Healing Hope

Chapter Seventy-Seven

There’s No Place Like Home

“A place where there isn't any trouble. Do you suppose there is such a place Toto? There must be. It's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It's far, far away, behind the moon, beyond the rain.”

Dorothy, the Wizard of Oz

Glorfindel and his warriors had traveled fast and light to reach the peaks of the Misty Mountains and begin working to keep the passes opened until Elrohir’s party could return. It was difficult work made more so by the increasingly heavy snowfall, but the Golden Warrior was determined that Elrond’s sons would make it home. Ai Elbereth, fortune had favored them thus far with the lingering of autumn, and he sent a fervent prayer that the lady continue to so bless them. Fortunately, the heaviest snowfall seemed to be localized to an area on the Imladris side of the apex of the main pass Elrohir would be taking. Since late afternoon, the Golden Warrior had stationed the warriors at feasible intervals where they worked to dig at the snow and chip any ice formations.

Towards nightfall, Glorfindel decided to scout ahead to see if he could detect any sign of the homeward bound. It was becoming evident that despite their dogged efforts, they were beginning to lose the battle of the passes as, impossibly, the snowfall seemed to increase. For the first time, failure began to creep into his thoughts. As he sat atop Asfaloth gazing morosely across the mountains, the warrior thought he detected smoke, as of a campfire. The warrior judged it to be approximately two leagues away. His face brightened, for if they were truly that close, he could reach them and apprise them of the situation. By traveling throughout the night, they should be able to negotiate the worst of the passes before they were blocked.

Glorfindel summoned half his force to ride with him, for ever was he vigilant. These mountains were still teeming with orcs, and he would take no chances. As they rode towards the drifting smoke, the sounds of battle reached their Elven hearing, and for a moment, Glorfindel’s blood ran cold. Almost as quickly, the fire of battle raced through his veins, filling his heart and mind with renewed resolve.

Pulling his sword, the Balrog Slayer immediately increased the pace as much as he dared until they reached the area of lighter snow where the footing for their mounts was more secure. Here the pass was quite open and he was able to lead the warriors at a much faster speed. The closer they came, the louder and more chilling the raucous cries of the foul beings became. The Golden Warrior could hear their excitement. Like baying dogs surrounding prey, their pitch was frenzied. It made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

As he topped the last rise separating him from the beleaguered Elven party, he saw just how desperate their situation had become. ‘No! This would not happen again!’

Pointing his sword, he gave a mighty war cry designed to buoy the Elves and strike terror in the hearts of the orcs. Eyes flashing, Glorfindel urged Asfaloth on to the attack.

Elrohir grinned fiercely and raised his bloody sword in welcome as Glorfindel led his father’s warriors in pursuit of the orcs. The foul beings were scattering in every direction, disappearing as the cloak of darkness swallowed them. In their wake, the battered Elves quickly gathered, taking stock of injuries and the missing.

Catching sight of Erestor lying prone in front of Estel’s shelter, Elrohir’s heart leapt to his throat. ‘No!’ Still suffering from the affects of the orc’s blow, the twin stumbled over to the fallen Seneschal. He fell to his knees beside Erestor even as his eyes were pulled inside the shelter. Was his baby brother even still alive?

Estel was sitting perfectly still, his eyes round and unseeing. The cloak he clung to was befouled with splatters of orc blood. Elrohir’s hand quickly found the pulse at Erestor’s throat even as his eyes never left Estel. As Legolas reached his side, he motioned for the Prince to see to Erestor.

Slowly and carefully, Elrohir crawled into Estel’s little cubbyhole. It was clear to him, from the slightly unfocused eyes that the child was suffering from a type of battle distress. He had seen this before in mortals. Sometimes the horror just reached proportions that the mind seemed unable to cope and turned in upon itself. It was as though the spirit had been jarred, as if by a violent, unexpected blow.

