Healing Hope

Chapter Fifty One

Seek You Mandos’ Hall?

“Fear not that thy life shall come to an end, but rather fear that it shall never have a beginning.” Cardinal Newman

Estel lay in the darkness battling his inner demons.  He did not realize it, but for the first time he had kept the night terrors at bay...had stopped the terrifying loss of breath that previously always accompanied the return of the nightmare.  He slept fitfully.   Waking yet again, he listened to the hustle in the hallway.  It was comforting to know that there were others close by and calmed the child.  As he lay there thinking about the elves of Mirkwood, the story of Lariel’s brother kept resonating in his mind.  Estel was sorry that humans had been cruel to the warrior and wondered if he could make amends thinking that perhaps Lariel would like him again if he showed her he was not like those bad humans.  Estel knew that he was not mean and he did not think that he smelled too badly either.

Gathering all his courage, Estel scooted off the bed and raced over to the doorway.  His heart was pounding in his chest from the trek across the dark floor to where he could see a sliver of light under the door.  Standing on his toes, he reached up to pull on the latch, which was located much higher than those of his home. Determination filled his little heart and he was determined not to be defeated by a door latch, high or not! Stretching as far as he might, he could just reach it.  Frowning in concentration he grabbed hold of the wooden latch and was rewarded as it swung down and the door opened.

Light from the flickering torches in the hallway immediately flooded through the opening, beckoning him to its warmth.  Estel stepped out of the room in triumph, glancing left and right.  He had conquered the first big hurdle, but now what to do.  He did not know where the Healing Rooms of Mirkwood might be.  The corridor stretched out as far as he could see in each direction, and elves were busily walking past.  Thankfully, it appeared that torches were placed at intervals all along the way. 

A guard walking by stopped to inquire of the child he recognized as the one with whom his King returned from Imladris.  “How may I help you?”  He smiled at the sweet image of the tussled hair and sleep clothes.  Such innocence was a far cry from the battle taking place without and the determined siege preparations within.

Estel looked up at the guard.  With the light shining behind him causing a golden halo to seemingly envelope his head, he was not unlike Glorfindel, and Estel was comforted by his presence.  “I would like to go to the Healing Rooms, please.”

The guard frowned.  “Are you ill, young one?”

“No sir, but I need to see Pendan.”  Estel chewed nervously on his bottom lip as he added, “it is very important.”

The elf hesitated, but dared not ignore the request of the King’s guest.  “Very well, come with me.”  He held out his hand and found it immediately grasped by the smaller one.  His station was near the Healing Rooms so he could deliver the child there and not shirk his duty while doing so.

Estel was elated.  He was going to make things all better.

O-o-O-o-O

Thranduil’s golden sword was awash in black, foul blood of the orcs, Uruks, and spiders.  For so long he had fought that the battle seemed endless.  Again and again the enemy attacked as though only the death of every elf present would stop the relentless assaults. He dared not think of what could have happened had the additional guards not arrived.

Throughout the attacks, Thranduil kept a weary eye out for his son.  Legolas fought with a fearlessness that both amazed and impressed his sire.  Part of him wished he could take credit for his son’s ability, but Thranduil was realist enough to recognize that Legolas’ battle skills had long since surpassed his own, and that thought filled him with pride.  

Narrowly being missed by a sword thrust brought the King’s mind back to the battle, and for several more minutes he dueled simultaneously with two orcs and a spider.  The nearest orc slammed against the King with a power that caused Thranduil to reel.  He slammed to the ground with a force that knocked the breath from him, but even so managed to roll away from the killing blow intended. Immediately back on his feet, the King closed his thoughts to all save his instincts as he moved as one with his sword and allowed the ancient Elven techniques, honed throughout the ages, to control his movements.  He closed his thoughts, that is, until the sound of his son’s voice calling out in shock reached his ears.

Seeing his King fall nearly stopped Falathar’s heart.  The chief of Thranduil’s guard, the elf had fought while still attempting to keep watch over his monarch and Legolas.  As he struggled to reach the side of his liege, Falathar was staggered by the tremendous thud of the arrow striking him. It was one of the huge, black beamed arrows belonging to the Uruks, who had also joined in the battled for Mirkwood. The impact spun him around and knocked him to his knees.  He looked down at it as though observing someone else for a moment before a gasp of agony escaped his lips and robbed him of further breath.  From a great distance he could hear Legolas calling his name, but it was so distorted he wondered almost idly what had happened to the prince’s voice.

