Healing Hope

Chapter Fifty-Nine

That Which is Broken

“When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something's suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.” Barbara Bloom

Falathar moaned as consciousness pulled him relentlessly towards the pain he desperately wanted to avoid. Not to be denied, his mind continued its journey while dragging his reluctant body along.

The soft moan alerted the elleth, who was immediately on her feet and leaning over the unconscious warrior. “First Healer, I believe he is awakening!”

“Thank you, Gelleth,” replied Thedin. The healer washed his hands in one of the ever-present bowls of water. There was one situated by each bed so that the healers could care for multiple patients without carrying contaminates from one to the other. After drying his hands on a cloth provided for that purpose, the First Healer joined the elleth beside Falathar’s bed.

The Chief of the King’s Guard had not awakened since the surgery to remove an orc arrow from his chest. It was considered quite remarkable that he even survived such a delicate surgery. Another low groan escaped his lips.

Thedin felt of Falathar’s forehead and was pleased to find no undue warmth. “Very good,” he sighed.

“There is no sign of fever?” questioned Gelleth, hopefully.

“No,” chuckled Thedin, “none since you checked only a brief while ago.”

Gelleth flushed. “Falathar is an important guard for the King; I would not have it said that he was neglected while in our care.”

Thedin snorted. “As though that was possible with you hovering so close to his bedside!” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at the flustered elleth and patted her arm. ‘Peace, Gelleth, your care of the young guard is irreproachable!”

“Thank you, First Healer,” stammered Gelleth.

“He will likely be thirsty when he awakens,” said the Healer. “Remember to give him only sips of water at first.” His reminder given, Thedin moved back to check on his other patients. He had many still requiring his aid this day.

“I will, First Healer,” nodded Gelleth, her eyes never leaving the beloved face of Falathar. Gelleth had loved the warrior for many years, and yet he never seemed to even notice her. She gently applied cool, wet cloths to his forehead and sighed. Glancing around to be sure no one was watching, she quickly leaned down to whisper into his ear. “I love you, Falathar.”

Much to Gelleth’s horror, Falathar’s eyes began to flutter and then open slowly. He tried to speak, but only a soft groan escaped through his dry lips.

“Falathar?” Gelleth questioned. Quickly she turned to pour some water into a horn mug. “Here Chief Guard, sip this.” She held up his head as the warrior tried to sip the water. “Just a bit now,” the elleth cautioned.

“The King?” Falathar managed to croak. “Is the King unharmed?”

O-o-O-o-O

Glorfindel had his boots off and his leggings rolled up to his knees as he waded the green waters. The golden one wore only a leather vest on his upper body so that his arms were bare as they dipped into the water upturning the submerged rocks and boulders. His muscles strained as he pulled up a particularly large boulder only to be disappointed once again. The rays of Anor shimmered on the water with a brilliance that almost hurt his eyes, and the salt air was fresh and enticing as he breathed it into his lungs, but he forced himself to block all that out as he searched for the serpent.

It seemed that he’d been at it for hours, but Glorfindel would not allow his energy to flag. Up and down the shoreline elves were repeating the same action. Círdan had called upon every available elf to aid in the search. The Shipwright himself had even sought the aid of the Vala, Ulmo, and had been guided to center the search along the shoreline where they were all now looking.

Gwaihir sat perched upon a craggy hill overlooking the bay, where he watched the goings on with his keen eyesight. Occasionally his head would turn to scan the surrounding hillside as though the great eagle could not relax his guard even here in the Elven haven. All around him small birds gathered to bask in the presence of the Wind Lord, and occasionally the eagle would swoop down to the shore to check on the progress of the search.

Glorfindel paused for a moment to straighten up and relieve the pressure on his back. He rarely found himself bending over from the waist for extended periods of time and his muscles were now reminding him of that fact. Stretching the taut muscles of his neck, he allowed his eyes to rest on one of the beautiful ships weighted at anchor nearby as she rocked in the gentle waves. Her graceful lines were pleasing to his eyes but he could not help but remember the last time he was here...

