Healing Hope

Chapter Sixty

All Through the Night

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.” Anne Lamott

“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...”

Glorfindel hurried towards the elf with the serpent hoisted victoriously aloft. The small limbless reptile wiggled in the elf’s hand but, from Glorfindel’s point of view, the late afternoon reflection on the water made it appear to be all black. “Is the underside golden colored?” he called as he waded as quickly as he could in that direction. The tide was coming in and the waters were now almost thigh deep. “Quickly now, tell me!”

The elf examined the belly of the snake and nodded to the Balrog Slayer. “Aye, it is.”

“See there, Glorfindel!” Círdan boomed from the shore. “Told you, I did, that Ulmo would lead us to the right spot.”

Glorfindel gingerly took the scaled serpent from the other elf, careful to grasp it behind the head where he would be safe from its bite, and started towards the shore with the precious cargo, his mind already back in Imaldris.

“Come, my friend,” greeted Círdan as the golden warrior waded ashore. “Come and tell me the news of Imladris and Elrond.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “No, I cannot delay, for Elladan’s life hangs in the balance.”

“But you must, at the very least, change into dry clothing before you depart,” Círdan argued. “That will give you a moment to catch me up on my little El.”

Glorfindel paused a moment. “Why did you call him that?”

“El?” questioned the bearded one. “Why, that is how Elrond and Elros always used to address each other; I supposed I simply slipped back into that pattern without thinking.”

“El,” mused Glorfindel as he finished wading up onto the rocky shore. A wistful smile touched his face as he realized that Elladan and Elrohir had mirrored their father and the uncle they’d never met without even knowing it. Glorfindel could not help but wonder how it affected Elrond to hear his sons use that endearment. “He never said a word,” whispered Glorfindel.

“What was that?” shouted Círdan, clapping him on the shoulder. “Bring that wriggling mass of scales up to my house, and we will put it in a barrel of water while you change into dry clothes.”

Glorfindel looked leery. They had not worked so hard to find this particular snake only to let it escape while he made himself more comfortable!

Círdan laughed outright at the expression on the Balrog Slayer’s face. “Do not give me that look! The barrel has been fitted with an iron grate. Your snake will not escape while you are my guest!”

Glorfindel had to smile at the being. For an elf, Círdan spoke exceptionally loudly. The warrior supposed it was a result of the Shipwright having to shout his orders over the sea winds all these years. The golden warrior almost snorted as he thought about how that trait would irritate Erestor. “Why do you not come to Imladris to see my Lord, Elrond?”

“Leave Mithlond?” responded Círdan, with a loud chuckle. “Oh, I do not know...”

“It would only be for a visit,” reasoned Glorfindel, as he followed the Shipwright up to his house. “I am sure Elrond would be pleased to see you again.” Away from this place and its memories, he thought to himself.

“I will think on it then,” promised Círdan. “Now, come change your clothing, and tell me of my El.”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrond was dozing in the rock-ing chair beside his son’s bed. His hand rested lightly on Elladan’s chest.

“Ada?”

The Elf Lord was automatically sitting up even as his eyes focused and his mind came to alertness. It was the involuntary response every parent is imbued with at the birth of their child. A mother can be the deepest of sleepers, but once her child is born the slightest noise from his direction can bring her to instantaneous awareness.

Elrond’s hand immediately went to Elladan’s forehead. The young elf had been wracked by fevers for two days now, and the Elf Lord refused to leave his bedside. “Elladan?”

The twin blinked his eyes trying to focus on his father’s face. “What happened…why am I here?

“Take a sip,” Elrond instructed, holding a cup of cool water to his son’s parched lips. “The orc arrow that you were shot with was poisoned.” He set the cup onto the bedside table and tucked the blanket up around Elladan’s shoulders. “Are you warm enough?”

Elladan nodded and spared a weak smile at the sunshine blankey. “I…I remember El talking to me.” Elladan’s eyes were heavy and he was having trouble staying awake and keeping his thoughts centered.

“Where is El; I need him.”

“Your brother has gone after a surprise for you,” Elrond said lightly, masking the fear in his heart. “He will expect you to be feeling better by the time he returns.” He looked carefully at his son’s face and easily recognized the fatigue there. “Rest Elladan, I will be here if you need me.”

