Healing Hope

Chapter Fifty

Im Aníron Ada

The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other.--Burton Hillis

Estel lay in the darkness trying not to shiver as tears of distress rolled down his chubby cheeks. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could, hoping to make this nightmare go away. The darkness seemed to cling to him with a malevolency that took his breath away and called out to him of the dark memories.

“Ada?” the small voice spoke into the darkness. He finally managed to pry open his eyes only to be once again terrified by the fact that even after blinking several times, there was no light to be found. Fear quickly gave way to horror as the child struggled to understand the circumstances in which he now found himself. “Ada?” he cried again as terror gripped him.

How could this be happening? He was supposed to be safe with his friend, Legolas. King Thran-due said he would always take care of him, did he not? Estel curled into a ball as his breath came quicker. Maybe Lariel told them that he was a human and they did not like him any longer. Why else would everyone leave him alone in the darkness?

His fear gave rise to the nightmarish memory of his ordeal with Quenthar. The recollection began to replay itself in his mind. He was in his Ada’s bed when he woke up and saw the bad elf put the knife in Restor’s back. “Restor!” he cried at the remembrance of the elf trying to reach him…telling him to run. Then the bad elf grabbed him from the bed, hurting his mouth. It hurt even more when they jumped from the ledge and landed on the flagstones below. He could even remember how it felt to be falling! When they landed the elf dropped him, and he rolled slightly away, tearing the bandage off of his lip and making the cut bleed once again. He wanted to cry out but the force of the fall knocked the breath from him, and then the bad elf grabbed him up again, covering his mouth so that he could not call his Ada. He knew his Ada would come for him if he could just call him!

They had run and run through the darkness, away from home and safety...away from all those who loved him. Estel whimpered as he remembered the stinging scratches on his arms where they had been torn by the bushes during the flight. His eyes opened wide as the final, horrible memory made itself known to him. The hole! The elf had cleared away the brush and uncovered a hole. Before Estel could even react, he was shoved into the hole. The opening closed and he was alone in the darkness.

Estel gasped as his airway seemed to close up. Desperately he wanted his father and brothers. He closed his eyes tightly again trying desperately to escape the darkness and fear. A thought came to him then and he grasped it as a drowning man would grasp a life saving rope. It was the memory of the conversation he had with Legolas on the flet the day they had chased bur-der-blys and looked at ba-lowers. He had been sad that day too, and Legolas made him feel better.

Estel remembered being terribly frightened when they crossed the mountains and how Legolas had kept him safe. He wished his friend was with him now, if he was still his friend. Estel’s heart felt so sad at the thought that the prince would not like him any longer. “You are a human,” Lariel’s voice kept repeating in his mind. Then a new fear took hold. What if his Ada or gwedeir did not know he was a human? What if they would not love him any longer? The child’s mind swirled as rapidly as the eddies of the Bruinen and just as violently. Lariel had been nice until she had found out he was human and then she did not like him any longer.

“We are all sad sometimes,” the prince’s word spoke to him in the darkness. Estel tried desperately to remember what else Legolas told him on the flet that made him feel better. “I am sad when I see the evil that has claimed so much of my homeland, but I am happy that our cavern fortress is a safe place for us to live.” That was it! He was remembering! “I was sad when you hurt your arm,” Legolas had added, “but I am happy now that it is healing.” Estel’s breathing eased slightly as the memory of that day came back to him.

Legolas explained to Estel that happiness can be found inside each of us and that his Ada’s love was always with him even when he could not see it.

Estel pictured how some of the elves of Mirkwood looked at him when he arrived. Those elves must have realized that he was a human somehow, the child reasoned, biting on his bottom lip as he considered what that meant. The answer came to him in a burst of inspiration. He must not let anyone else ever find out that he was human!

Estel tried to think of something that made him happy like he’d done when he was with Legolas. He had many happy memories to think of, but one in particular came to his mind, dulling the fear as he journeyed to that happy place.

Estel was snuggled on his Ada’s lap listening to a story. It was cold and blustery outside his home, but he was wrapped in his sunshine blankey. His head rested on Ada’s chest where the heartbeat was as comforting as the strong arms holding him and as constant as his Ada’s love for him.

