Healing Hope

Chapter Four

Doing Battle

“Faithfulness lives where love is stronger than instinct.” Paul Carvel

Elladan was laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath and Elrohir was looking at him as though he’d lost his mind.  It had all started so innocently. 

Two Hours Previously

The twins had returned from a patrol and decided to relax by getting in some archery practice.  They were standing in the gardens beneath their Adar’s balcony.

“Why don’t we see if Estel will come with us?” suggested Elladan.  “He used to love watching the gold fish while we practice.”

“That was before, El,” sighed Elrohir.  “He’s refuses to go back there now.  You know this.”

“I know; I just thought it was worth trying.”  Elladan sat on the marble bench, his shoulders slumped.  He looked up at the balcony above him.  “Will he ever trust us again, do you think?”

It did not take much reasoning for Elrohir to know which “him” Elladan was referring to.  Estel, their precious little brother had healed in body, but he was far from healed in the seat of his emotions, and it grieved them terribly. 

“Estel used to look at us with complete trust.  He would even let us throw him back and forth in the air and never doubted that we would catch him.  Now I see fear in his eyes at any unexpected sound.  He spends more time in the stables than he does in his own home because he’s afraid there.”

Elrohir tried to think of something to say that would make his brother feel better.  No one knew more than him what it had done to Elladan to not be able to protect Estel and keep him from harm.  His brother saw it was a personal failure…as though he had failed Estel.

“Estel loves us, El,” stammered Elrohir.

“Of course he loves us,” responded Elladan, “but he does not trust us to keep him safe.”

“How can you say that?” argued Elrohir.

“If the trusts us then why won’t he come to the archery fields with us?” countered the agitated twin. 

“Ada says that it will take more time for Estel to process all that happened to him,” reasoned Elrohir.

“Well how much time,” snapped Elladan, before immediately turning contrite eyes to his twin.  “I am sorry, El.  I do not mean to take out my frustration on you.  You hurt as I do.”

Elrohir smiled gently at his older twin.  “Do not doubt Estel’s love, brother.  He does not understand his fear and seeks to deal with it alone.”

“You mean with our horses,” said Elladan ruefully.  “Estel plays in the stables watched over by Celos and Celon while we ride new mounts.  Well,” he sighed, “it is a small enough price to pay if it brings him peace.”

Elrohir clasped his brother on the shoulder.  “We will continue to love our little brother while he heals, but in the mean time, let us go to the archery field.  You can work off some of that frustration of yours.  Besides, your aim has been off of late,” he teased.

“My aim?” snorted Elladan, rising to take his brother’s bait.  “We’ll see about that!”

The archery practice had quickly turned into a contest, as it often did between the twins.  Elrohir won the field and found himself tackled by his brother.  The twins wrestled and played like they had not in years, needing the respite from worry over their little brother. 

Elrohir ran at Elladan, intent upon knocking him on his backside, but Elladan quickly sidestepped him and Elrohir – unable to compensate – ran head long into the goldfish pond.  He came up sputtering, shock written on his fair face.

Present time

And so it was that Elladan was laughing so hard.  “You look like a great big fish! Come on, little brother,” he said as he offered his hand.

Elrohir took the outstretched hand and pulled with all his might.  Elladan was unprepared and fell into the water on top of his brother.  They both came up sputtering and laughing.

“Now who looks like a fish?” laughed Elrohir.  He playfully splashed more water at his twin.

The sound of many riders caught their attention.

Elrohir looked puzzled.  “Who do you suppose that is?”

“Let’s go find out!”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrond stood on the wide, white steps of the last homely house with Glorfindel and Erestor on either side of him as the riders thundered into the yard.  Helcar and six of his guards stood to the right of the wide steps.

“The Royal banner of Mirkwood,” wondered Erestor.  “Thranduil does not often leave his realm.  I wonder what brings him here now.”

Glorfindel gave a small smile at the sight.  “I see that he has not changed,” he added softly.  “He still likes to put on a show.”

“If he starts railing at you like before, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” warned Erestor.  “I will not have you disrespected in your own home!”

Erestor and Glorfindel had both been standing outside Thranduil’s pavilion the day that Elrond had gone to deliver the condolences of the High King.  Both had heard the unspeakable and unfounded accusations that Thranduil had hurled at Elrond.  King or not, Erestor would have marched straight into that pavilion to defend his lord’s honor had not Glorfindel stopped him.

