Elladan’s Trials, For Estel

Chapter Twelve

True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others, at whatever cost. Arthur Ashe

The Best Laid Plans….

Quenthar, frowning, watched from the stable door as Elrohir rode up to the front of his residence and leaped off of Celon.  A bright flash penetrated his dark thoughts as a bolt of lightning streaked across the late afternoon sky.  Glancing up to briefly watch the light show, the Elf’s anger grew.  No doubt the mighty Elf Lord would utilize the power of Vilya, his ring of power, to keep the rain at bay while his warriors fought the battle in the hills surrounding the valley.

No matter, he mused, the battle itself was the diversion and soon it would be the time for his revenge.  All the pieces were in place.  The last time he had made his way up to the buried brat to dose him with the poison and ensure his silence, the child had not even been conscious.  At one time in his life Quenthar would have felt pity for the whimpering, fever wracked child, but not now.  That part of him had been eaten away long ago by the envy that had, over time, given way to hatred.  The hatred had transformed into a monster that he could no longer control…that he no longer even wanted to control.  The only thing that existed for him now was the fantasy world he had created for himself and Celebrían.

Quenthar smiled as he stepped back into the stables where he had happily worked for centuries.  He knew every stall, every horse, and every bale of hay, for this had been his haven of peace.  A small flicker of feeling in what was left of his soul fought for the surface, fought to convince him that he would miss this… that where he hoped to go was only an illusion, but it was quickly snuffed out by the darkness which now ruled his heart and mind.

Picking up a pitchfork, Quenthar began to calmly and methodically distribute fresh hay to every stall.  He would see that his beauties were all well cared for until a replacement could be found for him.  The pang he felt at the thought of never again doing theses simple chores that brought him so much pleasure was quickly replaced by the joy he would feel once Celebrían was his.   “Soon, my love, soon,” he crooned to himself as he moved to brush down the powerful roan belonging to Prince Legolas.

O-o-O-o-O

Legolas crossed his arms as he calmly waited for the twins to recover from the shock which seem to have stolen both their tongues.  He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he looked from one to the other.  “Do not look so surprised, my friends.  I have known you for a very long time, remember?”

When neither twin spoke, the Prince laughed and tapped his foot in mock impatience.  “I assure you, I am quite willing to wait here all night, if need be.”

Elrohir shared a glance with Elladan, who nodded his approval, and held out the note to Legolas. 

Legolas took the note from the twin and read it through, shaking his head as he read.  “I cannot believe this.  Are you seriously thinking of keeping this from your father?”

“Legolas,” appealed Elladan, “what else can we do? I cannot allow my Ada to face some insane Elf that is bent upon killing him for the Valar knows what reason!  You read what it says.  If Ada kills him, the whereabouts of Estel dies with him.  Do you really think that Ada would take that chance?  He would not protect himself for fear losing Estel.”

“Let’s take this discussion upstairs,” cautioned Elrohir, glancing back down the hallway towards the healing wing.  “We need to make plans and this place is a little bit too public.”

O-o-O-o-O

Falathar rode into the courtyard and right up to the residence of Lord Elrond.  He noticed Elrohir’s horse standing off to the left side of the front entrance, contentedly chewing on the ivy and roses growing in the garden.  ‘Noldor!’ he mused. ‘Even their horses act strangely!’

Helcar walked up to greet the Mirkwood Elf. 

“Here,” announced Falathar.  “Lord Glorfindel sends you a gift.”  With that, he unceremoniously dumped scar-man off from where he’d been thrown over the front of his horse.  “My horse grows weary of carrying this vermin.”

Helcar glared down at the unconscious human as Falathar continued.

“Lord Glorfindel says that his warriors have stemmed the tide of the invasion, but he will remain on site until he is sure that all is quiet.” He pointed down at scar-man, who was beginning to moan and awaken, “He is for questioning.”

“Is he one that will know where Estel has been taken?” asked Helcar.

“That I do not know, my friend,” replied Falathar, “but I feel certain that if he does know anything, he will be convinced to tell.”

“Oh yes,” snarled Helcar, for every Elf in Rivendell was keenly aware that the sanctity and serenity of Imladris had been violated, and every Elf took the kidnapping of their Lord’s son quite personally.

Scar-man moaned again and tried to sit up without much success. 

Helcar leaned down and grabbed the prisoner by the arm, pulling him over to where he could lean back against a tree.  With his hands and feet tied, he wasn’t going anywhere.  All the while, scar-man glared up at him defiantly.  “I’m not afraid of you, elf,” he spat.

Helcar laughed. “Oh, you will be.”  Keeling down to the man’s eye level Helcar gave him his most menacing sneer.  “Have you ever heard of the Balrog Slayer?” 