Leaning upon his sword, Falathar attempted to stand, only to sink back to his knees again.  Blood roared in his ears as he watched one of the massive Uruks running at him swinging a vicious looking axe, no doubt intending to take his head as a trophy, but even that thought danced around the edges of his foggy mind as his vision slowly began to close towards darkness.  His last sight was of the flash of silver hair moving between himself and the towering beast. 

O-o-O-o-O

After following what seemed to be an ever-more confusing maze of corridors, Estel was finally delivered to the door of the Healing Rooms.   “Pendan is here, child,” said the guard.  “I must leave you now to attend my duty, but if you need assistance, just ask one of the elves inside.”

The last thing Estel wanted to do was to bother anyone, especially since he did not remember which elves looked at him with mean looks, but he nodded his head and thanked the guard for showing him the way.

Busy near the front of his domain where all the triage was taking place, Thedin noticed Estel as soon as the child stepped through the opening.  The child’s eyes were wide as he took in all the activity, but he did not appear to be ill.  Nodding to his apprentice, who smoothly stepped up to assume his duties, Thedin wiped his hands on a cloth and walked over to meet the young human.

Estel was somewhat overwhelmed by the vastness of the cavern where the healing took place  Yet even in such an immense space, it seemed filled with the bustle of activity.  To one side he could see wounded elves being attended to by the healers.  Bloody cloths and swabs were scattered around on the floor underneath the tables where the warriors lay, and healers seemed to be working in a frenzied way.  There was an acrid, antiseptic smell in the air, and in a corner assistants were filling basins with water from a trench where the water was funneled through and free flowing.  Estel shuddered as he caught sight of an array of gleaming knives and metal tools being used by the healers.  How would he ever find Pendan?

“Estel,” Thedin called to get the boy’s attention.  “Are you lost, child?” he asked kindly.  “Should you not be sleeping at this time of night?”

Relieved to see a friendly face, Estel smiled when he recognized the First Healer of Mirkwood.  “I am not lost,” he shook his head.  “I am looking for Pendan,” he answered hoping to bypass for now the question of sleep.

“Pendan?” puzzled Thedin.  He had not seen the child speaking to Pendan before and had never seen him in the Healing Rooms except as a patient.  However, with the King and Legolas out of the palace and Nárë busy with the preparations for a siege, Thedin realized that Estel would be better kept here than left alone.  Nárë should really know better than to leave one of such tender years unattended, he fussed to himself.  “I will take you to Pendan, Estel, but if he is sleeping you must not awaken him.”  He waited until he had the child’s agreement before offering his hand to the boy.  “Stay with Pendan then, and do not leave the Healing Rooms without first asking my permission.”

Estel nodded soberly and took Thedin’s hand.  The room was becoming busy with more wounded and, in truth it was scary to see so many bloody elves.  The closest thing Estel had ever seen to this level of intensity was when his gwedeir would sometimes come home injured, but even that was not so scary because his Ada was always there to make them better.  Estel knew his Ada could make anything better, even if it was sometimes with his nasty tea.

Thedin led Estel through a corridor opening from the back of the room.  Estel was relieved to be away from the scarier end of the Healing Rooms.  Past the corridor a series of alcoves opened and in one laid the elf they sought.  He looked a lot like Lariel and indeed Thedin identified him as Pendan.  The elf rolled over and opened his eyes as the healer and the child approached his bed. 

“How are you feeling?” asked Thedin, ever the healer.  He felt around the knots on the elf’s head and was pleased to see some of the swelling receding.  He smiled when Pendan brushed away his hand irritably.  “Ah, I see you are feeling better,” smiled Thedin.

“When may I leave?” asked Pendan impatiently, “for I can tell from the level of activity around here that I am needed.”

“You will not leave until you have completely mended,” replied Thedin calmly.

“Master Healer,” said Pendan, trying a different tact.  “I am a warrior in my King’s service.”

“You warriors all seem to believe that you are impervious to wounds.”  He shook his head.  “Seek you Mandos’ Hall then?”  He waited until the patient shook his head, albeit reluctantly.  “No, I did not think so.”

Pendan sighed in frustration.  “Can you at least tell me how long I will be here?”

“You will be here until I tell you that you may leave,” answered Thedin in his best “no more arguments” voice.  “In the meantime I have brought you a visitor.”  He nodded at the child standing beside him.  “This is Estel, a guest of King Thranduil and Prince Legolas.”

