Healing Hope

Chapter Eighteen

A Mystery Inside a Puzzle

“The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery.” Anais Nin

The candles in the ornate candelabra had burned down substantially during the long watch of the night casting the room in ever deepening shadows. Dawn was only a few hours away, but even the slight lighting of the sky was unnoticed by the occupants of the room. Normally the book lined room was considered the most comfortable and comforting in Imladris, but it held no consolation this night.

Elrond, Glorfindel, and Helcar sat around the map table in Elrond’s study. A gently glowing lantern created haven of golden light around the table that was virtually unnoticed by those hovering in its soft embrace. At the moment all three were deep in thought. Illuin had finally been ordered by Lord Elrond to return to his home for some rest. The elf was on the verge of collapse, emotionally if not physically, but had wanted to stay and help in any way he could, driven by the memory of his friend’s death.

Glorfindel offered to deliver the news of Belan’s death to Belia and Beling, but Illuin felt honor bound to bear this task himself. Helcar assigned two warriors to be available for anything the family might need and was going to oversee the outer defenses himself in Illuin’s absence. Erestor had already organized the meals for the family and elves to cover all of their regular duties during their time of grief confinement.

Helcar kept staring at the location on the map where Illuin had indicated the attack took place, willing it to reveal the key to the answers he sought. The location of the attack was well inside the outer boundaries, which was a problem in itself. “I don’t understand how orcs could have gotten so far within our borders undetected,” he said softly, voicing what each had been thinking.

Glorfindel leaned back in his chair, nodding his head. “And more importantly, how did they manage to entrap an elf of Belan’s experience. He was one of the finest scouts with which I have ever worked. Few were the elves that could catch him unaware, let alone a clumsy band of orcs. It is a puzzle.”

“I do not like puzzles that concern Imladris,” Elrond said quietly. His elbows were resting on the table and his long fingers were steepled gracefully before his face. “If orcs were this far inside our borders I should have been aware of it through Vilya. Why I was not is just one more layer to the mystery.”

Helcar’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the powerful ring of the air and his look was pulled to the hands of the elf lord. The ring was invisible, he knew, but he could not help looking all the same. It was strange to him to think that such power existed and that it was wielded so easily and thoroughly by his Lord. The very thought awed and humbled the warrior.

At Glorfindel’s soft chuckle, Helcar realized his actions had been observed and the younger elf reddened. He was relieved when the door to the study opened softly to admit Erestor with a tray bearing mugs of herbal tea, sliced cheese and fruit. Helcar was not sure that he would be able to hold down food, but the tea was welcome. Erestor had thoughtfully provided a small pot of honey, fresh lemon wedges and cream, as if the tea were not tempting enough.

Erestor pointedly sat the tray onto the table in front of Lord Elrond, drawing a soft snort from Glorfindel.

“Drink this,” ordered the Seneschal. “You all need a break, if only for a few moments. That map has told you all it will tell you tonight. Staring at it will not give you any more answers.”

Elrond bristled slightly at the implied rebuke and then immediately softened to smile tiredly at Erestor. “You are right, my friend, as you always are.”

“Don’t tell him that!” laughed Glorfindel. “He’ll be more insufferable than he already is.”

Elrond ignored the golden one. “Thank you for the refreshments, Erestor.”

“You may thank me by drinking some tea, my lord,” answered the seneschal.

The door to the study opened again to admit Elladan and Elrohir. Still dressed in their formal clothes from the earlier festivities – how long ago they seemed now – the pair had ridden immediately to the area where their defenses had been broached to see for themselves that all was well.

“We found no further indication of recent orc activity,” said Elladan, without preamble, “Though it would seem that orcs have been increasingly probing the border.”

Glorfindel sat up straight at that pronouncement. “What did you see?”

“Tracks,” answered Elrohir, “A lot of them.” The twin picked up a slice of cheese and one of the mugs of tea, offering it to his brother.

Elladan shook his head, refusing the offered tea, so Elrohir downed the cup himself.

Helcar shook his head at the information. “I don’t understand. There have been no reports of such from our scouts. Illuin would have reported it had there been.”

