Healing Hope

Chapter 36

Home of the Wood-elves

“Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.”  --Helen Keller

Estel kept his head buried as Thranduil carried him into the palace cavern followed by Nárë and Legolas.  The child could easily tell when they had entered because of the shadow of darkness that penetrated even his closed eyes.  He tensed, his breath hitching as he tightened his hold around Thranduil’s neck while fighting off the memory of being thrown into the box and buried.

Thranduil quickened his step slightly when he felt Estel’s fear, for the child was as taut as a bowstring.  The hallway to the throne room ran straight for several hundred steps before taking a sharp turn to the left.  The king passed several corridors along the way to the great hall.  After making a right hand turn, it was just a few more steps until the king swept past the two guards at the doorway who dipped their heads in salute, but did not drop to a knee.  Tradition held that the guards to the throne room never removed their eyes from the passageway and possible danger.  So precipitously did the king and his entourage enter the room that several elves were caught unaware and gasped audibly before dropping to salute their king.  “Light all the torches,” commanded Thranduil, for the vast room was deeply shadowed.

As elves hurried to carry out his command, Thranduil spoke to Estel.  “Just a moment more, Estel, and you can open your eyes.”  He continued to pat the child’s back oblivious to the shocked stares of the elves gathered in the room who had been so surprised by the king’s entrance with the unknown child, for no child had been born in Mirkwood for many years.

Nárë was confused by the child’s behavior.  True, he had spent virtually no time in the presence of Edain, but this reaction seemed extreme.  The loremaster motioned for Legolas to follow him back into the corridor.  “Why is the child so frightened?”

Legolas quickly related the story of how Estel had been buried alive and abandoned to a slow and frightful death.

The Noldo’s eyes hardened as he listened; sickened that one of the firstborn could have acted so without honor towards the innocent.  It saddened him to see such a streak of cruelty in one of his own kind.  “Is that how his arm was injured?” 

Legolas shook his head and described the incident with the boar and the river. 

Nárë nodded his head as he listened to the tale, his thumb rubbing the cleft in his chin as he always did when deep in thought.  He would like to have asked more, but Legolas held up his hand.

“With respect, Lord Nárë, any more information should come from Adar.”  Legolas was anxious to return in case Estel needed him.  “Let us get back before Estel misses us.”

Nárë nodded again and followed the prince, his mind full of questions.  Why had Elrond of Imladris sent the child here and, more importantly, what had transpired to bring about the change of attitude in Thranduil?  Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that he could see the king acting so solicitously towards one of the second born.  Of all the elves in Middle Earth, Nárë knew and understood, better than any, the reasons why Thranduil felt as he did towards Edain.  This was a very interesting development and the wily elf was very much anticipating hearing the details.

As Legolas and Nárë joined Estel and Thranduil, the child was looking with wonder around the massive throne room of Mirkwood. 

“Legolas, it is so big!” exclaimed the child, his excitement overcoming his initial fear.  “Listen; it is talking back to me!”

Legolas smiled as Estel discovered his faint echo, and the prince looked around the chamber with new eyes, seeing it as though through the eyes of a child. 

For long years after Thranduil’s return from Dagorlad, the elves of Greenwood had seen their beautiful forest darkened by the blight of evil pouring from Dol Guldur.  Pushed ever backwards by the onslaught, they had watched Greenwood the Great sink to only a shell of its former glory, until it was called simply Mirkwood, and they grieved for the great and ancient trees lost and transformed into twisted, darkened masses. 

When the beleaguered king declared that they had retreated their last league, the determined elves began creating this fortress.  Built long before the Prince of Mirkwood was born, the cavernous room was originally intended to house all of the Wood-elves as a last resort should danger engulf their lands and over-power them.   Here they would make their stand, led by their beautiful and brave young king.  This would be their home, and if the end of all things came for the Wood-elves, their tomb. 

