Healing Hope

Chapter Forty Five

Mist and Shadow

“Mist and Shadow, Cloud and Shade, All shall fade!  All shall fade...” Pippin, Return of the King

Imladris

Elrohir sighed deeply as the wind picked up slightly and blew a few strands of his hair across his face.  “Do you think Arwen will ever be able to return here, El?”

“One day she will,” Elladan vowed.  “One day she will.”

Long after Elrohir, Glorfindel and even Erestor had gone back inside the residence, Elladan stood looking in the direction in which the Lórien party had ridden.  The shadows of night had been chased away, but only a gray, foggy dawn, heavy with the scent of rain, remained.  The weather matched the young elf’s mood as he strolled across the yards to the stables.  Golden leaves in the colors of Firith had begun to fall and swirled in eddies around his legs as he crossed the distance.

Entering the stable where all the family horses were kept, Elladan paused to breathe in the familiar scents of horse, leather, and fresh hay.  He had missed it so much when confined to the healing rooms, but even the comforting atmosphere of the stable could not lift his spirits.

Celos lifted his head as soon as Elladan entered the stables.  The great white immediately backed out of his open stall and started walking towards the twin.

Still leaning against the side of the stable entrance deep in thought, Elladan was surprised when Celos came into focus in front of him.   He immediately reached out and flung his arms around the stallion’s neck, burying his face against the coat of his horse as a sob rose in his chest.  Elladan clung to Celos for as long as the unexpected storm lasted and then the twin quickly and self-consciously scrubbed at the damning tear tracks on his face....evidence of his weakness, or so he believed.

Before he even knew what he was doing Elladan mounted Celos, straining his injured shoulder in the process.  The twin ignored the pain as he luxuriated in the feel of Celos between his knees and rode the stallion from the yard.  At the moment he did not even care where he was going so long as he could just ride.  He would allow Celos to warm up and then set whatever pace the feisty stallion wanted.

The Hall of Fire

Elrond glanced up from where he was seated with Mithrandir.  “Where is your brother?”

Elrohir stopped and looked behind him as though surprised that his twin was not walking behind him.  “I thought he was right behind me,” he offered. “Is there anything wrong?”

Elrond’s eyebrow rose.  “I have released you and Elladan from the healing rooms, but you are not to engage in anything remotely strenuous.”

Elrohir smiled at his father as he kissed the top of his head and then slid into the seat beside him.  “I promise, Ada, we will be on our best behavior.”

“Elrohir,” the Elf Lord intoned dispassionately, “you have not been on your best behavior since you reached your majority.”

The twin playfully grabbed the area of his chest located directly over his heart.  “Ada, I am wounded.”

From across the table Mithrandir chuckled.  “Never again shall I think of Imladris as staid.”

Elrond and Elrohir stared at the Maia. 

“Mithrandir,” said Elrond, glancing at Elrohir, “I am wounded.”

Elrohir burst out laughing at the look on the wizard’s face.  “You did not know he had it in him, did you?”

“I see that a lot has changed since my last visit, and that intrigues me.”

“It is not anything too unusual, my friend.”

“It is Estel,” smiled Elrohir.  “He has a way of making you see life in fresh new ways, as when arda was first formed.”

“Why Elrohir,’ exclaimed Mithrandir, “that was quite poetic.”  Then the Maia chuckled and hitched his shaggy eyebrow.  “I did not know you had it in you!”

Unnoticed, Glorfindel watched the three bantering back and forth.  It was all well and good, but he was not fooled.

The Healing Wing, Imladris

“I will not stay in this bed one moment longer!”

“Now Mistress Sariboril,” soothed the young healer, who was, of a sudden, feeling very much over his head, “you should remain abed for at least another three days.”

“Three days!” Sariboril all but shouted.   “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

The healer crossed his arms and looked down at his Mistress.  “You may have taught me everything I know about healing, but there was one very important lessen you failed to impart.”

Suspicious, Sariboril took the bait.  “And just what would that be?”

Ah ha, he smiled to himself.  “How to deal with a stubborn, bull-headed, Mistress!”

Sariboril opened and closed her mouth several times before finally finding her voice. “Bull-headed?” 