“I know,” said Elladan, “it makes no sense. El and I were on patrol just two weeks ago and we saw nothing like the tracks we found tonight, and yet these tracks appear to be at least that old. It is as though we simply did not see them before.”

“Or could not,” interjected Elrond softly.

“What do you mean, Ada?” asked Elrohir. “How could we not see them?”

“I am interested in the answer to that question myself,” added Glorfindel.

Elrond rose from the table and paced over to the balcony, where he stood with his back to the room for some moments. His hands clasped behind him, the Elf Lord continued to stare into the darkness as though formulating his thoughts. Those in the room knew from experience that he would answer their questions when he felt that he had a suitable answer…one that he himself could comprehend.

Suddenly his head turned to look upwards as soft sounds of distress reached his elven hearing. “Estel!”

Two floors above the Lord of Imladris, the youngest inhabitant of the realm was caught in the throes of the recurring nightmare, which robbed him of his breath and haunted his nights.

Thranduil and Legolas had been sitting on the foot of Estel’s bed talking softly and enjoying each other’s company when the child first began to wheeze.

Immediately Legolas was by Estel’s side watching frantically for signs of the nightmare. Thranduil looked over his son’s shoulder as Falathar and the guards became alert at the unexpected noise. What Thranduil saw turned his stomach.

Estel’s forehead was bathed in sweat as the child thrashed his head back and forth. Suddenly Estel sat straight up in bed, his eyes open, but unseeing. The child was literally scratching at his throat with his good hand while the cast encased arm bucked wildly against the restraint.

“I can’t bweath,” sobbed the child. “Ada, help me.”

The desperate plea tore at the king’s heart. Legolas picked up the panicked child and ran for the balcony, with Thranduil right behind him. “Adar, hold his hand,” urged Legolas, when he saw the damage Estel was inflicting on himself.

Gently, but firmly, Thranduil held Estel’s hand away from his bloody neck. “Easy child,” he crooned.

Legolas sat on the railing with Estel cradled in his lap and began to rub the child’s chest as he had heard Lord Elrond describe. “Breath,” he urged softly. “Feel the air, Estel.”

Estel’s breath caught in his throat as he hiccupped and tried to fight air through his tortured windpipe. His wheezing attempts were only partially successful, and Legolas watched helplessly as his lips became blue tinged.

From inside the bedroom the door opened with a bang as Elrond and the twins hurried into the room.

Falathar, who had drawn his sword at the unexpected entrance, bowed quickly and sheathed the weapon, his heart pounding at the thought that he had nearly attacked the Lord of Imladris.

For his part, Elrond barely spared the guard a glance as his eyes sought his son, but Elrohir, the twin closest to the Mirkwood elves, had immediately moved himself between his father and the drawn sword. Elladan glared at Falathar as Elrond quickly made his way to the balcony where Estel gasped frantically for breath.

Legolas stood and would have handed Estel to Elrond, but the elf motioned the prince to keep holding the child. Elrond placed the hand bearing Vilya on Estel’s chest. The other he placed on his son’s forehead. Elladan and Elrohir each stood with a supporting hand on their Adar’s shoulders as Thranduil and Legolas silently lent their support. Elrond closed his eyes and poured all his effort into imparting tranquility to Estel’s mind and chest. Gradually the child stilled his frantic efforts and relaxed in Legolas’ arms. The rise and fall of his chest began to mirror that of Elrond’s as the Elf Lord slowly and methodically breathed in and out.

Legolas found himself holding his breath as he watched the color of Estel’s lips losing the blue hue and begin to return to their normal shade. Relief shown in the eyes he turned to his father, who met his glance with understanding and support.

As Estel began to awaken, Elrond gently took him from Legolas’ arms and walked back into the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed. The twins followed him, but Thranduil and Legolas – more shaken than they cared to admit - remained on the balcony to allow the family a few moments of privacy.

“If Quenthar were not already dead, I would like to kill him myself,” growled Thranduil. “That an elf could act so barbarously towards an innocent is unthinkable.”

Legolas shuddered. “Had Quenthar been able to kill me, as he planned, Estel most likely would have perished alone, buried in that box. He came so close to succeeding that it sickens me to even think of it. Had Elladan not appeared when he did…” His voice trailed off as he remembered the scene.

