Chapter 9:  Estel is finally arriving

Glorfindel refilled the glass Elrond was holding up. Both elves were sitting comfortably in front of the great hearth in Elrond’s study.

Over the past two weeks the Elf-lord seemed quite content and was acting normally, yet Glorfindel could not restrain himself from an occasional critical glance in his friend’s direction. Only two weeks before the warrior had almost been forced to accept his Lord’s death.

Glorfindel still shuddered when he remembered that dark time when all hope seemed lost. Although Elrond appeared normal Glorfindel refused to make the same mistake twice and allow himself to be fooled by the acting ability of the peredhil.

Even though everyone had seen how the healer had been suffering from the destructive way his sons had behaved, it had still been a shock for all when the Elf-lord had decided to take the drastic step of fading.

Fortunately, the Valar had taken action and reunited the Half-elven family. Until yesterday Glorfindel had not known what had happened and that in fact, the Powers were responsible for the positive change.

Even if greatly curious, Glorfindel would have never asked his Lord what occurred two weeks ago, yet yesterday evening the healer had suddenly related how the Valar had confronted him and his sons and how some clarifying and long overdue words had been exchanged.

The twins and their father had rediscovered a level of understanding and, most importantly, the brothers had turned their back on their single-minded desire to destroy as many orcs as possible.

Many things had led to Elrond's decision to fade, but this had been one of the reasons. Another had been his constant fear that his beloved sons would be slain while engaged in their hopeless quest of hate. The fact that they seemed to have now returned to their former selves, their home, and to his heart, brought him great joy.

Two days ago, Elladan and Elrohir had brought down the cottage they had resided in for the last hundred years. The destruction was a visible symbol of their return and their pledge of a new start. After resettling in their old rooms, the brothers had taken time to talk with their father, speaking about their many unvoiced feelings, their lingering grief and the many misunderstandings and disappointments that had peppered their relationship with each other and with their father.

This was exactly what the healer had needed to recover from his near-death experience, and Glorfindel had closely observed the process. Only an hour before, the warrior had taken some time to talk with the healer. Slowly Glorfindel allowed himself to take a deep breath and start believing that something positive could be restored from their former life.

Of course, nothing would replace the loss of Celebrían, yet a new kind of contentment had begun to settle over the valley. Several days before, Elrond had even reclaimed his study and started work on the backed-up correspondence.

The twins had also resumed their duties and yesterday, had ridden out to meet with Arathorn, the current chieftain of the Dúnedain. Arathorn and his wife had insisted the brothers attend the birthday of their one-year-old son, Aragorn.

The brothers had gladly accepted the invitation and had nearly driven the residents in the Last Homely House insane with endless requests about what they should bring as a gift.

They had finally decided on a beautiful little pony and Elrond had suggested that they should invite the whole family to visit Imladris and give the little horse to the infant when they had arrived. Assigned to patrol with Arathorn´s rangers the next day the twins had immediately departed to deliver the invitation. Elrond was happily anticipating meeting yet another descendant of his brother.

* * *

Elrond and Glorfindel were sitting comfortably in their chairs positioned on the front porch, waiting for the chieftain’s family to arrive. On a table in the Hall of Fire were many more gifts for the young child, Aragorn, waiting to be opened. The valley's elves rejoiced, anticipating having a young child in their midst again.

Yet the evening had passed and night was quickly approaching. The celebratory mood diminished when it became obvious that the delegation was tardy. When the healer began to pace Glorfindel rose with a sigh and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“This delay might mean nothing. You know how unpredictable such patrols can be.”

Elrond turned and looked at the warrior, unable to hide his worry.

“Yes that is exactly what worries me, Glorfindel. But beside this….”

The Balrog-slayer narrowed his eyes. It was obvious there was more to Elrond's agitation than the obvious.

“What do you perceive, Elrond?” Glorfindel asked. His stomach roiled as his uncertainty reflected in his gut.

Elrond sent a piercing look toward the warrior, causing him to take a step back.

"Something has happened to the patrol, Glorfindel. My sons are highly agitated.”

Elrond turned and left the front porch, but Glorfindel remained and watched the road until dawn approached, accompanied by a drizzling rain.

…………………………………

The next day passed painstakingly slowly. No word reached the valley about what could have caused the twins and the small family to arrive so late.

The negative feeling Elrond had received from his sons had meanwhile changed into feelings of desperation and grief. The elves of Imladris prepared themselves for more bad news arriving shortly.

When dusk once again was approaching a border guard announced that some riders were approaching the valley. Half an hour later three riders came down the winding road and proceeded toward the house over the lawn. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. Two of the riders were unmistakably the twins but the third rider he could not make out. From the general appearance, however, he thought it was a woman.

