Healing Hope

Chapter Fourteen

The Meeting, Part Two (of Three)

Secrets

“The man who can keep a secret may be wise, but he is not half as wise as the man with no secrets.” Edgar Watson Howe

This Chapter is dedicated to Kim.

Glorfindel sat in a chair holding a two pronged candelabra as he poured over the document laid out on the table in Elrond’s study.  Candle wax dripped onto one corner unnoticed, so thorough was the warrior’s concentration.  Sighing, he sat down the candelabra so that he could massage the muscles of his neck.  After rolling his head a couple of times, he steepled his long, graceful fingers as he once again pondered the scroll.

Lord Elrond Peredhil’s attention was pulled back to the room by the sighs of the warrior.  Reluctantly he turned his face from the warmth of the afternoon sun.  Normally he was soothed by the familiar sights and scents of this cozy, book-lined room, but not today.  His robes brushed softly against the floor as he made his way back to the table to once again join his commander.

The object in question, the scrolled map of the hidden valley and the surrounding mountains, also showed the locations of all the human villages within range.  Dotted here and there on the map were markers indicating the locations of the orc raids.   

“As you can see,” Glorfindel continued, “the raids appear to be drawing ever closer...almost in concentric circles.”  He frowned. The pattern was certainly clear when displayed as it was before them.  Yet the whole idea seemed impossible, for the words pattern and orc were rarely, if ever applicable together. 

“What did Beling report?” questioned Elrond, pacing once more to the terrace, his gray eyes masked in concentration.

“Much as we suspected,” said Glorfindel, “that the orcs appear to be organized. They also attack further from their lair than is normal.  Beling tracked them for almost a full night and still they did not betray their den.  He was forced to retreat when they sent a rear guard to scout behind them.”

Elrond spun around. “A rear guard?”

Glorfindel dipped his head in confirmation.  “When is the last time you heard of an orc band being that organized?”

“They were certainly well organized during the war of the last alliance…”

“Yes, they were…because they were being led.”  Glorfindel tapped his finger on the map a few times as he pondered.  “Could it be that the ring of power has been found?  Could Sauron be preparing for another all out assault?”

“Impossible,” breathed Elrond. “Galadriel or I would have seen it had Sauron regained that much power. If he were in possession of the ring…”   He let his voice trail off.  “No, I cannot believe that scenario.  We would have had word from the Maia if that were the case.  Still…” 

Glorfindel’s voice took on a somber timbre.  “What have you seen, old friend?  I must know if I am to protect you.”

Elrond’s face softened as he beheld the golden elf before him.  “You returned from Mandos’ Hall to protect me. You are my commander, my advisor, and most of all, my friend. I gladly place my life and more importantly the lives of my children in your hands.”

“Then tell me what it is that has been clouding your mind these past days, for I have watched you wrestle with it by yourself. Why do you hide it from me?  Until now, I was content to wait for you to decide when to share your concern.”

Elrond’s eyebrow lifted. “Until now?”

Glorfindel rose determinedly. “I gave your father my word that I would protect his line.”

“Peace, Glorfindel,” chided the elf Lord. “I fully intend to tell you what I know.  And therein lies the problem.”

Glorfindel leaned back against table crossing his arms across his chest.  “I am prepared to wait.”

With a soft sigh, Elrond sunk gracefully into the chair across the table from his friend.

The warrior walked around the table and began to knead the elf lord’s shoulders.  “You stubborn elf,” he chuckled.  “You enjoy vexing me, but it will not divert my attention this time.  Now tell me, my friend, what it is that weighs on your heart.”

“I wish that I could be specific…”

“Then be unspecific,” interrupted the warrior.

The raised eyebrow was Elrond’s reaction, a dead give-a-way to Glorfindel of Elrond’s preoccupation with the worry….whatever it was.

“I apologize,” conceded Glorfindel. “Please continue.”

“Thank you,” replied Elrond drolly.  He sat quietly for a few moments relishing the feel of the tension being worked from his shoulders.  “There is a shadow in my mind, Glorfindel, but it is as yet too nebulous for me to read.  Before last night I sensed that it concerned Estel.  Now I am sure of it.”

“The dream?”

“The dream,” confirmed the elf lord.  “Estel specifically said that the voice in the fog asked for Aragorn.  Thankfully that name has no meaning to Estel or he might have revealed his location to an unknown enemy.”

“Estel did not respond to the name Aragorn.  Perhaps that will be the end of it,” suggested the warrior.

Elrond shook his head. “I cannot take that chance.  This was not the first time that the “voice” called to Estel.  And now with these unusual orc attacks drawing near…”

Glorfindel’s brow creased. “You think them related?”

“How can I not?” responded Elrond.  “In any event, we cannot disregard the possibility.  If the one seeking Estel believes him to be here, he could be using the orcs in an attempt to gain entry or to draw us out and force us to reveal the way into the valley.”

“Beling did say that the orcs spent a lot of time probing areas that were not inhabited by humans…areas close to our defenses.”  He thought about the implications for a moment.  “I will double the guard.  Nothing will get through our defenses, my lord.  Estel will be safe here.”

