Healing Hope

Chapter 25

Decisions

“No trumpets sound when important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently.” Agnes de Mille

As the shadows of late afternoon stretched from the surrounding peaks, threatening to steal away the remaining warmth of the day, Estel shifted in Legolas’ lap and opened his eyes. The child had fallen asleep while listening to a story being told by the prince, and Legolas and Elrond had been perfectly content to remain in the garden enjoying the soft breeze and sweet scents while he napped. Intermittently Legolas would sing softly, an entrancing melody of childhood and cherished memories.

“That was a good story, Legolas,” yawned Estel, completely unaware he had been asleep for nearly two hours. Lazily he stretched his arms, a smile warming his face as he played with the strands of the prince’s hair, wrapping them round his fingers and giggling as the silky locks worked loose. Fluffy and his siblings lay snoozing nearby in a contented tangle of fur and limbs, having worn themselves out with their mock battles and succumbed to the tempting warmth of Anor.

“Thank you,” chuckled the prince. “It is always nice to have an appreciative audience.”

“Why do you wear your hair like this?” asked the child, sitting up to examine the intricate braids adorning the prince’s head.

“These braids are the warrior’s braids I earned when I reached my majority,” explained Legolas. “As an elfling I did not wear braids.”

“Nor clothes, it seems,” teased Elrond, who could not resist the gentle jibe, much to Legolas’ surprise. The elf lord rose gracefully from the marble bench where he had been lost in thoughts of the many enjoyable hours he had spent here with Celebrían. “I think it is time to go back inside, Estel. Would you care to visit your brothers with me?”

“Yes, Ada!” Estel smiled. “Hi, Curúfin! Why are you wearing your sword? Are you going to practice? Can I watch?”

The elven guard grimaced and stepped from behind the giant elm, where he had been attempting to be discreet. The prince and his lord, of course, would have known of his presence, but he had hoped to elude Estel. The last thing he wanted was to alarm the child. Apparently that was not to be a problem.

“So many questions, Estel,” he smiled, -or what was taken as a smile from the normally taciturn elf - trying hard not to notice the frown on his lord’s face. “No, I am not going to practice just now. I believe I will come with you to visit your brothers,” he finished lamely, aware that Lord Elrond’s frown was deepening the more he talked!

Thankfully, Estel seemed unaware of the added security, accepting that the elves around Imladris would have very logical reasons for their actions. Curúfin was grateful when Falathar interrupted the scene asking to speak to Prince Legolas. Shorter and more thickly muscled than was typical of Elves, Curúfin was built like a bull. His perpetual scowl completed the picture. He assumed that Falathar would now be explaining to the prince that he was being assigned to guard his father, King Thranduil.

Elrond took Estel’s hand and, with a meaningful glance at Curúfin, started walking towards the house. He knew without looking that Curúfin would be following. The elf lord hated the very thought that his home was once again under siege, but that was effectively what was happening. He knew Glorfindel well enough to know that he would have every possible protection in place for Estel and for Imladris.

O-o-O-o-O

“The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it begins.”

The Maia rattled along in his cart singing softly to himself. Content with all around him at the moment, the wizard puffed his pipe and anticipated his visit to Imladris. It had been at least six years since he had last entered the Hidden Valley, and he very much looked forward to the outstanding hospitality of his long time friend, Elrond.

Mithrandir or grey wanderer, as he was known to the elves and the men of the south, was an enigmatic figure for many reasons. Unlike other Maia, he preferred to wander Middle Earth, never calling one particular place home. He was known by many different monikers by many different peoples…Incánus or greymantle he was known to the men of Harad; Olórin or Dreams he was known when he walked with Manwë and Varda; Gandalf or Wand Elf, he was to men and Hobbits, though he was not an elf; and Tharkûn he was called by the dwarves, not to mention also being known by such titles as Grey Pilgrim and Stormcrow.

Since coming to Middle Earth towards the end of the first millennium of the third age, Mithrandir had wandered Arda, always seeking to defeat evil and help the elves and the second born. He was not the acknowledged head of his order, that honor went to Saruman, but the wily shipwright, Cirdan, had seen and recognized the Grey Pilgrim’s worth from the very beginning. It was to Mithrandir, not Saruman, that Cirdan entrusted Varya, the Red Ring of fire, and the knowledge of the bearers of the other two rings of power, Vilya and Nenya.