Elrond spared a surprised glance at his seneschal. “You never fail to amaze, my friend, but peace. That was many years ago and Thranduil had just been faced with the loss of his father and fully two thirds of Mirkwood’s warriors.  I was merely a convenient vessel to bear the brunt of his grief and anger. Let us see what brings the King of Mirkwood to Imladris.”

Erestor shook his head slightly and looked from his Lord to Glorfindel, half expecting to see censure in his eyes as well.  Instead Glorfindel smiled and dipped his head in respect.  He knew, as did Lord Elrond that Erestor was more than capable as a warrior, and he admired Erestor’s loyalty to Elrond.  The golden warrior of Gondolin was proud to stand beside these two.

The group assembled, the golden-armor-clad royal guard parted as Thranduil rode forth.  He glanced around taking in the sight of Imladris.  He had noted, of course, the lack of guards present.  Well, so be it. Perhaps the Peredhil could be so lax here in his hidden valley, but life in Mirkwood was not so secure.

The King dismounted, followed by two of his royal guard. He nodded to Legolas, who dismounted and moved to stand beside his Adar.  Together they walked up to stand before the steps and Lord Elrond.

The remaining Mirkwood warriors dismounted, but stayed by their horses.  Beling slipped over to stand beside the Imladris warriors.  “He’s really something, isn’t he,” whispered the elf to Helcar.

Indeed, Thranduil had changed from travel wear to the more appropriate - to his way of thinking – attire for this historic trip to Imladris.  He wore forest green leather beeches tucked into the softest of leather riding boots.  His cream colored linen tunic was trimmed in gold thread with tiny golden leaves worked around emeralds at the neckline open nearly to his waist.  Softly billowing sleeves were tied at the wrist by golden thread.  A cream and golden cape was clasped at his throat by a magnificent leaf shaped emerald.  A mithril circlet designed to look like a vine rested upon his brow.  He carried himself like the king he was, proud and tall.

Elrond stepped down the steps and dipped his head in tribute to the King of Mirkwood.  “Welcome to Imladris, King Thranduil.”

Thranduil returned the salute.  “Thank you, Elrond.  I trust that my coming here will not be a burden to you.”

Elrond’s eyebrow raised a notch at that but otherwise he showed no reaction.  “All are welcome in Imladris.”  He turned to Legolas who was looking a bit discomforted in the more formal royal wear his father had insisted upon his wearing.  “Welcome back, Legolas. My sons will be most excited by your return.”

“Thank you, my lord,” smiled Legolas. 

“Enough of these formalities,” said Thranduil.  “Elrond, I have come to repay a debt to your son.  Is he here?”

“My sons are…”

Before anything more could be said, the echo of laughter and running steps sounded from the side of the house.   Elladan and Elrohir rounded the corner looking like two muddy, drowned rats, much to the chagrin of their father and the great amusement of Glorfindel.

The laughing, dripping pair stopped beside their father. 

Standing beside Thranduil, Legolas was doing his best not to laugh out loud.  Oh but he was enjoying this, even if he did have to wear these ridiculously formal clothes. 

Elrond gave his sons a “look,” cleared his throat, and turned to the king. “Thranduil, may I present my sons, Elladan and Elrohir.”

Thranduil looked at the pair and stifled the urge to sniff in disdain at their bedraggled appearance.  Were these the famed orc killers?  It seemed impossible.  Now that he was seeing them for the first time it amazed him how identical in appearance they were, even in their present state.   “Which one of you is Elladan?”

The twins shared a quick glance with each other before Elladan stepped forward. “I am Elladan, my lord.  How may I be of service?”  Even wet and bedraggled, the sons of Elrond would show the correct protocol and be careful not to embarrass their father any more than their untimely appearance already had.

Thranduil smiled, daintily and with great humor plucking a bit of moss from Elladan’s soggy hair.  He ignored the slight chuckle he heard from Legolas.  “Elladan Elrondion, I have journeyed from Mirkwood to pay tribute to the one who saved the Crowned Prince’s life.  Because of you, my son returned to me safely.  You have the thanks and appreciation of all Mirkwood.” 

The king motioned to Falathar to bring forward the stallion Beling had been riding upon.

