Healing Hope

Chapter Sixty-Six

The Deep Breath before the Plunge

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.

Shakespeare, Measure for Measure

For Evendim – May your path be straight and free from pebbles.

For Jasta Elf – May you continue to heal and recover.

As they rode through the gloom of the Mirkwood forest, Beling kept a wary look out above. He could not help but shudder at the abominable spiders tracking them and kept his hand reassuringly on the hilt of his sword. “This place makes my skin crawl,” he growled. “How long has it been since we have seen clear sky?”

“Too long,” agreed Erestor, with a sigh. The seneschal had not been to the Green wood for many centuries, and he was astonished at the darkness which had encroached upon the once beautiful forest. “What anguish it must cause the Wood-elves to see their home so blighted.” Erestor felt his own heart ache for the proud Silvans and their King, for he had seen the mighty kingdom of Greenwood the Great during the time of Oropher.

Beside them, Elrohir rode silently, almost sullenly. The twin wore a brooding look, for his heart was heavy with worry for Elladan. Doubts assailed him as he wondered whether or not they were doing the right thing by bringing Estel home now, and whether they would reach Elladan in time or not. His heart felt a measure of cheer at the prospect of seeing his baby brother again. It seemed as though ages had passed since he had seen Estel, even as time is measured by the Elves, for Elrohir knew well the short time that they would have Estel in their lives. He was totally oblivious to the menace crawling along over their heads patiently pacing them as though hoping for a lone straggler.

“If one of those...things...drops any where near me, my heart may just stop.” Beling shuddered again. “How do the warriors of Mirkwood abide them?” His admiration for Legolas and Falathar was rising by the moment.

“The warriors of Mirkwood, unfortunately, have been forced to tolerate and fight a good many unpleasant things in the past few centuries,” said Erestor.

“Unpleasant!” exclaimed Beling. “I would say those, those, spiders qualify as a lot more than just unpleasant.” He shook his head. “Now more than ever I appreciate the life we have in Imladris.”

Erestor glanced over at Beling and smiled to himself. The young elf had never known the “sanctuary” in the dark days when they were fighting for their lives, and he was glad for that fact. Looking back, he was amused to see that the entire troop was pulled in tight, riding as closely together as possible while they eyed the spiders with trepidation. For some reason, he had the wildest desire to burst into laughter.

O-o-O-o-O

Estel leaned over to put his ear against the kitten’s side, listening to the rumble within. He smiled at the comforting sound. The kitten rolled out of Estel’s lap and ran into the bushes. Estel sighed contentedly and turned trusting eyes towards Legolas.

As Estel looked up at him with those expressive silver-blue eyes, Legolas felt a thrill of recognition go down his spine as all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Of course, Estel was of the line of kings.

“My Prince,” called the sentry. “A party approaches; it bears the banner of Imladris.”

Legolas looked quickly back to Estel, still in awe of his new found knowledge. His little Estel would one day be a great King of men. The child was still looking solemnly at him, but apparently had not heard the sentry’s softly called alert. Legolas frowned at the bruises still painfully evident on Estel’s face and the obviously changed splint on his arm. The wound from the surgical removal of the bore mite and the resulting infection stood out starkly against the pale skin of the child’s arm. Even to Legolas, who had seen it daily, it still looked ghastly. Knowing the twins as he did, Legolas did the most prudent thing.

“Let us go back inside, Estel,”

Estel looked up longingly towards the sky. He so wanted to stay outside to see the real stars again, but he was never allowed outside during the darkness. Giving a soft sigh, he nodded. He did not want to be like a bad human and make a fuss. Estel was still afraid that he would be cast out as soon as his friends learned the truth. He got awkwardly to his feet and held out his hand for the Prince to take.

“I bet you are hungry,” said Legolas, taking the child’s offered hand. “Let us go prepare for our evening meal.” He led the boy inside, wondering how to avoid the coming explosion. Perhaps he should just take Estel inside and then go back and attempt to explain things before the twins saw the boy. No, he decided that he had best alert his Adar to the arrival of the Imladris party first. Perhaps the twins had not come. ‘Who am I kidding,” he snorted to himself, drawing a glance from Estel.

