Healing Hope
Chapter Sixty-Three
Of Elflings and Moppets
“What gift has Providence bestowed on man that is so dear to him as his children?” Cicero
“What has you smiling so?” Nárë asked Thranduil, glancing sideways at his grinning monarch. The King had been persuaded to break away for a nice, long soak in the thermal pool, and they were enjoying every moment of it. Apparently the King was particularly enjoying the chance to unwind at the end of another trying day.
Floating nearby, his hair arrayed around his head like a silken halo, Thranduil continued to daydream, unaware of his friend’s attention. The heated waters and steamy atmosphere were working together to relax muscles that had been over taut for what seemed like days and days now. With his ears underwater, Nárë’s question sounded like so much whah, whah-whah, whah. In other words, he did not understand a thing his friend said, and what’s more, he did not care! Oh, it simply felt sublime to float here in the waters away from all need to make decisions and within the comforting embrace of a cherished memory.
Noticing that his Monarch showed no inclination to answer him, Nárë was tempted to do what most best friends would do at a time like this...dunk his Sovereign, but the contented look on Thranduil’s face stayed his motion. “All right, my King, you have earned your reverie,” he said softly.
Thranduil was floating on his back with his little Greenleaf perched on his stomach. The elfling giggled as he played horsey, and urged his steed on to faster and faster speeds. The Elf King grunted as his little one bounced on his tummy while calling out, “go faster” to his Adar. This admonition only caused Thranduil to smile wryly to himself since he was currently floating at a dead stand still.
Apparently unhappy with the “speed” with which his mount was moving, Legolas jammed two little heels into the King’s sides. Thranduil’s eyes flew open and he gasped in surprise at the sudden jerk back to reality. Unfortunately his reaction to the punch to his sides caused him to sink beneath the waters carrying a certain little elfling with him.
Father and son broke the surface sputtering and coughing as a result of the sudden and unexpected dunking.
“Ada, you got me all wet!” wailed Legolas. His silky fine tresses hung in a sodden mess over his – at this moment – very unhappy face.
“Greenleaf,” sighed Thranduil with a chuckle, hugging the little mite to his shoulder and comforting him, “this is a bathing chamber.”
“Ada,” sniffed the little one, “you knows I do not likes to be under things!”
Thranduil resisted the urge to remind his son that he was living under quite a bit of solid rock. He just rocked and cuddled his young son until the fear passed. “All is well, my little one; Ada is here,” the King crooned as wet little arms snaked up around his neck and a little nose burrowed into the crook of his neck.
“Come, my Greenleaf, I think you have bathed quite enough for one evening.” Thranduil started up the steps from the water. He sat his little one down hoping that tonight would be a departure from the norm, but alas, it was not to be.
The moment the elfling’s legs hit the ground he was off and running, his fear forgotten in the excitement of the chase.
Shaking his head ruefully, Thranduil hurried to wrestle on his leggings. Unfortunately leggings forced on over a too-damp body causes them to cling in all the most uncomfortable places, which in turn caused the King to limp as he followed his son as quickly as he could.
Emerging from his doorway the King grimaced and tried to straighten his clothing. Pull as he might, the recalcitrant leggings refused to budge from certain parts of his anatomy. “Which way tonight?” he sighed, finally giving up the battle for his dignity.
The guards dared not grin, but in truth they were hard pressed not to. It was a delight for them to see their beloved monarch playfully chasing his elfling every night. “It is Nárë, this night, Sire,” reported the senior on duty. Legolas always turned either left towards Nárë’s rooms or right towards Thedin’s rooms. The routine never changed.
Thranduil chased down the corridor like a spider, hissing and pursuing the fleeing elfling. Cognizant of the nightly ritual, most of his subjects avoided this area in the evenings knowing that a wet Prince would be seeking to escape his almost equally wet King, and thoughtfully allowing the King some privacy with his son.
