Prologue

This tale started out as one thing and ended up being something else entirely, primarily because Estel barged in where he was least expected and sort of took over. Sigh...

Anyway, this story takes place in T.A. 2955-56. In the Tale of Years and in the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen, Tolkien tells us that in 2956, when Aragorn was twenty-five years old, he met Gandalf and the two became fast friends, but nowhere does Tolkien tell us where and under what circumstances. The following year (2957) we are told that Aragorn begins his 23-year epic journey among the peoples of Rohan, Gondor and elsewhere.

These two seemingly unrelated events — Aragorn’s meeting with Gandalf, and his decision to journey throughout Middle-earth in disguise — cannot be coincidental to my mind, and thus, this story.

A quick glance at the chapter titles should clue you in to the fact that this story is told somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but if anyone objects to my portrayal of Aragorn, please keep in mind that there is over sixty years difference between the young Dúnadan in this story and the mysterious Ranger we first meet on a September evening in Bree.

Because one of the main characters is Elrond, and fascinated as I am by "elvish medicine", I have incorporated some thoughts on herbal medicines as I imagined it was practiced among the elves at this time. I have used as my main source on herbal medicines John Lust’s The Herb Book, Bantam Books, 1976. My criteria for selecting the particular herbs and plants mentioned in the story are as follows: 1) the plant had to be native to Europe, especially northern Europe; 2) at least one of it’s names (many plants have several common names) or the literal meaning of the plant name could be rendered easily into Sindarin; and 3) the plant did what it was supposed to do medically (more or less). Those who are true herbalists might object to some of my selections, but I trust you will allow for the potency of elvish powers to bring about the most efficacious results from these herbs.

At any rate, when I mention an herb for the first time if it is being used medically, I give it the Sindarin name, but then (usually) thereafter refer to it by it’s English name for ease of writing and reading.

The story title, Tâd Edhel a Firion, means "Two Elves and a Mortal" (yes, the Middle-earth equivalent of the "road story"). Sindarin, like it’s Welsh counterpart usually does not pluralize nouns following the numbers two through ten.

A note on the use of ‘Man’: When capitalized, this means "Human, one of the Edain". When not capitalized, it refers to someone who is a male, regardless of species.

A note on the use of the calendar: I have generally used the calendar as given in Appendix D but incorporating the Imladris Calendar of six "seasons". The names of the months and days of the weeks are in Sindarin, since the Dúnedain, and presumably the elves, used the Sindarin names, rather than the Quenya names, as was the practice elsewhere in Middle-earth. I have not attempted to determine how the calendar is related to our own, taking the calendar at face value.

The PG-13 rating is due to mild language and some intense, but not graphic, battle scenes and their aftermath, as well as certain adult themes, also not graphically portrayed.

Many thanks to my beta-mom, Alassiel, for giving me a lot of encouragement and some very good advice as I was writing this story.

I: Rainy Days and Orithiliath

Third Age 2955:

Elrond was stuffing the last of the books he wished to take with him into the carrysack when Glorfindel entered the library. The golden-haired elf gave no greeting but went to stand on the balcony glaring at the rain falling in sheets. The only thing to show that it was morning and not still night was that the sky was becoming a brighter shade of blue-grey as the sun rose somewhere above the Misty Mountains, their peaks lost in the rain and fog.

"You know," Glorfindel finally said in a disgusted tone, "we never had weather like this in Valinor."

Elrond merely smiled as he tightened the straps on the carrysack, refusing to be baited. "Then, are you not glad you left, mellon nîn?" he asked in a mild tone.

Glorfindel turned around to face the Lord of Imladris, the braids of his hair swinging, his eyes widening at the gentle rebuke, and then started laughing. "Indeed, yes," he said, "very glad," and rolled his eyes to give the lie to that statement.

Elrond chuckled. "Honestly, Glorfindel, one would think you’ve never been wet before."

Moving back into the library, Glorfindel grimaced. "Of course I’ve been wet before, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy the prospect." Then, putting on a virtuous air, he continued, "I’ve had my morning bath already, thank you very much, and I don’t need another. My body prefers being warm and dry."

At this Elrond laughed out loud, handing the carrysack to Glorfindel. "I am told that that is a common complaint among the old and infirm."

"What! Old? I’m not old!" Glorfindel protested in shocked indignation.

"Well, you are much older than I am, and you don’t hear me complaining," Elrond retorted.

"Hmph. Remind me again why I agreed to this orc-brained scheme of yours?"

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "‘Orc-brained scheme of mine?’ You’re the one who said we should wait until the autumn to travel with Estel to the Woodland Realm. As I recall you said, and I quote, ‘Autumn is the perfect time to travel’."

"What I said was, Ivanneth is the perfect time to travel," Glorfindel glowered at his friend. "This is the first of Hithui. As it is, it’ll be winter before we arrive on the borders of Mirkwood, if we’re lucky. So explain to me, O wise one, why you chose to wait until now to travel rather than earlier when the days were still warm and the nights gentle." Glorfindel’s sarcastic tone bordered on the insolent, though the golden-haired elf knew he had not yet crossed whatever invisible line of propriety he had established between himself and Elrond, though it was very close.

Elrond continued smiling, but his eyes glittered with something dangerous. "The curious thing about being the Lord of Imladris, mellon iaur nîn, is that you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone," he replied in an even tone.

Glorfindel blinked in surprise at the unexpected rebuke and there was a brief moment of tension between the two elves that was broken by someone entering the library.

"Fair day, Adar, Glorfindel."

Estel, not quite twenty-five, entered with a smile as he made his way to the balcony Glorfindel had recently vacated, breathing deeply and evidently taking delight in the wet piney smell of the morning air. Then, turning around, he threw his arms wide and exclaimed, "Isn’t it a glorious day? We sorely needed this rain after the dry summer we’ve had. Are you two ready to go, yet?"

The two elf-lords looked at each other and started laughing. Estel, looking on with bemusement, asked, "Something I said?" which only made the two elves laugh even harder.

It took a couple of minutes for the two to get themselves under control, but when Elrond heard Glorfindel mutter softly so Estel could not hear, "Ai, nésë!", it only set the Master of Imladris laughing again.

"Adar?" Estel’s expression was one of alarm as his eyes flitted between the two elves, wondering what was going on.

Glorfindel motioned for the young Man to come nearer, handing him Elrond’s carrysack. "Here, Estel, take your adar’s books and go on to the stables. We’ll be along shortly."

Clearly unsure what was happening, Estel hesitated, but when Elrond nodded and indicated that he should leave, the young Man shrugged, as if to say he wasn’t about to try to figure out the odd behavior of his elders, and left. Elrond smiled fondly at the retreating figure of his foster son.

Deciding to take his own leave, Glorfindel declared, "I’ll just go find my cloak and meet you at the stables."

"Fine. I have to give Erestor some last-minute instructions before I join you."

The golden-haired elf nodded before exiting, leaving Elrond alone again.

****

Estel finished securing his adar’s carrysack with the precious books to the rest of the supplies on the pack horse, enjoying the redolent smell of horse and hay and drying leather that permeated the stables. The rain was beginning to let up outside but it would still be a wet ride, at least for a few hours. Estel didn’t care. He was too excited about the trip to the Woodland Realm, his first trip to Thranduil’s kingdom in Mirkwood. In fact, it was his first trip ever across the Misty Mountains, for all his travels to date had been to the west among his own people.

He stopped at the thought. His own people. It was hard to believe that only a few years ago he believed himself to be Estel Elrondion, younger brother of Elrohir and Elladan, when in fact he was the son of a man he did not remember. It was still hard to think of himself as Aragorn son of Arathorn and he sometimes felt guilty calling Lord Elrond "adar", when clearly he was not, but Estel could not seem to stop himself and Elrond did not seem to mind.

"Aragorn," he said the name out loud, but softly, as if trying to see if the name fit him at all. "I am Aragorn, not Estel."

"And why can you not be both, muindor dithen?"

Estel looked up to see Elrohir enter the stables, his twin right behind him. Both were smiling.

"How can I be both, Elrohir? I’m not really your brother, you know," the young Man said with a tinge of regret.

"Are you ashamed of being Estel?" Elladan asked, his eyes narrowing.

Estel’s eyes widened. "Of course not! It’s just…I mean…."

"Stop teasing him, Elladan. Can’t you see you’re just confusing the boy more than he already is?" Elrohir glowered at his twin.

"I’m not a boy!" Estel practically shouted, and then wished the earth would just open up and swallow him whole when he saw the surprised expressions on the twins’ faces. Lately all he seemed to do was yell whenever he was around his brothers. His mother said he was going through a phase, but he wasn’t sure what she meant by that. He sighed and looked away.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell," he mumbled contritely, taking a brush to his horse’s mane, a dappled grey gelding named Mithfaron, who attempted to chew on Estel’s hair, as if he wanted to offer the young Man some comfort.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Elladan standing next to him looking chagrined. "No, it’s I who should apologize, Estel. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know learning about your true heritage has been difficult for you to assimilate, and, given time, we’re sure you’ll adjust, but you’ll always be our little brother, whoever else you may be."

Estel smiled shyly and nodded, glad that his brothers were not angry at him.

"But to go back to my original question," Elrohir said gently. "What makes you think you can’t be both Aragorn and Estel?"

Estel didn’t look at his brother, but stared down at his feet, as if thinking, then he shrugged. "When I’m with the Rangers, I’m Lord Aragorn son of Arathorn, their Chieftain, but when I’m here, I’m just Estel and everyone’s favorite pet, from Glorfindel on down. I just don’t think I can be both."

The twins looked over Estel’s still bowed head, identical eyebrows raised. Elladan clapped Estel on the shoulder and laughed. "I think you mean ‘everyone’s favorite pest’."

Estel looked up at that and saw his brothers smirking and a reluctant grin forced itself on his face and then before he realized it he was laughing and the twins joined him.

"Well, I’m glad to see we’re all in such a happy mood on this miserable day."

The three turned to see Glorfindel stepping into the stables, shaking the rain from his cloak and looking very sour.

"What’s the matter Glorfindel? Don’t like getting wet?" smirked Elrohir.

"No, I don’t," the golden-haired elf said shortly.

"This from the ellon who purposely led us on a five league run that took us under every waterfall around Imladris," retorted Elladan.

"That was different," Glorfindel responded with exaggerated dignity.

"Oh, how’s that?" Elrohir asked, his eyes narrowing.

"The curious thing about being the Captain of Imladris’ Guards is that you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone."

"Now where have I heard that line before?" Elrond said dryly, as he entered the stables in time to hear Glorfindel’s last words.

Glorfindel had the grace to blush and Estel and the twins looked at each other in bemusement. Estel finally shrugged and said, "Is it time to leave, Adar?"

The others smiled at the excitement in the younger Man’s voice, which he tried — and failed — to hide, not wanting to sound like an over-eager youngster.

"Yes, it’s time to leave. Did you say good-bye to your naneth?"

Estel rolled his eyes. "Adar, please!"

Elrond just looked at his foster son and Estel began to blush. "Sorry. We said our good-byes last night. Naneth said she loves me but not enough to waken before dawn to see me off."

Elrond merely nodded. "Your naneth is very wise."

The other elves chuckled at that.

Elladan turned to his father as Elrond was mounting his horse, a chestnut warhorse named Tologyll, and said, "I wish you would reconsider taking a complement of guards with you, Adar. I feel uneasy thinking of the three of you alone in the Wilds."

Glorfindel mounted his white horse, Asfaloth, and answered before Elrond could respond, "Your adar feels that it’s unnecessary. I don’t happen to agree, which is why I’m going."

Elrond looked down at his sons. "This is supposed to be a secret journey to Thranduil’s Realm. The fewer who accompany Estel and myself, the less chance of us being noticed."

"At least let us escort you through the Cirith Forn en Andrath," pleaded Elrohir. "That will be the most dangerous part of the trip."

Elladan nodded, but Elrond shook his head. "No. I foresee that the High Pass may in fact be the safest part of the entire trip and I would not have you leaving Imladris undefended. Erestor will need you both before we return."

Estel gasped at these words, while the others looked disturbed, for they sounded ominous.

"Adar, what—" Elrohir began, but Elrond cut him off with a shake of his head.

"No, iôn nîn. I will say no more. Come, we have lingered long enough. Let us go."

With that, the Lord of Imladris led them out of the stables, his two sons walking on either side of him. As they came outside, Estel glanced about and saw that the fog was beginning to lift somewhat, but it still lay heavy in the lower valleys. Just as they neared the gate that would lead out to the bridge separating Imladris from the rest of the valley, he saw a figure standing there waiting for them. It was Erestor.

When Elrond reached his chief administrator, he stopped. Looking down, he smiled. "You’ll see that Imladris is still here when we return, won’t you, Erestor?"

"Of course, Elrond. I haven’t misplaced Imladris yet in all these millennia, I doubt I’ll be so careless as to do it this late in the day."

Elrond chuckled. "We’ll be back in early Summer. Look for us by Laer."

Erestor nodded. "Safe journey, my lords. And Estel" — here he took hold of the horse’s bridle, forcing Estel to stop — "mind yourself. Thranduil is not your adar and the Woodland Realm is not Imladris."

Estel stared at the old elf for a minute before nodding. "Thank you, Erestor. I’ll keep your words in mind."

Erestor nodded, releasing Estel’s horse, then stepped back to allow the party to pass through the gate. Elrohir and Elladan voiced their good-byes. Estel turned his head and waved, the twins waving back, then turned his gaze forward again. When he looked back one more time, though, Imladris was lost in the fog.

About an hour’s ride from Imladris the fog began to lift. The rain had stopped shortly after they had left the hidden valley, but the trees still dripped and the sun was hiding behind thick dark clouds that slammed into the high peaks of the mountain range before them. Elrond insisted on taking the lead while Glorfindel had taken the even more dangerous rear; Estel was safely in the middle with the packhorse, a position that did not please him, for he felt that the two elves were being overprotective. On further reflection, though, he knew that if there was an attack from goblins or wargs, Elrond and Glorfindel were in a better position to do something about it than he, and he did not know the road to the High Pass at all. Still, it bruised his ego to be thought too young to take care of himself.

They were crossing a small rivulet that came skipping down from the foothills when Glorfindel moved up to speak with Estel, interrupting the young Man’s thoughts.

"Estel, I want to thank you for this morning," Glorfindel said quietly without preamble.

Estel looked up at the Captain of Imladris with a puzzled look. "Thank me for what, Glorfindel? I didn’t do anything."

Glorfindel smiled. "Oh yes, you did, when you walked into the library."

Estel’s gaze went blank as he tried to remember if he had done anything special for which Glorfindel would thank him, but he was at a loss. He remembered how eager he was to be on the road and chafing at his elders for taking their sweet time about it, but that was about all. He shrugged and smiled shyly. "Sorry, Glorfindel, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just glad we were finally leaving, is all."

"Exactly." And without another word, the elf allowed his horse to slow enough to take up the rear position again, leaving the young mortal feeling bemused.

Up ahead, Elrond smiled to himself, having heard the exchange. It was probably the first time he had ever heard the golden-haired Captain apologize to anyone, much less to a mortal. He decided not to enlighten his son as to Glorfindel’s remarks; that would be between the two of them.

For the rest of the morning they followed one of the paths out of Imladris leading northeast towards the High Pass, twenty-five leagues away as the eagle flies. In the rough terrain they would only be able to do about four or five leagues a day, and perhaps even less if the weather worsened or unforeseen obstacles barred their way. Which meant that it would be sometime on the seventh day from Imladris at the very earliest before they reached the beginning of the High Pass and Elrond had already decided they would not attempt to climb the pass itself until they had a full day to do so, for otherwise they would likely be caught in the cleft of the pass at sunset. Elrond knew that at this time of year and at that height the temperatures were brutal even during the day; at night they could prove to be deadly, especially for mortals. Even he and Glorfindel would feel it.

So it was that the three travelers wended their way through thick pine forests, their road climbing slowly but surely towards the mountains and the High Pass that would take them across the Misty Mountains and into the Wilderland. Estel spent much of his time looking around in curiosity, for he had never come this way before. Glorfindel and Elrond would occasionally point out certain features of the land, Glorfindel quizzing Estel on such matters as possible places for goblin ambushes or identifying the spoors of various animals that lived in these woods, while Elrond was more likely to point out various mosses and plants and explain their possible medicinal uses. If it weren’t for the fact that Estel thrived on such knowledge and enjoyed learning from his adar and Glorfindel, he might have resented the "schooling" he was getting. As it was, he soaked up the knowledge the two elves imparted to him like a sponge, filing the information away for the future.

Not that the time was spent only in lessons. Both Glorfindel and Elrond were fonts of wisdom and Estel was not averse to asking them about subjects ranging from history to geography to politics, especially that of Rhovanion and the Woodland Realm, places he had only heard about but had never seen.

"What did Erestor mean when he told me that Thranduil was not Adar, Glorfindel?" Estel asked when they stopped at noon to eat some bread and cheese and rest the horses.

Glorfindel glanced at Elrond, his expression unreadable. "Do you want to tell him?"

Elrond frowned, then shook his head. "The question was directed at you."

Glorfindel scowled at the Master of Imladris then turned to Estel. "Tell me what you know of Thranduil."

Now it was Estel’s turn to frown, though in concentration, as he attempted to dredge up half-forgotten history lessons that had seemed so boring to a ten-year-old boy more interested in fighting dragons and rescuing fair maidens, or at least his mother, from certain death.

"He is the son of Oropher, who was king of the Woodland Realm before him. Oropher died before the gates of Barad-dûr. He led a charge that left most of his people dead at Dagorlad." He looked up at Elrond and saw his adar’s nod of approval.

"What else?" Glorfindel asked.

"Hmm. That means he’s been ruling Mirkwood for about three thousand years."

"What kind of elf is he?" Elrond asked.

Estel looked at his adar in confusion for a moment, not sure what Elrond had meant, then his face cleared. "He’s a Sinda, isn’t he?"

Glorfindel and Elrond both nodded. Glorfindel said, "Yes, and he rules a kingdom of Sindar and Silvan."

"Like the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel in Lothlórien," Estel volunteered, pleased that he remembered that much.

Elrond smiled and nodded. "Much like, but not quite, for Galadriel is neither Sinda nor Silvan, but Noldo, and that makes a difference."

"How, Adar? I’m afraid the only elves I really know are of those of Imladris. Why does being a Noldo make a difference?"

The two elves glanced at each other, some kind of communication passing silently between them. Estel was too used to that sort of thing happening among elves to be upset about it and merely sat there waiting. Finally, Elrond looked at his foster son and said, "Perhaps, when you have seen Thranduil and his court for yourself you will be able to answer your own question, iôn nîn. In the meantime, it’s best we be getting on."

The rest of the first day passed without incident and they made good time, stopping about an hour before sunset to set up camp in the lee of a small hillock that afforded them and their horses some protection from the wind. A small stream danced merrily nearby. Estel had managed to bring down a brace of coneys, much to his delight, and was busy skinning them for a stew as Glorfindel tended the fire. Elrond had gone to look for some plants that he wished to add to his medicinal stores.

While he and Glorfindel sat beside the fire tending the stew, Estel asked, "Does Thranduil have any children?"

"A son, named Legolas. "Why do you ask?"

Estel shrugged as he busied himself with stirring the stew and adding a few more dried herbs after taste-testing it. "No reason. Just wondered, is all."

Glorfindel wasn’t fooled. He smiled knowingly. "Still looking for a playmate your own age?"

Estel glanced at the elf sharply, his face red with embarrassment and he laughed self-consciously. "No, not a playmate," he replied, ducking his head.

Glorfindel watched the young Man with paternal concern. He remembered vividly a five-year-old Estel, innocently and in all seriousness asking Gilraen a simple question one day during the noon meal....

****

"Nana?" Estel said in a voice that carried throughout the hall as he put his fork down and stared solemnly at his mother seated on his right. His ada was seated on his left and his two brothers were seated on the other side of ada. Glorfindel, as a member of the family, was seated on Gilraen’s right. "When are you and Ada going to give me a brother?"

You could have heard a pin drop.

That is, after everyone in the hall had stopped choking on their barely swallowed food and drink.

It was obvious to Glorfindel, looking at the boy’s solemn expression, that this was something he had been thinking about for some time, though it escaped the elf what possessed Estel to ask that question now. No doubt the logic of it was known only to the one sitting there swinging his fat little legs as he patiently awaited an answer. Stealing a quick glance around the hall he noticed that most of the elves were shamelessly staring at the head table, not daring to move for fear of breaking the spell that this latest addition to the household had managed to cast. Some of them — Glorfindel noted that these were parents themselves — were doing their best not to laugh out loud. He saw that Gilraen had gone first white with mortification and then red with embarrassment and even Elrond looked a bit nonplused as he stared down at his foster son as if he had never seen a human child before. Elrohir and Elladan, on the other hand, were grinning broadly, wicked gleams in both their eyes, and Glorfindel hoped the twins would not do or say anything to anger their adar or cause further embarrassment to Gilraen. He glared down the table at them and shook his head in warning when Elladan noticed him, but the younger elf merely smiled in a smug way that made Glorfindel cringe inwardly with a silent promise to himself to make sure he assigned them both patrol duties that would put the fear of the Valar into them if they chose to ignore his warning.

In the meantime, Gilraen was struggling to master her emotions, refusing to look up and so it was Elrond who responded to the boy’s question first.

"You already have two brothers, Estel. Why do you want another?" the Lord of Imladris said casually, returning to his salad.

Good, Glorfindel thought, keep it light and casual. Hopefully others will take their cue from Elrond.

"But Ada," Estel protested. "Elrohir and Elladan are always playing with Glorfindel and they never have time to play with me. I want my own brother to play with."

Now it was Glorfindel who was nonplused and he refused to look at Elrond or anyone else for fear he would start laughing out loud, thereby spoiling the mood. Estel was still too young to fully grasp that what his older brothers and Glorfindel were doing was not "playing", but obviously Estel had decided Glorfindel was the culprit in "stealing" his brothers away from him. He was saddened by the child’s resentment, but it was not unexpected. Arwen had had the same jealous feelings towards Glorfindel when she was not much older than Estel. It seemed to be a typical reaction of children with older siblings.

Gilraen entered the conversation. "Elrohir and Elladan are not playing when they are with Glorfindel, Estel, they are adults and they are working. We’ve talked about this, remember?"

But Estel was not convinced, Glorfindel could see. Older brothers were not adults, they were brothers, and their sole purpose in life was to entertain their younger siblings. Glorfindel had seen the same phenomenon played out in other families in Imladris and elsewhere.

"Your nana is correct, iôn nîn," added Elrond, looking down at the child with a frown. "You must not expect your brothers to be at your beck and call at all times. They are adults and have their own lives." He paused and his expression softened at the sadness and frustration in the child’s face. "As for your nana and I getting you another brother" — here Elrond glanced briefly and sympathetically at Gilraen before returning his attention to Estel — "you will understand when you are older why that cannot be."

"It’s not fair! Everyone gets to have a brother but me!" Estel cried, tears beginning to form as he leapt off his chair and ran towards the kitchen.

"Estel, come back here this instant!" Gilraen shouted, suddenly angry in her embarrassment at her son’s behavior, but Estel refused to listen and he was soon out of sight. Glorfindel wondered briefly if he should go after the lad, but one glance from Elrond convinced him to stay where he was.

Gilraen was stammering an apology. "I’m sorry my lord. I don’t know what came over him."

Elrond raised a hand. "No apology is necessary, my lady. The boy is bright and inquisitive and he is becoming old enough to be aware of many things. He is bound to have questions, questions for which we can give him no adequate answers, given the circumstances."

Gilraen kept her head down, nodding at Elrond’s words, then, without looking up, she said softly, "If you will excuse me, my lord, I think I will retire."

"Of course, my dear," Elrond said solicitously.

They all rose when Gilraen stood up and after a brief curtsey she made her way out the main doors of the hall. As she left they could all hear her muttering. Only the superior hearing of the elves allowed any of them to hear her words.

"Damn you, Arathorn, why did you have to go and get yourself killed when your son needs you? When I need you? How could you have been so selfish?"

Glorfindel noticed the stricken looks on the twins’ faces, for they had been there when Arathorn had been struck down with an orc-arrow in his eye and felt responsible for his death. Glorfindel sighed, his appetite gone. Elrond, on the other hand, went back to eating his salad....

****

"What’s so funny?"

Glorfindel looked up at the young Man sitting next to him, suddenly realizing he’d been chuckling over the memory. His smile was genuinely warm. "Just remembering a five-year-old wondering why he didn’t have any playmates his own age."

"Oh. I’d forgotten about that," Estel said with an embarrassed laugh. "I was just a child and didn’t understand —"

"No need to explain it to me, Estel. I was there, remember? But you still seem to be looking for ‘playmates’ aren’t you?"

"No, not ‘playmates’ — companions, friends."

"You have friends among the Rangers, do you not?"

Estel shook his head. "Companions, maybe, but not friends. As young as I am, I’m their Chieftain and that’s how they treat me. Even the ones who are my age treat me with the same kind of respect they reserve for their fathers and captains." He stirred the stew, his expression troubled.

"What about Halbarad?"

"Halbarad and I are close, it is true, and he’s almost like a brother to me, but at the end of the day I am still his Chieftain. It would be nice if I had someone my age with whom I could just be friends without also having to be their leader."

Glorfindel laid a sympathetic hand on Estel’s shoulder, suddenly understanding the lad’s question concerning Legolas. "I wish you did as well, pen neth nîn, but I’m afraid you’re out of luck with Legolas. He’s no longer an elfling. In fact he must be at least...." Glorfindel paused, trying to remember just how old the son of Thranduil would be by now.

"Legolas is fourteen years past his first millennium."

The two by the fire looked up to see Elrond coming towards them, carrying various plants and mosses carefully wrapped in an oiled cloth. "I sent him a Begetting Day gift when he turned a thousand," Elrond replied to Glorfindel’s unspoken question.

Glorfindel nodded. The coming-of-age ceremony among elves was always an important celebration, but reaching one’s first millennium was also noted among them and Elrond sending Legolas a Begetting Day gift at the time would not have been considered unusual.

Elrond sat down next to Estel, a look of concern on his face. "What is it, iôn nîn? What has you upset?"

Estel looked at Elrond in surprise. "Nothing, Adar. I’m not upset. Glorfindel and I were just talking about things and I wondered if Thranduil had any children. That’s all. Oh, look, I think the stew is ready." With that, he stood up to serve the stew, leaving Elrond and Glorfindel to stare at one another. Glorfindel smiled at Elrond’s unspoken question but did not say anything.

Later, however, after Estel had completed the first watch and Elrond had taken the second, Glorfindel, who was not sleeping, came to where Elrond was sitting. They both sat in silence, listening to the night sounds of the forest around them, waiting for Estel to fall asleep before speaking.

"So, do you want to tell me what Estel would not?" Elrond finally said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

For a few moments Glorfindel did not speak, marshalling his thoughts. "Do you remember when Estel was about five asking when you and Gilraen would get around to giving him a brother?"

Elrond nodded with a smile. "Yes. Gilraen was quite embarrassed by the whole thing, and I have to admit I was a bit taken aback myself. Is that what this is all about? He’s still pining after a playmate of his own?"

Glorfindel snorted. "You’ve fallen into the same trap I did earlier. No, Estel isn’t an elfling looking for a playmate, he’s a young Man looking for a friend, a gwador, if you want to be more precise."

"Valar!"

"Exactly."

The two elves sat in silence again, each with his own thoughts. Elrond glanced over to where Estel now slept, one hand over his eyes, and, Elrond noted with approval, the other lightly touching the sword lying next to him. Even in sleep the lad was ever vigilant against the possibility of attack.

He sighed, recognizing where he had made his mistake. At nearly twenty-five, Estel — no, Aragorn, he corrected himself mentally — was an adult, equivalent to an elf who has reached fifty. He was no longer a child, as hard as it was to admit it. But, he thought sardonically, it had been just as hard to admit that Elrohir and Elladan were adults at fifty and, even when they were twice that, he had still thought of them as elflings. He imagined every parent felt the same way about their children, and Elrond considered Estel to be as much his child as the twins or Arwen.

"So what do we do about it?" He asked quietly.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Nothing. This is something Estel has to work out for himself. The best we can do is be there when he needs our love and support the most." He turned to face Elrond, his eyes full of amused compassion. "You can no more live Estel’s life than you can live your sons’ or Arwen’s, however much you might wish to."

Elrond grimaced at the gentle reminder from his friend. "I tried that once. I won’t make the same mistake twice."

Glorfindel nodded. "Good. See that you don’t."

Elrond glared at the elf, then said, "Unless you want to sit through two watches, you should rest, Captain."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows at that, but merely nodded. "You are correct, my lord. I will leave you to your watch." With that he stood up and carefully made his way back to his bedroll, but not before stopping next to where Estel lay and gently placing a hand on the young Man’s forehead. Estel did not waken, but sighed, loosening his hold on his sword as he rolled over onto his side, slipping deeper into dreamless sleep.

****

Orithiliath: orithil (Monday) + -(i)ath: class plural. The first day of Hithui (November) always begins on a Monday.

Mellon nîn: My friend.

Ivanneth: September.

Mellon iaur nîn: My old friend.

Adar/ada: Father/daddy.

Ai, nésë!: (Quenya) 'Ah, youth!'

Muindor dithen: Little brother.

Mithfaron: Grey Hunter [from mith "grey" + faron "hunter].

Ellon: Male elf.

Naneth/nana: mother/mama.

Tologyll: Trusty Bearer [from tolog "trusty, stalwart" + the lenited form of cyll "bearer"].

Cirith Forn en Andrath: the High Pass in the Misty Mountains which connects Imladris to the Vale of Anduin. Literally, it means "the North Pass of the Long Climb"; see UT/"The Disaster of the Gladden Fields".

Iôn nîn: My son.

Laer: Summer, which began, according to the Imladris Calendar, on 25 Lothron (May).

Pen neth nîn: My young one, youngling.

Gwador: Sworn brother; boon companion.

II: Misty Mountain High

The next two days were cloudy but dry and, in spite of the fact that the ground was somewhat treacherous with mud in some places, they made better time than they had anticipated so that Elrond felt confident that they would reach the beginning of the High Pass by late afternoon of the sixth day out of Imladris. However, about an hour after noon on the fourth day, the clouds lowered and the day darkened as a storm came up from the west. They were high in the foothills now where the red stone of the lower valleys around Imladris had given way to the grey stone of the mountains, but they still had a way to go.

Glorfindel glanced at the sky and looked back westward, grimacing as he did. "Elrond, we’re going to need to find shelter soon. This storm is coming up faster than I like."

Elrond stopped and waited for Estel and Glorfindel to come up to him. "There are some small caves about here somewhere if we can find them. As I recall, they’re somewhat off the path."

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes, I remember. They’re not very large or deep but they will afford us better shelter than these trees. The problem is, I think we passed them about a half an hour ago, where the path made that sharp right turn."

Estel glanced to the west, frowning. "Do we have time to reach these caves before the storm breaks, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "No. And finding them would be tricky even without a storm on top of us. None of the Rangers or Elves bother with them too much because they are too far from the path to make them practical as stopping places and they are not deep or large enough to house any but one or two people at a time."

"So what should we do?" Estel asked with some concern, looking to his elders for answers.

Glorfindel and Elrond exchanged glances. "What do you think, Captain?" Elrond finally asked. "Risk going on or going back?"

By now the wind had begun to pick up, roaring down at them so that their horses began shying as dead leaves swirled about them. It was nearly as dark as night now, though neither of the elves had trouble seeing.

"I don’t think we have any choice," Glorfindel yelled above the wind. "We should look for someplace near here to shelter. The caves are too far away now."

"I agree," nodded Elrond. "If memory serves, there is a small ravine on the other side of this rise that might give us some shelter. Estel, stay close to Glorfindel. I don’t want you wandering away from us in this dark."

"I can take care of myself, Adar," Estel shouted resentfully, refusing to admit that his mortal eyes were already having trouble piercing the darkness.

Elrond shook his head. "Not in this, iôn nîn. You’ve never experienced a mountain storm like this. Stay close to Glorfindel."

Estel’s expression was mulish but he nodded once and Glorfindel knew he would do as he was told. Elrond was correct. Estel had never been this far east before and was unused to the dangers such a storm presented this high up in the foothills. Imladris was much lower and in a relatively secluded valley where storms were not as dangerous, or as frightening.

Now, with the wind, came lightning, and thunder rolled ominously across the landscape. The three of them made their way slowly along the path for another few hundred feet with Elrond in the lead. Glorfindel had moved up alongside Estel, using Asfaloth to gently guide the young Man’s horse. They found the ravine, nothing more than a shallow depression that ran north and south along the right side of the path, its walls low where it opened up onto the path, but rising only to chest high to Elrond the further in one went. Dismounting from their horses, they made their way down to the deepest part of the cleft.

They made it just in time, for the storm suddenly broke above them as lightning slashed across the sky and the thunder sounded so close that the ground shook. The ravine gave them no real shelter but with their backs against one wall and the horses serving as a windbreak, they were able to avoid the worst of the storm, though they were rather soaked, even huddled in their oiled cloaks.

Estel sat between the two elves who shared their warmth with the younger Man, though they were all thoroughly wet and miserable before long. The storm continued in fury for the rest of the day, with short lulls now and then when the wind would die down, giving them all a chance to stand and stretch their cramped legs and relieve themselves if necessary, but the rain never fully stopped. Water seeped about them but the angle of the ravine forced most of it downslope to the south, so that their camp was not flooded. As the day fled towards night the temperature dropped rapidly. The two elves were able to escape the worst of it into elvish dreams, but Estel did not have that ability and attempts to doze were futile, so by the time the storm blew itself out, some hours after sunset, Estel was feeling sick, and shivering uncontrollably from the wet and cold.

"Glorfindel, get a fire started and make some tea," Elrond ordered once the rain finally stopped. Glorfindel acknowledged the order with a grunt and was soon gathering the dry wood that they had carried with them and within minutes a cheery fire was going. The clouds, which had covered the mountains for most of the past week, were breaking up and glints of starlight shone through ragged openings.

"Come, iôn nîn, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into something drier. We’ll get you some hot tea and a little something to eat and you’ll feel better for it."

Estel merely nodded, too tired to speak. His head felt stuffy and he had a terrible urge to sneeze, which he did, several times, before he was able to stop.

"Thorry, Adar," he mumbled as Elrond helped him out of his tunic and leggings.

"There’s nothing to be sorry about, Aragorn. Here, have some tea." Elrond handed him the mug that Glorfindel had brought him and the young Man drank the soothing drink of cordof-e-dalaf with its fruity aroma reminiscent of apples. Glorfindel had raided Elrond’s medicine supplies and had found some athelas and mint, which he had added to the tea, and they helped to relieve some of the symptoms that Estel was feeling. When he had downed the tea, Elrond refilled the mug, adding a sleeping draught to the mix, and bade Estel to drink some more, which he did, but when Elrond tried to get him to eat some waybread, the young Man refused, claiming that the thought of food made him feel queasy, so Elrond didn’t push it. Instead, he and Glorfindel threw a tarpaulin on the ground and covered it with blankets and cloaks and made Estel lie down as close to the fire as possible. By now the shivering had stopped, and the lad was nearly asleep.

"I thoud be taking the firth wath, Adar," Estel protested through his stuffed nose.

"Not tonight, iôn nîn. Tonight Glorfindel and I will split the watches. You must rest or you will be even sicker tomorrow than you are now and we will be forced to return to Imladris."

The threat of returning home was enough to still Estel’s protests and soon he fell into a fitful sleep. It was then, and only then, that the two elves bothered to change into dry clothing themselves, Glorfindel pouring out some more tea for himself and Elrond, each of them munching on some waybread, neither of them actually tasting it.

"Do you think he will be all right tomorrow?" Glorfindel asked, pouring himself some more of the hot drink. The mingled smells of athelas and mint still lingered in the night air, leaving them both feeling refreshed.

"I believe so. He is of the race of Númenor and the Valar granted them not only a longer lifespan but a stronger constitution so they do not suffer as much from ailments common among the lesser Men of Middle-earth, but he is still mortal. I deem a good night’s rest will cure much that ails him, but I think it might be wise to set up camp for another day before going on. We’ve made better time than I had thought for this time of year, a day of rest will not seriously endanger us."

"You’re thinking of the High Pass. It’s rarely open this late in the year."

"Yes, I know," Elrond nodded his thanks as Glorfindel silently offered to refill his cup. "But the summer was unusually dry and the warm weather continued well into autumn. I do not think the snow pack will be as heavy as it normally would be. If we had started another week or so later, that would not be the case and we would have either had to postpone the trip or gone further south, perhaps even to the pass at Caradhras."

"Hmph. I little like the route we are taking now, I like the idea of Caradhras even less."

"Once we’re over the mountains our road should be less troublesome."

"Famous last words."

Elrond smiled at that, knowing that there was more truth in Glorfindel’s pessimism than he was willing to admit to himself. Leaving as late in the year as they had, there was an element of danger no matter what their route, not only from orcs and wargs and such, but from the weather, which was chancy at best in these mountains and downright deadly at worst. Elrond sighed inwardly. He would not have waited this long before leaving but he had good reason for the delay; he just wasn’t ready to divulge that reason to his traveling companions. Estel didn’t care. He was too excited about the journey and seeing new places to wonder at the late start, but Glorfindel was rightly concerned, about many things, and with good reason, but it could not be helped.

As if reading his mind, though Elrond knew that neither of them were in the mood to engage in ósanwë, Glorfindel said, "I know you have your reasons for delaying our leavetaking as long as you did, and I hope someday you will share those reasons with me, but for now, accept that I am willing to go along, if only to keep the two of you out of trouble."

"‘Keep the two of us out of trouble?’" Elrond chuckled. "And what makes you think we will need any rescuing?"

Glorfindel smirked. "That should be obvious, even to you, Elrond. Estel is young enough to have no fear, and therefore, no sense. You, on the other hand, are too much the adar to think rationally when one of your children is in danger. That’s why I’m along — to stop Estel from doing anything foolish, and to ensure you do nothing stupid when he does."

"Ah, I was wondering why I’ve allowed you to hang around Imladris all these millennia."

Glorfindel sputtered into his tea as he started laughing. "‘Hang around Imladris’, is it? I’ll remember you said that the next time you really need my services. It’s growing late. I’ll take the first watch while you rest."

Elrond nodded. "Wake me if Estel becomes restless. I’ll dose him again, though I would prefer not to have to."

"I’ll do no such thing. If Estel needs any dosing I’m quite capable of doing it. Go to sleep."

Elrond smiled sardonically as he stood up to get his bedroll. "Yes, naneth. Anything you say, naneth."

Glorfindel was still laughing quietly to himself as Elrond drifted into elvish dreams.

****

"Elrond."

The Master of Imladris woke to see Glorfindel leaning over him, his expression worried. Above him the skies were clear and the stars spangled the heavens, but their positions told him he still had two hours before Glorfindel would relieve him. The gibbous moon was riding low in the West.

"Estel?"

Glorfindel nodded as Elrond sat up. "He’s begun coughing and I think he has a fever."

Elrond stood and went to Estel, who, in spite of a coughing spell, had not woken, but was still lost in feverish sleep. Elrond could see in the firelight that his foster son’s face was flushed and a quick touch showed the skin dry, as well. Another coughing fit took Estel and Elrond held him.

"Boil some more water," he commanded. "In my medicine bag is some laiss en-eregdos and a tincture of mîdhanor in a purple quartz vial. Crush three or four leaves into the boiling water, then add no more than two drops of the mîdhanor. The holly leaves will help bring down the fever and the mîdhanor will aid in suppressing the cough."

"Should I add more athelas as well?"

Elrond shook his head. "He’s already had some of that and I don’t wish to overdose him. You can add a little honey to it though. It’ll sweeten the taste and help soothe his throat."

"There’s a small rill just to the south of here. It’s not very deep but if we have to we can probably put him into it to help cool him down."

"Good. I will go and wet some cloths and see how that works first. I should be back before the tea is ready."

Elrond went to his pack and withdrew a couple of cloths that he had brought to store any herbs he might come across in his travels and following Glorfindel’s directions went south along the ravine towards the sound of flowing water. Glorfindel had been correct. The rill was barely a couple of inches deep in most places, but it would do in a pinch if they needed to submerge Estel. The water was certainly cold enough. He wet the cloths and returned to the camp. Glorfindel was holding Estel and softly singing as the young Man went through another coughing spell. He looked up as Elrond approached.

"Here’s the tea." Glorfindel nodded towards a mug sitting beside him. "I’ll hold him while you dose him," moving around to hold Estel from behind as he spoke.

Elrond nodded, giving the wet cloths to Glorfindel. "Place these on his forehead and neck." The cold cloths seemed to bring some relief to the young Man, for the coughing stopped, at least for the moment.

"Let’s get this down before the next fit takes him," Elrond said picking up the mug. "Tolo, Estel. Lasto na bith nîn. Boe achen hen sogo ar no mae."

Estel did not awaken yet he seemed to respond to Elrond’s voice, for when Elrond placed the mug to his lips, Estel began to swallow automatically. "All of it, iôn nîn. That’s it. Good lad."

When the mug was empty, Glorfindel laid Estel back down while Elrond ran his hands lightly above the young Man’s body. Both elves sang softly, encouraging Estel’s body to throw off the fever and heal. After a few minutes, when no more coughing fits wracked him, they stopped.

"I’ll stay with him," Elrond said. "You go and rest for what’s left of the night. In the morning I think we should move the camp closer to that rill, just in case. There appeared to be a shelf of rock nearby that we can probably use as the campsite if it’s not too narrow. It’ll be drier than the ground, at any rate."

"I’ll take a look in the morning, then," Glorfindel said before going to his bedroll and lying down. It was some time though before dreams took him.

****

It was late morning when Estel woke, wondering where the orcs who had been doing terrible things to his body the night before had gone. His ribs ached and so did his head. In fact, on further reflection, he couldn’t seem to find any part of his body that didn’t hurt. He moaned involuntarily as he attempted to move and felt a warm and gentle hand resting on his forehead.

"Adar?" he said, although it didn’t sound like his voice, all thin and pale and weak.

"I’m here, Estel." His adar’s voice comforted him and he stopped trying to rise, willing to just lie there. "You had a bad night, but I think the worst is over."

"What happened?"

"You fell ill from exposure. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Estel," Elrond added, divining the reason for his foster son’s sudden grimace. "You may be one of the Dúnedain but you are still mortal and are prone to such things. But you are young and healthy, so I think you will recover quickly."

Estel attempted to rise and Elrond helped him to sit up. Blearily looking about, he noticed that both his adar’s and Glorfindel’s horses were gone and only Mithfaron was in sight, quietly munching on some grass. "Where’s Glorfindel?"

"Gone down the ravine to set up a new campsite. This one is not very suitable under the circumstances. There’s a rill just south of here and a rock shelf that’s wide enough for all of us which is drier than the ground. I decided to let you sleep as long as you wanted. When you’re ready I’ll help you onto Mithfaron and take you there."

"I can walk, Adar. I’m not a baby," Estel protested, trying to stand up then thinking twice about it when the ground and the sky began trading places.

"Not yet, iôn nîn. Here, have some tea, and no," the elf-lord chuckled at Estel’s expression, "I haven’t laced it with anything. It’s just tea. And if you’re up to eating something I have some waybread."

The young Man nodded and sitting up slowly again, he leaned against a couple of saddle bags that Elrond placed behind him for support, and drank the hot brew, savoring its warmth, then nibbled a bite or two of the waybread. Afterwards, he felt stronger and his body ached less than it had when he had wakened.

"Feeling better?" Elrond smiled as Estel handed him an empty mug.

"Yes, Adar. In fact, I think I need to—" Estel tried to stand up again, and Elrond, realizing the young Man’s predicament, helped him up and steadied him when it looked as if he might collapse again.

"You can go over here," Elrond said as he helped Estel towards a group of low-lying bushes further up the ravine.

Afterwards, Elrond helped Estel onto the horse, gathering the rest of their supplies, and dousing the fire before setting off towards their new camp. Estel gripped his knees as best he could and wrapped his hands in Mithfaron’s mane, keeping his eyes closed from the dizziness and praying that he would not further disgrace himself by falling off his horse, though being elf-trained, Mithfaron was unlikely to allow that to happen.

It took only minutes for them to arrive at the new camp to find another, larger, fire cheerily greeting them. Glorfindel was there and he smiled broadly when he saw them come into view.

"About time you woke up, youngling," he admonished Estel as he helped him to dismount. "I was about to come and wake you myself."

Estel grinned weakly. "Atheg let me sleep as long as I wanted," he replied smugly, reverting to the finger play name for "adar" his brothers had taught him when he first came to Imladris.

"Oh, I see," Glorfindel said, stealing an amused glance at Elrond, who rolled his eyes. "Then you must be the gwinig of the family, heh?" calling Estel by the finger play name associated with the pinkie finger.

"Not a gwinig," Estel protested with a shake of his head as Glorfindel helped him to climb the ledge and settle himself on a bed of cloaks.

"Well you certainly are the youngest," Glorfindel said with a laugh. "Now, why don’t you lie down and sleep. We’ll wake you for dinner."

"Not sleepy either," Estel said as he lowered himself onto the cloaks, sighing gratefully as Glorfindel tucked a couple of blankets around him. He couldn’t believe how weak he felt.

"Sleep, gwinig nîn," Elrond said with a smile, stroking the young Man’s forehead. "You need to conserve your strength."

Estel nodded and closing his eyes was soon fast asleep, never feeling the light kiss on his forehead from his adar.

****

When Estel awoke a second time it was to the smell of something good cooking over the fire and the sound of someone playing the harp and singing softly. He opened his eyes to find that most of the day was spent, for the sun was now two-thirds down the western sky, casting long shadows eastward. Looking about he noticed Glorfindel sitting cross-legged near the fire, plucking on harp strings and singing softly in Quenya. The tune was unfamiliar to Estel, though the words were obviously a lullaby:

    "Quildë winicë, ava nyéna,

     atto tultuva cen lomelindë.

     Qui lomelindë tan' uva lirë,

     atto tultuva cen sindarilya corma.

     Qui corma tana carna latucenda,

     atto —"

Glorfindel stopped singing when he noticed Estel trying to sit up.

"So, you’re finally awake," Glorfindel smiled and put down the harp. "Do you think you can eat something? I have some stew ready. Or do you need to get up?"

"Yes to both but not in that order."

Glorfindel laughed and stood up gracefully, leaning over to help Estel stand up and then step down off the rock shelf. "The privy is that way," pointing towards a stand of trees to the left of their camp away from the rill that was their drinking water. "Need help?"

Estel shook his head. "I think I can make it." So saying he made his way slowly towards the trees, taking care in his lightheadedness to watch his step. The ground was still somewhat wet from the rains of the previous day and the grass slippery. However, he made it to the trees and back without incident, though he had to grasp the edge of the shelf when he returned and sit down, feeling short of breath, rather than try to climb the shelf. Without a word Glorfindel handed him a bowl of stew and a spoon as he sat there looking about. He was still too out of breath to do more than nod his thanks before taking a cautious sip of the stew.

"Hmm. Good."

"I’m glad you approve," Glorfindel said with a smile as he sat next to Estel.

"I always like your cooking. You’re better than Elrohir or Elladan. But don’t you tell them that."

Glorfindel merely shook his head. "I’ve had more practice."

Estel snorted at this and continued eating. It wasn’t until he was almost finished with the bowl that he noticed that Elrond was not there.

"Where’s Adar?"

"I sent him away. He was getting on my nerves."

"He was what!?" Estel nearly shouted, quite forgetting to eat in his shock.

Glorfindel laughed outright. "Your adar is a wonderful person, but he has a nasty habit of being somewhat emotional where his children are concerned. As a healer he has learned to be objective, but it’s rather hard to be objective when the patient is a loved one. Since he wouldn’t lie down and rest I sent him off to find some rare herb or other so I could finally get some rest. I told him in no uncertain terms I didn’t want to see his face before sundown."

Estel stared at the golden-haired elf in wonder, his eyes wide. "I sure would’ve liked to have been awake for that conversation."

Glorfindel laughed again. "Just as well you weren’t. Most of it was conducted in complete silence."

"Oh," Estel said in a disappointed voice. Sometimes being raised by elves could be problematic for a human when said human could not engage in ósanwë with them. Then he shrugged and held out his now empty bowl. "More?"

"Definitely, more," Glorfindel said, standing up and going over to the fire. "And I have some tea as well, or would you prefer water?"

"Tea is fine."

As Estel finished the second bowl of stew, the sun was just kissing the foothills to the west and Elrond came into view, strolling down the ravine from the path to the High Pass, carrying several samples of plant life in a piece of muslin. He had a contented look and his face lit up with a smile when he saw Estel sitting up and eating.

"How are you feeling, iôn nîn?"

"He’s already eaten two bowls of stew," Glorfindel answered before Estel could speak. "Another five minutes and you would’ve been out of luck for dinner."

Estel blushed, looking down at his now empty bowl. "I was hungry," he murmured.

Elrond chuckled, "In that case I wouldn’t have minded going without, for it is good to see you looking so well." Elrond carefully lay the muslin down and felt Estel’s forehead and gazed into his eyes. Estel did not flinch, though it felt almost as if his adar were rummaging about in his mind. Before the feeling became too uncomfortable, however, Elrond released him, nodding. "Perhaps another day of rest will not be amiss."

"But Adar, I feel fine."

The two elves glanced at one another and Glorfindel gave an imperceptible shake of his head. "He barely made it back from the trees, though he did do it on his own."

Estel blushed again, feeling about ten years old with the grown-ups talking about him rather than at him. Elrond must have felt his embarrassment for he laid a hand under his chin, making Estel look up.

"Another day’s rest will not do any of us any harm, iôn nîn. The trek up the pass is arduous under even ideal circumstances and you will need to have your full strength back to climb."

"Yes, Adar," he said resignedly.

"You may be the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, Aragorn," Glorfindel said as he sat down beside him, "but if Belegond were here" — naming one of the older Rangers whom Aragorn respected for his knowledge of the Wilds and the ways of battle — "he would say the same thing, and" — here Glorfindel glanced up at Elrond with a wink — "unlike your adar or me, he would most likely tie you down and spoon feed you until you saw reason."

Estel snorted, trying not to laugh. "He would, too, the old warhorse."

"That’s better," Glorfindel said approvingly. "Anyone for more tea?"

By now the sun had set and the dark had come, spangled with stars, the moon still hours away from rising. The three of them sat around the fire and drank their tea but soon Estel found himself struggling to stay awake. Finally, Elrond told him it was time for him to retire, so after making his way to the trees and back again with Elrond guiding him in the dark, he climbed into the nest of cloaks and blankets that was his bed and settled down to sleep, but perversely he found himself feeling wide awake again.

Glorfindel was now idly strumming his harp, while Elrond began sorting out the plants he had collected earlier.

"Would you tell me a story, Adar, like you used to when I was little?" Estel asked as he suddenly sat up.

"Anything in particular?" Elrond stopped what he was doing to look over at his foster son.

Estel lay back down and stared for a moment into the night sky with its sea of stars glittering above him before answering. "Tell me about Finrod finding Bëor and his people."

For a moment Elrond said nothing, as if gathering his thoughts, then Glorfindel began playing a particular melody on the harp and, recognizing the tune, Elrond nodded his thanks to the golden-haired elf, then softly sang:

     "The Elvenking of Nargothrond,

     Finrod Felagund by name,

     did hunt the wild stag and boar

     with Fëanor's sons of mighty fame. 

     But wearying of the the hunt he bore

     himself 'cross Gelion's stony ford

     and into fair Ossiriand he rode...."

But Estel was fast asleep long before his adar ever reached the part where Finrod first found the race of Men camped below the springs of Thalos.

****

The next day was fair and Estel spent most of it resting, occasionally taking a walk at the suggestion of the elves to get his wind back. Elrond and Glorfindel took turns wandering through the woods listening to the voices of the trees. By the time Glorfindel had served the evening meal, Elrond declared that Estel was well enough that they would set out the next morning for the High Pass, much to that young Man’s relief.

"We should come to the lower reaches of the pass the day after tomorrow," Elrond said, "then climb the pass itself the next day after that. Ithil will be rising late and even though he will be past full by then and waning, he will still be bright enough to give us plenty of light to see by until Anor rises. We will start our climb about two hours before dawn. I would like us to be at the crest by noon and be below the tree line on the other side before sunset. This time of year it would not do to be caught above the tree line after dark."

Thus during the next two days they made their way ever deeper into the foothills and upward towards the mountains, reaching the place where Elrond intended to camp before attempting the pass late in the afternoon on the eighth day from Imladris. After making camp and eating a quick meal, Elrond insisted that Estel try to sleep even though it was still early, Anor having just set.

"We will be leaving very early and you should be well rested," Elrond explained. For once Estel saw the wisdom of his foster father’s words and complied with Elrond’s wishes, even though he doubted he would fall asleep anytime soon, but within half an hour he was fast asleep, little suspecting that the sleeping draught Elrond had slipped into his tea earlier had anything to do with it.

It was Glorfindel who woke him and at first he was unsure where he was but memory returned and he quickly got up, shivering slightly in the cold dark air before he was completely dressed and sipping some hot tea. Ithil had risen only an hour earlier from the looks of it and his gibbous light cast strange shadows across the land. Within a short time the camp was struck and, with Elrond leading, they made their way along the winding path leading upward to the crest of the pass.

For the first few hours the path was fairly easy and the horses had no problem climbing, but by the time Anor slipped above the peaks of the Misty Mountains to cast her golden light upon the West, they were forced to walk, the way becoming too steep for riding. When, about halfway up, Glorfindel started complaining about having gotten a stone in his left boot, they stopped to rest and have some waybread. Elrond wasn’t fooled even if Estel was, for the elf-lord knew perfectly well that Glorfindel had called for a halt to give Estel a breather without making it obvious, for the climb was becoming just steep enough to be taxing on the young mortal, still recovering from his illness.

