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.