Glorfindel held Arwen’s hand as they followed Elrond, Celebrían, and the twins to the gangplank. Arwen was trying desperately not to cry, and the twins were stoic, neither one wanting to show their grief and thus make it harder for either their parents or their little sister, but Glorfindel knew the depth of their pain. He’d spent many hours with them since Elrond and Celebrían called the children together to announce her decision to sail for Valinor.

Since that day, Elladan and Elrohir had spoken very little to anyone save themselves. Elrond wanted to try to reach them, but he was spending every moment that he could with Celebrían and with Arwen, who was devastated by her mother’s decision. The elleth had taken to crying herself to sleep every night and by the dark circles under her eyes, was not sleeping much at all.

Arwen gasped slightly when she saw Celeborn and Galadriel arrive. Celebrían’s parents had journeyed from Lórien to farewell their daughter. Glorfindel released Arwen’s hand and the elleth ran to her grandparents. She flung herself into Celeborn’s arms and clung to him in tears. She returned to Lórien with them that day, unable to bear being at Imladris where so much of her mother’s presence touched everything.

Círdan was there with them too, lending his support to the family, and especially Elrond, who he had helped to rear. The Shipwright could not help but remember the overly serious youngster and his vivacious brother as they had been as elflings. Elros was fascinated by the ships from the very beginning and nearly fearless as he climbed all over them. Elrond, on the other hand, was content to sit with a book or just to watch his brother, always ready to protect Elros and come to his aid.

It was a sad day, and one that marked with grief the family for years afterwards.

Glorfindel forced his mind from that memory as he bent back to his searching. Instead he kept his mind steadfastly on happier moments...how he delighted in sneaking up the tree to surprise the twins while they chattered and fussed...how he had watched the twins and Legolas steal the bells from Asfaloth’s bridle...how he first taught the twins to wield their swords...bickering with Erestor, and how he watched the twins heal and grow to love Elladan’s “little love”...Estel.

Glorfindel chuckled softly, drawing looks from nearby elves, but the warrior did not even notice and certainly would not have cared. His mind was firmly in a better place. The night Estel first came to Imladris.

It was dark out and the lanterns had all been lit. As was his habit, Elrond was in his study. Indeed, the Elf Lord spent most of his time locked away in there writing letters to his beloved Celebrían to tell her of all the happenings in Imladris. Oh, he thought no one knew of this indulgence, but Erestor and Glorfindel had known him too long not to know and to understand what he was doing. He simply had to have this release as he watched his family fall apart around him, reinforcing the greatest fear of his life…abandonment. Elrond loved his children more than anything else in Arda, but the pain and utter helplessness of seeing his sons being slowly fractured by their grief and vengeance was becoming almost unbearable, and he retreated to his study more and more as a consequence.

Glorfindel tried his best to reach them too, and help them to see their folly, but they could not release the anger they harbored within their hearts. More than anything, he wished that he could help them to understand that their mother’s need to sail to the gray haven was not a rejection of them or their family. Of course they understood that on an intellectual level, but inside something had shattered the day that they had rescued Celebrían from the hands of the Orcs and brought her battered and broken body home to Imladris, and it appeared to the Golden Warrior that each new sunrise brought all of them closer to losing the twins as well. The bright, mischievous young elves who loved to play pranks had been replaced with two battle hardened Elven warriors who had made it their life’s mission to seek out and destroy every Orc in Middle Earth. As an elf many centuries old, Glorfindel understood that the path they had chosen would only lead the twins into more darkness, but, it would seem, he was powerless to make them see that fact.

With their usual amount of chaos and gore the twins arrived home and rushed into the house calling for Lord Elrond. Only this time rather than bearing their normal amount of injuries they bore a precious parcel wrapped in a wet and mud-spattered blanket.