Estel, on the other hand, spent the moments of rest gazing up at the towering snow-clad peaks above him. The Misty Mountains had always been in the background for as long as he could remember, a part of the landscape without actually impinging upon his consciousness. Now, however, he was in the midst of these jagged peaks and they were awe-inspiring, to say the least. In the early morning there was such a profound silence about him as to be deafening and the weight of the mountains was almost physical and crept inside his bones, making him feel small and unimportant in the grander scheme of things. The awful realness of the mountains mesmerized him and he began to feel dizzy.

"Estel."

Estel shook his head, the spell broken, suddenly realizing that Elrond had been calling his name more than once. "Sorry, Adar. Did you say something?"

Elrond gazed at his foster son for a moment before speaking. "It’s time to go. Glorfindel’s found his stone."

"Oh, yes, of course," Estel said, feeling somewhat embarrassed, though he wasn’t sure why.

Without another word the three travelers continued and Estel kept his eyes resolutely in front of him. Onward they climbed and by midmorning they had reached the tree line. Towering evergreens had long given way to dwarf pine that were barely as tall as Estel and snow now blanketed the ground, though this far below the peaks such snow did not survive the summer heat. Further up, the peaks were wreathed in eternal white. The path was relatively clear but care still had to be taken for there was loose shale about and rockslides were a possibility.

It was just past noon when they reached the crest of the pass and for the first time in his life Estel looked upon the lands of Rhovanion stretching out before him, with the Anduin flowing in the middle distance below. Further on, a smudge of bluish-green marked the western edge of Mirkwood. Somewhere beyond lay the Woodland Realm of Thranduil.

"We’ll rest here for an hour before going down," Elrond said and they set about to have something to eat and relax under the noonday sun.

Estel, for one, was glad they were going to rest for longer than five minutes, for, in spite of the cold, he was sweating from the exertion of the last few hours. The air was far colder and thinner than he had ever experienced, making breathing difficult. Glorfindel had warned him to move slowly and to breathe naturally. They would not be staying at these heights for very long anyway.

As they chewed on the waybread and drank from their water bottles, thick dark clouds began to close in on them, scuttling down from the northwest, down from the ancient land of Angmar, that dread and drear land, the brumal winds stealing the warmth from their bodies. Glorfindel scowled up at the lowering clouds darkening the sky and threatening them.

"Looks like we’re about to get some snow," he said finally.

Elrond merely grunted. "We should perhaps start down sooner rather than later. I want to reach the tree line before dark and that will come early with the snow."

So saying, Elrond began to gather their supplies and Estel stood up wearily from the boulder he had been sitting on, wishing he could breath properly, for it seemed to him that he could not get enough air in his lungs and he was beginning to feel ill again. Elrond must have noticed for he began rummaging in his medicine bag, producing several leaves, which from their smell had to be some kind of mint, and handing them to Estel.

"Chew on these, iôn nîn. They will help dispel the feeling of nausea."

Estel took the leaves gratefully and began chewing on them. Their peppery taste warred with the sick feeling at first, yet, within a short time, the nausea began to recede.

They had gone down the path only a short way when it began to snow, big, fat flakes of white, drifting slowly down at first, but soon gathering speed. All three travelers put up the hoods of their cloaks and it wasn’t long before the flurries turned into a real storm and they were forced to walk more slowly in the gathering gloom, for the path had become treacherous and drifts were rising across it as the snow was driven by the wind. Elrond stopped to let Estel come to him.

"The tree line is directly below us," the elf-lord shouted above the wind. "I’ll make a path for you to follow."

Estel merely nodded and waited for Elrond to move on before following in his adar’s footsteps, for Elrond deliberately plowed through the snow piling before them for Estel to follow. Estel kept his eyes on the ground following the path marked by Elrond, but the snow was falling so quickly and the wind was sweeping over them all that Elrond’s footprints were covered up almost immediately and it was difficult to find them at times.

After what seemed like hours but could only have been a few minutes, Mithfaron, suddenly stopped, forcing Estel to look up, expecting to see the dark shapes of the trees towards which he had been heading, but through the blizzard he could see nothing.

"Adar! Glorfindel!" he shouted but the wind tore at his voice and he could hear no answering shout from either of the elves. He tried to lead the horse, but Mithfaron balked and tossed his head.

"Come on, Mithfaron," Estel urged, pulling on the reins, "we have to keep moving." Mithfaron, however, refused and Estel pulled even harder, feeling desperate, wishing Elrond or Glorfindel was there to help. Suddenly, a gust of wind slammed into him and he lost hold of the reins as he fell backwards. For a sickening second he thought he was floating but then realized that he had fallen off the side of the mountain. The last thing he heard was his own screams as he plummeted into darkness.

****

Cordof-e-dalaf: Chamomile (Athemis nobilis), which is from the Greek meaning "ground apple" because its aroma is reminiscent of apples. It was one of the most popular herbal teas drunk throughout Europe before Oriental tea became available.

Óswanë: (Quenya) Mind-speaking, telepathy.

Laiss en-eregdos: Holly leaves. The holly tree (Ilex aquifolium), also called Mountain Holly, European Holly or English Holly, is found throughout Europe and is one of many plants that herbalists have used to reduce fevers.

Mîdhanor: Literally, "dew of the sun". The sundew plant (Drosera rotundifolia) is an insectivorous perennial found throughout Europe. It has reddish, sticky leaves and small white or pinkish flowers. It is one of many plants that herbalists have used as a cough suppressant.

Tolo, Estel. Lasto na bith nîn. Boe achen hen sogo ar no mae: 'Come, Estel. Listen to my words. You must drink this and be well'. [literally, 'It is necessary for you to drink this and be well']. (All right, so I sort of stole from Peter Jackson, however, I purposely wrote this sentence in Sindarin rather than in English, not to show off my knowledge of Sindarin (yeah right), but to stress the fact that I believe that much of ‘elvish medicine’ has to do with the power of the spoken word of the healer as well as the medicines he or she might use.)

Atheg: Literally, "daddy".

Gwinig: Literally, "little baby"; gwinig nîn: my little baby. 

 These last two Sindarin words are taken from Tolkien’s essay, Eldarinwë Leperi arë Notessi, found in Vinyar Tengwar #48 (December 2005).

Glorfindel’s Quenya lullaby: (Okay, so here I’m showing off, but I figure if Tolkien can give us the "real" version of a well-known nursery rhyme, I can do the same for a well-known lullaby. The following is a literal English translation. Readers are welcome to translate the rest of the lullaby at their pleasure):  

     "Hush, little baby, do not weep,

     daddy will bring you a nightingale.

     If that nightingale won’t sing,

     daddy will bring you a mithril ring.

     If that ring is made of tin,

     daddy..."

The words atto and winicë are the Quenya equivalents of the Sindarin atheg and gwinig, respectively. No doubt Estel referring to Elrond as "atheg" reminded Glorfindel of this ancient lullaby from his own elflinghood.

III: Haven’t Got Time for the Naeg

"Elrond! Over here!" Glorfindel waved at the Lord of Imladris who was searching for Estel further down the mountain.

It was Glorfindel who had realized that Estel had somehow veered away from the path that Elrond had made, easy enough to do, he reflected as he left Asfaloth and the packhorse marking the place while he continued on to find Elrond. The path itself had shifted slightly to the right but in the blinding snow Estel had continued straight and straight led right to a cliff. He had met Elrond coming back, for the elf-lord had also somehow realized that Estel was no longer behind him. The two elves made their way back to the horses, both standing patiently where Glorfindel had left them.

"He went straight instead of turning right," Glorfindel had explained to Elrond, shouting over the storm. "Probably didn’t even realize what he was doing. I just hope he didn’t go as far as the cliff edge."

Elrond looked stricken at the thought but simply nodded. "Can you follow the path he made?"

"Barely. It’s almost covered with snow but I suspect that if he didn’t encounter any obstacles he would just continue in a straight line. The horse would sense the cliff before Estel and would have stopped. Let’s hope Estel had the sense to listen to Mithfaron."

So saying, Glorfindel took the lead but he had not gone very far when he stopped. Motioning to Elrond he shouted, "It’s no good, Elrond. The tracks are completely gone. We’re going to have to wait until this storm passes otherwise we’re as likely to miss him as not."

Elrond chafed at the delay but knew that they had no choice, so he nodded and the two elves sought a nearby stand of pine trees where they huddled under the branches, the three horses standing in front of them acting as a windbreak. Neither spoke, each alone in his thoughts and worries about the youngest member of their party, now lost in the storm. Elrond wondered what he would say to Gilraen if he had to return to Imladris with her son’s body. Glorfindel, on the other hand, was remembering the crossing of the Helcaraxë all those long millennia ago, the bitter cold and the constant snow. It had been a brutal time and many had perished. None who had survived that hell had ever forgotten nor ever forgiven those who had left them behind to brave the Grinding Ice. He feared for the young Dúnadan, and his own body ached in sympathy for the cold the lad must feel, if he was indeed feeling anything.

Moments passed into eternity but slowly, almost imperceptibly, the wind began to die down and the snow fell less heavily. After several more minutes it stopped altogether, though the clouds still hung over them, dark and threatening.

"I’ll go right," Glorfindel said as the two elves stirred themselves. Elrond merely grunted in agreement and headed left, moving further down the mountain, looking for any sign that horse or Man had been this way, but it was Glorfindel who found the first clue.

"He came this way," Glorfindel pointed at a pile of horse droppings, now frozen, as Elrond neared. "He has to be around here somewhere. Estel! Where are you? Estel!" he shouted, his voice reverberating in the cold stillness.

They listened, hearing nothing at first and then, "Do you hear that?" whispered Elrond. "That was a horse’s neigh. It came from over there," he pointed down towards where the mountain had thrust up a wall of rock that blocked their view.

"Stay here," Glorfindel ordered, quite forgetting to whom he was speaking, as he grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows. "I’ll check it out." Then without waiting for Elrond to respond he went downwards to the upthrust of rock, walking lightly upon the newly fallen snow. Elrond watched in frustrated amusement as the captain of his guards moved cautiously towards the sound they had heard, hoping against hope that Estel was there with Mithfaron, assuming that it was Estel’s horse they had heard.

Glorfindel reached the rock wall and moved slowly around, an arrow nocked just in case, then relaxed visibly when he saw the grey gelding patiently standing there with a look that seemed to ask what had taken the elf so long. Glorfindel smiled and spoke softly to the steed as he approached, his palm up for the horse to smell. "So, my Grey Hunter, just where did young Estel get himself to, heh?"

The horse whinnied and took a step forward, almost as if he were pointing towards the cliff edge. Feeling somewhat sick to his stomach Glorfindel made his way past the horse to look down, dreading what he would see, and at first he did not see anything except a small snow-covered valley nestled between two folds of the mountain. Then his elvish eyes noticed a large hump of snow about twenty feet down in among a stand of pine trees, and protruding from the mound of snow he could just make out one leg. The elf closed his eyes briefly, sending a prayer winging to the Valar that the lad was still alive, and, of course, there were no eagles about to bring Estel up, which meant he and Elrond would have to do it themselves. Speaking of Elrond....

Glorfindel moved back around the wall and motioned for Elrond to come down, which the elf-lord did, bringing their horses with him. Without a word Glorfindel led him to the cliff edge and pointed down. Elrond’s only response was a tightening of his lips, but the pain in his fëa was evident in his eyes from the tears that threatened to come.

"We need to get down there and make sure," Elrond said quietly.

Glorfindel nodded and went over to the packhorse and found some rope in one of the bags it carried. "I’ll go down," he said. "I’m lighter than you are and you’ll need to bring us both up."

Elrond started to protest, but stopped when he saw Glorfindel’s expression and knew that he would only be wasting precious time arguing, so as hard as it was to acknowledge what Glorfindel had said was true, he nodded his acceptance and helped his captain to secure one end of the rope about a pinnacle of rock standing not far from the cliff edge. Before Glorfindel could start down, however, Elrond grabbed his bag of medicinals and thrust them into the elf’s hands.

"You may need this," Elrond said quietly, pain lacing through his voice at the thought that it might well be too late for any medicines, but Glorfindel smiled encouragingly.

"He’s alive, Elrond, if injured. Have faith that it is so." Then he slipped the bag’s strap over his shoulder and grabbing the rope, made his way down the face of the cliff.

Estel had not fallen straight down, he noticed, but had managed to fall somewhat away from the cliff so that he had landed where the snow lay thickest, and from the looks of it he must have also hit the outer branches of one of the taller pines, for many of them were broken off and lying about. It’s possible that hitting the branches might have helped to slow the lad’s descent.

Reaching the bottom of the valley, Glorfindel made his way to the mound of snow and feared that Estel might have suffocated if the snow had completely covered him, but to his relief he found that the lad had somehow landed so that his head and shoulders were underneath the trees where the snowfall was much less and it had barely covered his face. Brushing off what snow covered his head, Glorfindel felt for a pulse, but he could not feel anything. Cursing to himself, he opened up Elrond’s bag and rummaged around for the small mirror he knew was in there, used to see if a person was still breathing and, after finding it, placed it under Estel’s nose. At first there was nothing and Glorfindel feared the worst, but then a faint mist of breath clouded the tiny mirror and he breathed his own sigh of relief.

"Hang on, pen neth nîn," he whispered to the unconscious mortal, "we’ll get you out of this soon." Then, moving back out from under the trees he stood up and waved to Elrond. "He’s alive, but unconscious. I’m going to check for injuries and make a travois that we can use to haul him up."

Elrond nodded. "I’ll send down blankets and get a fire started."

Glorfindel went back to Estel and began removing the rest of the snow from his body so he could check for any injuries. There did not appear to be any blood loss, though his body was unnaturally cold to the touch. If Glorfindel hadn’t seen that faint sigh of breath on the mirror he would have sworn the lad was dead. As he continued to examine the body for broken bones Estel moaned and his eyes fluttered open.

Glorfindel stopped and went to him, laying a comforting hand on his forehead. "Estel, it’s Glorfindel. You’re going to be all right. Can you hear me, pen neth?"

"Gl-glorfindel?" Estel’s voice was barely above a whisper but loud enough for the elf to hear. "Wh-what are you doing here? D-did you fall off the mountain, too?"

The relief the elf felt at those words was too much for even him to handle and even while Estel sank back into unconsciousness Glorfindel found himself laughing hysterically at the lad’s words, all the tensions and fears of the last few hours finally taking their toll.

"Glorfindel, what in Elbereth’s name is going on down there?" Elrond shouted from above, the frustration in his voice obvious even from a distance.

Glorfindel forced himself to stop laughing and moved back into the open. "He’s regained consciousness, if only for a moment. Wanted to know if I’d fallen off the mountain too."

"Well, unless you want me to push you off this mountain, hurry it up. He needs warmth and food. What are his injuries?"

"Nothing broken as far as I can tell, but I suspect he’s going to be one large bruise for the next few days. I’m going to start working on the travois now."

Elrond nodded. "Here are the blankets and I’ve included a bottle of miruvor. Give him some of it. It should help."

"Good. I looked for some in your bag but couldn’t find it."

Elrond lowered the blankets and Glorfindel grabbed them, carefully untying them and the small bottle of cut glass that contained the precious miruvor. He took everything over to Estel, who was still unconscious, and wrapped him up with the blankets. Then, carefully lifting the lad’s head, he called out Estel’s name several times until the young Man began to respond then pressed the miruvor to his lips and bade him drink, which he did before slipping back into unconsciousness, though now Glorfindel noticed that color was returning to the lad’s body and his pulse became steadier as the cordial did its work.

Satisfied, Glorfindel began gathering the broken branches and with his knife began trimming them, singing softly as he worked. In short order he had the frame made and as gently as he could he lifted the still unconscious mortal and laid him in the travois, securing him with rope before heading towards the bottom of the cliff, dragging the travois behind him. Once there, he tied it to the rope from which he had descended and when all was secured he yelled up to the waiting Elrond.

"He’s still unconscious, which is to the good, as this is going to be a bumpy ride up for him. He’s as secure as I can make him. Throw me another rope and I will climb up alongside him just in case."

Elrond nodded and shortly thereafter, as the Master of Imladris slowly pulled the travois up the cliff face, Glorfindel climbed up next to it, occasionally putting out a hand to steady it. It was not a long distance, but it seemed to take forever. Luckily, Estel remained unconscious throughout.

Once up on top, the two elves brought the travois over to a fire that Elrond had started, well away from the cliff’s edge, on the other side of the rock wall where it was more sheltered. Glorfindel handed the medicinal bag back to Elrond and the healer made a quick but thorough examination of his foster son and determined that except for a possible sprain in the young Man’s left wrist and some lacerations at the back of his head from when he hit the pine branches, there did not seem to be any major injuries, but he found the continued unconsciousness worrying.

"He may be concussed," Elrond said to Glorfindel. "I would like it better if he had stayed awake. There is the danger of him slipping into a coma if he remains unconscious for too much longer."

"Do you want to try to rouse him, then?" Glorfindel asked as he gently stroked Estel’s forehead.

Elrond shook his head. "I would prefer he awaken naturally, but if he has not stirred in another hour, now that he is more comfortable, I have some gîl-e-geven which should bring him around and then we will see if we can’t get some liquids down him."

"I can make a meat broth if you like."

"Yes, thank you. And boil some tea as well. I know I can certainly use some and it is nearly dark. I little like this place for a camp but I don’t want to move him too much at this stage."

"Well, I’ve camped in worse, and so have you, so I think we can survive one night here. Perhaps tomorrow we can find a better location. I’ll start putting together some broth."

With that Glorfindel went about securing the necessary ingredients for the broth while Elrond ran his hands over Estel, singing softly, sending healing into the battered body of his foster son, even as the sun set and night hastened in. After a while he stopped, adjusting the blankets around Estel’s body and checked the young Man’s pulse again. Satisfied, he stood up to stretch. Glorfindel was busy on the other side of the fire stirring the broth and making the tea. The whinnying of Tologyll off to one side of their camp reminded him that the four horses also needed to be tended to and he stepped away from the fire to speak to the steeds and see to their needs.

It was while Elrond was busy with the horses and Glorfindel was pouring out the tea that Estel stirred, moaning in pain as he came back to consciousness.

"Gl-glorfindel?" Estel moaned.

The golden-haired elf stopped what he was doing and knelt beside Estel, stroking his hair. "I’m right here, Estel. How are you feeling?"

"Hurt," was the one word reply.

"I just bet you do, pen neth," Glorfindel said with a smile in his voice. "Here, drink some of this tea. It’ll help and later I’ll give you some broth."

"Wh-what happened? Is Mi-mithfaron all right?" Estel asked after taking a sip or two of the tea. It had never tasted so wonderful as it did at that moment.

"Oh yes, Mithfaron is just fine and no doubt wondering at his rider’s mental deficiency. I think next time you’ll listen to your horse before stepping off a mountain, neh? He has much more sense than you do, apparently." He kept his voice teasingly light, though the import of his words was serious.

"I-is Adar angry at me?" Estel’s voice was almost plaintive.

"Angry? Elrond?" Glorfindel feigned shock. "Nonsense. Why he’s having the time of his life."

"I am?" Elrond called out softly from where he was brushing down Asfaloth so only Glorfindel could hear, his voice sounding amused.

"He is?" Estel asked, sounding doubtful.

"Oh, yes," Glorfindel answered brightly, quite ignoring Elrond as the elf-lord rejoined them at the fire. "Why I haven’t seen him have this much fun since... well, since the siege of Barad-dûr."

"That much, huh?" Elrond quipped as he sat down next to Estel.

Glorfindel continued ignoring the Lord of Imladris as he helped Estel to drink some more tea. Estel could see Elrond over the rim of his mug smiling at him, then he cast his eyes towards Glorfindel as if wondering if he were the object of some elvish joke between his adar and his friend. As he lay back down, though, a ghost of a smile crossed his face and he motioned for Glorfindel to come closer and, sure that his foster father would have no difficulty hearing him, whispered loudly, "If that’s the case, I think we need to get Adar out more."

Glorfindel threw back his head and laughed and Elrond joined him.

"That’s the spirit, pen neth," Glorfindel said.

"Let me take a look at you, iôn nîn," Elrond said, coming over to check Estel’s condition. He had the young Man follow the movement of his finger and made him sit up, which he was able to do with a little help, complaining of feeling bruised, but the world did not spin and his eyes remained focused, if full of pain.

"Try to have some of this broth, and then I’ll give you something to relieve the pain, though I suspect you’re going to be sore for a while."

Glorfindel handed Elrond a bowl of the broth and a spoon and the elf-lord began to feed Estel, much to that young Man’s disgust. "I can feed myself, Adar," he exclaimed, trying to take the bowl from Elrond’s hands, but Elrond neatly evaded him.

"I’m sure you can, Estel. Just indulge me for a bit."

Estel gave a sigh, then glanced at Glorfindel and said sourly, "Definitely has to get out more."

The two elves merely laughed and Elrond continued feeding his foster son until the bowl was empty. Afterwards, he made a decoction from rîf-e-dathar to help relieve some of the pain in Estel’s body before allowing him to lie down again.

"Will we go on tomorrow?" Estel asked as he found a comfortable position. "Frankly, I don’t want to stay on this mountain any longer than I have to."

"We’ll see how you feel in the morning," Elrond replied, refusing to commit himself, "before deciding if we will go on or remain here for another day or two. I would prefer it if we could at least move further down to the foothills tomorrow. I think it will be warmer in the valleys below and therefore more comfortable, but it will depend on how you are feeling."

Estel sighed, feeling frustrated and somewhat embarrassed by the whole thing, but decided it wasn’t worth arguing about, so he nodded and closed his eyes, letting the medicine do its work, finally drifting off to sleep to the sound of Glorfindel and Elrond singing softly over him.

****

The next morning dawned bright and clear, if cold. When Estel finally awoke the sun was already two-thirds of the way up the sky, climbing towards noon. Glorfindel was nowhere in sight but Elrond was carefully pouring some hot liquid into a small cut-glass bottle. Without looking up from his work, he greeted his foster son.

"Fair morning, iôn nîn, and how are you feeling this morning?"

Estel moved slowly, fearing the pain he had felt the night before, but he felt merely sore, as if he had over-exerted himself on the training field. Stretching experimentally, he yawned. "I could use a hot bath right about now."

Elrond smiled as he placed the enamel pan down and corked the vial, sealing it with a thin coating of wax, before putting it aside to cool next to three other vials already filled. "Baths are out, I’m afraid, but I think we can manage some hot water for washing. Do you need to get up?"

Estel nodded and with a little help from Elrond managed to rise, if a bit unsteadily. His body ached and he limped a bit as circulation slowly returned to his extremities, but otherwise he managed well enough and soon was back beside the fire, sipping on tea laced with honey and munching on some waybread. Meanwhile, Elrond heated water in the largest of their cooking pots and found a sliver of soap scented with lavender and a towel for Estel to use. It was a brief affair and not quite satisfying, but the hot water felt good and he felt marginally better afterwards.

While he was washing he asked after Glorfindel, who still had not appeared.

"Glorfindel is out hunting," Elrond said as he helped Estel off with his tunic so he could wash and Elrond could check his bruises, which looked uglier than they felt. "And scouting for a better campsite further down the mountain. We really need to get down to the foothills. This area is too exposed and the horses are restless. They sense something they don’t like."

"What do you suppose they sense?"

Elrond shrugged. "Goblins, perhaps, or even wargs. It’s hard to tell. Most of the goblins in these mountains were destroyed fifteen years ago during the Battle of Five Armies, but there have been reports of small colonies starting up again. You don’t have any cracked ribs that I can see. How do you feel otherwise?"

"My chest feels tight and I find it hard to draw in a breath. Are you sure I don’t have any broken ribs?"

Elrond shook his head. "I can give you some more willow bark tea to relieve the constriction in your chest. I suspect it’s mostly due to residual pain more than anything else. And I have some mîdhaear oil that you can rub into your extremities. That should soothe any muscle pain you may have as well."

So saying, he went about making another decoction of the willow bark tea and when it was ready bade Estel to drink, giving him also a small jar of oil, then returned to the task he was performing when Estel awoke.

"What are you making, Adar?"

"Hmm. Some medicks from the plants I harvested in the woods below the mountain. It’s best to make these tinctures when the plants are relatively fresh."

"Do you really think we’ll need all of these on this journey?" Estel asked skeptically as he opened the jar and began rubbing the oil into his flesh, its pungent smell permeating the air.

Elrond smiled. "A healer can never have enough medicks, iôn nîn, as well you know. And I prepare these not in anticipation of needing them on our journey, but in anticipation that they may be needed sometime in the future. Better to have a medick that is never used, than to need it and not have any on hand. I’ve learned that rule from bitter experience."

Estel looked thoughtful as he continued sipping his willow bark tea and watched his adar take some leaves of a plant unfamiliar to him and add it and some athelas to the water boiling on the fire, stirring it occasionally. When he had finished the tea, Estel stood up to stretch.

"I’m feeling pretty useless. Isn’t there anything I can do to help?"

Elrond shook his head with a smile. "You might consider apologizing to Mithfaron for acting as idiotic as you did yesterday."

Estel frowned. "You don’t think I’m idiotic, do you?"

Elrond chuckled. "No, iôn nîn, I don’t, but your horse does and he might not be too happy to bear you unless you tell him you’re sorry and won’t do anything that stupid ever again."

"Or at least not for a very long while."

Estel turned to see Glorfindel riding towards them from above. He was carrying his bow and had a buck strapped to Asfaloth’s hind quarters.

"I see you found dinner," Elrond said. "What of the path?"

"Clear and we’re further down the mountain than I first thought. If we can be on our way within the hour we can be off this mountain by sunset."

"Yes!" Estel exclaimed, and then amended his response with a diffident tone. "That is, if you think we should, Adar."

The two elves smiled at one another in amusement at that and Elrond nodded. "I think we can manage. Why don’t you see to the horses while I finish up here and Glorfindel dresses the buck."

With that they all went to their appointed tasks and within the hour they were indeed breaking camp, heading across the face of the mountain towards the path that would take them down into the foothills. They only made one stop to rest the horses and have something to eat before moving on, so that by the time the sun was lowering towards the horizon they had come among the trees and were looking for a place to camp for the night. The path off the mountain joined with a wider road, the Old Forest Road, also known as the Men-i-Naugrim, for it had been often used by the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm. The road crossed the Anduin below the Carrock and wended its way through Mirkwood south of the Emyn-nu-Fuin, to come out at the other end where the River Celduin began turning east to join with the River Carnen above the lands of Dorwinion. Within Mirkwood itself though the road was no longer used, for Khazad-dûm was no more and the Dwarves of the Iron Hills and the Lonely Mountain used other roads for trade. Also, with the coming of the Shadow into the southern reaches of the forest, it had become too dangerous. Not even Thranduil’s elven patrols went that far south anymore.

According to Elrond, though, they would use the road for a bit, turning north before it entered the forest to follow the edge of the woods to Annon-e-Daur, the Forest Gate that marked the western end of the Râd-en-Edhel, the Elf Path.

"We are bound to meet up with one of Thranduil’s patrols," Elrond had said when the three had discussed their route back in Imladris. "In which case, we will have nothing to fear of spiders or other such creatures of the Shadow. But you must be careful not to drink or bathe from any stream that crosses the path, Estel. Thranduil has more than his patrols as safeguards to his kingdom."

But that was still days away. For now they needed to find a place to camp for the night and Glorfindel found a quiet dell just off the road. Looking about Estel could see evidence that this dell had been used in previous times as a campsite, for a fire pit could be seen and someone had even stacked some wood for future use, though from the looks of things it did not seem anyone had used the place for quite some time.

"Probably the last people to use this place were Mithrandir and Bilbo on their way back from Erebor," Glorfindel muttered to Elrond as they set about making camp. Estel had been quiet for most of the trip down the mountain and even now was tending to the horses without his usual chatter. Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Later, after dinner, Estel insisted he was well enough to take the first watch and Elrond agreed. Glorfindel decided to stay up for a while to keep the Man company but Elrond, who had not slept much the night before, decided to turn in early. Glorfindel had agreed to take the second watch, so as to give Elrond more time for sleep, which the elf-lord appreciated, for he had been stinting himself since Estel had become ill.

After a time when Estel and Glorfindel merely sat in companionable silence, Glorfindel finally said, "You’ve been very quiet today, Estel. What’s wrong?"

Estel did not speak immediately, but after a brief sigh, replied with a question of his own. "Do you think I’m incompetent or perhaps just stupid?"

"Neither," the elf said, surprised. "You’re young, even by mortal standards, let alone elven ones, but as for being incompetent or stupid...Why do you even think that?"

Estel sighed again, idly stirring the fire with a stick. "Ever since I’ve been on this journey I’ve done everything wrong. I’m usually not so inept. I mean, this past spring I led the Dúnedain against the Gwathuirim who were harrying the East Road without falling out of my saddle, so to speak, but I’ve done nothing but since coming with you and Adar on this trip."

"Estel—no, Aragorn—what happened to you could have happened to anyone, or at least to any mortal. Mortals get sick."

"But I’ve never been sick in my life!"

Glorfindel merely raised his eyebrows at that.

"Well, almost never," the young Man amended, blushing.

"And almost never doesn’t count, does it?" the elf smiled knowingly. The two were silent for a moment before Glorfindel said, "Look, I know you think you’re being idiotic, but you’re not. Unlucky, if you believe in luck, maybe, but you’re not stupid and you’re not incompetent. You forget who trained you, and I don’t train people to be incompetent. This has merely been a series of misfortunes."

"I don’t think falling off a cliff should be considered a mere misfortune," Estel replied sardonically.

"Oh? And what would you call it?"

"Rank stupidity of the highest order."

"Yes, well perhaps," Glorfindel chuckled, "but I think it was more a consequence of you having been ill earlier. You weren’t thinking straight and you made a bad choice. Had you been in better health you might not have done what you did."

"Or I might have even so."

"I think you’re being too hard on yourself, pen neth," Glorfindel said with a smile. "And if you want an example of rank stupidity you need look no further than your adar over there."

"Adar!" Estel said in surprise, glancing across the fire to where Elrond was lost in dreams. "Adar’s not stupid!"

"Normally not, but he has been known to suffer a lack of judgment now and again, as do we all." Glorfindel stood up and poured more tea into his mug before settling down next to Estel.

"What did Adar do?" Estel finally whispered, not sure he wanted to hear something that would impugn the elf-lord’s reputation.

Glorfindel did not speak at first, sipping on his tea, gathering his thoughts. Finally, he replied, "Elrond was well into his second millennium and had been Gil-galad’s herald for some time when Sauron began to overrun Eriador and besiege Ost-en-Edhil. Gil-galad sent Elrond with an army to the aid of the elves of Eregion and with him was Erestor, who acted as Elrond’s chief scout."

"Erestor?" Estel asked in disbelief.

"Oh yes. You only know him as the irascible administrator of Imladris, but he was one of Gil-galad’s best scouts long before that."

"And were you there, with Adar, I mean?"

"Yes, I was there and wishing I were anywhere else but."

"So what did Adar do that was so, uhm, you know...."

"Stupid?" Glorfindel finished for him with a light laugh. "Well, let me tell you...."

****

"What do you mean we’re lost?"

Glorfindel glared at Gil-galad’s herald as they stood there in the pouring rain, the rest of Elrond’s army standing dejectedly about them, looking as miserable as he felt. "Lost, an adjective, unable to find one’s way, like this army, misplaced, like Gil-galad’s trust in you, no longer in one’s possession, like your mind, unable to act—"

"All right, all right!" Elrond raised his hands in defeat. "Valar! I get your point. What I meant was, how do you know we’re lost?"

"Morgoth’s balls, Elrond! Look around! Do you see anything remotely like the hills we should be looking at according to Erestor’s last missive? No. Instead, what do we have? Mud, and more mud. We’re lost, plain and simple."

"But the map—"

"Maps can be wrong. In fact, it’s been my experience that they very often are. Why did you not follow Erestor’s instructions? What’s the point of having a scout if you’re not going to listen to what he tells you? Honestly, Elrond, Gil-galad didn’t give you Erestor on a whim; he assigned him to you because he’s the best scout you’re ever likely to find. The least you can do is have the courtesy—and the brains—to listen to him!"

Elrond wiped futilely at the rain dripping down into his eyes and glowered back at his second-in-command. More like elfling-minder, he thought to himself sourly, wondering if he shouldn’t just give command of the army over to Glorfindel, who obviously had more experience in such matters than he did.

As if reading his thoughts, Glorfindel shook his head. "Command of this army is yours, Eärendilion. Yours are the decisions, but commanders need to remember that they don’t have all the answers. That’s what advisors are for, and I’m advising you to forget the damn map and listen to what Erestor tells you. He knows this land better than anyone, especially you who have never been east of Lindon before now."

Now Elrond grimaced in embarrassment. Suddenly he felt as if he really were still an elfling being reprimanded by one of his tutors for failing to follow instructions. He sighed and glanced around through the downpour at the ellyn standing about listening with unabashed interest at their argument. "Never argue in front of the troops", he could hear Círdan telling him, and he and Glorfindel were doing just that, though, truth to tell, there wasn’t much point in finding somewhere private to talk because they were out in the open surrounded by swampland, the mud from the incessant rain almost up to their knees.

He looked again at Glorfindel and nodded. "What do you suggest we do?"

"First sensible thing you’ve said all day," Glorfindel snarled, then, relented somewhat. "Why don’t we find somewhere where there’s less mud?"

For the first time in days Elrond actually smiled. "I believe the water is less muddy over there," pointing to a spot three paces to the right where the mud did indeed appear to be only marginally less deep than it was where they were presently standing.

Glorfindel looked to where Elrond was pointing then turned back to his commander with a smile of his own and before long they were both laughing, joined by the warriors surrounding them, but the mood was quickly dampened when thunder rumbled above them and the rain seemed to fall even harder, if that was at all possible.

Raising his fists in frustration, the golden-haired elf yelled, "And will someone turn off this thrice-bedamned rain!"

At once, or so it seemed, the rain did indeed stop, and the clouds, though still purple-black and ominous-looking, began breaking up and a single ray of sunlight struck the place where Glorfindel stood, as if being kissed by Arien herself. The warriors, mostly Sindar and Silvan, stared at the golden-haired Noldo in awe. Even the few Noldor among them suddenly remembered who this elf was and where he had come from and involuntarily stepped back with the rest, Elrond included. Glorfindel, ignoring them all and acting as if commanding the weather was all in a day’s work, grabbed his hair into a single braid and wrung the water out before throwing his head back, placing his hands on his hips and smiling with a radiance that rivaled the sun.

"There. That’s better."

****

"Oh, Valar, oh that hurts," Estel wrapped his arms about him, holding on, trying not to laugh, but failing miserably, the pain in his chest making him dizzy. "You made that up."

"Oh no," Glorfindel grinned. "Every word of it is true."

"Did Adar really get the army lost? I can’t believe that."

"Not only did he get us lost but we were nearly two weeks climbing out of that mudhole he led us into before we were able to find the correct path that Erestor had laid out for us."

"But Adar is so, so self-assured and he always knows what to do."

"Now, but back then he was still a novice in the art of warfare, for all that he had been involved in the War of Wrath, but that was mainly as a healer and he did not lead any troops, though he did fight when necessary. No," Glorfindel shook his head, glancing fondly at Elrond’s body lying in deep sleep, "Your adar had much to learn, as do you. So give yourself credit for perseverance if for nothing else. The rest will come in time."

"Thank you, Glorfindel."

"My pleasure. Now, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll cover the rest of your watch for you. Go on," he shooed the young Man with his hands when Estel hesitated. "I’ve had more rest than either you or Elrond, so I’m fine."

Estel nodded, then found his bedroll and carefully lay down, soon fast asleep.

"Why do you insist on putting yourself in the best light, mellon nîn?" Elrond asked without rising, having waited to ask his question until Estel was fast asleep.

"So you heard that, did you?" Glorfindel smiled. "The answer to your question, mellon nîn, is that I’m practically perfect in every way, so naturally I’m always in the best light."

"I’ll remember that the next time you trip over Elrohir’s foot," Elrond replied with a soft chuckle.

"Go back to sleep, Elrond," Glorfindel said. "I’ll wake you soon enough."

Within a few minutes Glorfindel was the only one awake, listening to the soft night songs of the trees and communing joyously with the stars above.

****

Naeg: Pain.

Fëa: Spirit or soul (though, according to Tolkien, not quite either).

Gîl-e-geven: Star of the Earth; an alternate common name for Bennet (Geum urbanum), a perennial that has been used by herbalists as a restorative.

Rîf e-dathar: Willow bark, from the white willow (Salix alba). Its natural pain-reducing properties has been known for at least two thousand years, and was only recently replaced as a popular remedy by the synthetic aspirin, which contains a similar ingredient found naturally in the bark of this tree.

Mîdhaear: Literally, "dew of the sea", the actual meaning of the Rosemary plant (Rosmarinus officinalis), the oil of which is used as a salve for wounds and bruises.

Gwathuirim: Dunlendings, people of Dunland, literally "shadow-people".

Ellyn: Plural of ellon: Male elf.

Note: The story Glorfindel tells Estel about Elrond was inspired by a scene in Nilmandra's excellent "History Lessons: Second Age", but you'll have to find it.

IV: Orcs Get in Your Eyes

The next morning saw them on their way. Estel’s condition had improved remarkably overnight and Elrond was well pleased with his progress.

"It’s the legacy of the Dúnedain, to heal more quickly than other mortals," Elrond had commented as they gathered up their things and rode away from the campsite.

Their path wound through the foothills, which were covered with thick growths of pine and alder, but thinned as they wended their way down towards the floodplains of the Anduin. By midday they had made good time, and Elrond figured they would reach the open plains by mid-morning of the next day at the latest.

The day had remained fair and pleasant, if cool, and the three of them basked in the late autumn sun as they made their way along the road, yet the horses were restless and that worried Glorfindel, who often found himself looking about as if trying to catch some elusive scent.

"What do you sense?" Elrond asked quietly when they stopped by mutual consent to allow the horses to drink from a small rill, though they themselves did not bother to dismount.

"Nothing specific," answered Glorfindel, looking troubled. "There has been a darkness growing in my mind these last two days but I cannot tell what it might portend. I will feel better when we leave these woods and are out on the open plain. The road is straighter there and we will make better time."

Elrond nodded. "Yes. These woods still speak of the orcs that haunted them not too long ago. Come, let us ride on, but keep your wits about you. It will take us another day to ride out of these foothills. Let us hope we can do so without alerting others to our presence."

Thus, they rode on, keeping a sharp watch, but except for the nervousness of the horses and the uneasy feelings of the two elves, they saw nothing threatening all that day. That night, though, Elrond decided that two should stand watch at the same time, so he and Estel stood the first watch. Glorfindel took over for Estel at midnight and then in the final watch Estel joined Glorfindel while Elrond slept. Of the three, Estel got the most sleep however broken it was, but neither Elrond nor Glorfindel had felt the need for sleep as deeply as the mortal had, who was still recovering from his fall off the cliff.

They set off again shortly after dawn, not wishing to bother much with breakfast, preferring instead to eat while riding so they would be sooner out of the woods and onto the plains. Elrond admitted that he would feel much easier in his mind if they could but reach the open road and both Glorfindel and Estel agreed.

It was probably near the third hour past dawn that their worst fears were realized. The road, which had been fairly open so near the plains, had suddenly narrowed, passing between two small steep-sided hills that marked the opening of the path leading to the High Pass from the floodplains. This forced them to ride single-file. The horses balked at going through the defile, especially Mithfaron, who suddenly reared back in protest, causing Estel to lose his balance, and thereby possibly saving his rider’s life, for Estel had been forced to lean down across the horse’s neck in an attempt to control the horse, just as a black-fletched arrow flew past where his body had been.

"Ambush!" yelled Glorfindel, helping Estel with Mithfaron. "Don’t retreat. Ride for the plains, it’s our only chance."

And ride they did, the screams of orcs echoing eerily through the hills, arrows whizzing past them. The defile was not long, less than a mile, but it seemed forever to the Man as they raced towards the open plains and the river. It was unlikely that the orcs would bother to pursue them too far from the hills, for they were a cowardly race and little cared for the open sky and the sun.

Ahead, Estel could see the road opening up again as it left the foothills altogether, running down towards the meadows that bordered the Anduin some twenty-five leagues away. At the sight of the open plains before them, the horses began gathering speed, which seemed to infuriate the orcs who feared their prey was slipping out of their grasp. With savage yells that were made more hideous by the echoes reverberating through the hills, the goblins began to descend from the hilltops towards the plains in an attempt to cut off their flight. Recognizing their intention, Elrond bared his sword, Gloruilos, of dire fame, from its ruel-bone sheath, and Estel followed suit, but Glorfindel took up his bow and began shooting arrows with deadly accuracy.

They managed to cut through the first wave of orcs and were outracing them, but to Glorfindel’s surprise, looking back, he saw they were still being pursued, even onto the plain and under broad daylight.

"They haven’t given up, Elrond," he shouted to the elf-lord, "and we’re three days from the river. We need to lose them."

Elrond did not stop, but shouted back, "Let us keep on and try to outdistance them. They must follow us on foot and no orc can outrun a horse. If we gain enough ground we may be able to rest for a while before going on. If they continue following us we’ll have to travel by night as well to keep ahead of them."

So saying they urged their steeds to greater speed but even the best of horses cannot run without rest and so after an hour they were forced to slow to a walk to give the horses time to recover. Looking back Estel was not able to see where the orcs were, but Glorfindel, noticing him squinting into the distance, said, "They’re about a league behind us, no more. I doubt we will reach the river before they catch up with us."

"Perhaps," chimed in Elrond, "but we have no choice."

"Why do they pursue us?" Estel asked, perplexed. His experience with orcs, while limited, told him these were acting out of charcter. "Orcs do not travel during the day."

"Say rather that they do not prefer to, but will when driven, as these seem to be," Elrond replied, coming to a halt, causing Glorfindel and Estel to stop as well. "As to why they continue to pursue us...." But he did not finish his words, only glancing briefly at his foster son before turning his gaze on Glorfindel, who said nothing, though both their expressions were grave.

"Adar?"

Elrond shook his head. "I have my suspicions, iôn nîn, but I do not know for certain. Perhaps, if they ever catch up with us, we can ask," and a faint sardonic smile crossed his face, causing Glorfindel to snort and mutter a word Estel didn’t quite catch though he suspected it was not something one would say in polite company. Elrond’s smile merely broadened. "Come, we still have miles yet to go."

Anor was nearly at noon when they stopped to rest again. Looking back along the road, Estel still couldn’t see if the orcs were pursuing them, but Glorfindel muttered an oath that the mortal had only heard used once by the elf and that was under extreme circumstances.

"What is it Glorfindel?" Estel asked. "What do you see?"

But it was Elrond who answered, his voice sounding grimmer than Estel had ever heard it before. "Wargs. The orcs have been joined by wargs. We’ll not be able to outrun them now and we’ve only come less than a third of the distance to the river."

For a long moment no one spoke.

"So, what do we do?" Estel finally asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

Elrond gave his foster son a quick look of approval. "What we can." Glorfindel nodded in agreement and without another word they set off again, urging their horses on, and indeed they needed no such urging for all four horses had caught the scent of warg.

Now it truly was a race, a race Estel knew they had no real hope of winning, but the only other choice was to stand and fight and even he knew that with only the three of them there was no chance of surviving such an attack. At least this way there was a chance, however slim. Within another half hour even Estel could see, and hear, the wargs coming behind them, all of them ridden by orcs. It was a terrifying sight and Estel resolutely turned his gaze forward, silently urging Mithfaron on, though he could feel the gelding beginning to falter. The river, Estel noticed, was still only a fuzzy blue line near the horizon beyond which rose the dark green smudge that marked the edge of Mirkwood, Greenwood of old.

They had gone perhaps another three miles when Mithfaron finally stumbled, though luckily he did not fall. The poor horse was lathered and gasping for breath. Estel was nearly unseated when his horse stumbled and struggled to stay on, for he was reeling with fatigue himself, and only quick action from Glorfindel prevented him from falling off.

"I’m sorry," the Man gasped. "I don’t think either Mithfaron or I can go on without rest."

"Then we make our stand here," Elrond said, bringing Tologyll back to the other side of Mithfaron. "There are some low hills just to the north of the road. Let us wait for the enemy there, for they will have to come uphill to reach us and that may give us some advantage."

Estel looked where Elrond had pointed and saw a group of hills, not much better than hillocks, actually, which rose about a mile from the road. They were the only features in the otherwise flat floodplains and looked to Estel’s untrained eye somewhat unnatural. However, he nodded in agreement and they continued on, but as they drew closer to the hills he could see that they were actually grass-covered mounds, three of them in a row, one behind the other, all of a uniform height, about half as tall again as Lord Elrond and the unnatural feeling grew within him. Suddenly he realized what he was seeing.

"These aren’t hills, Adar," Estel whispered. "They’re graves."

The three of them stopped before the first mound. For a moment no one spoke and a look of great sadness swept over Elrond’s face followed by a brief spasm of pain, as if he remembered something terrible, and even Glorfindel, Estel noticed, looked grim, the light of Valinor dimmed in his eyes as if he too remembered something terrible about this place. Finally, Elrond regained control of himself and looked steadily at his foster son.

"Then, I imagine, this will be an appropriate place to meet our doom."

With that the elf-lord dismounted and the others followed suit, with Estel leading all four horses to a spot behind the second mound where they would hopefully remain hidden from the orcs and wargs. Then he joined the two elves on the top of the first mound, drawing his sword, even as Elrond had drawn his and Glorfindel had readied his bow.

"Now we wait," Glorfindel said quietly and then silence reigned about them as the sun slipped to the west. A slight breeze blew up and with it the rank smell of orc and warg was carried to them and they knew that the enemy was close.

Now even Estel’s mortal eyes could make out the shapes of the wargs running towards them at the point where they had left the road, and he swallowed nervously and tightened the grip on his sword, but otherwise made no other movement, remembering to breathe slowly as he’d been taught. When the wargs and orcs were only a few hundred feet from them Glorfindel began to loose his arrows with deadly accuracy, killing several of the wargs. At first Estel wondered at this for it seemed that there were fewer than fifteen wargs and more than twice that many orcs, but on further reflection he realized that the wargs, as few as they were, were the greater threat.

The death of the wargs did not slow the enemy down, however, and some of the orcs began to spread out on either side of the mounds.

"They mean to surround us," commented Glorfindel calmly as he continued to shoot his arrows. "As soon as I run out of arrows, I’ll move to the other side of the mound and take care of any goblins foolish enough to try to climb it."

"What of the horses?" Estel asked.

Glorfindel shook his head. "They will have to fend for themselves. Tologyll and Asfaloth are battle trained and will protect the other two. We cannot worry about them when we must worry about ourselves first."

"Here they come," Elrond said, shifting his sword to the ready position. Estel followed suit, even as Glorfindel threw down his now useless bow and unsheathed his own sword, Daenagnir, moving to stand behind them.

"Gurth an Glamhoth!" he cried, repeating Tuor’s ancient battle-cry.

The first wave of orcs was now climbing up the mound at a tremendous pace, swifter than Estel thought they could manage and before he could take two more breaths they were upon him, screaming horrendously.

After that there was no time to think, only to react. He vaguely remembered cutting down one orc and then another, but after that it all became a blur, except that it seemed that no sooner had he killed one of the orcs than two more took its place and after a time his sword arm began to tire, though he did not stop.

Elrond and Glorfindel, on the other hand, were less fatigued, and their sword play was more economical and deadlier than Estel’s, for both Elves had had several millennia in which to perfect their techniques and no movement was wasted. Still, in spite of their superior skill, there were too many of the enemy and it was just a matter of time before they were brought down.

Estel did not fear dying, for it was always a possibility whenever he went out on patrol with the Dúnedain and his brothers, but he regretted not having gotten to visit Thranduil’s kingdom and he worried briefly for his mother waiting for him in Imladris. It was this last thought that was nearly his undoing, for he hesitated only for a brief second as his mother’s face flashed before his eyes and he was distracted enough to miss parrying the attack of a particularly large orc slavering before him in bloodlust. Then everything slowed down and he felt a searing pain somewhere below his chest. He vaguely heard his adar calling his name, but could not seem to find the energy to answer. Everything began to turn red and black and he thought he might have collapsed to his knees but it didn’t seem to matter. He no longer even cared about the orc that had been standing in front of him.

As quickly as the world slowed down it began to speed up again and he saw Elrond leap before him and cut down the orc that had skewered him. Then, there was a noise that he couldn’t quite place and Glorfindel was shouting something that made no sense.

"Tiro! iMrýg ar i theryn! Telir an edraith ammen!"

And in the last moments before losing consciousness, Estel, who had fallen so that he was now facing north, beheld a sight he never thought to see. Three huge bears, each nearly as tall as himself at the shoulder, came lumbering across the fields and with them two mighty eagles swooped from the skies, charging into the ranks of the orcs and wargs with a fury that knew no bounds. As Estel felt his sword slip from his fingers and the world turn grey he wondered if he would live long enough to thank the bears and eagles for saving his adar and Glorfindel. Then, he knew no more.

****

It was his adar’s voice that called him out of darkness, though the words made little sense.

"....below the chest but missed the lungs. I do not know why he faltered, though I knew he was quickly tiring."

"He’s alive, that’s all that matters at the moment."

That was Glorfindel and Estel felt oddly pleased that he recognized the elf’s voice, but did not feel strong enough to comment on it. And the pain was horrendous. He must have made a noise or moved or something for suddenly he felt his adar’s hand gently caressing him and the pain grew less though it did not leave entirely. He tried to open his eyes, but the effort was too much, so he simply lay there.

Then another voice that he did not know spoke, deep and growling and even somewhat threatening, though its words were kind. "The wound does not look deep. We can take you to Rhosgobel where he can be better tended."

"A three-day trip," Elrond was saying. "He might not make it."

"Three days by horse," said the other voice, "but not by eagle."

There was a silence as the words sank in and Estel tried to speak, to let them know that traveling by eagle would not be his first choice, but he could not seem to find the strength and besides the gentle caress of his adar’s hand kept him still and content.

"So be it," he heard Elrond say and then darkness took him once again.

****

Cold air woke him a second time and he felt as if he were floating, though he did not seem to be wet. Wind swept past him and a deep thrumming filled his very being. He wondered if he was dead and if his fëa was even now winging its way to Mandos, but then he heard the screaming of eagles and thought that perhaps they were taking a detour to visit Manwë instead, though why the Elder King would be interested in meeting him was something he couldn’t quite understand and anyway, the strain of thinking was too much for him and he fell gratefully back into the darkness.

****

When he woke a third time it was to soft sunlight filtering through a bower of leaves. For a long moment he could not think where he was or how he had gotten there. He tried to remember the events leading up to this moment but his memory failed him. He blinked, attempting to focus more clearly and tried to sit up, but a hand, gentle yet firm, held him down.

"Not yet, youngling," said a strange voice that was nevertheless full of warmth and compassion. "You’ve had a bit of a time lately and I’ve just finished sewing you up. I don’t want you to go and spoil all the good work I’ve done on you." The voice chuckled in quiet humor and Estel finally turned his head to see to whom it belonged.

What he saw surprised him. A Man, or perhaps an Elf, it was hard to tell, dressed in warm brown robes with a garland of dead twigs on his head. Or, on second thought, perhaps it was a bird’s nest; Estel wasn’t quite sure which. There was however a bird, one of the small bluebirds common to the forests of Middle-earth, sitting on the man’s left shoulder and cheekily staring at him and making comments to the Man — or was he an Elf?

"Who...?"

The man smiled. "My name is Radagast."

The name meant nothing to Estel and it must have shown for Radagast quirked an eyebrow at him and gave him a wry smile.

"I see my fame precedes me."

"Sorry—" he said apologetically, feeling somehow uncouth but not knowing why, for he truly had never heard of Radagast.

"Now no need for that. I’m sure Elrond has his reasons..."

"Adar! Where is—" Estel struggled to sit up but the combination of the pain he felt and Radagast’s hand holding him down was too much and he collapsed back onto the bed.

"Whoa! Steady there boy, you’re not fit to sit up yet. If by adar you mean Lord Elrond, he and his companion are still a day’s ride from here, though I must say they made good time from Haudh-en-Nirsaer."

"Haudh-where?"

"Haudh-en-Nirsaer, or at least that’s what the elves of Eryn Lasgalen called it. It happened in the Second Age, long before I came here. Some elves from Lórien were attacked by orcs and were outnumbered. Woodsmen, seeing the attack, came to their rescue but they were too few themselves. None of the Elves or Men survived. When Elves from Eryn Lasgalen found their remains a day later they wept bitterly that they had come too late and built the mounds to commemorate the fallen, hence the name. But enough of history. You will forgive me but I don’t see the family resemblance."

"Huh?" The switch in the topic of conversation threw him.

"You don’t look anything like Elrond or his other children."

"I-I’m Lord Elrond’s foster son. My name is Ar- Estel. Yes, Estel." He knew that his true name had been hidden for a purpose, no sense blabbing it to all and sundry, especially to someone who was a complete stranger to him.

Radagast gave him a shrewd look. "You’re sure about that?"

Estel felt his face reddening, and not from any lingering fever, and nodded.

Radagast stared at Estel for a moment longer, then nodded, as if he had received an answer to an unspoken question. Estel, meanwhile, took the time to look about him.

What he saw was a room that seemed to be made out of living trees, the trunks closely placed in a circle yet he could see that the trunks did not touch one another. At the height of the lowest branches thickly woven curtains of bright hues hung on poles tied to the branches to provide privacy. The roof was a cone-shaped interlacing of the top branches, so thick that Estel doubted that any kind of weather could find its way through. Opposite to where he lay he could see that there was a wider space between two of the trees, providing a doorway that was also curtained for privacy.

