Healing Hope

Chapter Forty Eight

Revelations

“A bad word whispered will echo a hundred miles.” Chinese proverb

Mirkwood

Thranduil paced the confines of his study for several moments after the latest report from the battlefield.  Over and over the words played in his mind...even a Nazgûl.  Could it be Angmar?  The King found himself automatically reaching for his sword.  This was not to be countenanced!  That evil being had cost him too much already; he would not yield one more bit of his land to the darkness.

His mind made up, Thranduil strode from the study and into the great hall where the empty throne now sat.  The room was still emptied from his earlier order, and any sound his soft steps made was swallowed by the cavernous reaches of the chamber.  He stopped at the doorway and motioned to his guards.

“Call out the rest of my personal guard,” he commanded.  “We are joining the fight.”

The guards quickly exchanged a look, bowed, and hurried to do the King’s bidding.

Thranduil summoned an aide who was never far from the throne room.  “Gather inside all of the elves dwelling outside the palace.  I am placing Nárë in command of the last defenses while I am away.

“Yes, my Lord,” the elf bowed, alarm showing on his fair face.  “It shall be as you command.”

Even as the elf hurried to begin preparations, Thranduil spun around and began the trek through the palace to Nárë’s chambers.  The look on the monarch’s face kept anyone from attempting casual conversation.  Instead, heads bowed, most simply took a knee until their King passed. 

Thranduil stopped off at his own chamber before continuing to confer with Nárë.  Quickly he removed the ceremonial sword he had strapped to his side and laid it aside.  Almost with reverence he took down his father’s sword from its place of honor on the wall.  Ever so slowly he pulled the gleaming weapon from its sheath, remembering the last time he’d seen his father yield this weapon.  With purposeful motions he returned the sword to its sheath and attached it to waist.   If Angmar was in this battle, Thranduil would meet him bearing his father’s sword.

Next Thranduil went to Nárë’s chamber and entered.  The elf and Estel were sitting on the bed where Estel seemed to be nibbling slowly on bread and cheese.  The King was too preoccupied to notice the child’s troubled countenance.  “Nárë, I have need of you.”

Nárë was dumbfounded to see Thranduil wearing Oropher’s sword.  “Thranduil?”

“The battle goes ill; I am joining Legolas there.” He glanced quickly at Estel and realized that provision must be made for the child.  “I am placing you in charge of all defenses for Mirkwood.”

Nárë rose from the bed ready to challenge the order. “My place is by your side!”

“Not this time, my friend,” Thranduil said kindly.  “All the out-dwellers are being summoned inside the palace; it may come to siege.”

Nárë glanced down slowly to Estel, his mind racing over all that was happening.  He knew the child had many questions thanks to the unfortunate reference to his humanity, but there was not time for them under these circumstances.  “I will summon an elleth to remain with Estel,” he said thoughtfully, as he sat down next to the boy once again.  “Estel, I am called away to duty, but you and I shall have our talk when I return.”

Estel met his eyes and nodded. 

Even with so much on his mind, Thranduil was puzzled by Estel’s behavior.  The child seemed withdrawn, but perhaps he was simply still disturbed by the bloodied warrior he had seen earlier.  He placed his hand on Estel’s mop of curls and tussled them fondly.  “You will be safe here, Estel.”

Estel’s wide, solemn eyes met his and the child nodded again.  “Are you going to fight, King Thrandue?”

“I am, Estel.”  Thranduil knelt down beside the bed so that he could be on the same level with the child.  He sensed the boy’s confusion but misunderstood its source. “Nárë will be close by.” 

“I know,” Estel answered softly.  He wanted to ask King Adar if he was human, but instinctively knew that now was not the time.  Estel had so many questions that he was bursting to ask, but at the same time he was afraid of the answers and unsure of himself.  All his life he felt loved and cherished by his family and now he simply felt...different.  It was a scary feeling...a lonely feeling, and he still did not understand how a human was not the same as an elf.  Restor said that he ate as much as a mûmak, whatever that was.  Perhaps that was how a human was different than an elf...they ate more. 

Thranduil watched the child’s eyebrows draw together as he pondered the situation.   “I must go, Estel; I can linger no longer.”

Estel nodded and then threw his arms around the King’s neck.  “Be careful, King Adar.”

Thranduil hugged the child close for a moment and then sat him back.  “I will be careful, young one.”  The King rose and motioned for Nárë to follow him.  “Act quickly, my friend,” he said when they were in the hallway.  “I do not know how much time you will have.”

