Healing Hope

Chapter 27

There Be Monsters Here

“In peace there is nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility.  But when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger: stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.”  William Shakespeare,  King Henry V, Act 3 Scene 1

Mithrandir rounded the last corner separating him from Imladris.  The sun was setting in a dusty haze, as across the Bruinen the torches of Imladris twinkled in the twilight.  A soft sigh of anticipation escaped the lips of the Maia as his wagon rattled over the bridge.  Behind him he could hear the hooves of his elven escort clattering on the stone.  Never before had he received an escorting guard, and his curiosity was aroused.

Elrond walked out onto the front terrace of the Last Homely House to greet the wizard as the wagon rattled to a stop in front of him.  “Mae govannen, Mithrandir, well met.  May peace be upon you.  I am sure that you are ready for a filling meal and some soothing wine after your travels.”

“Greetings, my old friend,” smiled Mithrandir.  “How is it that you always know exactly what I need?”

Elrond inclined his head and spread his arms in welcome.  “Ever have you been welcome in my home.”

The eyes of the wily Maia narrowed, as unease washed over him, but he smiled easily and descended from the wagon. “Ah,” he groaned softly, stretching his back, “would that the Valar had chosen a younger vessel for me to inhabit!  I find that the days of travel become more and more wearisome.”

The elf lord laughed softly.  “You will be roaming Middle Earth until the ending of this age.”

“Perhaps so,” agreed Mithrandir with a chuckle, “perhaps so.” 

Elrond led his guest into the hall of fire where several elves were arranging platters of food and flagons of wine. Mithrandir took the offered seat of honor sinking sank gratefully onto the soft cushions.  He noted the absence of his customary miruvor that Erestor always had waiting for him.  “Where is your seneschal?”

Elrond’s reply was delayed by just the briefest moment.  Only one who knew him well would have noticed the hesitation.  “Erestor is… away.”

“Away, you say?” drawled the wizard.  “And my old friend, Glorfindel? 

“On patrol,” answered Elrond.  The equivocation rested uneasily on his shoulders, for Elrond's preferred method of approach was always one of straightforwardness.

 The golden flower on patrol at this time of night?” asked Mithrandir, using his pet name for Glorfindel.  He is always here to meet me, if for no other reason than to argue with your seneschal and thus disturb my peace. 

“Please, Mithrandir,” said Elrond, seeking to divert his attention, “You are weary and tonight is for rest and entertainment.  Refresh yourself.  I might even be persuaded to allow you to smoke your pipe, on the terrace of course.”

That was it, the proverbial final straw, for never would Elrond allow pipe weed to foul the air of his home.  The Maia stood up and pulled himself to his full height, darkening as a storm cloud. “Sit down, Elrond,” he commanded. 

Around the hall of fire, all activity halted as startled elves stared in surprise at the wizard and their lord.  Recovering quickly, the elves quietly left the hall to grant the pair privacy.

With a quirked eyebrow, Elrond sat, feeling a bit like the twins must have felt on occasion. 

With a satisfied “hurmph,” the wizard resumed his normal hue.  Seating himself, he looked deeply into his host’s eyes.  “Are you going to tell me now what it is that is so wrong.  I have felt it since I entered the valley, and nothing I have seen or heard here this evening has alleviated my suspicion.”

Relief flooded through Elrond, for in the moment that he and Mithrandir’s eyes met, the elf lord saw all he needed to see.  This was, indeed, the friend he had known for so long. No evil dwelt in Mithrandir.  Elrond dipped his head.  Taking a deep breath, he began the tale.

Mithrandir nodded as he listened to the story beginning with the death of Belan and the orc incursions.  The Maia frowned as he learned of the attack upon the twins.  “And you sensed none of this through Vilya?”

“None,” confirmed Elrond, unconsciously fingering the ring on his finger.  “Mithrandir, the twins reported that the orcs were invisible to their eyes until they were almost upon them.”

Shock and surprise were clearly written on the wizard’s face as the implications became clear to him.

“I am ashamed to say that I doubted you,” Elrond confessed.  “Forgive me.”

Mithrandir nodded his head sagely as he considered all he had heard. Finally he fixed Elrond with a look of understanding. “I am not insulted that you showed caution under these circumstances.  Indeed, I would have expected no less.  A wise man should seek to acquire the best possible knowledge.  It is never safe for one to assume that all circumstances have remained constant.  There are times, especially now my friend, when we must release our certainties and embrace the unknown.” 

“I am grateful for your council, old friend, but there is one more thing I must tell you.”

The Maia paused for a moment, staring off into the night as though pondering the events some more as he absentmindedly stroked the gray beard resting upon his chest. Perhaps, thought Elrond, he sought to commune with the Valar, much as Elrond occasionally sought knowledge of Galadriel.  Presently the Maia spoke again, turning to Elrond with urgency.”

“Before I hear more, I must question the twins about these invisible orcs,” insisted the wizard.

“Then come,” said Elrond.  “We will see if they are awake.”

