Healing Hope

Chapter Seventy-Five

In Harm’s Way

“They stand upon a wall and say, "Nothing's going to hurt you tonight, not on my watch."

A Few Good Men

Several days into the journey, Estel was becoming tired and somewhat cranky. The journey here had been marked by attacks, wargs, and the shock of leaving home for the first time in his memory. In short, he had been too traumatized to become bored. This time, however, was different. Estel felt safe; therefore often during the day, his mind wandered and the inevitable, “Are we there yet?” began to crop up.

Soon after the troop crossed the Anduin, the Great River, all Elven eyes could behold the faint misting of white upon the peaks in the distance, and new urgency was lent to their pace. The previous day, as Anor reached its zenith and its warming rays belied the evidence of the season, they left the Old Ford road and entered the foothills of the Misty Mountains. The air was growing markedly cooler as they ascended, and the path was strewn with a multitude of colored leaves in varying shades. Estel was presently napping in Erestor’s arms as the horses made their way through the ever increasingly slanted path.

From where he was riding beside Elrohir, Legolas glanced back at the company following. He and Elrohir were riding directly in front of Erestor and Estel. Before them rode Celeg leading Alma and two Mirkwood warriors. Legolas had turned back the remainder of the Silvan guards once they reached the western edge of Mirkwood, near Rhosgobel, the home of the Brown Wizard. The Prince’s own scouts had reported increased activity to the south, and Legolas feared Mirkwood might once more fall under a concerted attack. Torn, he opted to send back most of his force, but decided to travel on to Imladris with Celeg and a smaller contingent. Even though Dol Guldur now lay 100 miles to their rear, the King of Mirkwood had, after all, given command that Estel be escorted. Riding behind Erestor, Beling led the remainder of the Noldor, thus ensuring a protective cocoon of warriors around the future King of Men, though most of these Elves knew him only as the foster child of Lord Elrond and a favorite of the King of Mirkwood.

For many miles, Celos walked beside whichever rider happened to be riding with Estel. With the child sleeping and the trail narrowing, the great white had fallen behind Erestor to do his own guarding from there. With Elrohir riding Celon, the pair made a nice set of protective bookends for the child to whom they had both given their loyalty.

Erestor glanced over his shoulder and had to suppress his bark of a laugh as he caught sight of Beling. The Noldo was absentmindedly scratching his head. Ever since Estel had proudly shown the warrior his wound caused by the bore mite, the elf had been itching!

Elrohir turned as soon as he heard Erestor’s abortive attempt to completely stifle his humor. The twin spared a moment to grin at the situation and then returned his attention to the surroundings. These mountains were teeming with orcs and the situation seemed to worsen each year, no matter how diligently the elves fought to keep the passes clear. He would not rest easy until they reached the passes to the protected valley of his home.

Home...Elrohir allowed his mind to drift towards Imladris. The Riven-dell, the deeply cut valley where he had lived his entire life, was protected by his father and the warriors of Glorfindel. After the initial attacks of Sauron in the Second Age, soon after the refuge was established, the Hidden Valley had remained peaceful and all but hidden from outsiders, though a welcoming refuge to all in need. The twin’s mind sought his brother, but found that link confusingly blurred. That his brother lived was in no doubt, but further than that Elrohir could not discern. However, after the horror of having his twin link broken while in Mirkwood, the present joining, however nebulous, was as welcome and comforting as a warm blanket and a mug of hot mulled cider on a frigid night.

O-o-O-o-O

Elladan Elrondion walked gingerly alongside Sariboril. The healer had agreed with him that he needed sunlight and fresh air, but insisted upon accompanying him. Sariboril had her arm tucked companionably into the crook of his left elbow, though her real aim was to supply a steady arm for the young warrior.

“Your strength is returning more each day,” she observed casually.

Rather than smile at the praise, the twin grimaced. “I am still as weak as Estel’s kitten though.”

Sariboril all but snorted. “Have you seen the infamous Fluffy recently? That feline has managed to scratch Aradol and most of the other elves that venture anywhere near him.”