Pendan blinked his eyes in surprise at the young one standing before him.  “You are a guest of the king?” he asked. 

Estel nodded and climbed up onto the bed as the healer withdrew, his mind already back with the many wounded.  Thedin felt sure that Estel would be watched over.  Perhaps the child would even distract the young warrior from the chaos taking place outside his room.

Estel settled down beside Pendan eying the bruises and wounds adorning the elf’s body.  “Do those hurt?”

Pendan smiled.  “You are not from Mirkwood are you?”

“No,” Estel shook his head. “I live in Imladris with my Ada and Gwedeir.”

“Imladris?” Pendan questioned, puzzled because it was obvious to him that this child was no elf.  “Who is your father?”

“Ada,” answered the boy.

“I see,” said Pendan, hiding the small smile that came to his face.  “And who are your gwedeir?”

“Dan and Ro,” rattled off Estel, relaxing slightly because Pendan was not mean to him.  “Everyone says they look just alike, but I can always tell them apart.”

Pendan’s eyebrow rose as he digested that piece of information.  So the child was claimed by Elrond and his twin sons.  “Why have you come to see me, Estel?” 

Estel watched as Pendan shifted and the movement brought a grimace of pain to the warrior’s face. Instinctively he put his hand in the warrior’s hand offering what comfort he could.  His Ada, gwedeir, Restor, or Glorfy were always there to hold his hand when he did not feel good and it always made him feel better.

“Thank you, Estel,” Pendan almost in a whisper, as though his throat was sore and speaking was painful.  “Your touch comforts me.”

Estel’s stomach knotted as dread filled him, as he gathered his courage to ask the question that had been on his mind.  He did not want to make Pendan mad at him.  Tentatively he touched one of the bumps on Pendan’s head, noticing that the elf winced slightly when he did so.  “Is this where the rocks hit you?” he asked uncertainly.

Pendan stared pensively at the child, trying not to move again.  How did he know what had happened at the village?  “It is,” he admitted tiredly. 

Estel looked at the injuries for some moments.  “I am sorry that the humans were mean to you.”

“I am sorry too,” replied Pendan. 

“Why are you sorry?” asked Estel, confused as to the elf’s meaning.

“I am sorry because I frightened the men when I appeared so suddenly.”

“How did you bright them?”

“How did I what?” asked the puzzled elf.

“Bright them,” replied Estel just a bit louder, thinking that the warrior’s hearing might have been injured as well.

Oh,” replied Pendan, realizing what the child was asking.  “Well, I arrived unexpectedly near the stream where some women were washing their children, and my bloodied appearance took them by surprise.”

Estel thought about what the warrior said.  He did not really understand, but he also did not ever remember being around human women and children either.  “Maybe they scared easy,” he reasoned.  “Did the women throw the rocks at you?”

“No,” chuckled Pendan, “but they screamed loudly enough that their men came running, and they are the ones who threw the rocks.”  He grimaced wryly.  “Rather large rocks, as  I remember.”

Estel paused as a huge yawn over took him.  His eyes batted sleepily.   “Would you like for me to tell you a story?”

“Do you know many stories?” asked Pendan, smiling at the sweet child.

“Oh yes,” confirmed Estel.  “My Ada tells me many stories.”

“Tell me about your home, Estel,” asked the warrior.  “I would like to hear more about your Ada and Gwedeir to take my mind away from the pain.”

Estel liked that idea.  A story was much better than his Ada’s tea to take away pain. He lay down beside the warrior, snuggling up to his side because it was drafty in the alcove and Estel was getting cold.  “I will tell you about Blubby and Celos and Celon.”

“Who are they?” Pendan asked dutifully.

“Blubby is my kitty, and Celos and Celon are Dan and Ro’s horses.”  He stopped to scratch his nose as another yawn overtook him.  “Ada gets mad when Celos and Celon come into the Hall of Fire because they made the server spill green soup all over the musicians when King Adar came to visit.”

Pendan found himself chuckling as he listened to tale after tale of Imladris, all told through the particularly interesting view point of a bright four-year-old who, it appeared, missed nothing that went on around him.  Before long it grew quiet and he glanced down to see that the boy had fallen asleep snuggled against him.  Pendan pulled his blanket over to cover up the child.  “Sleep with the blessings of the Valar, little one.”  That said, the warrior sighed and closed his eyes.  Before he realized it, he joined the child in slumber.

TBC