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Tâd Edhel a Firion   by Fiondil

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".





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