Healing Hope

Chapter Three

The Faithful Pair

“Courage is found in unlikely places.” Gildor Inglorion (Fellowship of the Ring)

Two weeks later

Beling sat perched high above the ground overlooking the area where he normally kept watch.  He had gained much experience in the past few months since taking his place as one of the border guards of Imladris, so much so that he had been giving added responsibilities.

 His current assignment had him further out than he’d ever been before, marking the movements of several orc bands that had been savaging nearby human communities.  Lord Glorfindel hoped to see a pattern develop in their routes that might allow the warriors to follow them back to their lair; there to wipe out the nest before more harm could be done.  There was something unusual about these orc attacks…something that Lord Glorfindel could not quite figure out.

For one thing, the attacks seemed to be coordinated.  Any level of cooperation was not normal for orcs, let alone the coordination of more than one band.  Most orcs were only interested in the joy of killing, tormenting, and of course, feasting on their kill. If humans or, even more appealing, elves were not available, small animals would do.  More often than not their own leaders were stabbed in the back or worse, if the pack grew restless.

The second thing that caught Glorfindel’s attention was the apparent attention given to the details of the attacks.  Again, it represented a level of reasoning and forethought that was unheard of in orc bands.  The last attacks had come dangerously close to Rivendell, and that was something that demanded investigation, for above all else, the Golden Warrior would protect Imladris and Lord Elrond.  Beling almost worshiped Glorfindel and would have followed him anywhere, so he was extremely proud to have been chosen for this duty.

For two grueling weeks Beling had tracked the orcs, getting as close to them as he dared – often much closer than was prudent - and the mental and physical fatigue was beginning to catch up with him. He had finished the assignment just after dawn and spent the next few hours making his way back to more familiar territory.  Now that he was once again within the border of Imladris, if barely, he had chosen to rest for just a few moments in this tree where he was not visible from the ground.  The young guard did not even realize that he had slipped into the elven dream world when the sound of many horses penetrated his thought processes.

Many horses - from outside Imladris - something was not right about that.  Many horses!  Beling jerked upright as the realization finally shook him from his exhausted slumber.  Faster than one would think possible for a Noldo, Beling was down the tree.  He even jumped the last few feet from a lower limb, landing smack dab in front of the advancing column, arrow notched and ready.  “Halt!”

It took a moment for Beling to shake the grogginess from his mind and accept the vision arrayed before him.  He had only a momentary flash of golden hair, golden armor, and magnificent green, brown and yellow standards before he found himself flat on his back, looking up into the enraged faces of several Wood Elves who were presently holding him down with their deadly curved swords at his throat.  “You dare to raise your bow to the King of Mirkwood?”

Beling swore that if he attempted to speak, even so small a movement as that would cause his throat to be cut, so close were the blades.  His eyes moved to the one who had spoken and widened in recognition.  “Falathar!”

Falathar grinned and motioned the other guards to withdraw their swords.  They did so, grudgingly, for they truly were incensed that Thranduil would be so welcomed.  ‘You and I have done this once before, have we not?  I see you did not learn your lesson.  Last time you only fired on the Prince of Mirkwood; this time you drew your bow against the King!”

“Falathar, enough,” laughed Legolas, who had walked up to join the group and was now offering his hand to Beling to help him up.  “Please tell me that no more of Lord Elrond’s sons are in danger.”  The prince meant it as a joke, but he could see from Beling’s expression that the words had been hurtful.

“Much harm was done to my Lord and his family by one we trusted,” explained Beling, gaining his feet without accepting the proffered hand.  “We find no humor in that.”

Several of the Mirkwood guards raised their swords at the perceived insult to their prince, but Falathar waved them off.  He had been promoted to chief of the king’s guard after he had returned home with Legolas.

“Beling, forgive me,” apologized Legolas, “I truly meant no offense. I care deeply for Lord Elrond and his family; you know this.  My jest was aimed at the twins, and poorly timed.  I can see that now.”

“What is the delay here?”

Legolas and all the guards around Beling went to a knee before the one who had ridden up to the group.  For his part, Beling’s mouth fell open. Never had he seen such a beautiful and magnificent elf.  The majesty fairly emanated from him in waves.  He had strikingly silver hair worn nearly to his waist, and his warrior braids were of an intricacy the likes of which Beling had never seen before.  He wore golden armor designed in leaf motif that reflected the sunlight and accented his silky hair.

 It was only when the elf’s eyes fell on Beling and the embarrassed elf lowered his gaze respectfully did he catch the frantic motion of Falathar’s hand instructing him to take a knee.  Quickly, Beling did as he was instructed, confusion written on his face.