"Where am I exactly?"

"Why you’re in Rhosgobel. You’ve surely heard of Rhosgobel even if you’ve never heard of me, haven’t you?" Estel wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected a hint of exasperation in the Man’s voice.

"Oh yes," Estel said brightly, glad that he could finally find something that would please this strange Man, if Man he was. "Adar mentioned it before we left Imladris. I think he meant to stop here before going on to Annon-e-Daur."

"Hmph." Radagast didn’t look too impressed by this and, as if agreeing, the little bluebird on his shoulder gave Estel a rude chirp before flying off into the trees.

After an awkward moment of silence Estel asked, "Uh, not to sound rude, but how did I get here anyway?"

"Eagle."

"Excuse me?"

"Eagle. Or more correctly Thorongil brought you and quite pleased with himself he was I must say."

"Who’s Thorongil?"

"The Eagle who brought you here," Radagast said impatiently, as if Estel were a not very bright student. "Rather young as Eagles go, but quite the warrior already. He insisted on bringing you to me himself. Said it was a matter of honor, although he neglected to say why." Radagast gave Estel another shrewd look, but this time Estel had no idea what he was talking about, so he simply shrugged, which was a mistake because the pain came rushing back, leaving him gasping for breath.

"I think that’s enough talking for now," Radagast said, laying a hand on Estel’s chest. The pain began to ebb away until it was just a dull throb. Estel began to breathe more easily. Radagast poured some water into a goblet and helped him to sit up enough to take a drink. Afterwards he lay back down, suddenly feeling all over tired.

"Sleep now Estel Elrondion," Radagast said gently. "When you awaken, you will find your adar waiting for you."

Estel nodded and closed his eyes. In moments he was asleep. Radagast sat next to the bed watching the young Man’s breathing slow. "Yes, young Estel, sleep," he whispered. "Or should I say ‘sleep, Isildurchil’?"

****

Gloruilos: Gold-(ever)white. Elrond’s sword, originally Turgon’s, was taken out of Gondolin by Idril, his grandmother and given to his father, Eärendil. When Eärendil left on his final voyage, he gave the sword to Elwing for safekeeping. After the sack of Ethir Sirion by Maglor and Maedhros, the sword came to Celeborn, who kept it until he was able to give it to Elrond during the War of Wrath. [The sword of Turgon is never named however I gave it this name based on the description from Unfinished Tales, "Of Tuor and His Coming to Gondolin", note 31, in which Christopher Tolkien gives us his father’s synopsis of the story beyond where it leaves off. Turgon is described as meeting Tuor carrying a "white and gold sword in a ruel-bone (ivory) sheath". The description of its lineage is purely my own invention.]

Tiro! iMrýg ar i theryn! Telir an edraith ammen!: 'Look! Bears and eagles! They come to save us!', literally, 'they come for the saving of us'.

Daenagnir: Shadowsbane. As with Elrond's sword, I have given Glorfindel's sword an appropriate name.

Gurth an Glamhoth!: 'Death to the Din-horde!', Tuor’s curse (UT/39, 54) and battle-cry, and no doubt remembered by Glorfindel.

Haudh-en-Nirsaer: Mound of Bitter Tears, site of an imagined battle in the 2^nd Age, when Sauron was overwhelming Eriador, between Lórien elves, their allies, the Woodsmen, and orcs, in which the elves and Woodsmen were defeated. The elves of Eryn Lasgalen came too late to save them, hence the name. This ancient battle, of course, is my own invention for the purposes of this story.

Isildurchil: Isildur’s Heir.

V: Bad Ithil Rising

Estel awoke to birdsong and the sound of children’s laughter. It took him a few seconds to recognize the bower in which he lay and the events leading up to his being there. Cautiously raising his head he found that he was alone, but even as he was attempting to rise, Elrond stepped through the curtained doorway, followed by Glorfindel and Radagast. Both elves were travel-stained and weary looking, but their eyes lit up with joy at the sight of the youngest member of their party alive if bleary-eyed. Estel noticed that Radagast now wore a chaplet of dead-looking leaves on his head and wasn’t at all sure that it was an improvement over the bird’s nest.

"Adar!"

"Wait, Estel, let me help you," Elrond said as he reached the young Man’s side and gently aided him to sit up. "Let me see how you fare." He began to remove the bandages around Estel’s abdomen.

"I do know a thing or two about healing, Elrond," Radagast said somewhat testily. "Where do you think you Elves learned the art of healing, anyway? You don’t think you just picked it up all by yourselves, do you?"

Elrond looked at the brown-robed being and smiled. "We like to think so."

"Hmph. Yes, well, you didn’t."

Glorfindel laughed and slapped Radagast on the shoulder. "I’m sure that’s true, old friend, but it won’t help. Elrond is too much the healer to take anyone’s word for it, including yours."

Elrond finished removing the bandages and examined the wound. Estel tried to see what it looked like but all he could see was the top of Elrond’s head so he just stared up at the ceiling of leaves, watching the birds flitting in and out of the trees, and waited for the examination to finish.

"The stitching is adequate and there does not seem to be any sign of necrosis around the wound," Elrond grudgingly allowed. "I think you will live, iôn nîn." Elrond looked up with a smile and began to rewind the bandages.

"Of course he will live, you stupid elf!" Radagast shouted. "I don’t allow people to die in my presence if I can possibly help it. Too much bother cleaning up afterwards."

Glorfindel laughed at the exasperated tone of the Wizard’s voice, but Estel just stared at the man with undisguised awe. He never in his life had ever heard anyone, not even Erestor or Glorfindel, speak to Elrond that way. And ‘stupid’ was not an adjective that he ever associated with his adar.

Elrond finished tying the bandages and stood up, still smiling, to face the brown-robed Wizard, but there was a dangerous glitter in his eyes. "That should be ‘Lord Stupid Elf’, my Lord Radagast," he said, his voice cold as the snows on Caradhras.

"Hmph. And I thought Fëanor was impossible to deal with." With that, Radagast turned and stumped out of the bower in high dudgeon.

Glorfindel looked at his friend with mock disapproval. "You shouldn’t antagonize the host, Elrond, especially when he’s a Maia. How many times have I had to tell you that?"

Estel felt his jaw drop in surprise for he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maia? Radagast?

Elrond’s voice became even colder, if that was possible. "I’ve ridden for three days without rest, I am weary as I have not been in centuries and I’m not in the mood to be lectured even by you, mellon nîn."

"Well, if I don’t, who will?" Glorfindel was practically shouting in frustration. "And close your mouth, Estel, you look like a beached limdhaen," he addressed Estel without even looking at him, his attention solely on the elf-lord standing before him.

Estel quickly closed his mouth with a noticeable snap. He was appalled by the scene before him. He knew in the back of his mind that Elrond and Glorfindel often had arguments, but they were civil in nature and if there was any shouting it was done behind closed doors, and apparently late at night when he was asleep, for Estel could not remember a time when either elf had shouted in public. It was almost as if they had completely forgotten he was there.

"Ah, excuse me Adar, but I really need to—" Estel attempted to climb out of the bed but before he could move too far both Elrond and Glorfindel were at his side, their argument apparently forgotten.

"And where do you think you’re going?" Glorfindel asked, then reached down to grab something from underneath the bed. "Here, I think you’ll be using this for a while, if I’m not mistaken."

In his hand was a chamber pot, which he placed on the bed, giving Estel a meaningful stare.

Estel grimaced. "I really don’t—"

"Sorry, iôn nîn," Elrond said sympathetically. "But you’re in no condition to get out of bed as yet. We’ll leave you some privacy and see about getting something for you to eat. Glorfindel."

"Perhaps I should stay and make sure he does stay in bed, Elrond."

Elrond shook his head. "You won’t get out of bed, will you Aragorn?"

Estel sighed, knowing that he dared not disobey his adar in this, especially when Elrond addressed him with his proper name. "No sir, I promise."

Elrond nodded. "Come along Glorfindel, let’s leave the lad to himself. We’ll be back shortly, iôn nîn."

With that the two elves left and Estel was alone, save for the birds twittering in the trees above him. Muttering a curse he grabbed the chamber pot and set about answering the call of nature.

****

Some time later the two elves returned. Glorfindel carried a tray laden with food, while Elrond carried a bowl of steaming water and a towel over his arm. He laid the bowl down on the small table next to the bed and, handing Estel some soap, instructed the young man to wash while Elrond competently dealt with the now full chamber pot. When Estel had finished washing, with some help from Elrond, Glorfindel began serving him some breakfast. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he began eating.

For a while no one spoke. Both elves sat on wooden stools set on either side of the bed, studiously ignoring each other, content to watch their young charge fill his stomach. After a time, though, the silence became almost too much for Estel, and he began to feel self-conscious.

"Don’t either of you have anything better to do than watch me eat?" he finally asked with some exasperation.

The two elves looked at each other briefly before turning their attention to Estel.

"No," they said in unison, both shaking their heads, smiling.

Estel sighed. "Well, too bad, because I’m finished." He pushed the tray away even though the breakfast was only half eaten, having suddenly lost his appetite.

Elrond shook his head. "No, Estel, all of it. You lost a lot of blood and you need to get your strength back up."

"Oh, all right," he said grudgingly picking up a piece of toast, "but I don’t need any minders. Why don’t you go and get some rest? You both look like death warmed over, as Belegond likes to say. I can manage on my own for a while."

Elrond and Glorfindel glanced at each other over Estel’s head, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Am I to presume that we’ve just been dismissed by your foster son, Elrond?" Glorfindel asked nonchalantly.

"No," replied Estel before Elrond could answer, his tone as chilling as possible for someone who was not used to speaking so to those who were his elders. "You’ve been dismissed by the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, who would like to have some privacy."

For a moment there was complete silence. Even the birds seemed to have stopped singing, as if shocked by what they had heard. Certainly Elrond and Glorfindel showed more than just amused surprise at Estel’s words.

Finally, Elrond spoke, his face expressionless. "Then perhaps we should leave you to finish your breakfast in peace, Dúnadan. I’ll ask Radagast to check on you later in case you are in need of anything. Come Glorfindel." Elrond stood up and Glorfindel followed suit, his mouth open in amazement.

"Close your mouth Glorfindel," Estel said mildly, smiling wickedly. "You looked like a beached limdhaen."

Elrond pulled Glorfindel out of the bower before the elf could respond.

****

A little while later, his breakfast finished, Estel was sipping the last of the tea when Radagast entered, now looking amused rather than affronted.

"You seem to have a knack for antagonizing elves, youngling. I’ve never seen Elrond look so... so.... well, words escape me, and that’s not something that happens too often."

Estel looked chagrined. "Do you think he’s really angry at me? I didn’t mean to upset him or Glorfindel, but they were... well, they were getting on my nerves," he ended more fiercely than he had intended.

Radagast chuckled as he stooped to pick up the breakfast tray. "Frankly, it’ll do them both good. I saw the way they hovered over you like a couple of hens with a wayward chick. I’ve spent many yéni in the company of Men, Woodsmen mostly, and I learned early on that they don’t like being treated like children by anyone, be they Eldar or Maiar. Now, why don’t you get some rest yourself?"

Estel nodded and began to lie down, but stopped at a thought. "Radagast."

"Hmm."

"Was it my imagination or did I hear the laughter of children earlier?"

Radagast smiled as he stopped before the doorway. "Oh no, not your imagination. The Woodsmen and some of the Beornings make their home hereabouts. You must have heard their children playing."

"Is this a large town of Men, then?"

"Well, ‘town’ is such a large word for so small a place. Better to say that this is a settlement and leave it at that. King Thranduil actually gave me the land for my own use when I first came to Eryn Lasgalen. For a long time this bower was just about all that had been built, for I lived alone, save for the animals of the forest, but then the Woodsmen and Beornings began to migrate to this place for safety’s sake and so Rhosgobel began to grow. It’s nowhere as large a place as Laketown, or even Dale, but it suits. Now, enough talking. Get some rest, youngling."

Estel smiled. "Yes, sir," he said as Radagast departed. He lay back down and attempted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as he could be with a hole in his abdomen. Within five minutes, though, he was fast asleep.

****

When Estel awoke, the light filtering through the leaves above him was the golden light of late afternoon. No birds sang but someone was softly playing on a harp. Raising his head he saw that it was Elrond, sitting on a bench under the bole of one of the trees that made up the bower. Two yellow finches sat on his shoulders, one on either side, apparently enjoying the music and occasionally making a comment or two.

"Well, if you don’t like my music, little one," Elrond said softly with a smile to the bird on his right shoulder who had just finished giving its opinion, "you’re always free to make your own."

Which is precisely what it did, flying off with its companion into the high branches of the tree. The elf-lord chuckled and Estel found himself laughing as well.

Elrond looked up. "Ah, I see you’ve finally woken." He stood up gracefully and laid the harp carefully on the bench before coming over to the bed. "How do you feel? Any better?"

Estel nodded but in truth he was not feeling very well. His dreams had been disturbing, mostly having to do with his adar for some reason, and he was feeling more pain than he wanted to admit, not wishing to seem overly weak before the elves. Instead, and remembering how they had left each other, he smiled ruefully and said, "Embarrassed."

Elrond raised an eyebrow at that and nodded. "I think we were all suffering from a great deal of stress at the time. I am sorry you had to witness all that. Would you like some water?"

Estel nodded and with some help from Elrond sat up. He watched Elrond fuss about him, getting him water and fluffing the pillows, and some of the images of his dreams came back to him and he shied away from them for they were too terrible to contemplate, but they were too terrible not to. He did not believe his suspicions could be real, yet there was a nagging feeling that perhaps they were. He wished the pain in his chest would go away; it was hard to think straight. Wishing to ward off such dark thoughts he remembered something Glorfindel had said earlier. "About Radagast being a Maia..."

"Ah, yes. Well, that’s Glorfindel’s opinion. In truth, neither Radagast nor the other Ithryn have —"

"The other who?" Estel interrupted.

"Oh, yes, of course. You don’t know." Elrond grabbed one of the stools and brought it near the bed to sit on. "About a thousand years after the Third Age began, five... beings, for lack of a better word, appeared in Mithlond claiming to be emissaries from the West, though they did not specifically say they were Maiar. They called themselves Ithryn — Istari in Quenya — instead. I have only met three of them. Two traveled into the East and South to lands unknown to me and may be there yet. Of the three, one has visited Imladris numerous times, though we always made sure you were out with your brothers when he was there. I felt it prudent to keep any knowledge of your existence from those who were not of Imladris."

"The grey-robed man," Estel said with a nod of his head, taking a sip of the water. It was cool and refreshing and he did not realize he was so thirsty.

Elrond looked at him in surprise. "Yes. We elves and the Dúnedain call him Mithrandir. I was unaware that you even knew he was there the few times he visited Imladris."

Estel smiled. "I think the first time I saw him was when I was about ten and he came accompanied by all those dwarves. You very conveniently arranged for me to go on a camping expedition with my brothers right after they arrived, but I managed to catch a glimpse of them before Elrohir and naneth found me and took me back to my room to pack. It was obvious, even to me, that no one wanted to talk about them in front of me so I kept quiet, but I also kept my eyes open for opportunities to see the grey-robed man again whenever I could, though I was never brave enough to approach him and I’m not sure he even knew I was there."

"Oh, I’m sure he knew just from the fact that it was evident that a child lived in the house, but as I didn’t bring you out to be introduced, he never said a word about it."

"And Radagast? I don’t think I ever saw him in Imladris."

"No. Radagast prefers the woods of Rhovanion and is especially friendly with Thranduil’s elves, although, in truth, he appears to have little to do with either Elves or Men. He seems to prefer the company of the animals of the forest instead. I suspect that he once belonged to the people of Yavanna before coming to Middle-earth."

Estel’s eyebrows rose at that. "So, you think these Ithryn are Maiar, too."

For a long moment Elrond did not answer, then he sighed and nodded. "Yes, I do."

"You don’t sound very happy about it," Estel said with a wry smile.

Elrond chuckled. "Perhaps I’m not, but that is not your concern." He stared at his foster son with a shrewd look that made Estel very uncomfortable.

"There is something upsetting you, Aragorn, more than being fussed over by Glorfindel and me."

Estel stared at his feet, refusing to look at the elf-lord, and for several tense moments did not speak. The thoughts in his head seemed traitorous and he was not sure how to broach the subject, but his suspicions would not leave him. He found himself shaking.

"Estel! What is it, iôn nîn?" Elrond leaned over to caress Estel’s head.

Estel found himself shying away from Elrond’s touch. Finally, barely speaking above a whisper, he asked, "D-do you wish the orcs had killed me?"

"What—?" Elrond leapt to his feet in shock.

Estel made himself look at the person he thought of as his father and swallowed. His words were slow at first but once started he found he could not stop. "It would have solved a lot of problems. In fact, I’m beginning to think this entire trip has been designed for my benefit: the storm, the cliff, the orcs. I could have died in any of these circumstances and you would have been relieved for Arwen’s sake —"

"No!" Elrond’s protest cut through the avalanche of words and the pain that he felt cut through his fëa like a sword stroke. He stared at Estel almost in disbelief and what he saw in his foster son’s eyes was almost too much for him to bear. Without a word, for he feared to say anything right then, he backed away from Estel’s bed and then fled the bower, though anyone seeing him would never have guessed, for he somehow managed to keep his steps to a walk and his entire mien impassive.

Glorfindel, who was in the clearing outside the bower speaking with Radagast, was not fooled, however. Elrond had stopped three paces from the doorway looking whiter than Glorfindel had ever seen him, even during the siege of Barad-dûr when an orc arrow had found its way past his shield, lodging in his side.

"Elrond, what is it?" Glorfindel asked with concern as he approached his friend. "Has something happened to Estel?"

Radagast slipped quietly past the elves and entered the bower.

"Elrond!" Glorfindel repeated the elf-lord’s name, trying to break through the shock.

"M-my s— the Chieftain of the Dúnedain just accused me of trying to get him killed." Elrond’s voice was barely above a whisper and cracked towards the end as he started to collapse.

Glorfindel struggled to hold him up even while trying to come to terms with what he had just heard.

"No, Elrond, you must be mistaken. Why would Estel accuse you of such a thing?"

But Elrond would not respond, so Glorfindel led him away to their own bower and set him down on one of the cots. He could feel anger rising in him at what Estel had done to Elrond, for the elf-lord looked... shattered, was the only word that came to mind.

Glorfindel found a carafe of wine and poured some out and then forced Elrond to drink. Slowly the color returned to Elrond’s face, but his pulse was still irregular and Glorfindel thought he was still deep in shock. Forcing the anger he was feeling back down he began to sing softly, kneading Elrond’s neck in an attempt to bring him some calm. It was several minutes, though, before he felt Elrond’s muscles relax under his ministrations. Finally he encouraged Elrond to lie down and taking advantage of his friend’s weakness sent him into a healing trance.

When he was sure that Elrond was asleep, Glorfindel went out and headed towards Estel’s bower.

"Now let’s see what this is all about."

****

Radagast entered the bower to see Estel sitting up, his hands clenched, his breathing rapid and shallow, looking almost as pale as Elrond. His eyes were shut and tears streamed down his cheeks.

"You know, youngling, when I said you had a knack for antagonizing elves I didn’t mean for you to make a career of it," Radagast said nonchalantly as he stepped towards the bed.

Estel opened his eyes, but they were blank with pain and then Radagast had just enough time to grab the chamber pot and thrust it under the mortal’s chin before he became violently ill.

"Now I know why I like birds better," Radagast muttered sourly to himself.

Estel was suffering the final spasm when Glorfindel stalked into the bower, fury lighting his eyes. "Have you taken leave of your senses, you ungrateful whelp?" he shouted. "How dare you accuse Elrond of trying to kill you! What were you thinking? Were you thinking?"

But Estel was too far gone in pain to answer the elf, if he even knew he was there.

"That’s enough, son of Gondolin!" Radagast admonished as he put the chamber pot down to confront the elf.

Glorfindel paid no attention to the Wizard, his mind focused only on the mortal before him. He came to the other side of the bed and grabbed Estel by the shoulders, shaking him. "Answer me, damn you. What were you thinking? Ányë nanquetë, tyë yondo Valarauco!" he shouted, in his fury resorting to Quenya.

Then Glorfindel heard someone screaming and he knew it wasn’t him. He felt strong hands push him away from Estel and the fury that had consumed him died as he saw the blood spreading from underneath the bandages, not the normal bright red, but dark, almost black, and there was a nauseating smell emanating from it. Estel collapsed back onto the bed unconscious, his skin deathly white, his lips an unhealthy bluish tinge, even as Radagast tore at the bandages. The stitching of the wound had come undone and the blood was pumping out of him at an alarming rate.

"Radagast, what—"

"No time for that, elfling. Make yourself useful and find me some boiling water and more bandages. I’ve got to stop this bleeding."

For a long moment Glorfindel was at a loss what to do, shock freezing both mind and body. Radagast looked up with anger and something else in his eyes. "Laurefindil!"

The sound of his name in the ancient tongue of his youth brought Glorfindel to himself and with a nod he set out to find the water and bandages as Radagast had ordered. It was only a matter of minutes before he returned and saw that the blood seemed to have slowed, but there was so much of it soaking the bed linen, dripping onto the floor. Radagast’s robe was bloody to the elbows.

"Here, Radagast." Glorfindel set the bowl of steaming water on the nightstand and placed the roll of bandages next to it.

Radagast did not look up from his ministrations but nodded. "Good. Now be off with you, the lad is still in danger of dying and I don’t need the distraction."

"But—"

"No!" Radagast shouted. "Out! And make sure Elrond does not interfere." Then seeing the stricken look on the elf’s face, he softened his tone. "There is nothing you can do here, son of Gondolin, but to get in my way. Go now, and pray to the Valar that I am able to bring some good out of this disaster."

With that, Glorfindel fled from the sight of Estel lying in a pool of black blood and dying, even as Radagast struggled to save him.

****

Ithil: Moon.

Limdhaen: Corpse-fish; the narwhal (the name actually means "corpse-whale"), so called because of its corpse-white coloring. It’s probable that these creatures were seen by the elves as they crossed the Helcaraxë and Glorfindel would remember them. 

Yén: an elvish century equal to 144 sun-years.

Yavanna: A Valië, spouse of Aulë. According to UT/"The Istari", Yavanna specifically asked that Aiwendil (Radagast) be included among the Istari. There is some intimation that Radagast’s inclusion in the Heren Istari (Order of Wizards) was forced on Curumo (Curunír/Saruman) by Yavanna, which explains Saruman’s animosity towards Radagast as described by Gandalf at the Council of Elrond.

Ányë nanquetë, tyë yondo Valarauco!: (Quenya) 'Answer me, you son of a Balrog!'

VI: Moon Over Rhosgobel

Glorfindel was sitting on the ground in front of the bench that stood on one side of the bower door, his head on his knees, oblivious to the cold of the late autumn twilight, when Radagast came out. The Wizard held a strip of linen in his left hand. He looked down at the elf who was too sunk in misery to notice Radagast standing next to him, and pity washed over his face.

"Laurefindil," he said quietly.

The sound of his name in Quenya startled the elf, lost in dark memories, and Glorfindel looked up at the Wizard. Silently, Radagast showed him what was in his hand — a splinter of metal barely a finger’s width in length sat in the middle of the piece of linen. Glorfindel stared at it incomprehendingly and looked up at Radagast again in confusion.

"It’s from the knife that the orc used on Estel. Must’ve hit bone and broken off, getting lodged between tissue where it wouldn’t be seen right off. I suspect in your rush to help the lad, you and Elrond failed to notice the missing piece from the knife so never looked for it. No, don’t touch it; it may still be covered with poison."

"Estel?"

"Alive, for now." The Wizard sighed, sitting down on the bench on the other side of Glorfindel. "Where’s Elrond?"

"Asleep. I strengthened the healing trance a while ago. He won’t awaken before tomorrow unless I release him."

Radagast nodded distractedly.

"How—?" Glorfindel began but Radagast cut him off.

"There was more than just the usual poison that orcs use on their weapons. From the smell of the blood, I suspect not only dagnir-e-gaur" — Glorfindel nodded, being well aware of what poisons orcs preferred to use on their weapons — "but eredhras as well."

"Eredhras?"

Radagast nodded, carefully folding the linen around the metal splinter. "A fungus that attacks certain grains. Causes hallucinations and paranoia. A nasty combination meant to assure that the enemy died insane."

Glorfindel shivered at the thought. He stared down at the ground between his knees. Without looking up he began to speak in a low expressionless tone. "I’ve only felt that kind of fury twice in my life."

Radagast wisely remained silent, allowing the ellon to speak when he was ready.

"The first time," Glorfindel finally said, after several minutes of silence between them, "was at... at Alqualondë and Turgon forbade us from interfering. I almost hated my lord at that moment, but I hated Fëanor even more." He closed his eyes, resting his head against the bench for another minute or so of silence. Then, without opening his eyes he spoke again. "The second time was when we lost Elenwë in the Crossing. I don’t think I ever knew what hate really was until then. I think the fury that I felt for the Fëanorians at that moment was the only thing keeping me alive. It burned through my fëa like a torch, consuming me and warming me when everything else around me was a frozen hell. For the first time in my life I wanted to kill something, anything."

For another stretch of time neither spoke. Radagast stared out into the distance, but his thoughts were elsewhere and elsewhen and his eyes were full of sadness.

"I thought I was cured of such evil when I was reembodied," Glorfindel whispered, almost to himself, yet Radagast heard and gave a snort of disbelief.

"Had you remained in Aman, no doubt that would be true, but you chose to return to Middle-earth and with it the possibility of experiencing the marring all over again. Do not be too hard on yourself, son of Gondolin. You were not to know that Estel’s attack on Elrond was poison-induced. I doubt if the lad will even remember what he said in his delirium. And you probably saved his life, though I doubt that was your original intent when you stormed into the bower looking like the wrath of Mandos."

Glorfindel stood up and faced the still seated Wizard in surprise. "What do you mean I saved his life? I was ready to kill him, wanted to, in fact!"

Radagast gave another snort and stood up as well. "I very much doubt that, elfling. You’re too noble, for one, and you love the lad too much for another. No, you were angry but you are no Túrin."

Glorfindel flinched at that but did not contradict the Wizard.

Radagast glanced down at the piece of linen still in his hand. He took Glorfindel’s right hand and placed the cloth into it. "As for your saving Estel’s life," here the Wizard looked into the elf’s eyes, a glint of humor welling from deep within, which somehow comforted Glorfindel, though he could not say how. "Well, let’s just say that without you, er, shaking things up a bit, the stitches wouldn’t have burst and we wouldn’t have seen the corruption inside until it was too late. Though, mind you, I think the lad throwing up just before that helped."

Glorfindel glanced down at the piece of cloth now in his hands and shivered. Valar! It had been so close! He closed his eyes and clutched the cloth in his fist.

"All right, now, enough self-pity. Time to think of repairing some bridges."

Glorfindel opened his eyes and saw that Radagast was glaring at him in his typical fashion and the elf found himself grinning weakly. "Better. Now, go wake Elrond and show him that," he pointed to what Glorfindel held in his hand. "I suspect that will go a long way towards mending the shock."

For a moment Glorfindel just stared at the Wizard, his brown robe black with drying blood. "What about Estel?"

"Don’t worry about him. I’ll have some of my people clean him up, then you and Elrond can see him if you have a mind to, though he’ll be unconscious for some time yet. Now go."

And Glorfindel went.

****

"Elrond, wake up."

Out of the depths of a dreamless sleep Elrond heard Glorfindel’s voice but did not respond. There was an ache somewhere within him that he couldn’t quite identify and he somehow knew that if he woke up entirely he would have to face it. It was not the ache of emptiness where Celebrían had been. That was familiar, almost welcome, even comforting in an odd sort of way. No, this was a different ache, newer, rawer, and therefore not to be trusted.

"Elrond! Lasto na bith nîn, i vellon nîn. Echuio! Tolo ’ni galad."

It was a command he could not refuse, however much he wanted to, for the power behind the words was too insistent to ignore. Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see that it was now nighttime and two candles lit the bower he shared with Glorfindel, casting a soft glow that reflected the starlight glinting through the branches above. Glorfindel, himself, was sitting on the edge of his cot, gently caressing his forehead. He was smiling.

"I see now that Elrohir comes by his reluctance to face the morning honestly. I was seriously considering dumping you out of your bed to get you to wake up."

"And I would have seriously considered consigning you to kitchen duty for the next millennium if you had."

Glorfindel chuckled and moved off the bed. "I have something to show you after you’ve washed the sleep from your eyes."

Elrond sat up, remembering now why he was there. Pain lanced through him, shattering against his fëa, splintering it into many slivers of being. He was not sure he really wanted to get up after all and contemplated retreating into sleep again. He suddenly felt Glorfindel’s hand on his shoulder and looked up to see tears in the other elf’s eyes.

"It’s all right, you know. But there’s a reason why Estel did what he did if you would hear it."

"Tell me."

"After you’ve washed up. I want you wide awake for this. I’ll make some tea in the meantime."

Ten minutes later they were seated at a table sipping tea. Glorfindel had also found some honey and walnut biscuits and had put some on a plate but neither felt the need for sustenance. On the table between them lay the piece of linen still folded up.

"What is that?" Elrond finally asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Open it up very carefully and do not touch what lies within."

Elrond raised an eyebrow at that but complied with Glorfindel’s instructions. In a few seconds he saw the sliver of metal lying within the folds of the cloth. He looked up at Glorfindel questioningly.

"We missed it. That was lodged inside Estel. Radagast thinks that it was smeared with a combination of werewolfsbane and hornseed."

Elrond gasped at the implications of what Glorfindel was telling him and felt the blood drain from his face. Glorfindel grabbed his hands, which he suddenly found were shaking. "Drink some tea. It’ll calm you."

Elrond nodded and complied and soon he could feel the calming effect of the tea taking hold of him and he felt his pulse quieting down. When he felt he had gotten himself under control again, he said, "I want to see him."

"Radagast said he would send someone to let us know when they’ve finished cleaning him up." Glorfindel hesitated for a moment before going on, his eyes on his teacup. "There was a great deal of blood loss, Elrond. It amazes me he even survived the trauma and he had that thing inside him for nearly five days!" He gestured with a nod of his head towards the sliver of metal, looking cold and deadly in the soft candlelight.

Elrond looked at the sliver and frowned. "How ever did you and Radagast find it?"

When Glorfindel did not respond immediately, he looked up to see his friend blushing furiously, his lips tightly pursed as if he struggled with some deep emotion. Elrond stood up and went to him, wrapping his arms about his head and shoulders and held him as great sobs wracked the elf’s body.

"What is it, mellon nîn? What is it you’re not telling me?" whispered Elrond.

In stuttering gasps Glorfindel confessed what he had done or had wanted to do, Elrond was never sure which it was. Most of Glorfindel’s words made little sense, for in his telling he often referred to people and events that Elrond knew lay in Glorfindel’s deep past and had little bearing on events in the present, but one thing he did know....

"Do not torture yourself this way," Elrond said as he brushed Glorfindel’s hair from his forehead. "You had no way of knowing and your anger was justified given the circumstances. You just said Radagast doubts Estel will even remember what happened."

"But we will," Glorfindel sniffed, wiping the tears from his eyes on the sleeve of his tunic.

"Yes, we will," Elrond sighed, releasing Glorfindel from his embrace, "and we must deal with it as best we may."

Elrond was about to sit down again when there was a soft knock at the entrance of the bower. "Come in," he called. The curtain was pushed aside and a middle-aged Woman peeked in.

"Forgive the intrusion, lords, but Radagast says as how you may visit the lad now if’n you wish."

"Thank you, Marfa," Elrond said, "tell Radagast we will be there shortly."

Marfa nodded and left. Elrond looked down at Glorfindel, still looking despondent but calm. "Shall we go?"

Glorfindel nodded and stood up. Moments later they were entering Estel’s bower. Radagast was there, now changed into a fresh robe, sitting beside the bed apparently in deep contemplation, for he did not stir at the entrance of the elves. Elrond moved towards the bed and looked down upon the sleeping form of his foster son. Estel was deathly white, but his breathing was slow and regular, indicating deep sleep rather than unconsciousness.

"He came to for a moment," Radagast said softly, looking up at Elrond. "I gave him something for the pain along with a sleeping draught. He won’t awaken until sometime tomorrow morning."

Elrond nodded, gazing at Estel sleeping. "He thought I wanted him dead," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"That was the poison speaking, Elrond," Radagast responded somewhat sharply. "The boy adores you, anyone can see that. Do not let words spoken in the midst of delirium trouble you overly much. I doubt if Estel will even remember what he said to you."

"But I won’t."

"Perhaps, but only if you choose to. I do not say that trust has not been broken, but ‘broken’ is not the same as ‘severed’." Radagast gazed at the elf-lord with great intensity for a moment and Elrond found he had to look away. "Do you love him?"

Elrond looked back at the Wizard in surprise. "What?"

"A simple enough question, even for you, elfling," Radagast said with a quirk of a smile. "Do you love him?"

"Yes, of course I do, but —"

Radagast shook his head. "There is no ‘of course’ about it, or a ‘but’. You either do, or you do not. It’s really that simple, Elrond, and if you love him, what else matters, heh?" Radagast stood up with a grunt of fatigue. "I will leave you with him. There is some food and drink on the table if you so desire, for I do not think either of you have eaten much this day. Goodnight to you both." With that he gave them a short bow and left.

Glorfindel moved to where Radagast had been and sat down even as Elrond sat on the other stool. For several moments neither spoke, each looking upon the young Man sleeping.

"He’s right, you know," Glorfindel said finally. "We either love him or we don’t." He leaned over and adjusted the blanket and smoothed the hair from Estel’s forehead.

Elrond, however, did not answer but continued gazing upon his foster son, deep in thought.

****

During the night it snowed — though only a dusting — yet it was enough to remind them all that winter would soon be upon them. It was now the sixteenth of Hithui and in seven days the season the elves called Rhîw would begin. Soon it would be time for the Midwinter festivities, though neither Glorfindel nor Elrond was thinking that far ahead. Instead they spent the night beside Estel’s bed, watching over him. Once, near midnight, Estel began moaning in pain and Elrond gave him something for it so that he fell back to sleep without completely waking, but other than that the night passed without incident. While Elrond was tending to Estel, Glorfindel stepped outside the bower for a few moments and when he returned he was carrying his harp. He tuned it to "Starlight on Snow", which gave the harp a gentle, wistful tone and began to play. The music seemed to soothe the young Man and even Elrond began to relax some, the tension in his shoulders easing.

It was dawn before Glorfindel stopped playing, laying the harp aside only when Radagast came in to check on his patient. Both Elrond and Glorfindel took the opportunity at that time to attend to their own needs, changing into fresh clothing and breaking their fast with a light meal of fruit, cheese and bread before returning to Estel’s bower.

"He seems to be holding his own," Radagast commented as the two elves came inside. "Did he awaken at all?"

Elrond shook his head. "He was feeling pain around midnight and I gave him something for it, but he never fully came to. I do not think he will awaken for some time yet."

Radagast nodded, seemingly only half-listening. "No doubt. We will just have to wait and see. In the meantime, try to get some broth down him if you can."

Elrond smiled thinly. "This is not the first time I’ve had someone unconscious under my care, Radagast."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. By the way, if you want to send a message to Thranduil telling him you will be delayed I can have one sent this afternoon."

"Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. I informed Thranduil in my last missive that we would arrive sometime before Yule, but I gave no specific date. He will expect us when he sees us."

Radagast quirked an eyebrow at that and smiled wryly. "Knowing Thranduil, that probably did not sit well with him. He does like to have everything planned to a nicety. Having someone just drop in whenever they get around to it is not his idea of being neighborly."

Elrond smiled back. "That’s because he’s used to dealing with mortals and dwarves and does not care to have them wandering through his forest unless he’s been given plenty of warning."

Radagast nodded. "Yes, that’s Thranduil for you. Well, anyway, I have things to do. I’m sure if anything comes up you can handle it between you."

"How long do you think it’ll be before we can move on?" Glorfindel asked Radagast, but it was Elrond who answered.

"At least two weeks and probably closer to three."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at that but Radagast nodded in agreement. "Sounds about right. I might even say an entire month will pass before you’re ready to move on. Well, in the meantime, the lad’s going to need much care. You both up to it?"

Radagast gave them both a shrewd look. Glorfindel found he could not look at the Wizard but Elrond answered for them both. "Yes. We’re up to it, Radagast. He is after all my son."

Glorfindel glanced up at Elrond, feeling much relieved. Radagast nodded without speaking and left.

Estel woke briefly later that afternoon when Elrond and Glorfindel were attempting to get some broth down him. He smiled when he saw his adar but otherwise said nothing, slipping into sleep once again after only a couple of sips of broth, but it was enough to hearten the two elves. When he woke again it was dark. He tried to sit up but found he was too weak to do more than raise his head slightly. It was enough, though, to alert Elrond and Glorfindel and they were by his side immediately.

"Adar," Estel croaked as he struggled to sit up. "What happened? Why do I feel so weak?"

"What do you remember?"

Estel had to think about it and his words were slow in coming. "I... remember birds singing... and then... I was shouting something, but I don’t remember what." He closed his eyes, feeling drained.

Elrond and Glorfindel shared a look between them and then Elrond spoke. "The knife that wounded you was poisoned, iôn nîn, and you became delirious. Radagast found a sliver of the blade still inside of you. I’m afraid you lost much blood and you will be some time recovering."

Estel nodded, sighing in resignation, then a thought came to him and he opened his eyes again and looked up at Glorfindel. "You called me a son of a balrog."

Glorfindel felt himself turning red in embarrassment. "I’m afraid I was overwrought. I am sorry, Estel."

Estel continued staring at the elf for a few moments before speaking again. "I must have really done something stupid for you to call me that. The last time you called anyone that was when my brothers disobeyed your direct orders and nearly got me killed on our last patrol together."

Before Glorfindel could respond, however, Estel slipped back into sleep. Elrond quirked an eyebrow at his friend, even as he readjusted Estel’s blankets. "And when were you going to tell me about this, mellon nîn?"

Glorfindel sighed. It was going to be a long month.

****

It was nearly another week before Estel recovered sufficiently enough to remain conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. For most of that week he was kept in healing sleep, roused every hour to sip some broth and to attend to personal needs before being sent back to sleep. By the first day of Rhîw Estel had regained enough strength to be able to sit up in bed and eat soft foods, though he did not eat much at any meal and tired easily. Hithui was waning before he was allowed to stand up and use the privy rather than the chamber pot, though both Elrond and Glorfindel had to hold him up. Once Estel was well on the road to recovery, the two elves took turns tending to him and even Radagast occasionally sat by his bed and told him stories of the forest denizens and the Men who lived near-by.

By common consent, neither the elves nor the Wizard spoke of what had happened. Elrond declared that when he deemed the time to be right, he would speak with his foster son about it. Glorfindel looked unsure but Radagast merely nodded. "A wise move. Estel was on the brink of insanity at the time. I would not hold too much credence in what he said."

"And yet, what he said..." Elrond started, then stopped to take a deep breath, letting go of the pain he still felt at the words his foster son had spoken. "What was said cannot be entirely forgotten, and surely deep within him he must wonder."

"Perhaps," conceded Radagast. "Tread carefully Eärendilion. Things are not always as they seem." And they spoke of it between them no more.

During the time that Estel was recuperating it snowed some more, the woodlands and the fields blanketed in a glory of white. Braziers were lit within the bower to ward off the worst of the cold but in spite of the fact that the bower was constructed mainly of living trees it remained surprisingly warm within even without them. Girithron was well underway before Elrond allowed Estel to leave the bower for any length of time, carefully bundled up against the cold. At first, Estel merely sat for a few minutes on the bench by the door, watching with interest the woodsmen’s children building snowforts and engaging in mock battles between the older children and the younger, laughing at their antics. Before another week was out, however, he was helping the younger children plan strategy, much to the amusement of the elves and the bemusement of the children’s parents. Radagast merely hrumphed, shaking his head as he went about his own business, but Glorfindel caught him one day teaching the youngest child, a lad not quite three summers old, how to make snowballs.

One bright morning when the snow sparkled in the sun and the sky was a cloudless icy blue, they had a surprise visitor. Estel was sitting alone in his bower finishing the draught that Elrond insisted he drink every morning and evening to ward off infection and to keep his system in balance during the long convalescence, when Marfa came to the door with a look of awe upon her countenance.

"Lord Estel," she said with a curtsey. "There be someone here to see you if you would be pleased to come out to greet him."

"Who is it, Mistress?" Estel asked politely, wondering why the visitor didn’t just come in.

Marfa’s eyes widened even more. "It’s best you be comin’ out to the yard, my lord." And with that she gave Estel another brief curtsey before leaving.

Intrigued, Estel rose carefully and gathered his cloak about him before following the Woman. Outside, the brightness of the morning blinded him and he had to blink several times before his eyes adjusted to the glare. When he could see properly he saw his adar, Glorfindel and Radagast speaking to the largest eagle he had ever seen. He felt his jaw drop in astonishment. The Eagle was perched on a large rock that stood just before the forest eaves. His feathers were golden-brown shading to black-brown. Golden eyes, keen with grave intelligence, stared at him with interest as Estel approached. The elves and the Wizard made way for him, their expressions unreadable. For a long moment mortal and Eagle merely stared at each other, then, belatedly, Estel remembered to bow, though his wound, while healing, did not allow him to bow very deeply.

"Welcome, my lord Eagle. I am honored by your presence."

For a moment the Eagle did not speak, merely gazing intensely upon the mortal before him. "I greet you Isildur’s Heir. I am Thorongil, kin to Gwaihir, Lord of Eagles. I came to see how you fared, for it was I who brought you hence from the scene of battle."

Estel bowed again. "As you can see, my Lord Thorongil, I am well on the road to recovery. I thank you for agreeing to bring me to Rhosgobel. Had you not, I fear I would not have survived my wounds."

"It is well, then," Thorongil said, dipping his head slightly in dismissal, then he looked at Elrond. "I bear a message for you, Lord Elrond, from Gwaihir."

Elrond started, his expression one of surprise. "Pray tell me what word the Lord of Eagles sends by you."

Thorongil shifted his stance on the rock slightly and lowered his head. "The Lord of Eagles bids you to take better care of this one," cocking his head towards Estel, a glint of amusement in his eye. "He is indeed the Hope of this Age, but he is not the Hope Unlooked-for. That honor is for another. Yet that Hope will never come if this one dies before his time."

With that, the Eagle spread his wings and leapt from the rock, winging his way upward and westward towards the aeries of the Misty Mountains, leaving all feeling bemused. It was only when Elrond noticed Estel shivering that he bade his foster son to return to the bower. Glorfindel made to follow but a slight shake of Elrond’s head showed him that Elrond wished to be alone with Estel.

Once inside, Elrond heated some water for tea before sitting down with Estel who was still shivering, but not, he suspected, from the cold. Estel had not even bothered to remove his cloak and indeed had covered himself with a blanket as well. With some concern Elrond noticed that the color had drained from Estel’s face. "Are you well, iôn nîn?" he asked, feeling Estel’s forehead, which felt clammy, though there was no sign of fever.

Estel glanced at his adar, looking puzzled. "Wh-what did Th-thorongil mean, Adar," he asked, shivering all the while, "about m-my not being the Hope Unlooked-for?"

Elrond shook his head and sighed, rubbing Estel’s arms, trying to warm him. "I do not know, iôn nîn. I named you Estel when you were newly come to Imladris for you are indeed the Hope for your people. I have forseen that Sauron will rise again in your lifetime and it will be for you to defeat him if you will win both crown and queen, though how that might come about, I do not know."

When the water came to a boil Elrond stopped his ministrations and busied himself with making the tea. Soon the two of them were sipping the hot drink and Elrond was pleased to see that Estel had finally stopped shivering and color had returned to his cheeks. Yet, his countenance was still troubled.

"Tell me what you are thinking, Estel," Elrond said gently.

"None of you speak of what happened when I... when I became sick. Glorfindel rarely swears but when he does it’s for a good reason."

"Like when your brothers nearly got you killed during your last patrol together?"

Estel looked up in surprise. "How did you know? We all swore not to tell you."

Now it was Elrond’s turn to look surprised. This was a part of the tale Glorfindel had neglected to tell him while they stood watch over Estel. "Indeed."

Estel blushed in embarrassment. "I guess I said something in my... my delirium, didn’t I?"

Elrond smiled. "You might say that."

Estel sighed, then poured himself some more tea while thinking of what to say next. By now he was feeling warm enough to remove both blanket and cloak, which he did, standing up to lay them on the bed before returning to his seat. "So, do you want to tell me what happened to me?" he finally asked as he picked up his cup and took a sip.

"Do you think you’re ready to hear what I have to say?"

Estel shrugged. "Won’t know that until I’ve heard it, will I?"

Elrond nodded. "Very well. I will tell you...."

****

"Easy now."

That was his adar, though the hand smoothing his forehead was Glorfindel’s. He could hear the golden-haired elf crooning a healing song, but could not place it.

"Drink this, iôn nîn."

A cup was pressed against his lips and reflexively he drank. It was watered wine and he gasped as the liquid slid down his throat, burning as it went and sending him into a coughing fit. When he had himself under control again another cup was placed at his mouth but this was only water and he drank it eagerly, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat.

He wondered if he was blind for he could not see anything and then belatedly realized he had his eyes closed. Slowly he opened them as if afraid of what he might find, but all he saw was his adar sitting before him, a look of concern in his eyes, while he could feel Glorfindel standing behind him, stroking his forehead and singing softly. Radagast sat nearby, his expression unfathomable.

Memory of the last few moments slowly returned and he felt his mind trying to shut down at the horror of what he saw there. He couldn’t possibly have said that to his adar, could he? But apparently he had. Shame flooded him, and something akin to despair. Elrond noticed and sighed, stealing a glance towards Radagast, who grimaced.

"All right, youngling, none of that," the Wizard said, his voice sharp and commanding. "No one here is holding you to blame for what was said in your delirium...but we are curious as to why you said it."

Estel stared at Radagast in shock at the Wizard’s temerity and saw that Elrond was also looking nonplused. Glorfindel had stopped singing and was no longer gently rubbing his forehead, so Estel lifted his head up to see behind him and saw the elf just standing there staring at Radagast in open astonishment. The sight forced a reluctant hiccup of a chuckle out of him and then he was openly laughing, which brought the elves’ attention back to him.

"Sorry, Adar," Estel choked out between spurts of laughter, "but you and Glorfindel looked so funny just now."

Radagast, Elrond noticed, now had a smug smirk on his face and realized what the Wizard had done and found himself smiling in spite of himself. Glorfindel rolled his eyes in exasperation but went back to rubbing Estel’s forehead and singing softly.

"Yes, well, I imagine we did," Elrond said in agreement. "But the question does remain...."

Estel nodded and reached for more water. After a couple of sips he began to speak, but refused to look anyone in the eye. "I think with everything that’s happened to me lately... I was beginning to feel... and then when I came back to Imladris this summer to find Arwen gone—"

Elrond leaned over and gently caressed Estel on his cheek, forcing the young Man to look up. What he saw in his adar’s eyes was enough to nearly unman him and he felt tears beginning to well. "No, hên nîn, the one has nothing to do with the other. I did not send Arwen away. Her daernaneth sent for her and she went, though she had hoped to see you before she did, but you were... delayed, as I understand it" — he looked up briefly at Glorfindel, not quite ready to forgive his friend for not telling him about Estel’s brush with death while on patrol — "and she could not delay her own journey any longer than she did." Elrond straightened with a sigh. "As for what has happened since," here he could not help smiling, "remind me to tell you what happened to your brothers when they went overmountain the first time alone, and they were well over eighty."

Glorfindel tried to smother a laugh at the memory Elrond’s words had evoked, but failed miserably. Estel looked back at the elf in surprise. "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, Estel, you have no idea, and if your brothers ever found out we told you, they’d never forgive either of us."

Estel found himself smiling and there was the glint of mischief in his eyes. "I won’t tell if you don’t."

The two elves exchanged brief glances before Elrond began speaking. "Well, it all started when Elrohir decided that he and Elladan were old enough to cross the Misty Mountains on their own. They wanted to ‘surprise’ their daernaneth and daeradar with a visit...."

As the elf-lord continued to regale his youngest son with the foibles of his older brothers, with Glorfindel laughingly adding his own commentary to the tale now and then, none of them noticed Radagast leaving, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

****

Dagnir-e-gaur: Werewolfsbane. Monkshood (Aconitum napellus), also called (in our world) "wolfsbane"; considered one of the most poisonous plants known.

Eredhras: Hornseed; ergot (Clavicepts purpurea) — a fungus that replaces the seeds of the rye plant (Secale cornatum) among other kinds of grains. It has a nauseous odor and is the source of the hallucigen LSD.

Lasto na bith nîn, i vellon nîn. Echuio! Tolo ’ni galad: 'Listen to my words, my friend. Awake! Come towards the light'.

Rhîw: Winter. In the reckoning of the calendar in Imladris, rhîw or hrivë lasted seventy-two days, ending on 3 Nínui, followed by echuir or coirë (Stirring). Unlike the calendar used by hobbits and Men, the elven New Year began on 28 Gwaeron.

Girithron: December.

Hên nîn: My child.

Daernaneth: Grandmother.

Daeradar: Grandfather.

VII: Into the Taur of No Return

"His wound has healed nicely," commented Radagast to Elrond and Glorfindel a few days later. The three of them were standing in the yard watching Estel playing in the snow with the children of the Woodsmen and Beornings. "I suspect you’ll be wanting to leave soon." There was a wistfulness to Radagast’s tone and Elrond suddenly realized the Wizard had grown fond of them, or at least of Estel, and would be sorry to see them leave.

"I would like to reach Thranduil’s before the next batch of storms hits us," Elrond said, "and I did promise him we would be there before Yule."

"And even though Estel has recovered, he can’t travel swiftly as yet," Glorfindel added. "We’re going to have to take the trip to Annon-e-Daur slowly at first."

"And that’s assuming we don’t run into any more orcs, or even less dangerous situations, like a sudden storm out of Angmar," continued Elrond. "So, it’s best we leave in the next day or so if we want to reach the relative safety of the Forest soon."

Radagast snorted. "‘Relative’ is right, elf-lord. Even the parts of the woods guarded by Thranduil’s patrols are not free of danger for the unwary or the stupid, neither of which I suspect you two are, by the way, but I do hope you take Gwaihir’s advice and keep a closer eye on the lad. As minders, you two leave much to be desired."

Elrond raised an eyebrow at this, and Glorfindel smiled wickedly. "You really need to work on your insults, my lord Wizard," the golden-haired elf said. "You’re obviously out of practice."

Radagast just snorted in amusement and shaking his head, turned to leave. "Let me know what supplies you need and I’ll have them readied for you." The two elves bowed to the Wizard and then continued to watch Estel with the children. After a few moments though, Glorfindel decided that some of the children could benefit from his experience and joined in the fun, much to the delight of the children and the amazement of their parents when they suddenly realized that one of the elf-lords was rolling around in the snow like any child of Men, and apparently not caring how it might look to others. Elrond smiled in amusement, for he had long realized that as old as Glorfindel was and as great a warrior as he was, he would always be an elfling at heart.

Thus it was that two days later, on the seventeenth of Girithron, two of the Eldar and a young Dúnadan left Rhosgobel with the good wishes and blessings of its inhabitants. They headed north along the eaves of the forest towards the Annon-e-Daur, fifty leagues and five to seven days away depending on how quickly and for how long Estel could ride and assuming nothing untoward happened along the way.

"That will leave us another week or so before Yule," Elrond commented as they wended their way northward through the snowfield. "It’s cutting things a bit fine, but there’s no help for it."

"If I hadn’t been so stupid—" Estel started.

"Stupid doesn't begin to cover it, youngling," Glorfindel interrupted with a grin, coming up from behind. "But it’s hardly your fault that we were attacked by orcs. We will come to the Woodland Realm soon enough, so be at ease and just enjoy the fact that we’re not traveling through a blizzard."

"From your lips to the Valar’s ears, mellon nîn," quipped Elrond, who had taken the lead as usual.

That set Estel laughing and then Glorfindel began singing a hymn to Elbereth to which the others soon joined in.

They did not travel far that first day, for Elrond did not wish to overtire Estel. Instead, they stopped and set up camp a couple of hours before sunset and watched the stars come peeping out one by one as the twilight deepened. Menelvagor rode the nightsky in eternal pursuit of the White Stag while his faithful hound raced behind him.

"Do you think Menelvagor will hit the moon tonight, Adar?" Estel asked as he sat on a fallen log watching the two elves prepare the camp, for Elrond had forbidden him to help.

"Not tonight, iôn nîn, for see, the moon has yet to rise and so it is safe from Menelvagor’s arrows." The two of them shared a smile.

Glorfindel stopped stirring the rabbit stew he was preparing to stare at them for a moment. "Someday one of you will have to share the joke."

"One day, perhaps," Elrond agreed, smiling at Glorfindel. "But not today, mellon nîn. Now how is that stew coming along?"

Glorfindel sighed in exasperation but gave in gracefully. "It’s ready whenever you are."

Later, as they were preparing for bed, Estel asked about the watches. Elrond shook his head. "We won’t need to stand watches until we reach the Elf Gate."

Estel looked at Elrond in surprise. "What do you mean?"

It was Glorfindel, though, who answered. "Let’s just say that Radagast has ensured that our journey will be undisturbed, though once we pass into the forest, his protection will cease."

Estel was still unconvinced, but neither elf would explain further and the young mortal was left wondering as he drifted off to sleep to the sound of Glorfindel singing one of the many hymns to Elbereth popular among the elves of Imladris, this one in Quenya.

