Healing Hope

Chapter Five

Evil Encroaching

“Let us hold to the light while we may, for darkness ever encroaches.” Anon

The shock of the cold water hit Estel like a slap to the face.  The child submerged and for several terrifying moments his world was a swirl of confusion as he struggled to find his way to the surface.  Luckily, the survival instinct kicked in and Estel broke the surface coughing up the foul water he had swallowed and gasping for air. 

Elladan and Elrohir had spent many days in the past playing with Estel in the water and teaching him to swim back and forth between them.  The child now utilized every bit of training he had received to keep his head above the rushing waters.  Even with the practice he’d had, Estel would not be strong enough to fight this onslaught for every long.  He was already very tired.

Estel slipped beneath the water’s surface again.  As his little arms and legs became more and more fatigued, his strength waned.  The rain swollen water was so dark and muddy that Estel again could not tell up from down.  His vision narrowed as he crashed into some flotsam being carried along and felt a crack followed by tremendous pain in his left arm.  Just when he felt that he had no strength left with which to fight, a determined resolve from deep within him exerted itself. In the future he would be called stubborn, and that strong will and determination now saved him.  He simply refused to die and leave his Ada. 

His right arm brushed a log being carried down the river, and Estel grabbed it and held on, pulling his head out of the water and allowing the buoyancy of the log to carry him down the river.  Twice he nearly slid off as he slipped in and out of consciousness.  Brilliant sunlight and deep shadows rushed by in a haze of speed and even the roar of the waters subsided as his world darkened.  He cried out as the turbulence jostled his broken arm, shifting the bones and causing one to tear through the skin, but it served to bring him back to alertness. 

O-o-O-o-O

As the guests were being shown to their accommodations, the stable master and two of his helpers came to see that the Mirkwood horses would be brushed down, fed, watered, and settled into stalls.

Aradol had been named the Stable Master of Imladris upon the death of Quenthar.  He had worked in the stables with Quenthar for many years and been as shocked and horrified as everyone else at the madness of Quenthar’s actions.  Like everyone in Imladris, Aradol was faithful to Lord Elrond and loved his family, including little Estel.

The young master was now gathering up the reins for the horses of the royal party.  Those would be housed in the stables reserved for the horses of Lord Elrond and his family, Glorfindel and Erestor.  As Stable Master, Aradol would over see all of the stables of Imladris, but this one was his primary responsibility. 

Legolas wandered over to the twins, who were still somewhat bemused by their introduction to the illustrious King of Mirkwood.  “Are you going to tell me, or should I guess how the two of you managed to look so, so…well, words fail me as to how you look.”  The twinkle in his eyes added lightness to his words.

“Trust me, mellon nín, you don’t want to know,” laughed Elrohir.  The afternoon sun was quickly drying their muddy garments into stiffness and the twin was anxious to get bathed and changed.

“Where is Estel?” asked the prince.  “I am eager to see him again.”

The twins shared a glance, which was not lost on Legolas.  “What is it?”

“Come on, we’ll explain on the way to the stables,” said Elrohir, deciding that Estel could keep the prince company while he and El freshened up.

“The stables?  Is something wrong?  Is he well?”  Legolas was concerned for his new little friend.

“Estel is physically well, but he is still very fearful over what happened to him.  He is shutting us out and spending all his time in the barn with Celos and Celon,” explained Elladan.

“Your stallions?” said Legolas, surprise written on his fair face.

“Yes,” groaned Elrohir.  “Our mighty beasts have been tamed by our little brother. Estel, tamer of horses!  They follow him around like lap dogs.”  He could not help but grin.  “You should have seen the ruckus when they followed him into the Hall of Fire one evening.”

“It was great,” agreed Elladan.  “Erestor turned the most interesting shade of puce that I have ever seen.”

Legolas laughed at the image.  He would have dearly loved to see that sight.

“And Ada’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline,” added Elrohir with a chuckle as the trio reached the stables. 

“Estel, look who is here to see you!” called Elladan, as they entered the shadowed building through the front doors. The shade felt cool on their faces after the warmth of the afternoon sun.  No answer came from within the structure.  Elladan could see that the stall of his horse was empty, but walked back there just to be sure.  

The stall was empty save for a box of sleeping kittens being watched over by their mother. 

Legolas eyebrows rose at the sight.  “Kittens?  You keep kittens in the stall with your stallion…and he allows this?”

“Estel moved them here.  And yes, Celos not only allows it, but he also watches over them as well as Estel,” replied Elladan, with a small shake of his head.

The twin’s face sobered as he stared at the empty stall.

“Estel is not here, and neither are our horses,” observed Elrohir, feeling his twin’s sudden apprehension.

“Perhaps he is in the house napping,” suggested Legolas.

“Not unless Erestor has decided to allow Celon and Celos to sleep with him,” said Elladan tersely.   “I have a bad feeling about this; Estel never leaves the yard any more.  He would not wander away.”

“And if he were anywhere around the grounds we would be able to see Celon and Celos,” added Elrohir.

0-o-O-o-O

“We are close, my friend,” rasped the brown robed one.  “My agents scour the mountain passes for the Hidden Valley.”  He walked over to gaze out from the tall window onto the surrounding country side.  The raised hood of his robe cast deep shadows across his features, masking them from the world.  Long, boney fingers protruded from wide sleeves.

“The Hidden Valley?” replied a smooth voice skeptically, as the owner took a sip of wine from a gilded cup. He gracefully sat the chalice down onto the cloth covered table. “Do not be ridiculous.  What makes you think the heir of Isildur is there?  I have had no word of this.”