“I do not like you going into battle without me to watch your back,” Nárë growled. “Stay here and let me go.”

“No,” Thranduil shook his head. 

“Why are you so stubborn?” Nárë asked, growing suspicious.  “What is it about this battle that is so different than all the rest?”

Thranduil would not meet his friend’s eyes for long moments as he considered his answer.  “Angmar may be there.”

“I see,” Nárë answered softly, as dread filled his stomach.  “Our old friend...”

“Our old friend,” Thranduil echoed.  “I must go.”  He paused and looked back to meet Nárë’s eyes.  “If I see that we are going to fall, I shall send a messenger to Lórien.”  He took Nárë’s elbow and squeezed it for emphasis.  “You must hold out until help arrives.”

“You just see that you do not fall, my King,” said Nárë.  “I will see to the arrangements here, you have my word.”

With a nod, Thranduil turned and started down the hallway, his mind already on the coming battle.

Imladris

It was close to dawn when Glorfindel and Elrohir finally made it back to the Last Homely House.  They stopped several times during the journey back to attempt rousing Elladan, who had slipped into a deeper version of waking sleep.  Glorfindel had never seen symptoms such as the twin was exhibiting, and Elrohir was nearly beside himself with concern.  The pair had finally given up stopping in favor of getting the twin back to Elrond as quickly as possible.

“Elrohir,” Glorfindel called over his shoulder, “ride ahead to alert your father.”

Elrohir pulled Celon past Asfaloth and rode quickly into the yard.   As the horse pulled up to the front of the house, the twin jumped from his back and raced up the steps.  He met his father in the front hallway.

Elrond had been waiting all night in his study for Glorfindel to return with his sons and had heard Elrohir ride into the yard.  “Elrohir, what has happened?”

“Ada,” Elrohir cried, “Elladan will not awaken.”

Elrond’s calm demeanor soothed his frightened son.  “Take a breath, Elrohir, and explain what you mean.”  He placed his hands on the twin’s shoulders and looked him in the eye.  “Begin at the beginning.”

Elrohir tried to calm his breathing.  “I found him in the wilds,” the twin began slowly. “He has been hiding the pain in his shoulder from us.”

Elrond digested that piece of information.  “What else?”

“I thought he was exhausted when he drifted off to sleep, but we have been unable to rouse him for more than a moment at a time.”

Elrond’s brows drew together, in an action eerily similar to his youngest, as he pondered the twin’s words.   Aware that Elrohir was closely watching him, the Elf Lord smiled confidently at his child.  “We will find out what is wrong with your brother.”

Elrohir closed his eyes as relief flooded his heart.  He was home now and his Ada would know how to help Elladan.

Erestor came down the stairs to stand beside the pair.  “The surgery is prepared.”

“Thank you, Erestor,” said Elrond absentmindedly.

“Elrohir,” asked Elrond thoughtfully, “did you observe any new wounds on your brother?”

“No, Ada,” said the twin, “there were none that I could see, but I did not look further.”

Glorfindel could be heard riding into the yard. The three walked out onto the steps to meet him. 

Quickly, Glorfindel slid from Asfaloth’s back holding Elladan as carefully as he could. 

“Has he awakened?” asked Elrohir hopefully.

Glorfindel shook his head, looking all the while at Elrond. 

“Carry him upstairs, Glorfindel,” said Elrond.  “We need to remove his clothes and look for any new wounds.”

Emyn-nu-Fuin

The battle had begun to blur in its intensity.  As soon as he would dispatch one enemy it seemed that another was there to take its place.  Legolas could not remember a battle more desperate than this one.  He had been fighting nonstop for what seemed like days now and still the orcs and spiders came at them.  There were places where the bodies of the evil beings lay piled in heaps, and still they came.  It was as though the gates of Mordor itself had opened up and spewed forth the foul beings until it was empty.

“Legolas, look out!” called Falathar, throwing his knife at an orc about to attack the prince from the blind side.

Legolas dodged to his left at Falathar’s warning and saw the orc drop, his friend’s knife embedded in its back.   Neither elf had time to acknowledge how close a call that had been because they were both engaged immediately by the determined enemy.

The prince had long since exhausted his supply of arrows and been forced to fight with his knives.  At every lull in the fighting the elves would quickly retrieve their expended arrows to reuse those still in good enough shape to be fired again.  Even with his skill, Legolas had numerous nicks and cuts from the orc blades.  Blood trickled down the left side of his face from where he had been head butted by one of the beasts.  The sight and smell of the blood seemed to throw his enemies into a frenzy of attack, and the prince had been hard pressed at times to fight them off.