****

The next day dawned fair, but near noon the sky began to darken and the clouds, once white and frothy, were now grey and threatening. The wind began to pick up and snow fell. Elrond had actually veered away from the forest eaves some two hours earlier and had headed northwest. To Estel’s inquiry as to where they were headed, Elrond merely shook his head and smiled.

"You’ll see soon enough, iôn nîn, but we must press on, for I fear we will not make our destination ere the storm hits."

So Estel curbed his impatience and urged Mithfaron to a swifter gait across the field of snow. The snow was coming down in earnest when Elrond finally stopped and pointed. Through the haze of white Estel spotted what appeared to be a belt of trees, oaks from the looks of them, and between them an impenetrable thorn-hedge. Beyond that, he could see nothing else. He turned towards Elrond, his face full of curiosity and questions. Elrond merely smiled, humor lighting his eyes.

"We have to go north around that hedge to the gate," he said. "Once there, we’ll be out of the worst of this."

So saying, they urged their mounts on and in a short while found themselves facing a high, broad, wooden gate set between two of the largest oaks Estel had ever seen. Through the gloom of the storm he could just make out that the gate was intricately carved with figures of bears and beehives. It was closed, but apparently unbarred, for Elrond simply leaned forward over Tologyll’s head and gently pushed. The gate opened silently and they went through to find a wide track leading south. Glorfindel leapt from Asfaloth’s back to reclose the gate and Elrond signaled Estel to dismount as well.

"Stay here with Glorfindel, Estel, while I see if our host will welcome us." With that, Elrond gave Tologyll soft-spoken instructions before heading down the track.

Estel glanced about him. On either side of the gate were several beehives, though now he knew the bees would be hibernating against the coming winter. Just beyond were what appeared to be gardens, now dormant, though no snow had yet fallen upon them, protected as they were by the oak trees and thorn-hedge surrounding them. Further on, as one looked south towards the other end of the track, Estel could make out a long, low wooden house at one end of an open courtyard and what must be several outbuildings scattered about. Elrond had disappeared into the house.

"Where are we, Glorfindel? Who lives here?" Estel asked quietly, almost afraid to shatter the silence that permeated this strange place. He suddenly noticed that not even the sound of the wind outside the enclosure could be heard, even this near the gate. He gave a slight shiver. Glorfindel noticed and gave him a reassuring smile, but did not answer him, except to say, "Wait and see. Elrond will be out soon."

True to his word, Estel saw his adar stepping out onto the courtyard and motioning them forward. As he and Glorfindel neared, Elrond pointed towards his left to a long narrow building on the edge of the yard. "The stables are over there. There is hot mash waiting for the horses and soup is warming on the fire. It looks as if we were expected. I’ll take your bags and meet you inside."

Glorfindel nodded and with a word led Asfaloth and Tologyll away with Estel reluctantly behind him. It was just as his adar had said. The stable was warm and dry and hot mash awaited the four horses and soon they had been tended to to their and Glorfindel’s satisfaction.

"Let us go see what kind of soup we’re having for the noon meal," Glorfindel said with a grin, slapping Estel on the shoulder and leading him out the door towards the house. As they approached, Estel took the time to examine the structure. The house was U-shaped and consisted of two long wings on either side of the open courtyard. Stepping inside, it took a couple of minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, for the only light was from the open doorway behind them and from the fire burning brightly in the fire pit in the center of the hall. Another door at the other end of the hall was closed. It rather reminded Estel of the Hall of Fire in Imladris. There was a trestle table before them and running along both side walls were raised platforms, possibly for sleeping on, Estel surmised. The fireplace was quite large, about six by eight feet. The hall itself appeared to be some thirty or so feet long but only about twenty feet wide. Everything was made of wood and the beams and posts were richly carved with animal and vegetable forms.

"Well, don’t stand there letting the cold in," said a gravelly voice from further in the hall. "Close the door and come join us."

Glorfindel sighed but complied with the demand, motioning Estel to precede him into the hall. With the door closed, the hall’s dimness was even more apparent, but the fire burning brightly in the center helped. That was where Estel found Elrond and another who looked to be a Man, though not like any Man he had ever seen before. For one thing, this Man was huge and Estel, who was considered one of the tallest of Men, had to look up at his presumed host. He saw a Man of middling years, yet hale and full of vigor. His brown hair and beard were shaggy, almost unkempt, his eyes deep and knowing. His clothing was homespun but well made. Estel had an uncanny feeling looking at this Man that he was in the presence of someone very dangerous, yet not in the way that orcs or other fell creatures were.

The Man stared down at him with some scrutiny but Estel, used to the ways of Elves at least, did not flinch, but stared back, giving a slight bow of greeting. The Man glanced at Elrond standing next to him, then back at Estel before giving a bow of his own.

"Mae govannen, Isildurchil. I am Beorn, Chieftain of the Beornings. I understand you’ve spent some time with my kin in Rhosgobel."

"Mae govannen, Lord Beorn," Estel answered. "Yes, though not nearly long enough to get to know anyone well. We did, however, enjoy great hospitality there among your people."

"That is well," Beorn nodded before turning to Glorfindel. "Mae govannen, Lord Glorfindel. It has been some time I think since last you made your way to my farmstead."

Glorfindel smiled and bowed. "Some years I think. Certainly not since the Battle of Five Armies."

Estel looked at Glorfindel in surprise. "I didn’t think any of the Elves of Imladris were involved in that."

"We weren’t, more’s the pity," Glorfindel said. Elrond rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, though Glorfindel ignored this. "However, around that time I went to Lórien and on my return stopped to visit Beorn here, though by then the war was over."

Estel frowned. "I don’t remember that."

Glorfindel smiled at the young man. "That’s because you were too busy being entertained by your brothers to notice my absence after that camping trip where you ended up contracting poison ivy."

"Oh, yes, now I remember," Estel said with a nod. "No one could ever figure out how I got poison ivy, for I certainly knew by then how to recognize it and avoid it."

"Well, you didn’t avoid it that time. Your naneth was furious and you wouldn’t stop scratching. I think Elrond was about ready to put you in healing sleep and keep you there until you were recovered but ordered your brothers to entertain you to distraction as punishment instead."

"Punishment?" Estel exclaimed, looking at Elrond for explanation. "It wasn’t their fault."

Elrond merely smiled. "But they were responsible for you, iôn nîn, and they were careless in that responsibility. Suffice to say that by the time you were healed all three of you had learned some valuable lessons."

"Well, Lord Elrond, all this talk of family matters is driving me to distraction," Beorn grumbled. "Why don’t we have some lunch instead and you can tell me what you’ve been up to these last few years, heh?" With that, Beorn fiddled with a teakettle hanging over the fire and instructed Estel to cut the bread that was warming on a slab nearby, while Glorfindel ladled out a vegetable stew into wooden bowls. In short order all four men were seated at the trestle table enjoying their lunch.

Elrond spoke of their travels and something of their adventures, though leaving out some of the more embarrassing (for Estel) parts of the tale, and then Beorn and Glorfindel began comparing notes on beekeeping. Listening to the Elf and Man discuss the proper amount of mulch to use for clover and the treatment of the queen bee, Estel was surprised at the breadth of Glorfindel’s knowledge. It never ceased to amaze him how much more Glorfindel knew than simply the best ways to kill orcs. While most of the Elves in Imladris had been fonts of knowledge to the mortal child among them, other than his adar, Estel did not know anyone else who could converse so readily and with such authority about so many diverse subjects, some of them very arcane indeed and no longer remembered among Men.

Before long, though, he found himself nodding over his tea, his interest in bees and honey waning as the afternoon progressed. Elrond must have noticed for he suddenly stood up and leaned over the table towards Estel, placing a solicitous hand on his head.

"I think it’s time for you to rest, Estel. You’re still recovering from your wound."

Estel nodded and Beorn indicated that he could put his bedroll up on the left platform as one faced the back of the hall, suggesting that he put it across from the firepit where it was warmer and away from the table so as not to be disturbed by their conversation. Within minutes, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the quiet sounds of his adar and Glorfindel speaking with Beorn, Estel was fast asleep.

****

He awoke some hours later to find that the other three had apparently barely moved, for they were still seated at the trestle table sipping tea, or in Beorn’s case, a mug of ale. Stretching, he stood up and moved towards the table. Glorfindel looked up with a smile.

"As usual, youngling, you manage to awake in time to eat."

Estel smiled back. "Naneth always said I had impeccable timing."

The two elves laughed and Elrond said, "Yes, just in time to help peel the potatoes I believe," pointing to a small pile of potatoes in a nearby bowl.

Estel sighed then smiled good-naturedly and said to Beorn, "Have you a paring knife?"

Beorn smiled back and gestured towards a sideboard where there were kitchen utensils. "Help yourself, lad."

Soon Estel and Beorn were busy preparing the evening meal while Elrond and Glorfindel continued sipping their tea, having agreed to do the washing up afterwards.

"This storm should blow itself out by morning," Beorn commented as he went about his work, "though you might have trouble with drifts."

"The horses will manage," Elrond said calmly, sipping his tea. "We shall do well if we can reach the Elf Gate in three days, though I suspect it will be closer to four."

"Well, you know your own business best," Beorn remarked. "But you are welcome to remain here as long as you need to."

"Thank you, Beorn," Elrond said. "We appreciate the offer, but we are already behind schedule and we must reach Thranduil’s before Yule." Though why this was so he would not say, nor did Beorn ask.

After dinner they passed a pleasant evening sitting before the firepit with Beorn regaling Estel with tales of the Woodsmen and the Beornings and their relationship with the Elves of Mirkwood and Lórien. Towards midnight, though, Elrond told Estel he should rest and soon the mortal was asleep, leaving the others to talk in quiet tones.

****

When morning dawned Estel woke to find that the elves were already up, if indeed they ever bothered to sleep at all. There was no sign of Beorn. A quick wash and a light breakfast of hot tea with bread and honey and Estel was ready to continue their journey. Stepping out onto the courtyard he saw that Beorn had been seeing to their horses, all three of them standing patiently for their riders, the packhorse just behind them.

"The snow does not seem to be too deep hereabouts," Beorn told them. "I would follow the river as much as possible as the snowfall is less along its banks. Look for a small stream entering the river from the Misty Mountains just past the large eyelet. At that point turn northeast towards the forest and you will eventually see the Gate. The Valar go with you."

They thanked the Chieftain of the Beornings and made their way up the path to the gate and beyond. Beorn followed them to the gate but did not pass through. Elrond veered almost directly west to where a thin blue line marking the course of the river could be seen. The land hereabouts was somewhat rolling though not really hilly but soon Beorn’s farmstead was lost to sight. The day remained calm and clear and it was not long before they reached the river where they stopped for an hour to rest the horses and themselves. Again, Elrond stopped early in the afternoon so they could set up camp for the night, the sun already falling behind the mountains, the east deepening into purple gloom. Estel was glad, for, as easy a ride as it had been, his strength was beginning to flag.

It was only the next day as they continued to follow the Anduin northward that Estel became aware that they were being followed. At first, it was simply a nagging feeling that someone was watching him, yet when he looked about he saw no one but his adar and Glorfindel. The land on either side of the river was flat but not entirely so, and someone could conceivably remain hidden in the folds of the earth. The only thing that kept Estel silent was the fact that neither elf exhibited any sense of worry, yet, try as he might, he could not relax. It was several hours into the morning, though not yet noon, when Glorfindel finally took pity on the Man and came abreast of him.

"Relax, youngling. There is no danger hereabouts."

Estel turned to the elf, unconvinced. "I’ve been feeling watched all morning," he said in a whisper. "Something follows us."

Glorfindel shook his head. "Not something, someone. I think if you look very closely you will see a rather large bear moving off to your right. Beorn must be keeping an eye on us for Radagast."

"Beorn? But how—"

"Really, Estel, I thought we taught you better than that," Glorfindel gently chided him. "After all the trouble your adar and I went to to instill in you a proper education, you forget your history as soon as you can. I fear you suffer from the same malady as most mortals," he concluded sorrowfully, shaking his head in feigned regret. Elrond simply snorted at this, knowing that Glorfindel was only teasing his beloved foster son, even if Estel did not.

Estel felt confused and embarrassed, for he wasn’t sure what Glorfindel was going on about. What history? And what did it have to do with Beorn and bears? Sometimes he wished the elves in his life would just speak in plain simple sentences that even a child could understand instead of delighting in convoluted speech that normally took far too long a time to figure out. Elves might have all of Time to play such word games, but the younger races weren’t so fortunate and he was becoming annoyed, though he knew it would do no good to show it. Growing up with two elven brothers who only laughed at his tantrums when he was a child had taught Estel the futility of showing annoyance to an elf; it only made them more determined to be impossible, as a matter of principle, if for no other reason.

"Give up?" Glorfindel asked diffidently.

Estel gave the elf a jaundiced look. "What? You’re not going to make me sweat and stew over this like you make me do everything else? Getting soft in our old age, are we?"

At that Elrond started laughing and soon Estel and Glorfindel joined in, though Estel had to hold his stomach for the pain it caused.

"I am sorry, Estel," Glorfindel said once he had gotten himself back in control. "I couldn’t resist. Sometimes you take yourself too seriously."

Estel smiled. "Well, someone has to. I am, after all, the Chieftain of the Dúnedain." He did not add "and Isildur’s heir" for he knew better than to speak that title out loud, though both elves knew he was thinking it.

Elrond looked back at that. "But you will always and forever be the youngest member of the family before you are anything else, iôn nîn. You will never be able to escape that, I’m afraid."

"Nor would I want to, Adar," Estel said quietly, becoming serious again. The two elves looked at each other, but their expressions were inscrutable to the mortal.

"Well, to answer your question, Estel," Glorfindel said, "the Beornings appear to have the ability to shapeshift as bears. I suspect the bear that has been trailing us is Beorn himself. He will safeguard our journey to the Gate. And look," — here he pointed towards the mountains. — "I think Gwaihir’s people are also looking out for us."

Estel looked to where Glorfindel was pointing and saw far in the distance two eagles gliding effortlessly along what must have been an updraft. They appeared to be moving northward, staying parallel with their small party.

"Do you think one of them might be Thorongil?" he wondered aloud.

"Of that, iôn nîn, I have no doubt," Elrond responded with a chuckle. The look of expectation on Estel’s face was very clear. Obviously his foster son was hoping for another closer glimpse of the eagle who had flown him to Rhosgobel. However, as the day progressed and the eagles did not seem overly eager to fly any nearer, Estel began to ignore them. Sometime on the third day of their journey from Beorn’s farmstead, the eagles disappeared altogether, as did the bear.

"That’s because we’ve nearly reached the entrance into Mirkwood," Elrond explained when Estel commented on the disappearance of the creatures. "We will soon pass beyond their protection." In fact, they reached the Annon-e-Daur sometime before noon, five days from Rhosgobel.

"We made better time than I had hoped," Elrond said as the three of them stopped for a midday meal before venturing into the forest. "Now listen carefully, iôn nîn," turning to Estel. Elrond’s expression was grave. "There are two powers at work in Mirkwood, Thranduil’s and the Enemy’s. Thranduil holds sway here in the north but not exclusively. There are fell creatures that haunt these woods and we must be ever vigilant. Under no circumstances, Aragorn, are you to leave the path. Whatever happens, never leave the path."

The use of his true name and the tone of his adar’s voice sent a frisson of fear through Estel’s spine. He could not recall a time when his adar had ever spoken to him in this fashion, and in some deep recess of his soul he realized that this was not his beloved adar speaking, but Elrond Eärendilion Peredhel, Lord of Imladris and one-time Herald of Gil-galad, the High King of the Elves in Middle-earth. This was one who, had he wished, could have claimed the High Kingship for himself and his heirs. This was one who had seen three Ages of Middle-earth, a span of time that was nearly incomprehensible to the mortal, and for a brief moment Elrond was revealed to Estel as he truly was — an Elf-lord of great Power and Majesty, with the Light of Stars in his eyes — and the young man felt nothing but awe.

Gathering himself together, Estel straightened, placed his hand over his heart and bowed, "I understand, my lord Elrond."

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel and the golden-haired elf nodded. "And remember, Dúnadan," Glorfindel said, as they began to break camp, "do not drink or bathe in any stream that crosses the path."

The use of his title surprised Estel, but he merely nodded his understanding and soon they passed into the forest and the sunlight faded into deepening gloom. The path was wider than he expected but the trees encroaching upon it and the general gloom made it appear narrower than it was. As usual, Elrond took the lead, while Estel noticed that Glorfindel, as the rearguard, had strung his bow and an arrow was loosely nocked in readiness. He quietly loosened the ties on his own sword, though he doubted he would be of much use. The wound to his stomach was well healed but he was out of shape and even the lightest of exertions left him feeling breathless still.

All that first afternoon the overriding impression of the forest that Estel had was silence. Nowhere did he hear the trill of birdsong, or the rustle of leaves in the wind, not even the whisper of a shadow of movement. It was oppressive and even intimidating and Estel could feel his soul withering. Neither Elrond nor Glorfindel evinced any sense of unease, though neither did they sing. And if they bothered to speak at all (mostly for Estel’s benefit, not theirs) it was in whispers.

Elrond stopped after a few hours, though the general gloom of the forest made it difficult for Estel to determine exactly what the time was. Anor was invisible to them above the canopy of leaves. Estel wondered what it would be like at night with no sight of stars or moon. They would not be lighting any fires either, making for a cold camp. While uncomfortable, it would not be deadly, since the forest appeared to be protecting them from the worst of the winter now raging outside Thranduil’s realm.

Even so, Elrond cautioned Estel to take extra blankets as they set up camp and both he and Glorfindel gave him their cloaks as well. Their meal, such as it was, was taken in silence and at the end of it Glorfindel offered to take the first watch, while Estel would take the middle one. Unbeknown to the Man, however, Elrond and Glorfindel had already decided to each "share" half of Estel’s watch with him. They had no intention of letting the mortal keep watch alone.

At first Estel paid no attention to the fact that once Glorfindel had woken him, the elf did not immediately seek his own bedroll. Knowing that elves did not need as much sleep as Men, he did not at first think twice about it, and in truth, he welcomed the presence of the warrior. The night was thick and cold and having another person awake made it less so. His suspicions were aroused, however, when, halfway through the watch Glorfindel proclaimed somewhat loudly and rather unnecessarily (to Estel’s mind) that he was going to sleep. No sooner did the elf seek his bedroll then Elrond awakened and declared, again rather unnecessarily, that he did not feel the need for any more sleep and would "visit" (his words) with Estel for a while, if Estel didn’t mind. The young Man didn’t know if he should be amused or offended by their obvious tactics. He was certainly touched by their concern for his safety, but wondered if they trusted him anymore. He frowned at that thought. Elrond apparently caught it, in spite of the fact that, for Estel at least, it was nearly pitch dark. There was a sickly glow coming from some of the fungus growing about the trees, but it was barely bright enough to illuminate the area. The elves had no trouble seeing, but Estel could only just make out the dark shapes of trees, and those were the ones that were right next to him.

"What is it, iôn nîn?" he whispered, rearranging one of the cloaks around his foster son when he noticed the young Man was shivering slightly.

"Nothing, Adar," Estel replied. "Just wishing it were a bit brighter. I can barely see my hand in front of me."

"We dare not light a fire this far from Thranduil’s patrols. We would only be attracting the wrong sort of company if we did. The patrols tend not to come this far unless they are escorting people out of the woods."

"How soon do you think a patrol will find us?"

Elrond smiled in the dark. "And what makes you think we won’t be the ones doing the finding?"

Estel chuckled. "With Glorfindel in tow? That’s a joke, right?"

"I heard that." Glorfindel said from his bedroll.

"Go to sleep, Captain," Elrond said with mock sternness, though even in the dark Estel could hear the smile in his adar’s voice.

"Hrmph," was the only sound that came from Glorfindel after that.

"I suspect we’ll meet up with a patrol by the time we reach the Enchanted Stream. Thranduil knows we’re here, so I have no doubt he’s alerted the patrols. They’re probably looking out for us even now."

After that they sat in companionable silence. It was probably just as well that his adar had sat with him, for without the stars to guide him, he could not tell what the time was. Elrond, on the other hand, apparently had no problem knowing how much time had passed, for eventually he told Estel his watch was over and to get some more sleep.

The next few days were pretty much the same. A quick breakfast followed by hours of traveling through the forest, its oppressiveness beginning to wear down even the spirits of the elves. Not being able to leave the path, Estel found, presented him with his own problems, for whenever he needed to relieve himself he had to let the elves travel on ahead to give him some privacy. Elrond and Glorfindel did not have that problem themselves for they casually entered the woods whenever they needed to, but they were disinclined to escort the mortal even a few feet into the woods.

"If we were with the Wood Elves, that would be one thing," Glorfindel said when Estel asked, "for they would have the power to protect you. Your adar and I do not. It is all we can do to protect ourselves from the enchantments of these woods so that we don’t lose the path whenever we leave it. We would not be able to do that for you. The trees, you see, recognize us as elves, though not the elves they know, and so allow us safe passage between them, but you they would not recognize at all, except possibly as an enemy and would deal with you accordingly."

It was a sobering thought.

When, on the second night, Elrond and Glorfindel decided to switch the order of the watch so that Elrond took first watch, Estel had had enough.

"Why don’t you trust me?" he asked point-blank, when his adar claimed he was ready for sleep halfway through Estel’s watch just as Glorfindel woke to keep Estel company. "Have I fallen so low in your esteem that you will no longer let me out of your sight?"

Silence reigned in heavier folds around them, stifling the air even more than it already was. It was Glorfindel who finally spoke, his voice gentle.

"It is not you we don’t trust, Estel. It’s the forest and what lies within. You do not fully comprehend the danger that is all around you. And, Dúnadan or not, Isildur’s Heir or not, you do not have the strength to withstand all the enchantments that lie heavily upon these woods. We do this to protect you, not to insult you."

Estel felt Elrond place his hand on his shoulder and give it squeeze before lying down to sleep. For the rest of his watch, the mortal did not speak, not even when Glorfindel told him his watch was over.

Two days later — if one could call the incessant gloom "day" — they reached the Enchanted Stream, its black waters flowing turgidly across the path. At this juncture the forest opened up a bit on either side of the stream. A ferry lay on the other side from them and the elves had to pull it across with ropes. It was not large enough for all of them and their horses too, so Glorfindel took Estel, Mithfaron and the packhorse across first before coming back for Elrond and their steeds. It was time-consuming and quite tedious and Glorfindel was beginning to feel the strain when he brought the ferry back to the east side of the stream for the final time.

It was while the elves were off-loading the horses that several things happened at once. Both the elves and horses started as if they had heard something, though to Estel all was quiet.

"What is it?" Estel whispered, but then he too heard it.

Horns. High and sweet and coming towards them.

"Quickly, Estel!" shouted Glorfindel, leaping on Asfaloth even as he was speaking. "Mount up."

Only, Estel never had the chance.

Suddenly, through the forest to the right of the path came a crashing and a sound that the mortal could not place, followed once again by the sound of horns. Then out of the forest came a nightmare, actually several, as giant spiders the like of which Estel had never seen, came towards them, heedless of all that was in their path as they attempted to escape from what hunted them.

Estel tried to mount Mithfaron and draw his sword at the same time, but neither action was possible in the few brief seconds that he had before one of the spiders ran into him, its pincers snapping. He vaguely heard Glorfindel yelling and the twang of an arrow as the elf-lord put his bow to good use, downing the attacking spider even as Estel managed to sidestep the monster and run his sword into its belly. The sight of these monsters sickened Estel, but he did his best not to embarrass himself. Mithfaron was having none of it and in a fury was attacking the spiders around him. Estel felt it prudent to move away from the carnage, edging towards the left side of the path, defending himself as he could.

All this time, as the three travelers wielded sword and bow upon the dozen or so spiders facing them, the horns grew louder. Soon a troop of Wood Elves came through the woods into the clearing. The light of their eyes as they hunted the spiders was deadly and terrible, forcing the mortal, who now found himself within their midst, to look away, which was a mistake, because Estel never saw what it was that felled him from behind. The next thing he knew he was being shoved off the path by something large, the force of which caused him to stagger well into the forest so that he lost all sense of direction. He was only brought up short by the simple expedience of ramming his head into a tree that somehow had gotten into his way.

His last thought as darkness took him was the horror of knowing that he had managed to do the one thing his adar and Glorfindel had warned him not to — he had left the path.

****

Taur: Forest.

Menelvagor: "The Swordsman of the Sky"; Orion.

Mae govannen: 'Well met'.

Note on Elrond’s age: At the time of this story, Elrond is 6,465 years old. To give you some perspective: our own recorded history goes back to about 4000 BCE with the rise of Sumer, the oldest known civilization in our world, whose ruins now lie beneath the desert sands of southern Iraq. If Elrond had been born in our Age, he would have already seen about 460 years before the Sumerians ever began building their first city, Uruk (biblical Erech).

Note: The reference to Menelvagor shooting Ithil comes from Misty's wonderful story "Shoot the Moon".

VIII: Elven Roads (Take Me Home)

A/N:If some of the dialogue in this chapter sounds familiar, it’s because it should. I’m afraid I just couldn’t resist.

**** 

When Estel woke, nothing had changed, and everything had changed.

The gloom of the forest had neither deepened nor lightened. Silence reigned as always. He struggled up from the heap he had found himself in, blearily looking about, trying to ascertain his situation.

He was alone.

Whatever had pushed him off the path had not followed him, or at least had decided he wasn’t worth the bother. Either way, he was grateful for small favors. His head hurt in ways he never thought it could and he had trouble focusing. There was a coppery taste in his mouth and he felt generally weak all over.

Using the tree into which he had crashed as a support, he slowly inched his way to his feet, desperately fighting the sick feeling washing over him. At last he was able to stand.

Now for the hard part.

Looking about him he realized he had no idea in which direction the path lay or even how far away it was. The forest was thick with undergrowth and the trees loomed menacingly about him in the gloom.

"A-adar! Glorfindel? Man sâd le? Adar?" Estel shouted, or tried to, for his throat was parched and his water bottle was nowhere in sight. Indeed, he realized with sudden dread, he did not even have his sword with him. Checking the area around the tree where he stood revealed no sword, no water bottle, and no clue as to how to find the path.

He closed his eyes against the pounding in his head and tried to think. He must have caused considerable damage to the undergrowth as he stumbled through the woods. Surely there would be signs of his passage. If so, he could backtrack to the path, and hopefully, to Elrond and Glorfindel.

But a cursory glance about him revealed no twisted leaf, no broken-off branch, no churning of the ground beneath him. It was as if he had simply come down from the trees. There was no sign that he had ever come through here at all.

Despair threatened to engulf him, blacker than the forest surrounding him, and he felt himself beginning to panic. Then training took over and the lessons which Glorfindel and his brothers had been at pains to teach him came to the fore, allowing him to evaluate his situation more calmly and clearly.

The first lesson he had been taught was to stay put if he found himself lost.

"It’s very tempting to want to move," he could hear Elrohir telling him in his mind, as if his elven brother were standing next to him, "but it’s a trap that should be avoided at all cost. Let others find you."

He looked about him and then above. The trees were silent and even threatening, but he had a feeling it would be safer up in their branches than here on the ground. He wished he had some water. Hunger he could ignore, and had on more than one occasion, but thirst was something else entirely. However, unless it rained he was unlikely to find water any time soon. In the meantime, he needed to get up off the ground. He just wished his head would stop hurting long enough for him to figure out how, for the branches of the nearest trees were somewhat higher than he would have liked. Perhaps if he shimmied up the trunk just enough to be able to reach one of the lower branches....

He wrapped his arms around the tree he had been using to keep himself upright, reaching as high as he could before wrapping his legs around the trunk as well and then slowly shimmying up. He did not really have too far to go, but his injuries made the climb that much harder and he was feeling breathless before too long. Eyeing the distance between him and the nearest branch that might hold his weight he reached out to grab it.

"Daro!" came the command from above him and the shock of hearing the voice was enough to loosen his hold and Estel found himself tumbling back down to the ground.

Right behind him came a fleeting figure that landed softly. Picking himself up he found himself staring at the business end of a bow and arrow, competently held by a Wood Elf. Estel raised his hands. The elf, his long hair a light gold, stared at him down the length of his arrow with a dispassionate look that was quite unnerving. Deciding to make the first friendly overture, Estel began to speak.

"Mae govan—"

"Le abdollen," the elf interrupted.

Estel blinked, not sure he had heard correctly. Late? Late for what? "Excuse me?"

The elf lowered his bow slightly, though he kept the arrow nocked. "My adar expected your party a week ago." His voice was soft and slightly accented. Quiet humor glinted from his blue eyes and the shadow of a smile played in the corners of his mouth. Then, lowering the bow even more, he stared at the mortal as if seeing him for the first time.

"You look terrible," the elf finally said in all seriousness.

Estel glanced down at himself, realizing what the elf meant, for his tunic was torn and dirty, his arms covered with scratches, he could feel rivulets of sweat stinging his eyes and he had no doubt his hair could use a good washing. Then he looked up at the elf. In spite of having traveled through the trees, the elf’s clothes were unstained, his long hair neatly in place and Estel had the feeling that sweat would never dare touch him.

The absurdity of it all finally struck him and he started laughing and then crying and he squatted on the ground and hugged himself and didn’t know or care what the Wood Elf thought of him. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and, looking up through his tears, found the elf standing before him with a water bottle in his hand.

"Drink," the elf said with some sympathy and Estel gratefully took the bottle and drank. The clear, cool taste of the water steadied him and when he had had enough he gave the bottle back to the elf with a nod of thanks.

"My name is —"

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Yes, I know," the elf said, squatting down next to him. "I am Legolas."

Thranduil’s son. Interesting.

"How did you find me?"

Legolas gave the mortal a surprised look.

"Sorry. Stupid question." He sighed and closed his eyes, wishing the throbbing of his head would cease.

"Come, we must leave," Legolas said, gracefully standing up and offering Estel a hand, which he accepted gratefully. "Lord Elrond was most upset that you were not there when the battle was over."

"Adar must be very angry at me."

"Angry? Why?"

Estel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I left the path."

Legolas raised an eyebrow at him and a faint smile crossed his face. "I think Lord Elrond is more angry at us than at you, mellon nîn. And Lord Glorfindel was even angrier, if that’s possible."

Estel grinned at the elf. "Knowing Glorfindel, I would say so. Was he cursing in Quenya?"

Legolas shook his head. "I don’t know, but whatever he was saying, it didn’t sound complementary. Come, we will take to the trees and make for my adar’s Stronghold."

"Shouldn’t we let my adar and Glorfindel know you’ve found me?"

"I’ve already asked the trees to tell them. Come."

Estel followed the Woodland prince who walked through the forest with consummate grace, silent and untraceable. Estel did his best to follow suit but knew he could never approach the level of skill that Legolas showed. Even his brothers could not have slipped so quietly through the forest.

"Where are we going?"

"I am taking you to a place where the tree branches are lower. You’ll be able to reach them more easily. I have no intention of being used as a step ladder, you see."

"Afraid to get your hair mussed?" Estel couldn’t help teasing.

Legolas stopped so suddenly Estel almost ran into him and wondered if he’d managed to offend the elven prince.

Legolas stared through the underbrush, listening, then turned to whisper in Estel’s ear. "No nad ennas."

"Man cenig?" Estel whispered back, looking about for signs that something was amiss and feeling naked without a weapon at hand.

"Yngyl."

Estel shuddered.

"They’re sleeping. Let us not disturb them," the elf whispered in explanation. He motioned with his head and together they took a different direction away from the spiders. Some time later Legolas led him before a young beech.

"Here. You should be able to reach the lower branches without trouble. And no, I’m not afraid of mussing my hair. I will stand guard while you climb." With that Legolas took his bow and nocked an arrow, turning his back on Estel, his eyes constantly scanning the forest about him.

It began to dawn on Estel that he was in more danger than he had thought and was suddenly glad that Legolas had found him when he did, but he still wished he had his sword with him. Sighing quietly he reached up to a nearby branch and swung himself up as well as he could. He was not at all graceful about it, but decided it didn’t matter. He had managed to climb to a second, higher branch when he felt, rather than saw, Legolas jump into the tree and join him.

The climb had taken more out of Estel than he would have liked. He leaned against the trunk of the tree, holding on to another branch, and breathed deeply. His head was swimming and he hoped he wouldn’t fall out. Legolas silently handed him his water bottle and Estel nodded his thanks before taking a careful swig. He tried not to be too greedy, for he did not know where they could fill the bottle up and he did not wish to take all of the elf’s water. Legolas must have divined his thoughts.

"Drink what you will," he said softly. "There are plenty of places along the way where we can fill it up."

"Le hannon," Estel said and proceeded to take another sip before handing the bottle back to the elf.

"How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts something fierce and I’m having trouble focusing at times. I may be concussed."

"Your hair is matted with blood. I think you might have opened your scalp, but we will have to wait until we are in a safer location to take a look. I have sent my people to escort Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel to my adar, but they must stick to the path and it will take them longer. We, however, will move among the trees and arrive at the Stronghold the sooner."

"And how is it that the son of Thranduil travels alone?"

Legolas smiled thinly. "Who says I’m alone?"

As if that were the signal, two grey-green shapes slipped silently into sight along two other branches, both higher than the one he and Legolas were on. Estel saw that they were both armed with bows at the ready, looking competent and deadly. Neither spoke.

He turned back to Legolas and made a slight bow. "I stand corrected."

Legolas laughed softly and his two guards smiled. Legolas introduced them, pointing first to the darker of the two, his hair the deep gold of an autumn sun.

"This is Galadhor, and the ugly one over there is Laslaerion."

Laslaerion stuck out his tongue at his prince and Estel had to laugh because, if anything, this elf with light gold hair appeared to be the fairest of the three.

"You are Wood Elves, I am not," Estel commented, frowning slightly. "I do not think I will be able to travel easily or swiftly through the trees."

Legolas shook his head. "You are with me, now. The trees will help you find your way, never fear. We will take it as slow as you need to until you are used to traveling in this fashion. One of us will always be beside you. Come, then, let us go. There is a small clearing a few miles away where we can rest and eat and I will tend to your wounds, though I am not a healer."

"But I am," Estel said with some confidence. "I can tell you what to do."

"Fair enough. Galadhor, you have point."

The dark haired elf grimaced. "Why do I always have point, Legolas? It’s Laslaerion’s turn."

"Nonsense," said the elf in question, sounding affronted. "I took point on our last patrol together."

Galadhor just scowled at him. "Which was three years before the Dagorlad, if I recall correctly."

"And so?" Laslaerion sniffed, clearly unimpressed. "It was still our last patrol together. Why are you complaining?"

Legolas laughed quietly and Estel found himself grinning. "They sound like my brothers," he said.

"Brothers?" asked Legolas.

Estel nodded. "Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond’s sons, are as brothers to me."

"Oh, no, Aragorn," Legolas laughed. "I’ve met the twin sons of Lord Elrond, and these two are definitely worse."

The two elves in question both made a face at their prince and then smiled. Legolas smiled back, the sense of trust and love between the three self-evident. "Bado," he said in quiet command and the two elves melted away.

Legolas held out his hand. "Come, I will lead you."

Estel took the prince’s hand and followed as best he could the instructions of the Wood Elf as to how to walk across a branch and move from tree to tree. He noticed how the trees themselves seemed to move their branches to either aid them or remove obstructions from their path. At first hesitant, and not a little wary, Estel soon began to relax and even enjoy the journey. They traveled in silence save for when Legolas gave him instructions. He saw and heard no sign of the other two elves.

He was not sure how long they took, but before Estel had reached the limit of his strength Legolas led him down into a small clearing through which a freshlet ran. The gloom had begun to deepen and Estel suspected that in the outside world the day was closing and night was at hand.

When they reached the clearing it was to find Galadhor and Laslaerion already there setting up camp. A small but welcome fire was burning gaily and a rich stew was cooking in a pot. Estel sank gratefully before the fire, readily accepting a metal cup filled with water from the freshlet given to him by Laslaerion, who bowed briefly in response to Estel’s quiet thanks.

As Estel waited for the meal to be ready, Legolas spoke to him, "Come, Aragorn, we need to tend to your wounds. Head wounds should not be taken lightly, but there was no way to check on yours when we found you."

"I have boiled some water, Legolas," Galadhor said, standing up to retrieve a small bowl from the fire and placing it beside the prince. Laslaerion brought over some clean linen as well. Legolas nodded his thanks and, dipping a piece of cloth into the water began to clean Estel’s head.

"There is much blood but it has dried. I suspect that you might need stitches."

"How long was it before you found me?"

Legolas shrugged. "A couple of hours, no more. It took some time to sort things out at the ford before we could come after you." He stopped his ministrations for a moment while examining Estel’s head. "Yes, you will definitely need stitches, but it is not a large wound."

"Do you have the necessary supplies here?"

It was Laslaerion who answered, shaking his head. "No, Lord Aragorn, for the three of us travel light. All of the medical supplies we normally carry are with the escort."

"I can bind your head to keep the area clean, but we will have to wait until we reach the Stronghold to tend to you properly."

Estel sighed. "How long?"

Legolas smiled. "If we were not hampered by a mortal, we would be there in a few hours, but as it is, you would slow us down even if you were not injured. I would say we shall be there the day after tomorrow at the earliest."

Estel wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t feel insulted by the elf prince’s words, but on reflection, he realized that the elf had only spoken the truth, at least as he saw it.

"Do you have any athelas or perhaps the rootstock of some salab-en-nestad that can be made into a poultice? If we cannot suture the wound as yet, either of these herbs will help stave off infection and keep the wound clean."

The three elves glanced at each other then Legolas spoke. "Athelas we have none, but the healing herb is common to this forest. How much do you require?"

Estel told him and, with a nod from Legolas, Laslaerion melted into the forest to search for the needed herb. In the meantime, Galadhor boiled more water and when Laslaerion returned Estel gave them instructions as to the proper amount of the rootstock to use and when to take the pulp off the fire. Once the poultice had cooled enough, Legolas carefully applied it to the wound, eliciting a hiss from Estel, though he made no other complaint.

"Now place some gauze on it and then wrap it so it will stay," instructed Estel and Legolas complied. Soon, it was done and while Estel felt ridiculous with a cloth wrapped around his head, he knew it was preferable to the alternative.

When it was all over and Galadhor was placing the leftover poultice into a small pot to carry for future use, Legolas handed Estel some water. "You are quite good," he said.

Estel looked up with a frown, "For a mortal, you mean?"

The elven prince looked at said mortal in surprise, then knelt down to face him. "For anyone, mellon nîn. Elrond of Imladris taught you well. I have something for you. Your adar said you would want it."

Legolas nodded to Laslaerion who came forward with something wrapped in a blanket. He handed it to Estel with a short bow. Inside the folds of the blanket lay his sword. Estel’s eyes brightened with delight and relief. Now he was properly armed.

"It was found near the edge of the path," Legolas said as Estel examined the blade before putting it in its scabbard. "Lord Elrond was beside himself when he found it. It was all I could do to convince him to let me find you, for he was ready to head into the woods on his own."

Estel nodded. "Adar will not rest until he sees me again."

Laslaerion looked at the Man with some confusion. "Lord Elrond is your adar?"

"The adar of my heart," explained Estel. "He took me and my naneth in and fostered me as if I were his own son after my adar died in an orc ambush."

The three elves grimaced in sympathy at that but made no other comment.

Then Estel smiled at a thought. "Adar will be very upset to see me so injured. He does not like treating family members. Says the thought of doing so turns his hair several shades of grey."

"But Lord Elrond is an elf," exclaimed Galadhor, sounding perplexed and not understanding the joke. "How can his hair turn grey as if he were a mortal?"

Legolas chuckled. "Lord Elrond does indeed have mortal blood in him, Galadhor, but he has chosen the life of the Eldar. I think Aragorn is merely saying that his adar hates the idea of having to treat those he loves."

"Everyone calls me Estel, Prince Legolas," Estel said.

Legolas raised an eyebrow at that. "Even the Dúnedain Rangers?"

Estel blushed at that. "Well, no, they call me Lord Aragorn, or just Aragorn, depending on how old they are and how closely related they are to me. I suppose I should have said that all the elves I know call me Estel."

"Why Estel?"

"It was the name Elrond gave me when I came to Imladris as a child. It was meant to hide me from the Enemy."

"And now it is used to remind you that you are still a child in their eyes, isn’t it?" Legolas asked shrewdly. Estel shrugged, his face turning red in embarrassment. He kept his eyes on the ground and so did not see the flash of amusement that passed between the three elves, the youngest of whom had been an elfling of thirty-five when Estel’s ancestors lost the kingdom of Arthedain to the Witch-king of Angmar.

Legolas leaned over to place a hand on Estel’s arm. Estel looked up to see an expression of compassion on the elf’s face. "I think I will continue to call you Aragorn, if that is all right with you."

Estel could only nod his acceptance and gratitude, too overwhelmed by the elf’s understanding to say anything.

Legolas smiled. "And I think we can dispense with 'prince' if you don’t mind. My name is Legolas."

Estel nodded again and smiled back.

Galadhor glanced over at the fire. "I think the stew is ready," he said and in a few minutes they were all enjoying a hot meal, the first meal of any sort for Estel in close to a day. Afterwards, they sat around the fire sipping cups of wine, though Legolas made sure Estel’s share was mostly water.

The elves told Estel about the battle and how they had finally convinced Elrond to continue on to the Woodland Realm while Legolas and his guards went in search of the Dúnadan.

"In fact, Lord Aragorn, we would have found you sooner," Galadhor added, attempting to sound repentent, "but Legolas kept missing the more obvious clues as to your whereabouts."

Legolas choked on his wine. "I never!" he protested. "The trees knew just where Aragorn was and they told me."

"Hmph, that’s what all these woodland princes say," Laslaerion declared with a sniff.

Estel found himself grinning. "I see what you mean, Legolas. They are definitely worse than my brothers."

"I get no respect from either of them," Legolas said with an exaggerated sigh.

"That’s because we both have had the dubious honor of having to change you when you were an elfling, my prince," laughed Galadhor. "It’s hard to respect someone you remember running around naked in the front courtyard where all the realm could see him."

"And singing at the top of his lungs some silly nursery song or other," added Laslaerion.

"Well, at least everyone was entertained," Legolas said with exaggerated dignity.

"And in more ways than one, I imagine," Estel could not help saying with a grin, trying to see this self-possessed prince as a naked elfling.

Legolas blushed and the other two elves laughed even harder.

"I know you wish to rejoin Lord Elrond, Aragorn," Legolas said once everyone had calmed down. "but we will make better time if we simply continue as we have. We are actually closer to my adar than we are to the yours right now and I do not like the look of your head wound. It needs stitching."

Estel nodded. "You are correct, Legolas. This wound should not be left untended for too long." He paused for a moment, suddenly shy. "And traveling through the trees is a new experience for me, one that I look forward to repeating on the morrow."

This seemed to please the Wood Elves very much. Legolas then suggested that Aragorn should try to get some rest, assuring the mortal that he was safe within the glade. In a little bit the Man was fast asleep while the three elves sang softly into the night.

****

When Estel woke the next morning he found the three elves in quiet conversation as they went about the business of breaking camp. Legolas and Galadhor were tending to the fire while Laslaerion sat in one of the trees, his bow at the ready, obviously on guard. They were not speaking Sindarin, so Estel assumed they were speaking a Silvan tongue unknown to him. In Imladris there were only Noldor and Sindar, for few of the Silvan elves had bothered to cross the Misty Mountains in the distant past and those few had been absorbed into the mixed Noldorin and Sindarin cultures of Imladris, Eregion and Lindon during the course of an Age. Legolas noticed the Man waking and smiled, switching to Sindarin in greeting.

"We were wondering if you would ever waken, Aragorn," Legolas said, handing him a bowl of left over stew and a spoon.

"How late is it?" Estel asked as he began eating. "I fear I cannot tell the passing of time within these woods."

Legolas nodded as he sat beside the mortal. "It is the second hour past dawn. We will leave as soon as you have finished breaking your fast and seeing to any personal needs, but you need not hurry. There is a chance of rain later today, so we will go as far as we can before seeking shelter. Normally we would not stop even for rain unless it happens to be a fierce storm, but you would not be able to travel easily in the wet however mild the rainfall may be."

"I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience to you all," Estel said. "We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t left the path."

"Nonsense, youngling," Galadhor said, handing Estel some hot tea. "Getting the chance to show off our skills to a mortal is worth the inconvenience."

Estel stared at the Wood Elf in astonishment, not sure how to take such words, then, glancing at Legolas, he noticed how the prince was trying hard not to laugh. He looked back at Galadhor with a slow grin. "How inconvenient would you like me to make it in order that you may show off your skills even more?"

Laslaerion laughed uproariously, nearly falling out of the tree. "Elbereth, Legolas, can we keep him?"

"I will have to ask Adar. You know what he thinks about me bringing home…pets." Here he winked at Estel, and at the sound of the other two elves’ laughter realized that this might be a longstanding joke between them.

After breakfast, Legolas insisted on checking Estel’s head wound. There was no sign of infection according to the elf and he replaced the now dried-up poultice with a fresh amount before rebinding the wound. Soon after they were off and Estel was pleased that he had remembered the instructions Legolas had given him the day before and the elven prince nodded in approval. The rest of the morning was spent in moving from tree to tree, taking a rest now and then, especially when Legolas noticed Estel’s stamina flagging. Towards noon the gloom darkened and the four of them found shelter in the arms of a large oak. It was not a strong storm, but it was enough of one to make them miserable. They spent the time trading stories of hunting orcs and the trials and tribulations of being on patrol for weeks on end.

After about an hour the rain let up and they decided to move on. There was another glade towards which the elves were heading and it was there they planned to spend the night.

"We will be at the front gates of the Woodland Realm by tomorrow evening, mellon nîn," Legolas told him when they finally reached their goal for the night. "How are you holding up?"

"Well enough," Estel replied. "I have not been seeing double all day, but my head is throbbing and I wish to do nothing more than sleep."

"A good hot meal will help, I think," the Woodland prince commented.

In spite of the rain earlier, the glade proved to be quite dry though the air was more chill and damper than it had been the night before. Soon the four of them were relaxing next to a small fire, but by the time they were finished with dinner, Estel was nearly asleep.

"Rest now," Legolas told his new friend. "Tomorrow will see us home and you will see your adar soon after, for they are no more than two days behind us, I deem."

Estel nodded and was asleep in minutes, never feeling Legolas placing another blanket over him against the chill of the night.

****

The last day of travel proved as uneventful as the previous one, for which Estel was grateful. He felt less of an encumbrance now, especially since he was now properly armed, but he knew that he would prove a distraction to the elves if they were attacked, for they would be concentrating more on protecting him rather than defending themselves. He did not wish to be the cause of any elf’s wounding or death. But the situation never arose.

Sometime in the late afternoon they were joined by one of the many patrols ranging near the elven Stronghold and Estel knew they were not far now from Legolas’ home. True to Legolas’ word, they came out of the trees into a large glade even as the sun was beginning to set. Estel looked about him in the gathering dusk. The glade was large and the other side of it could not be seen. A raging river ran through it and a stone causeway across it marked the entrance to the underground fortress of Thranduil. Lights began to glow in the trees surrounding the glade where elves resided in flets.

Legolas turned to Estel with a grin. "Welcome to the Woodland Realm, Aragorn. Welcome to my home."

Estel grinned back.

****

Man sâd le?: 'Where are you?', literally 'What place (are) you (in)?'

Daro: Stop (imperative form).

Le abdollen: 'You’re late'.

No nad ennas: 'Something is out there', literally 'A thing is there'.

Man cenig?:  'What do you see?'.

Yngyl:  Spiders (plural of ungol).

Le hannon: 'Thank you' (and this is the correct form; the accusative pronoun always comes before the verb in Sindarin).

Bado: Go (imperative form).

Salab-en-nestad: Literally, 'healing herb'; Comfrey (Symphytum officinale) — the rootstock can be made into a hot pulp and used as a poultice for wounds and bruises.

IX: Meet Me In Thranduil’s Stronghold

Elrond of Imladris was not happy.

Glorfindel recognized all the signs. The elf-lord was outwardly calm, his expression impassive. When he spoke, his voice was whisper-soft and the tone was what one would expect if its owner were discussing the feeding and caring of rosebushes. All bad signs as far as the former lord of the House of the Golden Flower was concerned.

The sight of Estel’s blood-encrusted sword lying beside the edge of the path but with no sign of Estel himself left both Elrond and Glorfindel several shades of white, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the Wood Elves now cleaning up the mess of battle. Elrond picked up the sword, staring at it as if he expected it to speak, telling him where its master had gone.

One of the Wood Elves approached the two Noldor. "Mae govannen, Lord Elrond," he said, giving the elf-lord a slight bow as he came near. "I regret the manner of your welcome to my adar’s realm."

Elrond did not respond but before the silence became too uncomfortable, Glorfindel answered for him, bowing slightly to the other elf. "Mae govannen, Prince Legolas. We seem to have misplaced our companion. Perhaps you would be so kind as to retrieve him for us."

Glorfindel’s tone was mild, but the underlying sense of disapproval was evident to all and not a few of the Wood Elves were heard to mutter their own disapproval at the way this Noldo addressed their beloved prince.

Elrond spoke at that point. "I will go myself." He wiped the blade clean with a rag that Glorfindel had found for him. "He could not have gone far. Perhaps if we call for him."

Legolas shook his head, placing a restraining hand on the Lord of Imladris. "It would do no good, my lord. Please, let me find him. The trees will tell me where he is."

"Surely an elf, even one of the Noldor, could find his way back to the path," sneered one of the Wood Elves standing next to Legolas. Some of the other ellyn sniggered.

"Our companion is a mortal," Glorfindel answered, glaring at the ellon who had spoken.

"Why then should we concern ourselves with a mere mortal, my prince?" asked another of Legolas’ companions. "If he is foolish enough to leave the path, let the forest deal with him as it will."

Before either Elrond or Glorfindel could react, Legolas rounded on the speaker, his grey eyes flashing with anger. "You do not know what you say, Bronweg. Foolish or not, he is no mere mortal. Lord Elrond’s companion is Aragorn son of Arathorn and heir to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor." Several of the elves looked at their prince in wonder and not a few threw surreptitious glances at the two Noldor. Glorfindel even heard one or two mutter "Isildur’s Heir."

"But even if he were not," Legolas continued, ignoring the others’ reactions, "he is the Lord Elrond’s companion and therefore a guest of my adar... and mine."

Bronweg blushed at the reprimand, and with a short bow muttered an apology, which, Glorfindel noticed, Elrond ignored. Instead, the elf-lord faced the forest, his eyes half closed in concentration. "I cannot sense him. He could not have gone far, yet nowhere do I feel him."

Legolas glanced at Glorfindel with an unhappy look before addressing Elrond. "My lord, I will find him and bring him to my adar. You have my word on this, but you and Lord Glorfindel must continue with the escort."

Elrond turned to the prince, his eyes bright with a suppressed fury that forced several of the Wood Elves back a step or two, though Legolas stood firm. "Find him."

It was not a request and several of the elves surrounding them bristled at the high-handed manner in which their prince was being addressed, but Legolas merely bowed again, his right hand over his heart. "I will, my lord." Then, straightening he began issuing orders. Two of the escort would go with Legolas to find the Lord Aragorn, as Legolas referred to Estel when speaking to the other Wood Elves, much to Glorfindel’s approval. The rest would act as escort to the Lords Elrond and Glorfindel and would make all haste to Thranduil’s Stronghold. At the last moment, Elrond approached the Woodland prince, holding out Estel’s sword to him.

"My son will want this when you find him," Elrond said softly and Glorfindel, long acquainted with the son of Eärendil, ached at the pain in his friend’s voice. Legolas must have picked up on it, for he smiled at the elf-lord with compassion.

"I am sure he will, my lord, and be grateful. I will find him, Ada Elrond. I will bring your son back to you."

Elrond stared at the younger elf for a long moment, then nodded, stepping back to see to his horse.

Legolas turned to one of the guards who would be accompanying him in his search. "Laslaerion, we will be bringing Lord Aragorn’s sword with us." Laslaerion took the sword with a short bow, wrapped the blade in a blanket and with the aid of the other guard, whose name Glorfindel could not recall, strapped the sword to his back.

Shortly thereafter, they were ready to depart. Legolas and the other two elves melted into the woods without another word, for what else could be said at this juncture that had not already been said? Then Bronweg approached Elrond and Glorfindel, giving them both a bow. "When you are ready, my lords."

Elrond stood staring at the spot where Legolas had entered the forest for a moment longer, then turned to the Wood Elf with a nod, "Let us go then."

****

They did not travel far, for already the day was nearly spent. Elrond rode in silence, refusing even to speak with Glorfindel, who wisely refrained from trying to force the Lord of Imladris out of his misery. The escort, perhaps out of respect, remained mostly silent as well, speaking in soft tones whenever necessary. When they finally stopped to rest for the night, Glorfindel had to intercept Elrond’s horse, for Elrond was not paying attention to the fact that they had stopped.

"We rest here for the night, Elrond," Glorfindel said quietly when Elrond came out of his reverie long enough to notice him. Wordlessly Elrond nodded and dismounted. When he would have seen to his horse, Glorfindel shook his head. "I will see to Tologyll. Go and rest. That’s an order, otornya."

Elrond started at the address. Rarely did Glorfindel use that term except in private, ever conscious of their relationship as lord and sworn vassal. That he used it now spoke volumes to Elrond.

"I am sorry, gwador nîn," Elrond said with some remorse. "My mind..."

"It’s all right, Elrond. I understand. Truly, I do. Go and rest and I will join you shortly."