“Here now, what is all this noise?” 

Both healers turned towards the newcomer. 

“Lord Erestor,” sighed the younger healer.  “Thank the Valar, my Lord; perhaps you can talk some sense into my Mistress.”

“I gave up on that hope eons ago,” sighed the Seneschal.

“I see that you have not lost your biting sense of humor,” droned Sariboril. 

“One does what one must,” replied Erestor.  “Now, what is the source of all this racket?”

“Her!”

“Him!”

“I see,” nodded Erestor.  “We have a disagreement.”

“And I see that you have also not lost your talent for stating the obvious,” Sariboril snapped.

“Mistress Sariboril insists upon getting out of bed,” replied the healer, “and she is simply not ready.”

“I know well enough when I am ready,” stated the fiery healer, leveling her gaze at the fidgeting healer.

A new voice from the doorway joined the discussion.

“Perhaps I should be the judge of that.”

“My Lord!” bowed the young healer, vastly relieved to be off the hook!

Erestor all but smirked as he glanced at Sariboril.  “An excellent idea!”

“Well, Sariboril,” asked Elrond, “shall you accept my judgment?”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir walked back outside after breaking his fast, curious as to the whereabouts of his twin.  It was not like Elladan to miss a meal, the twin chuckled to himself.  Growing serious, Elrohir stopped to listen to the disquiet that had been growing in his heart, and he realized this disquiet had nothing to do with Estel or Arwen’s departure. 

Fear slammed into him like a slap to the face as he stopped short, realizing that his twin was in distress!  The more he thought about it the more concerned he became about Elladan’s recent demeanor.  Why had he not seen it before, the twin berated himself.  He had simply attributed it to all that had been going on, but now, as Elrohir thought back, he realized his twin had been strangely withdrawn, almost emotionally devoid.

There was one place that Elladan was sure to seek comfort.  Elrohir headed towards the stables, ignoring the wind that was picking up speed and buffeting against him as he walked.  The temperature had dropped several degrees and the cool wind that had been comfortable earlier would be too cold for Estel now. 

Elrohir paused as he realized what he had just thought.  His little brother was not even here and still his first thought on the changing weather had been on how it would affect his baby brother.  He smiled as he entered the stables, comforted by thoughts of one brother while still troubled by those of another.

Celon whinnied and pulled at the rope fastened around his neck as Elrohir came inside. 

“He has been kicking up a fuss ever since I got here,” said Aradol, walking from the back of the stables with a fresh bunch of hay.  “I had to tie him to keep him from taking off.”

“You mean literally leaving?” Elrohir asked, quite truly astonished, for it was rare for an Elven mount to go anywhere without his rider.  He approached the white.  “Whoa boy,” he soothed.

Celon quieted at Elrohir’s touch.  Fluffy was perched on the wall between the stalls of Celos and Celon watching the goings on with interest even as he washed his face with his little paws.

“Where is Celos?” asked Elrohir, thinking he probably knew if not where the stallion was, with whom he was with.

“I do not know, Elrohir,” Aradol answered.  “He was gone when I arrived.”

“El must have taken him,” Elrohir sighed.  “Ada will slap us back into the healing rooms for sure if he finds out.”   He looked out at the quickly gathering clouds gauging his options.  Either he could wait here for his Ada to discover Elladan’s adventure or he could go find his twin and they could face their doom together.  There really was no choice, he chuckled to himself.  If he was going to be stuck back into the healing rooms, he might as well get a good ride out of it.  Besides, he and El always faced everything together.  The twin quickly untied Celon’s neck and jumped onto his back. “No, Fluffy,” he spoke to the kitten, who was making ready to jump onto the horse’s back with him, “you must stay here.”  He backed Celon from the stall.  “Let us go find our brothers, my friend,” he said, patting the great white’s neck.   

O-o-O-o-O

Elladan rode for what seemed like hours neither paying attention to where he went nor guiding Celos in any particular direction.   The stallion, thrilled to once again be reunited with his master, seemed to have sensed Elladan’s mood and given them both a good workout. 