Elrond closed his eyes wearily.  “But Estel cannot stay here forever, can he?  His destiny will lead him into the very teeth of danger.”

Glorfindel stopped kneading the tension-tightened muscles and rested his hands on Elrond’s shoulders in unspoken support.  “His time is not yet come.  We have many years in which to prepare him, and we will do it well.”

Elrond turned to look up at his advisor.  “In the mean time, how do I protect him from a voice in his dreams?”

Glorfindel walked back around the table and sat down across from Elrond.  He leaned back in the chair looking at the ceiling as he thought.  Presently he brought his gaze back to Elrond.  “Can you not just warn him not to tell the voice where he lives?”

“I thought of that,” admitted Elrond, “but he is already stalked by terror in the night. I do not wish to further frighten him about the voice he heard.  Besides,” he smiled ruefully, “you know Estel.  The harder he tries to keep a secret…”

“The faster he ends up blurting it out,” finished Glorfindel with a chuckle.  “Yes, his face is as his heart… an open book for all to read.  He will have to learn to mask his feelings better.”

“That will come in time.  His innocence is what is so forthcoming.  He wishes only to please those he loves.”

The pair sat in companionable silence, each lost in thought as they continued to study the damning evidence on the map.  One thing was deadly certain from the pattern of attacks…the circle was closing.

O-o-O-o-O

The long awaited event was approaching and Legolas Greenleaf was as nervous as a cat in a room full of Glorfindel’s rocking chairs.  The moment of truth was barreling down on him with the momentum of an avalanche from the Caradhras and he was powerless to divert the massive wave of energy.  Shortly his father, the King of Mirkwood, would meet Estel.  How could he have kept this secret from his father…why did he keep this secret from this father?  Well, he knew why.  ‘I am a coward,’ moaned the Prince.

Legolas shuddered as he pondered once again how he had managed to get himself into such a predicament.   His father hated humans.  Legolas knew that…everyone within shouting distance knew that.  But, he argued with himself, he had expected to have years in which to slowly break the news of Estel’s race to his father.  Now the day of reckoning was at hand and he had no idea how it was going to play itself out.

Would his father be rude to Estel?  Legolas’s features darkened at that thought. He would not see Estel’s tender feelings hurt.  Surely his father would not take out his anger on a child.  No, Legolas, reassured himself, his father would take his anger out on him.  At that thought, he groaned again, wondering – not for the first time – if this would be the time that his father actually did throw him into the dungeon.  He certainly threatened to do so often enough.

Legolas rolled over on the massive limb so that he could rest on his back.  He had sought refuge in the very same elm that had helped lead him to Estel the night he found and freed the child from where Quenthar had buried him. He smiled as he remembered his bond with the magnificent tree.

Legolas nodded to one of Helcar’s guards as he crossed through the beautiful garden. He paused to glance up at Lord Elrond’s balcony, knowing that it was from there that the renegade elf had taken the human child. ‘Of course,’ he realized, ‘why did I not think of this before!’ Walking over to the ancient elm, which stood majestically over the marble bench where the scrap of bandage from Estel had been found, the Elven prince placed his hands respectfully against the bark. It was the same tree from which the three elves had perched outside Elrond’s window searching for sight of Estel when banished from the house, and the tree had shared their laughter and their cares. Taking a deep breath, Legolas asked the ancient life for permission to experience its life force. Receiving permission, Legolas allowed himself to relax into the flow of life which emanated from the tree. The ancient had withdrawn into himself when he had felt the unusual touch of evil. Many lives of man the tree had lived in Imladris, and never had it felt such evil at its base. Unsettled, the tree had pulled within.

Becoming one with the tree sobered and awed the prince, as it always did when he had the rare opportunity to have this experience. Quickly gathering himself before he became too caught up in the moment and wasted time that Estel did not have, Legolas searched the tree’s memory for images of the child. What he felt and saw were visions of joy and happiness, of unruly dark curls and infectious laughter. He quickly pushed past these memories, seeking the ones that might aid him now. Finally he came to what he sought. The elf was dressed darkly and Legolas could not make out a face. He could see them jump from the window. The elf and child had landed hard, and the boy rolled against the marble bench, tearing off the bandage in the process. The tree had reacted in distress at the damage to the child’s lip, and Legolas shared its compassion. The dark elf had jerked up the child and run off through the garden, in the direction of the archery fields.

 Legolas unconsciously shivered at the memory of that night.  Finding the child had been a momentous experience for him, and he once again allowed his mind to drift backwards.

Legolas was moving faster and faster as he climbed the steep path leading up the hillside. The trees were almost twitching in their enthusiasm and willingness to help the Wood Elf. Legolas was becoming excited the closer he came to finding the human child.

The Prince stopped and kneeled on the path, his hands carefully feeling the tracks. He was close; he was sure of it. Glancing up at the trees, he smiled his appreciation to them for their help. He rose and quickly followed the tracks to where they ended. Scanning the area he noticed the skillfully prepared brush covering what looked like a trap door. ‘Success,’ he breathed, ‘now, please Elbereth, let the child be alive.’