Elrond nodded and went towards the fire that the escort had built in a small clearing not far from the road. The other elves made room for him, though he barely noticed their existence. None spoke to him, for which he was grateful. Soon, Glorfindel joined him, though not before snagging some stew for the both of them, setting one of the bowls into Elrond’s hands and ordering him to eat.

Elrond complied, though he could not afterwards say if the stew was any good, for he did not taste it. Glorfindel waited until after the elf-lord had eaten, though, before taking him to task.

"You’re moping, Elrond," Glorfindel said accusingly. Elrond looked at him in surprise. "I expect the twins to mope and the Valar know they do it often enough when on patrol and things don’t go their way, but I didn’t think you would."

"I couldn’t sense him, Glorfindel," Elrond explained, his voice harsh with guilt. "Always have I been able to sense his presence, just as I sense the presence of the twins or Arwen. Yet, here, I sense nothing. I fear it can only mean one thing."

"No, Elrond!" Glorfindel hissed, keeping his voice low, though he had no doubt the other elves could hear their conversation. "It doesn’t mean anything. There are any number of reasons why you might not sense him, the enchantments which permeate this forest being one of them. And I do not think you can sense anyone when they are unconscious."

Elrond looked enquiringly at the other elf and Glorfindel nodded.

"Think about it. When Elladan suffered that fall two years ago and was knocked unconscious, were you able to sense his presence then? Was it not until he regained consciousness that you were able to tell us where to find him, though we’d been searching for nearly a day after we learned he was missing?"

Elrond nodded at the memory. "That is true. One minute he was ‘there’ and then... nothing, until he woke again, yet I knew he was not dead for I did not sense his fëa leaving."

"There, you see? I think Estel lost consciousness and that’s why you couldn’t sense him."

"But it has been hours since he disappeared off the path, surely he has regained consciousness by now? Why can I not sense him?"

Glorfindel sat in thought for a moment. "How far can you sense him, Elrond? How far can you sense your children?"

"Distance is a factor, it is true," Elrond conceded. "For instance, I ceased to sense the twins once we passed over the mountains, but I sensed Arwen while we were in Rhosgobel, though once we entered Mirkwood, her presence faded from my thoughts. With Estel, I don’t think the range is quite that far. I have never been able to sense him once he passes west of the Bruinen, for instance, though as soon as he crosses the border into Imladris I know he is there."

"Well, the distance is less here than that between Imladris and the ford at Bruinen, but I think perhaps the enchantments of these woods might make it difficult for you. I would not worry until there’s a reason to do so."

Elrond cracked a thin smile. "Spoken like a true warrior, which is why I prefer to have Erestor act as my administrator."

Glorfindel smiled back. "Erestor was born worrying, which is why he makes a far better administrator than I ever could."

The two elves sat in companionable silence after that, sipping some tea that Bronweg had brewed for them. The other elves around them gave them space without necessarily excluding them from their company. These Wood Elves were unused to the Noldor and felt a mixture of awe and contempt for them. The memories of the elves are long and many slights, real or imaginary, have been allowed to fester over the last three Ages and smolder into resentment. Neither Elrond nor Glorfindel bothered to acknowledge any resentments they might feel emanating from any of the elves sitting around them. Elrond would claim it was a waste of time, while Glorfindel simply thought such things were beneath one who had fought and slain a balrog. Dying, he once told Elrond and Gil-galad only half jokingly, gave one a marvelous perspective on what was truly important in life.

When they had been quiet for a time, half listening to the soft singing of some of the Wood Elves, Glorfindel leaned towards Elrond and commented softly, "I only hope Radagast never finds out we...er... misplaced Estel. We would never hear the end of it."

Elrond choked on his half-swallowed tea, forcing Glorfindel to pound him on the back. When he finally got himself under control, Elrond whispered a particularly foul oath in Rohirric that caused Glorfindel to laugh outright, much to the surprise of the other elves.

"I am glad, though, that Legolas is accompanied by Galadhor and Laslaerion," Elrond commented once Glorfindel calmed down. "They are valiant ellyn and fiercely loyal to Legolas."

"Sorry, who?"

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel with a wry look. "Surely, mellon nîn, you cannot forget the two guards who came to Imladris with Legolas when he last visited us?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "Elrond, that was, what, six hundred years ago? Much has happened since then. I cannot be expected to recall every youngster who traipses through Imladris now can I?"

One of the elves sitting next to them laughed. "Galadhor and Laslaerion are no elflings, my lord. Both followed our Lord Oropher from Doriath."

Glorfindel raised a delicate eyebrow at the younger elf. "Indeed? They’re that old?"

"Oh yes, my lord. I believe Galadhor was born only a decade or so before the rising of Ithil and Laslaerion soon after."

"Ah, Ithil," Glorfindel said in a musing tone. "I believe we had just completed crossing the Helcaraxë when Ithil rose. A rather beautiful sight, although my Lord Turgon was more interested in checking on the whereabouts of his daughter, Idril. That child had the uncanny ability to disappear right in front of us. Turgon had half his troops out looking for her." He chuckled at the memory, ignoring the looks of awe on the other elves’ faces. "I finally found her sitting in Galadriel’s lap, playing with her doll," he confided to Elrond and both elves chuckled at that.

"Y-you remember the Two Trees, my lord?" stuttered the young Wood Elf, nearly whispering in awe.

Glorfindel looked up from his musings and smiled sadly. "Aye, I remember the Two Trees, lad, and much else besides."

"Shh!" Bronweg admonished suddenly, raising a hand in command. "The trees are speaking."

It was only then that Glorfindel noticed that the branches of the trees surrounding this small glade were moving, even though there was no wind that night. The rustling of their leaves indeed sounded like a group of people whispering.

"What do they say?" Elrond asked in a voice that was too calm for Glorfindel’s taste.

For a moment none of the Wood Elves spoke, their attention drawn to the trees. Then, Bronweg smiled and turned to the Noldor. "Prince Legolas has found Lord Aragorn. The mortal is alive and they are heading for the Stronghold and will meet us there."

Glorfindel released a breath he was not aware he had been holding and sent a prayer of thanksgiving to the Valar. Elrond closed his eyes briefly, no doubt adding his own prayer to Glorfindel’s.

"Why don’t they just come to us?" Glorfindel asked.

Bronweg shook his head. "Prince Legolas prefers to travel through the trees. It will be swifter than our own path. Do not fear, my lord. Our prince will not allow the mortal to come to any harm. All will be well."

And with that the two elves from Imladris had to be content.

****

They were four days traveling before they reached Thranduil’s Stronghold. The rest of the trip was uneventful, and a day out from the stronghold they met up with another patrol.

The captain of the patrol, a dark-haired ellon with hazel eyes, addressed them with a short bow. "Mae govannen, Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel. It has been many years since last we met."

"Mae govannen, Arandor," Elrond said graciously. "What news do you bring us?"

"Thranduil sent us to ensure your safe arrival and to tell you that Prince Legolas arrived yestereve with your companion."

"Is my... is Lord Aragorn well?" Elrond asked quietly, attempting to appear nonchalant.

"Aye, my lord," the captain smiled. "Well enough for one who has had to have his head stitched."

"Head?" Elrond’s voice went soft. Arandor must have felt the tension in the elf-lord’s voice, for he hastened to assure the Lord of Imladris.

"Fear not, my lord. The wound was shallow and there are no lasting effects. Lord Aragorn rests comfortably enough and is anxious for your arrival."

Elrond breathed a sigh of relief. "Then we best not tarry, should we?"

****

The arrival before the gates of the Stronghold of the prince with Estel in tow caused quite a stir. The guards before the gates were not happy admitting a disreputable-looking mortal into the realm, but Legolas assured them that Lord Aragorn was an honored guest of the king and would brook no delay in getting him to the healers so that his wounds could be seen to.

Estel recalled little of the way that they took. While he had not suffered unduly from his head wound, the last few days were finally catching up with him and he found himself reeling slightly as they walked down a seemingly endless corridor. Galadhor caught him in time and steadied him.

"Just a bit further, my lord," the elf said quietly. "We’re almost there."

Estel nodded his understanding and concentrated on not embarrassing himself or his escort. They had gone only a few dozen more steps when Legolas turned into a room that Estel immediately recognized as an infirmary, similar in set-up to his adar’s in Imladris. It even smelled the same, he noticed with a twinge of nostalgia. Legolas was speaking to one of the healers who motioned the mortal to sit while his wounds were examined.

Now he stoically endured the healer’s ministrations, wishing somewhat guiltily that Elrond were there instead. Somehow whenever his adar had to treat him, his wounds did not seem to hurt as much.

While the healer was stitching him up an elf walked into the room. Everyone except the healer stiffened at the elf’s entrance. Estel found himself trying to rise, so powerful was this Firstborn’s personality. The healer uttered an oath and forced him back down. The elf looked on with ill-concealed amusement, while Legolas simply grimaced at his new friend’s discomfort. The elf’s golden hair and blue eyes were a match for Legolas and Estel decided this must be Thranduil, Legolas’ sire. There was an aura of authority about him that reminded Estel greatly of Elrond, but whereas Elrond’s power was subtle and refined, Thranduil’s was wilder and more apparent. He wasn’t sure if Thranduil wasn’t therefore the more dangerous for his unsubtleness.

Thranduil stared impassively at the mortal for a long moment, as if attempting to ascertain his worth, then turned to his son and spoke in the Silvan tongue. Legolas, however, would have none of it.

"Now Adar," he said in Sindarin. "Aragorn is a guest. If naneth were here she would be most displeased at your rudeness."

Estel found himself holding his breath, and he was not at all surprised to find the healer doing the same. But whatever explosion he expected from Thranduil never came. Instead the king grinned in a feral manner and then laughed. "You are a naughty elfling, iôn nîn," he said in Sindarin. "Dragging your poor naneth into this when she cannot be here to defend herself against such slander."

Legolas smiled briefly. "Adar, may I present Lord Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain and Isildur’s Heir."

The smile fled the Woodland king’s face to be replaced by some other emotion Estel could not fathom. "Yes. Isildur. Elrond should have taken that insolent pup and thrown him into the fires of the Sammath Naur along with that accursed Ring when he had the chance."

"Adar!" Legolas admonished his father and when Thranduil actually blushed, Estel began to understand that there was at least one person in this realm who did not fear Thranduil or his famed wrath.

The elven king collected himself and gave Estel a small bow. "My apologies, young lord. I fear I have allowed history to get in the way of my manners."

Estel held up a hand in supplication. "Please, my lord king, there is no need to apologize. I have often wondered why Ad... I mean, Lord Elrond did not do just that."

Thranduil gave Estel a shrewd glance. "So, the rumors are true. Elrond brought you up as his son, did he?"

"Yes, my lord."

"He was always fond of the race of Men. Too fond, if you ask me, but I suppose it must be blamed on his mortal bloodline."

Estel saw Legolas roll his eyes at that and fought to hide a smile in spite of his anger at Thranduil’s slander of his beloved adar, never mind the implied insult to the Secondborn. One thing he was beginning to suspect: with Thranduil you always knew where you stood. That was almost refreshing, Estel decided, even as he was contemplating ways of wiping the smug look off the king’s face that wouldn’t get him instantly killed.

"There, all done," the healer said, an elleth named Nessiel, with russet hair and deep green eyes, who smiled down at Estel with the same look of satisfaction that he had seen on his adar and the other healers of Imladris whenever they had completed a medical procedure, however simple. "You should try to keep it clean, young man, though, if you’re like every other youngling I’ve ever known, I doubt that will be possible."

Estel glanced at the healer in surprise. "I assure you, my lady, I am as cognizant of the need to keep a wound clean as any. Lord Elrond has had me by his side in his healing rooms since I was five. Had some other than myself been so wounded I would have been able to stitch it up as easily as you did."

"I see," Nessiel said, somewhat nonplused. "In that case, I will expect you to follow my instructions to the letter. You are not seeing double, are you? No lights in front of your eyes, no headache?"

"No, healer. I am well, except for being sore and in need of a hot bath."

"Well, we can remedy that." She went to a cupboard and removed a small jar. "Rub this into any area that feels sore. It should help ease the pain."

Estel opened the lid to find the jar contained a lotion and sniffed. "Tathar, mîdhaear... and I think some salab-en-nestad."

"Very good," Nessiel said. "Lord Elrond has indeed taught you well. Use this after your bath and I think you will not be as sore by morning."

Thranduil spoke then, his voice dripping with unconcealed sarcasm. "If you are through cossetting the mortal, Nessiel, perhaps we can get on with it."

Nessiel turned to the king with a look of disdain. "I did not patch him up just so you could tear him apart again, my lord. The boy’s not the enemy."

"I assure you, healer, I have no intention of, as you say, tearing him apart. And as for being the enemy..." the king scowled. "I should have killed Isildur myself, but Elrond was too soft-hearted for his own good and —"

"Enough, Adar," Legolas scolded Thranduil, his voice soft. "Aragorn is not to be blamed for the mistakes of his ancestors, no more than I am to be blamed for daeradar’s."

Silence hung in the room like a vulture ready to pounce. Estel noticed that the two guards were quietly backing away from the two royals, and even Nessiel had stepped to the other side of the examining table, her expression wary. Estel only wished he could do the same, but he was forced to sit there between Legolas and his adar. He hoped he would be able to duck fast enough when the blow came.

It was not long in coming.

Thranduil’s face darkened and the light of his eyes brightened to incandescent fury.

"Elrond may have a use for his pet Dúnadan, but I do not. Had I known how much trouble this mortal would cause —"

"It was not Aragorn who attacked the spiders, Adar, and his being pushed off the path and lost in the woods was not his fault. I will not have you punishing him for something that happened an age ago. He’s my guest, even if he is no longer yours, and I will expect you to treat him accordingly."

For an interminable length of time father and son stared at each other. Legolas was calm, his gaze cool and his stance unbending, while Thranduil seemed ready to burst. Looking at him, Estel wondered if elves could suffer an apoplexy the way humans could. Finally, Thranduil seemed to deflate and his features relaxed somewhat, though he was not ready to admit defeat.

"See to it your guest behaves himself. I will ensure that you are informed when Elrond arrives." He turned to the healer. "Is the mortal well enough to leave here?"

Estel had the distinct feeling that the king of the Woodland Realm would be just as happy if he weren’t, but Nessiel merely nodded. "As long as he remains quiet for another day or two, I see no reason why he cannot be elsewhere. I do want to see you once a day, Lord Aragorn, to ensure that your head wound is healing nicely."

Estel bowed to the healer, a slight smile on his lips. "I am sure Legolas will make sure I do not forget, Lady Nessiel."

Nessiel smiled back, her eyes on the prince. "I’m sure he will."

"Come Aragorn," Legolas said, taking the mortal’s arm. "I will show you to your rooms where you can bathe and rest. I’ll have something brought to you from the kitchens. You won’t have to endure a feast until your adar and Glorfindel arrive. Adar," he turned to Thranduil with a small nod of his head. Estel was barely able to execute his own abbreviated bow before Legolas was pulling him out of the room with Galadhor and Laslaerion right behind.

They traversed the corridors in silence. Estel could tell from the way Legolas moved that he was furious, though his expression remained as impassive and as inscrutable as any elf he had ever known. It wasn’t long however before Legolas led them into a suite of rooms. They stood in a small parlor beyond which lay the bedroom. A bathing room and the privy could be found as well, according to Legolas as he described the appointments of the suite.

"I hope you will be comfortable here, Aragorn," Legolas said somewhat stiffly, as if he expected Estel to voice his disapproval over the accommodations.

Estel smiled. "It’s larger than my room in Imladris, Legolas, and I’ve gotten used to sleeping in the wilds, as well, so this is a luxury to which I am unaccustomed."

"Well, if you want to move outdoors —" Legolas began, a small smile on his face.

Estel raised a hand in protest. "I said I had gotten used to sleeping in the wilds, I said nothing about enjoying the experience."

The three elves laughed in sympathy, knowing what he meant.

Estel sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, suddenly feeling more fatigued than he had any right to feel. "I’m sorry to cause any trouble between you and your adar —"

"No, Aragorn," Legolas admonished. "You are not to blame for what has happened. My adar is angrier at me than at you, but you are an easier target, and he has never been fond of mortals, for all that he deals with Bard of Dale and the Men of Lake-town on a regular basis. Once Elrond and Glorfindel arrive, he will turn his ire on them. The difference is that Lord Elrond is not easily impressed by anyone’s histrionics and Lord Glorfindel eats people like my adar for breakfast."

Estel smiled. "I guess being a reborn balrog-slayer does have its good points."

Legolas laughed at that, the tension easing from his stance. "Come, you should bathe and then I think you would do well to rest for a time. I will join you for dinner later if you like."

"I would be honored… as long as Galadhor and Laslaerion may join us, that is unless they would prefer to eat with their own families."

The two guards smiled and Galadhor answered for them both. "The honor will be ours, my lord. Our families see us often enough not to be impressed by our absence. Do not concern yourself in that regard."

"Then we will leave you to your bath," Legolas said with a bow. "The wardrobe has several changes of clothing. There should be something there that will fit you reasonably well until your adar arrives with your bags. Rest well, mellon nîn."

Shortly thereafter Estel found himself alone for the first time in weeks. Leaving the door between the bedroom and the parlor open he went looking for the bath, which was most welcome and he stayed in it as long as he could. Afterwards he rubbed the herbal mixture Nessiel had given him into his limbs, the pungent smell brightening the air and leaving him feeling pleasantly relaxed. He wrapped a robe that he had found in the wardrobe around his lean body. There were also tunics, shirts and breeches as well as small clothes he noticed, most of which appeared to be the right size for him. Going to the bed, which was twice as wide as his own bed in Imladris, he lay down with a contented sigh, intending only to rest for a few minutes before dressing but a quiet knock on the parlor door woke him and his internal clock told him he had slept several hours.

He rose with a yawn and, going into the parlor, opened the door to find Legolas standing there with a tray in his hand, looking much as he had before, though the elf had changed into more appropriate clothing: a tunic of soft green with an overrobe of figured silk in shades of blue and silver.

"I woke you," he said with a slight frown. "Forgive me."

"That’s all right," Estel said with a grin as he opened the door wider to let the elf in. "I had to get up to answer the door anyway."

Legolas smiled as he put the tray down on a small table in the parlor. "In that case, I will not bother feeling guilty. I brought you some dinner. Galadhor and Laslaerion will join us later as they both have duties to attend to and could not get away."

"Will you join me then?" Estel asked.

Legolas shook his head. "I will visit with you while you eat but Adar insisted that I join him for dinner later and he would not take no for an answer."

"Let me get dressed then," Estel said and went into the bedroom and closed the door. A few minutes later he emerged dressed in a tunic of dark green and gold over a butter-yellow shirt. His breeches were the same color as the shirt. The tunic was slightly longer than he was used to but it fitted him well enough. Legolas smiled in approval.

"Now you look the proper elf," he said.

"But I am not an elf, Legolas, I am a Man and I do not apologize to anyone for that." Estel sat in front of the tray to examine the dishes on it and began to eat.

"Not even to my adar," the elf nodded, sitting in a nearby chair, snagging a piece of bread for himself. "It must not have been easy for you, the only mortal child growing up in Imladris."

"No, but as you can see, I survived." Estel grinned before taking a bit of venison.

For a few minutes neither spoke as Estel continued eating, only just now aware of how hungry he was. It was only as he began to slow down that Legolas took up the conversation again as he poured some cider for himself and his guest. Legolas informed him as he was pouring the drink that Nessiel had forbidden Estel to drink anything stronger for a day or two because of his head wound.

"Your adar and Glorfindel should arrive tomorrow. Adar sent out another patrol to intercept them. He wasn’t too pleased to do it, but I suspect that he wants to make sure they arrive in one piece."

"Surely this close to the Stronghold they should not encounter any problems?" Estel asked before taking a sip of the cider.

"The minions of the Enemy are getting bolder, it is true, but none have been found so close to the Stronghold before. Yet, there is always the first time, as they say. Adar just doesn’t want to take any chances of upsetting the Lady of the Golden Wood if anything untoward were to happen to her favorite son-in-law."

Estel choked on his drink trying not to laugh. "Adar is Lady Galadriel’s only son-in-law, and I did not think your adar was afraid of anyone."

Legolas grinned. "Adar would like everyone to think so, and he may not care for his cousin’s wife, but he has a healthy respect for her. She is, after all, the most powerful of the Eldar east of Aman. Even Adar has to admit that, little though he likes it. He primarily disapproves of Lord Celeborn’s choice of mate."

"I have never met the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, though perhaps someday I will. My brothers had spoken of them often enough as I was growing up, enough so that I almost felt as if I knew them myself." He paused to take another sip and chuckled. "I remember when I was very young asking Elrohir if his daeradar and daernaneth were mine as well, since we were brothers. I didn’t understand at the time why he found the question so amusing, though now I do."

"What did he say?" Legolas asked, his eyes brightening with amusement.

"He told me that if I ever were to meet them, I should ask their permission to adopt them first."

Legolas laughed at that and Estel joined him. "Not that I would ever be so stupid, mind you."

"Oh, I don’t know, Aragorn. It would be worth it just to see the Lady’s expression if you did."

"Right before Lord Celeborn had me skinned alive for my temerity, no doubt."

"No doubt, but it would be entertaining nonetheless."

"You elves have strange ideas of what constitutes entertainment."

Before Legolas could answer there was a knock on the door and when Estel rose to answer it he found Galadhor and Laslaerion standing there, wide grins on their faces. Galadhor held up a bottle of wine and Laslaerion had two glasses in his hands.

"We brought some Dorwinion to properly celebrate your arrival, my lord."

"We had best save it for later, my friends," Legolas said as they came inside. "Lady Nessiel would not appreciate having her patient drunk with a head wound. I brought something milder for us to drink. I must soon go to have dinner with my adar but we may still enjoy one another’s company for a time."

So saying, he poured more cider out for them all and soon they were having a pleasant visit until Legolas had to leave. Galadhor and Laslaerion remained behind for another hour before Estel pleaded fatigue. Climbing into bed a few minutes after wishing the two elves a good-night, he wondered what the next day would bring when his adar and Glorfindel arrived and more importantly, he wondered if Elrond would finally reveal to him the purpose of this visit to the Woodland Realm.

****

Ellon/Ellyn: Male elf/elves.

Otornya: (Quenya) "my brother", contracted from otornonya, cf. yonya "my son" as a contraction of yondonya. Used for one who is not a blood brother but a sworn companion. The Sindarin form is gwador nîn. Glorfindel using the Quenya form in addressing Elrond rather than continuing in Sindarin (which is what they were speaking) would be a way of getting through to Elrond, much the same way that Radagast did by using the Quenya equivalent of Glorfindel’s name in a previous chapter.

Note: Legolas addressing Elrond as Ada would be similar to the human custom of addressing an elder as "Grandfather" or "Grandmother" as a sign of respect. 

X: We’re Off to See the Ithron

Elrond of Imladris was still not happy.

He and Glorfindel arrived at the stronghold around noon with Thranduil waiting for them at the Great Gate, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.

They had dismounted before the causeway with assurances that their horses would be taken care of and their baggage seen to, leaving the two Imladris elves to cross the bridge with Arandor as a single guard.

"He looks angry," Glorfindel commented softly to Elrond, speaking in Quenya.

Elrond gave his friend a wry glance and Glorfindel amended his statement. "Well, angrier than usual."

Elrond’s only comment was a soft chuckle that held no humor in it.

Both elves bowed to Thranduil when they came to him, but Thranduil did not give them time to offer the traditional greeting.

"If I had known your mortal would cause so much trouble, I wouldn’t have allowed him here."

Elrond raised an eyebrow at that. "It’s nice to see you as well, Thranduil. Do you think we’ll have more snow before Yule?"

Thranduil’s scowl deepened and then he flung back his head and began laughing. "Elrond, Elrond, you never cease to amaze me. All those yéni as Gil-galad’s herald obviously paid off. Come, enter into my Stronghold and be welcomed. Do you wish to freshen up or have some refreshments first?"

"I would like to see Aragorn first."

"My son thought as much. I think he is with my personal healer, Nessiel, even now, having his head wound looked at."

"How serious —"

Thranduil waved a hand. "Barely enough to comment on. I think he has a few stitches but otherwise is well. Come, I know you will not be content until you’ve seen for yourself."

Dismissing Arandor, Thranduil led Elrond and Glorfindel to the infirmary. Legolas was there in the anteroom and bowed to them as they entered and they exchanged greetings.

"Aragorn is in the other room with Nessiel," Legolas explained. "She decided that his wound might be slightly infected and wished to clean it out."

"How is he otherwise, Legolas?" Elrond asked.

Legolas shrugged. "He seemed well this morning, though complaining of soreness. He ate a good breakfast and acknowledged that he had slept well with little discomfort."

"You see," Thranduil said, nodding. "Nothing to worry about."

Before Elrond could comment, however, Estel walked out of the examining room with Nessiel. His eyes lit up as he saw his adar and Glorfindel. Elrond opened his arms to embrace him.

"How is he Nessiel?" he asked as he and Estel hugged.

The healer smiled. "Well enough, Elrond. I’ve disinfected the wound and I don’t think it will cause any problems. He should rest for another two or three days, though, just to be safe. No climbing trees or hunting." This last was directed at Legolas, who smiled with a slight nod in acknowledgment.

Elrond smiled at his foster son. "What did I tell you about leaving the path, iôn nîn?" he chided gently.

Estel blushed and looked down. "Sorry, Adar."

Glorfindel laughed at that and even Thranduil had an indulgent smile on his face.

"Come," Thranduil said, motioning them out the door after Nessiel assured Elrond that Estel was fine and should not need her services until the stitches were ready to come out. "Legolas will show you your rooms and then we will meet in my study after you have freshened up, say an hour from now?"

Elrond nodded and with a brief farewell, Thranduil left them. Legolas led them to rooms across from Estel’s and an hour later they were all congregated in Thranduil’s study. The king of the Woodland Realm served them all some Dorwinion wine, all that is except Estel. Elrond insisted that the mortal be given fruit juice because of his head injury. Estel grimaced at that but otherwise said nothing.

Elrond looked at Thranduil after everyone had been served. "Is he here?"

Thranduil nodded. "Yes, he is. I’ve managed to keep him here for the past two weeks, insisting that he could not possibly leave before Yule. I told him to do so would be insulting to me personally. I don’t know if I was at all convincing but he has agreed to remain here until after Yule."

Elrond nodded. "Good. I thank you for that. It is important that Mithrandir meet Estel."

"If I may ask, Lord Elrond," Legolas said. "Why could you not wait until Mithrandir made his way to Imladris? Surely journeying all the way here..."

Elrond shook his head. "There were reasons why I chose not to wait, Legolas, reasons I do not feel ready to divulge at this time."

"Why do you want me to meet Mithrandir, Adar?" Estel asked.

Elrond gave his foster son a look that caused the young Man to look down in embarrassment, then relented with a soft sigh. "My reasons will become clear in time, iôn nîn. Be patient."

Estel nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor until he felt a hand on his shoulder and looking up saw Legolas smiling in encouragement. Estel found himself smiling back.

"So the next question is when and where?"

"I believe that’s two questions, Thranduil," Glorfindel said with a wry smile as he sipped his wine.

Thranduil scowled. "Don’t start with me, Noldorion, not in my own realm."

"Farn, Adar!" Legolas admonished his father. "How long have you and Lord Glorfindel been baiting each other? Do you think we can avoid such things at least for a few days? It is almost Yule after all."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at his son and Glorfindel glanced at Elrond with a wry smile. "Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?"

Elrond snorted, stealing a glance at Estel, who had the grace to blush. "Do not remind me. I am not in the habit of allowing my children to admonish me."

"Nor am I," Thranduil said with a glare at his son who pretended not to notice.

Legolas placed his goblet down and, standing up, turned to Estel. "Come, Aragorn. Why don’t we find some luncheon and then I will give you the grand tour. We will leave our elders to snipe at each other. I get the feeling they’ve been wanting a good battle of words for some time."

Estel glanced at Elrond and Glorfindel who were both trying to look affronted while at the same time not trying to laugh. Thranduil just rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. The mortal smiled at Legolas.

"Sounds good to me." He stood and bowed to the three older elves and began to follow Legolas out.

Glorfindel could not resist a final parting shot, though. "Remember youngling, no climbing trees or hunting."

Estel turned around and backing out of the room with a smile, said, "Yes, nana. Anything you say, nana."

The sound of the three elf-lords’ laughter echoed through the hallway as Estel joined Legolas, who was grinning.

"They do sound like nenith sometimes don’t they?"

"Only when they’re not sounding like edair."

They both laughed at that and soon they arrived at the dining hall. The luncheon hour was actually long past, but for the prince of the realm and his guest the cooks were willing to provide them with a vegetable stew, bread, cheese and a couple of late autumn apples, as well as cider to wash it all down with. They had the dining hall to themselves, save for the servants finishing up the cleaning and making ready for the evening meal.

"I suspect Adar will hold a welcoming feast tomorrow night, so we are not expected to eat here tonight if you do not wish. We can have dinner in my suite tonight if you prefer."

"That sounds good," Estel said, taking an appreciative sip of the cider. It was not hard cider, unfortunately, but sweet, appropriate for elflings and mortals with head wounds. Legolas had declined the hard cider in favor of the sweet cider for them both, knowing that Estel should not be drinking anything fermented. Estel wasn’t sure if he should feel insulted or not, but appreciated Legolas’ attempt not to make him feel left out, as he had felt when being forced to drink fruit juice while the elves all were drinking wine.

As they were finishing up, sipping their cider, Estel asked, "Do you have any idea why Adar wants me to meet Mithrandir?"

"Do you know who he is?"

Estel nodded. "Adar calls him one of the ithryn. I remember seeing him arrive in Imladris with thirteen dwarves and a hobbit when I was ten, about fifteen years ago, but I never actually met him." He sighed, staring into his goblet. "My naneth and my brothers were very good at keeping me away from any strangers who made their way through Imladris." He looked up and gave Legolas a wry grin. "Of course, at the time I had no idea why my brothers would suddenly announce that they were taking me camping. At that age I was just happy to be allowed to go with my brothers anywhere."

"They were trying to protect you." Legolas said sympathetically.

Estel nodded. "Yes, I know, but looking back I wonder..."

Legolas shook his head. "No, mellon nîn. We may regret that our lives have unfolded as they have but we should not regret the decisions of our elders who only wished us to be safe. I do not doubt that the decision to hide your true identity even from you was not lightly made, nor lightly unmade."

Estel stared at his friend for a moment in contemplation before nodding. He wondered, though, if Legolas had been speaking as much for himself as for Estel, but decided it was not something that he should ask about. Long experience had taught him some of the questions not to ask elves.

"So, if you’re finished," Legolas said, "why don’t I take you on that tour."

Estel nodded, draining his goblet. They returned their dirty dishes to the kitchen and then continued on. Legolas led Estel to the main hall, which served as Thranduil’s throne room. As they walked, Legolas regaled Estel with stories of how the Wood Elves had been forced to flee ever northward to escape the darkness spreading from Dol Guldur, eventually coming to the caverns that became the Stronghold.

"The dwarves of Erebor helped us to convert these caverns into livable space. Adar remembers Menegroth and Nargothrond, and while he says these caverns do not match the grandeur of either, I think they’re grand enough."

Estel nodded. "Yes, I agree," he said. "It’s really quite beautiful." It would never rival the beauty of Imladris in his heart, but he could see that Legolas was proud of his home, and justifiably so.

Legolas limited their tour to the upper levels of the Stronghold that day, not wishing to tire Estel out and indeed, towards the end, he noticed the mortal’s energy flagging.

"Would you like to go outside for a time, mellon nîn? The entrance is not far and you might like to get some fresh air."

"That would be good," Estel said with some relief. He had begun to feel oppressed by the immensity of the caverns and the press of stone upon his spirit. To see the sky and breathe fresh air would indeed be welcomed.

Legolas led him down the main hallway to the open Great Gate. As they approached a gust of snow-laden air blew in, sending chills down Estel’s spine even as he breathed deeply, feeling refreshed. Legolas noticed the shivering though, brief as it was, and motioned to one of the guards standing at the Gate.

"Damrod, lend Lord Aragorn your cloak. We wish to go outside but we will not be long."

The guard nodded and doffed his cloak, handing it to Estel with a brief bow. Estel put it over his shoulders gratefully and gave Damrod a bow in return. Then he and Legolas moved past the opening and onto the causeway. The afternoon was waning and the sky to the west was turning purple and crimson with the setting sun. They walked to the other end of the causeway so they could look back. Legolas pointed out certain landmarks.

"The road curves away to the northwest around the other side of these caverns before turning east and then north once again towards Erebor and Dale. That way," he pointed now in the opposite direction, "lies Esgaroth and Lake-town now rebuilt."

"What was it like?" Estel asked. "I mean, when Smaug was destroyed."

For long moments Legolas did not speak, as if gathering his thoughts of that momentous event.

"I was on a patrol to the east. The Dwarves had escaped from my adar’s prisons, though none of us could determine how. We knew that their ultimate destination had to have been Erebor, though what they hoped to accomplish there against the dragon we could not fathom. At any rate I was sent east toward Erebor to keep an eye on things. We did not know that the Dwarves had made their way to Lake-town nor that the people there would supply them with what they needed for their expedition. Our first indication that anything was amiss was when Smaug suddenly flew out of Erebor and began devastating the mountainside and then flew off towards Esgaroth. We had no idea what had happened or what had caused the dragon to go on such a rampage as he had not done in several centuries.

"I hurried back here to report to Adar and arrived just in time to hear the death shrieks of the dragon as it plunged into Esgaroth, though we are too far away to see the lake itself. The force of his plunge brought water flowing backward towards us, so that the banks overflowed somewhat, though we suffered little damage ourselves. I no sooner arrived than I was sent out again, this time to Lake-town. The devastation there was immense and the survivors were huddled on the shore, many with injuries. I organized the relief effort with Bard who later became king of Dale, and sent for more elves to help."

He shook his head at the memory, his eyes sad at the loss of innocent lives.

"There was much joy in the death of the dragon, but much sorrow for the destruction his death caused."

"A bitter victory, then," commented Estel. "I have heard some of what happened afterwards at the Battle of the Five Armies." He gave Legolas a sly grin. "Glorfindel intimated that he was less than happy not to have been there."

Legolas gave a short laugh. "That does not surprise me. I think your brothers might have felt the same."

Estel laughed with him. "Yes, I’ll have to ask them about it when I get home."

The wind blew a sudden gust, forcing Estel to clutch his cloak closer around him. "Come," Legolas said. "Let us go in and find a warm fire for you. You look tired."

Estel nodded as they headed back. "I confess that I am feeling somewhat fatigued. Perhaps a short nap before dinner would not be amiss."

"Then as soon as we get you warmed up I will leave you to your nap. I will have someone wake you in time for dinner."

They stopped at the gate long enough for Estel to return the guard’s cloak with his thanks, then Legolas took Estel back to his rooms where a cheery fire already awaited them. There was no sign of Elrond or Glorfindel and after spending a few minutes chatting, Legolas bade Estel farewell and left him to his nap.

****

A couple of hours later Estel found himself sitting in the parlor of Legolas’ suite. It was sparsely appointed yet clearly lived in. A bow and a quiver full of arrows occupied one corner while two wicked white-hilted long knives hung above the fireplace. A table had been placed before the fire laden with dishes and the two friends sat there enjoying their repast. Legolas poured some wine into two goblets, adding water to one of them.

"Nessiel would probably kill me if she knew, but I don’t think a small glass of watered wine will cause you any trouble. Just drink it slowly."

"Don’t worry, I will," Estel said with a nod of thanks as he took a sip. "Adar would probably not be satisfied with just killing you, though, if he finds out, but I am as much a healer as either of them and I know the dangers of drinking wine for someone who has suffered a head wound. However, it’s been two days, and I have not felt any dizziness or pain."

"I am glad," Legolas said with a smile, "as I want to take you climbing trees and hunting spiders tomorrow if the weather holds." His tone was that of an over-eager elfling wishing to show a visiting cousin a good time.

Estel sputtered, trying not to laugh as he swallowed his wine. "Perhaps we should hold off on the spider hunt for another day. I’ll just settle for climbing trees for now."

Legolas joined him in laughter and for a time the two friends talked about the trees they had climbed as children and the scrapes they had gotten themselves into (and out of) while growing up. It was a pleasant visit that was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Legolas got up and answered it to find Elrond standing before him. He bowed to the elf-lord and ushered him in. Estel blushed slightly as he saw his adar raise an eyebrow at the sight of the wine bottle.

"It’s mostly water," he said apologetically as he stood up to greet Elrond.

"Indeed. I trust you to know your own body and its limitations, Estel, and I am confident that you have not over indulged."

"Was there something you wished, my lord?" Legolas asked quietly.

Elrond smiled at the prince. "Only to know that Estel has not over extended himself today. Glorfindel was worried."

Estel snorted at this and Legolas smiled. "And you weren’t?" Estel asked skeptically.

"I am your adar, Estel," Elrond said. "I always worry, but over the years I’ve learned to worry about only the important things. I knew you were in good hands with Legolas, but I think it may be time for you to retire."

Estel was about to protest, but then he realized that he had been feeling a slight headache for some time and knew his adar was correct and nodded.

"Come, I will make you some willow bark tea for that headache and then it’s off to bed with you."

Estel looked at Elrond in surprise. "How did you know I—"

Elrond chuckled. "I helped raise you, iôn nîn. I know all the signs."

Estel sighed and stole a glance at Legolas who was still smiling. The prince bade them goodnight with a promise to Estel that he would join him for breakfast and the two left.

Back in his suite a half an hour later, Estel sipped the bitter tea his adar had brewed for him as he told Elrond and Glorfindel of his day. Once the tea was drunk though, the two elves wished him a good night and in a few moments he was fast asleep.

****

When Legolas came to escort Estel to breakfast the next morning, he was carrying a cloak over his arm as well as his bow and quiver over his shoulder. "It is snowing outside now, though it should clear by noon. I thought we could get in some sparring after breakfast and then perhaps you would like to ride with me after lunch."

Estel needed no further urging, and picking up his own cloak and buckling on his sword, he followed Legolas to the dining hall. Elrond and Glorfindel were already there, deep in conversation with Thranduil. Estel looked around wondering if he would finally get a glimpse of the Wizard, but there was no sign. As if he could read his thoughts, Legolas shook his head.

"Mithrandir has been in Dale this past week. He promised Adar that he would return by midafternoon today as tomorrow is Yule. Patience, mellon nîn, you will see him soon enough. Let’s get some breakfast and then go."

Breakfast in the Woodland Realm was as informal as it was in Imladris with people helping themselves to whatever they wished from a sideboard. Soon Estel and Legolas were seated at a table to one side of the high table where the royal family would normally sit during feasts. Today, Thranduil held court with Elrond and Glorfindel on either side of him flanked by several courtiers. Their discussion, while animated, was held in low tones so that none could hear what was being said. Elrond glanced up briefly and gave a nod and a smile in greeting to his foster son before returning to the conversation.

"What do you suppose they’re talking about?" Estel asked.

Legolas tore off a piece of warm bread and began slathering butter and honey on it before answering. "Probably what they always talk about these days—the evil of Dol Guldur. Though the Necromancer was driven from there some fifteen years ago, evil still lingers and it is believed that it has been reoccupied."

"Fifteen years ago. The same time as Smaug was destroyed? That can’t be a coincidence, can it?"

Legolas gave Estel a piercing glance. "Some would say yea, others nay to that, mellon nîn."

"And what do you say?" Estel asked between mouthfuls of porridge sprinkled with nuts and a bit of honey.

"Mithrandir says there is no such thing as coincidence and I think I have lived long enough to know that he is correct. The fact that Mithrandir was involved in both the death of Smaug and the fleeing of the Necromancer is, I think, a telling point."

Estel frowned. "But I thought he was not even near Erebor until afterwards."

"Oh, he had nothing to do with the actual destruction of the dragon, but he was instrumental in arranging for thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit to be there when it happened. And he was with my adar when we camped on the edge of Erebor demanding reparation from Thorin."

"So you were at the Battle of Five Armies."

"Yes. It was the first battle I had ever been in with Men as our allies against Dwarves." Legolas gave Estel a wry look. "Elves and Dwarves do not get along very well."

Estel choked on the tea he was drinking. "The understatement of the Age, surely."

Legolas only laughed. Shortly thereafter they finished their meal and in due course they were entering a salle used for sparring during the inclement weather. They were alone today and spent an agreeable morning working out. Estel had not had much time for practice while recovering from the orc attack and felt out of shape, but Legolas assured him that that was not so.

"I think with a little more sparring you will be back in form, mellon nîn," Legolas commented at one point. "Your brothers and Glorfindel have taught you well."

They stopped in plenty of time to change into fresh clothing before going to luncheon. By now the snow had stopped. After eating they made their way towards the stables to find their horses. Legolas’ horse, a roan named Rocharn, was saddleless, but one of the ostlers was about to place a saddle on Mithfaron when they arrived. Estel assured the ellon that he was just as comfortable riding bareback as any elf.

"Mithfaron has been Imladris trained," he said in explanation and the ellon put the saddle away, giving Estel a look that clearly said that he was skeptical that any mortal was capable of riding elf-style. Estel ignored him, speaking softly to his horse who answered with a wicker of reproach for his young master.

"I think he is not happy that you left the path, mellon nîn," Legolas said with a laugh.

Estel smiled ruefully. "I seem to be spending a great deal of time lately apologizing to my horse."

As they were leading the horses out Estel wondered aloud about the lack of guards, which normally would accompany the prince wherever he went.

Legolas shook his head. "We are not traveling far today. I told Adar that we wanted to have some time alone. He was not happy about it, but as the weather should hold he agreed, however reluctantly. Come, let us go."

With that they mounted and Legolas led them along a path that skirted the river on its way towards Esgaroth. While it was no longer snowing the sky was still heavily overcast and the sun was weak and watery where it peeked out from behind the clouds, yet the day was lovely nonetheless. The blanket of new snow gave the land a pristine look. The air was redolent with pine and balsam and a red-wing flew from tree to tree, its scarlet feathers standing out against the white and grey of the landscape, its whooping trill loud in the snow-silenced afternoon.

"There is a stretch up ahead that is open enough to allow us a good run," Legolas said, pointing, and the land did indeed open into a large field and the path widened. With a shout, Legolas gave his horse permission to run and Mithfaron was not far behind. Estel shouted in glee, glad to have a chance to run without orcs after him. By the time they reached the other side, both horses and men were in fine fettle.

They spent another hour or so wandering, racing each other across snow fields whenever they found them, or trotting companionably alongside each other talking of this or that or not talking at all. Legolas commented at one point that Mithfaron had apparently forgiven Estel.

"He is a very forgiving creature, aren’t you boy?" Estel replied, patting his steed on his neck. Mithfaron wickered and nodded in agreement and the two men laughed. By now they were heading back to the Stronghold, though not along the same path. The sky, full of snow clouds, was darkening. Snow flakes began to drift slowly downward, then the snowfall quickened until the sky was white with it. The two riders pulled up their hoods.

"It is coming down in earnest now," Legolas said, eyeing the sky with a scowl. "We best make a straight dash for the Stronghold or we may be forced to wait it out."

So saying, he gave his horse a soft command and the horse began to canter, setting a ground-covering pace. Even so, Estel was hard pressed to keep up and only the fact that Mithfaron was indeed Imladris trained allowed him to stay apace with Legolas. Soon, sight was limited to the tips of his horse’s ears.

"How much further?" Estel shouted above the wind when they stopped momentarily to give the horses a rest.

"We cannot be more than a mile from the Stronghold. Stay close to me, Aragorn."

Estel nodded and they continued, though more slowly than either of them liked. Yet, both Rocharn and Mithfaron were elvish bred and Rocharn, at least, would know his way back to his own stables, or so Estel hoped. After about fifteen minutes the squall slowed and they could now see where they were going. Trees that had been lost to view were now visible and Legolas was quickly able to ascertain their location.

"The Stronghold is that way," he said, pointing in a particular direction across an open field. "Beyond those trees there there is another clearing and then a small copse and then the Stronghold. We should be there shortly."

Estel nodded his understanding but said nothing. He had to take Legolas’ word that what he said was true, for the clearing they were in looked no different from any of the other clearings they had come across. He knew that if he’d been out here alone without Legolas or any of the other Woodland Elves, he would have been totally lost, perhaps fatally so.

They took advantage of the lull in the storm to make better time and were soon among the trees. It proved to be a narrow band of woods separating the two clearings and then they were out and crossing the next clearing just as the wind picked up again and another squall hit them, blinding them with white. By now Estel was nearly frozen and had long ago stopped trying to brush the snow off his cloak. He could no longer see the trees towards which they had been heading and thought they should have reached them by this time, yet Mithfaron continued plodding through the drifts.

Suddenly, he heard Rocharn’s neigh and then Mithfaron stopped and no amount of urging on Estel’s part could force the horse onward. Estel was tempted to dismount but prudence won out over curiosity and he remained where he was. Peering through the blinding snow he could just make out the dim shape of Legolas’ horse standing somewhat ahead and to his right. Then he detected movement ahead of him, something making its way through the storm. He strained his eyes to see and was tempted to call out to Legolas, but did not think even elvish ears could hear anything above the wind. There was a faint glow as of fire moving through the midafternoon darkness. It seemed to be Man-high, but Estel could not imagine what it could be, for it did not flicker as if it were a torch, which on further reflection would have guttered out in such a wind. The glow made its steady way towards them, and then as it drew near, Estel could see that it was a light atop a staff carried by a man in grey robes and a pointed hat that blended well with the grey-white of the snow about them.

He felt a frisson of something akin to fear as the man approached, though why, he could not say. He sensed no evil emanating from the man but he could sense a power that he had encountered only once before and that recently. It reminded him of Radagast.

Legolas had not moved but as the figure came abreast of them, he dismounted gracefully. The man, bent somewhat against the wind, straightened and Estel could see dark eyes that reflected something deeper than joy, for all that the face appeared deeply lined and careworn.

Legolas bowed. "Mae govannen, Mithrandir. What are you doing out in this storm?"

"Ah, Prince Legolas, mae govannen. Why, I came looking for you and your companion, of course. Now, be good lads and follow me and try not to get lost again."

Estel had dismounted during this exchange and joined Legolas, feeling bemused. Legolas laughed, the sound of which was like a clear bell that shook the snow from nearby branches. "We were never lost to begin with, my lord. I knew exactly where we were at all times."

"Hmph. Well, you may think so, but in truth, your adar’s Stronghold is back that way." Mithrandir pointed over Estel’s left shoulder towards a stand of trees that they had passed while crossing the clearing. Estel thought he saw Legolas blush, though in the twilight it was hard to tell.

"Are you sure, my lord?" Estel ventured to ask.

Mithrandir stared at the young Man with a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Son, I’ve been traveling through Thranduil’s realm off and on for nigh on two thousand years. I think I know my way around rather well by now. Come, we are wasting time and I promised your edair that I would see you safely back home. Please don’t make me out to be a liar."

Estel didn’t know if he should be insulted or amused by the Wizard’s tone, but decided to err on the side of caution and smiled. Mithrandir nodded. "Good, good. Follow me now."

Before they could say another word, Mithrandir moved past Estel holding his staff high for them to follow. By now the snow had actually stopped, but the evening was advancing and it was nearly too dark for Estel to see. Soon, only the glow of the Wizard’s staff was visible to him, bobbing along ahead of them. Legolas did not speak but followed behind Estel and the mortal hoped that the prince would not be too angry.

Soon they were within the woods and for the first time there was a discernable trail, narrow but well defined and easy to follow. The path wound its way between the trees until they came into a clearing that was almost in the same direction that they had been heading when Mithrandir found them. Stepping out of the copse, Estel espied torches flickering in the middle distance and for the first time in some hours he heard the sound of running water.

"There, what did I tell you, heh?" Mithrandir exclaimed in satisfaction as he waited for Estel and Legolas to catch up with him. He used his staff to point towards the causeway. "And if I’m not mistaken, there are Thranduil and Elrond waiting for us."

The three of them moved across the clearing towards the causeway. A single word from both Legolas and Estel sent their respective horses off towards the stables while they followed Mithrandir across to the Great Gate. Now Estel could see that Thranduil and Elrond were indeed waiting for them, as were Glorfindel and Nessiel. There were expressions of relief on all their faces.

"Where did you find them, Mithrandir?" Thranduil asked as they approached.

"Not far, not far. They were nearly home when I found them, though heading in a slightly wrong direction. Easy enough to do in such a storm. But they are both well, if a little frozen."

"Why did you not hole up somewhere, iôn nîn?" Thranduil asked Legolas as the prince shook the snow off his cloak. "You should know better than to wander through such a storm."

Legolas looked down, tight-lipped, as if struggling not to say anything he would later regret. Mithrandir intervened. "Now, Thranduil, don’t badger the lad. I’m sure as soon as he realized they had taken a wrong turn, Legolas would have done just that. Neither of these lads is ignorant of woodscraft after all. Let’s get them inside and warmed up. You can berate them to your hearts’ content later."

Thranduil looked as if he would like to protest but Elrond took matters into his own hands by taking Estel by the arm and leading him inside. "A hot bath for you, iôn nîn, and something warm to eat, then into bed. I’m afraid there won’t be a welcoming feast for you tonight."

Estel tried to protest but a series of sneezes silenced him. Nessiel gave him a knowing look and with a small smile said, "Lord Elrond is correct, Dúnadan. Bed is the best place for you. Tomorrow is Yule and you don’t want to be ill for that now, do you?"

Estel shook his head and meekly followed his adar back to his suite. Within an hour he had bathed and eaten a light meal and drunk some willow bark tea mixed with mîdhanor, for he had begun coughing and sniffling while in his bath.

Elrond and Glorfindel hovered over him as he readied for bed but neither said anything other than casual comments on the morrow’s festivities. Estel wondered at that. As he climbed into bed with Elrond fussing over the pillows he finally spoke.

"Aren’t you going to yell at me?"

Both Elrond and Glorfindel looked at him with amusement, their eyes glinting with some undefined emotion. Finally Elrond answered him.

"Did you do anything to warrant being yelled at?"

"Belegond would have gone up one side of me and down the other in a similar situation, Chieftain or no."

The two elves chuckled, both well aware of Belegond’s habits. "Well, I’m not Belegond, and what happened was hardly your fault," Elrond said. "In fact, it’s hardly Legolas’ fault either. Even Thranduil was taken by surprise by the intensity of the storm and thinks there is more at play here than meets the eye."

Estel just stared at Elrond at that but before he had a chance to comment he sneezed and then had a coughing fit. Elrond frowned and glanced at Glorfindel who merely shook his head slightly. As Estel settled back into bed the elf-lord leaned over him, placing a hand gently on his forehead.

"If you will permit me, I will put you into healing sleep so you will be more refreshed by tomorrow."

Estel nodded, touched that his adar asked his permission first, for he well remembered as a child how Elrond would consult Gilraen first before placing him in healing sleep when the healer felt it was warranted. Elrond smiled and Estel could feel himself drifting off with the sound of Glorfindel softly singing a hymn to Elbereth.

****

Outside Estel’s suite Mithrandir leaned on his staff, looking none the worse for wear in spite of having gone into the storm to look for Legolas and Estel. He looked up as Elrond and Glorfindel came out, neither elf exhibiting any surprise at seeing him.

"So that is Isildur’s Heir," Mithrandir said musingly as the three moved across the hall to Elrond’s suite.

"Yes," Elrond replied as he went to a sideboard and began pouring out wine for them all. "Aragorn son of Arathorn, Sixteenth Chieftain of the Dúnedain, heir to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor." He turned to hand Mithrandir a goblet. "My son," he ended simply and the Wizard raised an eyebrow but otherwise did not speak.

"This was not the way I had intended for you two to meet," Elrond continued somewhat sardonically. "Certainly not with you rescuing him and Legolas from a snowstorm."

Mithrandir chuckled. "I would not fret, mellon nîn. What I have seen of the lad impresses me greatly. He did not appear panicky or worried about the storm."

"I should hope not," Glorfindel exclaimed in mock anger. "Not after all I’ve done to teach him what he needs to know about such things. He was an apt pupil, better than some ellyn I’ve had to teach."

"Have you ever told him that, Glorfindel?" Elrond asked, smiling.

"Of course not! Honestly Elrond, what do you take me for? Last thing the boy needs to hear."

"A boy no longer," Elrond said reluctantly, suddenly saddened by the shortness of his foster son’s childhood and the knowledge that Estel’s life from here on out would be fraught with danger and loneliness. There was already a loss of innocence, clearly discernible to him when Estel had come home earlier in the autumn after being among his own people for several years. Only Elrond’s summons had brought him to Imladris, otherwise Estel would still be among the Dúnedain, organizing patrols and seeing to the welfare of the villages.

Mithrandir watched the play of emotions flitting across Elrond’s face as he contemplated his foster son’s destiny. "They all grow up eventually, Elrond, even elflings." The Wizard’s tone was sympathetic. He had watched young Legolas mature over the last millennium and had seen the children of Men grow old and it was a wonder to him. He would never know the generative powers of the Eruhíni, yet he felt as if they were all his children.

Elrond simply nodded and Glorfindel placed a sympathetic hand on his friend’s shoulder.

"Well, tomorrow is Yule and while there will be little time once the festivities begin to talk perhaps I can arrange for Aragorn to spend some time with me alone anyway, heh?" Mithrandir put his goblet down and stood up. "I think I will speak to Thranduil about it. I will see you both tomorrow then."

The elves stood and bowed to the Wizard and Glorfindel saw him to the door. "Good night, Olórin," the golden-haired elf whispered.

The Wizard smiled at him and winked. If Elrond noticed the light of Aman glowing from Glorfindel more brightly than usual as he closed the door behind the Wizard, the Lord of Imladris made no comment.

****

Ithron (plural ithryn): Wizard. The Sindarin form of the Quenya istar/istari.  