The twin slid from Celos’ back and sank onto the rocky ground.  The tall trees were shrouded to a misty grey and all around him seemed as fogged and cheerless as his own heart.  It was as though a great river of ice was running though his veins as he struggled to fight off the realization of what was happening within his body.  He held up the damning arm, flexing and re-flexing the hand as though by force of will he could make the grip what it should be.

So far he had been able to keep his condition from his father, but Elladan knew that it was just a matter of time before Elrond noticed the disability.  It was only the distraction of all else that had bought him this much time.  Once it became known to more than himself, Elladan realized that he would have to own the truth that until now he had disclaimed.

Bitterness rose in the twin, matching the violence of the gathering clouds.  A deep rumble rent the air as jagged pieces of lightening crisscrossed the sky, but the deeply troubled elf ignored the show of light.  Elladan had been a warrior for centuries and survived uncounted orc battles.  How could it have come to this?  Questions swirled in his brain until he pushed at his own temples as though he could squeeze the nagging words from his very brain.

How could he defend Imladris...his home, if he could not even grip his sword or a bow properly?  How could he allow Elrohir to fight beside him when he could not defend his twin as he always had?  How?  How?  How?  The questions would not stop ringing in his mind until the first bitter tears of self pity stung his eyes.

And that, he realized immediately, was the worst thing of all.  In all the years since his mother’s attack and sailing, Elladan Elrondion had felt many things, but self pity was not one of them.  He was ashamed to feel it now.  As the heavy rain finally escaped the clouds, Elladan looked up with torment in his eyes and heart, wishing that he could be rinsed clean of these feelings, but redemption was not to be found in the falling torrents.

Mirkwood

The candles burned down dimming the room even more as Thranduil sighed contentedly.  Beside him, Legolas glanced at his father.  “It has been too long since we enjoyed the stars together.”

A shadow crossed the King’s face as he looked down at Estel and then at his son.  “I used to view the stars with my father...real stars, not the ones we are forced to see now.”

It grieved Legolas to see his father so saddened.  Legolas had never known Mirkwood when it was Greenwood the Great...had never seen it at its full glory, but what they had managed to defend against the dark one he loved.  It may be just a glimmer of its former glory, but Legolas loved every foot of it and would gladly die defending it.  “No King could have saved more of our home than you have!”  He sat up so that he could look his father in the eye.  “I swear to you, Adar, one day arda will be rid of Sauron and together, you and I will gaze upon stars unmarred by Mordor’s fume.”

Thranduil’s hearted melted anew, for ever was his Greenleaf a joy.  “I see Oropher’s fire you in, my son, tempered by your mother’s good sense.”

“Do not forget a liberal peppering of his father’s ego,” chimed in Nárë, awakening from his nap at the foot of the bed.

“So,” snorted Thranduil, “the swordmaster of Mirkwood finally rouses from his sleep!”

Nárë sat up, stretching his arm above his head as he did so.  “Does my liege mock me?” he inquired with a crooked grin.   

“Ada?”  Estel’s sleep filled eyes batted as the child sat up.  “Ada?”

Thranduil smiled. “No child, your Ada is not here.”

“King Adar?”

“Yes, Estel, you are in Mirkwood with me and with Legolas,” the King soothed, as the confused child was finding his bearings.  “You slept so hard that you have forgotten where you are.”

Estel rubbed his eyes with the heelof his hand and gave a lusty yawn, bringing a chuckle to the three elves.

“For such a small child that was a very big yawn!” Legolas teased.

His eyes wide as saucers, Estel was suddenly wiggling like a worm on a hook.

“I know what that means,” said Legolas quickly.  “Come Estel, I shall take you to the privy.”  The prince held out his arms and the child was handed to him by a grateful King, who would have been vastly uncomfortable to have been anointed.

As Legolas took Estel into the adjoining chamber, Thranduil settled back against the pillows.

Nárë quirked an eyebrow at his friend.  “You look far too contented.”

“I have just passed a peaceful night with my son by my side,” Thranduil opined.  “One could hardly do better than that!” 

Before Nárë could answer a bloodied guard entered the chamber.  “My lord, we are under attack!”

TBC

Translation

Firith: Autumnal Equinox