Healing Hope

Chapter Fifty-Eight

The Quality of Mercy

“The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”
William Shakespeare

The Merchant of Venice

Estel and Thranduil were enjoying their afternoon in the light of Anor. Estel watched cloud figures and found three different butterflies to watch, and now the boy was lying back against the King’s chest, tired from his activities. Estel turned so that his sore arm was between he and the King, and he could hug King Adar with his good arm. His head was beginning to hurt and troubled thoughts were intruding upon this wonderful afternoon.

“King Adar?”

“Yes, Estel, what is it?” Thranduil could not resist running his fingers through the soft curls of Estel’s hair. It was so different from that of his Greenleaf.

“What does mortal mean?”

“Mortal means a being that dies.” The King replied without really even thinking about it. “Why do you ask, Estel?”

Estel was very quiet. “I just did not know what that word meant,” he said softly.

“That is not something for you to think about on such a beautiful day,” assured the King, completely unaware that the child had any idea that he was mortal.

Estel knew what death was...had seen animals die at his home, but he thought only animals ceased to live. He wanted to not know that...to not die, but Lariel’s words would not flee from his mind. “Humans are mortal.”

Thranduil sighed, sensing that their reverie was coming to a close. Much as he might want to delay what must be done, he could not.

“My head hurts,” whispered Estel. “May we go back now?”

The King was struck by how sad the boy’s voice sounded and feared this adventure had been too much for him so soon after his injury. “Of course, tithen pen, let us go in.” He sat up, helping Estel to his feet. Thranduil tossed his cloak over his arm and then picked up Estel. “Would you like to speak the magic words with me to close the gates, Estel?”

Estel brightened a bit at that thought. His King Thran-due was magic! “Can your magic make a mortal not to die?” he asked, hoping very much that this magic would be just the thing. A naturally optimistic child, Estel had complete faith that the adults in his life could do just about anything they put their attention to.

Thranduil paused to look at the little boy, and the poignancy of his words touched the King’s heart. How he wished life was his to grant, particularly for this one. “No, Estel, sadly my magic does not grant me the ability to bestow life and death.” He hated to crush the hope he saw in the child’s face.

Estel bit his bottom lip to hide his disappointment. He was afraid now, but he did not want to make his King Adar feel bad. Estel decided to put those thoughts from his mind. He would ask his Ada about it when he got home, because his Ada could do anything! He put his little hand against the King’s soft cheek. “That is all right, King Adar; do not be sad.”

“Ah child,” Thranduil sighed, kissing the palm of Estel’s hand, “the memory of your butterfly kisses will forever help me not to be sad.”

O-o-O-o-O

Glorfindel’s heart lifted as they neared the Grey Havens! He could smell the salty air, hear the cry of the gulls, and see the green waters of the Gulf of Lhûn sparkling like jewels in the light of Anor. The air lifted his long locks of gold as he flew through the air on Lord Gwaihir’s back. Glorfindel watched closely as the gulls, apparently having seen Lord Gwaihir, peeled away from their search for food and flew towards the pair. Glorfindel was curious as to what might happen. Were the gulls afraid of the mighty eagle and thus attacking? To the warrior’s complete astonishment and the thrill of all who beheld their arrival, the gulls assumed a formation along each side of them as though an escort of honor.

Their arrival at Mithlond created a great stir of excitement as Gwaihir swooped in to land in front of Círdan’s house. The Shipwright came out onto his porch and his great laugh of delight boomed across the cove when his eyes fell on Glorfindel and Gwaihir.

“Well, well, well, what brings the Lord of the Wind and the great Balrog Slayer himself to my doorstep?”

Glorfindel could barely take his eyes from the beard that so fascinated all elflings, for it was rare for an elf to be bearded. His eyes sparkled with pleasure as he jumped from Lord Gwaihir’s back and bowed first in thanks to Gwaihir and then in greeting to Círdan. “It has been too long, my old friend, since we traded tales, but I come on a mission of great importance.” Glorfindel grew serious as he quickly told Círdan about his need to find the sea snake that would enable Lord Elrond to create the anti-toxin so desperately needed by Elladan.

Círdan listened to Glorfindel, nodded his understanding. “It is too long since I have seen the sons of Elrond.” The bearded elf had helped to raise Elrond and loved the Elf Lord’s family dearly. “I will seek the aid of Ulmo to find this serpent quickly.”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir hurried into the stables. He was frustrated at the delay it had taken to gather the needed supplies for the trip to Mirkwood.

Aradol greeted the twin as he entered the stable. “I have Celon and Fuinur all prepared for you, my Lord.” It had been agreed that Erestor would ride the black stallion Thranduil had gifted to Elladan since Funië, his regular steed, was nursing a bruised leg.

Elrohir walked over to the stall where Celos stood forlornly and gave the white an apple he had brought specifically for the stallion. “Here you go, Celos, for I know you do not like being left behind.” He glanced over to Aradol. “How is he taking it?”