“Truly?” quizzed Elladan. “I would not want Estel harmed.” He contemplated this turn of events as Sariboril guided him towards a marble bench in the midst of his mother’s garden.

“Would you like to remain here for a while?” asked the healer.

“Yes, thank you,” smiled Elladan. “Will you stay with me, Sariboril?”

Momentarily surprised, Sariboril smiled gratefully as she graciously accepted the twin’s invitation with a dip of her head. There was a note of melancholy in the request that touched her heart. Though Elladan and Elrohir were well into their majority by the time their mother sailed, Celebrían had, nonetheless, personally asked the healer to give what comfort she could to the children of Elrond. With Arwen’s departure to Lothlórien, and the twins’ mad pursuit of the destruction of all orcs, Sariboril never felt as though she had fulfilled the request.

As Sariboril settled herself beside Elladan, a rustling caught their attention. A form emerged from the shadows of the bushes. It moved with a swagger, ears pricked and tail swinging. It required no great intellect to know where Fluffy had been and what he had been doing. He had been doing it every night for some time now. Having a vile temper, a well-muscled, well-fed body, and an ego the size of one of the lions of Harad, he had no difficulty in running off rivals for the affections of the local female felines.

Elladan laughed outright at the antics of the cat. “Well one thing is for sure, Estel is going to be quite surprised when he sees you,” the twin addressed the ginger furred carnivore.

Fluffy immediately detoured towards the pair on the bench and favored them by vigorously rubbing himself against their legs and purring loudly.

The twin reached down to scratch the feline behind the ears. “He does not seem to be vicious,” Elladan observed.

Sariboril raised an eyebrow as Fluffy regarded her with a self righteous look of victory. With a haughty flick of his tail, Fluffy continued his journey towards the stables as Elladan chuckled at his actions.

Purple, gold, yellow and white mums surrounded the pair as they settled into a comfortable silence. It would be many months before the gardenia bushes once again burst into fragrant flower, but Elladan had only to close his eyes to feel their presence, and more importantly, the presence of his mother. This place, more than any other, was what he associated with her.

The twin smiled as he reached out gingerly with his right arm towards a gardenia bush that was the closest to the bench. “I remember planting this with my mother. El and I very nearly drowned it by over watering it every day in our enthusiasm. It was the first thing I ever planted, and my mother helped me to do it.” His voice caught slightly on the last sentence. Embarrassed, he pulled his arm back over quickly and pain tore through his injured shoulder.

Sariboril felt the twin tense and had no difficulty in discerning its cause. Gracefully, she stood up and slipped behind Elladan to gently massage the twin’s aching shoulder. As her hands gently kneaded the damaged and knotted muscles, she felt the twin once more begin to relax as her fingers worked their magic. “I believe the time has come for you to begin soaking this shoulder in the thermal pools.”

“At last!” exclaimed Elladan, pleasure at the very thought of the soothing waters warmed his words.

The Healer could not help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Until the flesh of the wound healed sufficiently, I did not want you subjecting it to soaks. Now that the wound is closed and well on the way to recovering, the damaged muscles will be greatly aided by the restorative aspects of the thermals.”

Elladan unconsciously opened and closed his right hand, as though testing its strength. Though he knew his shoulder was far from well, he had been and continued to be troubled by the weakness of his arm. The twin sighed and rested his head back against Sariboril as the Healer began to massage his head, combing his hair back from his face with her fingers.

As though reading his thoughts, she cautioned him. “Time is still required, Elladan. Do not lose appreciation of the progress you have made in frustration over how far you still have to go. No journey, however far, can begin with out the first steps.”

Without opening his eyes, for the rhythmic motions of Sariboril’s hands were fairly mesmerizing, the twin smiled. “You sound like my father.”

It was Sariboril’s turn to smile as she continued her soothing motions. “I have known your father for many centuries, young one. In truth, I can think of no one I would rather sound like, for his wisdom is renowned.”

Elladan chuckled. “Shall I tell him you said that?”

“Do, and I shall deny every word,” she laughed.

O-o-O-o-O

As darkness approached, cold gusts trumpeted through the passes signaling a change in the weather. The lingering warmth of autumn was to be but a blissful memory as gentle flakes began to drift lazily down only to be scattered and rushed as the occasional gusts trapped them.