Scar-man’s eyes grew impossibly large and he swallowed nosily a couple of times.

“Be afraid, human…be very afraid.” 

Falathar felt a definite chill travel down his spine.  He watched the man lower his head as though trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and after what he’d seen out on the ridge earlier, he did not blame the being...did not blame him at all.

O-o-O-o-O

In Estel’s room, where the trio had gathered, Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas were deep in discussion and planning.

Elrohir and Legolas were sitting on Estel’s bed and Elladan was standing with his back to them as he watched the lightning overhead while considering his plan. The cool wind on his face promised rain, but he knew that Vilya’s power would hold it back until all the warriors were safely home. He scanned the yard from the balcony.  Noting with satisfaction that Helcar’s men were still in position guarding the house, he turned and walked back into the room.

“It’s unlikely that any intruder could get in from the outside, but since we do not know how many or who it is we are fighting, we must not trust any one,” he said thoughtfully.  “Elrohir, since you often work with Ada in healing, you will stay with him.  He will not be suspicious of you being in the healing wing.  Do not let him out of your sight, and keep your sword close.”

“I will,” nodded Elrohir.  “No one will get to Ada, I promise you that.”

 “What about me?” asked Legolas.

“Legolas, I don’t claim to understand how Wood-Elves can talk to the trees, but do you still think that you can feel them trying to tell you something?”

“It is not like they can just tell me where to go, Elladan, but I believe that I may be able to follow their lead to your brother.”

“Then that is what you are to do,” exclaimed Elladan.  “You will be my back up.  If I fail it will be up to you to save Estel.”

“What do you mean if you fail?” questioned Elrohir.  He did not like the sound of that at all.  “What are you planning?”

Elladan looked calmly at his brother and the prince.  “I am going to fight this Elf.”

“What?” exclaimed the two Elves at once. 

“Are you crazy?” gulped Elrohir as fear seized his heart.

“Elladan,” appealed Legolas, “think this through. You would not fight as you should either, and he will kill you.”

“No, at least I hope not,” hesitated the older twin.  “It is not me that he wants dead; it is Ada.  Right?”

“Yes,” allowed Elrohir, “but this Elf is obviously insane.  What if he does not care who he kills?”

“Then,” Elladan declared, “I will buy Legolas enough time to find and rescue Estel.  And you,” he continued, as Elrohir opened his mouth to object, “will protect Ada in case there are others in on this plot.”

O-o-O-o-O

Glorfindel sighed to himself as the last of the dead humans were laid out in a row.  These were not the kind of humans that lived in the surrounding villages; these were ruffians.  This type of human should not even have been able to fine their way into Imladris.  

Illuin, the commander in charge of border defenses, walked up to stand beside the golden warrior, shaking his head as he followed his commander’s gaze.  “What drove these humans to attack?  What could they have hoped to find in Imladris that they would risk the wrath of the Elves?” 

Glorfindel continued looking down at the human at his feet a moment before meeting Illuin’s eyes.  “That is what I would like to know.”

“Our Lord is not like King Thranduil, who has many priceless jewels,” mused Illuin.

Glorfindel slowly turned his head to gaze at the young commander.  He made no comment, but slowly raised an eyebrow in his best imitation of Elrond.

“Not that there is anything wrong with collecting jewels, my Lord,” gulped Illuin.  “I meant no disrespect for the King.”

The Balrog Slayer chuckled.  ‘Young ones,’ he thought, ‘Elrond is right, the eyebrow gets them every time.’

“Perhaps the prisoner you sent back will be able to provide answers,” suggested the   commander, anxious to change the subject.  “Our borders are secure, my Lord; my warriors and I will remain on alert.  Go back and question the human.”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrond and Sariboril worked at a steady pace.  Thankfully the causalities from the battle had been fairly light, at least for the Elves.  Several humans had been brought in with serious injuries, and it was on one of these that Lord Elrond now worked.  He would save those that he could, and once they were able to be safely moved he would have turn them over to the human authorities for trial.

Soft moaning carried from several of the beds lining the room as Sariboril and her apprentice healers made rounds, binding wounds and splitting broken bones.  Seeing that things were under control at the moment in the main part of the room, Sariboril walked with soft steps over to the surgical area at the far end of the healing wing where Elrond was working quickly to stem the extreme bleeding of the man on the table in front of him.  Sariboril began to work with the Lord with the ease of one long accustomed to the routine.

“Sariboril, I cannot stop the bleeding in this one.  I fear that the arrow shard has punctured his lung.”

“If that is the case, my Lord, then you might as well stop causing him pain and bind the wound as best you can, for you cannot mend that type of injury.”