Aradol’s eyebrow rose in amusement. “He is being extremely cooperative...for Celos that is.” The Stable Master walked over to the stall where Celos stood munching the apple. Bits of the fruit dropped down onto to the napping Fluffy and his siblings, but the felines seemed not to care. They were tangled up in a ball of fur, seemingly dead to the world. With a chuckle, Aradol patted the stallion on the rump and praised him for his good behavior. He noticed Elrohir seemed to be preoccupied as he slowly patted Celos neck. “Your Adar will keep Elladan safe until your return.”

Elrohir started, as though surprised he’d been lost in thought. “Is my countenance so easy to read, then?” he asked ruefully.

Aradol smiled. “No, my Lord, but I would have to be a fool not to see your concern.”

Elrohir nodded. With a final pat, he bade Celos goodbye and mounted Celon. Erestor, Beling and the rest of the warriors were already mounted and waiting. “Let us ride,” cried Elrohir. The twin led the way from the courtyard.

Aradol watched the party of warriors leave and then went back to his work. Lord Erestor’s mount needed more treatments on his leg. As the Stable Master walked towards the back of the stables towards where Fuinë was housed, he was already puzzling over a new salve with which to treat the stubborn bruise.

As Aradol passed his stall, Celos’ ears flicked back and the wily stallion kept an eye on the Stable Master’s progress towards Fuinë’s stall. Celos gave Aradol a few minutes to become really involved in his treatment of the stallion and then backed out as quietly as he could from the stall. With a lively flick of his tail he headed out after Celon. He would not be denied this time!

O-o-O-o-O

Thranduil changed his mind about assembling the entire court to hear the sentencing of Lariel. After all, most had no idea a crime had even been committed and there was still too much chaos from the extra elves gathered inside for the siege for there to be an orderly flow of communication. Besides, the King was broken-hearted at what must be done and wished to spare the elleth any more grief than she would already bear.

The King had only to glance at Estel’s face to feel his anger wax hot again, but he tempered his ire with images of how he had nearly abused Pendan, a warrior guilty only of pleading for mercy for his sister. Thranduil spent the entire night here alone in the throne room as he searched his heart for wisdom, and as the day watch began, for they never truly could see the rays of Anor from inside the cavern, the decision was decided upon.

Thranduil looked up from his reverie and motioned the guard that was standing just inside the great doors.

“My Lord,” inquired the warrior, with a bow.

“Have Lariel escorted here from her quarters, and then summon Prince Legolas and Estel.” Thranduil steeled himself as he waited.

From the far end of the room, Nárë slipped in the doors. He had been monitoring Thranduil during the long night, remaining available should his friend seek his companionship. “So, the decision is made?” asked the Noldo, as he neared the throne.

Thranduil arched a regal eyebrow as he contemplated Nárë’s words. “Yes, and no,” he replied thoughtfully. “It will depend upon what I see before me.”

“Your eyes are sad, my King,” observed Nárë. “I do not envy you the burden of leadership, for a burden it truly is.”

Thranduil lifted his shoulders lightly. “It is at times like this that I would gladly lay down this mantle, but I do not wish to place this yoke so soon upon my Greenleaf.”

“He will make a fine King one day,” vowed Nárë.

Thranduil nodded, “but now he still needs his freedom.”

The main doors to the Throne room opened and Thranduil watched as the guard escorted Lariel down the long, main walkway towards the throne. The King was not surprised to see Pendan walking steadfastly behind his sister. As the group drew near the throne they all stopped and dropped to their knees.

“Rise,” Thranduil commanded. He frowned as he beheld how Pendan struggled with rising. “Pendan, should you not be in the Healing Rooms?”

Pendan bowed, his hand over his heart. “Respectfully, my Lord, my place is beside my sister.”

“No burden do I lay on you for your sister’s guilt,” the King replied. He looked at Lariel and was pleased to see that the elleth remained on her knees, her head bowed in submission.

Pendan looked Thranduil in the eye and placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder in an unmistakable request to share her sentence.

Thranduil kept his face composed, allowing no hint of his feelings to show.

The door from the King’s private ante-room opened and in came Legolas leading Estel by the hand. The child’s eyes were huge as they once again beheld the grandeur of the Royal Throne Room. As they neared, Estel caught sight of Pendan, and breaking free from Legolas’ hand, ran to the warrior and hugged the warrior’s knees with his free arm.

“Bendan!” Estel exclaimed, excited to see his friend again. “It is your turn to tell me a story!” He looked unsurely at the elleth kneeling beside his friend. Her hair obscured her face.

Pendan’s face reddened at the attention, but he smiled down at the child and knelt down to speak softly to him, forcing himself not to wince at the disfigured face. “We must not speak unless the King allows us to, young one,” he instructed kindly.

“Oh,” Estel said, glancing quickly back towards Thranduil. “I borgot!” He executed a little bow to his King Adar. “I am sorry, King Adar.”