“What is the delay?” repeated the King, and it was only then that the elves rose, followed more slowly by a bewildered Beling.

“Adar,” said Legolas. “This is Beling, a guard of Imladris.  He shall accompany us to Lord Elrond.”

Thranduil’s eye fell once again on the young guard, who almost took a knee once again. Guards at Imladris did not kneel before their Lord.  Such formality had never been required in the hidden valley, and Beling was quite unused to all this formality.

The King of Mirkwood raised one delicate brow at the rumpled and dirty – for an elf – appearance of the guard.  “I see the standard of Elrond’s house is not changed,” he opined drolly.  “You stink of orc.”

Beling’s eyes flashed in anger at the insult to his Lord and the snickers he heard from a few of the Mirkwood warriors.  After all, he had been covertly stalking orcs for two weeks, a job that did not lend itself to cleanliness.   Besides, he had to disguise his own scent or risk being found out.

“Peace, child,” replied the King, silencing the snickers with a glace. “You shall grow accustomed to my humor.  Have you a mount?”

The switch of topics was too swift for Beling’s fatigued mind. “My lord?”

Thranduil actually smiled at the young one.  Clearly this one had been on a difficult duty, a circumstance not unfamiliar to Thranduil, whose realm was constantly under attack from the dark forces.  “A horse young one,” he explained.  “Unless you intend to run at my side, you shall need a ride.”  With an imperial flick of his wrist, Thranduil motioned for the horse that was being led by one of the elven guards to be brought forward.  “Shall this do?”

Beling’s eyes widened at the sheer beauty, size and magnificence of the black stallion which had been brought to stand before him. “Oh, he is stunning, Hîr nín.”

Thranduil’s delightful laugh was light and melodious – as beautiful as the rest of him. “Come then, my young escort, Imladris awaits us!  We shall change from these dusty traveling clothes and be off.  I shall not meet the Lord of Imladris for the first time after so many years looking rumpled! ”

O-o-O-o-O

Sunlight streamed through the doorways and a light breeze made the draperies dance in lazy circles as the mid day repast was being enjoyed by Elrond and Estel.   The twins had returned from patrol and decided to go down to the ponds to watch the fish.  Estel, who would still not go near the ponds or even in the direction of the archery field, had declined their invitation to join them.

“My I be excused now, Ada?” enquired Estel, virtually squirming in his seat in his hurry to be off.

The Lord of Imladris glanced at the boy’s empty plate and milk mug, and satisfied that his lunch was finished, granted permission. 

A smile of pure happiness lit Estel’s face.  “Thank you, Ada!”  He wiggled off his seat to give his Ada a parting kiss.

Elrond returned his son’s hug and kiss, holding on for a moment before releasing the boy with a soft sigh. “Do not delay when Erestor calls you for your nap.”

Estel wrinkled his little nose. “I won’t, Ada; I promise.”  With a last smile he walked towards the door as quickly as he could – without running, which was, of course not allowed in the Hall of Fire.

Glorfindel walked into the room just as Estel was exiting.  “Where are you going so quickly, Little Bit?”

“I’m going to play with Blubby,” called the boy as the hurried down the hallway. “I mean Fuh-luh-fee,” enunciated the little one over his shoulder as he ran through the front door.  

Glorfindel would never have been able to hear him without his elven hearing.  The warrior chuckled to himself as he joined Elrond at the table.  He scooted Estel’s empty plate and mug aside and sat in the seat just vacated by the boy. “I see you have been working with Estel on his pronunciation.”

Elrond smiled at his friend.  It was a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Yes, we have been practicing every night.  He is making good progress, when he remembers.” 

Smoothing the table covering from non-existent wrinkles, Glorfindel cocked his head to consider his friend.  He had not failed to notice the small signs that his Lord was preoccupied.  Glorfindel took note of the uneaten and picked-at food on Elrond’s plate.  “When are you going to tell me what you’re fretting over, mellon nín?”

Elrond picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and then fixed his friend with a long-suffering look “I do not fret.”

“May I join you?”

Glorfindel looked at the seneschal and nodded.  “By all means, Erestor, sit.  Perhaps you can talk some sense into our friend here.”

Erestor set his plate down and joined the pair. He was completely healed from the stab wound he’d received from Quenthar, and was once again attending to his duties as chief advisor to Lord Elrond.  In truth, he was much more than an advisor to the Peredhil.  He had made it his duty to oversee the complete running of the household.   Like Glorfindel, he loved Elrond and his children deeply, and was considered a part of the family.  He bit into a slice of buttery cheese and sighed in pleasure.  “I have noticed that he is fretting about something.”