The brown robed figure lifted his shoulder slightly in answer. “It is, as some would say, a hunch, but my feelings are strong in that direction.  Even now I walk the dreams of many young ones…always seeking.  I will find him, my lord, and when I do…”  He let the words drift off.

O-o-O-o-O

Erestor led King Thranduil and Falathar up the marbled steps to the second floor guest rooms.  He opened a large, ornate door and stepped back so that the king could precede him into the room.  He nodded his head as Falathar followed the king into the room, scanning it quickly to see for himself that all was secure.  With an apologetic glance at Erestor he backed out of the room and took up his position beside the door.

Erestor walked into the room to pull the draperies back and allow the sunlight to spread across the parquet floor.  He opened the door to the bathing chamber to be sure that fresh towels had been stacked for the king.  He turned to see whether or not Thranduil would be in need of any further assistance.

Thranduil was standing with his back to the room, silhouetted as he stood looking out onto the terrace.  “Falathar means no disrespect to Elrond or to you, Erestor.  He is young and takes his responsibility seriously.”

“I take no offense at the young one’s actions,” replied Erestor. 

Thranduil snorted softly and turned to stare at the seneschal.  “I remember you in battle.  You were a formidable force, almost as fierce as Glorfindel.  Would that you had fought by my father’s side.  Perhaps the tide would have turned in our favor. 

“Dozens of me could not have turned the tide of that battle.  It was hopeless.”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed.  “Hopeless?  Would you add your voice to those who called my father reckless?” 

“I do no such thing, Thranduil.  It was a black day for all of us when King Oropher was felled.  We all lamented grievous losses suffered by Greenwood’s warriors, and none more than Lord Elrond.”

“When did you lay aside your weapons to become a diplomat?”

“I did not lay aside my weapons, as you put it.  I am still quite capable of wielding my sword should that be necessary.  I choose to serve my lord Elrond in the way that best serves him.”

“It must be peaceful here indeed if Elrond has the luxury of having a warrior like yourself as his advisor.  Mirkwood has no such luxury.  We are besieged by the darkness from every side.  Even my own son must be placed in jeopardy to guard our kingdom.”

Erestor’s temper rose at the implication of the king’s words, but he calmed himself lest he bring dishonor to this house.  What did Thranduil know of the losses Elrond had faced in his life: his parents, his brother, the High King - who was as a father to him, his wife Celebrían, and for many dark years, the twins – lost to him in their grief driven lust for revenge.  His voice was cold when he finally spoke. “You would do well to remember that darkness and suffering are not exclusive to Mirkwood.  Now, if there will be nothing else, I have other duties to which I should attend.”

Thranduil watched him leave and softly close the door.  He turned back to take in sight of the beautiful gardens visible from his terrace and signed softly.  The soft scent of gardenia and roses filled the room with a sweet aroma.  He had not meant to open the door to those bitter memories, especially with Elrond’s seneschal.  Why had he done so?

Perhaps it was the scent of the roses that reminded him of his dear wife, the love of his life – lost to the darkness and now in Mandos’ Halls.  His palace was, for the most part, underground – defensible.  Everything in his kingdom had to be considered around defenses.

What would it be like, for just one day, not to have to consider ways to fight back the evil tide that forever sought to destroy his realm?  How he would love to live in peace with his son at his side instead of sending him out day after day to battle orcs, spiders and anything else Sauron desired to throw at them.  His people needed him, but he feared that should he lose his son he would surely fade.  It was a fear he hid from all, especially Legolas.

“Aye, Thranduil,” the king spoke softly into the afternoon sunshine, “you are becoming maudlin.  You cannot change what is.  You are a king and you must be strong and put the welfare of your people first.  Concentrate on what you can change, not on what you cannot.”  

He walked out onto the sunlit balcony and stood looking down at the gardens below.  He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the feel of warmth on his skin.  Tonight he would allow himself the rare luxury of sitting on this balcony and relishing the peace and beauty of the starlight.  He so loved to gaze into the darkened heavens.  So lost in thought was he that he did not even notice his son racing up the garden path towards the front of the house. 

O-o-O-o-O

Elladan and Elrohir were becoming concerned.  They had checked with the Stable Master, who confirmed that he had last seen Estel playing in his usual spot before the arrival of the Mirkwood contingent.  Legolas and the twins split up and did a quick search of the immediate grounds of Imladris, meeting back at the front of the Last Homely House.

“No sign of him?” asked Elladan as he rendezvoused with his twin and Legolas.  He was standing on the steps with his back to the house.  Elrohir and Legolas were facing him, their backs to the stables.

“We found no sign of him, brother.”  Elrohir was puzzled by the look which came over his brother’s face. He watch as the blood seemed to drain from the familiar features.  “El?” 

He and Legolas turned to see what it was that had so shocked Elladan. 

Emerging from the forest behind the stables were Celos and Celon.  Celos was lagging behind his agitated brother.  As Celon moved out of the way it was became clear what had him agitated.

Celos was blood covered and limping badly, his beautiful coat sticky and matted.

“By the Valar,” breathed Elrohir.  “Elladan, get Ada – quickly!”  He started running towards the horses, calling for Aradol as he passed the stables.

Elladan stood frozen by the sight for only a moment.  Turning, he ran up the stairs and burst into the house with a shout.  “Ada!”

Helcar was just emerging from the stables where he had helped to stable the horses of the Mirkwood warriors when he heard the shouts.  He knew from the tenor of their voices that something was terribly wrong, and he started to run, calling for his guards as he did so.

TBC