Healing Hope

Chapter Sixteen

Silent Sentinels

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.  ~From a headstone in Ireland

The Border of Imladris

The commander ran quickly and silently through the dark woods of his home.  His three day mission was drawing to a close, and the elf was going to join his fellow sentry and best friend so that they could travel back to Imladris together once their relief arrived.  Though responsible for all the defenses, Illuin often took his turn on the three day rotation of sentries.  He felt as though it gave him a more thorough understanding of how their defenses were working and he also just loved being out alone with the stars in the forest.

Coarse laughter caused the hair on the back of his neck to bristle, and he stealthily took to the nearest tree.  Creeping through the branches, he followed the raucous sound more curious than alarmed.  It was not unheard of for orcs to blunder within the boundaries of the hidden valley as they made their way back to their foul lairs from whatever malevolent purpose they had been about, but not an occurrence that happened regularly either.  On the rare times that the disgusting creatures did move too far within the boundaries, they never made it back out again to tell the tale, for the elves destroyed them.

Illuin had been commander of the perimeter defenses of the valley for many years, and he had been looking forward to making it back to Imladris tonight to share in the festivities in the Hall of Fire.  It had been a grueling patrol and he was ready to relax and, most of all, see his beautiful wife Belia again.  All thought of that was lost as he drew close enough to see the four beings.  Horror gripped him, nearly stealing his breath, as his eyes beheld the gruesome scene displayed on the forest floor below him. Bile rose in his throat and he forced it down as he struggled to come to terms with what he was seeing.

The orcs had taken their time, it appeared.  The elf, or what was left of him, lay butchered and brutalized on the forest floor at their feet.  Much of him had been eaten, but there was enough remaining to convince Illuin of the identity of the elf.  It was Belan, older brother to his wife and to Beling.  His head had been impaled on a broken branch, the once beautiful features frozen in a mask of pain.

Illuin had his first arrow notched and flying before he even realized what he was doing. Faster than he would have thought possible he fired again and again, surprising the orcs and killing them where they stood. How the vile creatures were able to surprise an elf - particularly an elf of Belan’s experience - would have to be puzzled out later.  Once every last orc had been killed, then Illuin would bury his friend.  There was no way that Belan would have wanted Belia or Beling to view – and remember – him as he was now.  Illuin would do this duty for Belan; he would not let his friend be seen this way by any other.  As it was, the commander would carry the horror of this sight for all his days.

O-o-O-o-O

The Hall of Fire

After the first jolt surprise, the reclining elves - at least those not already splattered by the spilled soup - had quickly removed themselves from the path of the equine visitors.  The Mirkwood warriors stared in amazement at the pandemonium even as the musicians attempted to continue with soothing strains of melody, which only seemed all the more ludicrous given the circumstances.  The flutist, in particular, seemed determined to be heard over the din.

Celos, spying Falathar’s drawn sword, had immediately headed to place himself between Estel and the Silvan elf, who was vainly trying to keep a protective eye on his king and the prince.  Every time Falathar would attempt to move closer to Thranduil and Legolas, he would find himself blocked by the white, hairy backside of the stallion, for Estel was standing between the pair.  Elladan could have told him that putting away his sword would solve the problem, but he could not manage to draw a breath.  His sides hurt and his eyes streamed with tears, and still he could not stop laughing.  The long suffering look on his Ada’s face only added to his amusement.  Elrohir was in no better shape.

It was as though, once all the pent up tension in the room was released, the elves had given themselves over completely to just enjoying the scene playing out before them.  Erestor, his face still partially green from the spilt split pea soup, was pulling on Celon’s tail.  Curúfin and another warrior were doing their best to push on Celon from the other end, to no avail.  Beling, when he could stop laughing, was trying to pet Fluffy and keep from being stepped on as Celos continually moved to block Falathar, who looked ready to pull out his warrior’s braids.  At seventeen hands tall and full of brute strength, no one was even attempting to block Fuinur.   However, the huge black was content to stand by Celon.