Farn: Enough.

Nenith: Plural of naneth: Mother.

Edair: Plural of adar: Father.

Eruhíni: (Quenya) Children of Eru; the Sindarin form is Eruhîn.

XI: Have Yourself a Merry Little Penninor

A/N: Dialogue in italics in this and in subsequent chapters indicates the person is speaking Westron rather than Sindarin.

****

The next morning Estel felt much better. When Legolas did not come to escort him to the dining hall, he decided to make his own way there. He stopped at the infirmary on the way so Nessiel could look at his stitches.

"You’re looking much better this morning than you did last night, Lord Aragorn," Nessiel said as he came in.

Estel shrugged. "Adar placed me in healing sleep."

The healer nodded and removed the bandage from his head. "I do not think you will need this bandage anymore, Lord Aragorn," the healer said. "You appear to heal more quickly than most Men, however, I will not remove the stitches for another two days." She dismissed him with a smile.

Thanking the healer, Estel continued to the dining hall. There were not as many people there as usual, probably, he reflected, because it being Yule many of the elves were busy preparing for the festivities. While the elves celebrated the New Year in the month of Gwaeron, it had become a tradition in both Imladris and the Woodland Realm to celebrate the Yuletide with their Edain allies. And truth to tell, elves were not averse to celebrating for any reason or no reason.

"Penninor ’elir, mellon nîn."

Estel looked up from his plate to see Legolas standing before him, a cautious smile on his face. Estel smiled back. "Penninor ’elir, Legolas."

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"I am well, and you?"

Legolas shrugged. "Adar gave me a stern lecture about being irresponsible, but otherwise I am fine."

Estel could not help smiling and Legolas gave him a blank stare. "You find it amusing?"

"Only because I’ve been the victim of a stern lecture once or twice myself and even my brothers who have seen an entire Age have been given stern lectures either by Adar or Glorfindel or, Valar help us, Erestor from time to time. If nothing else, Legolas, you’re in good company."

"I would think you are in very good company, indeed," came a voice full of amusement.

Estel and Legolas both started and then blushed. Neither had noticed Mithrandir’s approach. Legolas bowed and Estel had the presence of mind to stand and make his own bow.

"Penninor ’elir, Lord Mithrandir," Estel said. Legolas echoed him.

"Now, now, lads. Let’s not be so formal. Mithrandir will do or even Gandalf."

Both Estel and Legolas gave the Wizard a questioning look. Mithrandir smiled. "Gandalf. They call me that in the Bree-land and among the Periannath, as well as in Dale."

"Would you care to join us, Lo... I mean, Mithrandir?" Estel asked.

"I think I will," Mithrandir said, taking a seat and placing his hat and staff on the floor next to him.

"Allow me," Legolas said and went to the sideboard to fill a couple of plates, placing one before the Wizard while Estel resumed his own seat.

For a few moments the three busied themselves with eating, though Estel noticed that Legolas was pushing his food around his plate rather than actually consuming it.

"What’s wrong, mellon nîn?" he asked Legolas quietly.

The elf kept his eyes on his plate and shrugged. "Nothing."

"Then why are you not eating?"

Now Legolas looked up and Estel forced himself not to look away, for there was a light in the elf’s eyes that most mortals would have found impossible to behold for any length of time, but Estel had been raised among elves and so was not so easily affected.

"Well?" he asked, refusing to be intimidated.

Legolas sighed, relenting, and returned his eyes to his plate, but still did not speak. Estel glanced at Mithrandir, who had followed the exchange with some interest but had not intervened. The Wizard returned Estel’s look with one of his own, then turned his attention to the elf.

"You’re acting like an elfling, Legolas," Mithrandir said gruffly. "I thought I taught you better than that."

Legolas blushed and bit his lip but refused to look up. Now Estel was alarmed. He could not fathom what could be troubling his friend and found it disconcerting. However, years of dealing with young Dúnedain recruits had taught him one or two things. Affecting a casual approach, he drained his teacup and shrugged.

"Fine by me. If you’d rather sulk, we can leave you to it." So saying he started to rise but stopped when Legolas put a hand on his arm. Estel glanced at Mithrandir who merely smiled back at him and sat back down, willing to wait until the elf was ready to talk.

"I am sorry for yesterday," Legolas finally said, his voice low and his eyes still downcast.

"Sorry for what?" Estel asked in confusion.

Now Legolas looked up and his expression was a mixture of anger and self-reproach. "I should never have missed the way back to the Stronghold. It is unconscionable."

Estel stole a glance at Mithrandir who had suddenly decided that his bacon and eggs were the most interesting sight he had ever seen. Estel sighed. And I thought I had problems, he said to himself. "Legolas, what happened yesterday could have happened to anyone, even an elf. Just because you’re immortal doesn’t make you infallible. All you did was go in the wrong direction in a snowstorm. I, on the other hand, fell off a cliff during one. So you have nothing on me, mellon nîn."

Both elf and Wizard stared at the Dúnadan — Legolas in shock, while Mithrandir simply looked amused, though there was a wondering expression in his eyes as well.

"How—"

"Ask my horse. He can give you all the gory details." Estel’s tone was half joking and half deprecating.

At that Mithrandir actually laughed. "Well said, my boy, well said. You should listen to your friend young Legolas. We all make mistakes. Dwelling on them is merely a type of self-indulgence."

"Besides," added Estel with a teasing smile. "That was yesterday. This is today. Just think of all the new mistakes you can make before the day’s end."

Mithrandir snorted at that and began laughing. Legolas tried to maintain a sober demeanor but failed and soon all three were laughing.

"Much better," Mithrandir finally said. "You younglings take things much too seriously. So what are your plans for the day, heh?"

Estel shrugged and looked at Legolas who grimaced. "Adar has decided I need more experience in diplomacy and has commanded me to see to our guests who arrived yesterday from Dale and Lake-town. I fear I will be occupied for most of the day until the festivities tonight."

"Ah, diplomacy," Estel said somewhat facetiously. "Should we be worried?"

Legolas just stared at Estel for a long moment before realizing his friend was joking and smiled.

"In that case," Mithrandir said, ignoring the interplay between the two friends, "I would appreciate your company, Lord Aragorn, if you have no other plans."

"I would be honored, and please, there is no need to be so formal. Aragorn will do."

Mithrandir nodded. "Then Aragorn it is. I must speak with Elrond and Thranduil first. Why don’t we meet again in an hour’s time in the Great Hall?"

Estel nodded and shortly thereafter Mithrandir and Legolas took their leave of him. He wondered how to occupy himself for the next hour and decided to go outside for some fresh air and to check on Mithfaron. Returning to his suite, he grabbed his cloak, but elected to leave his sword behind, though he did not go completely unarmed. The guards at the Gate nodded in greeting when he told them where he was going.

"Be wary, my lord," one of them said. "There was a freeze last night and the ground is icy. Take care crossing the causeway. Stay in the center and you will be fine."

"Le hannon," Estel said and with a short bow went outside.

He found himself wrapping his cloak tightly around him for the air was brittle with cold and the sun was not warm. About him the ground was a blanket of white and the boughs of the trees hung heavy with ice. The sky was clear and a deep shade of blue. He made his way slowly across the causeway, keeping himself in the center. If any elves had crossed over there was no sign, nor did Estel expect to see any. His were the only tracks that were made.

Inside the stables Mithfaron whickered a greeting as Estel handed him a small apple he had taken from the breakfast sideboard. Tologyll and Asfaloth, in nearby stalls, gave their own greetings, recognizing the mortal as belonging to them.

"Yes, yes, I have not forgotten you either," Estel said with a grin as he pulled out two more apples to give to Elrond’s and Glorfindel’s steeds, who accepted the offerings with alacrity. He even had one for the packhorse, who had been feeling left out of all the attention, demanding that Estel scratch his ears as he munched on the apple. Estel chuckled at that.

"What are you doing here? And why are you bothering the elves’ horses?"

Estel turned at the sound of the voice speaking to him in Westron. It belonged to a Man, perhaps a decade or so older than he. He was dressed in warm and serviceable travel clothes and carried a sword. Estel suspected he might be a guard, for he carried himself like one.

"I asked you a question, youngling. You are not permitted to trouble the horses belonging to the elves. The horses of Dale and Lake-town have been lodged in another section of these stables."

Estel raised an eyebrow at the highhandedness of the Man. "Then why are you here?"

The Man’s face darkened in anger and he started to reach for his sword. Estel stepped back but was saved from having to do anything by the arrival of Laslaerion and Galadhor. The two elves took in the situation and immediately stepped between Estel and the Man.

"Lord Aragorn, is there a problem?" Laslaerion asked quietly.

Estel gave the elven guard a wry look. "This Man appears to think I should not be bothering the horses."

Both elves raised an eyebrow at that and Galadhor turned to the Man who had started at the seemingly sudden appearance of the two armed elves and had looked perplexed when the young upstart in front of him began speaking in the elvish tongue, which none of the Men from Dale or Lake-town spoke with any fluency, save Lord Bard and the Master. Speaking in careful Westron, the elf said, "My friend, this is Lord Aragorn of the Dúnedain. He is a guest of King Thranduil and this is his horse."

"But he isn’t an elf." The Man sounded honestly confused.

The two elves started grinning at the tone of the Man’s voice. Before anyone could speak though, two more elves approached; one being Legolas, the other was Glorfindel. Both were dressed for riding.

"Laslaerion, Galadhor, what is going on?" The elven prince looked surprised to see Estel and another Man there.

But it was Estel who explained the situation, speaking in Westron for the benefit of the Man, who, it turned out, when Legolas questioned him, was named Edred and was the captain of Lord Bard’s troops. Legolas frowned but Glorfindel only looked amused. Edred looked completely out of his depth.

"Really, Estel, your adar and I are going to have to put you on a leash if you don’t start behaving yourself," Glorfindel said with a wicked grin. The other elves, including Legolas, laughed lightly at that. "And what are you doing walking around unarmed? I thought I had taught you better than that."

"I am not unarmed, Glorfindel," Estel said quietly, refusing to be baited. "I came out here to say hello to Mithfaron and then return to meet with Mithrandir."

Glorfindel shook his head in mock disbelief. "Elflings."

Estel laughed. "You can get away with calling my brothers that, Glorfi, for all that they are nearly three thousand years old, but you can’t call me that. I don’t have the ears for it."

Galadhor and Laslaerion snickered at that, and Legolas was smiling broadly. Glorfindel shot them all a sharp look which was ruined by the fact that he was finding it difficult not to laugh himself.

"That’s Lord Glorfi to you, insolent child."

By now Edred was beginning to regret having ever spoken to this Lord Aragorn. He had never heard of these Dúnedain. He had mistaken the youngster, as he seemed, for one of the Master of Lake-town’s entourage, but now it appeared that he was a lord in his own right who spoke easily with elf-lords and princes in their own tongue. He had never met any mortal who spoke so familiarly with elves as this Man did. He was not sure he approved.

As if they suddenly remembered the other mortal’s presence, the four elves turned their attention to Edred, who began sweating under the combined stares of the Firstborn. Estel, however, took pity on the Man, who had only been doing his duty, for it turned out that some of the younger members of the parties from Dale and Lake-town were wont to sneak into the stables and try to see the elven-bred horses. Edred had been left on guard to prevent that. Estel moved towards the mortal guard and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You must forgive us, Captain," he said, nodding towards the elves, who looked on with amused expressions. "Lord Glorfindel helped raise me and Prince Legolas is a friend. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain. My people live in the West across the Misty Mountains."

Edred bowed his head in greeting. "Forgive me, lord. I was not aware that any other Men were here. I thought you were from Lake-town."

"An honest enough mistake I suppose," Estel said.

Just then, Elrond appeared accompanied by a dark-haired Man. Like Legolas and Glorfindel, they were dressed for riding. Elrond raised an eyebrow at the tableau before him. "Estel, what have you done now?"

Estel blushed. "Nothing, Adar. I was just bringing an apple for Mithfaron."

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel who merely shrugged. Deciding it wasn’t worth making a scene over, he switched to Westron. "King Bard, may I present my foster son, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain."

Estel gave the King of Dale a bow, but the Man waved his hand in dismissal. "It is I who should be bowing to you, my lord. I never thought to ever meet one of the Dúnedain, much less Isildur’s Heir. Penninor ’elir." Bard gave Estel a bow, much to Edred’s surprise.

"Penninor ’elir, aran Bard. I am glad to finally meet you as well."

"Will you be joining us, then, my lord?" Bard asked. "We are going riding."

"Thank you, no," Estel said. "I promised Mithrandir that I would spend the day with him."

"Mithrandir?" Bard frowned. "Oh, you mean Gandalf. Well, perhaps another time."

With that, Estel bade them farewell and giving them all a bow, left. As he was making his way out of the stables, though, he heard Bard questioning Edred and hoped the Man did not get into too much trouble on his account. He himself had found the situation amusing rather than insulting and looked forward to sharing the story with Halbarad and Belegond when next he saw them.

Returning to the Stronghold, he made his way to the Great Hall. It was bustling with elves decorating the hall for the upcoming festival. There was much singing and joking among the ellyn and ellith. Estel weaved his way among them, smiling and giving greetings as he went until he came to where Mithrandir was standing before a tapestry depicting elves dancing in a woodland glade under moonlight. Estel stood beside the Wizard to examine the tapestry himself.

"I remember when this was made," Mithrandir said, not taking his eyes off the tapestry. "Legolas’ naneth wove it. She is an excellent weaver and her work is highly prized among the elves." He turned to face Estel with a small smile. "In fact, I believe at least one of her tapestries hangs in Imladris and even Galadriel and Celeborn have one hanging in their main reception hall."

"Do you know which one hangs in Imladris? I confess, I’ve not paid much attention." Estel smiled wryly. "As a child, I was more interested in playing with my bow and arrows and climbing trees than looking at pieces of cloth, however interesting the scene."

Mithrandir chuckled and nodded knowingly. "When you return to Imladris, take a walk down the hall between Elrond’s study and the Hall of Fire. There is a tapestry on one wall depicting the rising of Ithil over Doriath."

Estel’s eyes brightened. "Oh yes. I know that one. Adar used to tell me stories about Ithil when I was very young. In fact, I was very worried once that Menelvagor might shoot Tilion by mistake instead of the Stag."

The two chuckled over that and Mithrandir turned to leave the Great Hall, and Estel followed. They made their way behind the dais on which stood Thranduil’s throne to where a passageway led into the interior of the Stronghold. Estel was tempted to ask outright why Mithrandir wished for him to accompany him for the day, but decided the Wizard would tell him in his own time. He suspected that this was the reason for their trip in the first place, for Estel to meet with the Ithron Vithren.

Mithrandir led Estel to a part of the Stronghold he had not yet visited. The passageways were somewhat narrower and less ornately decorated, yet beautiful in their simplicity of design nonetheless. Estel suspected that most of what he saw was elvish rather than dwarvish work. At one point they began to climb. The slope of the passageway was not steep but the way seemed long and Estel wondered if it led to the summit. Perhaps, he thought, there was a look-out there. He imagined such a view would be spectacular.

At last they came to the end, but there was no sentry’s look-out. Instead they came to a room that opened up somewhat, with a high ceiling and richly carved pillars. There were no tapestries on the walls, but each was painted with various woodland scenes in bright colors that were somehow soothing to look at. In the center of the high ceiling there was a large skylight made of a single cut crystal. Sunlight streamed through the faceted skylight so that the entire room shimmered in many hues. It was almost like being under a waterfall, but this one made of light. Below the skylight was a small fountain whose waters changed colors with the light. Estel gasped and stood stock still at the sight.

Mithrandir smiled knowingly, allowing the young Man time to enjoy the sight for a moment before speaking. "This has always been my favorite room in the Stronghold. The elves call it Sam Eiliant."

"It’s beautiful." Estel whispered in awe and walked towards the fountain to stand directly under the light streaming down, his hands stretched out on either side of him, palms up as if to catch the light. His face was upturned, his eyes closed and a smile of delight lit his face. Then, opening his eyes he turned slowly around, drinking in the multicolored play of light as if it were indeed life-giving water. The Wizard stood there silently watching the young Dúnadan, his expression veiled by his broad-brimmed hat. After a couple of minutes, Estel seemed to come back to himself and he stopped turning to look at Mithrandir.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Mithrandir’s lips quirked in a smile. "Why? I wanted to see how you reacted to the light."

Estel looked at the Wizard in confusion. "I don’t understand."

"Nor do I expect you to," Mithrandir said with a smile and gesturing towards a bench that stood just outside the pool of light between two pillars, indicated that he wished to sit down. Estel followed him.

"This room is rarely shown to mortals. Not even King Bard or the Master of Lake-town have ever been here."

Estel looked skeptical at that, but said nothing.

"You doubt me, Aragorn? But I assure you, few mortals have ever sat in this chamber. In fact, you may well be the first in over a millennium."

"I still don’t understand, Mithrandir," Estel said, looking around the chamber. It was a beautiful place, peaceful and soul-refreshing, true, but it was just a room with only a few benches between the pillars. Estel suspected the chamber was a place of meditation for the elves. He wondered what it might look like with moonlight streaming through the skylight and gave a slight shiver, not of fear, but of excitement, though he could not understand the emotion running through him at the thought.

He felt a hand on his arm and looked back at Mithrandir to find himself falling into the depths of the Wizard’s eyes, which held him there almost against his will. Dark and bright at the same time, the Wizard's eyes were full of memories that staggered the young mortal. Estel was mesmerized by what he saw there and thought he might never stop falling. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Mithrandir seemed to move slightly and Estel found himself released from whatever spell had held him, gasping as if he had run for leagues. He felt shaken and disoriented. The Wizard began rubbing Estel’s back and spoke softly.

"Take a deep breath, child. You’ll feel better soon. Lasto na lam nîn."

Estel took a couple of deep breaths and concentrated on Mithrandir’s voice, which was quiet and reassuring. The soothing motion of the Wizard’s hand rubbing his back also helped to ground him. After a few moments he felt more himself and Mithrandir stopped his ministrations, sitting back to examine Estel in the shimmering light.

He had seen what Elrond and Glorfindel and all the other elves, even Thranduil, had seen when they looked at Aragorn. The light of stars was in this one’s eyes, though Mithrandir suspected that Aragorn did not see them himself whenever he looked in a mirror. But they were there for those who had eyes to see. None of Aragorn’s Dúnedain ancestors whom Mithrandir had known, not even his own father Arathorn, had had the light of stars shining so brightly in their eyes. This one was definitely different.

"Wh-what happened, Mithrandir?" Estel finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mithrandir looked at him in sympathy. "I apologize for that, Aragorn. I needed to learn something. Please forgive me, mellon neth nîn."

Estel swallowed. "And what did you learn?"

Mithrandir smiled warmly. "I learned many things, but the most important thing I learned was that your adar named you rightly." His expression darkened somewhat. "You have a long and dangerous road ahead of you, Aragorn. Many years as Men count them will pass before you are ready to assume the kingship, if ever. Your life will be lonely and you will have few whom you can trust implicitly. I hope, in time, I will be one of those few."

Estel nodded but said nothing, lost in thought.

"I want you to know that you can tell me anything," Mithrandir said after a few minutes of silence. "Fear not to speak your heart to me. I will hold all you say in strictest confidence. I suspect," — and here he gave the mortal a piercing glance — "that there are few, if any, even among your own people to whom you feel free to divulge your deepest feelings. I think even Elrond does not know your thoughts on certain things, though he may guess."

Estel said nothing to that but sat staring into the shimmering light before him. Finally, he began to speak, softly at first and hesitatingly, but then with more confidence.

"About five years ago adar told me of my true heritage. I found myself upset, confused and not a little frightened. All of a sudden I did not know who I was anymore. I had to get away from the house and ended up wandering in a nearby wood. For some reason I started singing part of the Lay of Lúthien and then I saw her... Lúthien, herself, or so I deemed. I thought I had entered into a dream. I ran after her crying ‘Tinuviel!, Tinuviel!’ just as Beren had. She stopped and turned and we spoke. She was no dream, but Elrond’s daughter, Arwen, lately come from Lothlórien. I...I fell in love with her right then and there...."

And Estel told Mithrandir about his first meeting with Arwen and the years that followed as he learned to lead the Dúnedain as their Chieftain returned to them. As the day lengthened he spoke of his hopes and fears and of things he hardly allowed himself to think on except perhaps in the deepest watches of the night. Mithrandir listened sympathetically, rarely speaking himself, but offering Estel encouragement and permission to speak to the Wizard about his deepest thoughts without censor or blame. The noontide came and went but neither noticed as the light shifted towards the afternoon and the shimmering rainbow begin to dim.

****

Some hours later Estel entered the Great Hall where the Yule festival was being held. It was now decorated with boughs of holly and balsam, which spread their fresh piney scent throughout the Stronghold. Lanterns shaded with paper in many different colors illuminated the hall, and bright ribbons hung everywhere. Estel even spied one or two bunches of mistletoe discretely placed where lovers could meet. Tables were laden with food and drink. All were dressed in festive finery — fur-trimmed brocades and velvets predominating, though here and there were elves dressed in silk. He himself wore a simple tunic of dark grey velvet trimmed with a brocade of green and gold dotted with pearls over a shirt of forest green watered silk, with tight sleeves. His breeches matched his tunic and the soft house boots covering his feet were trimmed with squirrel fur. The outfit had been a gift from Elrond for this occasion. His dark locks were braided elf-style but otherwise were unadorned. He wore no jewelry save for the ring of Barahir.

When Estel had at last begun to wind down after speaking for many hours, Mithrandir had suggested they stop and get some rest before the evening’s festivities. Estel did not realize until that moment how exhausted he felt, yet at the same time, he had felt lighter of heart, almost carefree. His speaking to Mithrandir had been very cathartic and he wondered at that. He doubted he could have revealed himself so fully even to Legolas or his kinsman Halbarad, with whom he shared much, for they were close to the same age. Mithrandir had merely smiled and thanked him for the trust he had shown in speaking to him. Then he led Estel back to his own suite of rooms and the young Man fell into a deep and refreshing sleep almost as soon as he lay down, waking only when Elrond called to him. He was surprised to find he had only slept for an hour or so, for he felt as if he had slept an entire night through. Elrond had given him a look of understanding.

"I trust your time with Mithrandir was well spent, iôn nîn," was all he said and Estel merely nodded, not wishing to say more. What had passed between himself and Mithrandir would remain between them and Estel suspected that that was what Elrond had hoped for him and felt grateful for the elf-lord.

Now, freshly bathed and dressed, Estel stood near the entrance of the hall looking for a familiar face. He finally saw Legolas approaching. The elf prince was dressed in soft green velvet trimmed with fur dyed a darker green. He wore a circlet of silver filigree with a single star sapphire in the center. His hair had been carefully braided and his eyes glowed with pleasure.

"I am glad to see you, mellon nîn," he said in greeting.

"And I am glad to see you," answered Estel. "How was your ride?"

"Cold." Legolas laughed lightly and Estel raised an eyebrow at that and smiled.

"And how is it that you were cold, mellon nîn? I did not think elves ever got cold."

"You never crossed the Grinding Ice, youngling." Legolas and Estel turned to see Glorfindel standing there with a wide grin on his face. The elf-lord was dressed in dark blue brocade trimmed with white fur over a shirt that was a shade or two lighter than his tunic embroidered with yellow flowers at the neck and wrists. "Now if you want to talk about cold..."

"Not tonight, Glorfindel. I actually want to enjoy myself tonight."

Glorfindel gave Estel a mock glare. "Well, I think I will go and find someone who actually appreciates one of my stories."

Legolas smiled. "Oh, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your stories, Lord Glorfindel—"

"It’s just that we’ve heard them all too many times to count," Estel finished for him and the two friends laughed.

"Hmph. Elflings. No respect for their elders."

"My sentiment exactly."

All three turned to see Thranduil approaching with Mithrandir, Elrond and Lord Bard. A portly older Man with them must be the Master of Lake-town, Estel thought. He, Legolas and Glorfindel bowed to Thranduil in greeting. Thranduil made the introductions. The older Man did indeed turn out to be the Master of Lake-town, whose name was Gorlas and whose family had long been merchants. He had only recently become Master and was feeling somewhat out of his depth among such company. He spoke little, and then in quiet, diffident tones. His Sindarin was adequate, a necessary requisite for the position of Master, but it was not as fluent as Bard’s.

Once the introductions were made, Thranduil turned to Glorfindel. "So, my son was being disrespectful, was he?" he asked in a mock serious tone.

"Oh yes," Glorfindel said with a straight face. "I was about to tell him and Estel about crossing the Grinding Ice, but they claim to have heard that story already."

"Indeed?" The King of the Woodland Realm raised an eyebrow at his son, who refused to look at his father. Estel noticed though that Elrond was attempting to hide a smile and even Mithrandir was smirking. "Then I forgive him for his rudeness," Thranduil finally said with a laugh. "It’s a boring story."

"Boring?" Glorfindel repeated in affronted surprise. "None of my stories are boring, Thranduil. I’ve spent too many centuries perfecting them."

"That’s why they’re boring," Thranduil retorted.

Elrond and Mithrandir started laughing, and even Legolas was grinning. Estel found himself smiling as well. The other two Men however were not sure how to react to the interplay between the two elf-lords and so maintained more sober demeanors.

"There is one story no one has ever told that I would be interested in hearing though," Legolas said slyly.

"And what story would that be?" Elrond asked, smiling.

"Why Glorfindel and Adar are always arguing with one another."

"We are not always arguing, iôn nîn," Thranduil protested.

"Hmph," Glorfindel replied. "Speak for yourself, Thranduil."

Legolas rolled his eyes and turned to Estel. "See what I mean?"

Estel grinned and leaned towards his friend in a conspiratorial manner, though he spoke loud enough for all to hear. "I think Glorfindel picks fights on purpose because he misses fighting with balrogs."

"My adar isn’t a balrog!" Legolas said in mock anger.

"Well, maybe not," Estel agreed, appearing to think about it. "But perhaps Glorfindel doesn’t know that."

At that Thranduil started laughing and the others joined in, though Glorfindel reached behind Legolas to give Estel a swat on the back of his head for good measure.

"Insolent child!" he said laughingly.

"Come, Aragorn," Legolas said once the laughter had died down. "I would like you to meet some of my friends."

Thranduil nodded. "Yes, go, my children," making a shooing gesture. "We do not stand on ceremony tonight. Enjoy yourselves."

Estel gave the group a bow and then followed Legolas, who headed towards two ellyn and an elleth standing before a table. Estel saw that it was one of the tables where drinks were being served. As they neared, one of the ellon looked up and smiled.

"Greetings, Legolas. Come join us."

"Greetings, Maedrust. This is my friend, Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dúnedain."

The other elves gave Estel their greetings as Legolas introduced them. Besides Maedrust, there was Halgaladh and Eirien. They appeared to be young in the reckoning of the elves and were obviously good friends of their prince.

"Will you join us in some Dorwinion?" Halgaladh asked, indicating the table covered with different kinds of drinks.

Estel saw that besides the famed Dorwinion there were also flagons of ale (probably for the Men) and fruit juices and cider (for the elflings, of which there were few), as well as some other kinds of wine for those who did not wish to indulge in the stronger Dorwinion. Estel was tempted to try the Dorwinion about which he had heard many stories from his brothers and Glorfindel, but his healer’s training took over and he regretfully declined.

"I suffered a head injury only a few days ago," he explained with a sigh. "My healers would have a fit if they knew I was drinking Dorwinion. I had better stick to watered wine or fruit juice for now."

The two ellyn nodded in understanding, though Eirien pouted somewhat. "Do you always do what your healers tell you to do? I think it’s unfair of them to not allow you to have fun tonight."

Estel threw a questioning glance at Legolas who only shrugged. Turning back to the elleth, he answered with a smile. "I am a healer myself, my lady, and I would not dream of questioning their assessment, especially when one of those healers is my adar."

Eirien raised a delicate eyebrow at that. "I’m sure you and your adar are adequate to the task as healers among the Secondborn, though I doubt you can measure up to our own healers in knowledge or ability," the elleth commented haughtily.

All three ellyn looked at her with differing degrees of surprise and embarrassment. Estel just looked stunned. It was Legolas who answered her.

"Lord Aragorn was raised in Imladris as the son of Lord Elrond, Eirien, and was trained as a healer by him. You are presuming too much on too little information."

Eirien had the grace to blush, though she did not apologize. Legolas gave Estel a grimace but Estel just smiled back. He had encountered similar prejudices among some of the Dúnedain when he first came to them, though for different reasons, and he had learned to dismiss them. He could not control how others thought, and so he did not try. He had long decided that he could only be true to himself and others would have to deal with him as best they may.

The two ellyn gave Eirien looks of dismay but otherwise made no comments on her words. Instead they purposely steered the conversation towards discussing an upcoming hunt.

"Perhaps you would care to join us, Lord Aragorn," Halgaladh said as he poured some fruit juice into a goblet and handed it to Estel. "Legolas usually accompanies us."

"I would like that very much, if I am not committed elsewhere."

"And I," added Legolas, taking a sip of the Dorwinion Maedrust had pressed into his hand. Aragorn had insisted that Legolas not forego the heady wine for his sake. "Adar may have other plans for me as well, but if we are free we will join in the hunt."

For the next few moments the four men discussed the various hunts they had been on and the animals they had brought down. Eirien looked decidedly bored by it all, but refused to leave. Estel had the impression from the way she stayed close to Halgaladh that the two of them might have an understanding, though, as he did not see either wearing a betrothal ring, he was not entirely sure.

They had moved away from the tables during their discussion and were standing off to the side when they were interrupted by someone speaking in Westron.

"It’s impolite to speak a language others do not understand." The voice was rough with too much wine taken.

Estel and the elves turned to see four Men approaching them. They appeared to be near his own age though at least one was definitely younger, perhaps only twenty. As early in the evening as it was, he appeared to be already drunk. The other three, though, were not far behind. It was the youngest who had spoken. His companions snickered in a way that Estel knew spelled trouble. He was unsure if the elves would catch on in time.

"That may be true, friend," Estel said quietly, "but as you were not a part of this particular conversation, we were not obliged to speak otherwise."

The youngster looked belligerent and his three friends seemed ready to egg him on. Estel wondered if these Men were from Lake-town or Dale. They did not seem to be of the same caliber as the guard Edred, who, for all his faults, had been courteous once the situation had been explained to him and had been acting responsibly in his duty as a guard. These four just seemed too eager for a fight.

"Do you know who I am?" the young Man asked imperiously.

Estel felt the elves stir at this, but he ignored them. Affecting a surprised look, he asked, "Why? Don’t you?"

The question flustered the four Men somewhat but the youngster recovered more quickly than the others. "Of course I know who I am, you moron!" he shouted, and Estel saw one of the other Men go to his belt knife before he remembered where he was and stopped.

"Well, in that case, why are you asking me?"

At that the elves started laughing, which was a mistake, for that simply infuriated the Men even more, especially the youngster, who, Estel began to think might be the Master’s own son. Something about his eyes reminded the Chieftain of the Dúnedain of Gorlas.

The young Man gave a wordless yell and started swinging, but Estel had known it was coming and ducked. Before even the elves could react, he had come up under the young Man’s arms and held him in a hold that left little doubt as to who was in control. The young Man struggled futilely, and cursed rather fluently; his friends had the presence of mind not to try to interfere, especially when Legolas and the other ellyn stepped between them.

"Calmly, friend," Estel said quietly, keeping his hold on the lad. "Remember where you are. There is a lady present and your words do little to endear us mortals to her."

The ruckus had drawn the attention of Thranduil and those around him. Estel saw them coming and with a quick pressure to the carotid, sent the youngster into oblivion.

"What’s the meaning of this?" Thranduil demanded, his visage dark with suppressed fury. Estel saw that Gorlas looked quite ill and felt sorry for the Man.

"I’m afraid this one has had more Dorwinion than was good for him, my lord. He appeared unsteady on his feet and was in danger of tripping when I caught him. I’m afraid he’s passed out."

Estel forced himself to look at the elven king without flinching. Elves do not lie and he had been taught never to do so, but he had also learned the value of prevaricating when necessary during his years among the Dúnedain.

Thranduil looked at him somewhat suspiciously before turning to his son. "Is this true, Legolas?"

Estel refused to look at his friend and hoped the elven prince would back up his story. It was Yule after all, and Estel saw no point in making things worse for anyone.

"Yes, Adar. Young Garulf should not have been drinking Dorwinion at his age, I think. Lord Aragorn was able to prevent him from suffering any serious injury."

Estel breathed an inner sigh of relief. It was not a lie, though not necessarily the entire truth. Eirien looked as if she might say something contradictory, but a glare from Halgaladh quelled her and she remained silent. The interplay was not lost to Thranduil or any of the other elves. Estel kept his eyes on the king and refused to look at either Elrond or Glorfindel for fear of giving himself away.

Gorlas spoke then to one of the Men who had been accompanying Garulf. "Did I not instruct you to keep my son away from the Dorwinion, Thorstane?"

"Yes, Master, but he wanted to try some and I thought—"

"You obviously did not think at all, any of you." Gorlas turned to Thranduil with an apologetic bow. "I apologize for my son, King Thranduil. His actions were inexcusable. I trust you will put them down to youthful folly."

Thranduil nodded though he did not look satisfied with the explanations he’d been given. "I am willing to overlook your son’s indiscretions for the moment, Master Gorlas. I suggest in the future you keep him under tighter control." With that he gave orders for the hapless youth to be taken to the infirmary where he could sleep off his stupor. Gorlas decided to accompany his son, along with the youngster’s now sheepish looking companions.

Once Gorlas had left Thranduil turned again to Estel with a thin smile. "I do not appreciate being lied to, even by Isildur’s Heir. Even I could see that young fool was causing trouble."

Estel shrugged. "It is Yule, my lord king. I did not wish to have the festivities disrupted by that... that seron-en-orch." He spoke the insult very softly, as if unwilling for any to hear and felt himself blush at his own temerity.

Several elven eyebrows went up at that and Bard actually laughed. Elrond looked especially shocked. "Estel! I never thought to hear such words from your mouth. And we all know that boy did not faint. I suspect you had something to do with it."

But Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal, the smile on his face actually genuine. "Now, now Elrond. The lad’s entitled. Garulf is known for his belligerence. His adar indulges him too much, I fear. Whatever Aragorn did to him was well deserved and more than he deserved."

"I am sorry Adar, my Lord Thranduil." Estel gave them both a short bow.

"Well, well. It’s water under the bridge now," Thranduil said. "Why don’t you elflings run along and have fun? The night is still young."

It was obviously a dismissal and with hasty bows the younger elves and Estel made their retreat. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Estel joined the elves in dancing at one point and Eirien proved to be an excellent partner. She seemed to be less haughty after the encounter with young Garulf and Estel found that he liked her more than he thought he would. Later, when the singing began, Estel joined in, even agreeing to sing a solo piece, a lay about the Fall of Númenor. While his voice was not as beautiful as an elf’s it was clear and pleasant and the elves listened in appreciation.

It was well past midnight, though, when Estel began to flag. Legolas noticed and insisted he retire. Estel was ready to protest but was stopped by a jaw-breaking yawn. Glorfindel, who had been standing nearby came over and speaking as captain to a recruit ordered Estel to bed. Legolas offered to escort him and in a short time they reached Estel’s rooms where Legolas bade him good night. Five minutes later Estel was fast asleep.

****

Penninor: Yule, last day of the year, literally "full-year-day" [pant + în + aur].

Penninor ’elir: Happy Yule.

Aran: King.

Ellon/ellyn: Male elf/elves.

Elleth/ellith: Female elf/elves.

Ithron vithren: Grey Wizard.

Sam Eiliant: Rainbow Chamber.

Lasto na lam nîn: 'Listen to my voice'.

Mellon neth nîn: My young friend.

Seron-en-orch: Orc-lover; a particularly vicious insult in Sindarin.

Note: In 'Appendix A', Aragorn is said to have been singing ‘the Lay of Lúthien’ when he first meets Arwen, not ‘the Lay of Leithian’, as some readers have suggested was meant, basing their assumption on the title given in The Lays of Beleriand. According to Christopher Tolkien, however, the published reading is correct and his father often referred to the poem as ‘Lúthien’. See Reader’s Companion, p. 698.

XII: A-Farad We Will Go

Few elves were up the next morning when Estel made his way to the dining hall, though the kitchen staff were busy enough setting out a sideboard for those who wished for breakfast. Elrond and Glorfindel joined him a short time afterwards. It was the first time the three had sat together for any meal since coming to the Stronghold.

It was while they were finishing their breakfast that Estel looked up to see himself facing Master Gorlas and a very miserable looking Garulf. The lad was looking very white and a bit unsteady. Estel noticed that his father was surreptitiously holding him up by one arm.

"Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel, a good morning to you," the Master said with a small bow after the two elves acknowledged his presence, then he turned to Estel with another bow and said, "Lord Aragorn, my son wishes to say something to you."

Garulf glared at the table between them, not bothering to look up. Gorlas gave him a nudge and the young man muttered something in Westron Estel pretended he couldn’t hear.

"I’m sorry," he said, keeping his expression neutral. "Could you repeat that, please? I didn’t quite catch it."

Garulf’s face reddened with anger as he looked up and said in a louder voice, "I am told I made an ass of myself last night. I apologize for any offense I may have caused you."

"My lord," Gorlas prompted.

"My lord," Garulf echoed him, though Estel could tell he meant it more as an insult than a title of respect, but decided to ignore it and accept the apology. However, when he addressed the young man it was as a captain to a ranger brought before him for discipline and Estel had decided that young Garulf was in sore need of discipline.

"Your offense was less against me than against our hosts. The elves of the Woodland Realm honor us by celebrating our festivals with us and we do well to respect that at all times. And there is a certain elleth to whom you should also apologize. She should not have had to be subjected to the kind of barracks language you used in her presence last night."

Gorlas nodded. "You are correct, Lord Aragorn, and if I knew the lady’s name I would have my son apologize to her and her family."

"Her name is Eirien and she is the daughter of Lord Sadron and Lady Nelluin. Lord Sadron is one of my adar’s closest advisors."

Father and son turned to see Legolas standing behind them, along with Halgaladh. Elrond, Glorfindel and Estel all rose and gave the prince their bows. Gorlas bowed as well but Garulf had to be prompted by his father to follow suit. Legolas gave a short nod in return, his expression as neutral as Estel had ever seen it. Not even the elf’s eyes gave anything away. Halgaladh just looked bored.

"Perhaps Prince Legolas will be kind enough to accept your apology on behalf of his father, Garulf," Aragorn suggested, sounding more the Chieftain of the Dúnedain than he had in some time while traveling with Elrond and Glorfindel. He did not notice either elf exchanging looks.

Garulf looked rebellious, or perhaps he was simply feeling the effects of the Dorwinion, but with a slight nudge from his father, he bowed to Legolas and muttered an apology that all there knew was less than sincere, but Legolas decided to be gracious and accept it. He then instructed Halgaladh to escort the Master and his son to Lord Sadron’s flet where Garulf could extend his apologies to Eirien and her family. Halgaladh did not look pleased at this but gave Legolas a respectful bow and the three left, Gorlas again holding onto Garulf’s arm to keep him more or less upright.

"I am very happy to know that the position of Master of Lake-town is not hereditary," Legolas said with a wry grin to Estel and the other two elves once they were alone.

Elrond and Glorfindel grinned and Estel snorted. "Thank the Valar for small favors."

"I feel sorry for Master Gorlas," Glorfindel commented as the four sat down. Elrond had gone to the sideboard for another pot of tea and was pouring some for them all. "He seems a decent sort and I think he’s feeling out of his depth here."

Legolas nodded as he took a sip of tea. "Yes, he has only recently acquired the title of Master after the last one died earlier this spring. I think he was more surprised than anyone that he was chosen, yet, in spite of his son, he has proven to be a very good Master and has been on good terms with us, as well as with Dale and Erebor."

Elrond turned to Estel with a calculating look. "You handled yourself well with Garulf, Estel. I must only assume you’ve had a lot of practice dealing with such as he."

Estel looked at his foster father with a thin smile. "In the last five years I’ve had my share of dealing with stupid youngsters among the Dúnedain. Usually a stint of patrol duty in winter does wonders for their dispositions... and mine."

They all chuckled at that. "Too bad we can’t send Garulf to the Dúnedain for similar discipline," Legolas smiled wickedly.

Estel shook his head. "I would never be that cruel, Legolas. I actually like my kinsmen."

Now they all laughed out loud, eliciting not a few stares among the other diners in the room. While they drank their tea Estel told them about some of the more obstreperous of his young rangers and the solutions he had come up with (usually with Halbarad’s help) to bring them into line.

"Halbarad is most inventive in coming up with suitable punishments," Estel commented at one point with a wide grin. "I think he could give my brothers lessons."

"Oh, please no, iôn nîn," Elrond said with a pained expression. "They are inventive enough without anyone else’s help."

"Valar, yes!" exclaimed Glorfindel with an exaggerated shiver. "Last thing we need is for those two to learn new tricks." Then he gave Elrond a sly look before turning back to Estel, speaking in a loud whisper. "Why don’t you send Halbarad to me, instead, when we get back to Imladris?"

Estel and Legolas laughed at that. Elrond’s response was to throw a sticky bun at Glorfindel, who deftly caught it before eating it, a huge grin on his face.

****

For the next couple of days, life in the Stronghold continued apace. The Master of Lake-town and his retinue left the day after Second Yule, much to the relief of all, for Garulf had been surly and unpleasant the entire time, to everyone’s embarrassment. King Bard remained, however, for Dain of Erebor was due to arrive at the beginning of the second week of Narwain to hammer out some trade agreements between Erebor, Dale and the Woodland Realm.

This was the other reason for their journey to Mirkwood. While the relations between the Elves and the Dwarves was generally good, several of the Dwarves who would be attending the conference were those either incarcerated by Thranduil fifteen years earlier or their kin. There was still some resentment among some of the Dwarves over this, though Dain himself had no quarrel now that his kinsman Thorin was dead. When Thranduil learned that Elrond planned to come to Mirkwood so that Aragorn could meet Mithrandir, he decided to ask Elrond to attend the conference while he was there. The Dwarves had no quarrel with the Lord of Imladris and in fact held him in high esteem. Elrond agreed, and thus he and Glorfindel planned to attend, along with Legolas and Estel, though the latter two would be observers rather than participants to the conference.

In the meantime, Estel spent some of his time in Legolas’ company, but more often than not he was seen in the company of the Ithron Mithrandir, the two of them taking long walks together outside if the weather was cooperative, or sitting quietly in the Sam Eiliant, watching the play of light upon the fountain, if it was not. If Legolas resented the time his new friend spent with the Wizard, he did not show it, and in truth, he had been told by Elrond himself that the sole purpose of their trip had been for Estel to meet Mithrandir in the hopes that the two of them would become friends.

"My foster son has a difficult road ahead of him," explained Elrond one day to Legolas when they were alone. "Difficult and lonely. I am the Lord of Imladris and my duties do not allow me the luxury of leaving Imladris as the whim takes me, so I cannot always be there for him. Mithrandir, on the other hand, wanders freely and will be in a better position to help Aragorn when I cannot be there." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone darker. "I foresee that Aragorn’s friendship with Mithrandir will be very important, though in what fashion I cannot say. Suffice to say, that if they do not become fast friends, if Aragorn does not learn to trust Mithrandir implicitly, we may all rue it."

Elrond looked grim with these words and the younger elf wondered but said nothing, only nodding his understanding. It was Estel who broached the subject with Legolas one evening as the two of them enjoyed a dinner together in Estel’s parlor.

"Do you resent the time I spend with Mithrandir?" the young Man asked in a diffident tone that did not fool the elf.

"Should I?" Legolas asked in genuine surprise.

Estel grimaced. "I know Adar wanted me to meet with Mithrandir, that that’s why we made this trip in the first place, but I did not want you to feel... left out." He ended on a more apologetic note than he had intended and reddened with embarrassment, looking down at his plate.

Legolas placed a comforting hand on his friend’s arm, forcing Estel to look up, and gave him a warm smile. "I rejoice that you and Mithrandir are becoming fast friends. I have known Mithrandir all my life. He does not often come to the Stronghold, but his teaching me the names of the stars when I was just an elfling is one of my fondest memories of him. He is a good friend to have and I don’t mind sharing him with you."

Estel raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that what you’re doing, sharing?"

Legolas laughed but made no other comment and the two spoke no more on the subject but went on to discuss the upcoming hunt with Halgaladh and Maedrust.

"If the weather holds, and it should, we will set out the day after tomorrow," the elven prince explained. "Laslaerion and Galadhor will accompany us as well."

"What do you hope to hunt?"

"There have been reports of a boar rampaging in the southern reaches near the Ered-nu-Fuin. Our patrols rarely go that far south anymore, but we still have people living in that region who refuse to come further north. The evil emanating from Dol Guldur has forced my people ever northward over the millennia, but some few have refused to give in. Adar has tried to convince them to at least move closer to the Stronghold so they have a place of refuge, but they refuse. They are mostly Silvan elves who were here long before my daeradar brought his people east out of the ruins of Beleriand."

Thus it was that early on the fourth of Narwain, five ellyn and one adan set out towards the Ered-nu-Fuin. They would be gone for four or five days if all went well. The trade conference was not expected to begin until the tenth, so there was plenty of time for them to return.

As they were mounting, Elrond could not resist giving Estel one more piece of advice, speaking softly to the young Man as he leaped onto Mithfaron’s back. "Do not stray far from Legolas or the other elves, iôn nîn. The forest south of here is very dangerous and very deadly for the unwary. Take care."

"I will, Adar," Estel promised, resisting a sigh, knowing that the elf-lord had only his best interest in mind.

"Do not worry, Lord Elrond," Legolas said, having overheard their conversation. "I will not let any harm come to Aragorn. Glorfindel would never forgive me."

Elrond smiled. "Oh, and I would?"

Legolas laughed. "I am more afraid of Glorfindel than I am of you, Ada Elrond. He is after all a balrog slayer."

Elrond turned to Glorfindel, who had been standing next to him during this exchange, and looked more amused than anything at Glorfindel’s smug expression. He turned back to Legolas and Estel and said in a conspiratorial tone, "I know what you mean. He scares me too, sometimes."

They all laughed as Glorfindel stuck his tongue out at Elrond, then they bade farewell to the two elf-lords and set off. They made their way into the forest south of the causeway, following a well-worn trail that led to several nearby villages, according to Legolas.

"We will spend the night in one of the more distant villages," he explained to Estel. "But afterwards we will camp in the woods. The boar was sighted not far from the village where we will be staying tonight. With any luck we will be able to pick up its trail easily enough."

So they traveled through the day, stopping at one of the villages for the noon meal where they passed a pleasant hour visiting the village leader, an elleth named Manadhovor, who greeted the prince and his companions courteously enough, although she looked somewhat askance at the mortal in their midst. When she learned what had brought them south, she frowned in concern.

"Do you think it wise, my prince, to bring one of the Secondborn on such a dangerous hunt?"

Estel was tempted to respond but decided to let Legolas handle the matter. He had gotten somewhat used to some of the Wood Elves speaking about him as if he weren’t there, though he little liked it. Legolas tried to apologize to him once but Estel assured him he did not take offense.

"They are unused to dealing with mortals on an equal basis," he had allowed. "It is difficult for them to break long-standing prejudices against us."

So Legolas was left to explain to Manadhovor that Estel had been hunting orcs since he was fifteen and had been leading his people since he was twenty and this was not the first boar he had ever hunted. Manadhovor still looked dubious, but did not argue the point. Instead, she told them all that she knew about the boar in question, which was little enough, for only rumors had reached her this far north.

"It is said the boar is maddened and has caused much destruction. The villagers to the south claim it came from beyond the Ered-nu-Fuin and is indeed a creature of the Shadow and no ordinary boar." She shook her head. "I do not doubt that it is a dangerous beast, but I doubt me that it is a spawn of the Shadow."

"Perhaps you are right, mistress," Maedrust said, stealing a glance at the others in the company. "We will not know for sure until we find it."

Soon they were on their way again, following the trail ever southward towards the last village.

"The leader of the village is named Gilgelair," Legolas told Estel. "He is quite old by elven standards and was here when daeradar came. He was one of the few Silvan elves who did not follow daeradar to Dagorlad. When Adar returned from the war and decided to build the Stronghold, Gilgelair refused to follow him north. Most of the elves in the village barely recognize Adar as their overlord, preferring to go their own way."

"Will they not resent your presence then?"

Legolas shook his head. "Gilgelair is no fool. He knows that Adar’s patrols are all that keep us from being swallowed whole by the Shadow. He may resent Adar’s decision to abandon the south but he understands the wisdom of doing so. No, he will treat us with all courtesy, never fear."

They reached the last village where Gilgelair was leader late in the afternoon, just as the late winter sun was setting, casting deep purple shadows through the woods. As they entered the clearing where the village was located they were greeted by torches and people milling about in near confusion. The approach of the six horses caused much excitement among the villagers.

"Mae govannen, Prince Legolas," called out one of the elves as they rode in. Estel saw that this particular elf was taller than most of the Silvan elves standing around him, though not quite as tall as the Sindar. His hair was a russet brown, his eyes dark, though there was little to see of his features in the torchlight. Legolas dismounted and went up to the elf who had called his name, giving him a warrior’s salute.

"Mae govannen, Gilgelair. Surely you and your people are not astir on our account."

The elf shook his head. "Indeed no, my lord. Two of our elflings are missing and we fear for their safety. I was just about to organize search parties."

The others in their company had dismounted and Estel stood by Legolas, his expression grave. "Where were the children last seen?" he asked.

If the elven leader was surprised to be addressed by a mortal, he gave no sign. Instead he gave a nod towards one of the other elves standing next to him. "Borgil was the last to see them this morning."

Legolas and Estel looked at Borgil, who turned out to be an older elfling of about forty or so. The young elf gave them a nervous smile and both Legolas and Estel smiled back in encouragement.

"Where did you see them last, Borgil?" Legolas asked quietly.

"They were heading for the pool, my lord." The ellon’s voice squeaked with nervousness at the end. He pointed southwest.

"But do you know if that is where they went?" Estel asked.

The ellon looked at the Dúnedain with some surprise and glanced at Gilgelair for permission to speak. The older elf nodded.

"I...I guess not...my lord. I saw them take the path to the pool. There’s nowhere else they could have gone."

"Yet I assume that was the first place you looked," Legolas stated and Gilgelair nodded.

"Their naneth went to the pool and called for them but they did not answer. She came back and told me. We have looked everywhere else for them but they are not to be found."

"How old are they?" Estel asked.

"I don’t think they’re even twenty-five yet." Gilgelair motioned to two other elves, an ellon and elleth of indeterminate age. They both had haunted expressions and the elleth had obviously been crying. "This is Ereglos and Gaelfinnel. Their son, Calenharn is one of the missing elflings. Their niece, Nínim, is also missing. Nínim’s father was killed when she was very young and her mother sailed shortly thereafter, leaving her daughter in the care of her sister."

Legolas nodded, his expression sad. "I am sorry this has happened to you. I will do what I can to see that your children are returned to you safely." He turned to Gilgelair. "Have you put your trackers on their trail? Surely they left some sign. They are too young to know how to move through the woods without a trace."

Gilgelair grimaced. "We have no real trackers. Our people live simple lives. All know the use of the bow and the knife, but we are not warriors."

Estel shared a look with Legolas and sighed. "Take me to where they were last seen and perhaps I will be able to find some trace of them."

Gilgelair looked at the mortal with some surprise and not a little resentment. "You? How do you expect to find them when we cannot?"

"It won’t hurt to try, will it?" Estel said with some exasperation.

For a moment it looked as if Gilgelair would protest further but finally he grabbed a couple of torches and began to lead them in the direction of the pool. Legolas ordered their friends to stay with the villagers, although Estel noticed Laslaerion following. Now that they were well beyond the protection of the Stronghold, neither guard would let their prince out of sight. Others made to follow, but Gilgelair ordered them to remain where they were.

"We don’t need the entire village messing up the traces. Though truth to tell," he continued more quietly to Legolas and Estel, "I doubt we’ll find anything in the dark, but the thought of those children having to spend the night in the forest alone does not bear thinking on."

Legolas and Estel agreed. Soon, they reached the clearing where the pool was. The path brought them towards the east end of the pool. It was not very large, though the far side was lost in the shadows of the encroaching night, nor was it even very deep. A stream ran from the east into the pool before flowing out again towards the southwest. Woods surrounded the clearing on three sides but where the southern shore would be the pool abutted against a bluff, perhaps twenty feet high upon which stood a stand of beeches. The bluff was sheer towards the middle but tapered off on either end. During the summer the pool was a favorite place for swimming but in the winter it was little visited, for though it did not freeze over completely the water was frigid. Not even elves would dare to swim in such cold waters.

According to Gilgelair, Nínim, only twenty, had decided she wanted to look for colored stones that were often found near the pool and her cousin, three years older, had accompanied her. As long as it was daylight, no one worried, but when darkness encroached and the children had not returned home, everyone started to be concerned.

"We’d only discovered that they were nowhere in or near the village when you arrived, Prince Legolas," Gilgelair said and Legolas nodded.

"I am glad that we arrived when we did then. Lord Aragorn is one of the best trackers ever born. I have it on the best authority."

Gilgelair looked skeptical. "And what authority would that be, my lord?"

But it was Estel who answered, smiling grimly. "He means my brothers, Elrohir and Elladan of Imladris." Before the village leader could respond, Estel motioned for them all to stop. "Stay here and I will see what can be found."

He grabbed a torch from Laslaerion’s hand and ignoring all else stooped to the ground and hunted for traces of the elflings. Had this been a village of Men, he might not have had any luck, for the tracks of the children would have been covered up by the tracks of the adults looking for them. Adult elves, however, rarely leave any trace of their comings and goings and only the training he had received from his brothers allowed him to see such traces at all. However, he was more interested in finding heavier tracks left by elflings untrained in the ways of walking lightly and leaving little or no trace behind.