“You are excused, Estel nín,” replied Thranduil with a twinkle in his eyes. “Come and stand beside us.”

Estel proudly stepped up onto the dais to stand beside Thranduil. Only then did he realize that it was Lariel who knelt beside Pendan. He wanted to say hello, but was careful to remember his manners and not speak.

Thranduil stood and looked down at Lariel for a moment before speaking. “Lariel, you are to be sentenced for harming one under the protection of the Crown.” The King paused, contemplating his next words. “You have committed a grave offense against the Lords of Imladris and Lórien, and worse, your own King.”

Lariel swallowed nervously, more miserable and afraid than she had ever been in her life. Tears of shame and remorse flowed from her eyes as the King continued.

“Banishment from all Elven realms is a fitting punishment for your crimes...”

Lariel gasped and held her arms over her stomach as the Kings words sunk in. Nárë closed his eyes in sorrow, knowing what those words cost his friend. Legolas watched the blood drain from Pendan’s face and had to look away.

As the King spoke, Estel became concerned as he caught the serious looks on the faces of all the elves. His lower lip puckered when he saw Lariel was crying. Estel’s tender heart could not stand to see the elleth so sad. As quietly as he could, so as not to be a bother, he stepped down from the dais and went over to her.

Thranduil paused, curious as to what was about to happen.

“Do not cry, Lariel,” he said. Estel leaned over and kissed Lariel on the cheek and gave her a hug.

Lariel looked up with wonder in her eyes. “Estel, you would hug me after...after everything that has happened?”

Estel looked at her in confusion. “I am your briend, and Ada says that briends make each other beel better.”

The elleth placed her hand against the boy’s cheek, sickened by the obvious signs of her blow to his head. “Forgive me, Estel; I am brokenhearted that I harmed you.”

“I borgive you, Lariel; you did not know I was abraid of the dark.” Estel had no memory of Lariel knocking him from Pendan’s bed, but it would not have mattered. The innocence of his spirit could not conceive of withholding forgiveness once requested.

Lariel burst into tears again and hugged Estel until the little boy squirmed a bit, as all little boys being hugged by females do. “You are getting me all wet!”

Lariel released him quickly. “I am sorry, Estel; I know that big boys do not like to be cried all over.”

Estel threw out his chest, proud to be called a big boy. He marched back up to the dais and stood just like his King Adar, with his feet planted wide apart. He glanced up at the King, and when Thranduil looked down at him said, “Lariel is all right now, King Adar.”

Thranduil’s eyes twinkled again. “Have we your permission then to continue, young King?”

Estel giggled. “I am not a king; I am Estel!”

“I would beg to differ, young one, for it seems that even the mightiest king may learn from the smallest child.”

Estel was not sure what Thranduil meant, but he sensed the approval in the King’s words. He smiled shyly at the King. He nodded his head then, and in his very best King Thran-due imitation said, “You may continue.”

Legolas had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. Oh how he would have loved to do that very thing as an elfling, but did not dare! His Adar had certainly mellowed since Legolas was as small as Estel. The laughter in his heart died, however, when he looked up and saw Pendan and Lariel.

Thranduil cleared his throat. “As I was saying...” He paused to allow all present to grow serious once again. “Banishment from all Elven realms would be a fitting punishment, however...” Thranduil, ever the showman, paused for dramatic effect, well aware that practically everyone in the room was holding their breath in anticipation. “However, this young one,” he placed his hand on Estel’s shoulder, “has reminded us that mercy tempers retribution and justice is more than vengeance.” He fixed his eyes on Lariel. “Lariel, rise and face your King.”

Pendan took Lariel’s elbow and helped her to rise. The King noted with approval that he stood protectively beside her.

“Lariel, it is my judgment that you shall be escorted safely to the Havens, there to board the ships for Valinor.”

Lariel could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her eyes were wide as she looked at the King in confusion.

“For the love I bear your father, child, it is our wish that you find peace and healing for your soul in that Western Place where we shall all one day dwell.”

“My Lord,” Pendan breathed. The warrior dropped to his knee in reverence.

“Pendan,” the King continued, “I would ask you to remain here in our service, knowing that your sister is safe and happy.” He paused, allowing his words to be considered. “Your King has need of your service.”

Pendan rose and looked at Lariel. She smiled and nodded her head, and the warrior stepped forward with his right fist over his heart. “It is my honor to serve you, my King, but might I have one request?”

Thranduil’s eyebrow rose. “Speak it, and I shall consider.”

“I would ask to accompany my sister to the Havens where she will sail.”

Thranduil’s eyes clouded. “I cannot countenance that request, Pendan, for you are not yet fit for travel and it is best that Lariel leave immediately, lest one of this child’s family arrive and demand retribution for his injuries.” He looked meaningfully at Estel’s face. “It would be a request I could not deny.”

TBC