“Did a bug fly up your nose?” asked Estel, hearing the soft sound. “A bug flew up Glorfy’s nose once, and he carried on something fierce.” The little boy continued his tale seriously while walking beside the Prince. “Restor laughed, and Glorfy chased him till Ada told them to stop acting like the twins.”

Legolas could not help but chuckle at the image Estel described of the Balrog Slayer and the esteemed Seneschal. As they entered the fortress, the Prince spotted Túrelio walking down the corridor towards them. Knowing that Estel was familiar with Túrelio from the journey to Mirkwood, he asked the warrior to escort Estel to his room and stay with him there until Legolas arrived. Túrelio and his brother, Tauron, had taken to the boy right away and Estel seemed to enjoy the company of the easy going brothers.

“I should be pleased to accompany young Estel to your room, my Lord,” responded Túrelio, holding out his hand to Estel. “Come Estel, for I should like to hear some more of stories about Elladan and Elrohir. The “Duo of Death,” as they had come to be known by the warriors of Mirkwood, fascinated Túrelio, and since Estel loved telling stories about his brothers, for it made him feel closer to them, it was a winning situation for both.

Estel gladly took the hand of the warrior and smiled “good-bye” to Legolas. For his part, the Prince barely noticed, so intent was he on his mission to notify his father that the party from Imladris would arrive shortly.

O-o-O-o-O

Elladan, having been bathed, body wrapped and massaged by Sariboril, now laid his head back against freshly laundered linen and sighed deeply.

Sariboril chuckled at the sound. “Was it that much of a trial for you to endure?”

The twin’s eyes clouded sleepily. “Not at all, Mistress; in fact, it was sublime, and I thank you!” Even more thankful was he for the fact that Elrohir had not entered and found him being so cosseted by the healer. Elrohir! That reminded him... “Mistress, where is Elrohir, for he has not come to see me?”

“Do you not know?” she asked innocently. “Elrohir has gone to Mirkwood to bring back Estel.” The healer continued fussing over the twin’s covers making sure that he was settled and comfortable before she left and therefore did not notice the consternation with which he received this news. “He left several days ago.”

All thoughts of sleep fled as Elladan digested this news. Elrohir had gone to Mirkwood...without him? Tears suddenly swamped his eyes and he blinked them back furiously, trying not to feel the sudden abandonment and worse, flash of jealousy, for he wanted to be there to bring Estel home. ‘I am a warrior,’ he chastised himself. ‘I do not cry because...because I miss my brothers,’ he finished forlornly. ‘What is wrong with me?’

Sariboril watched the play of emotions on Elladan’s face and realized she had unwittingly treaded onto dangerous ground. She had assumed that Elladan already knew of his twin’s departure. “I am sorry to have sprung unwelcome news in such a stark way, Elladan.”

“I would like to rest now, Mistress,” Elladan responded, turning his head away from the healer.

Sariboril watched him for a moment and then shook her head, sighing sadly. “As you wish,” she said quietly as she turned and left the room.

Elladan lay where he was for several moments, until he was sure that she was gone and he was alone. He could not seem to think clearly. His mind, and worse his emotions, seemed all a jumble. Gingerly, he pulled back the cover and slid his feet to the floor, sitting up with the same motion. The room tilted dangerously for a few moments until his equilibrium once again returned. With a supreme effort of will, the twin managed to stand up. He would have fallen had he not been able to grab hold of the back of Estel’s rock-ing chair.

Elladan could not explain it, even to himself, but he suddenly had a desperate need to see his Adar. He stood on wobbly knees for a moment until at last he began to feel the strength return to them, and then started his torturously slow journey towards the door. Something was wrong with him; he knew it, and that knowledge lent speed to his desperation. Franticly, Elladan tried to keep himself focused on the doorway, fighting off the waves of nausea and vertigo assailing him as he staggered towards his goal. At last it seemed that he had snatched his victory when he reached the entry.