Glorfindel couldn’t help the snort that escaped him at Erestor’s observation.

Erestor continued to eat his bread and cheese, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just echoed Glorfindel, while Elrond fixed him with “that” look.

“What?” asked Erestor, feigning complete innocence.

“Elrond does not fret,” supplied Glorfindel.

And now it was Erestor’s turn to snort.

O-o-O-o-O

Estel was safely ensconced in the back of Celos’ stall, where he had moved the box of kittens.  The mother cat had not been happy with the move and had tried several times to move the kittens out of the stall and away from the stallion, which was known to become feisty.  However, each time she moved them, Estel would carry them back.  The mother cat had eventually become reconciled to the fact that the box was staying in the stall. 

For his part, Celos was happy to have Estel close by and had learned to be careful of where he placed his hooves.  The new stable master would just shake his head in wonder that the “brute of Imladris” was such a lamb with the boy and the kittens crawling all around legs.  It had become routine for the Celon’s stall to be left open so that he could stick his head into Celos’ to share in the fun.

Estel often brought apples for the two horses and small bits of left over fish or meats from his meal for the kittens.  Occasionally he would wrangle a bowl of milk from Erestor to bring out to his pets.  The boy had taken to spending every moment he could out in the stables; playing alone, save for his animal friends.  He had made a haven of the stall, where he was boxed in with his friends.  There was no doubt in his mind that no one could get past Celos and Celon to hurt him.

Busy playing in the stables, Estel did not see messenger that arrived to alert Lord Elrond of the approaching riders.  Celos nickered softly as his ears picked up the sound of the approaching horses.  Celon raised his head in answer to glance over the top of his stall towards the huge stable doors, before looking back down protectively at the little boy playing in front of his huge front legs.

O-o-O-o-O

Helcar entered the Last Homely House.  He was informed by one of the elves in the front entryway that Lord Elrond was in the Hall of Fire.  Helcar quickly made his way down the hall towards the one he sought.  The message of the approaching entourage had been quickly signaled through the sentries until it reached Helcar, who had discretely maintained a presence around his Lord’s house since the previous trouble.

“My Lord, riders approach.”

Glorfindel reacted first.  “Riders?  How many?”

“A goodly number, but not hostile,” replied Helcar.

“You’re sure of that?” questioned Glorfindel.

“The signals from the sentries gave no indication of danger, my lord.”

“Thank you, Helcar,” said Elrond.  “I foresee no problem, but see that your guards are on alert.  The riders may have wounded with them and be in need of care.”

“Shall we go?’ asked Erestor, rising from his seat.  “I see that the afternoon might become interesting.”

O-o-O-o-O

Estel was lying on his back, giggling as the Celos’ soft lips tickled his bare tummy.  He had learned that if he pulled his tunic up to bare his stomach, the stallion would blow on and tickle him.  All four kittens were snuggled together by the top of Estel’s head, using his hair as a backdrop.  He could feel the two of them that were against him purring though his skull. 

Fighting back a yawn, for surely Erestor would be calling him soon for his afternoon nap, Estel reached up to pet Celos on his long muzzle.  “I love you, Celos.”

Suddenly the sounds of many horses filled the yards outside.  Celos pulled away and looked out as Estel jumped to his feet to see what the commotion was.  He had not heard his father speak of any visitors that were due to come.

Estel walked over to the stable doors to look out.  Across the yard he could see his Ada, Glorfindel and Erestor on the front steps of the house.  Between the house and himself, Estel could see many riders with shields and banners.  His breath caught in his throat, however, when he caught sight of the blonde hair of the warriors…hair like Quenthar’s!  Fear seized the little boy.  The unknown riders were between him and his Ada. 

Panicked, he ran to the side of the stables, away from the riders and his home, and into the woods.  He had no memory, at that moment, of the golden haired and kind Legolas that had become his friend.  He didn’t even know where he was going; only that he felt driven to get far away.  Estel ran and fast as he could, unmindful of the brambles and thorns that pulled at his skin and clothing as tears streamed down his face.  “Ada,” he cried as he ran, but the sound was carried away by the rushing Bruinen. 

Celos whinnied as the boy fled, but no one was paying attention to him.  Undeterred, he did the only thing he could do; he went after Estel, followed closely by Celon.  The faithful pair would not let the boy go alone.

TBC