His own head still spinning, Elrohir forced himself to focus on the child. “Estel, you are safe now, tithen pen.” Gently he reached to pull the stinking cloak away from the boy, but Estel kept a death grip on it, whimpering when Elrohir tried to remove it. “All right, little one, all right... You may keep the cloak,” he soothed. “Will you let me hold you?”

Ever so gently, Elrohir reached around the child and pulled him onto his lap. The twin allowed himself a moment to close his eyes in relief and breathe in the scent and feel of his brother. In truth, he wanted to wrap his arms around the child and never let him go. But something was wrong.

Rather than relax into his embrace as he usually did, Estel sat stiffly. To Elrohir, it felt as though he had been handed a total stranger. “I have you, Estel,” he crooned, sliding his hand up to caress the chubby cheek. Carefully and slowly, so as not to startle him, Elrohir slid his hand down Estel’s arm to feel his hand. As he suspected, the hand was cold and clammy.

The twin reached up with his free hand and pulled off his own cloak, wrapping it snuggly around Estel, but careful not to give any appearance of pulling Thranduil’s cloak from the child’s hands. After making Estel as warm as he could, Elrohir began to rock back and forth while singing one of the soft songs that Estel like to hear at bedtime.

Outside, Legolas had moved Erestor over to lie beside Alma and Beling. The Prince stanched the bleeding to the back of Erestor’s head by holding pressure on the wound. Once the bleeding had slowed to an ooze, Legolas covered the unconscious Seneschal with his cloak as Celeg aided with the other wounded.

Two of the missing guards from Imladris had been rescued by Glorfindel’s warriors. They were badly mauled, but still alive. The third, however, had simply vanished. Even though no trace could be found of him, determined warriors still carried on the search as the other two were transported back to the campsite.

Legolas put more wood on the fire to provide additional heat and light. The snow was beginning to fall harder, making visibility difficult for the searchers. He knelt down and held Erestor’s hand as the Seneschal began to regain consciousness. “Rest easy, Erestor,” he said, as the elf attempted to sit up.

“You have taken quite a blow to your head.”

“Estel...I must reach Estel,” Erestor cried, still not awake enough to realize where he was.

“Estel is safe,” Legolas assured him, as Glorfindel rode up and slid swiftly from Asfaloth’s back.

“What have you managed to do now?” teased the Balrog Slayer. His words were light, but the concern Legolas could see easily written on his face told the Prince the truth of the matter.

“It appears that one of the stallions caught him in the back of the head,” explained Legolas. “He has quite a gash and was unconscious when I got to him.”

Glorfindel’s eyes flew to the Celos and Celon, still standing defiantly over the shelter. “It was, undoubtedly, Celos. That horse has always been a wild one.”

“Do not blame Celos...or his brother,” croaked Erestor, his eyes shifting from Legolas to Glorfindel. “They were doing exactly what they were supposed to do. It was my own fault and not theirs.” He stopped to swallow and allow his head to clear a bit. “In my haste to reach Estel, I got too close to them when they were fighting off an orc.”

“Do you know no better than to get before an agitated stallion when he feels threatened?” fussed Glorfindel, pulling Legolas’ cloak up to better keep the Seneschal warm.

“Better we both go down than for the orc to get through to Estel,” replied Erestor. “And stop fussing over me,” he added, pushing the Balrog Slayer’s hand away.

Glorfindel grinned. If Erestor could complain, then he would recover. The warrior stood up and assessed the scene. “Elite,” he said, addressing Thranduil’s guard. “How soon can they be moved?”

Celeg stood up from Beling. “They can both be moved now, but will need to ride with another.”

“Good,” Glorfindel nodded. “Two other warriors will require litters. We move as soon as they are finished.”

“Tonight?” exclaimed Legolas, for the passes could be treacherous in the dark, even for Elven eyesight.

