly apologized. “I needed to be close in case Celos did not settle down.”

“So now you are protecting me from a horse?” questioned Elrond unbelievingly.

Curúfin simply nodded.  “Lord Glorfindel’s orders were quite explicit.  I am to protect you from anything which might harm you, my Lord.  And I intend to do just that,” he asserted.  At the look on his Lord’s face, Curúfin hastened to continue before Lord Elrond could misunderstand.  “It is not because he doubts your skills, my Lord, and certainly not because I doubt your powers, but your heart is weary and your attention divided by the ill that has befallen your family.  Let us take this much of the burden from you at least, my Lord.  Let us show you our devotion by protecting you while you concentrate on your family.”

Humbled by the heartfelt declaration, Elrond nodded his thanks. “Well,” he whispered, before looking around and clearing his throat.  “Glorfindel is obviously not here.  Let us go back.  He will notify me if there is any word.”

“Yes, my Lord.”  Curúfin could not hold back his grin as he added, “You know that Sariboril will hound you to take some rest now.” 

Elrond quirked an eyebrow at the guard and ruefully nodded his head.  “Yes, I suppose she will.  She can be extremely irritating when she wants to be.”

‘If you will take some rest in one of the twin’s rooms, I give you my word that should any news come I will awaken you.”  Curúfin fixed his Lord with an intense gaze that spoke of his dedication.

“I had thought to rest in Estel’s room…”

“My Lord, with respect, you would find no rest in Estel’s room.  Let those memories lie for now, just until after your respite.”

Elrond hesitated only a second before agreeing.  “I will rest for a bit in Elladan’s room, Curúfin, though my thoughts remain with Estel no matter where I am.”

O-o-O-o-O

Quenthar smiled to himself as the healer bandaged his hands.  He had been working on a plan to get his message into the house and here it had been handed to him by the mighty Elf Lord himself.  It couldn’t have worked better.

He had been in the child’s room many nights and stood over the boy’s bed watching him sleep.  It had crossed his mind several times to simple snuff out his life then and revel in the pain it would cause, but that would have been too simple...too quick.  Twice the child had begun to awaken and had seen him fleeing the room, but his cries had been attributed to the nightmares he suffered. 

“All too easy,” he marveled as he exited the healing wing and darted up the stairs.  Taking the message from his pocket he tossed the parchment wrapped stone onto the boy’s bed.   He knew that the sentimental Elrond would venture into this room, and if he did not, well…Quenthar had a plan for that as well.  He had spent long months working out all the details in his mind.  Nothing was left to chance. .  He would simply make sure that he suggested the use of the elven horses to aid in the search.  It would be innocent enough for the horse master to suggest that Elrond should, perhaps, fetch some piece of the child’s clothing or a blanket from his bed for the horses to scent. 

The message delivered, Quenthar exited the room and headed down the back stairway so as not to attract any undue attention.  He had to quell his excitement as he realized that this would be the day of his revenge.

Passing the kitchens, Quenthar’s stomach rumbled as the aromas assailed his senses.  He stepped in to smile at the cook and receive some of the fresh baked bread for his break of fast.  He was friendly with all the elves who so gladly served their Elf Lord.  Too bad they would be grieving by nightfall, he mused.  Nodding his thanks to the chief baker, he took his bread and a mug of wine and left the kitchens to go back to the stables.  He’d been away from his beauties too long now and he missed their company.

Crossing the courtyard, Quenthar looked up at the rising sun.  It was going to be a beautiful day! Entering the stables, he sat on an overturned bucket beside a bundle of the richly scented straw.  He slowly reviewed all the steps to his plan in his mind as he chewed the savory bread.  On one of his trips to the nearby villages to procure hay and oat supplies for his stables, he had put out feelers for the type of humans he needed.  It was a simple matter to convince the ruffians that great treasure awaited them in the valley, and with his help, of course, it would be an easy matter for them to make it their own..  ‘Fools!’ he thought savagely, ‘their stupidity was bested only by their greed.’ With the security already breached and the possibility of invasion on the minds of the guards, Quenthar knew the Elves would make mincemeat of any attackers, but it would be just the diversion he needed. 

By late afternoon the humans would attack the eastern ridge and the mighty Glorfindel would ride out with his warriors and the twins, thus ensuing that Elrond was left here to him.  In his insanity, Quenthar felt sure that he could defeat the distracted Lord of Imladris, for he was as cocky as he was spiteful, but he was not about to push his luck by taking on the Balrog Slayer.  Only a fool would willingly go into battle with Glorfindel.  Hopefully, that meddlesome Wood Elf and his dunce of a companion would accompany the warriors to meet the attack.  If not, then Quenthar would take care of them as well.  First Elrond though.  The boy would die in his hole and never be found.