The Lord of Imladris still sat…alternately shaking his head and placing it back into his hands.  The twins were rolling on the floor by this time and even Glorfindel looked ready to hold his sides.  In the corner, the musicians were playing ever louder in their hopeless attempt to be heard over the racket.  In the midst of all this, ensconced in a haven of peace, sat the King of Mirkwood and Estel.

Estel’s eyes widened as he spied the new horse.  “Who is that?” he asked in wonder.

“Ah, I see you know good horseflesh when you see it,” replied Thranduil.  “This great beauty is Fuinur, and I have brought him as a gift for Elladan Elrondion.

“What about Elrohir?” Estel asked, his small eyebrows drawn together in a frown. 

Thranduil’s own eyebrows rose as understanding dawned on him.  “You fear that I have slighted Elrohir?”

“What’s sli-ted?”

Before the king could answer, Celos’ huge head nudged Estel in the back, claiming his attention.  The amused king watched the horse nip at the boy’s shirt until Estel pulled it up to allow Celos to lovingly blow on the bared skin.  Estel laughed delightedly, and threw his chubby arms around the horse’s head.  He gave the horse a hug and then moved his hand to gently trace down the healing wound on the Celos’ chest wall.  “I love you, Celos,” he said softly. 

He looked over to Thranduil. “Celos saved me from the boar,” explained the child.

Not to be out done, Celon maneuvered his way around Curúfin to nudge Estel’s back as well.  Estel obligingly turned to pay attention to Celon.  “I’m sorry, Celon,” he smiled, petting the horse between the eyes just where he knew he liked it.  “I love you, too.”

Legolas met his Adar’s eyes over the boy’s head and Thranduil’s breath was nearly taken away by the look of pure joy he beheld in his son’s gaze.  That look, more than anything else, told the tale for the King.  He was fascinated as he watched his son interacting with the child, and he was even more surprised to realize that not once since meeting Estel had he even bothered to think of him as edain.

As Thranduil watched Legolas and Estel interact, the concerns and responsibilities of the prince seemed to drop away and he was once again as carefree as an elfling.  It was bittersweet to the king that it was here and not in his own home that Legolas could find laughter and love far away from the danger and constantly lurking evils of Mirkwood, but he was grateful that he had seen it for himself. 

Legolas’ natural merry nature needed this release.  Thranduil knew that his son would never admit such, for he would see it as less than worthy of a Prince of Mirkwood, but the father in him could see all too clearly the truth of the matter.  He determined then and there to see to it that Legolas spent more time in Imladris, even if he had to invent official errands for him.

Further down the table from where Thranduil sat watching their sons, Elrond heaved a great sigh and turned to Glorfindel.  “Will you…” his voice trailed off as though he just could not find words to convey his opinion of the fracas.  The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable to the golden warrior however, and Glorfindel knew that Elrond was enjoying this as much as the rest of them.  He just had a certain …dignity…to uphold. 

Glorfindel kicked the twin closest to him – in this case, Elrohir – in the foot.  “Gather your twin and let’s gets these horses out of here.  We’ve had quite enough fun for one night.  I am not sure that Erestor can take much more.”

Into the atmosphere of general hilarity, stepped Helcar, second in command to Glorfindel and the one charged with the defense of the Imladris proper, and Illuin, the latter still careworn and stained from the night’s devastating events.  The pair paused just inside the door, their eyes seeking Glorfindel in the confusion.

Glorfindel was presently attempting, with the aid of the twins, to rein in three massive horses and one very small kitten.  Beling had calmed Falathar, who had finally put away his sword now that he was convinced that the horses meant no harm to his king and no other natural calamity was about to fall upon all their heads.  Erestor was wiping green soup from his face with a towel while Estel and Thranduil happily watched it all.  Erestor’s scowl had evidently convinced the musicians that they were not helping the situation, and they now just sat mutely awaiting some direction.

It was Elrond who noticed the two warriors by the entrance to the Hall of Fire, and from the look on their faces, he knew that they bore grave news.  Illuin, in particular, looked ready to collapse.  Perhaps it was his foresight, but the elf lord knew immediately that the news they bore was connected to the threat which had been growing his mind.  He rose and started towards them.

“Glorfindel.”