But the Firstborn are energetic and enterprising, and the Wood-elves are renowned for their stubbornness.  They had not the skill of the dwarves, but Nárë’s father, Náro, was Oropher’s Chief Counselor, and had apprenticed in Eregion under the tutelage of the great Celebrimbor.  Náro became wary of Celebrimbor’s obsession with crafting the great rings and moved his wife and two sons to Greenwood the Great, bringing the knowledge of his craft with him.  He passed his skills on to his sons, hoping that they would be able to live in peace, further perfecting their art.  Nárë did so, expanding his knowledge to the areas of design and architecture. 

As the months slipped by, Nárë helped to plan this vast complex of tunnels and rooms, utilizing the warmth from thermal springs running deep beneath the floors as well as the cooling river that openly flowed through the lower passages.  Deep storerooms were built to hold dried foods and herbs for time of siege, and even fresh water was stored in the event that the waters of the river were dammed or fouled beyond their ability to filter.  Cleverly designed and well hidden channels were constructed to bring in fresh air and also vent the smoke from torches or cooking. 

Rather than being a tomb, the cavern became a stronghold.  For a people that had wavered on the brink of sailing from Middle Earth forever, Mirkwood became a place of refuge and relief.  They determined to remain here rather than joined the rest of their kin in the Blessed Realm.

The warriors maintained their fragile grip on the surrounding forests and an uneasy boundary formed.  Through struggle and nerve, the Wood-elves maintained the new borders of Mirkwood and hope once more blossomed in their hearts.  Lives were bonded and new lives created, and their natural merry nature once again began to assert itself. 

Elves ventured out of the fortress, creating telain within sight of the great cavern.  Inside, the elves could turn loose their creative endeavors to make the palace now much more than just functional.  The vast pillars in the Throne Room were carved to resemble trees of beech, ash, and oak.  Intricate vines and trellises were carved and decorated with jewels.  They could not have the stars created by Ilúvatar, so they created their own with glittering jewels from the king’s own stores. 

To the rest of Arda, Thranduil was known as greedy and hungry for jewels and riches, but his elves knew that he desired these things not for himself, but for the beautification of their dwelling.  What he could not provide his subjects in security and stars, he gifted to them in splendor.  Let others think what they would about him, Thranduil cared not one twit about that.  His subjects and Mirkwood were what mattered to him....and his Greenleaf. 

Nárë watched the prince smiling at the young Adan.  The Wood-elves had been an insular group before all these struggles.  Afterwards, they were even more so.  Let the other elves and other races interact with each other, the Silvans preferred to be with their own kind.  Nárë and his brother, Veryo – who was as bold and brave as his name implied - learned that truth the hard way when they came here with their parents. 

Legolas was the exception to that rule.  Thranduil liked to say that the prince was born curious.  He possessed the beauty of his father and the lively good nature of his mother.  His heart accepted love as easily as it offered, and he chaffed when required to remain too long within Thranduil’s realm.  More than once the Noldo had been required to intercede with his friend on behalf of the prince.  'The loremaster had finally been able to persuade the king that the tighter he tried to hold on to his son, the more stubbornly Legolas would fight for freedom.  “Open your fist,” he advised the king, “and allow your son his wings.” 

Looking at Legolas now, Nárë knew that he had been right.  He had no elflings of his own; indeed, had never life bonded, but he had a father’s love and pride in Legolas that he never believed he could feel.  He moved to clasp his arm around Legolas’ shoulders.  “Shall we introduce the young one to one of the true wonders of Mirkwood?”  The pair looked expectantly at Estel.

“The bath?” the boy guessed, with a grimace.

“The bath!” echoed the elves.

As Thranduil started to walk towards the hallway, Legolas opened his mouth to give the warning for Estel to close his eyes, but the prince quickly closed his mouth when he caught the slight shake of the king’s head.  Momentarily confused, Legolas glanced at Nárë, who nodded knowingly. 

“Go ahead, my king, the prince and I shall follow shortly.”

Nárë placed his hand on Legolas’ arm to delay him, meeting the prince’s confused look with a smile.  “The child is distracted and talking with the king.”  He inclined his head in the direction of the retreating pair.  “You will note, I believe, the absence of his fear.”

Comprehension came into Legolas’ sapphire eyes and delight brightened his face.  “How did you know?”

