Healing Hope

Chapter Seventy-Four

Homeward Bound

“Action is Eloquence”

William Shakespeare

This Chapter is dedicated, with love, to Lalo

Celeg sighed and sat down onto his bed. The Elite groaned and stifled the urge to throw something. His wife lay sleeping beside him, and he did not wish to awaken her until he was almost ready to depart. How had it come to this, that he, an Elite, the personal guard of King Thranduil – a most coveted position – should be accompanying the loud-mouthed Noldo, for yes, Celeg had been told of Elrohir’s outburst, and an adan, however innocent, on their journey?

He thought back to the scene in the holding cells when Prince Legolas had informed him that he, Celeg, would be part of the escort. His green eyes flashing, he had first been incredulous, and then furious and horrified by turns. Just days before they had barely survived the latest onslaught from Dol Guldur, and Legolas wanted to take him from the King’s side? Impossible! What if another attack should come again from the Hill of Sorcery before they were back? Yet no argument that he could make had turned his Prince’s mind from this course of action. Legolas had simply smiled that maddeningly enigmatic smile of his and told the guard he would be released in time to gather what he would need.

The warrior shook his head, sighed again, and began putting a few things into his a small pouch that would be secured to his saddle. His saddle...that was another thing that rankled the elf. Celeg, like most elves, preferred to ride without the additional accoutrement, but accepted that it was more practical for prolonged trips. The ornate Elven travel saddles provided a secure attachment for their sheathed swords, extra water skins, and other necessities of a traveling troop. Yet Celeg still hated riding with one, and since he really did not want to be going in the first place, it was just another convenient reason to be miserable about the entire trip! Oh, but his prince had chosen an exquisitely evil way to punish him!

Well, the inevitable was not to be put off, so best to meet it head-on rather than lingering in dread or denial. That truth was one that every warrior of the Green Wood knew well, for no matter how hard they tried – and the Valar knew they had tried their hardest – the darkness ever encroached upon their fair land, threatening to choke the very life from it all.

Finished with his packing, Celeg glanced over at his wife and found her serene eyes on him. “Did I awaken you?”

“No, love,” she smiled, reaching out to caress his leg with long, delicate fingers, which sent a delightful tingle down his spine. “I have been awake. I thought it best to allow you time to accept your assignment.”

“Assignment?” he snorted, incredulously. The elf stood up quickly and began pacing the small chamber. “Assignment?” he repeated. He stopped and, hands on his hips, glared at his wife. “It is punishment, not to mention dangerous at a time when our home could easily fall under attack again.”

Periel smiled indulgently at her husband. “Perhaps our Prince knows that your heart is not as filled with hatred as your words implied and wishes to give you the opportunity to prove it.”

Celeg stared at the beautiful elleth who was looking at him with such wisdom in her eyes. “But the danger here is still great...”

“As is the danger that will be faced by the Noldor party and your prince,” she finished. “Accept this assignment with humility, my love, and you will have taken the first step to restoring your honor before Prince Legolas. Rein in your temper, my dearest, for that is what landed you in this position in the first place.”

Celeg sat down on the bed and cupped his wife’s face with his large hands. “I do love you, Periel.”

“As I love you, Celeg.” Her warm lips parted as she met her husband’s in a tender farewell. “Go with the grace of the Valar, my dearest, and carry my love in your heart.”

Celeg kissed his wife once more, and then forced himself to rise before the temptation to crawl into bed beside her grew too great. He gathered his belongings, and with one last glance at his room, stepped out into the hallway and headed for the cavern entrance.

O-o-O-o-O

Pulling the woolen tunic from his bag, Erestor bade Estel to join him. “Come, little one, the days grow chill and you will have need of this for warmth as we pass through the mountains.”

Estel wiggled as the Seneschal maneuvered the garment over his head and around his splinted arm. “How long will it take us to get home, Restor?”

“Are you are anxious to see your father and brother?”