Legolas began pulling the bush and dirt away from the door using as much speed as he could. At last he had the door completely cleared and he gently pulled at door. The door was stiff and creaked ominously as it was pulled clear. A vile stench assailed the prince’s nose but he forced himself to ignore it as he peered into the small cramped space.

Curled unmoving in the corner was the Edan. Legolas feared that he was too late. Carefully he reached in to pull out the child and was relieved to feel the warmth of his skin. The child lived! Legolas quickly assessed the boy’s condition. He was obviously dehydrated, covered in scratches – several of which appeared infected – and had a raging fever. The prince pulled off the soiled pants the child wore, swearing to himself at the horror he was seeing. If Elladan did not finish off Quenthar, then by all the Valar, he would for the torment this innocent had been put through. Legolas pulled off his outer tunic and wrapped the child in the soft material.

“Come on, little one, awaken,” he crooned softly to the child, as he smoothed back the dark curls stuck to Estel’s face.

Estel’s eyelashes batted slowly as he finally managed to open his eyes. Silver blue eyes looked fearfully at the Prince.

“Saes, tithen pen, you are safe now.”

Legolas realized with a start that he had even referred to Estel as “the human child.”  How strange that seemed now that he knew Estel and the little one shared a part of his heart.  He sighed again.  He just had to find a way for his father to get to know Estel.

“Legolas,” came an annoying voice from below. “What are you doing up there?”

“Thinking,” grumbled the prince at the interruption. ‘Go away.” 

Well, of course, that was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, and the twins quickly scrambled up the tree to join their friend.

“Scoot over,” said Elrohir, nudging the prince’s foot.

Legolas obligingly rolled over and sat up, allowing room for the twins. 

“What are you doing outside Ada’s window?” asked Elladan.

Legolas colored slightly as he realized that he was directly across from Lord Elrond’s balcony.  “I didn’t realize,” he managed to stammer.

Elladan frowned. “What’s wrong with you?  I haven’t seen you this nervous since we hid the bells from Asfaloth’s bridle.”

Legolas took a deep breath and decided to just come out with it. “My Adar does not know that Estel is human.”

The twins stared at him. 

“So?” said Elladan.

“What does it matter?” echoed Elrohir.

“My Adar, as well as most of the inhabitants of Mirkwood, hates humans,” Legolas said flatly, seeing exactly what he thought he would…two identical scowls.  “Wood elves are not as …open…to the other races as you are here in Imladris.”

“We are half-human,” said Elladan hotly. “Will your Adar refuse to eat with us, do you think?”

Legolas rolled his eyes. “I knew you would not make this easy.”

“Easy?” exploded Elrohir.  “You tell us your father and your people hate humans and you expect us to be happy about it?”

“No, not happy,” replied Legolas icily.  “But you could try to understand.  My father blames the line of Elendil for the death of my Daeradar and two thirds of his warriors.  Very few of my people were spared the grief.”

“Elendil died fighting Saruon,” said Elrohir quietly.

“Then to make things worse,” Legolas continued, “Isildur kept the ring of power for himself when he should have destroyed it.  Our lands have been besieged ever since.”

“So all humans now bear the taint of Elendil?  Is that what you are saying?  Maybe you don’t want to be around us either,” accused Elladan.

Legolas stared at the twins; hurt warring with the anger in his eyes.

Elladan sighed and dropped his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Legolas.  Of course you don’t feel the same way.  You saved Estel, and I will forever be in your debt because of it.  I’m just worried about Estel.  He will not understand it if your Adar is rude to him, and I will not let that go unchallenged.”

Legolas nodded his head. “I cannot believe that my Adar would be rude to Estel no matter how he feels about humans.  He would not be so ungracious.”

“Why don’t you simply tell him before hand?” suggested Elrohir.

“I thought about that,” replied Legolas, “but if I do that I think he will find a reason not to attend the dinner, and I want him to meet Estel.  It’s one thing to eat with a human if you didn’t know he’s human,” he reasoned, “and quite another to choose to, if that makes any sense.”

“In a convoluted Wood elf sort of way I supposed it does,” nodded Elladan. 

“So what are you going to do about it?” asked Elrohir.

“Do about what?” said a deep voice behind them.

All three of the younger elves jumped.

“Glorfindel!” gasped Elladan, putting his hand across his chest to still his rapidly beating heart.  “I swear you’re going to cause me to drop from fright some day.”

The golden warrior just chuckled. “I believe we have had this conversation before.  I can always steal up on the twins when they are running their mouths, but I am surprised to catch you unaware, Prince Legolas.  It is rare to catch a Wood elf by surprise.”

Legolas colored at the comment.  Glorfindel was correct.  He was so engrossed in the conversation with the twins that he had dropped his guard completely.  It didn’t matter that they were within the safety of Imladris.  A mistake like that at the wrong time could be deadly.

Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed as his eyes moved from one to the other, taking in the three guilty looking faces.  “Perhaps you should tell me what it is that you were talking about.”

Legolas silently pleaded with the twins not to share the details of their conversation with Glorfindel.  He was already feeling extremely disloyal for talking with the twins about his father, who was also his king. After several moments of uneasy silence Legolas blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “We are the ones that took Asfaloth’s bridle bells!”

TBC