Nárë chuckled.  “We were forced to learn the fine art of distraction when you were an elfling; else you would never have survived long enough to reach your majority.”

Legolas raised his eyebrows in mock innocence.  “I seem to remember being a rather perfect elfling.”

Nárë simply stared at the prince for a moment before bursting into laughter.  “Come, young prince, and let us join the king in the baths.”  As the two began walking, the Noldo turned conspiratorially to Legolas.  “I must admit that I am rather anxious to observe how your father handles a child’s bath time after so long a span of years.”

Legolas could not help but laugh.  “Especially this child, who is famous for not liking his bath!”

“All the better,” sniggered Nárë.  “I shall enjoy this!”

By the time the prince and the loremaster entered the elaborate royal bathing chamber, Thranduil had stripped off his traveling clothes and was working on those of the squirming boy. 

“Hold still, Estel: I am unfamiliar with how these clothes are attached,” muttered the king.

“Perhaps I may be of service,” offered Nárë, choking back a laugh.  The Noldo was quickly intrigued by the fastenings on the tunic.  “This is ingenious!”

“The tunic was specially made by Lord Erestor so that it could be easily removed without interfering with Estel’s cast,” explained Legolas.

Next it was Estel’s turn to be fascinated as the elf deftly unlaced his tunic with one hand.  So intrigued was the child that he wasn’t even flustered at the prospect of bathing with elves he did not know well.  Legolas had shared in the bathing routine at Imladris after Estel was injured and it took two of them at a time to clean the child and keep his cast dry, but Thranduil and Nárë were a different prospect.

Legolas quickly dropped his clothes and placed them beside all the others on a carved stone bench placed along the wall and dropped down into the waist deep water.  “Place your cast around my neck, Estel, and I shall hold you up so that it stays dry.” 

The pool was almost the size of Estel’s bedroom at home and though eying the prince with a bit of trepidation, the child obeyed after only a moment’s hesitation.  The water was extremely warm for it was part of the underground thermals, and steam rose in billowy waves, coating the entire wall in a moist sheen that reflected the torchlight, giving the room a golden hue.  A waterfall of the sizzling fluid cascaded down one wall constantly feeding the pool while a drain had been constructed on the opposite side keeping the waters fresh.  The pool was carved so that it slanted from the shallower end where Legolas stood holding Estel to a much deeper depth where Thranduil and Nárë now floated.

“We are not going over there, are we?” asked Estel nervously.

“No,” smiled the elf in reassurance, “we will stay on this side.”

As Legolas began to move away from the wall he could feel Estel tense, but kept his movements slow to give the child a chance to relax in his arms.  “There are minerals in the water that soothe the skin and also make us more buoyant,” he explained as he lowered them slightly so that the water was over Estel’s waist.

“What is boy-ant?” asked the child.

“It helps to keep us from sinking,” explained the prince.  “Is the water too hot?” 

Estel shook his head, the moisture of the room making his hair curl even more riotously than usual.  The warmth of the water was making him drowsy, and he laid his head on Legolas’ shoulder. 

The prince smiled.  “I am going to use my hand to put some water on your back now, tithen pen.”  Legolas cupped his hand to dip the water and pour it over the child’s back, careful not to wet the sling around his neck.  Legolas was sure that the sling must be wearisome for the child.  “Does that feel good?”

Estel, too relaxed to answer, simply nodded his head.  “Legolas?” he said after a few moments.

“Yes, Estel.”

“Is this where you took a bath when you were little?”

“It is,” replied the prince, “and my Ada would often hold me as I am holding you now.”

“No wonder you liked getting baths,” came the sleepy reply. 

“Why could not your baths have made you as sleepy as this little one,” inquired the king lazily.  “Instead, you were energized to run the halls of my palace with nary a stitch on!”

Legolas groaned.  “You take far too much delight in recounting that tale, Adar!”

Estel lifted his head from the prince’s shoulder.  “Was Legolas a fast runner?”