The tension in the softly spoken word penetrated the golden warrior’s consciousness with the magnitude of a landslide, and he immediately turned towards Elrond.   Looking past his friend, he saw the two warriors in the doorway.  Their eyes were on him, and Helcar’s gaze told him that he was needed immediately.

Glorfindel reached the conference only a moment after Lord Elrond, whose features paled as he listened to Helcar’s report.  Illuin seemed too shocked to even speak, the unthinkable grief in his eyes haunting.  It was as though a pall fell upon the room as, one by one, the warriors of Imladris beheld the countenance of their Lord and Commander and rose to their feet, silent sentinels of support, loyalty, and commitment.

Falathar first noticed Beling coming to his feet, his eyes fixed over Falathar’s shoulder towards the doorway.  The Mirkwood commander glanced at his king, as though to reassure himself that all was well, and then looked towards the door to see what had caught Beling’s attention.  He saw Lord Elrond and Glorfindel in conference with Helcar and Illuin, both of whom he had met on his previous visit to Imladris.  It was obvious from the looks on their faces that something was amiss and it was then that he noticed the other Imladris warriors realizing the same thing and beginning to stand.

The tension in the Imladris warriors was all the provocation Falathar needed.  He immediately motioned for the Mirkwood warriors to gather nearer the king’s position.  He wanted them ready no matter what might occur.  Were it up to him, he would get his king from this benighted place this very evening.  Give him the evil and giant spiders of Mirkwood any day; at least those were enemies he would know how to fight.

Legolas saw that the twins had managed to get the horses out of the hall of fire and headed back to the stables.  He watched the mirth drain from their faces when they turned and beheld the look on their father’s face and then the difference in those attending the feast.  Both hurried towards Lord Elrond and Glorfindel.  Legolas looked quickly to Estel, relieved that the child had not noticed the sudden charge in the atmosphere, for he was busy showing the king his cast.

“Estel,” he said softly, “why don’t you and I show my Adar your room?  I believe the King would enjoy seeing your indoor Fluffy now that he has met the outdoor Fluffy.”

Estel looked from Legolas to Thranduil, missing the look that shot between them.  “Do I have to go to bed?” Estel asked Legolas suspiciously.

“No, tithen pen,” laughed the prince.  “I will tell you a story or two before bedtime.  Would you like that?”

 “Yes!” agreed Estel, slipping his little hand into the larger one of Legolas.  Not wanting the King to feel “left out,” Estel reached back and took hold of the Thranduil’s hand as well.  The three started towards the entrance followed by Falathar and half a dozen of his guards.

Estel noticed the entourage following them and looked up to Thranduil.  “Do they want to hear a bedtime story too?”

The king glanced back with a delicately arched brow.  “I do believe they may, young one.  Would you mind if they came as well?”

Estel glanced back to take in the number.  “There isn’t room in my bed for all of them, but they can come.  My ada won’t mind if they sleep on the floor.”

As they approached the conference, Thranduil’s laughter tinkled like tiny silver bells, a distinct contrast to the grim looks on the Noldor faces. Glorfindel noticed their approach and signaled for Helcar to stop speaking.

Elrond turned around then and saw Legolas, Estel, and quite surprisingly, Thranduil coming towards them. 

Ever observant, Estel had caught sight of the concern on Elrond face as he turned around.  “Ada?” he asked, suddenly unsure he wanted to leave his father’s side.

“Lord Elrond,” Legolas said smoothly, before Elrond could answer Estel’s unspoken question.  “With your permission, Estel has offered to show King Thranduil his room.  I have volunteered to tell the young one a bedtime story and stay with him.” 

Gratitude and relief were evident in the look that Elrond gave to Legolas and to Thranduil, before he knelt down beside his young son.  “All is well, Estel.  You have quite a treat in store for you, for Prince Legolas tells very good stories.”  He gave the boy a hug and promised to check in on him later.

Elrond stood back up and placed a hand on Legolas’ shoulder.  “Thank you.”

“I will stay with Estel,” he assured the elf Lord.  “He will not be alone at any time.”  He looked down fondly to meet the large silver eyes that were busy taking in all the serious expressions on the faces of those he loved.  “Come, tithen pen, I am anxious to introduce my Adar to your sunshine blankey.”

 TBC