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir, Legolas, and Falathar finished searching the last of the section to which Glorfindel had allocated them and were now picking their way down a rocky incline to return for a new assignment.  The Prince had convinced Elrohir to stop long enough to retrieve some fresh skeins of water and perhaps something to eat.  Elrohir had nearly exhausted himself in the search of the pond the night before and had barely stopped for a moment since. Twice he had slipped on the loose dirt and slid to his knees, fatigue overwhelming his natural grace.  Legolas hoped that he would be able to persuade the twin to take a moment’s rest once they were back at Imladris.  He also anticipated seeing Elladan at the Last Homely House as well.  Elrohir was almost emotionally spent and Legolas knew that he would be able to draw strength from his twin. 

As they were descending the trail to its midway point, Legolas abruptly stopped and turned to look back as though to speak with someone.

“What is it?  Legolas?” questioned Elrohir, looking past the elf and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.  “Did you hear something?”

Legolas slowly shook his head, continuing to stare backwards, towards the deep forest.  Confusion showed on his face. “I did not hear anything precisely.  It is….I do not know…a disquiet that I cannot quite make out.”  He turned to look at Falathar.  “Do you sense it?”

Falathar tried to direct his senses back towards the woods, but could get no distinct meaning besides the uneasiness being felt by the Prince.  “No, I cannot. It is as though something is dampening the spirits of the trees but I can determine no more than that.”

Legolas shook his head, frustrated.  “Neither can I, but I feel that they are trying to tell me something.  It was almost as though a hand were on my shoulder as we came down the path.”

“Come on,” urged Elrohir.  “Every Elf in the valley is searching for Estel.  Perhaps it is those feelings that you are sensing.   Let’s go.  Perhaps there is word of Estel at home.  I wish to check on Lord Erestor’s condition while we are there too.  Ada may need me.”

O-o-O-o-O

As Anor crested over the valley a dispirited Elf trudged into the Last Homely House. The soothing warmth of the noonday sun was lost on him as he ascended the flagstone steps and entered through the ornately carved door way.  Elladan was not in the mood to see anyone; had only returned, in fact, to fetch Celos and widen the search.  First however, he was drawn to his brother’s room as a moth to flame. 

Taking the steps two at a time, he quickly made his way to the third floor where the family bedrooms were located.  Walking quickly down the hallway, he came to Estel’s room and hesitated at the door, steeling himself for the loss that he instinctively knew he would experience once he entered.  Elrohir would have asked him why he was doing this to himself, and he had to admit, it would be a just question, one that he was not sure he could answer.  Elladan only knew that he needed to be close to Estel and this is where he would feel his little brother’s spirit the most; of that he was sure. 

He took a deep breath and opened the door.  The room was shadowed, but Elladan could easily make out the features of the room.  Of all the rooms in Imladris, this one had the heaviest draperies across the balcony side to ensure the most warmth for the tiny human occupant who would not be as impervious to the cold as would the elves.  Likewise the fireplace in this room was the largest one in the residence, outside of the massive fireplace in the Hall of Fire.  Crossing the room, Elladan reached down and picked up a carved pony and a blanket that lay on the floor.  He tossed the blanket onto the bed and sat down to look at the pony.  It was a toy carving of Asfaloth that Estel adored.  The boy loved horses, indeed loved all animals.  He had a caring and an empathy for and with animals that was rare in humans, and Elladan knew that he would make a fine ruler some day…a fine king. 

He sighed as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the horse.  He could see that there were a number of small toys and parchments strewn about the room and it brought the wisp of a smile to his face.  He and Elrohir had expected that they would have time to straighten up the room before their Ada got home to see it this way.  How long ago that seemed now!

Elladan reached to pick up soft blankets on the bed…to smell his little brother’s scent still lingering there, but was surprised when his hand brushed something cold and hard beneath the surface.  ‘Taken to sleeping with rocks now, Estel?’ he mused to himself as he pulled aside the blanket to see.  His eyes widened as he spied a fist-sized, black rock wrapped in a parchment.  He knew that this was no little boy’s treasure and his blood ran cold at the realization of what this might be.

He carefully picked up the rock and removed the tie from the parchment.  Tossing the rock aside, Elladan unrolled the cloth to read the message.

Elrond,

The time has come to pay for your crimes.  If you wish to see the human again, you will come to the archery field just after sunset.   

Relief surged through Elladan at the realization that Estel was still alive.  That relief, however, was tempered by confusion.  The note mentioned crimes.  What crimes could it possibly be referencing?  He continued to read.

 Come alone.  This game we play by my rules.

Game?  Fury washed over him at the thought of this being some kind of sick game.  Was it a game that Erestor might even now be in Mandos’ Halls?  Was it a game that his baby brother was snatched from the safety of his own home…sick and possibly injured?  Was it a game that now threatened his Adar? 

We will fight with swords, face to face, for I want you to see who it is who has bested you.  You will fight me knowing that if you win, I will die and take the knowledge of the location of where it is I’ve buried your son with me.  Enjoy your last day, Half-Elven…

Buried?  Horror ran through Elladan and he crumpled up the parchment in impotent rage.  Estel was buried somewhere.  By all that was good, how could this happen? 

He smoothed out the parchment on his knee and read it again. Elladan was almost overcome with the enormity of what he faced.  ‘Valar help me.  How do I find my baby brother and protect my Ada at the same time?’