The twin clung to the frame for a moment, gathering his strength for the next push. The rational part of his mind had been completely supplanted by unnamed fears that drove him past the very limits of his endurance. With sweat pouring down his face from the exertion and his heart pounding in his ears, Elladan pushed himself towards the stairs at the end of the landing.

He had taken only a few steps when the darkness once more overtook him, and he crashed to the floor, slipping into oblivion before ever his body registered the jarring impact.

O-o-O-o-O

Gelleth sat morosely in the corner of one of the cooling cubicles. The sound of the underground river running through the chamber beside her should have been soothing to the elleth, but she was barely aware of the sound. Over and over she replayed the horrific scene in her mind, each time feeling more mortified than the last. How could she have been so utterly, completely stupid as to not notice that Falathar was awake when she said she loved him? And then she compounded her stupidity by running from the room like a…a…lovesick fool! She groaned and dropped her head into her hands, wishing the floor would simply open and swallow her whole.

Thedin stood in the doorway watching his favorite, not to mention best, apprentice. She had refused to go back to Falathar’s room since yesterday. Since that time she had been moping in here, and Falathar had refused to take any nourishment.

So deep in thought was she that she started when a voice interrupted her musings, and she looked up quickly. “I…I am sorry; what did you say?”

“I asked,” repeated Thedin patiently, “whether or not you intend to hide in here indefinitely?”

Gelleth colored quickly, ducking her head when she felt the embarrassing heat in her cheeks. “I am not hiding, First Healer,” she said softly.

Thedin fought to keep his face from showing his amusement. He loved his young apprentice like a daughter and hated seeing her in distress, but the truth was, she and Falathar were meant for each other…they simply did not know it yet. Well, he was going to remedy that...now. What was the purpose of a dear friend and mentor, if not to meddle?

“Oh, you are not hiding?”

“No, First Healer,” she repeated. “I…”

“…are soaking your tired feet?” he finished. “No, that cannot be the case for I see that you still wear your feet coverings.”

Gelleth ducked her head even further while searching for a plausible reason to be sitting alone in the cooling chamber.

“I need you to take some food to Falathar,” he said finally.

Gelleth’s head jerked up, horror at the thought of seeing Falathar clearly written on her face. “Oh, no, First Healer…I cannot.”

“Gelleth, he is very…uh…weak, and he refuses to take his broth from any other apprentice.” He fixed her with his piercing blue eyes. “He said he would only take it if you are the one feeding him.”

“He is truly weak?” she gasped, horrified that her love could have suffered a set back. “Is his wound seeping?” she asked. “Perhaps the arrow was poisoned,” she continued, jumping up from where she sat. “I will go to the kitchens and prepare him some of my Naneth’s potato soup; he always used to eat that when he came over to see my brother.” The elleth walked past the First Healer while still talking to herself.

Thedin did not have to hide his smile as he watched Gelleth rushing from the room. “One down, one to go,” he chuckled.

The First Healer of Mirkwood strolled over to the room where Falathar lay staring at the ceiling, punctuating the silence now and again with heavy sighs. He watched the young warrior for a few moments from the doorway before finally clearing his throat to gain Falathar’s attention.

“Oh, hello Master Thedin,” Falathar said quickly. “I am sorry; I did not see you standing there.”

“No, I do not suppose you did,” mused Thedin. “Tell me, young one; what did you find so interesting on the ceiling?”

Falathar reddened slightly, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto his face as he looked at the elf who had been like a second father to him. “I was seeing the face of the one I love,” he admitted. Falathar laughed then, his smile quickly turning to a grimace as his painful wound stopped that motion. “Oh…” he groaned.

“Ah, your injury is still sore from your great hilarity the other day, I see.”

“Yes,” Falathar admitted ruefully, “but it was worth it.”