Legolas ducked a blow meant to decapitate him and lunged, sliding his knife into the gut of the orc.  Even as he pulled it out, he felt a presence at his back and turned, ready to repeat the action.

“Whoa,” cried Falathar, dodging the knife.  “I have not survived against all these orcs only to be downed by my best friend,” he joked.  “Come on, we are pulling back.”

“No!” yelled Legolas, so that all could hear.  “We retreat no more!”  The look in his eye defied any to disagree.

“Legolas, we must withdraw!” argued Falathar.  “We are being out flanked.”

Legolas was panting with exhaustion as he scanned the battleground.  “We are being driven back,” he said disbelievingly.   Giving in to the inevitable, Legolas nodded his head wearily.  The taste of retreat was bitter in his mouth.   As he was about to give the order, the sound of a mighty battle cry reverberated through the area.  “Adar!” Legolas cried in wonder.

Thranduil quickly sized up the situation and sent half of his troop to impede the flanking action while he and the rest of his warriors shored up the elves fighting on the front.  The fresh influx of warriors buoyed the exhausted elves and gave them new energy.

Legolas took a moment to grin fiercely at his father.  In his golden armor, his flaxen hair flowing behind him, his Adar was glorious.  Most amazing though was the magnificent sword his father was wielding with such fervor.   Legolas immediately recognized it as Oropher’s golden sword.  It was as though his father was a golden vision swooping onto the field of battle like an avenging spirit.  The Valar themselves would be impressed by such a sight!

“Fight!” yelled Legolas, turning once again to the battle.  “No more retreat!”  The prince waded into the fray with renewed vigor, the pain and fatigue forgotten.

Legolas’ Chambers

Estel sat on the bed looking at the elleth standing before him.  He was not sure he liked the idea of an elleth looking after him, and his eyebrows met in the middle as he frowned up at her.  His lips were pursed giving him what his brothers called his stubborn look.

“Now Estel,” she said sweetly, “you need not look at me like that!”

“I do not need a bath,” the boy said obstinately.  Why the very idea of the elleth giving him a bath was appalling.  Estel had never, that he could remember, been cared for by an elleth!  Mistress Sariboril was the closest he had come to feminine caretaking, and she only kept him in bed when he felt bad.  Cook gave him seed cakes and blueberry muffins, never a bath!  “I do not need a bath,” he repeated.  “I promise.”  He smiled at the elleth, whose name was Lariel, to show that he was not being disobedient or disrespectful, only informative.

Lariel smiled at the elfling that Nárë had asked her to watch over. There had not been an elfling in Mirkwood in many years so she was enchanted with the young one. She found his dark curls very interesting, but thought perhaps they were part of his Noldo heritage.  Lariel had spent her life in Mirkwood and never actually seen a Noldo so she had no idea how they might appear.  “Let us get you changed into your sleeping clothes,” she said, helping the elfling remove his tunic.  She pulled it carefully around his injured arm.  When she held up the leggings, the frown reappeared.

“Turn around,” Estel insisted.

Lariel frowned herself.  The Noldor Elves certainly had some strange ways. “Can you manage with just one arm?”

Estel nodded, determined that he would not need the elleth’s help to get on his leggings.

Lariel obligingly turned around, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the sweet, though strange, embarrassment of the elfling. 

After several moments of grunts and gyrations, Estel informed Lariel that she could turn around.  He was smiling proudly.  “See, I told you I could do it by myself.”

“So I see,” she agreed.  “Now it is time for sleep.”

Estel crawled under the covers and stifled a yawn.  “Lariel, how are human’s different from elves?”

“Humans?” Lariel repeated, with repulsion.  She hated humans for what had happened to her brother.

Estel nodded, dismayed at the tone of her voice.

“Humans, thank the Valar, are mortal.”

Estel did not understand what the word mortal meant, but it did not sound too bad.  “How else?”

“Well,” she said, warming to the subject, “they smell bad and they are very stupid.”

“Oh,” said Estel softly. 

“They are cowards and they act impetuously,” she continued. “And, they are not to be trusted, ever.”

Estel frowned as he thought about the elleth’s words.  “I think I will go to sleep now, Lariel.”  He closed his eyes with the damning words ringing in his mind.  “Thank you for telling me.”

“You are welcome, Estel,” Lariel responded sweetly.  “Go to sleep now, and no more talk of humans.”  She left the chamber never realizing that the young one lay pondering her words.

Estel was glad the stars were on the ceiling for he was very lonely this night. 

TBC