“He was,” answered Nárë, “and as slippery as an eel, for he often ran straight to my chambers.”  The Noldo submerged his entire body for a moment before coming up with a blustery surge of bubbles, shaking his head back and forth to rid his hair of the water and making Estel giggle at his antics.  “It was my job to hold the little mite until his Adar could don his leggings and follow.”

“One simply does not run through the halls without one’s breeches,” replied the king imperially, as he continued to float on his back.  His hair drifted in the water around his head like a silken coronet.  “It would not do to put one’s guards to shame over their...inability to measure up,” he added with a wicked grin.

Nárë flipped some water over the king’s face.  “Are you implying that the rest of us fail to match up to the king’s assets?”

“It is a well known fact that my treasure store is the largest...” the king came to a sputtering halt as the Noldo ducked him under the water

“You were saying, my lord?”

Legolas interrupted the playfully jousting pair before the king could reply.  “I believe I shall get this little one settled into some sleeping clothes and then fed his dinner before he falls asleep.”  He sat Estel on the edge of the pool and quickly jumped out himself.  Soft drying cloths were stacked on a shelf carved from the walls, and Legolas grabbed a couple of these.  He wrapped one around Estel’s shoulders before quickly drying himself off.  He looked askance at the two elves still in the water.  “Perhaps you two should dress here lest you dazzle the guards with your glory!” 

“An excellent suggestion, young prince!” drawled Nárë, causing Legolas to laugh as he picked up Estel and started from the room.

The prince quickly traveled down the hallway to his room.  He was relieved to see that the oil lamps had all been lit and the simple meal he had ordered was waiting on a table.  He padded across the floor and sat Estel on the bed.  “Now what to put you in...” he wondered.  Estel’s clothes and supplies had all been left behind in the dash from the attacking orcs.  “Ah,” Legolas decided, pulling a soft, linen tunic from the drawer, “this shall work.”  He untied the sling and slipped it from around Estel’s neck, then worked the sleeve of the tunic over the cast.  The shirt would hang to Estel’s ankles if he stood up.  “This will keep you warm,” he added.

The prince pulled back the covers, plumped up a couple of the pillows, and snuggled the boy against them.  Next he selected some fruit, cheese, and bread from the provided tray and brought them back to the bed.  “Try some of this Estel.” 

Estel sleepily eyed the plate, too content to move.

“You will sleep better if you eat something,” coaxed the elf, waving the warm bread under the boy’s nose.

Estel smiled at the prince and took the bread.  “Will you stay with me?” he asked as he chewed. 

“Yes, I will,” answered Legolas.  “This is my room.”

Estel looked around curiously.  The room was a bit smaller than the one he was used to in Imladris, but no less richly decorated.  Where Estel had a terrace however, this room was solid, almost circular.  A washroom, much smaller than the royal baths, opened off to one side, and a large wardrobe seemed built into the very wall itself.  The floor was covered by a woven rug patterned with a tapestry of woods, vines, and primroses.  Along one wall were cleverly built shelves displaying a fascinating collection of weapons.  But what took away the child’s breath was the ceiling, which was speckled with a glittering array of adamants designed in the image of the constellations and magically reflecting the light from the oil lamps.  Intricate venting along the walls kept fresh air circulating throughout the chamber.

“It is beautiful,” breathed Estel, lost in the splendor of the ceiling.  “You can go to sleep looking at the stars!”

Legolas smiled at the wonder on the child’s face.  “I have always loved sleeping under the stars.”  He glanced up, his eyes following the beloved patterns.  “As long as I can remember, these stars have lulled me to sleep at night.”

“I am finished eating,” Estel said after a while.

Legolas took the plate and put it away.  He extinguished all but one of the lamps, leaving the one designed so that it reflected upon the ceiling.  The prince crossed back to the bed and settled down beside the boy, pulling the child into his arms to sleep.

Full, clean, and feeling decidedly safe, Estel snuggled comfortable beside the prince.  “Legolas?”

“Yes, Estel.”

“I am glad that you are my friend.”

The prince smiled into the darkness.  “I am glad that I am your friend too.”

“And my brother,” the boy added sleepily.

“And your brother,” echoed the prince, allowing himself to drift into the waking dreams of the elves.

TBC