“I am glad that you enjoyed yourself, but I will not tolerate such behavior again,” he warned. “Gelleth should have known better if you and Prince Legolas did not.” He pretended to frown mightily. “I am most disappointed to have lost her as an apprentice.”

“Lost her?” Falathar sputtered, just as Thedin knew he would.

The First Healer almost laughed outright. Oh, this was proving too easy. He cleared his throat, continuing his charade. “Yes,” he sighed, “well, I cannot have my Apprentices dosing the Heir to the Throne with laxatives, now can I?”

“But…but….First Healer,” gasped Falathar, “surely you cannot blame Gelleth when the fault is mine!”

“Are you a healer then?” queried Thedin.

“You know I am not…” sighed Falathar, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. “You have not really dismissed Gelleth…have you?” he finished weakly. “Please, my Thadar, tell me?” Falathar used his pet name for Thedin in hopes of softening the Healer’s heart.

“My other apprentices tell me that you are refusing to take your broth,” Thedin replied, ignoring the young one’s pleading tone.

Falathar sighed. “I seem to have lost my appetite.” He met Thedin’s eyes with naked longing. “Why will she not come see me, Thadar?”

‘Like sheep to the slaughter,’ thought the wily Healer triumphantly. “Perhaps she waits for you to ask an important question.”

“You mean…” Falathar’s eyes widened. “But you know how bad the times are!”

“I know that you almost died on my table just a few short days ago,” replied Thedin. “Why deny yourself and your chosen the joy of life together?”

Falathar seemed to consider his words, biting on his lip as he mulled them over.

“I will send Gelleth to you, if you will take some nourishment from her.” Thedin pretended to consider his words carefully. “I could reinstate her if she can settle her emotions and concentrate on her work again.” He glanced over to the warrior and was pleased to see the young one watching him intently. “Say,” he paused dramatically, “if she was entering her year of betrothal …” The words trailed off enticingly.

“I would have thought that blackmail was above the First Healer of Mirkwood,” replied Falathar sternly, but his face lit in a slow smile. “Will you stand for us at the end of our betrothal?”

Victory! Thedin allowed himself to smile contentedly. “Proudly, Falathar,” he answered. “I will send Gelleth with your meal.”

“Wait!” cried the panicked warrior. “I have no rings for the betrothal ceremony!”

“Oh, did I fail to mention...” Thedin fished around in the seemingly endless pocket of his robe. “Ah, here they are!” Proudly he produced two beautifully crafted mithril rings of the slenderest, most delicate design.

Falathar took the precious rings from Thedin’s hand and looked at them wistfully. “They are beautiful,” he whispered.

Thedin felt his eyes begin to mist and blinked back the moisture. “They are my gift to my dear young ones. May you both wear them in good health and happiness. Now shall you eat?”

O-o-O-o-O

Legolas paced back and forth before the doors to Mirkwood’s magnificent Throne Room, where presently, Thranduil Oropherion was holding court. The guards had been instructed not to allow any interruption while the King listened to the last reports regarding the recent Orc uprising against the Kingdom.

Finally the doors opened, and Legolas hurried past the retreating messengers and court officials.

“Adar,” he called as he entered the room. “Adar!”

Thranduil turned from his conversation with Nárë, a wry smile lighting his face. “Our hearing is not compromised, Greenleaf.”

Legolas sank to one knee, his fist over his heart.

Thranduil frowned at the formality after the past few days spent enjoying a more casual relationship. A small frown furrowed the King’s brow. This must mean that his son bore news of an official nature. “Rise, and speak,” he said, automatically falling back into the old patterns of authority.

Legolas rose, his face serious. “A delegation from Imladris approaches.”

The hint of worry in his son’s voice carried clearly to the King, even though his Lasgalen attempted to mask it. “Let us prepare a welcome then,” said ever unflappable Thranduil. He clapped his hands twice, and an aide immediately appeared at his elbow. “Have guest rooms aired.”

“Yes Sire,” the aide bowed and began to retreat.

“We shall have a banquet this eve,” declared the King. “for the siege is officially over!”

TBC