Estel smiled and hugged his pillow closely as he thought about that night, willing his Ada’s love to surround him as Legolas had promised. If he concentrated really hard, he could almost feel the motion of the special chair made for him by Glorfy. How Estel loved to be rocked in that chair! Without even realizing it he rocked himself on the bed as the darkness around him morphed into a scene more familiar.

As Estel was cuddled by his Ada, Erestor came into the room bearing a mug of warm milk flavored with nutmeg. Estel loved his milk in this special way that Restor said was just for him, especially on cold nights. He sat up and eagerly sipped the milk while his Ada and Restor spoke of the next day’s happenings.

Outside, fluffy white petals began to drift down, enchanting the child with their timeless magic. “Ada, look!” he cried, wonder shining in his voice. “It is snowing!”

“So I see, Estel,” Elrond replied, following his son’s gaze. His smile warmed the child more than the sunshine blankey, for Estel loved his Ada’s smile.

“So Estel,” said a familiar voice from the doorway, “are you ready for your birth-day?”

Estel looked up to see Elladan and Elrohir entering his bedroom with matching smiles. “Will I really be three whole years old tomorrow?” he asked eagerly, bringing chuckles to his brothers.

“Yes, you certainly will,” answered Elrohir.

“Dan...Ro, look!” Estel cried, pointing at the terrace as he remembered the miracle taking place outside. “It is snowing for my birf-day!” The child was shivering with anticipation.

Elladan stood staring at Estel a moment and then took the child from his father’s lap. He hugged the boy close, kissing his forehead and murmuring softly, “It snowed the day you were born, Little Love.”

Estel eagerly hugged his brother’s neck before pulling back to look at his face. “It did?” he asked, knowing full well the oft told story of the night he was born, for it was one of his favorites.

Elladan laughed at the ploy and sat the boy back down on his Ada’s lap. “You know it did, rascal,” he teased, ruffling the dark curls affectionately.

“I am not rascal,” the child replied with a laugh because he loved this game.” I am Estel!”

“So you are,” chuckled Elladan, joining Ro on the side of the bed beside the chair. “Tomorrow I shall take you outside to play in the snow...”

“We,” interrupted Elrohir. “We shall take you outside to play in the snow.”

“... but first you must go to sleep,” finished Elladan.

A small frown creased the boy’s forehead. “I cannot sleep; I am too ‘cited.” His eyes danced in the flickering lamp light.

“You are ex-cited because tomorrow is your birth-day, and you know that I am baking you a special cake,” said Restor, looking smugly at the others.

“...and because you know that I have a special present for you,” added Glorfindel, walking through the door to join the group. Oh how he loved to bait Erestor!

“Glorfy!” Estel cried in delight now that his whole family was gathered together. Finished with his milk, he handed Restor the empty mug, thanked him, and snuggled back against his Ada, secure in the love of his family. Was there ever a night more wonderful than this one?

The next day Glorfindel had presented him the carved Asfaloth that Estel treasured. His Ada’s gift was a special book that contained the most exciting stories ever and that Estel loved to hear over and over. From his gwedeir he had been given a set of carved Elven warriors, painted in magnificent golden colors. Erestor’s cake was flavored with Estel’s favorite fruit; blueberries that cook preserved for the occasion, and was the best one Estel could ever remember eating. The lonely little boy sighed wistfully as the memory of that wonderful night faded and he was once again left bereft in the darkness.

“Im Aníron Ada,” he cried softly, no longer able to feel the warmth of his Ada’s embrace. “I want to go home.”

O-o-O-o-O

Many miles away Elrond of Imladris, assisted by Sariboril, worked diligently on Elladan. The pair had reopened the shoulder wound to search for any foreign objects. Finding none, as they both feared, Elrond irrigated the shoulder with a warm solution.

“It does not look as though it has healed inside at all,” noted Sariboril as she leaned over to inspect the tender looking tissue. “I have never seen a wound so slow to even begin the healing process.”

“Look at this,” said Elrond, prodding the puffy flesh. “Each time it is touched it bleeds as though the very tissue is breaking down.”

“The muscle is degenerating as well,” observed the healer. She leaned over to examine the wound so closely that she blocked the light. “Elrond, I have never before experienced a wound reacting like this.”