Elladan’s eyes had closed but he forced them open at his father’s words. Weakly he reached over with his good arm and placed his hand on top of his father’s. “You have ever been here for me, Ada, and I will always, always need you.” Exhausted by the effort Elladan’s eyes closed again. “Sing to me like you used to,” he asked softly.

Elrond stood staring at his son for several moments and then sat down in the rock-ing chair to resume his vigil. Soon his gentle voice floated through the air, lifting the hearts of all within hearing.

Sleep, my son, my love shall keep thee

All through the night.

Eärendil ’s light shall shine upon thee,

All through the night.

Sweet, your dreams, I wish are being,

Dry your tears and stop your weeping,

Trust, your Ada watch is keeping,

All through the night.

A while later, Sariboril slipped into the room to check on Elladan and was pleased to see that both her patients were sleeping. Nodding her head with satisfaction the healer turned quietly to go into Elrond’s apothecary when something caught her eye. Puzzled, she turned back to look and was surprised to see it was a glistening tear streak on the Elf Lord’s cheek. She frowned for a moment, wondering at the sight, and then sighed and shook her head. Her Lord had had more than his share of heartbreak, and she meant to see that he did not suffer more now.

‘Ayee,’ she groaned to herself as she entered the apothecary, ‘how can he stand to work in this…this model of order and organization?’ As quickly as she could, Sariboril put together the serum for Elladan’s next dosage. She sighed as she realized that there was only enough left for two more doses. The healer prayed that the Valar would be with Glorfindel and aid the irritating being to find the serpent he sought. Sariboril would gladly put up with his arrogance for another millennia if he was successful.

O-o-O-o-O

“Elrohir, we must rest the horses,” Erestor informed the twin in a no nonsense voice. The group had been riding hard, resting only at most need. “I am as anxious as you to get Estel home and see Elladan again, but we must allow the horses more respite.”

Elrohir sighed and signaled Celon with his knees. The tired stallion would have run until dropping if his master had asked it of him, but Elrohir would not require the ultimate sacrifice of his beloved mount. Jumping from Celon’s back, Elrohir rubbed his steed’s neck and took a good look at the sweat soaked coats of their rides. The twin felt immediate remorse. “Forgive me, my friend,” he crooned, scratching the stallion between the eyes. The twin turned back to Beling. “Let us find water and grazing for the horses.”

Erestor dismounted Fuinur. “This location is quite open…”

Elrohir looked around the area with a practiced eye. They were well out of the protected valley now and care must be taken as to the defense of the group. Even so well armed a troop could come under attack from a sizeable enough band of orcs, and one thing there always seemed to be more of these days was orcs. “Over there,” he pointed towards a small sward backed on two sides by a rock cliff where they could set up their estolad. “We shall rest only until the horses are refreshed.”

“They are not the only ones who require some rest,” pointed out Erestor. “A warrior cannot fight at his best when he is exhausted.” He remained calm when Elrohir began to pace in agitation. “You know this to be true, Elrohir.”

“Yes, I know this,” Elrohir stopped and glared at Erestor, anger making his tone shaper than he would ever consider using normally. “I also know that one brother is dying and the other might just give him the hope to live, if I can get him home in time.”

“I am not the enemy,” replied Erestor softly. The Seneschal put his hand on the twin’s shoulder. “Do not let the fear in your heart speak louder than the cautioning of your mind.” His hand slipped up to cup Elrohir’s cheek. “We will reach Mirkwood faster, and more safely, if we take the proper time to rest.”

Elrohir felt his frustration and anger drain in the face of Erestor’s obvious affection for him. “I have known you my entire life, and always you have been a voice of reason and influence on me.”

Erestor smiled at the twin. “You are your father’s son, Elrohir.”

“My father would be sorely ashamed of my lack of control and disappointed at my outburst towards you,” admitted Elrohir. “I apologize Erestor.”

Erestor wanted to pull the twin into a hug as he had done when he was an elfling and his tender feelings were bruised, but the Seneschal was cognizant of the fact that Elrohir was no longer an elfling, but a warrior and a Lord in his own right. “Your father is ever proud of you, Elrohir, as am I.” His eyes twinkled. “Now, shall we settle the troop for the night?”

Elrohir nodded. “Beling,” he called. “We will spend the night over there,” he pointed. “Set a watch.”