The Golden One nodded his head grimly. “Given the number of orcs I saw, they will undoubtedly regroup for attack. Our position here is tenuous.” Glorfindel looked towards the darkened line of fir and pines sprinkled amongst the boulders. “Besides,” he added, “The passes are quickly closing. Unless we plan to winter as the guests of King Thranduil, we must move quickly.”

Celeg’s eyes gleamed hopefully, for a moment. Wintering in Mirkwood was just what he would desire to do. Good wine...his wife’s embrace... Yes, he would much prefer to be home with the Silvans rather than in Imladris with the Noldor and their strange ways. He had even heard it whispered that the House of Elrond welcomed dwarves as guests! The Elite’s hopes were dashed, however, as Legolas stood up.

“We will make ready to depart,” he announced, his eyes glittering with amusement at the expression of dismay on Celeg’s face. It would be far too dangerous for two lone Elves to attempt travel with this many orcs present.

Inside the shelter, Elrohir continued to rock Estel and sing to him, secure in the knowledge that the warriors without would have the situation well in hand. He wanted to keep Estel as quiet and warm as possible. Hopefully the child would come out his stupor without further intervention being necessary. His knowledge of this condition was extremely limited.

When Glorfindel gauged the preparations nearly complete, he walked over to kneel before the shelter. His heart had longed to go there first, but the Balrog Slayer trusted Elrohir to know how best to care for the child. His duty was to prepare the troop for safe passage. The possibility of further attacks was all too real. They must be on their guard. The two Elves most injured would be transported on litters. These litters would stay surrounded by warriors. On the narrowest passes, the liters would have armed warriors in front and behind. Estel would also ride in the middle most point of the procession.

Looking into the shelter, Glorfindel was surprised by the pair’s appearance. Elrohir’s eye was black and swollen closed. The whole left side of his face looked swollen, in fact. It was Estel, however, whose appearance most shocked the warrior. The child was pale and his eyes were wide and unfocused.

At the sudden appearance of Glorfindel, Elrohir felt Estel stiffen. The child whimpered, pulled the blood splattered cloak up to his chin, and began to tremble. Elrohir instinctively patted and soothed the child until the whimpers ceased.

Glorfindel kept very still so as not to further frighten the child. He spoke to the twin in a voice that would be barely audible to Estel. “The passes close; we must depart.”

Elrohir nodded his understanding and was immediately sorry he had done so, as the shelter began to spin crazily.

Glorfindel frowned as Elrohir batted his uninjured eye. It was obvious the twin was extremely dizzy. “You cannot ride with Estel,” he said.

The Golden One almost laughed at the stubborn look that came to Elrohir’s face. He had seen that look often enough in this one’s life. He raised an eyebrow and held out his arms. “Give me Estel, Elrohir.”

With a deeper frown, Elrohir began to scoot forward so that Estel would only have a moment where he was not sheltered against a warm body. “Keep him warm,” he warned, “and do not attempt to take the bloody cloak away from him.”

Glorfindel wrinkled his nose. “It reeks!”

“I know,” replied Elrohir wryly. “I have been holding it for a while now.”

Outside, Legolas was mounted, with Celeg passing Erestor up to sit before the Prince. For his part, Erestor was protesting that he was quite capable of riding alone, but no one seemed to be paying attention. Legolas smiled as the Seneschal slightly slurred his words of protest.

Celeg was preparing to mount his horse when Glorfindel’s voice stopped him.

“Elite! The son of Elrond will ride with you.”

Celeg’s mouth nearly fell open. The one who insulted his king? Ride with him?

“Well, be quick,” snapped Glorfindel. “We have no time to lose.”

Elrohir was batting his good eye, trying to focus on where Glorfindel was speaking. Oh no, he was not going to ride with that Silvan bigot!

“Shush,” replied Glorfindel, as Elrohir turned to protest. “You will upset Estel. Whatever issues the two of you have can be dealt with later. For now, we ride!”