In spite of the near dark, he was able to find one set of prints, possibly the elleth’s, for they were small and light. They headed for the pool. When nearly there he found another set of prints, definitely the ellon’s. They stopped at the pool’s edge then moved westward along the shore in the aimless way of all children whose attention span is measured in mere minutes as something else catches their eye. For a while the traces were quite discernible and then stopped before reaching the west side of the pool where the stream ran out. Estel was confused at first when he could no longer find any traces of them, for it was as if....

He looked up.

"Legolas!"

The elven prince was by his side in an instant. The others were not far behind. Estel pointed up. They all gasped. A large oak tree, apparently lightning-struck in a recent storm had toppled over but only part way. It leaned against another smaller oak tree which had been pushed back so that it now leaned over the stream, brushing its upper branches against the face of the bluff where it curved close to this side of the pool. It was difficult to make out in the dark but Estel suspected that the smaller oak’s branches were close enough to the top of the bluff to be reached by determined elflings. This natural bridge across the stream was too much for any child to resist.

"Do you think they went that way?" Legolas asked quietly.

Estel pointed down. "Their prints stop here. They must have decided to try to climb the trees and see what is on the other side of this bluff."

"But there is nothing on the other side," Gilgelair protested. "The bluff slopes down into the forest. Another five leagues and you reach the foothills of the Ered-nu-Fuin. If you were able to climb the bluff you would see the mountains in the distance."

"Can we get around to the other side from here without risking this bridge?" Estel asked.

Gilgelair shook his head. "No, and you cannot cross the stream. It looks shallow, but it is not. It doesn’t shallow out for another three leagues."

"Then we will have to risk the bridge. Elflings would have no trouble crossing it and I know you will have no difficulty either, but in the dark, I do not think I will be able to cross it safely." Estel hated to admit to such weakness before these Firstborn, but prudence won out over pride. He was sure that in daylight he might be able to make it across but not in the dark.

"Is Calenharn trained to find refuge in the trees if he gets lost?" Legolas asked Gilgelair.

"Would the trees tell you if they are safe?" Estel asked immediately on Legolas’ question, remembering how Legolas had told him the trees would tell the Wood Elves escorting Elrond that he, Estel, was safe.

Gilgelair stared in surprise at the mortal. He had not expected such a question from him. There was more to this mortal than met the eye, he deemed. He decided to answer the prince’s question first, though. "All our elflings are trained so, but these are dangerous times and I fear that more than wild boar haunt these woods."

Legolas nodded. Gilgelair had told them as they had made their way to the pool that the boar they were planning to hunt had been sighted further north than was first thought. "Let us return to the village and discuss our options. I fear that even we will find it difficult to cross over these trees in the dark. We may well have to wait until morning."

None of them liked that idea but they had no choice and so shortly thereafter they returned to the village and told what they had found. Many were ready to go immediately and attempt a crossing, but Legolas and Gilgelair convinced them that it would be foolhardy to try in the dark. It was best to wait until morning. In the meantime Legolas went to one of the oldest oaks surrounding the village and, placing his hand on its trunk, began to breathe quietly. All around him the elves became silent as the prince communed with the tree. There was a rustle of leaves at one point and then all was silent. Legolas opened his eyes and looked about him.

"I have asked the trees to keep an eye out for our missing elflings. None of the trees near the village sense the children, but they will ask the other trees of the deep forest and if there is any news they will let us know. For now we have no choice but to get what rest we may until morning."

**** 

It was a miserable night for all concerned. Estel felt sorriest for Ereglos and Gaelfinnel. They both looked devastated and Gaelfinnel had to be led away when she became hysterical. Gilgelair offered Legolas and the others from the Stronghold the hospitality of his flet and managed to feed them all, though in truth none had any real appetite. Legolas insisted that Estel try to sleep and the mortal reluctantly agreed. He doubted that he would sleep at all, but was surprised to find the sky lightening when he happened to roll over at one point.

He sat up to find himself alone in the flet and making quick ablutions he started down to where everyone else was milling about. Legolas noticed him and with a smile handed him a couple of hot rolls and a mug of hot sweet tea.

"I almost despaired that you would waken at all, mellon nîn," Legolas said with a smile.

Galadhor turned at Legolas’ words and smiled when he saw Estel. "I even suggested we throw you off the flet but Legolas thought Lord Elrond would be very upset if you happened to break your neck on the way down."

Estel laughed. "Upset is not the word I would have used. You could have simply shaken me."

"Oh no, Aragorn," Legolas said with a laugh. "That would have been even more dangerous than rolling you off the flet."

Gilgelair walked up then, his expression anxious. "Are we ready to go?"

A quick question to Legolas told Estel that the trees had not had anything to report. He downed his tea and with a nod said, "Yes, let us go."

This time it seemed half the village accompanied them, though Gilgelair had determined only he, Legolas, Aragorn and Galadhor would attempt the climb. It was only a matter of minutes before they were at the pool and now all could see how the trees leaned against each other. In the growing daylight it was obvious that the elflings had dared the climb: tree limbs were broken and the bark was scuffed where they had scrambled up. Galadhor offered to go first and with a nod from Legolas he walked swiftly up the oak then crossed over to the other tree. He was surefooted and had no difficulty making his way across but he stopped once or twice to point out some feature of the trees that might make it difficult for Estel to climb. Legolas assured the guardsman that he would stay close to Lord Aragorn at all times.

Once Galadhor was safely across and standing on the bluff, Estel and Legolas made the attempt. The first part was easy for the old oak was large and sturdy. The second part was less so because the younger tree was not as sturdy and there was a moment when Estel felt the tree slip under him as he put his weight on a limb but Legolas caught him in time and pulled him up to a larger limb that could take his weight more easily. Thus, it was only a matter of minutes before all four were across and standing on the bluff. Estel asked them not to move until he determined in which direction the elflings had gone.

There was a little snow on the ground mixed with mud, which made it easier to find traces of the children. Estel had to scout about for a moment before he found a sign that an elfling had stood there.

"Here," he said, pointing. "Calenharn, I think. His tread is somewhat heavier and larger than the elleth’s. It appears they went down this way."

‘This way’ proved to be a light trail, probably made by some animal, or rather, several animals. It was not wide and barely discernable but it was enough of a track for someone to walk unimpeded by the undergrowth. They started down the bluff with Estel in the lead. At the bottom of the bluff the track disappeared but Estel had no difficulty finding traces of the elflings — they led almost directly south towards the mountains in the far distance. The elves were grim. Spiders haunted these woods south of the villages, spiders and other fell creatures.

The first indication that the elflings might have encountered trouble was when Estel found a piece of blue-green cloth snagged on a hawthorn branch. The ground was torn up as if the elflings had been running.

"Nínim’s cloak. She was wearing this color according to her aunt," Gilgelair said when Estel showed him the piece of cloth.

"There is nothing to indicate that anything was following them, though, so I do not know what would make them start to run."

"Perhaps they heard something that frightened them," suggested Galadhor.

"Or imagined some danger," Legolas opined. "Elflings that young would be unable to discern what might be a real threat from an unreal one."

They continued on. By now even Gilgelair could see which way the two children had fled. At one point one of them, most likely the elleth, had tripped in her haste.

"Something definitely frightened them," Estel commented. "Could something have been following them through the trees?"

They all looked up instinctively but saw nothing but a few birds and a squirrel, black and overlarge, true, but more interested in gathering nuts than in what was happening below him.

"Should we call for them?" Gilgelair asked.

"Let us continue on for a bit first," Estel answered him. "We may find them soon."

But it was not the elflings that they found. They had gone only a few hundred yards when Legolas grabbed Estel and forced him to stop, placing a finger on the mortal’s lips to caution silence. Estel attempted to still his breathing and listen, but the elves heard it first before he did and all three started running in the direction they had already been heading. Legolas pulled Estel along with him and in a short while he heard what the elves had heard: the snuffling roar of an enraged boar and something else.

"What is that?" Estel cried.

"Yngyl!" Legolas cried even as he and the other two elves were nocking their first arrows to their bowstrings. Estel pulled out his sword just as they came into a clearing and they saw a scene out of a nightmare.

There was the boar and surrounding it were three large spiders. A fourth spider lay dead where the boar had gored it. Large sticky ropes of spider webs hung in tatters across the spaces between the trees and to their horror the elves and Estel saw that both elflings were hanging from one of the webs, firmly trapped. One of them was partially wrapped in spider silk, while the other was completely wrapped. Neither was moving and from where they were standing there was no way to tell if the children were even alive. It looked as if the boar had interrupted the spiders as they were securing their prey.

Without thought Estel shouted "Elendil!" and ran towards the elflings even as the elves shot arrow after arrow into the spiders and the boar. The first arrows did nothing more than alert the monsters to their presence and almost as one boar and spiders turned upon them. Estel was hard pressed to avoid them and had to stop once to engage one of the spiders. Luckily this happened to be one of the smaller ones and his skill as a swordsman was enough to fell the monster. Practically climbing over the spider’s carcass, Estel continued running towards the elflings, skidding to a stop just as he reached them. He was unsure how to remove the children from the web without getting trapped himself. He stared up intently at the still forms. Calenharn was half wrapped in spider silk but Nínim was completely wrapped so that even her face was covered.

"Calenharn. Nínim," he called, but neither elfling stirred. After a few seconds, however, he could see the slow rise and fall of the ellon’s chest and Estel remembered that spiders preferred their prey alive, so hoped that Nínim was equally alive, if unconscious. Breathing a sigh of relief he looked at the web carefully, trying to ascertain the best way to cut the children down, but a shout behind him alerted him to trouble.

He turned to see that, although all the spiders lay dead, the boar was still very much alive and rushing towards him. Legolas yelled at him, but he did not move. He stood with his feet planted, his sword in both hands, waiting for several hundred pounds of furious death to fall upon him. At the very last moment he fell to the ground, his sword above him as the boar ran over his body. The sword caught the animal just below the neck and nearly decapitated it as the momentum of its charge forced it into the web.

Estel felt the monster trample him and he thought something snapped. There was a tearing sound above him and then he felt a heavy weight fall upon him. His breath was driven out of him and everything went black as he lost consciousness.

****

Consciousness was slow in coming and before that there was pain, intense pain. Estel was not sure if he wanted to face the pain and tried to slip back into darkness but then someone lifted his head and he felt cool water slide down his throat. He swallowed reflexively and slowly opened his eyes. Legolas stared down at him, concern in his eyes. Estel tried to smile assurance but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

"Leg—"

"Shh. Don’t try to talk. Drink."

And he drank, but the pain became overwhelming and before he had taken more than two or three sips he slipped back into unconsciousness.

His next waking thought came as he felt himself moving. He opened his eyes to see several elves surrounding him and he realized that they must be carrying him on a litter. He was still in pain but it seemed more manageable. He must have made some noise or movement for suddenly the motion stopped as the elves placed the litter on the ground and Legolas was staring down at him again, this time with a weak smile on his face.

"How do you feel, Aragorn?"

"What happened?"

"Do you not remember?"

Estel had to think about it but thinking proved too hard and he shook his head slightly.

Legolas looked up at someone Estel could not see then looked down again at his friend. "No matter. You were injured but not very seriously. We are taking you back to Gilgelair’s village. Do you remember Gilgelair?"

Estel tried to nod but that was too difficult for him so he just settled for saying, "Silvan leader," and that seemed to satisfy Legolas who smiled and nodded.

"That’s right. I know the pain is very bad but once at the village we will be able to tend to you properly and relieve the pain."

Estel didn’t bother nodding but closed his eyes as the elves picked up the litter once again. A few minutes later, or so it seemed to him, though it could easily have been hours or even days later for all he knew, the stretcher was again placed on the ground and he was carefully lifted up and put upon a narrow cot. He kept his eyes closed, for the pain was now centering behind them. He felt a cool cloth on his forehead and someone was singing softly in the distance. The song soothed him.

At one point he sensed someone removing his clothes and tried to protest but hands gently forced him back down, so he lay there and allowed it to happen. Then he felt his body being bathed with cool cloths smelling of comfrey and rosemary. And all the while someone sang a song of healing. He must have fallen asleep or lapsed into unconsciousness at that point because the next thing he knew he was waking to find himself sweating and feeling abnormally hot. Again cool cloths were applied and then his head was lifted and he found himself drinking something warm and sweet and tasting of melb garan. The smell of raspberries was soothing and seemed to clear some of the cobwebs from his brain. He opened his eyes to see a strange elleth kneeling over him, wiping his brow. She smiled down at him.

"How are you feeling, Lord Aragorn?" she asked and he recognized it as the voice that had been singing earlier.

Estel just shook his head, too tired to speak.

"It’s all right. You just have a slight fever. Let me call for Prince Legolas." She moved out of his line of sight for a moment and when she returned she was followed by the elven prince.

"So you’ve decided to join the living after all, neh, mellon nîn?"

Estel tried to smile but wasn’t sure if he succeeded. He was still in a lot of pain, now centered further down and he wondered if he had broken his leg.

"What happened?" he croaked and Legolas gave him some more of the tea to wet his throat.

"Do you remember the boar charging you?"

Estel closed his eyes so as to better think. He had a vague recollection of fighting and yelling and then something heavy falling on him. He opened his eyes again. "Fell on me."

Legolas nodded. "Yes it did and you ended up with a broken right leg. It was a clean break just below the knee but your hip was dislocated as well and you have some cracked ribs. Luckily the ribs did not puncture your lungs, but you are very bruised and no doubt in much pain."

Legolas did not bother to tell him that his body was black with bruises that were probably more painful than the actual break or the cracked ribs. The leg had been set and the dislocated hip pushed back into place but Estel would need to do many strengthening exercises before he would be able to use the leg again. In fact it would be weeks before Estel would even be able to move on his own. Legolas had already sent Galadhor back to the Stronghold with word as to what had happened. He had no doubt that his adar would provide the necessary means to transport the Dúnadan back to the Stronghold where he could be more properly treated. The villagers had done their best, but Elrond of Imladris was still the greatest healer among them and his skills would be most welcome.

Legolas gave Estel more of the tea which was also laced with some galas Huor hant, a common sedative used by the Wood Elves. In moments the young Man was fast asleep.

****

Estel was still asleep when Thranduil entered the village the next afternoon along with Elrond and Glorfindel. With them was a company of warriors bringing a horse litter. Legolas was not surprised to see either Elrond or Glorfindel and had expected one or the other, if not both, to come but he was rather surprised to see Thranduil ride in. Thranduil smiled wryly at the sight of his son.

"Don’t look so surprised, iôn nîn. As soon as Galadhor arrived we made ready to come. I decided to lead the party myself, for I much desire to speak with Gilgelair and hear and see for myself what is going on in the south."

Elrond was taken immediately to see Estel who never stirred. After a brief but thorough examination, the elf-lord declared himself satisfied with the treatment his foster son had received so far, but he frowned at the terrible purple-black bruises all along Estel’s body.

"He will be in considerable pain for some time with these bruises. And he will need to perform certain exercises for the hip if he is ever to regain full use of it."

"It could have been worse," Glorfindel commented and neither he nor Elrond dared to think just what ‘worse’ would have entailed.

Elrond decided Estel should not be moved for at least two days, though Thranduil and Legolas would need to leave on the morrow if they were to reach the Stronghold in time for the trade conference. In the meantime, the king decided to hold an impromptu court of inquiry to determine exactly what had happened.

Gilgelair and the villagers told him about the lost elflings and Legolas described how Aragorn had used his skills as a tracker to find them. Then Legolas described the battle between the boar and the spiders and how Aragorn had gone to rescue the elflings caught in the spiders’ web and how he had skewered the boar as it charged him.

"I yelled at him to move but he just stood there, his sword out in front of him."

"Did he freeze then?" Thranduil asked, but Legolas shook his head.

"No. He was calm and knew exactly what he was doing, falling to the ground at the very last moment so that his sword ran right into the boar. It was only the fact that the animal had been going at a dead run and could not stop even with Aragorn’s sword in it that forced it to run right over him as it crashed into the web. The web was torn and the two elflings were freed. We were able to remove the wrappings from them. They were poisoned but alive. Gilgelair knew the right plants to make a tea to draw the poison from their bodies. They are still very weak but they are recovering."

Elrond looked grim. "I will examine the elflings myself with their parents’ permission. Spider bites, though rarely deadly, should not be taken lightly. What did you use to purge their bodies of the poison?" he asked Gilgelair.

"I made a tea consisting of nêl-en-raw, galas e-haru and melb rain throvan. Both elflings responded well to it and are awake and aware of their surroundings. I also used some galas e-haru to make a poultice that I placed over the bite wounds to draw out any foreign matter. The wounds are healing nicely."

Elrond nodded. "That is well, but I would like to examine them myself while I am here."

"I do not see any difficulty. Ereglos and Gaelfinnel will welcome your attention. Even here we have heard of the healing skills of the Lord of Imladris."

When Thranduil was satisfied that all had been done that could be done, he relaxed and spent the rest of his time in the village speaking to the villagers informally. Elrond examined the two children and with their parents’ permission put them in healing sleep to help speed their recovery. He would waken them before leaving.

Estel continued to sleep and Elrond was reluctant to wake him, knowing that he would waken to pain inspite of the pain killing teas he’d been given.

"Sleep is the best medicine for him right now," Elrond told Glorfindel as they both settled down to a long night of watching over their hapless chick, as Thranduil had called him when he looked in on the slumbering mortal for a moment.

****

Farad: Hunting; gerund of fara-.

Narwain: January.

Ered-nu-Fuin: The mountains of Mirkwood.

Melb garan: Red berry; in this case the European Red Raspberry (Rubus ideaus) — used by herbalists as a refrigerant to reduce fevers.

Galas Huor hant: Garden Huorswort; Garden Thyme (Thymus vulgaris) — used as a sedative [S. Huor > Q. Huorë (masc. name) > courage; lit. 'heart-vigour'. 'Courage' is one possible translation of thyme from a Greek noun].

Nêl-en-raw: Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) — cleans the system of poisons. The name is from the French dent-de-lion and means 'lion’s tooth'.

Galas e-haru: Woundwort or Kidney vetch (Anthyllis vulneraria) — tea of this is often given to children as a mild purgative.

Melb rain throvan: Wandering berry; Wild Strawberry. The orginal name for this plant was 'strewberry', because the strawberries appeared to be strewn or scattered across the field (Fragaria vesca) — a tonic that is particularly good for children.

XIII: Dream a Little Dream of Arwen

Two days later, Elrond and Glorfindel left the village with Estel firmly strapped into the horse litter. Thranduil and Legolas had left the day before along with Halgaladh, Maedrust, Laslaerion and Galadhor as well as with half the warriors, leaving the other half to accompany Elrond, Glorfindel and Estel.

Halgaladh and Maedrust were a bit disappointed at not having had a chance at the boar, but both agreed that Lord Aragorn deserved the honor of the tusks and they volunteered to carry them back to the Stronghold for him. The boar’s meat was given to the villagers, which they gratefully accepted.

Elrond took a few moments on the day they left to check the two elflings and bring them out of healing sleep. He assured Ereglos and Gaelfinnel that the children were fully recovered but suggested to Gilgelair that the oak trees be felled to remove any further temptation. The leader of the village agreed wholeheartedly.

Estel had wakened the morning before long enough for Legolas to say goodbye. He was surprised to see his adar and Glorfindel there and wondered aloud what kind of punishment he would receive for being stupid again, but Elrond assured him with a light laugh that any punishment the elf-lord could devise would pale against the punishment Estel had already received just by having the boar fall on him.

"You will be a long time mending, iôn nîn," Elrond said. "As soon as you have healed enough you must begin doing exercises to strengthen the muscles around your hip or you will suffer stiffness in the joint for the rest of your life. But the first thing we need to do is get you back to the Stronghold."

When they finally left it was with the gratitude of the villagers for the young mortal who had risked his life to save their lost elflings. None there would forget that and already one of the villagers was composing a suitable lay to commemorate the event.

They spent three days traveling. Elrond would not allow them to move too quickly and often stopped to check on his patient. Estel drifted in and out of consciousness, never staying awake very long.

"Why don’t you put him into healing sleep?" Glorfindel asked when they stopped the first night at one of the villages. Word had been sent by Thranduil for the villages to offer whatever aid Elrond deemed necessary for the comfort of his foster son.

Elrond shook his head. "I need him awake to tell me about the pain. Once we’re at the Stronghold I will put him into healing sleep, but not before. He will be very uncomfortable for the next couple of days, but there’s no help for that."

Luckily the weather held for most of the trip back to the Stronghold but while they were still several hours away on the third day the sky darkened and snow fell. Elrond stopped to gather as many blankets as he could to cover Estel up, even covering his face to keep the snow off it. The cavalcade moved more slowly then and they were nearly two hours late arriving. The snow never ceased the entire time and at one point Elrond ordered a fire to be lit so he could brew some hot tea to give to Estel who had begun to shiver in spite of all the blankets. Thus it was nearly dark before they reached the causeway.

Nessiel was there along with Thranduil and Legolas waiting with torches.

"I was wondering if you would make it back tonight," Thranduil said once they were all inside the Gate.

"I had thought to stop for the night," Elrond said, shaking the snow off his cloak, "but your guards assured me we were less than a mile from the Stronghold, so we continued on. Nessiel, I need some hot compresses for Estel’s hip and we need to address the fever he has contracted as well."

Nessiel nodded and gave instructions to the guards carrying the litter to follow her.

"I will have something hot brought to you, Elrond," Thranduil said, taking Elrond’s cloak for him. "Go and take care of your son."

Elrond smiled gratefully and with a nod to Glorfindel followed after Nessiel.

"How is he Glorfindel?" Legolas asked once Elrond was out of sight.

"Estel? Better than expected."

"No, I mean, Lord Elrond. How is he holding up?"

The golden-haired warrior gave the Woodland prince an appraising look. "He is holding his own. Once he was assured that Estel was in no danger of dying he allowed himself to relax. Now he is simply the healer who will do all in his power to assure that Estel recovers fully."

"I would delay the trade conference for their sake," Thranduil said, "but this has been a long time in the planning and cannot be postponed."

"Elrond understands that, Thranduil. Do not worry on his account. If you wish I will attend on his behalf. There is little I can do in the infirmary except get in the way and a boring trade conference is just the thing to keep my mind occupied."

Thranduil and Legolas both grinned at that and then Thranduil invited Glorfindel to have dinner with them once he had freshened up and Glorfindel accepted.

****

Once Estel was safely in healing sleep there was little more that Elrond could do, save to rouse him twice a day to take some liquids and attend to his other needs. Nessiel insisted the elf-lord take some rest.

"You will do him little good if you collapse from exhaustion yourself," the healer had said. "Go and relax. Attend one of the feasts in honor of the conference."

Elrond reluctantly agreed and in fact recognized the truth of the other healer’s words. He found that spending an evening listening to the Wood Elves singing and watching them dance did much to revive his spirits and his mood improved dramatically afterwards.

Mithrandir stayed long enough to see that Estel was being well taken care of and then one morning could not be found. None had seen him leave the night before and none knew when he might return.

"Though I suspect he will not stay away too long," Thranduil said to Elrond and Glorfindel as they had breakfast together. "He will want to know how your hapless chick is coming along."

For nearly two weeks Estel remained in healing sleep. The trade conference had concluded some days before to the satisfaction of all. Dain had taken pains to inquire after the Dúnadan’s condition each day, much to Elrond’s surprise, and had spoken admiringly of the young Man’s courage. Halgaladh and Maedrust had cleaned the boar’s tusks and all admired their size and wondered at the mortal’s bravery in facing such a fearsome beast.

Narwain was three-fourths over when Estel finally roused from healing sleep. At first, looking about the infirmary, he could not fathom where he was or how he had gotten there, but slowly memory returned and he gasped.

Elrond was there instantly at the sound and offered the Man some water which he took gratefully.

"How long have I been asleep?" Estel asked, after having his fill.

"Twelve days," came the reply. "It is now the twenty-fourth of Narwain."

"What happened to the children?"

Elrond looked down on his foster son with a smile. "Never fear. They were rescued and have recovered quite nicely. I went to the village a few days ago to check on them. I only just returned last night. Do you know they are singing songs about your deeds?"

Estel looked at Elrond in surprise and then grimaced. "No doubt reveling at the stupidity of mortals."

Elrond shook his head. "On the contrary. They cannot praise you enough. Even elves would hesitate to confront such a fearsome creature in its maddened state yet you held steady. It was a remarkable feat and I am very proud of you, iôn nîn."

Estel visibly glowed at the praise from his adar.

Over the next few days Estel had several visitors, though each visit was kept short on Nessiel’s and Elrond’s orders. The first visitor was Legolas followed by, of all people, Eirien, who proved to be a very soothing visitor and Estel felt less tired when she left. Others came by to offer good wishes and once Halgaladh snuck in with some sticky buns from the breakfast sideboard. He and Estel had eaten most of them before Nessiel discovered them and ordered the ellon out, though not before grabbing the last sticky bun for herself, much to Estel’s amusement.

As Narwain made way for Nínui, Elrond changed the splint on Estel’s leg so as to give him more mobility above the knee.

"We must begin exercising the hip muscles or you will be lame for the rest of your life."

The first time Elrond manipulated the hip, showing Estel the movements he needed to make, the mortal turned dead white and fainted. He came to some minutes later to find Glorfindel holding his head in his lap and bathing his forehead with a cool cloth.

Elrond stood over him, his eyes full of sorrow at the pain he was causing. "I am sorry, iôn nîn. This has to be done."

Estel clenched his teeth and nodded as Elrond began the manipulation again. This time he managed to remain conscious but only just. Afterwards he lay in Glorfindel’s arms weeping softly from exhaustion as the golden-haired elf sang to him until he fell asleep.

Over the next few days Estel dreaded the times Elrond or Nessiel came to do his exercises but as the days went by the pain was less excruciating, though he always felt drained and often slept for hours afterwards.

And during those times Estel dreamed.

At first the dreams were nebulous and disjointed but after a time they began to take on a sense of reality that he often found hard to dissociate from his waking life. And in all these dreams Arwen played a major role.

The first dreams seemed to take place in and around Imladris when Estel first met Arwen in the woods, believing her to be Lúthien reborn. Often in his dreams he found himself running after her, but, unlike in reality, she would never turn around to face him. It left him feeling frustrated and out of temper when he woke. Both Elrond and Nessiel noticed these mood swings but said nothing at first.

Later the dreams changed to reflect more closely what had actually occurred between them at their first meeting, but with a difference. In these dreams Arwen would stop and turn and they would speak as they had in waking life. Then Estel would find himself kissing his beloved, first chastely, then more passionately, but to his surprise Arwen would return his passion with her own deep kisses and the fire that swept through him would cause him to wake abruptly and with embarrassing results, though neither Elrond nor Nessiel bothered to comment when they came in the morning to give Estel his morning bath.

Nessiel, in fact, found herself consulting Elrond about what was happening and Elrond had to reassure her that the phenomenon was quite common among mortals at Aragorn’s stage of life and was nothing to be concerned about.

"His body suffered gross damage and is attempting to repair itself. Sometimes the body tries to overcompensate in its attempts. Aragorn’s dreams I suspect are a product of overcompensation."

Eventually the dreams concerning Arwen changed again. Now he was no longer in Imladris, but where he was he did not know. The landscape was unfamiliar, yet not threatening. He would find himself walking towards a mound where stood a stand of golden-leaf trees the like of which he had never seen before in his waking life. Flowers, gold and white, dotted the mound beneath the trees and Arwen would be standing there, as if waiting for his arrival. These scenes were often gentle and sweet and they would exchange rings and kiss but the kisses were not as passionate, yet more satisfying than the earlier dream kisses. Whenever he woke from one of these dreams he felt happy and experienced less pain. Both healers rejoiced when this occurred.

During this time his exercises continued. At first Elrond and Nessiel took turns with the exercises but soon others volunteered, thus giving them the opportunity to visit with Estel for a few minutes while helping him with his exercises. Even Thranduil came once and helped the mortal through a particularly grueling episode that left Estel wringing with sweat. Elrond walked in sometime later to find Thranduil sitting patiently by Estel’s bed holding the chamber pot while Estel threw up, a consequence of the nausea he sometimes felt while doing the exercises.

There were days when Estel despaired, feeling that he wasn’t getting anywhere in his recovery, but Elrond and Nessiel both assured him that this was not so and that they were pleased by the progress he was making.

"Your leg is healing well and in a couple of days we will be removing the splint," his adar told him one day when he was feeling particularly low. "Then the real work will begin."

Estel looked up at Elrond with a wondering expression. "What—"

"We will see about getting you to stand. I have already had crutches made for you. Someone will be by later today to measure you so the height will be correct."

Estel both dreaded and looked forward to the day when he would be allowed to stand. It would mean freedom from the tyranny of the chamber pot (as he put it once to Legolas) but as a healer himself he knew it would mean a whole different level of pain to be endured.

And so it proved.

The first time he was allowed to stand he could only endure the pain for a few seconds before he was collapsing on the bed. Elrond had to give him a double dose of willow bark tea to relieve the pain. They tried again later in the day and Estel was able to stand for nearly five minutes before collapsing again. He groaned with disappointment but Elrond told him that he was doing better than expected.

"It will take time, iôn nîn, but you will get there."

Estel was not so easily convinced, but each day he found he could stand for longer periods of time and on the third day he was even allowed to take a few faltering steps that left him breathless but in a better mood than he had been lately.

The day he was able, with some help from Glorfindel, who was ‘on duty’ that day, to make it to the privy (though he needed Elrond’s help as well to make it back) was a turning point in the young Man’s healing and his dreams began to reflect that.

They still featured Arwen, but now both of them seemed older somehow and they were in a stone city. He thought it must be Minas Tirith, though he had never seen the city of Anárion in waking life. The two of them were often sitting in a garden behind high walls, usually alone but sometimes there would be a small child — boy or girl; it was never the same child — playing at their feet. They did not speak in these dreams but often sat there holding hands, content with their world.

These dreams left Estel with a sense of well-being that he did not always experience even in waking life and he wondered if they weren’t a foretelling as sometimes came upon him or just wishful thinking. He wished that Mithrandir were still there to talk to. He did not feel comfortable speaking to any of the elves about his dreams, even Legolas, who did not know about his love for Arwen.

Legolas had let slip once that he had visited Imladris some centuries before and had met Arwen. There was some intimation that both families had hoped for a union between them, but Legolas told Estel that both of them knew they were not right for each other, though neither could say why. Estel decided then that he would never mention Arwen and his hopes for them to Legolas for fear of offending his friend.

Six weeks to the day of the encounter with the boar, Estel was able to walk to the privy and back without aid except for the crutches which Elrond told him he would need to use for another couple of weeks. He still continued with his exercises though now he often did them on his own. Two days later, he was permitted to take a real bath and to dress, with some care and lots of help. By the end of the week he was back in his own rooms and sleeping in his own bed.

It was now the middle of Nínui and the weather had turned nasty outside the Stronghold. Often the rain was mixed with snow and left the ground a frozen sludge. Legolas assured Estel that he was not missing anything by being forced to stay inside. Now that he was getting better, Estel found himself feeling bored by inactivity. The elves began to devise ways of keeping their mortal guest occupied.

Dain of Erebor sent him a beautifully carved draughts board and he and Legolas and their friends would often gather in the evenings and take turns playing. Thranduil allowed him access to his personal library, for which Estel was especially grateful. It was not as extensive as Elrond’s library in Imladris but it contained several volumes he had never read before and one or two of his favorites that he read again for the sheer pleasure of doing so. Eirien carved him a small flute and taught him to play though they both agreed he had little talent for it. They enjoyed themselves nonetheless, often spending the time simply talking. Estel found he looked forward to his ‘lessons’ with Eirien more and more.

****

Rhîw was over and Echuir was well underway when Mithrandir returned to the Stronghold. He appeared as mysteriously as he had disappeared, showing up at the Great Gate on a wet morning during the last week of Nínui. Thranduil met him in the Great Hall where he had been holding an early morning court.

"I’ve come to see how Aragorn is doing," the Wizard said after greeting the king with a bow.

"I suspected as much," Thranduil said with a smile, coming down from the dais to greet the Wizard. "Come, I will take you to him. He as begun walking again though he must use crutches still."

"His recovery is much quicker than I would expect."

Thranduil nodded. "For most mortals yes, but he is not like most mortals, is he?"

Mithrandir looked thoughtful.

They found Estel in the dining hall for it was still early enough for people to be lingering over their tea after breakfast. He was sitting with Legolas as was their habit. Elrond was not there but Glorfindel was. When the Wizard arrived Estel’s face lit up with pleasure, much to the elves’ amusement.

"Well, well. I see you are much improved since last I saw you," Mithrandir said approvingly as he approached the table where Estel was sitting. "Nay, nay, do not get up, for I am going to sit down. It was a wet and weary walk this past week and I am looking forward to a warm bed and warmer food."

"Let me get you some breakfast, Mithrandir," Legolas said, standing up and going to the sideboard. He returned in a short while with a plate full of eggs and bacon and toast and a bowl of creamy porridge. The old Wizard sighed with contentment at the sight of the food.

"Now this is more like it."

Thranduil, who had already broken his fast, took his leave of them, promising to see them all later at luncheon. The others resumed their conversation after Mithrandir indicated he wanted to devote himself to eating. In between bites, though, he watched the mortal sitting across from him speaking animatedly with Legolas and Glorfindel. He had obviously lost weight, for his clothes hung loosely about him. His face had the pallor of one who has been long ill and has not seen the sun in some time, and while there was a residue of pain in his eyes they were bright and lively and his laughter was genuine and unforced.

Satisfied with what he saw he took a sip of tea and joined in the conversation.

"I take it that you are planning a trip once Elrond releases you from those crutches," he said to Estel who nodded.

"Adar says that as soon as I can walk unaided and with no difficulty I am to start riding again, though I have to use a saddle for now." He grimaced at that but Glorfindel only nodded.

"Your leg is still weak, youngling. You still have to build up the strength of the muscles, especially around the hip. We don’t want you falling off and reinjuring yourself." He grinned and continued. "Don’t worry. Mithfaron will understand and won’t be offended."

"Where do you mean to go?"

Legolas answered. "Not far, actually, only to the nearest village and back and only when there is no likelihood of rain or snow. Lord Elrond does not wish for Aragorn to suffer any more than necessary."

Mithrandir nodded in understanding and said with a knowing smile, "Yes, I imagine your first time on a horse will prove more tiring than you think. I suspect young man that before you even reach that first village you will be wanting your own bed again."

"That is if he makes it to the first village," chimed in Glorfindel with a wicked smile. The others laughed good-naturedly.

Estel grimaced and look down. He knew they were just teasing him but he’d been looking forward to riding again and getting out of the Stronghold. He hoped his own weakness didn’t spoil things for him.

Mithrandir gave him a shrewd glance and bending down so their heads nearly met whispered, "You’ll do well enough, young Estel. Never fear."

Estel looked up and saw the confidence in the Wizard’s eyes and smiled back.

The Wizard patted him on the arm. "Good, good. Now why don’t you show me how well you get around on those crutches."

Estel complied and in a short while they were all leaving the dining hall, though not together. Legolas had duties to which he must attend and Glorfindel was going riding. He had taken it upon himself to see that Estel’s horse was adequately exercised while his young master was convalescing.

When the two elves had taken their leave Mithrandir suggested to Estel that they go to the Sam Eiliant to talk. Estel hesitated at that.

"I am not sure I can climb the slope of the corridor even though it is not very steep. I have been keeping to the level areas of the Stronghold."

"Why don’t we give it a try nonetheless, heh?" the Wizard asked encouragingly. "If it proves too much for your strength, we can turn back and talk elsewhere."

Estel nodded and they continued on their way. Mithrandir did not bother to try to maintain a conversation with the Man, allowing Estel to concentrate on walking. They took their time. Once they reached the Great Hall, which was empty during this time of the day, they made their way behind the throne dais. Estel stopped and took a deep breath. This would be a test of his stamina and he did not think he would succeed. He still tired easily and his right leg and hip pained him after standing on it for any length of time.

Mithrandir looked at him with sympathy. "We will take this as slowly as you need to, Aragorn. There is no rush, but I think if you can reach the Sam Eiliant you will feel much better about yourself."

Estel nodded and began walking. The corridor leading to the Sam Eiliant wound gently around the core of the mountain, its slope barely noticeable but still evident, especially towards the end. Along the way, though, there were alcoves niched out of the walls where one could sit and Estel took advantage of them whenever he felt himself flagging.

He was not sure how long it took them to reach the end, but he suspected it was far longer than the usual amount of time. Mithrandir was the soul of patience, gently encouraging without being patronizing and seemingly in no hurry himself.

At last they reached the Sam Eiliant and Estel breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down on the nearest bench, too fatigued at the moment to notice or care about the play of light which always delighted him whenever he came there. He was nearly dripping with sweat and his breathing was somewhat ragged. Mithrandir sat beside him and offered him a clean rag with which to wipe his brow and then handed him a small flask.

"Take a couple of sips of this," the Wizard said.

Estel unstopped the flask and the most delicious smell came forth. He looked at the Wizard in surprise. "This is miruvor. How —"

"I met Elrond on the way to the dining hall and asked if I could borrow some."

Estel stared at Mithrandir for a long moment. "Adar already knows that you planned this." It was not a question.

Mithrandir nodded. "Your adar thought you might have need of it by the time you made it here. Now have a sip. It will restore you and give you strength for the walk back down."

Estel nodded and took a careful sip or two and almost instantly felt refreshed, the pain in his leg receding to a more manageable throb. He restoppered the flask and handed it back to the Wizard with his thanks.

"Now tell me what has been happening with you, Aragorn."

Estel related the last few weeks, the interminable stretch of time as his body slowly healed, the exercises for his hip and how the elves had devised myriad ways to entertain him when he was feeling bored. Mithrandir smiled and nodded but made little comment, letting the young Man ramble as he wished. Finally Estel came to a halt.

For several moments there was silence between them. Mithrandir looked thoughtful. Estel spent the time admiring the play of light on the fountain. Finally, Mithrandir spoke, his tone gentle.

"Is there not more that you wish to tell me, Aragorn?"

Estel glanced at the Wizard then looked away, blushing. Mithrandir’s eyebrow went up but he made no other comment. Finally, after taking a couple of deep breaths Estel began telling the Wizard about his dreams. And even though he was at pains to leave out the more embarrassing details of some of them the Wizard was able to guess at what wasn’t said and smiled inwardly to himself.

"Do you think they mean anything, Mithrandir?" Estel asked at the end of his recital, sounding not a little anxious.

Mithrandir took a moment before speaking. "I do not think you need concern yourself with them right now, mellon nîn. Your body was giving you something else to think about besides the pain you were experiencing while you were healing. Something a bit more pleasant if I’m not mistaken." The Wizard smiled teasingly and Estel grinned and ducked his head.

But in truth the Wizard was disturbed by what he had heard. Estel’s description of the mound with the flowers and trees was too precise. It was obvious he had been dreaming of Cerin Amroth in Lothlórien, yet he knew that Estel had never been there. He supposed the lad could have overheard someone in Imladris describing it, one of his brothers perhaps, but the level of detail was too great and he suspected the dream was more likely a vision.

As for the stone city...

The Wizard decided he would have to think more on what he had heard before coming to a conclusion. In the meantime he took pains to reassure the mortal that his dreams were nothing of import and should not concern him over much. Mithrandir could see the relief in Estel’s eyes at his words. Only time will tell if the lad’s dreams are truly just dreams or something more, the Wizard reflected to himself. He debated as to whether he should speak to Elrond about them but decided against it. He had promised Aragorn that what was spoken between them would remain between them and he held himself to that promise. Besides, he knew that Aragorn would never agree to Mithrandir discussing his dreams with anyone else, let alone with his adar. There were some matters to which even the Lord of Imladris need not be privy.

When Estel had rested enough they started the long walk back. At least they were going downslope. Still, by the end of it Estel was nearly reeling with fatigue and Mithrandir had to call to a couple of elves whom they met in the Great Hall to help Estel back to his rooms.

By now it was nearly noon, but Estel was too worn out to want to go to the dining room, so one of the elves, an elleth named Galueth, offered to bring him something to eat, for which he was grateful. Mithrandir kept him company while they waited for the elleth to return with Estel’s meal. When Galueth returned, though, she not only brought enough food for them both, but right behind her came Legolas and Elrond, both looking concerned.

Elrond, ever the healer, immediately checked his foster son for fever and then spent a couple of minutes examining his leg and hip until he was satisfied that Estel was suffering from nothing more than fatigue.

"I suspect you will sleep deeply tonight, iôn nîn," the elf-lord said once he was finished examining the young Man.

Legolas offered to keep Estel company and share the meal with him while Elrond and Mithrandir went to join Thranduil for luncheon. The two friends then enjoyed a quiet meal together. Afterwards, though, Estel pleaded fatigue and Legolas took his leave.

"Perhaps if you are up to it this evening you would like to attend a small gathering of my friends," he said as he stood up to go. "We will be practicing some of the music for the New Year."

"That’s almost a month away," Estel said in surprise.

Legolas nodded. "Yes, but we usually begin preparing special music for the New Year around now when the weather is often too miserable."

"Then I would like to join you, if I’m feeling up to it." Estel grinned slyly. "I’ll even bring my flute."

Legolas laughed. "In that case, maybe we should just forget it." He ducked when Estel threw a pillow at him.

****

Two days later Estel found himself at the entrance of the Great Hall with what seemed like half the residents of the Stronghold on hand to watch him as he attempted to cross to the dais without aid of crutches. When his adar had told him during breakfast that he wished to see the young Man walk unaided, Estel had thought they would do it in private, perhaps at the infirmary where he would walk a few feet one way and then back the other. The elves had other ideas and led him to the Great Hall.

Thranduil was standing on the dais along with Elrond and Nessiel, Glorfindel and Mithrandir, while Legolas had elected to walk along side his friend and catch him if it looked as if he might collapse. Maedrust joined them. Estel eyed the distance to the dais nervously.

"Just take it slow," Legolas advised. "There is no rush."

"You skewered a maddened boar with little fuss, Lord Aragorn," Maedrust said, grinning. "This should be nothing in comparison."

"But when I skewered the boar I didn’t have an audience," Estel protested with a sigh and the two elves laughed. Legolas gently removed the crutches and Maedrust held him up until he felt steady enough to stand on his own. Then, taking a deep breath, he began to slowly walk across the room, keeping his eyes resolutely on his adar, not thinking of how far he had to walk to reach him.

His steps were slow and awkward, and once or twice he thought he would lose his balance but caught himself in time. About halfway across he had to stop to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Legolas and Maedrust continued to offer him soft words of encouragement. No one else in the Great Hall made a sound. Elrond stood at the foot of the dais waiting, his arms out and beckoning. He didn’t think he would be able to make it the rest of the way for he was beginning to feel dizzy with the effort of keeping upright, but somehow he found himself lurching into his adar’s arms just as he felt himself collapsing. All around him he could hear the elves applauding and cheering and offering him congratulations but the only words that mattered to him were the soft "Well done" that Elrond whispered into his ear as the elf-lord embraced him. Looking over Elrond’s shoulder he saw Glorfindel wink at him, while Thranduil gave him a grave nod as a captain saluting one of his warriors who had achieved a great victory.

The king then issued an order and one of the elves quickly came forward with a chair for Estel to sit in and he gratefully sank into it, eagerly accepting a goblet of watered wine from Mithrandir, who also winked at him. Looking about he saw everyone standing there with huge grins on their faces and he had to smile.

"And now for my next trick," he said softly into his goblet, but the elves all heard him and the laughter was loud and long.

Afterwards, Elrond assured the mortal that he was pleased with his progress. "We will see how well you do on a horse tomorrow, iôn nîn, and if all goes well you may ride to the nearest village the day after that."

Estel breathed a sigh of relief. He had not been outside for nearly two months, for even when he was getting around with crutches Elrond would not let him go any further than the Great Gate. The ground outside was too wet and too treacherous for him to walk on.

When Elrond deemed him sufficiently recovered, he allowed Estel to get up again, although he insisted the Man continue using the crutches for the rest of the day. Legolas invited him to join with him and his friends as they continued working on the music for the New Year celebration and Estel accepted.

"We will have a feast tonight in your honor, Lord Aragorn," Thranduil said, clapping the Man on his shoulder, "to celebrate this victory."

Everyone cheered and the impromptu gathering began to break up. Soon only Thranduil, Elrond, Glorfindel and Mithrandir stood in the Great Hall except for the usual guards and Thranduil’s steward who was busy at a sideboard pouring some wine for them all at Thranduil’s request. Glorfindel noticed Elrond smiling at nothing. "What are you smiling about, Elrond?"

Elrond chuckled. "I was just remembering Arwen."

For a moment Glorfindel did not understand the reference and then a certain memory arose and he started laughing himself. "Oh, Valar, yes. How could I have forgotten?"

Thranduil looked at his two guests with impatient amusement. "Care to let the rest of us in on the joke?"

Elrond turned to the elven king. "The day Arwen learned to walk on her own, Valandil, the then king of Arnor, arrived for a visit...."

**** 

Valandil and his retinue rode across the last bridge into Imladris to find that there was no one there to greet them. Reining in his horse before the front porch of the main house, Valandil glanced around, wondering where Elrond and the others were, while in the back of his mind he noticed how much everything had remained the same since his own youth growing up there. He turned to his captain, Mardil, with a sardonic look.

"Are you sure we’re here on the right day, Mardil?"

Before the young captain could answer his lord, the doors of the house opened and a venerable elf stepped out.

"Erestor!" Valandil called out, alighting from his horse. "I was beginning to think Imladris had been deserted. Where are Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían?"

Erestor smiled and gave the king of Arnor a brief but respectful bow, then allowed the human to take him into a bone-crushing hug. "You must forgive Lord Elrond, your Highness," the elf said with a faint smile. "He and his wife and most of Imladris are somewhat engaged. Please come in."

Valandil raised an eyebrow at these words, then turned to Mardil and said, "Take the horses to the stables, Mardil, you know where they are, and then you and your men may join us, if that is all right with you, Erestor."

Erestor nodded. "If you come through the back porch, someone will take you to the king’s apartments. They are all ready for you, Highness."

Mardil nodded and gave a salute that was given equally to his king and the elf before wheeling his horse and leading the retinue around to the stables. Valandil put his arm around Elrond’s chief administrator as they entered the house and said, "Now Erestor, what is going on? And when are you finally going to call me by my name? You’ve addressed me as ‘your Highness’ since I was a youth racing through the halls of Imladris."

"And I will continue to address you as ‘your Highness’ whether you race through the halls of Imladris or not," Erestor said with a slight smile and Valandil laughed. "But as for your first question, today little Arwen is taking her very first steps and all of Imladris is on hand to watch."

Valandil laughed again. "Well in that case, I will forgive the Lord of Imladris for snubbing his royal guest at the door," then winked to show that he was joking. Erestor’s smile merely deepened.

Inside, Erestor led the king into the Hall of Fire. At first, Valandil’s eyes saw nothing, for the hall was dim, as always, the only source of light the fire blazing merrily in the center. Eventually, though, as his old eyes adjusted, he saw Elrond at one end of the hall surrounded by others, while a silver-haired elf knelt some ways away with his arms outstretched. Valandil gasped quietly as he realized that this could be none other than Lord Celeborn of Lothlórien, which meant that the tall golden-haired elleth standing imperiously next to Elrond had to be the Lady Galadriel. Valandil turned towards Erestor with a silent question, and the elf merely nodded, motioning for him to make his way to where Elrond was standing. It was only then that he noticed that Celebrían was bent over, holding the hands of an elfling who teetered on her feet, trying to find her balance.

This, then, must be Arwen, born only six or seven months earlier, as dark of hair as her adar. Her face was scrunched up in concentration, and then, as Celebrían slowly let go of her daughter’s hands, the elleth began drunkenly to cross the floor, her eyes fixed on her daerada waiting for her with outstretched arms. Almost by common consent, he and Erestor stopped to watch, both holding their breaths, as were most of the other adults in the room.

Slowly the child made her way barefoot across the floor but about halfway there seemed to lose her balance and with an audible plop landed square on her bottom. Before any of the adults could rush to her aid, though, the elleth screwed up her face, clenched her tiny fists and pounded them on the floor in frustration while screaming "Pweenorch!" at the top of her lungs, then struggled back up onto her feet with determined zeal.

Celebrían gasped. "What did she say? Pweenorch? What does that mean?"

But it was Elrohir who divined the meaning of the word and in open astonishment fell to his knees, laughing uproariously, gasping out, "Pui-en-orch. She’s trying to say ‘pui-en-orch’."

At this most of the rest of the adults, including Valandil, who had since joined the group around Elrond, started laughing. Elrond, Valandil noticed, tried to look upset but failed, his eyes glittering with amusement. Celebrían, however, looked shocked and dismayed, and deciding on the most likely culprits rounded on her two sons and exclaimed, "You taught her that, didn’t you? How could you?"

Elladan, who had joined his brother on the floor in laughter, raised his hands in protest. "I swear, naneth, neither of us taught her to say that. I think you can safely lay the blame on Glorfindel for this one. It is, after all, one of his most favorite words on the training field. She must have picked it up from him."

Celebrían turned to the golden-haired elf and glared at him, but Glorfindel just laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "I’m sorry Celebrían," — not sounding at all repentant, — "I’ll try to control my language on the training field from now on."

Celebrían merely huffed, but her mother smiled thinly at Glorfindel and said in a quiet voice that nevertheless sent shivers up Valandil’s spine, "I’ve always suspected that you were a bad influence on my daerhîn, Glorfindel, and now I have proof."

Glorfindel merely shook his head and with a smile retorted, "And it takes one to know one, doesn’t it, Galadriel?"

Valandil was glad to see he wasn’t the only one to visibly cringe at these words, but remarkably, the most powerful elf in Middle-earth gave a light laugh and answered with a single word: "Indeed."

In the meantime, little Arwen, completely oblivious to the furor her tantrum had caused, was intent only on reaching her goal — her beloved daerada’s arms.

Valandil had seen many remarkable things in his long (for a mortal) life, but it was the sight of the silver-haired Lord of Lothlórien sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Hall of Fire hugging his youngest grandchild and laughingly teaching her the proper pronunciation of ‘pui-en-orch’ — much to the dismay of his wife and daughter — that he most treasured to the end of his days....

****

Thranduil and Mithrandir joined Elrond and Glorfindel in laughter at the story.

"I can’t believe you said that to Lady Galadriel, Glorfindel," the elven king finally said. "I’m surprised you’re still standing after that."

Glorfindel shook his head. "You forget, Thranduil, Galadriel and I knew each other in Valinor as elflings playing amidst the fountains of Tirion-on-Túna under the indulgent eyes of our nenith and nurses. Admittedly, she was a decade or so older than I, but our families were known to one another."

"An elfling, huh?" Thranduil said, accepting a goblet of wine from his steward. "So, what was she like back then?"

"Oh, I would say Galadriel’s mellowed somewhat over the millennia."

Thranduil sputtered, choking on his wine. "Mellowed? Galadriel? Not likely."

"Oh, if you think Galadriel is a terror now," Glorfindel responded with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "you should have seen her when she was but an elfling of twenty-five. Her mother didn’t name her ‘Nerwen’ for nothing, you know."

****

Nínui: February.

Echuir: Stirring, which begins on 4 Nínui.

Miruvor: Elvish cordial, rarely, if ever, offered to mortals.

Daerada: Grandpapa.

Daerhîn: Grandchildren.

Pui-en-orch: Orcspit, assuming a noun pui derived from the attested Sindarin verb puia-, inf. puio "to spit".

Nerwen: Man-maid; Galadriel's mother-name.

Historical Note: Valandil assumed the crown of Arnor in T.A. 10. His son, Eldacar, succeeded to the throne in 249. Arwen was born in 241.

XIV: A Hundred Bottles of Dorwinion on the Wall

On the first of Gwaeron Estel awoke to find Glorfindel and Legolas grinning down at him. He groaned, knowing what was to come, and rolled over, placing his pillow over his head in a vain attempt to hide. Glorfindel pulled the pillow away.

"Oh, no, youngling. None of that. Today is a special day. Come on, rise and shine."

"What time is it?" he asked, rolling back over to face his tormentors.

"Late," came the reply from Legolas as Glorfindel pulled the bedcovers off him and the elven prince practically pushed him out of the bed.

"Your bath is waiting for you," Glorfindel said with a smirk. "You don’t want the water to get cold."

Estel stumbled to the privy and then into the bathing room which was steaming with the promised bath. He half expected the two elves to follow him into the room, but they left him with his privacy intact, content to wait for him outside.

Once in the bath itself, he felt better. His body ached from riding the day before. He had been surprised at how tired he felt just being on a horse for less than an hour. Glorfindel and Legolas had spent the time making sure Estel could remain in the saddle without too much trouble. By the time they finished putting him through his paces, Estel was ready to give up riding altogether. He ended up napping for several hours afterwards, waking about an hour before the dinner bell chimed. Even so, he was practically falling asleep in his soup and Elrond told him to go back to bed right after dinner. It was probably the first time in his life that Estel didn’t mind going to bed so early.

Finishing his bath, he dried off and went back into the bedroom where he found a new outfit laid out on the bed for him. Glorfindel and Legolas had what Estel could only describe as "stupid grins" on their faces. The outfit consisted of a linen shirt of a pale spring green embroidered with blue and white flowers at the wrists and collar and a velvet tunic, dove grey edged in silver thread. Breeches of fine kid leather were dyed the same shade as the tunic. A belt of silver with links in the shape of leaves, clasped with an emerald, completed the ensemble.