Elladan’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the magnificent animal.

“His name is Fuinur, and he is my gift to you,” said Thranduil, bowing deeply to the dumbfounded Elladan.  All around him the Mirkwood warriors went to their knee in tribute. 

All, that is, except Legolas, who shook his head and rolled his eyes while smiling at the twins.  As far as Legolas was concerned, they were all acting as thought he were some precious elfling who was rescued single handedly from a dragon.

“Thank you, my lord,” responded Elladan once he regained his wits.  “Please, rise,” he addressed the wood elves. 

Elrohir longed to pet this wonderful stallion, but he was a bit unsure of himself around the King of Mirkwood.  The only other elf he had ever seen with that kind of presence was his daernaneth, and she always had a hugs for him.

Elrond remedied the unease of his sons by stepping forward to address Thranduil.  “Please accept the hospitality of Imladris, Thranduil, and our appreciation for this honor you show Elladan.  Erestor will show you to rooms for you and the Prince.  Your warriors will be shown to accommodations by Helcar.”

“If it pleases you, Lord Elrond, I must insist that at least one of my warriors remain with the king at all times,” said Falathar.  The elf did not really expect anything untoward, but the safety of his regent was his responsibility, and Falathar took that responsibility very seriously.  Besides, after what had happened the last time he had been in Imladris he preferred not to take any chances, however much it might embarrass Legolas or even himself.

Glorfindel frowned and started to step forward to defend his warriors, but Elrond’s upraised hand stopped him. 

“Erestor will see that you have anything you need,” the Lord of Imladris said smoothly.  “We shall feast in the Hall of Fire tonight.”

Beling walked over to Lord Glorfindel.  “My lord, would you like my report now?”

Glorfindel smiled at the young warrior who was obviously near exhaustion.  “Is there anything in your report that would merit immediate attention?”

Beling thought for a moment.  “No, my lord, only more puzzles.”

“Very well then,” sighed the warrior.  “Clean up and take some rest.  See your family. You may report to me after the banquet this evening.” 

O-o-O-o-O

Estel was running parallel to the Bruinen.  He could see the river to his side and kept running, following the swiftly flowing water further and further from home in his panic to flee from the strange riders.  He could hear sounds of pursuit from behind him and ran even harder, refusing to look back to face the unseen enemy.  The child was beginning to pant from the exertion.  Sometimes he barreled through a maze of twisting and turning footpaths, and at other times he veered off into undergrowth.

After several minutes of running, Estel was very close to the river.  The roar of the rain swollen current drowned out all other sounds of the forest. Momentarily distracted by the water, he caught his foot in a tangled vine, and his momentum caused him to crash through a shrub very close to the edge of the water.  He pitched onto his face, the fall knocking the breath from him, and for a moment his world darkened.  Estel lay there panting, trying to regain his ragged breath between sobs.

A low, fierce grunting startled him and he looked to up see a huge boar not five feet from him.  The boar had been drinking from an eddy on the edge of the river and never heard the boy approaching.  He lowered his head, his eyes seeming to burn with anticipation at the tasty morsel that had so suddenly been deposited at his feet; he pawed the ground.  With a mighty roar the animal charged.

Estel curled into a ball.

Before the boar could strike the boy a flash of white bore down on the animal and the mighty hooves of Celos struck the charging boar, knocking him onto his side.  Celon moved himself between Estel and boar while Celos continued to do battle with the enraged animal.  Again and again the boar charged and was thwarted by Celos, whose kicks were beginning to take a toll on the huge boar. 

The boar, however, was not without success of his own.  His razor sharp tusks and sturdy, compact body were battering Celos as well.  The faithful horse was suffering contusions and lacerations to his legs, but continued to stomp at the boar, using his powerful kicks to pummel the animal. 

Estel glanced up to see the boar slash open a vicious gash on Celos’ breast. Blood splattered Estel in the face – whether from the boar or Celos he could not tell, for both animals were now bleeding freely.

“Celos!” he screamed as he got shakily to his feet.

 The boy, certain that Celos would die because of him, began backing away from the horrific sight, his eyes blinded by tears, his heart heavy, and his mind beginning to block out the images.  His foot hit the slippery side of the riverbank, and before he realized what was happening he fell in the rushing river.

TBC

Fuinir:  Darkness