Glorfindel whistled softly for Asfaloth. “See, little one,” he said softly to Estel, “our pretty Asfaloth comes to take us home.” As though understanding the situation, Asfaloth followed the Golden Warrior over to the boulders, where the Elf could mount without jostling the child. Celos and Celon took up position on either side of Asfaloth, as though daring any other to get close.

Estel was still stiff, but his whimpering had ceased. He reacted badly each time Glorfindel tried to turn the child around to face him, so the Golden Warrior nestled the child’s back against his chest, careful to keep him wrapped warmly. The warrior’s large hand covered the boy’s stomach, and kept him securely held. He smiled slightly as Estel let go of the golden cloak with one hand and took hold of one of his braids, as though holding on for dear life. Glorfindel could see the telling motion was a way for his little one to reach out to safety.

Since he was carrying Estel, Glorfindel tasked Illuin with leading the troop. “We will stop only to give the horses what rest they must have.” It went without saying that they would not be stopping until they were well past the dangerous mountain passes. The further from the mountains they got, the safer they would be.

Glorfindel fell in beside Legolas and Erestor, forcing Celos and Celon to flank both horses. It warmed the heart of the warrior to see that his friend was well cared for with the Prince, and it also soothed Erestor to be able to see that his little charge was safe. Glorfindel was careful to keep Asfaloth just slightly ahead of the Prince’s mount to make sure that Erestor did not have a good view of Estel’s dazed look, else he would fret all the way home.

O-o-O-o-O

For the next day and a half the troop rode steadily, stopping, as Glorfindel had said, only to rest the horses and render what aid they could to the two badly wounded Imladris Elves. They were all saddened that no trace was ever found of the third elf. Glorfindel himself would take that word to the warrior’s family.

Since leaving the encampment, Estel had not spoken a word, nor would he eat. Glorfindel had been able to coax some sips of water past his lips, but most trickled down each side of his mouth. The child still refused to turn loose of Thranduil’s cloak and would begin to tremble at any unexpected noise. Most disturbing of all was the haunted look that remained in his eyes.

Each time they stopped, Elrohir or Legolas would try to get some response from the child, talking to him, singing to him or just rocking him back and forth. The best they had been able to achieve was for Estel to focus on their face for a moment or two, as the raven lashes batted solemnly. After a moment, then, the eyes would lose their focus, and Estel would slip back into the void. During these times, Glorfindel would prick Erestor’s temper to keep the Seneschal focused on him and not Estel. It worked like a charm, for Glorfindel knew exactly how to get Erestor riled.

For the whole first day, Elrohir had ridden almost as stiffly as Estel, refusing to lean back against Celeg. However, by the second day the dizziness, aggravated by the continued riding, had worsened and he was forced to rely on the Elite’s steady shoulder. ‘Any port in a storm,’ he reasoned that his Uncle Elros might have said.

Several times, Celeg found himself anchoring the twin to keep him from slipping off. “Are you well, son of Elrond?” he asked once, only to realize that the twin had slipped from consciousness. The Elite glanced back at Legolas, and noticed that the warrior he bore was also limp and being supported. Well, no mind, Celeg was a warrior, and warriors did what was necessary for their comrades.

When they were within an hour of the Last Homely House, Glorfindel sent one of the riders ahead to alert the Healers that they bore wounded. He specifically bade the elf to assure Lord Elrond that his sons were not among those badly injured.

O-o-O-o-O

Elrond and Elladan were in his study when Helcar appeared at the door.

“My Lord, Lord Glorfindel sends news.”

Immediately Elladan was on his feet. Elrond laid down his quill and calmly met the Commander’s eyes. “Report, Helcar.”

“They should arrive within the hour. They bear injured, My Lord, though Lord Glorfindel specifies that neither of your sons is among those badly wounded.”

Elladan frowned and Elrond’s eyebrow rose. ‘Not among those badly wounded’ left a lot room for interpretation. Well, best not to think ahead. The situation was what it was, and added worry would not change things, but only hinder his effectiveness. “Numbers?”