Summoned by all of the noise Glorfindel and Erestor came from the kitchens where they had been sharing a cup of tea at the close of day. They watched as Elrond emerged from the study to look at the little boy trembling in his son’s arms. Large, soulful eyes looked out from the blanket in which he’d been wrapped and the Elf Lord could see that his dark hair was a mass of unruly curls. He placed his hand on the baby soft hair and smiled encouragingly at the two year old.

“Arathorn has been killed, Ada,” said Elrohir.

“This is Arathorn’s son, Aragorn,” explained Elladan. “His mother is ill and has been taken to the healing wing.”

“You are all that is left of the line of kings, little one; that is a huge mantle for one so small,” mused Elrond sadly.

Elladan continued to soothe the child in his arms. “He saw his father fall, Ada, and has not spoken a word since. Will you see what you can do with him? Elrohir and I do not know how to care for a child such as this.”

Elrond took the child from Elladan’s arms and discarded the wet blanket. “He is in shock,” noted the healer. “Let us see what we can do for you, little one.” He quickly began pulling off the child’s damp shirt. “Elrohir, will you bring me another blanket, please? Elladan, ask Erestor...”

“I am here, my Lord,” said Erestor quickly walking over to do his Lord’s bidding.

“Ah, Erestor,” said Elrond, “please prepare some warm milk with cinnamon and vanilla in it. That should help the child to relax.”

“As for you two,” Elrond said, eying the twins’ bloody appearance, “I suggest you wash and change your clothing before you frighten this child even more.”

“What have we here?” said Glorfindel, walking over to peer at the child in Elrond’s arms.

Elrond looked at him with eyes that had not lost their sadness in many years, and Glorfindel knew in that moment that Elrond had opened his fragile heart once again. “It seems we have a little lost King, Glorfindel, and he is now ours to cherish and protect.”

“Welcome to Imladris, little King,” Glorfindel said with a bow. “It will be my honor to protect you.”

Shy eyes peeked out from the safety of Elrond arms where the child had nestled, seemingly content not to move. His fingers wound themselves in the smooth fabric of Elrond’s robe as though afraid he would be snatched away, and his ear found the location of Elrond’s heart, the steady beat comforting him with the promise of unwavering commitment.

“Something about him reminds me of Elros,” said Elrond wistfully, as he brushed a kiss across the soft curls.

As though he knew he was being spoken of, Aragorn looked up at Elrond with such a look of trust that the Elf Lord’s heart melted and a tear came to his eyes.

Noting the emotions Elrond was fighting to control, Glorfindel intervened, saying the first thing that came to his mind. “The last of the line of the Sea Kings...”

Elrond nodded, while smiling down at the little boy. “No one must know that he is here, Glorfindel.”

The Balrog Slayer nodded. “We will keep him safe, my Lord.”

“We must give you a new name, tithen pen,” crooned Elrond as he snuggled the sleepy child against his chest. “You shall be named Estel, for the hope you bring all who will meet you.”

Glorfindel’s eyebrows rose. “Hope to all he meets...that is a tall order for one so small.”

“Estel nín” breathed Elrond. “Im anna Estel an edain” Elrond could not help but think of his brother. Even after all this time he missed Elros terribly.

Estel’s small hand reached out to brush against Glorfindel’s golden hair and then came back to feel Elrond’s dark braids, bringing a chuckle to the Golden Warrior. “See,” said Elrond, “he is an intelligent little thing; he shall be up to the task.”

Elrohir was the first to return after a quick bath and change of clothing. “Here Ada, I found this blanket.” The twin bore a buttery yellow blanket as soft as the down of a chick, and Estel all but sighed when Elrond wrapped it around him.

Elrohir smiled as he watched the tyke begin to stroke the soft folds of the cloth. “He likes it!”

“My Lord, Glorfindel!” called an elf from several feet away. “We have found one!” The elf proudly held up the squirming snake. From the shore, Círdan’s booming laugh could be heard.

“Thank the Valar,” breathed Glorfindel as he waded as swiftly as possible to the elf to take the serpent himself. “Hold on Elladan...”

TBC

Translations:

Tithen pen: little one

Im anna Estel an edain: I give hope to men