Yes, Mithrandir was looking forward to his visit with Elrond, and most especially looking forward to some miruvor and good conversation. He had most recently been in the Shire, where the merry beings kept him entertained and certainly well fed, but also where conversation was often a one way affair. Elrond was the kind of host who seemed to know instinctively when his friend needed solitude and silence and when he might prefer conversation and diversion. Ah, and then there was Elrond’s library! The finest in all Middle Earth, the Maia loved to pass the hours there.

The only negative aspect that Mithrandir could see to being in Imladris was the fact that Elrond would not tolerate pipe weed being smoked in his presence or his home. Other than that, mused the gray one, Elrond was a perfect host.

Yes, Mithrandir would be at the Last Homely House by evening and able to enjoy a fine, starlit night in the hall of fire. Some good food, good wine, and good companionship were fine things, he reasoned, even if he couldn’t have his pipe.

O-o-O-o-O

Elrond had left Estel rocking in his chair telling his brothers the tale of Legolas’ after-bath exploits. The elf lord smiled to himself as he thought about the reaction that would elicit from the prince once he discovered the twins knew of his elfling misadventures.

He found Glorfindel in the library, as he expected, and joined the commander of his defenses as the warrior was studying the map.

“Surely that map has revealed all its secrets to you by now.”

Glorfindel looked up to see Elrond, followed closely by Curúfin, entering the library. “Humpf,” he inarticulately replied, satisfied to see that Curúfin was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Glorfindel had already interviewed the twins and questioned them about every last scrap of information he could think of in regards to the mysterious beings and particularly their ability to cloak themselves. He was especially interested in the fact that the twins had been addressed as “sons of Elrond.” Even now his warriors were scouring the surrounding hills looking for signs as to just how closely the beings has been to Imladris. While they could apparently mask their presence, they could not hide – or at least made no effort to hide – their boot prints. And, like all orcs, they cared little for how much plant life they destroyed as they traveled.

“How are the twins?” questioned the warrior.

“They are being told a story by Estel,” replied Elrond. His soft grey eyes warmed as he recalled the sight. “He is so proud to be the caregiver for a change, and he is taking his responsibility very seriously.”

“Were he not destined to be a king, he would make a fine healer. He has the heart for it,” observed Glorfindel.

“He will be both,” replied Elrond softly, almost sadly, for sometimes foresight was not a good thing.

Illuin appeared in the doorway. “My lord, Mithrandir has been sighted drawing near to the valley.”

“Mithrandir…here?” said Elrond.

“Yes, my lord. He should arrive by nightfall.”

“Thank you, Illuin,” replied Elrond. “Please send a guard to escort him and see that he wants for nothing.”

“Yes, my lord,” bowed the guard.

After Illuin left the room Elrond walked over to the terrace, his preferred place for deep thought. He stood silhouetted, his hands clasped behind his back. “Mithrandir has not visited since before Estel came to live here.”

Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed as he beheld the elf lord. “Surely you don’t suspect that Mithrandir is somehow complicit in what is happening now? I know that you said there was wizard’s power involved, but…”

Elrond turned, his countenance troubled and his frustration evident enough to Glorfindel. “I have formed no conclusions; I have not the evidence sufficient to do so. However, I cannot afford to take chances when one I love and the line of kings hangs in the balance.” He took a deep breath, as though waging an inner battle. “Glorfindel, ask Thranduil to join me here and then wait for me in the healing room with the twins. Ask Erestor to wait there as well, and I will meet you shortly to discuss this further.”

Glorfindel suspected there was more going on here than he would like, but nodded his acquiescence and left to do as Elrond had bid him.

A while later Elrond and Thranduil appeared at the doorway of the third flood healing rooms. The faces in the room turned expectantly at their arrival.

In the center of the room, ensconced in his rock-ing chair sat Estel. Like a king of old holding court, he was the center of attention and apparently loving every moment of it. He dearly loved all those present and liked nothing more than to share their company.

Elrond enjoyed the scene for just a moment. “Estel, King Thranduil would like to take you downstairs with him to meet Legolas. Would you go with him, please?”

Estel was delighted. He loved both Thranduil and Legolas – for love flowed freely from this little one - and would enjoy being with them. “Yes, Ada.” He turned to his brothers after crawling from the chair. “Now stay in bed and don’t get cold,” he said in his most authoritative voice, turning from one to the other and wagging his finger in an unconscious imitation of Sariboril. “I’ll be right back.”

“Come Estel,” said Thranduil, holding out his hand to the boy. “I believe Legolas is rounding up some cakes for us to eat.”

Once Estel and Thranduil were safely down the stairs, Elrond turned back to the expectant group knowing what was to come. “Estel is going to Mirkwood; he leaves within the hour.”

The resultant cacophony of protest was like being attended by a flock of magpies.

TBC