O-o-O-o-O

Estel had been transferred back to Erestor’s mount as dusk engulfed the travelers.  The darkness was not a hindrance to elven eyesight, though the guards remained on heightened alert because, after all, night was province of the orcs.  Glorfindel rode at the head of the column followed by three of his warriors.  King Thranduil and Legolas rode side by side, followed by Falathar.  Erestor and Sariboril were next, followed by the remaining six of Falathar’s troop.  Three more of the Noldor guards brought up the rear.

Falathar was anxious to be past the borders and well on the way home to Mirkwood.  He was more than ready to face the foes he was used to fighting.  He kept a wary eye on Thranduil while they rode, so he reacted immediately when the king pulled up on his reins and turned back towards him.  Falathar’s sword was drawn even as he scanned the surroundings frantically.

“Relax young one,” teased the king.  “I was only hoping that Lord Erestor would allow Estel to ride with me for a while.”

Estel’s sad eyes lit up a bit at the king’s suggestion.  “May I, Restor?”

Falathar relaxed his guard, chagrined to have over-reacted.  “I am becoming as jumpy as a novice,” he muttered, while Estel was transferred to Thranduil’s lap.  The troop continued as Legolas sang softly and Thranduil told stories to the homesick boy.  They had all taken turns attempting to buoy Estel’s spirits.

“Ada says I may not catch a spider.”

“What did you say?” asked the king, unsure he had heard correctly.

“Ada says I may not catch a spider,” Estel repeated. “I offered to bring one home.”

Thranduil chuckled.  “Mirkwood spiders are a bit larger than those of Imladris.”

Estel’s eyes grew wide, for he was curious about all living things.  “They are?”

“They are,” added Falathar.  “And they are large enough to swallow you whole, so I would not choose to venture around one.”

Estel shuddered.  “I think I want to go home.”

Legolas rolled his eyes at the chief of guards.  “You are frightening our guest,” he said, inclining his head towards the child.

“Oh?  Oh!”  Falathar finally caught on and hastened to reassure Estel. “But my warriors keep the spiders far away from our fortress, Estel.  I would never allow one near my king, or you.   I give you my word on that.” 

O-o-O-o-O

Elrond and Mithrandir walked into the healing room. The soft thumping of the wizard’s staff on the floor was all that could be heard, so silent was their approach.  The only illumination was provided by a small lamp situated on a table between the beds where the twins slept.  The draperies had been drawn back to allow the cool scents of night to refresh the air.  Soft shadows were cast by the flickering of the flame as a gentle breeze stole across the room.

Elrond could not help but smile at the sight of his son’s peaceful repose.  Even now, they still slept with the same habits they had as elflings.  Elrohir slept with nary a movement, his face serene and his covers unruffled, as though he had just retired.  Elladan, on the other hand, continually tossed and turned, wrapping his blankets around his legs.  His tangled hair fanned out across the pillow in all directions.

Completely different details were noticed by Mithrandir.  Elrohir was encased in a yellow blanket, far heavier than would normally be required, or even desired, by an elf.  And, most unexpectedly of all, Elladan slept with a stuffed animal of some kind!  There was a bizarre looking chair situated between the beds holding another blanket and a pillow.  A very small sock lay on the floor nearby.  The Maia’s eyebrows were fairly climbing his forehead as he beheld the unusual sight.

A young healer came out of the adjoining surgery, interrupting the thoughts of Elf Lord and Maia.  “My lords,” she nodded, speaking softly, so as not to disturb her sleeping patients.  “Sariboril asked me to help you attend the twins in her absence.”

Elrond’s own eyebrow hitched at the audacity of Sariboril, but he nodded pleasantly to the younger healer.  “Thank you. Since you have things well in hand, Mithrandir and I will be in the library.  Please notify us when the twins have awakened.”

The healer nodded her head and smiled.  “I will, my lord.”

“Sariboril is away too?” questioned the wizard.  “I have never known Erestor or Sariboril to leave Imladris.  Perhaps it is time you told me what else you are keeping hidden.”

“It is not a what, but rather who,” responded Elrond, stepping aside to allow the Maia to precede him from the room.   “I will have tea brought to the library and we will talk there.”

O-o-O-o-O

The inky blackness cloaked the night as the troop reached a particularly dense section of the route.  The west passage was rarely used because of its more difficult terrain.  Glorfindel trusted Asfaloth’s sure footing as he led the way.  The others horses would follow the lead of Glorfindel’s magnificent mount.

Asfaloth shook his great head and stopped.  His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air.  Alerted by his horse’s reaction, Glorfindel searched the surrounding forest for so much as a hint that anything was amiss. He could see nothing. Behind him, the riders all halted, curious as to the delay.

Estel was dozing, held securely in Thranduil’s arms.  The emotional separation from his father and brothers combined with the excitement of his first trip had exhausted the child. 

As soon as Asfaloth had paused, Falathar covertly moved his steed closer to that of Thranduil.  His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, even as his senses searched the forest sounds.  He did not like how the entourage was strung out along this steep incline.   Apparently the others guards felt the same way, for they edged their way up forming back into a more defensible position.

Not since the great battles of the second age had Thranduil felt such a prickling at the base of his neck.  He glanced down at the sleeping child in his care and pulled his cloak around to cover the boy.