Thranduil himself shuddered at hearing his son speak so matter-of-factly of his near death. The king found his eyes drifting into the room to rest on the elder twin, who was currently speaking softly with his father.

“Ada, what can I do?” asked Elladan.

Elrond met his son’s eyes and saw his need to help. “Elladan, bring me a comfrey mixture and bandages to treat these scratches on Estel’s neck. Elrohir, prepare some tea with a poppy extract to relieve his pain. I’m afraid that he has stressed his arm during the nightmare.”

The twins left to gather the needed supplies as Elrond continued to comfort Estel as he recovered from the night terror. The elf lord rocked back and forth with his shivering son, speaking reassuringly to him of how much he was loved.

“Keep breathing slowly, Estel,” soothed Elrond. “Wake, child,” he said softly.

Estel blinked his eyes several times as he attempted to focus. “Ada?”

“Yes, Estel, I am here,” said Elrond. “Are you in pain?”

Estel nodded his head. “My arm hurts and my neck hurts.” A sob caught in his throat as the fear returned. “I was in the box again, Ada. The bad elf came back, didn’t he? I heard the voice again.”

“No Estel,” assured Elrond, kissing his forehead and holding him close, “the bad elf did not come back. It was a night terror. King Thranduil and Legolas were here. They would not have let the bad elf come.”

“Legolas?” asked Estel, confused.

“Yes,” answered Elrond. “Do you remember now? Legolas was going to tell you a story.”

“I remember,” said Estel groggily. “Legolas likes to take baths.”

“That’s right,” smiled Elrond, hugging the boy to him again. “Legolas likes baths.”

Elrond longed to ask Estel about the mysterious voice, but now was not the time. His son was still too traumatized by the experience, and Elrond did not want him thinking of it now.

"Sleep now, Estel. I will stay with you." Elrond settled himself on the bed with his back against the head board. He cradled Estel to him and prepared to wait out what was left of the night.

O-o-O-o-O

The brown robed arm withdrew from the palantir as Saruman entered the room.

“Still attempting to find the lost line of Elendil?” he asked smoothly.

“Yes,” replied Radagast. “I am close; I can feel that I am close. I found the child again, but before I could get him to talk to me I was blocked.”

“Blocked?” questioned Saruman. “Blocked by what?”

“I do not know,” sighed the wizard. “It is good that I seek the heir of Elendil, is it not, master?”

“Yes, of course,” smiled Saruman. “I doubted you at first, I’ll admit. But you are becoming quite adept in the use of the palantir.”

Radagast beamed, pleased at the praise from the leader of his order. “The orcs are getting closer too our objective, but they are too often willful and disobedient.”

“Yes, they are mindless brutes, ruled by their lust for blood, but I am working on a solution for that problem,” Saruman replied. “We need orcs that are loyal to us; orcs that we can control.”

“If the child is in Imladris, as I believe, I fear that the orcs will not be the ones to find him. I have succeeded in masking their movements to some extent, but my powers are not sufficient to control them and hide their movements from the elves indefinitely.”

Saruman nodded. “The elves are a dangerous foe, much more astute than the second born. Do not underestimate them, my friend. There are still three rings of power somewhere in their keeping. Ah, if I could get my hands on even one of them, the things I could achieve,” he sighed wistfully.

Radagast brightened as a thought entered him mind. “Gandalf the Grey is a friend of the elves. Could not we use him to investigate for us?”

Saruman smiled silkily at the wizard, clouding the mind of the lesser Istari. “Gandalf cannot be trusted with the higher goals of our order, Radagast. He is too much under the spell of the elves and the Halfling’s weed. For now we must keep our plans to ourselves.”

Radagast frowned, but nodded. He felt as though his mind was being controlled, but had not the power to understand its source. He gave up trying to understand and simply ceased to worry about it. “I trust you, my master.”

Saruman smiled and patted the brown wizard on the shoulder. “You are my greatest pupil, Radagast. Continue your work with the palantir. Find me a ring of power, my friend, and you shall be greatly rewarded.”

TBC