Naked as a jay bird, Legolas fairly flew into Nárë’s room and launched himself onto the Sword Master’s bed and into his embrace. His high pitched giggles reached a crescendo when Thranduil threw himself after his son and caught him by the heel. Legolas screamed and grabbed Nárë by the neck. “A Pider has me, Nárë!”
“Well, so he does,” laughed Nárë. “What shall we do, Legolas?”
Before Legolas could answer, his father grabbed him by his feet and hoisted him up so that he dangled upside down. Childish giggles mingled with screams of delight as Thranduil pretended to drop him two or three times before tossing him to the Sword Master. Nárë deftly caught the little one in the crook of his arm and pretended to gobble his tummy, causing another fit of giggles.
While Nárë played with Legolas, Thranduil retrieved a sleep shirt from a small stash kept here for this purpose. An equal number was stored in the First Healer’s room. “Where is my son?” boomed Thranduil.
Legolas quickly crawled behind Nárë’s back and peeked out, fairly quivering with excitement. For most children the nightly ritual of bath time was a nice, calming time that readied them for their bedtimes. Not so with the Prince of Lasgalen! Oh no, but after several more minutes of coaxing Thranduil finally persuaded his little one, now quite dry, to emerge from his hiding place behind the Sword Master. In short order the child was warmly dressed in his night shirt and ready to be cuddled to sleep.
“G’night, Nárë,” yawned Legolas, waving good bye over his Ada’s shoulder.
“Whah, whah-whah, whah, whah…”
The sound finally penetrated the King’s trance. He stood up and stretched lazily, thoroughly relaxed from his musings and the warm waters. “Did you say something?”
Nárë rolled his eyes expressively. “What would make you think that?”
The door from the sleeping room opened and in came Legolas and Estel.
“King Adar!” Estel called. “Legolas said you would tell me a story tonight.”
Thranduil grinned wickedly at his son causing Legolas to immediately laugh in protest. “Oh no, Adar, you have already told Estel quite enough stories about my bath time!”
Estel let go of Legolas’ hand and walked over to take Nárë’s hand as the elf emerged from the pool. “Will you come with us too?” he asked, looking up beseechingly at the Noldo.
“I shall be happy to, Estel,” replied the Sword Master. “We should hurry for I see that your eyes are drooping.”
Estel attempted to stifle a yawn as he shook his head back and forth. “I not sleepy, Nárë; I promise!” Estel was missing his family more and more, and being around the dark haired elf helped him to feel more at home. He loved his new friends here, but every four year old is going to miss home.
“Where shall you sleep this night, Estel?” asked the King. Since Estel’s injury the child had spent every night and virtually every moment in the company of one of these three elves. The only time he was not in the company of Thranduil, Legolas, or Nárë was when he visited Pendan in the Healing Rooms.
Estel pondered the question for a moment, frowning as he concentrated. “Nárë!” he decided. “I will sleep with Nárë tonight.”
Thranduil smiled. Estel had chosen to sleep with Nárë for the past three nights, and the King was father enough to understand why. “Very well, little one, you shall sleep with the Sword Master.”
“Then let us be off,” replied Nárë, after he had slipped on a soft robe. “Come to Nárë, little one.” The elf leaned over and held out his arm for Estel, who immediately went to be lifted up.
Estel wrapped his good arm around Nárë’s neck and gave him a squeeze. He turned back to his other friends. “Good night, Legolas; I love you.”
Legolas smiled at the child. “Good night, Estel, and I love you too.”
Estel turned to the King. “Good night, King Adar; I love you.”
Thranduil tousled the dark curls affectionately. “Good night, my little one.” He put his hand gently against the bruised side of Estel’s face. “I love you as well.”
As Nárë left the room carrying Estel, Thranduil stayed Legolas’ exit by putting his hand on his son’s arm. “Stay for a while, Legolas. We have so little time these days to just be together.”
“Why Adar,” Legolas smiled. “If I did not know better I would say you are getting sentimental.”
“I,” scoffed Thranduil, “the monster of Mirkwood?”
Legolas lovingly stroked his Adar’s cheek. “You may convince every other being in Arda of that fact, Ada, but not me...never me.”