The movement of the elf caught the eye of the large leader of this orc band, still hidden by magic of the wizard.  ‘A man child!  It must be the one my master has been seeking!’  A growl of pleasure rattled deep in the beast’s throat.  He would present the prize to his master himself.  Lifting his massive arm, he signaled the attack.

Even as he opened his mouth to shout the alert, Glorfindel saw the orcs burst from the forest from both sides.   “Imladris defend!” he shouted.   Striking down an orc attempting to spear him, Glorfindel wheeled Asfaloth.  “Falathar, lead your group away!”

Falathar kicked at an orc who wanted to take down his mount, and sliced off the arm of another attempting to kill Thranduil, who was busy trying to control his mount and hold onto Estel.  The king’s mount was war horse and expected to be leading the attack.  Finding himself held back was confusing the great steed so that he was, in essence, fighting with the king.

The Mirkwood guard reacted quickly to Glorfindel’s command, surrounding Thranduil and, with Falathar in the lead, led the king away from the fray.  Erestor and Sariboril were left isolated for a moment as the Imladris guards, having jumped from their horses, attempted to form a defensive perimeter. 

Legolas swung his mount around and started firing arrows at the advancing orcs.  When he had depleted all he had, he pulled his knives and started to dismount.

“No, Legolas!” shouted Glorfindel.  “Protect Estel!”

Legolas hesitated only a moment.  With a grim nod, he swung his leg back over and followed the Mirkwood guards.  It went against all his instincts to run from the fight, but he had given his word to the twins that he would not leave their brother.  He also had to consider that this might be a ruse to separate the two groups.  For all he knew there could be orcs ahead of them waiting to attack his father’s guard.

Erestor dismounted, giving his horse the freedom to fight the attackers with his hooves as trained.   The seneschal fluidly drew his sword.  Dressed for travel, in breeches and tunic rather than his customary robes, he was much better able to fight.   He turned even as three orcs rushed his position.  A swing of his sword connected with the first as he sliced downward and turned to decapitate the second. 

The third orc, however, got through his defenses and cut down Sariboril before the healer could secure her mount and retrieve some means of defense.  Sariboril’s cry alerted Erestor in time for him to dispatch the orc before he could finish off the healer. 

The Imladris guards succeeded in surrounding Erestor’s position even as Glorfindel was fighting his way in the same direction.  Dropping his sword, Erestor caught Sariboril in his arms. 

Glorfindel’s heart lurched as the caught sight of Erestor sinking to his knees.  He redoubled his efforts to reach his friend’s side. 

The huge orc leader, the hybrid experiment, growled as the man child was whisked away.  He broke off his own attack.  He had failed to bring back the child, but his master would want to know that the child had been found and was now with the light haired elves.  He would leave the orcs under his command to finish off this lot and return to Orthanc.

Legolas reached the Mirkwood guard as they broke from the forest into the large meadow marking the boundary of Imladris.  The peaceful scene of the meadow stood in sharp contrast to the scene of horror taking place in the woods behind.

Thranduil pulled on the reins, turning his horse and coming to a stop.  “Falathar, take some warriors back and help those elves!”

“My Lord!” Falathar protested.  “Your safety is my primary concern.”

Thranduil’s eyes blazed with sapphirine fire and the authority of millennia spent in command steeled his voice.  “Obey me!”

Duly chastened, Falathar chose his two best archers to accompany him back.  They could take to the trees and fire down at the orcs. 

Estel had not made a sound when awakened by the horrific screeches of the orcs.  The child now had a fist full of Thranduil’s tunic and had buried his head against the king’s chest.  The king could feel him shaking.

“Peace, little one,” he soothed, “we are safe here.”

Estel’s breathing hitched as he tried not to cry.  “Were those monsters?” he asked softly.

Thranduil frowned as he thought how best to reassure his small charge.  In many ways, Estel was blessed. He had spent most of his young life in the safety and security of Imladris surrounded by those who loved him and been spared the horrors of the life in the wild that his kinsmen lived. His innocent faith in all things good was the result.  Thranduil fervently hoped that Estel would never lose that streak of faith and at the same time wished that his Greenleaf could have been spared the harsh realities of his early life. 

The king smiled wistfully at the child.  How did one explain the concept of orcs, beings who had once been elves and now existed for the soul purpose of destruction, to one so innocent?  He supposed they really were monsters.  A phrase from a story his father used to tell him as an elfling came to his mind. ‘There be monsters here.’

Legolas watched the play of emotion on his father’s face with interest.  He made a mental note to ask his father later what he had been thinking.  He brought his horse closer.  “Estel, my adar and I will not let anything hurt you!” he promised, reaching out to pat the child’s leg.  “My adar is a mighty warrior and the best swordsman I know.”

Estel peeked out at Legolas.  “He is?”

Legolas smiled and nodded his head.  “He is!”

Thranduil met his son’s eyes and the moment shared by the two was one that would long be cherished by both of them.

In the distance the howl of a warg could be heard echoing across the meadow and Thranduil made a decision.  They could not wait here in what could be another ambush site.  He handed Estel to Legolas and drew his great golden sword to signal the remaining four of his guard.  “We ride for Mirkwood!”

 TBC