Estel nodded solemnly. He did want to see his Ada and Elladan, and Glorfy, but he was also sad to be leaving all his new friends here, especially King Adar and Nárë. Legolas had already told him that he, Legolas, would be accompanying Estel at least part way home. Estel bit his lip nervously. He was apprehensive about how he would keep his humanity from his family.

Aware of the child’s nervousness, but misunderstanding its source, Erestor kept up small talk as he secured the sleeves around the child’s wrists with ties he had fashioned after his discussion with Thedin about the bore mites. He was glad that he had thought to bring warmer clothes for Estel, for the thicker material would protect the child’s tender skin from the parasites.

Erestor had already decided not to mention the bore mites to Beling, else the elf would, no doubt, itch all the way to Imladris. It would not matter that the mites disliked the skin of the First Born, Beling would imagine them raining down upon him from above, for such was his revulsion of the spiders and anything associated with them.

The Seneschal sat down and pulled the child onto his lap. “I know that it must be a bit unsettling for you to leave the security you have found here, Estel, but I promise we will keep you safe and get you home as quickly as possible.” Erestor hugged the boy to him. “I am sorry that I was unable to come with you as we planned.” Actually Erestor was sorrier than anyone knew, for he still blamed himself for not being on the trip and thus able to protect Estel from whomever had harmed him.

The elf’s sadness must have translated itself to the child, for Estel reached up to put his little hand on the seneschal’s cheek. “It is all right Restor.” He smiled up at the elf with all the innocent love in his heart.

Erestor felt hot tears suddenly burn his eyes and he blinked them back. “Ah Estel, Imladris was so empty without you.”

“It was?” The child’s eyes grew large. “Where did everyone go?”

The seneschal chuckled. It was so good to have his little one back with him. “It is just a saying, Estel nín, meaning that Imladris only seemed emptier without you.”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir paused before he rounded the last corner to approach the Throne Room. The elf had been given quite a cold shoulder as he made his way through the darkened halls of Mirkwood, but he did not begrudge those who turned their backs on him. His heated words had been spoken to Thranduil, but it was inevitable that news of that nature would spread. There had been others present, after all.

The twin regretted his rashness now, though he was still furious that Estel had been allowed to be harmed. The whole point of sending him here had been his protection, Elrohir reasoned. How hard was it to protect one little boy?

Much of what he actually said to Thranduil had been lost to him in the haze of fiery pain and debilitating grief, but what he could remember was bad enough. He shuddered at the thought of what his father would say when he heard. The twin just hoped to make things better, enough so that there would not be open war between Imladris and Mirkwood.

“Bugger,” groaned Elrohir, employing one of the phrases that had been a particular favorite of Arathorn’s. How likely would it be that Elrohir Elrondion would go down in history as the one who caused all ties between their homes to be severed? Elrohir took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and continued towards the Throne Room and his hoped-for meeting with Thranduil.

Standing at their posts before the great carved doors of the Throne Room of Mirkwood, the two Silvan guards spotted Elrohir as soon as he walked into sight. The pair shared a meaningful glance and lowered their swords so that they blocked any entry to the room.

Elrohir stopped before the crossed blades. He met the eyes of each guard. “I request permission to see the King.”

“Be gone ere the sun rises,” barked the larger of the two. “Thus our King has spoken,” added the other. “Thus it shall be done.”

Elrohir sighed. This was not going well. “If I can just speak with the King, I know we can come to ...”

“Be gone,” repeated the first guard, shifting his weapon to where it rested against Elrohir’s chest for emphasis. These two guards had been on duty inside Thranduil’s ante room and heard for themselves the insults that had been flung at their King. They had also heard the King’s pronouncement.

The twin’s eyebrow crept up his forehead. These two looked like they meant business, and he was not inclined to push his luck, possibly ending up skewered for his trouble. However, he would not so easily give up on his attempt to mend the damage he had caused with his inappropriate words. He took a deep, calming breath.

“I am aware of the King’s decree,” he spoke softly, unconsciously adopting his father’s most reasoning tone. “I have come to humble myself and make amends. So again, I ask permission to speak with your Sovereign.”