“Nor I,” admitted the Elf Lord with frustration. “We must find a way to stop the deterioration taking place here.” Elrond probed the wound once more as his mind worked to solve the puzzle.

“I can think of no potion to reverse this damage,” mused Sariboril.

“At the very least we must stop it from spreading.”

“Aye,” nodded the healer as she watched the Lord of Imladris once again irrigating the angry looking wound.

Her sudden intake of breath caused Elrond to pause and look up from his work. “Have you thought of something, Sariboril?”

A slow smile warmed her face. “I may just have, my Lord.” Sariboril stepped away from the table, dipped her hands in the cleaning water and dried them on a towel. “I will just go to my apothecary for it.”

“Glorfindel,” called Elrond, “take Sariboril downstairs, please.”

Glorfindel stepped away from the wall where he had been keeping a silent vigil as he watched the healers work on the twin.

“My Lord,” began the healer, her agitation apparent.

“Sariboril, do not argue with me,” Elrond interrupted without looking up from his work, “you will not win.”

Glorfindel hid his smile as he once again picked up the healer. She dutifully kept her protests to herself, but the look she gave Glorfindel promised that he would hear her feelings on the subject at a later time. Were the situation not so grave, he would quite be enjoying it.

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir studied the ground from where he knelt. Softly he prodded the mossy area looking for any small pieces of weapon that might have been missed when the site was cleansed after the orcs attacked. The elves always took the time to burn the orc bodies and restore the lands of their sanctuary, but Elrohir’s hopes were pinned on the belief that something might have been missed.

The twin stilled his movement and waited a moment. Cocking his head to the side, he called out. “You can come out now.”

The elf dropped lithely down from the tree where he had been sitting. “I was not attempting to hide from you, Elrohir, only watch your back.”

“Beling!” exclaimed Elrohir. “You are in mourning, my friend.” He rose, dusting the dirt from his hands. “You should be with your family now.”

“Belan is in Mandos’ Halls,” he said softly. “I know I shall see my brother again, and I am here to make sure that yours is not taken from you.”

Elrohir shook his head at the elf. “Your family...”

“My family, and especially my brother, would want me to do my duty.” He put his hand on the twin’s shoulder. “Besides,” Beling added with a twinkle in his eye, “someone must make sure you stay out of trouble.”

“I should have known Glorfindel would send a guard to follow me,” Elrohir blustered; attempting to cover up how deeply moved he was by the elf’s loyalty. He knew to show such emotion would only embarrass his friend. “He is as bad as a mother hen sometimes.”

“He cares for you,” replied Beling empathetically. “As do we all,” he added as Elrohir’s eyebrow rose. “Now, shall we continue the search?”

Elrohir sighed. He might as well accept the help. Two could search more quickly than one. “Very well,” he agreed. “This is the area where we were attacked.” He raised his arms to show the approximate dimensions. “I have been over it once, but let us look again.” He sighed. “Something must be here that I missed.”

“For what exactly are we looking?” asked Beling.

“Any bit of the orc weapons – particularly arrowheads – that might still retain some of the poison afflicting El.”

“You were wounded as well,” noted Beling as the pair painstakingly searched the area. “Why has the poison not affected you?”

Elrohir, on his hands and knees, paused and sat back on his heels as he considered the question. “I have wondered about that,” he replied thoughtfully. “I was wounded by a sword whereas El was shot with an arrow.” He nodded his head slowly. “The poison must have been only on the arrow heads,” he concluded, shaking his head. “That is the only explanation I have.”

“It is a reasonable one,” agreed Beling, as he reached up to examine a tree hidden behind some thick, trailing vines. “Elrohir!”

The excitement in Beling’s voice caused the twin’s heart to beat faster. Could this be the breakthrough they sought? Elrohir rose and hastened over to where his friend worked at the tree and could see that he was attempting to pull at an object embedded in the bark. He could not contain his curiosity. “Is it an arrow?”

Beling finally worked the object free and turned to the twin with a triumphant smile. There in his hand was an iron arrowhead with part of a thick shaft still attached.

TBC

A/N: The story of the night Estel was born is told in Chapter Ten.

Translation: Im Aníron Ada: I want my daddy.