“Two on litters, and three riding with aid,” reported the Commander of Inner Defenses.

Elrond seemed to mull over the news for a moment. With a slight sigh, he nodded his thanks to Helcar. “Alert Mistress Sariboril to the arrival of wounded.”

Helcar bowed slightly. “Yes, my Lord. I will also alert the stable masters to prepare for the stabling and care of the horses.”

“Thank you, Helcar,” Elrond replied, his mind already on preparations they must make.

Helcar bowed again, and left to find Sariboril.

“Elladan, have the cooks prepare plenty of food to be ready once the riders arrive. They will be in need of something warm and bracing.”

Elladan nodded and started for the door, and then stopped and looked back suspiciously. “Where are you going, Adar?”

Elrond looked mildly surprised. “I am going where I always go when you or your brother have been abroad...to prepare the Healing Room.”

Elladan could not help but smile at the look on his father’s face. Even in his apprehension, he found the look funny, but he tried to appear affronted. “We do not always return wounded.”

If possible, Elrond’s eyebrow climbed a notch higher. “My son, you are...shall we say...predictable.” He smiled warmly at his eldest, and grew serious. “Would you like to assist me?”

Elladan was surprised and, the truth be known, honored. “I would be proud to assist you, Adar.”

“Good, then let us prepare. If I know your twin, he will need our care.”

Less than an hour later, the weary elves rode into the clearing before the house. Immediately apprentices appeared to bear the litters to the Healing Rooms and assist Beling and Alma.

As an apprentice reached to help Erestor dismount, the Seneschal pushed his hands away. “I am perfectly able to dismount a horse.” All this fuss was extremely embarrassing to the elf. And why would Glorfindel not let him see more of Estel?

Elrond’s eyes sought his sons. Estel was in Glorfindel’s arms, and, not surprisingly, Elrohir was one of those who needed aid to ride. He had expected it, and could see that his son did not appear to bear any sword or arrow wounds. His heart lurched, however, when he looked at Estel’s face. The boy’s eyes appeared unfocused. Automatically the healer began his assessment. “Dazed look, pale, withdrawn...” Thankfully, he could see no blood on the child, but why was he gripping that befouled cloak?

Glorfindel dismounted Asfaloth as gently as possible, so gracefully that Estel scarcely noticed. Upon seeing Estel’s eyes, Elrond began walking towards the Balrog Slayer. As he approached he slowed down, as did Glorfindel. Ignoring the hubbub of apprentices moving the wounded, Elrond began to speak softly. “Tíro nin, Estel... Lasto nin.”

The Elves who had witnessed Estel’s stupor these last two days held their breath waiting for what would happen. From where he still sat with Celeg, Elrohir watched, blinking furiously in an attempt to keep his eye clear so that he could see. Sensing the drama of what was happening, Celeg kept his mount still and made no move to dismount lest he somehow startle the child.

“Ion nín,” continued Elrond softly.

Estel’s eyes seemed to focus on Elrond. For the first time since he had gotten him, Glorfindel felt the child responding, and held his breath. Slowly, Estel let go of the cloak, allowing it to fall away. With a tiny whimper, he held both his arms out to Elrond. His voice was soft and scratchy, but all who heard it rejoiced. “Ada...”

With misty eyes, Elrond took Estel in his arms. The child wrapped his arms around Elrond’s neck and buried his face in his Ada’s hair. Elrond held him safe for a moment, and much as Elrohir had done, simply relished the feel of the child in his arms. “Oh Estel,” he breathed, “I have missed you, little one.”

“Ada rock?” inquired Estel, trying to snuggle deeper with within his father’s embrace. The boy was still struggling with the affects of shock and couldn’t enunciate more, but between father and son, words were not necessary.