“King Thranduil has spoken. You will not be given the chance to further insult our King or our people.”

Elrohir briefly closed his eyes. ‘Stay calm,’ he told himself inwardly. He pretended not to feel the sword tip pricking the skin of his chest and held out his hands in an offering of peace. “Will you not grant me the chance to pronounce my regret to the King?”

“We have already witnessed your lack of honor, son of Elrond,” growled the guard. “Be gone, before I have you dragged out of Mirkwood tied behind your horse!”

Elrohir’s eyes narrowed. ‘You and what army?’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit back the words, intent upon keeping his temper in check. The guard’s weapon jabbed once again into his chest, and it took all of the twin’s restraint not to grab it and…Elrohir stopped his thoughts. It was best not to even start down that path. With as much of his wounded dignity as he could muster, he turned around to depart. “Well, one cannot say I did not try.”

From where he had been watching, just out of sight, Nárë chuckled.

O-o-O-o-O

“Come on, you,” growled Beling, dragging on Celos and Celon’s reins. The recalcitrant stallions were not in the mood to follow the elf in the pre-dawn gloom of this morning. Crisp, dead leaves crunched under their hooves as they followed the trail. The horses missed their own stable, and they missed their masters. In short, they were ready to go home, too, but first they would make it hard on Beling, just for good measure. Celos gave a shake of his great head, very nearly jerking the elf off of his feet.

“Here, let me help,” offered Alma, the same guard who had accompanied Beling to stable the pair, along with all the other horses, on the day of their arrival in Mirkwood. “What was it you called him?” he chuckled, taking the reins of the now docile Celos. “I cannot remember.”

“Oh, I remember very well,” said Beling, “for this great walking mount of misery loves to exasperate me!”

Alma could not stop his laugh, which bubbled up into such a delightful sound that it Beling joined in. “I wish I had had more time to spend here getting to know you, Alma.”

“Well cheer up, for you will get the chance,” replied Alma, much to Beling’s surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“My Prince is leading a cohort of our warriors to escort your party at least as far as the mountains,” smiled Alma. “You will have many hours to tell me more delightful stories of this pair,” he said, inclining his head towards the stallions.

Beling was confused and slightly affronted. “I assure you our warriors are capable of protecting our Lord’s sons.” He frowned as Alma laughed.

“Peace, friend,” said Alma, clapping the offended elf on the shoulder. “The evil one of Dol Guldur can spew forth his legions at any given time. Only recently we were almost overrun by massed attacks of a ferocity that I have never witnessed.” He shuddered as he remembered the pitched battles. “If our King had not led his own bodyguard to the battle, there might have been no Silvans left in Mirkwood when you reached here.”

Beling was shocked. He had never realized the fragile hold with which the Wood Elves maintained their homeland. “You were truly that close to defeat?”

Alma nodded grimly. “We lost many warriors. My own family was sealed inside the caverns, hoping that we would turn back the black tide, or that help would arrive from Lórien before the food stuffs gave out.”

Beling paled at the thought of the families locked inside the darkened halls as they waited for help that might not come. He thought of Estel inside with them and wondered what they would have found had they arrived too late.

“Believe me, it is no insult to your warriors that we are riding escort, but only an added security for Estel,” Alma continued. “Our King has grown quite fond of the child.”

“How can you tell?” coughed Beling. “Forgive me, but your King is quite intimidating!”

Far from insulted, Alma was pleased by Beling’s observation. “We have not the luxury of finery and scholarly pursuits here, my friend. Our King is fierce because he must be. But believe me, his face lights up when his little shadow is near.”

“Little shadow?” questioned the Noldo.

“That is what many of us call Estel,” explained the warrior. “The child has taken to even standing like the King when he is around him.”

Beling fleetingly wondered what Lord Elrond would think about that. He himself was not sure how to feel.

O-o-O-o-O

The object of the two warrior’s conversation, King Thranduil Oropherion, was sitting in his chamber. He had not slept during the long night, but instead remained in his chambers, first meeting with Thedin, and then simply pondering what the best course of action for all would be. A soft knock interrupted his musings. “Enter,” he called.