“Aye,” answered Beling. The elf turned to give his command but paused when he caught sight of their shadow. “Elrohir, we have company.”

Elrohir and Erestor both turned at the same time and watched in astonishment as Celos trotted up to greet his twin.

“I do not believe it,” mused Erestor. “However did he find us?’

Elrohir smiled at the stallion. “Where these two are concerned, I am never surprised.” He patted the stallion’s neck. “I believe this to be a sign of good things.”

Erestor was skeptical, but kept his thoughts to himself. If Elrohir found hope in the appearance of Celos, then he was not about to voice any misgivings.

O-o-O-o-O

“My Lord?” Helcar knelt beside Lord Elrond’s chair and touched his Lord’s shoulder.

Elrond blinked to focus his eyes, embarrassed to have been caught napping. Instinctively he looked first to Elladan to assess his condition. Assured that the twin rested peacefully, Elrond rose from the chair and motioned for the Commander of Inner Defenses to follow him into the corridor.

When they were outside the door, Helcar cleared his throat. “I am sorry to disturb you, my Lord.”

“All is well, Helcar,” replied Elrond. “Report.”

“Mithrandir approaches; he shall be here within the hour.”

Elrond found this development very interesting. Mithrandir left Imladris bound for Isengard and a meeting with Saruman. The Maia had not been easily convinced to keep the knowledge of Estel’s presence at Imladris secret from the head of his order, but Elrond had been insistent.

The four beings were seated around a small table in Elrond’s study. They had sipped miruvor and enjoyed each other’s company until the subject of Estel’s residence was broached. Elrond was adamant that Estel’s existence be kept secret and Mithrandir was just as resolute that Saruman could be trusted with the information.

“Mithrandir, I must insist…”

“Insist?” the Maia had repeated incredulously, and not a little hotly. He rose from his seat so quickly that the table in front of him was jostled, causing the dainty cups to rock precariously. “You insist?”

At Mithrandir’s raised voice, Elrond rose determinedly from his seat. His long fingers rested lightly on the table, but his face no less resolute than the Maia’s. Glancing at Glorfindel, he easily read the warrior’s thoughts.

Glorfindel might have found the dueling eyebrows of the two beings to be quite hilarious had the situation not been so serious. As it was, he kept quiet and simply offered Elrond his support by his presence. He chanced a glance at Erestor. The Seneschal was near to quivering with temper at the insult to his Lord, and the Golden Warrior knew he had better intervene before Erestor jumped to Elrond’s defense and made the tense situation even worse.

“Tea!”

Elrond, Mithrandir, and Erestor all started at the interruption. Well, interruption was a mild way of putting it. The Balrog Slayer had fairly shouted the word.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Elrond, in astonishment.

Glorfindel sighed; Erestor was so going to owe him for this humiliation! “Well, er, I thought perhaps we could all use some… tea,” the warrior finished lamely.

Mithrandir was still sputtering and Erestor was still in a strop, but Elrond realized what his Commander of Defenses was doing. “Yes, I agree,” the Elf Lord said. “Erestor, would you be so good as to bring a pot of tea?”

“A pot of tea?” repeated Mithrandir as thought he were suddenly cast into a surreal nightmare where nothing was making sense.

Erestor bristled, but capitulated at the softly spoken “please” added by Elrond. Erestor took a deep breath to calm himself lest he embarrass his Lord, and bowed to Elrond. “It would be my pleasure to bring tea for the guest of Imladris.” The emphasis he placed on the word guest was unmistakable and the Maia harrumphed at the chastisement.

“Well, that went well,” ventured Glorfindel late that night as he and Elrond sat alone in the study. “What do you think, Elrond; will he keep Estel’s presence secret?”

Elrond looked at Helcar. “Greet Mithrandir with all possible courtesy and bring him directly here.”

“I shall, my Lord,” responded the Commander.

Elrond was deep in thought as he idly watched Helcar retreat down the hallway. He walked slowly back into the room and sat down in the rock-ing chair, his thoughts in Mirkwood where his youngest had been taken for safety. ‘Soon,’ he thought, soon he would find out whether or not Mithrandir had kept his secret.

TBC

Translation

Sward: short grassy area/ lawn

Estolad: Encampment

All Through the Night is a traditional lullaby. I changed the words to fit this occasion.