"Where did all of this come from?" Estel asked in surprise, picking up the belt in admiration.

Legolas smiled. "The clothes are a birthday gift from Elrond and Glorfindel and the belt is from my adar. And this is my gift to you." Legolas went out to the parlor and returned holding out a hooded cloak, a grey two or three shades darker than the tunic, lined with grey-blue squirrel fur. It was a princely garment, similar to one belonging to Legolas, which Estel had admired as much for its beauty as for its practicality in these cold climes.

Estel was touched and embraced his friend warmly, voicing his thanks profusely.

"Now get dressed so we can have breakfast," commanded Glorfindel and Estel quickly complied. Shortly thereafter the three made their way to the dining hall where Estel found many elves besides Elrond and Thranduil waiting for them, more so than would usually be found there this early in the morning, for Estel had discovered that Legolas’ idea of ‘late’ was an hour before dawn. The hall had been decorated with streamers and ribbons in shades of blue (for Imladris) and grey (for the Dúnedain) and white linens had been laid out on the tables that normally were used only during high feast days. Estel noticed that the sideboard was groaning with several of his favorites dishes.

As he entered the dining hall the elves there greeted him with good wishes for his birthday and Glorfindel and Legolas led him to the high table where he was seated next to Thranduil in the place of honor, much to his embarrassment.

Thranduil merely grinned and winked at the young Man. "Don’t worry, I won’t demand you make a speech unless you want me to." Estel couldn’t help but laugh. Piled high on the table before him were several wrapped gifts from the elves whom he had befriended during his stay. He was obliged to open them before they allowed him to eat.

There was a new bow from Maedrust and Halgaladh had fletched the arrows and made the quiver that went with it. The quiver was made of finely tooled leather depicting the rescue of the elflings from the spiders and the killing of the boar. Laslaerion and Galdhor gave him a set of white-hilted knives popular among the Wood Elves while Eirien presented him with a book which she had copied out and bound herself. It was one of the books from Thranduil’s library that he had never read before. Estel especially admired the illustrations.

Nessiel gave him a wooden box intricately carved and inlaid with silver in which were found several small compartments, each of which contained a bottle neatly labeled with its particular herb. "You’re a healer in your own right, young Aragorn," the elven healer said. "I think it’s time you had your own store of medicines."

Mithrandir gave him a beautifully carved pipe and a bag of pipeweed — "From the Shire, where the best weed is grown," the Wizard told him. Estel had begun smoking as did all the Dúnedain but had not done so during the journey to Mirkwood in deference to the elves. Taking a whiff of the pipeweed he was surprised at how much he had missed its smoky smell.

When all the gifts had been opened and admired, they sat down to break their fast. All of Estel’s favorite foods were there and the feasting was long and merry, but eventually Elrond said, "If you want to ride to the nearest village you should start out soon, Estel. I have already told Legolas that there is to be no racing. You will go at a moderate pace," he admonished his foster son, a hint of a smile behind his stern mien.

Estel nodded, for he understood the necessity of taking things slow while his hip continued to heal. Thus, about two hours after dawn, he and Legolas, along with Glorfindel, Laslaerion, Halgaladh and Eirien set out for the nearest village.

The day was fine and not too cold, though Estel was grateful for his new cloak, for there was still a rawness to the air and it was damp. Early crocuses were peeping above the snow that still lay about but the ground was not as muddy as before. Birds sang sweetly and the sun was bright in the cerulean sky. Estel breathed deeply and reveled in the feeling of freedom he felt as they made their way through the woods along the path leading to the village which was their goal.

They made their way easily, singing and joking as they went. Glorfindel insisted that Estel get out of the saddle every so often and walk for a while before climbing back on the horse, thus giving his leg and hip much needed exercise, so their pace was slower than normal, but no one minded. About midmorning they stopped for a brief rest and a bite to eat then set out again, reaching the village around noon to find the villagers awaiting them with luncheon.

It was a merry affair and Estel enjoyed himself immensely, though he reddened in embarrassment when one of the villagers began singing a lay that he soon recognized as describing his confrontation with the boar. The others grinned and Glorfindel teased him, telling him that he was going to teach the lay to his brothers so they could sing his praises to the Dúnedain. Estel told him that if he did, the elf just might find himself having another heart-to-heart conversation with Mandos. Glorfindel merely smirked and the others laughed, though one or two of the villagers looked somewhat askance at the mortal speaking so freely of killing one of the Firstborn, even in jest.

Eventually the meal came to an end and Celepharn, the village leader, offered to show them around, pointing out some of the features of village life with which the mortal might not be familiar, though in truth it was not much different than what he had experienced living among the Dúnedain. Still, he offered his admiration for the way the village seemed an integral part of the surrounding woods and spoke intelligently about defense, which surprised Celepharn.

"You seem well versed in the ways of defense, Lord Aragorn," he commented.

"As Chieftain of the Dúnedain it is my duty to see to the defense of the villages of my people. I have had to make some hard choices along those lines in the last few years as the number of orc attacks have increased."

Celepharn glanced at Glorfindel as if seeking confirmation of the mortal’s words and the golden-haired elf nodded slightly in confirmation. Celepharn gave Estel an appraising look.

Once the tour was over, Glorfindel insisted that Estel lie down and rest for at least an hour before they headed back to the Stronghold. Celepharn offered his flet for the Dúnadan’s use and before long the young Man was drifting off to sleep to the sound of Glorfindel and Legolas singing, while Eirien played her flute.

In fact, he slept for nearly two hours, much to his chagrin, but none of the elves minded the delay.

"If you hadn’t needed the sleep, youngling," Glorfindel said when Estel tried to apologize for sleeping so long, "you wouldn’t have slept as long as you had. Now that you are well rested, the journey back to the Stronghold will not prove so tiring for you."

They took their leave of the villagers and Estel thanked Celepharn for his hospitality.

"It was our honor, Lord Aragorn," Celepharn said with a bow. "We have enjoyed this time with you and Prince Legolas. Perhaps you will visit us again before you leave for Imladris."

"I would like that very much," Estel replied.

The trip back was made somewhat faster than the trip out, for the afternoon was waning and it would be full dark before they got home. By the time they arrived, Estel welcomed the hot bath that Elrond had ready for him. He spent the rest of the evening until he was ready to sleep sitting quietly with Elrond, Mithrandir and Thranduil, telling them about his day, while Legolas and Glorfindel added their own comments from time to time.

"I think this has been the best birthday I’ve had in a long time," he confided to Elrond as his adar saw him to his rooms later. "Le hannon, Adar."

"You are most welcome, iôn nîn," Elrond said with a smile and bade his foster son a good night, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

****

Gwaeron continued apace and Estel spent the time regaining some of the skills he had lost during his long convalescence. He was often found working out in the training salle with Legolas or one of the other elves. Sword fighting was not a skill in which Wood Elves excelled, preferring the bow or long knives, but there were a few of the older elves who had fought at the Dagorlad and who were willing to spar with the mortal when Elrond or Glorfindel were not available. Many were amazed at the level of skill Estel exhibited in the use of the sword.

But when it came to archery the Wood Elves were in their element and Legolas and others enjoyed giving Estel pointers and helping to improve his skill.

"Your brothers taught you well," Legolas told him one day, "but I think they will be amazed at how much better you’ve become."

When he was not sparring, he was riding, going further and further afield each day. About a week after his visit to Celepharn’s village Elrond declared that Estel no longer needed to use a saddle. Both he and Mithfaron were very happy to hear that.

Mithrandir had announced that he was staying at least until the New Year. "Then I have a mind to visit Galadriel and Celeborn. There are matters I wish to discuss with them." But what these matters were he did not say unless he confided in Elrond, who kept silent. When Estel was not busy elsewhere, he spent time with Mithrandir and their friendship continued to grow and deepen.

One fine day as the two of them walked along the riverbank, Mithrandir said to him, "You are Isildur’s Heir, but do you know what that means?"

Estel looked at the Wizard with a confused look on his face. "Will you tell me?"

The Wizard nodded. "You are heir to the thrones of both Gondor and Arnor, though the Gondorians might dispute that claim. Nonetheless you are their king by right of succession through Fíriel, wife of Arvedui. But what do you really know of Gondor, save what you have been taught by Elrond and the elves? How do they live? What are their hopes and fears? Can you tell me?"

Estel stopped and stared into the swift flowing river, which at this time of year was nearly overflowing its banks with snow melt. Finally, he looked up at the Wizard and said, "I know nothing of these things."

"Yet, if you ever become their king, do you not think it wise to know these things and much else besides?"

Estel nodded at the wisdom of Mithrandir’s words. "But how can I know them? Do I abandon my people in the North to live in Minas Tirith?"

"Abandon? No. But for twenty years your people lived without your rule. Surely they can manage without it for a time while you learn what you need to know to be the king you are meant to be, if ever the time comes when you are king. Have you not appointed Lord Halberen as your Steward in your absence?"

Estel nodded. Halberen was his uncle, his mother’s brother and Halbarad’s father. He had been the leader of the Dúnedain for much of Estel’s childhood and when Aragorn had assumed the Chieftainship, he had appointed Halberen as his Steward.

"I do not counsel you one way or another," Mithrandir continued, "only this I will say — the elves have taught you much, but they are not Men and only Men can teach you what you need to know as a Man. Already you have seen this in your time with the Dúnedain, have you not?"

Estel nodded. It was true. Elrond and his brothers and the other elves of Imladris had taught him much, yet it was only as he began living among the Dúnedain that he began to realize how much he did not know about what it meant to be mortal, to be one of the Edain.

"I do not ask that you make a decision one way or another now," Mithrandir continued, "only that you think upon my words. You will know when the time is right to act on them, if that is your choice."

During the last week before the New Year the Stronghold became a hive of activity and everyone, from Thranduil on down, was conscripted to help out. Estel continued to meet with Legolas and his friends for their music practice and actually got quite good with the flute, though he preferred singing himself. During free moments they all helped out in decorating the Great Hall and tantalizing smells began to filter from the kitchens at odd hours when the usual mealtimes were hours away.

The New Year was strictly an elvish affair, so Estel and Mithrandir were the only non-elves involved, but Estel had grown up celebrating the New Year among the elves and Mithrandir was an old and trusted friend.

The celebrations actually began the night before as all the fires throughout the Woodland Realm were doused, save for a single coal from the king’s own hearth. From this single coal would the new fires be lit. Elves from each of the villages had come to the Stronghold earlier that day. Estel was surprised to see Gilgelair, as well as Celepharn, among them.

"The heads of the villages bear the responsibility of carrying the new fire to their villages," Gilgelair explained to him.

The actual ritual was simple and brief. Thranduil stood before them in all his finery, his face reflecting solemn joy. He called upon the Valar for their blessings, especially Manwë and Varda, as well as Aulë, for fire was Aulë’s special gift to the Children of Ilúvatar. Then the new fire was lit from the old coal and each village leader solemnly lit a brand from the fire and set out to their respective villages. The farthest village would be reached just at midnight, so as the New Year began every village in the Woodland Realm would have new fire to greet it.

Back in the Stronghold, the feasting began as soon as the ceremony was over and would continue throughout the night and into New Year Day. When the elves were not eating they were dancing or singing or even all three at once. Legolas and his friends played early in the evening and everyone complemented Estel on his flute playing afterwards.

However it wasn’t until after midnight that the serious celebrating began and Estel found himself with Legolas and their friends standing before a table where drinks were served and Legolas handed Estel a goblet.

"You have not been able to taste any Dorwinion since you arrived here, mellon nîn," Legolas said with a grin. "I think you have a lot of catching up to do."

Estel laughed with the rest of them and soon was tasting the heady wine. It was much stronger than he had expected and the young elves around him laughed and jested as he went into a coughing fit with his first sip.

"You’re supposed to drink it, Aragorn," Maedrust said with a straight face, slapping the Man’s back.

"Oh, is that what I’m supposed to do?" Estel asked, as if this were a novel idea to him. "I thought I was supposed to clean armor with it."

The elves laughed uproariously and urged him to try it again. The second sip wasn’t so wretched and by the third sip he opined that he was beginning to like it.

"Either that, or my throat has gone numb so I can’t tell if I’m drinking wine or bilge water."

This statement caused much merriment among the elves and Glorfindel, who had wandered over to see what Estel was up to, warned the mortal not to drink too much too fast.

"If you pass out, I’m not carrying you to bed," he said, giving the mortal a stern look that was somewhat spoiled by the laughter in the elf’s eyes.

"That’s all right, Glorfi," Estel said with a wicked grin. "If you pass out, I won’t carry you to bed either."

Legolas and the others snickered. Glorfindel merely rolled his eyes and then reached around to swat Estel on the back of his head as he went to find Elrond and Thranduil. Moving gracefully across the room, the golden-haired balrog slayer wondered if he’d ever been that young himself and then decided that he probably had been, but it didn’t bear thinking about.

Estel, meanwhile, was soon helping to finish off a second bottle of the Dorwinion, and though the wine was shared all around, the amount of drink imbibed seemed to increase as the night progressed. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth bottle Estel stopped counting and, Legolas suggested that he might want to slow down a bit. Most of the younger elves were not even drunk yet, but Estel, who had been trying to keep up with them all, was beginning to flag and at one point found himself sitting on Thranduil’s throne, though he had no recollection of how he had gotten there.

"I think you might have had enough, mellon nîn," Legolas said as Estel emptied the seventh bottle — or was it the eighth? — into his goblet. "Have you had anything to eat since drinking?"

Estel couldn’t remember and didn’t care. He tried to raise his goblet to his mouth but for some reason his hand became nerveless and he felt the goblet slip from his fingers. Legolas caught it in time and set it carefully on a nearby table out of Estel’s reach. Estel found himself trying to focus and having a difficult time of it.

"Are you all right, mellon nîn?"

Estel looked up to see Legolas smiling at him, though his eyes were dark with concern. It took a couple of minutes for the question to reach Estel’s wine-soaked brain and still more minutes before he could answer.

"I think I’m drunk," he thought he had said, though in truth it came out somewhat garbled. However, it really didn’t matter because Legolas was too busy catching him as he slid bonelessly to the floor.

****

Estel’s next concious thought was that he had somehow died but no one had had the decency to tell him. He was lying on something soft in a dark room. That much he figured out on his own. His head was pounding and he was wishing the Dwarves making all that racket would be a little quieter about it. His eyes refused to focus on anything for any length of time when he attempted to sit up, hanging onto the edge of the bed for dear life. The faint light of a candle flickering on the night table helped him to see that he was in his own room. He was also stark naked and had a moment of panic, thinking he may have removed his clothes in public while in his drunken state, but then saw them folded neatly on a nearby chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

He now realized he was in dire need of the privy but wondered if he could actually make it that far. Reaching under the bed and fumbling for the chamber pot, he fell out of the bed, sprawling on the floor, the breath driven out of him. When the room stopped spinning he frantically looked for the chamber pot but couldn’t find it anywhere until he looked up and realized that whoever had carried him to his bed had placed it on a chair next to the bed within easy reach.

His bladder finally empty, he managed to crawl back onto the bed, but the effort to pull the bedcovers over him proved too much and he sank into a stupor sprawled on his stomach.

****

It was the cold air that woke him the second time. He found he was shivering and tried vainly to get the bedcovers over him, but to no avail. Instead he decided to just get up. He felt awful and wasn’t sure he would survive the day. He wondered how late or early it was and dunking his head in the bowl of now cold water at the washstand he felt momentarily awake, but the feeling didn’t last. His stomach, he found, was feeling queasy and he didn’t know if he should hope he would throw up or hope that he wouldn’t. He finally managed to stumble into some clothes, though his tunic was on backwards and he could only manage to get one boot on. He limped out of his room carrying the other boot in his hand, not quite sure what he should do with it.

He opened the door to the corridor and saw his adar and Glorfindel talking to Thranduil, Legolas and Nessiel further down the hall by Glorfindel’s room. All five elves looked as fresh as if they had just come from their baths. He weaved his way to them and the elves stopped their conversation when they noticed him coming. Elrond and Thranduil wore similar inscrutable expressions. Legolas’ face showed a mixture of chagrin and concern but Glorfindel was grinning, though not maliciously. Nessiel was observing him with clinical detachment.

"Estel, what are you doing up?" Elrond said as Estel came abreast of them, sounding more like he had when Estel had been small and had been found out of bed after hours.

Estel clutched his boot as if it were a life line and whimpered, "Oh Valar, Adar. Would you please kill me?"

One of Elrond’s eyebrows rose at that and Thranduil and Glorfindel were practically snickering. Legolas looked on his friend with sympathetic pity and Nessiel’s face was lit with a knowing smile.

Keeping his expression neutral, Elrond said, "Certainly not, iôn nîn, at least not before breakfast."

"Br...break..."

But that proved too much for him and Estel grew frantic as he realized that he was going to be sick and looked around for something to be sick in. Glorfindel had the presence of mind to wrench the boot out of Estel’s hand and push him down on his knees.

"Take a deep breath, Estel," he commanded and then Elrond, who had also divined the mortal’s predictament had rushed into Glorfindel’s rooms and grabbed the chamber pot there, coming out and thrusting it under Estel’s nose just in time.

Afterwards, Estel remembered very little of what followed save that Glorfindel and Legolas helped him back into his room where they removed his sick-spattered clothes and cleaned him up before bundling him back into bed.

Meanwhile, Elrond was talking with Thranduil and Nessiel in the corridor.

"There is a tonic I will fix up for him, if I can get the ingredients. It will relieve most of his symptoms, though sleep is the best tonic for him at this point."

"We have devised our own tonic for such things," Nessiel said. "The younger elves sometimes drink more Dorwinion than is wise."

The two ellyn chuckled at that and with a gesture from Nessiel they left the vicinity of the guest quarters and made their way towards the infirmary.

"What ingredients go into your tonic?" the Woodland healer asked in curiosity.

"I usually use an equal portion of galas Tauron, galas Huor throvan, laiss e-melb rain throvan, laiss e-melb vorn and laiss e-melb garan."

Nessiel nodded. "That sounds very similar to our tonic, but I do not recognize that first herb. What is galas Tauron?"

Elrond looked thoughtful and then his face cleared. "Ai, you might know it better as Hîr-e-Daur."

"Oh, yes. It’s a quite common plant here. I have never heard it referred to as galas Tauron, though."

Elrond nodded. "It is actually a Sindarin rendering of the Quenya form of the name: salquë Oromëo, which is what the Exilic Noldor called it."

"Well we have all the ingredients you need. Do you have much call for the tonic, though?" She somehow thought that the more sophisticated elves of Imladris would be above overindulging in spirits and needing a tonic for it afterwards.

Elrond smiled, as if divining her thoughts. "No, but often the Dúnedain rangers come to Imladris looking for a cure for their hangovers, though in truth their own rough remedy is quite effective."

"Oh?" enquired Thranduil as the three elves entered the infirmary . "And what do they do for hangovers?"

"Well, first they start out with a raw egg...."

By the time Elrond had finished describing what the Rangers were wont to call 'the hair of the orc that bit you', both Nessiel and Thranduil were looking decidedly green themselves.

****

Estel woke sometime the next morning to find his adar encouraging him to drink something that didn’t taste as horrible as he had feared and that seemed to help clear his head so that he could actually think, then he sank gratefully back into sleep.

He woke again to see Legolas sitting patiently by his bedside with yet another dose of the tonic and some plain wheat gruel lightly mixed with honey and a little cream. At first Estel wasn’t sure he was ready for anything on his stomach but Legolas convinced him to at least take a swallow and when he did he suddenly felt famished and finished the bowl up.

By the next day, which was the last day of the month, Estel was feeling much improved though Elrond recommended he remain in bed and rest. He still felt woozy and terribly thirsty, but his appetite increased as the day progressed and by evening he was eating a regular meal, though he stayed in his rooms rather than going to the dining hall.

Mithrandir joined him for dinner, making it clear to the elves that he wished to dine with the Dúnadan alone.

"I will be leaving tomorrow and I want this last time with Aragorn before I leave," he told Elrond and Glorfindel when Elrond suggested they join the Wizard in dining with Estel.

"We will stop by later, then, to bid Estel good night," Elrond said.

"That will be fine, Elrond," the Wizard said with a nod and then quirked an eyebrow. "And when are you two going to start calling him Aragorn, heh?"

It was Glorfindel who answered, grinning hugely. "Probably the day after Arda ends, but certainly not before."

"Hmph, just as I thought," Mithrandir grumbled, but the Wizard was smiling.

When Estel awoke the next morning Mithrandir had already departed. Legolas met him in the dining hall for breakfast and told him.

"I will miss talking to him," Estel said, idly stirring his porridge but not bothering to eat any of it. "I will miss his wisdom and humor."

"Do not fret, Aragorn," Legolas said in a comforting tone. "You and Mithrandir will meet again and often, I have no doubt. Come, finish your breakfast and we will go riding."

And that is what they did.

**** 

For the next week, Estel and Legolas spent much of their time together, along with Legolas’ friends, riding mostly, but also simply exploring. They took a trip down the river to Esgaroth and visited Lake-town when Thranduil wanted Legolas to meet with Master Gorlas to discuss repairs to the docks used by the Wood Elves and Men in the transportation of goods. The docks had been destroyed by flooding after a sudden storm ripped through the area, leaving downed trees and a soggy mess.

After the meeting Legolas took Estel about and showed him the town, which was larger than any of the Dúnedain villages, indeed larger even than Bree.

Once they were finished with their business in Lake-town, they made their way back to the Stronghold by way of Dale and Erebor. Both Dain and Bard welcomed the young Dúnadan and his elvish escort and they spent three days between the two kingdoms. While they were there, Bard presented Estel with a gift.

"Although, I am really only returning what is already yours to begin with," the king said with a smile when they were sitting in Bard’s parlor one evening. Dain of Erebor was with them, having come to Dale for a feast that Bard had given in Estel’s honor.

He brought out a small ivory box intricately carved on the sides, with alternating black and white squares on the top and bottom. The black squares were obsidian inlay. It was hinged in such a way that when one opened the box, the top and bottom joined and you had a chess board, smaller than usual, but perfectly adequate for playing on. Inside the box in their own compartments were the chess pieces; half were white and the others had been stained black. They were perhaps half as large as such pieces normally were.

Estel gave the king a wondering look.

"You were not in any position to say yea or nay, but when the boar’s tusks were shown to Dain and me during the trade conference, I offered to take them and have something special made from them, as Elrond said he didn’t fancy having to haul them back to Imladris just so you could show off to your brothers."

They all laughed at that. Dain picked up the tale.

"I said that I would also like to do something special with the tusks for you. Lord Elrond suggested a chess board and pieces that could be easily carried, and that is what we made. I carved the box and put it together and Bard here did most of the chess pieces, though I think one or two others gave him a hand."

"There were rather a lot of them to carve," Bard said smilingly at Dain. "Luckily, the winters are long and dreary and I had plenty of free time."

"It’s beautiful," Estel said, running his hand admiringly along the side of the box, marveling at the small size of the chess pieces, yet each was easily recognizable. It took a moment or two to realize that no two pieces looked exactly alike. The faces were all individual and Estel suspected that their counterparts walked the streets of Dale and perhaps even the halls of Erebor.

Legolas also admired the chess set and said that it was one of the finest such works he had seen in a long time.

Estel couldn’t thank Bard or Dain enough, but both kings told him it wasn’t necessary.

"We both enjoyed it," Bard said with a laugh. "It was the best excuse I had for not being able to attend a council meeting."

The dwarf king merely smiled and nodded his head in agreement.

The next day Legolas and Estel returned to the Stronghold. It was now almost mid-month and Elrond told Estel that it was time they left for home.

"I promised Erestor we would be back by the beginning of Laer. If we leave now we should reach Imladris by then. I have even allowed time for delays, though I sincerely hope we do not suffer the kind of delays that plagued us on the way here."

"From your lips to the Valar’s ears, mellon nîn," quipped Glorfindel, but Estel mentally crossed his fingers, knowing just what his adar had meant.

The last night of their stay at the Stronghold, Thranduil held a feast in their honor. While it was a grand feast and there was much laughter and joking, it was also somewhat subdued and Estel allowed himself only a single goblet of Dorwinion, spending the rest of the evening drinking water or fruit juice. Still, everyone had a good time and Estel spent a good deal of the evening having various elves come up to him and wish him well on the journey home, for they would be leaving early and most of the elves would not be on hand to see them off.

Towards the end of the evening, Estel found himself alone with Legolas. They had said their goodbyes earlier, even though Legolas would actually be leading the escort seeing Estel, Elrond and Glorfindel out of the Woodland Realm, so there was little more they needed to say to one another.

"Perhaps someday you can make another visit," Legolas finally said after they had been sitting together in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"I’d like that," Estel said with a smile. "Or perhaps you can come to Imladris."

But Legolas shook his head. "The Shadow grows in the south. I fear I will be unable to travel anywhere for some while as long as our realm is threatened by what walks the halls of Dol Guldur."

Estel nodded. "I know. Adar worries about it too though he says little enough about it to me, but I know."

The two friends were silent for a time, Estel brooding on what the future might hold for him, and for Legolas. As if divining his thoughts, Legolas leaned towards him with a smile.

"Do not fret, Aragorn. I have no doubt that we will meet again. We’re gwedyr after all."

And Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain and Isildur’s Heir, smiled at his new brother and then they embraced, giving one another a kinsman’s kiss on the forehead.

Off to one side where they could see but not be seen, Elrond, Glorfindel and Thranduil watched the interplay between Legolas and Estel and grinned at one another. Then Elrond raised his goblet and the other two joined him in a silent toast.

****

Gwedyr: Plural of gwador: Sworn brother. 

Note: While the tonic recipe described by Elrond is not specifically for hangovers, it is nonetheless an actual "real-world" recipe. Mix in equal parts, then steep one heaping teaspoon into a half-cup of boiling hot water. Take as desired. The author takes no responsibility for its actual efficacy:

Galas Tauron: Tauronswort — Tauron is the Sindarin name of the Vala Oromë; also called Hîr-e-daur: Master-of-the-Wood; Woodruff (Asperula odorata) — used to improve the taste of mixed herbs; anodyne, calmative.

Galas Huor throvan: Wild Huorswort; Wild Thyme, Mother of Thyme (Thymus serpyllum) — tonic, good for hangovers.

Laiss e-melb rain throvan: Wild wandering berry leaves; Wild Strawberry (Fragaria vesca) — tonic.

Laiss e-melb vorn: Blackberry leaves (Rubus villosus) — tonic.

Laiss e-melb garan: Red berry leaves; European Red Raspberry (Rubus idaeus) — tonic, refrigerant.

     [S. *melb > Q. melpo: any berry with squashy pulp and many seeds]

Note: Halberen son of Dírhael and father of Halbarad, is, of course, an original character.

Epilogue: Sweet Home Imladris

The journey through the Woodland Realm back to the Annon-e-Daur proved uneventful and it was not long before Elrond, Glorfindel and Estel were waving goodbye to Legolas, Laslaerion, Galadhor and the rest of the escort as they left the forest eaves to head down the Vale of Anduin towards Beorn’s farmstead, for they were essentially retracing their route. Beorn welcomed them when they arrived on the evening of their fifth day from Mirkwood and this time they stayed for three days. Estel got to see the beehives and learned much about the care and feeding of bees and the harvesting of honey. The three travelers even helped Beorn turn the garden over for the spring planting.

"Anduin is running high still," he said on their last night together. "You may want to delay your crossing until it’s slowed some. Radagast will know when it will be safe to cross. It should be peaking anytime now, so I don’t think you will be overly delayed."

Elrond thanked him for the advice and when they reached Rhosgobel, where Radagast and the Woodsmen gave them a warm welcome, the brown Wizard said much the same.

"The river peaked yesterday," he said as he showed them their quarters, the same ones they had had before. "My guess is that you’ll have a week of waiting before you can cross safely."

"That’s all right," Elrond said. "It will give us time to wash clothes and rest the horses."

So they stayed in Rhosgobel for a week. During the day, Estel explored the settlement, as Radagast insisted on calling it, and joined in the spring planting along with everyone else. In the evenings he and the elves spent their time with Radagast telling him all that had happened with Thranduil and Legolas. Estel had to bring out the bone chess set for the Wizard to admire and they ended up playing a game most nights.

At last the river slowed enough to venture a crossing and so even as Gwirith was waning, the three travelers set out again. This part of the journey was new for Estel for he had been unconscious and being flown by an Eagle over much of the territory they were now traversing, so he observed the landscape with interest. The river crossing proved to be a large ferry manned by Woodsmen. They got the travelers over quickly enough and refused to allow them to pay, saying they had been given instructions by Radagast not to accept any money from them.

In the end, Elrond insisted that they be allowed to share some of their food with the ferrymen, claiming they had been given too much and it would relieve some of the load from the packhorse. It was an easy fiction to accept and both groups parted on a happier note.

As they slowly made their way across the vale towards the distant mountains, Estel began to feel more and more uneasy. He wasn’t sure why, for there was no sign of danger anywhere. The elves noticed him unconsciously rubbing a hand across his abdomen from time to time, as if trying to ease the memory of a distant pain, but neither commented on it, content to let the mortal speak first, if at all.

The evening of the fourth day from the river found them not far from the mounds where they had been attacked, but Estel resolutely refused to look in their direction and spoke little if at all the entire time they were there. The elves respected his silence; even Glorfindel did not press him with teasing words, much to Estel’s relief.

The next day Estel became more himself the further west they rode and when the mounds were no longer in sight he even broke out in a song the Woodsmen children had taught him, a silly little ditty about the forest animals. The elves grinned when they heard Estel singing and even joined in at the chorus.

Eagles kept them company now, flying high above them as they approached the mountains. Estel knew that with the Eagles on watch, no orc or goblin would threaten them. Nevertheless, as they came to the defile leading to the pass where the first orc attack had occurred, he found himself hesitating before following Elrond through. Glorfindel, coming from behind, did not pressure him but allowed him time to gather his courage and nodded in satisfaction when the young Man took a deep breath, then whispered a quick word to Mithfaron. With an answering snort, the horse made its way through the defile. If Glorfindel noticed Estel’s hand on his sword hilt the entire time they traversed the narrow way, he made no mention of it.

They ended up camping for three nights in the dell where they had found the firewood. The weather had turned sour the day before and a light sprinkle became an incessant downpour before too long. The dell was protected enough so they were generally dry, but there was no attempting the climb up the pass until it stopped raining.

"Even so," Elrond said as they huddled around the campfire, "the way will be treacherous and there may even be mudslides."

But late on the second day the rain came to an end and in the morning the sun burned hot and bright, almost as if trying to make up for the last two days. Elrond decided to give the sun time to do her work.

"We will start the climb a couple of hours before dawn, as we did before. Further up we will encounter snow even in the lower reaches but it should not be too difficult to traverse. Just keep your eyes and ears out for avalanches. Even now, they can be a danger."

They set out in the dark, their way illuminated only by starlight and torches, for the moon had long set. Still, it was not a difficult climb and by the time the sun rose behind them, they had gotten a third of the way up. They encountered little difficulty and Glorfindel was even able to point out where Estel had fallen off the cliff. Estel grew warm with embarrassment at the memory, but the two elves merely smiled at him.

"If nothing else, it’s a good story to tell your brothers when you see them," Glorfindel said with a grin, "though I might refrain from giving your naneth too many details."

Estel heartily agreed.

They reached the crest of the pass by noon and were down the other side before dark. Six days later, as evening was falling, the three travelers crossed the border into Imladris, being softly greeted by one of the border guards.

"Mae govannen, hîr nîn," the guard said with a bow. "Welcome back to Imladris."

"Thank you, Ivorhael," Elrond returned the guard’s bow with a grave nod, though his eyes were bright with humor. "I trust that Erestor has not moved Imladris during my absence or otherwise made too many changes in the decor."

Ivorhael grinned. "Not since the last time I was there my lord, a week gone, though you never know. There was a rumor going around that Erestor was planning something special for Lord Glorfindel, but as to the truth of that, I cannot say."

"Hmph, he better not have," Glorfindel snorted, not looking at all pleased. "I’ve had too many surprises on this trip already, I don’t need one now that I’m finally back home."

Ivorhael only grinned. "Well, it’s only a rumor, my lord."

The traveler’s took their leave of the guard and soon the Hidden Valley came into view, the lights of lanterns illuminating their way. Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir and Gilraen were on hand to greet them. Estel was surprised, though pleased, to see his Uncle Halberen standing alongside Gilraen, with Halbarad and Belegond flanking her on the other side.

Halberen was nearly as tall as Aragorn, though broader, a seasoned warrior, with sharp features that had seen much sorrow and pain, but also much joy. His dark hair was not yet tinged with silver, his grey eyes were clear and piercing and a light shone from them. Belegond was a grizzled old warrior who now spent his days training recruits. He was Halberen’s second and Aragorn trusted him implicitly. He was several decades older than Halberen and his hair was now completely white, yet his eyes, a deep blue, were unclouded and he was as hale as any other Man of middle years. Halbarad was his father’s son, save he was not as broad and his features were less harsh, reflecting his mother’s heritage. He was only three years older than Estel and they could have passed as brothers.

"This is a pleasant surprise," he said after greeting his uncle. They had since removed to the dining hall where a small informal dinner was waiting for them. "Am I to assume that all is well with our people?"

Halberen laughed as he sat down on Aragorn’s right at a table just below the high table. Belegond was on his left and Halbarad, who had said little, was seated across from him. Elrond, Estel noticed, had escorted Gilraen to the high table and he and Glorfindel were filling Estel’s mother in on what her son had been up to the past six months while they ate.

"Aye, nephew, all is well. Word came to us from Imladris that you were on your way back and so we thought to give you a proper greeting."

"I am glad you are here, uncle, and you too Belegond, for I have come to some decisions that will affect us all. I would have sent for you at any rate. The elves have saved me time."

His uncle turned grave, as did the others. "This sounds ominous, my lord."

Estel shrugged. "I think it best we speak of it in private. It is late now and I am weary. We will speak on the morrow, say at the third hour?"

The two older Men nodded to their Chieftain and the conversation turned to other, less grave, matters. Estel reluctantly gave them a sketchy report of the trip, glossing over much of it, though neither Halberen nor Belegond were fooled. Even Halbarad realized his cousin was leaving much unsaid and resolved to get the rest of the tale out of him soon. Before long though the meal ended and the three travelers pleaded fatigue and soon Estel was falling gratefully into his own bed to the sound of elves singing beneath his window.

****

The next morning Estel spoke briefly with Elrond before going to breakfast and then at the third hour he and Halberen and Belegond met on the porch where councils were often held among the elves. They had the place to themselves.

"You did not invite Halbarad to this meeting," his uncle said, speaking in Adûnaic, and looking puzzled.

Aragorn shook his head, replying in the same language. "What I have to say is for your ears only for now. Even Lord Elrond does not know of this."

Both men raised their eyebrows at that.

"Halbarad was a bit put out when you told him to remain with Lady Gilraen," Belegond said after a brief pause.

Aragorn shrugged. "He’ll get over it. He knows that there are some things I will not discuss with him as his Chieftain."

Halberen nodded. "So I have told him. You and he have become close, almost like brothers, yet he must never forget that your destiny is different from his and that you are as much his king as you are his cousin."

Aragorn put up a protesting hand. "I am no king, uncle."

The Steward of the North gave his nephew a shrewd look. "Perhaps not in actuality, but you are the king of both Arnor and Gondor by right of inheritance, whether you wear the winged crown and carry the sceptre of Annúminas or not."

Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgment of his uncle’s words. "Well, as your king, I have decided on a course of action that will be little welcomed by you or our people, I fear, but it is something that I believe must be done."

"Say on, my lord," Halberen said when Aragorn paused to collect his thoughts.

"During my visit to the Woodland Realm I met the Wizard, Mithrandir."

Both Men started at the name and Aragorn gave them an appraising look.

"I take it you’ve met him?"

Halberen nodded. "Indeed, yes, nephew, though I have not laid eyes on him these many years now. I remember when your father was first courting your mother that Mithrandir was in Imladris and often came out to speak with your grandfather." He paused and smiled at his nephew. "Both your grandfathers."

Aragorn smiled back with a nod. "I see."

"Perhaps more than I do," admitted the Steward, "though in hindsight I think that the Wizard might have had a hand in encouraging the relationship between Arathorn and Gilraen."

Aragorn looked thoughtful. "He did not specifically say he knew either of my parents, yet from what he did say, I gathered that he at least knew of them."

"I take it that that was the reason for the trip in the first place, then," inquired Belegond, "for you two to meet?"

Aragorn nodded. "One of the reasons. King Thranduil wished Lord Elrond to attend a trade conference between the Woodland Realm, Dale and Erebor while we were there."

"Let me guess," grinned the old warrior. "Some of those Dwarves do not have fond memories of Thranduil’s hospitality."

"Apparently," Aragorn gave a short laugh. "I finally heard the whole story of what happened from Mithrandir, though Thranduil and Legolas offered their own versions as well."

The three men laughed. When they had calmed down, Halberen said, "You were saying, my lord."

"Mithrandir gave me some things to think on, things I had not considered since taking up the office of Chieftain. I had not really thought things through, it seems." Aragorn paused and looked at Halberen. "You were correct, uncle, I am king of Arnor and Gondor, but while I know much now of my people here in the North, I know little enough of those in the South, or their allies."

"The Rohirrim," Halberen stated, nodding his head.

"Yes, and so, I have decided that I must learn of these people first hand. I cannot do so patrolling the lands between the Bruinen and the Baranduin. I must leave and make my way in disguise to Gondor."

"Disguise?" Belegond asked in surprise.

"Yes. I will leave behind the name of Aragorn son of Arathorn and travel as... as Thorongil, a Ranger from the North looking for employment elsewhere."

Both older men looked grave and Aragorn found himself holding his breath. He half expected and half feared an outburst from one or both of them, but he was determined to do this. He had thought about it during the entire trip back. He had even taken a few private moments with Bard of Dale, asking his opinion. The King of Dale had looked thoughtfully at the young man who might someday be king of two kingdoms and told him that he should do it only if he knew in his heart that it was the right thing for him to do.

"Such decisions can never be made with absolute certainty," Bard had told him. "Only in hindsight do we see that our decisions are right or wrong, but in the end, who is to say that any decision we make is either right or wrong, but merely the choice we have made? Yet whatever you decide, my lord, be prepared to accept the consequences of your decision."

Now Aragorn awaited the outburst he was sure was to come, but Halberen merely asked in a quiet tone, "How long do you plan to stay away?"

Aragorn breathed an inner sigh of relief. He knew that if he could convince Halberen, the rest of the Dúnedain would follow his uncle’s lead. "I do not know for certain, but I suspect it will be many years. Yet, I will not be completely out of contact. I will always let you know where I am so if necessary you may reach me."

"Where do you plan to go first?" Belegond asked next. "Gondor?"

Aragorn shook his head. "King Bard, when I asked him, advised that I begin in Rohan and enter the service of Thengel King. Thengel is a kindly man and a good warrior. If I do well in his service he will give me a good report to Ecthelion of Gondor. The Steward will be harder to convince to take on a nameless warrior than Thengel."

Both men nodded, for they were well aware of the political realities of the southern lands, more so than their Chieftain, though, Halberen reflected wryly to himself, that would likely change.

"You are correct, my lord. I little like it and I fear our people will like it even less," Halberen finally said, "but I see you are set on this course and I have known you long enough to know you will not be persuaded from it. Is this why you have not mentioned your plans to Lord Elrond?" Halberen cast a shrewd glance at his young Chieftain, but Aragorn merely smiled and shook his head.

"I have not spoken to Lord Elrond about this because it is not within his purview to say either yea or nay to any decision I make as Chieftain. I will seek his advice, for he is wise, but I will not seek his approval. That is no longer his to give or withhold save where it concerns Imladris and its people, and this does not."

Both men now gave their Chieftain appraising and even approving looks. "I think that this trip has proven beneficial to you, my lord," Belegond finally said.

"When do you plan on leaving?" Halberen asked, his expression worried. If Aragorn left so soon after being away for six months, it might cause some resentment among the Dúnedain.

Aragorn smiled, knowing what his uncle was thinking. "Rest assured, Uncle. I have no plans on leaving until next spring at the very earliest. The past summer was drier than usual and we lost some of our crops. I would not have left when I did if I had not had Lord Elrond’s assurances that Imladris would help our people through the winter. We must also spend some little time planning strategy and defense, as well as by what means and how often we will remain in contact while I am away. No, Uncle, I think you will be having me underfoot for the next year or so, never fear."

Belegond snorted in amusement at Aragorn’s tone. "Something tells me, Lord Halberen, that before that year is over we will both be happy to see this young scamp on his way."

The Steward laughed in agreement, then sobered at a thought. "There is one thing, Aragorn. If you do this, you do not do it alone. Someone must go with you."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at his uncle’s words but did not dispute the wisdom of them. "Not Halbarad," he said flatly and the two older men gave him surprised looks. Aragorn smiled thinly. "He’s too young."

Halbarad’s father snorted and Belegond, who had trained both Halberen and Halbarad grinned.

"Aye, he is too young, my lord Aragorn," Belegond agreed, "though I would be loath to tell him so to his face."

"As would I," Aragorn said with a smile. "Nevertheless, I will not take him with me."

"One of the other cousins, then," Halberen said, obviously thinking things through. "Gilhael or even Dírvrand," naming two cousins on Aragorn’s father’s side who were several years older than Halbarad and both seasoned warriors.

"Gilhael will do if he is willing," Aragorn said after thinking about it. "Isn’t Dírvrand betrothed to your sister’s daughter, Belegond?"

Belegond smiled. "Aye, that he is, my lord. They are due to wed come Midwinter."

"Then I will not willingly force him to leave his bride so soon after. Gilhael is unattached still and his leaving will not be so hard."

"Will you ask him then, or shall I?" Halberen asked, already knowing the answer.

Aragorn shook his head. "If you will send word to him to come to Imladris, I will speak to him."

Halberen nodded and said, "Then we are settled on this? Next spring or thereabouts you and Gilhael will travel south to Rohan to take service with Thengel King?" Aragorn and Belegond nodded. Halberen looked at his Chieftain and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I imagine that this was the easy part, wasn’t it, nephew?"

Aragorn blushed slightly, knowing what his uncle meant. "Aye, Uncle. Convincing you and Belegond was the easy part. Now I have to convince my mother."

Both Halberen and Belegond laughed and Aragorn blushed even more.

****

Gilraen heard her son out later that afternoon, her expression neutral. After he had outlined his plans she sat there in silence, then asked to be left alone to reflect on his words. Aragorn was reluctant to leave it like that but decided he had no choice and with a respectful bow, left.

Five minutes later, Gilraen was standing before the door of Elrond’s library about to do the one thing she had vowed never to do — ask Elrond to intercede on her behalf to her son.

"Do you know what Estel plans?" she asked after Elrond opened the door to her knock and led her to a seat.

The elf-lord said nothing at first. He and Glorfindel had noticed that Estel had been somewhat preoccupied during the journey back but when he had inquired about it to his foster son Estel had merely stated that Mithrandir had given him something to think about, but would not elaborate.

Elrond did not mind that Estel had not confided in him about what he and Mithrandir had spoken about. It was after all the primary, indeed the only real reason for the entire trip in the first place. Attending the trade conference had been a nice legal fiction. Now he sat across his desk from Estel’s mother, whose posture reflected disbelief and anger.

"Tell me," Elrond finally commanded quietly and Gilraen did.

When she was finished, the elf-lord sat back in contemplation. "It is a bold plan, and a worthy endeavor," he said at last, much to Gilraen’s displeasure. "No lady," Elrond held up a hand to forestall Gilraen’s protest. "I understand your concern, but we both gave up any right to dictate Aragorn’s actions the day I told him of his heritage. And it is not as if he does this alone. Gilhael is an excellent warrior and totally devoted to Aragorn. He will protect our son."

And that last was the catch. Gilraen had allowed the Lord of Imladris to raise Estel as his own son, though he was always careful to ask Gilraen’s permission before making any major decision concerning the boy’s upbringing and education. She knew how much Elrond loved her son, no less than he loved his own.

She sighed and nodded her head. "Forgive me, Elrond, I fear I’ve allowed a mother’s concern to cloud my judgment."

"There is naught to forgive, Gilraen," Elrond rose from his chair and came around the table to lay a comforting hand on Gilraen’s shoulder. "I would be disappointed if you did not express such concerns and I am glad that you came to me with them. I am afraid that I cannot give you the answer you seek, but I can give you my promise that I will do what I can to ensure our son’s well being, wherever he is."

Gilraen smiled tremulously, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you, my lord, your kindness towards me and my son is more than we deserve."

"No lady, I only regret that what I can give is little enough."

**** 

Later that evening Elrond asked Aragorn to join him in Elrond’s study.

"Your naneth was most upset, iôn nîn," Elrond said without preamble.

"I know, Adar, and I regret that it was so, but..."

Elrond held up a hand. "It is well, Aragorn. Gilraen understands why you do this, little though she likes it. She has several months to get used to the idea."

Aragorn gave his foster father a shrewd look. "You do not seem upset that I did not consult with you first."

Elrond smiled and placed his arm around Aragorn’s shoulders. "You are my son, it is true, but you are also Chieftain of the Dúnedain. My wisdom I will always give you should you ask, but I will never interfere with any decision you make concerning your own people. I trust you to make wise choices. It is what you’ve been trained for."

He leaned over and gave Aragorn a kiss on his forehead and squeezed his shoulder. "Now why don’t you tell me what you have planned."

It was late when they parted and Aragorn went to bed with many things to think about for Elrond had had much wisdom to impart to his foster son.

****

Halbarad was feeling hurt and confused.

His cousin had virtually ignored him since returning to Imladris. First he had refused to allow Halbarad to attend the meeting he held with Halbard’s father and old Belegond, then after luncheon Aragorn told him that he wanted Halbarad to go with his brothers and Lord Glorfindel to the training field and have the elves check on his progress with sword and bow. Halbarad wanted to refuse, but the look on Aragorn’s face told him it would be better if he didn’t.

Nor did he have any luck cornering Aragorn after the welcoming feast that evening, for etiquette demanded that Aragorn sit at the high table with his elvish family and afterwards there was singing and story telling in the Hall of Fire. Even then, Aragorn attended only for about an hour before Lord Elrond beckoned him away and neither was seen again for the rest of the evening.

All in all, it had been a frustrating day for the young Ranger, so he was rather surprised when the next morning as he sat down for breakfast Aragorn approached him.

"Ride with me after breakfast, Cousin," Aragorn said quietly then went to greet his mother before Halbarad even had time to respond. Halbarad looked at his father sitting across from him who merely smiled and gave a small shrug. The young Ranger sighed as he went back to his porridge.

An hour later, he and Aragorn were riding out of Imladris, each armed with bow and arrows as well as swords, for it never occurred to them not to go so armed even within the Hidden Valley. As usual, Aragorn was riding saddleless, which, even after all these years, still unnerved Halbarad for some reason. In the years since joining the Dúnedain, Aragorn had divested himself of much of his elvish ways, but he never stopped riding elvish style and it was a subtle reminder that mortal though he may be, Aragorn son of Arathorn was a nearly pure-blooded Númenórean and a direct descendent of Lord Elrond’s twin brother, Elros.

The two cousins wended their way towards the upper reaches of the valley, riding in companionable silence for most of the time. It wasn’t until they reached a certain meadow that Aragorn stopped and suggested they rest for a bit, climbing down from Mithfaron even as he spoke. Halbarad followed suit and soon they were seated on a fallen log watching a doe and her twin fawns crossing the meadow, nibbling on wildflowers as they went, while the two horses munched placidly on meadow grass nearby.

"I am sorry for seemingly ignoring you, Halbarad," Aragorn said without preamble, "but that was not my intent."

Now that it came to it, Halbarad was at a loss as to what to say. He knew that there were aspects of Aragorn’s life to which he was not privy, especially in Aragorn’s role as Chieftain, but it still hurt when he was left out of things. He was after all older than Aragorn, even if only by three years, and he had hoped that in the last five years he had gained his Chieftain’s trust.

"Nor is it a matter of not trusting you enough," Aragorn added and smiled thinly as his cousin started, looking at him in surprise before blushing and turning away.

"I needed to discuss certain matters with your father and with Elrond first before I was ready to speak to you about them."

"What matters?"

So Aragorn told him. Halbarad was not pleased at the thought that Aragorn was going to leave him behind — again.

"Why can I not go with you? Gilhael is old and much too serious for his own good. I thought we were brothers."

Aragorn smiled sympathetically. "Gilhael is only forty and a far more seasoned warrior than either you or I. Halberen and Belegond both insisted that whoever accompanied me had to be older and hopefully wiser in order to curb any youthful exuberance I might suddenly display. And we are brothers." He placed his arm around his cousin’s shoulder, giving him a quick hug. "But your father needs you by his side. He’s going to need your help while I am gone."

"What help can I give him that Belegond doesn’t already give?" Halbarad asked with a skeptical look.

"The help that any heir gives to his sire," Aragorn replied gravely. "Halbarad, in case it has escaped your notice, you are Halberen’s heir and as such you will succeed him as my Steward here in the North someday. I need you to start learning what that means and you can’t learn it if you are trailing after me."

Halbarad stared at his younger cousin in surprise. It had never occurred to him when Aragorn had appointed Halberen as his Steward that the office might be hereditary. "Do you really mean that?"

Aragorn nodded. Halbarad stared out across the meadow in thought and Aragorn sat there patiently, willing to let his cousin take as much time as he needed to accept what he had just learned.

Finally, after several minutes of contemplation, Halbarad turned to Aragorn with a smile. "Well I still think Gilhael is an old stick-in-the-mud, but I guess as long as you have to put up with him, that’s all right."

Aragorn laughed and grabbed his cousin in a bear hug. "Just for that, I’ll make sure you spar with Erestor tomorrow."

"Ai, you wouldn’t dare!" Halbarad laughed, struggling futilely.

Aragorn released him and stood up. "Come on, let’s ride for real."

"But only if you tell me what really happened on that trip. I tried to get Glorfindel to tell me yesterday but he just grinned in that infuriating way elves have and said naught."

Aragorn relented as he jumped onto Mithfaron’s back. "Very well," he said and proceeded to tell his cousin about the events of the last six months as they rode. They were heading back to Imladris by the time Aragorn had finished, not sparing himself in the telling, much to Halbarad’s surprise and amusement. The thought of his Chieftain falling off a cliff was hilarious, but he managed not to laugh too loud at that. It was the boar hunt that impressed him the most, though, and he looked admiringly at the quiver depicting the scene when Aragorn showed it to him.

When Aragorn at last finished his tale he gave his cousin a stern look. "Adar and I have agreed that Gilraen will never learn from us the full story of what happened to me, so if you ever tell my naneth what I just told you, you’ll regret it."

"Valar forbid, Aragorn!" Halbarad said in a shocked voice, "I won’t even tell my naneth!" and Aragorn had to laugh at that because Lady Barawen was perhaps the most unflappable woman he had ever met, and unlikely to be shocked by anything anyone told her.

**** 

A week later Gilhael rode into Imladris and for several hours he, Aragorn, Halberen and Elrond were closeted together in Elrond’s study. When he came out he had a rather bemused look on his face, but otherwise responded cheerfully enough to the greetings offered by the elves as he walked through the halls of the Last Homely House. He spoke briefly with Gilraen, though none heard what was said. Afterwards, though, many remarked how the Lady Gilraen appeared calmer than she had been in the last week since her son’s return and wondered.

As Midsummer neared, Imladris was visited by several Dúnedain leaders, village heads and Ranger captains alike. They gathered on the council porch and awaited their young Chieftain. None knew why the meeting had been called nor what it might mean. At last Aragorn appeared, flanked by Halberen and Belegond and preceded by Gilhael, acting as guard. Surprisingly, Lord Elrond, his sons, and even Lord Glorfindel, joined them.

Aragorn greeted them gravely, speaking in Adûnaic, for the elves who attended the meeting were all familiar with the language. For many of them, the village heads especially, this was their first trip to Imladris and the fact that these four elf-lords spoke their language so well greatly impressed them. Their Chieftain explained the reason for the meeting and outlined his plans for the future. Many were shocked at first, especially the captains who looked upon Aragorn as one of their own and resented the fact that they would lose not only his expertise and leadership skills but also those of Gilhael, who was widely respected among the Rangers.

It took several hours of arguing back and forth, but in the end, the Dúnedain were forced to acquiesce to Aragorn’s plan. Their only consolation was that in their Chieftain’s absence Lord Glorfindel and the sons of Elrond had agreed to join the patrols of the Rangers on a more regular basis, thus adding to their strength.

As the meeting at last broke up and the Dúnedain were being escorted by Erestor to the Feasting Hall for the evening meal, Aragorn sat back in his chair and breathed a sigh of relief, then glanced up at Gilhael, who was standing behind him, with a questioning look. Gilhael’s expression was grave and unrelenting, as befitted the Chieftain’s guard. His older cousin looked down at him, saying nothing, and then, slowly, he winked.

****

From the diary of Gilraen hervess Arathorn:

Ormenel, 1 Norui, T.A. 2957:

Today my Estel left to take service with Thengel King of Rohan. With him went his cousin, Gilhael. I do not know when next I will see him, but I fear it will be many years as Men account them. Halberen suggested that I might return to the Angle to live, now that the need for secrecy is no longer necessary, but I hesitate to do so. Perhaps I will visit, for I have missed my family these long years, but Imladris is my home now and I wish to be here when my son returns.

A silly notion, for he could just as easily find me among our kin as here, but I think that in his heart Estel will always consider Imladris his home and it will not be ‘home’ unless his adar and I are both here to greet him.

I pray the Valar will protect him and Gilhael, especially from blind cliffs and raging boars....

****

Hervess Arathorn: Wife of Arathorn.

Ormenel: Wednesday.

Norui: June.