The door opened to admit his best friend, Nárë, and the little boy who had won his affections.

Thranduil’s heart softened, and a smile lit his beautiful face. “Estel!”

Estel released his hold on Nárë’s hand and ran to Thranduil. Without even thinking about it, he launched himself into Thranduil’s open arms. “Why am I so sad, King Adar?” he sobbed. “I want to go home to see Ada, but I also want to stay here.”

Thranduil hugged the child, soothing him as best he could as Nárë watched. Having Estel here had brought back many good memories, for both of them, of when Legolas was an elfling, but neither of them saw Estel as only a replacement for Legolas. No, the child had won their love with his own tender heart and gentle, loving nature.

“Estel nín,” crooned the King, as the child cried against his neck, “this is not goodbye, but only a parting. We will see each other again. This I promise you.” Thranduil smiled over the child’s shoulder to Nárë, who watched the pair with a benevolent smile of his own. “Think how happy your father shall be to see you!” Thranduil continued.

Estel sniffed, wiping his eyes on Thranduil’s shoulder, much to the King’s amusement. “I will be happy to see Ada too…and Fu-luh-fee.”

“Yes!” cried the king, picking right up on the opening the child had just provided. “Your kitten shall be a cat by now and most happy to see you again.”

Estel giggled at the idea of Fluffy being a cat. “Will he really be all growed?”

“He will be grown,” corrected the King, settling the child comfortably on his lap. “And do you know who else will be excited to see you?” he coaxed, turning the child’s mind from the sadness of parting to the happiness of his anticipated homecoming.

“Dan and Glorfy!” smiled Estel, content once again at the thought of seeing his family. “But you will come to see me?”

“I will,” assured Thranduil, playfully ruffling the boy’s dark curls. “And for now, Legolas will be coming with you. You will like that, I assume?”

Estel nodded thoughtfully, and then smiled confidently at Thranduil. “And Ro is better too, just like you said he would be.”

“Sometimes we are able to command such things,” lied Thranduil, as Nárë rolled his eyes. “Now, little one, it is time for you to join your brother. I will come to see off, but first I have a gift for you.” Thranduil hated to rush the moment of parting, but he dared not prolong it either, for his own emotional control was becoming tenuous. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. He quickly pulled out the silky ceremonial robe that Estel had enjoyed in place of his sunshine blankey. “This will remind you of my affections while on your journey.”

Estel took the robe, rubbing the soft material against his cheek. “Thank you, King Adar. I will sleep with it every night!” Tears threatened to once again spill from the boy’s eyes.

Nárë sensed Thranduil’s feelings as well and moved to take Estel’s hand. “Come Estel, Elrohir will be anxious to begin your journey home.”

O-o-O-o-O

The party of warriors, with one small child perched before his brother, was mounted and ready to depart when the great doors to the palace began to swing open. As the rays of the sun began to filter thought the autumn leaves, Thranduil himself stepped through into the light, bringing a warm smile to his son’s face.

Tall and proud, the King, with Nárë at his side, stopped on the top step.

Estel saw his friends and called his farewell. “Goodbye, King Adar! Goodbye, Nárë! Remember, you said you would come to see me!”

Elrohir put his hand comfortingly around Estel, for he sensed his brother’s sadness. “All will be well, Estel,” he said softly. Then he raised is eyes to the King of Mirkwood. Before all present, Elrohir brought his right hand to his forehead, mouth, and heart in the recognition of the debt Imladris owed to him.

Thranduil’s eyes twinkled, but he kept his countenance serious. Ever so slightly, he inclined his head to Elrohir, before seeking the eyes of his Lasgalen.

Legolas repeated the blessing Elrohir had offered, and then smiled again at his father.

“Go with my blessing,” Thranduil said, for all to hear.

As the warriors turned their horses to go, Estel was tempted to look back, but Glorfindel’s words as they left Imladris came back to him. “Do not look back, Estel. Warriors never look back.”

He was going home.

TBC