Elrohir noted the flakes appraisingly. He glanced over at Legolas, who was staring intently at the upper passes. Presently, the Prince lowered his eyes to meet those of Elrohir. “We should seek shelter, for the clouds appear laden and it will be too dark soon to continue.”

The twin raised his eyes to the heavens in his own assessment and then nodded. “I agree.”

Ahead of them, at the front of the column, Celeg turned back to look inquiringly towards Legolas.

“Scout ahead, Celeg,” called Legolas. “See what the mountain offers in the way of shelter, for Estel is worn and in need of food and rest.”

“Aye, my Prince,” nodded the warrior. He coaxed his mount to move ahead of the more plodding column and began his search.

In the meantime, Erestor had cloaked a second woolen tunic and Thranduil’s ceremonial robe around Estel in an attempt to keep him warm. The child all but resembled a swaddled babe, so wrapped was he in the soft fabric.

“Oh look, Restor!” Estel exclaimed in delight, as he caught sight of the drifting flakes. “Snow!”

After pulling off from the troop earlier in the day to hunt, Beling had returned with a small brace of conies that would make a most appetizing stew when added to the provisions the elves had brought from Mirkwood. Though Elven warriors were generally light travelers, Thranduil had seen to it that ample stores of food were brought along so that the child would be well cared for. Beling noted the quickened pace of the leaders and the reason for it. Involuntarily his eyes sought the peaks above them, and he willed them to remain open until they could get through.

Presently, Celeg approached, riding hard through the swirling mists. “There is a coomb ahead that will provide respite from the storm,” he announced. “Follow me.” The warrior led the way through the gloom.

As they entered the coomb, the warriors quickly secured their mounts. With precision honed by the routine of many days on the trail, the Mirkwood warriors took up the first watch while those from Imladris began to care for the horses. Legolas set to work making a fire, while Elrohir gathered sticks to form a shelter for Estel. They had brought thick animal hides with which to cover the child’s shelters each night so that he would feel cozy and safe as well as be kept warm. Erestor and Beling went to work preparing the conies.

If he was somewhat cranky in the daytime, nights were the complete opposite. Sitting atop a bearskin hide, Estel watched wide-eyed as the elves went about the business of setting up camp. Even after so many days on the trail, he was enthralled by the spectacle and longed for the days when he, too, would take his place amongst the warriors and “get” to go camping regularly, for surely there could be nothing better in the world than this. He was especially appreciative of the fact that there were no bathing chambers around and was, therefore, allowed to get by with the warm, wet cloths provided for the purpose of washing by either his brother or Erestor.

In truth, though he squirmed mightily, Estel enjoyed the nightly ritual of having his hands and face washed. It made him feel very loved as they gently stroked his face and sang soft songs of eventide. By this time of evening, the child was usually quite worn out by the long day on the trail and looking forward to crawling into his snug, little “cubbyhole”, as Ro called it, and drifting off to sleep as he listened to the quiet voices around the camp fire.

Before long, a fire was roaring, the horses were fed and bedded down, the stew was bubbling, his shelter was ready and waiting for him, and Estel was happily ensconced in Elrohir’s lap, listening to the stories told by the warriors. The elves of Mirkwood and Imladris enjoyed swapping tales of their exploits nightly as each group attempted to outdo the other. Of course, Erestor was sometimes required to clear his throat as a reminder that “little ears” were present when one or more of the adventures took a more gruesome turn. The offending warrior would then quickly glance at Estel, who was avidly taking in every word, and immediately amend their description.

As usual, Legolas remained quiet, content to enjoy the fire and fellowship. Often his eyes would light upon Estel and a small smile would grace his face. The child seemed to be weathering the trip well, and in fact, thriving in the company of his adored warriors. He wondered if one day they would travel the wilds together. There was so much of Arda’s beauty that he still wished to see and experience, and he would enjoy watching Estel’s eyes light up with enjoyment and appreciation as they uncovered each new wonder. Perhaps one day... The Prince’s musings were interrupted by a shrill call.

Yrch!

TBC