“Greenleaf...”
“Sit,” motioned Legolas. “We can talk while I comb out your hair. You would not want it to dry as it looks now,” he teased.
O-o-O-o-O
Nárë was carrying his charge down the corridors when the moppet’s tummy growled loudly, causing the elf to hesitate. “Are you hungry, Estel?”
“Um hum,” Estel nodded.
Nárë pivoted and headed back towards the kitchens. He would fix the child a bed time snack and while he was at it, one for himself as well!
Entering the empty room where meals were prepared, Nárë started to set Estel down but the boy tensed and tightened his hold on the warrior’s neck.
“It is dark!” cried Estel, holding even tighter. “Beese do not but me down!”
Too late Nárë had realized his mistake. “Very well, Estel, though I shall have to give some thought to the problem, for I cannot hold you and also light the lantern.”
“I am not hungry any more,” offered Estel. “You do not have to beed me.”
Nárë walked back over the door and pulled it open so that light from the corridor torches spilled into the room. “I am going to set you down here in the doorway, Estel, while I light the lantern. You should be able to see me every step of the way. Is that acceptable?”
Estel smiled and nodded. “Yes, Nárë, that is accebable.”
Nárë sat the child down and quickly lit the lantern. “There now, shall you come in and join me?”
Estel ran over and crawled up on to a stool beside where the elf stood.
“What would you like to eat, Estel?”
“Blueberry mubbins,” Estel smiled.
“Blueberry...um,” considered Nárë, as he searched through a cupboard. “We do not have many blueberries left in Mirkwood, but I believe I can find us some honey and toast. Would that work?”
Estel beamed. “I like honey and toast!”
Nárë pulled up another stool and settled himself down beside the boy. Soon Elf and Human were happily munching on toast smeared with fresh creamery butter and honey while they chatted. Estel was also drinking milk while Nárë had opted for a rich, red wine.
“Ah,” sighed Estel, finishing up his drink. A milk, honey, and breadcrumb mustache adorned his face practically from ear to ear, but the boy’s hunger was satisfied. “Nárë?”
“Yes Estel,” answered the elf, as he went over to dampen a cloth from the fresh water supply.
“Has my Ada borgotted me?”
“Did your...?” Nárë was puzzled for a moment until he worked out what the child was asking. He wiped the boy’s face while he considered his answer. “No, Estel, your Ada has not forgotten you.”
“Then why did he send me away?”
Nárë sighed and tossed the cloth onto the table. “Your Adar did not send you away, Estel. He wanted you to have a great adventure with Legolas and King Adar.”
“Have my gwedeir borgotted me?”
“No,” smiled Nárë, “your brothers have not forgotten you either. Why would you think such a thing?”
“I just miss them,” he yawned.
“And I am sure that they miss you very much,” added the Elf, “but now it is time for a little boy to sleep and not think of such questions.” Nárë held out his arm. Estel crawled into his embrace and promptly laid his head down on the elf’s shoulder.
“Nárë, would you mind if I slept with King Adar?”
The Sword Master smiled. “I would not mind at all, Estel, for I can see that you are in need of a father’s touch tonight.” Nárë moved swiftly down the corridors until he reached Thranduil’s rooms. After knocking lightly on the door he entered to find the king already in bed.
Thranduil sat up on one elbow and smiled when he saw who was at the door. He immediately knew what the problem was and held out his arms.
Nárë handed off the boy to Thranduil and watched as the King leaned back against the pillows and settled the child against him. Nárë leaned over and pulled up the silky royal robe that Estel had adopted as his replacement sunshine blankey until it was tucked securely under the child’s chin. The dark eyes were already batting closed now that he felt secure and warm. “Good night, Estel,” he said softly.
“Night-night, Nárë,” came the sleepy reply.
As Nárë closed the door, he caught a last glimpse of the King of Mirkwood contentedly cuddling the little one to sleep as he had done so many times with his own elfling, Legolas.
The Sword Master found himself smiling as he walked back to his own rooms.
TBC