His guess was soon confirmed when the three arrived at the house and were welcomed by Elrond. Several elves came from the house and stables to care for the horses and take the packs to the assigned rooms.

The healer received a tightly wrapped bundle and then helped the woman down from her horse.

“Welcome to Imladris, Lady Gilraen,” Elrond greeted the slender woman. Her eyes were red rimmed and her gait was unsteady. She nodded acknowledgement at the Elf-lord but quickly retrieved her son from the healer’s arms.

Catching Glorfindel's eyes over the head of the woman, Elrond guided her toward the house. It was obvious that the patrol had been waylaid. The details would soon be told. Whatever had happened to Arathorn would not be a mystery for much longer, but it was more than likely sad tidings. The sober faces of the twins already told as much.

Only now Glorfindel recognized the packhorse trailing behind the older twin’s steed as belonging to Arathorn. He sighed. He knew how close the brothers had become with the human chieftain. With a reassuring squeeze to Elrohir´s shoulder Glorfindel followed Elrond into the house. At least the chieftain’s infant son had been rescued. It seemed that all hope was now lying with this small child.

……………………………….

Elrond smiled as he watched young Estel squeal when Elladan tossed him high into the air. Elladan pretended to miss catching him while Elrohir snatched the boy from the air. The child seemed to never tire of this game.

Although the reason for the young child's appearance in the valley was sad, Elrond was nonetheless glad because the protection of the child had given his sons a new perspective. In addition, when he was honest with himself, he also treasured having another Dúnedain child in his house. The possibility of educating yet another possible candidate for the throne was exciting.

For short moments it took his thoughts off his own loss and gave him a new purpose. The infectious good mood of the child and his open attitude pushed the positive atmosphere in the house immensely.

From the first moment, Elrond had known that this boy was something special. He had fostered many descendants of Isildur, yet before now there had never been a single aspirant who had the right to both demand and claim the throne.

This child was different. Sadly, he now had to grow up without the guidance of his charismatic father, yet Elrond was sure the elves would make up for this shortage and the healer held high hopes for the upbringing of this child.

Some problems had to be resolved first. Lady Gilraen was not all happy to be in the valley and the first talks with her had been disappointing. Elrond had demanded some changes in the young boy’s life if he should accept the responsibility to prepare him for his future role.

The most important thing to accomplish was to erase the boy’s presence from the awareness of the world. To show how important it was for the boy’s safety, Elrond had started to call the boy Estel - hope - but his mother had not followed his example in this.

Elrond knew that he had to be adamant; otherwise, the young Lord's future would swiftly follow his father’s fate. Although he was kind and gentle to the grieving widow in the first weeks, Elrond’s patience grew thinner with every passing day. The fear that word would spread that the heir of Isildur was still alive gnawed at his conscience.

Even if he had sent word into the world that the child was slain along with his father, the Last Homely House was home to many visitors and it would be only a matter of time until someone would determine what new resident was now living here.

It grieved him to see how difficult it was for Gilraen to settle into the new community. Even if the elves showed only kindness to her and her child, fulfilling her every wish, she remained distant and reserved. Unconsciously her reticence influenced her child's response to the elves, causing him to hold back and not open up fully to them.

This changed one evening when the little boy surprised them all. Gilraen had just brought her son to bed and like every evening Elrond appeared also to bid the boy a good night. Gilrean accepted this with reluctance, yet she knew that she had to accept his presence if she wanted a safe refuge for her son.

When Elrond had settled on the bed, the little boy suddenly looked up at him with huge eyes. Pointing a finger first at himself and then at the healer he stated:

“Me Estel. You Ada.”

Momentarily rendered speechless, Elrond looked at the child in wonder. The boy had not only accepted his new name he had also used two elvish words and he had brought him the greatest joy he could think of. He had now been called Ada once again.

The strangled sob of Gilreaen and her hurried departure only marginally diminished his joy. He would speak to her later and he had already sent a thought requesting his sons to look after the Lady. Elrond hugged the little boy to his chest and stroked his unruly locks.

“Yes you are our Estel, and I am your Ada, if you want me to be. Welcome to my house, heir of Isildur.”

Even if the boy did not understand the strange words spoken in Sindarin he grasped the meaning and the loving tone. He fastened his little arms around his new father’s neck and within minutes he was asleep.

Gently Elrond placed the boy back on the bed and silently left the room. With a last look he glanced back at the sleeping child before he gently closed the door.

Yes, hope had finally arrived in the valley.

The end.