Elrond smiled and hugged the boy even closer, kissing the soft hair of his head. “Yes, Estel, we will rock. Asfaloth’s bells already adorn your rock-ing chair, and your sunshine blankey is waiting to be wrapped around you.”

As he watched the pair, Glorfindel beamed. This was the reunion he had imagined when he set out to keep the passes open.

Elrond nodded his thanks to Glorfindel, his eyes telling his old friend more than words ever could. He turned to look at Elladan, who he knew would be following with Elrohir.

At the look on Elladan’s face, his breath caught in his throat, and he stopped to just behold the beauty of this moment. His eldest was staring at his twin, the love in his eyes clear for all to see. Elrond watched his sons. Indeed, he could not move while he witnessed this moment, for he knew first hand the torment the pair had suffered during this separation.

Were he not certain of the elf still sitting before him, Celeg would believe he was dreaming, for standing in front of him was one identical to Elrohir. He had never before beheld twins, and found it somewhat disconcerting. The Elite grasped Elrohir’s forearm and helped the twin to dismount.

For a moment dizziness overcame Elrohir and he was glad for the Silvan’s continued hold until his vision cleared. When it did, he could see Elladan walking towards him. Everyone else blurred as the twins walked towards each other. Silently, they walked into each other’s embrace. It was a reunion so warm and tender that all present stopped, as though caught in the glow of a fire, to simply bask in the reflected light of that love.

Elrohir felt his heart heal completely as Elladan’s feä bonded wholly with his, and he held his brother even tighter. ‘Never again do I want to feel the horrible separation I felt when our bond was severed.’

The answer from Elladan was unspoken, heard only in the fëar of the twins. ‘Never again will you.’

Legolas could hear Erestor sniff, and whispered for only his ears, “You have brought them home.” He helped Erestor to dismount, sensing that the Seneschal needed to be with his “family” and with Glorfindel.

Erestor walked over to find himself enveloped in Glorfindel’s strong embrace. “Well done, my little galadhremmen!”

The Prince’s eyes were on the brothers. He smiled as he shared the tender reunion, for he knew the burden Elrohir had carried when he felt his twin lost.

Shaking his head in amazement, Celeg walked over to stand by Legolas’ horse. “This is the Duo of Death of which I have heard so much?”

Legolas dismounted to stand beside his father’s Elite. “Aye,” he smiled. “But do not make the mistake that so many others have made and lived to rue that error.” He nodded towards the twins. “Their greatest strength is the love they bear each other...and their family.”

Celeg’s eyes found Estel, safely wrapped in Elrond’s embrace, and it was as though the scales had fallen from his eyes. “The little mortal is their family.”

Legolas’ smile broadened. “Welcome to Imladris, Celeg.”

After what seemed an age to the twins, they pulled back. Gingerly, Elladan cupped Elrohir’s battered face and smiled. “You look terrible.”

“Brother,” Elrohir said softly, and as seriously as he had ever said anything in his life, “you look wonderful...even when seen through only one eye.” The twin slid his hand down to press against the healed wound of Elladan’s shoulder. His eyes clouded ever so slightly at the hint of darkness still lingering in the wound. Elrohir quickly masked the look, but Elladan had seen it.

The twin shook his head. “No, brother...” His hand again cupped Elrohir’s face. “The shadow will return soon enough. Today is for joy.”

His eyes assessing Elrohir’s damaged face, Elrond carried Estel over to his sons. The twins each placed an arm around their father’s back so that Estel was nestled inside a circle of love. They had waited for this moment for so long that they had to enjoy it together. Elladan kissed Estel’s curls. “Welcome home, little love.”

Estel was home.

The End

For the story of how Erestor’s nickname came to be, see Evendim’s story “The Land of Holly.”

Translations:

Tithen Pen: Little One

Tiro Nin, Estel...Lasto Nin: Look at me, Estel...Listen to me

Galadhremmen – Tree Tangled

A/N: Epilogue to follow