 Elrond felt great frustration.  This man and his companions had come to attack his home, which had diverted his warriors from the search for Estel, and to make matters worse, he could not even turn around without bumping into Curufin.  Wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm, Elrond forced himself to concentrate on what he was doing.  This was a living being and he would do his best to save him, as a healer should.  “Not yet, my friend, I cannot just give up on him…not if I can save him.”

“Save him for what…a hangman’s noose?”

“The law will make those decisions, Sariboril, not I.”

“And what if he is one who has taken or harmed Estel?  What will you do then?”

Elrond frowned deeply but continued his work.  “Ah there it is…the last piece, and it did not puncture the lung.”  His hands worked steadily as he expertly closed the wound on the man.

“You did not answer my question,” prodded the healer.

“No, I did not answer your question, because you already know the answer.  Your diversion will not work on me, old friend, for I know all your tricks.”

“You cannot blame an old Elf for trying, my Lord,” chortled Sariboril.  The healer looked closer at Elrond and frowned.  “You still have not rested, Elrond.  How much longer do you think you can stay on your feet?”

Elrond’s answer was interrupted as he noticed Elrohir enter the room.  The twin looked around until he found his father and started back to join him. 

Entering the small surgery, Elrohir hid his surprise at finding that it was a human on which his father worked.  “Well that answers the question as to why there are guards in here.  Ada, I wish to help you.”

Sariboril snorted, “These humans not only need guarding, they all need baths as well.  They are stinking up the whole place.”

“Very good, Elrohir,” the Elf Lord continued calmly, as though there had been no interruption, “you may help me finish on his man. I believe Sariboril’s apprentices are in need of her.”

“I can take a hint,” scoffed Sariboril, “but do not think you are escaping me that easily.  I will see that you take some rest, and soon!”  Muttering to herself about obstinate Elf Lords, Sariboril rejoined her junior healers and immediately lost herself in the flurry of activity taking place around the room.  The healing wing at Imladris had not seen this much activity in centuries and she was rather enjoying the hubbub. 

O-o-O-o-O

As the sun sank below the mountains on the far side of the Bruinen, Quenthar moved back deeply into the shadow of the woods on the east side of the archery field.  He had made a thorough search of the area before settling down on this spot.  Now he simply sat, watching towards his right, from where he expected Elrond to come.  From this vantage point he would have the advantage of surprise, for anyone looking for him would be forced to cross the open field.  He looked down at the brightly shined blade by his side and absently stroked its gleaming finish.  He licked his lips as he envisioned the blade covered with Elrond’s blood.  The vision made his heart beat faster in anticipation.

O-o-O-o-O

“Elladan, please reconsider this decision.  Let me help you.”

Elladan stopped and turned to the prince. “Legolas, we have been over this a dozen times. My plan is the only one that gives Estel a chance and keeps Ada safe.  Please understand…I was not in time to save my Nana.  I will save my brother and Ada.”

“But why must you fight the Elf.  I can do that for you, my friend.”

“Because, Legolas, I cannot hear the trees and you can.  I hope to make this Elf see reason and tell me where I can find my brother.  But, if he will not, I will fight him.  And the truth be known, I want to fight him for what he has done to Estel, for what he did to Erestor, and for what he wants to do to Ada.”

The two had stopped just outside the front entrance where Celon was still enjoying Erestor’s prize roses.  Helcar saw them in conversation and called to the twin.

“Lord Elladan, we have a prisoner over here.”

Elladan and Legolas shared a glance at the news. 

“Perhaps he can give us some information on the whereabouts of Estel,” ventured Legolas hopefully.

“Has he said anything, Helcar?” questioned Elladan.

“No, my Lord, but I have not asked him much.  I was waiting for Lord Glorfindel to arrive.”

Elladan nodded his head thoughtfully as he looked up at the rapidly sinking sun.  The shadows of evening were upon them, and he dared not wait much longer.  However, if this human could give him some information on who it was that had taken Estel and threatened his father, then the delay would be useful.

“Legolas, you go ahead.  Begin searching for Estel while I see if I can find out any information from the prisoner.”

Legolas nodded and started to trot off through the garden.

“Wait, Legolas,” called Elladan. “Where will your search be centered?  I may need to find you quickly if I am able to persuade our prisoner to talk.”

“On the rise above the pond on the other side of the archery field is where I felt the strongest sensations.  That is where I will begin.”

Elladan nodded.  With a flash of his father’s foresight, the twin had a sudden terrible sense of foreboding and shivered.  “Legolas, find my brother.”  What he did not add was that he very much feared that he would be unable to help the Prince.

TBC