Chapter 6 - The Bonds of Friendship

"Eldarion, would you pay attention to what I am telling you? If you continue as you do, you will inevitably shoot Elanor with that arrow, and I am then quite certain that Orophin will be obliged to kill you. He is a mild elf, but he has his limits. By the Valar, Eldarion, you pull a bow as badly as your father!" Rúmil glared at his rather inept pupil, and cursed the day he had agreed to help teach this pup to use a bow. Eldarion’s face was red at the insult to his skill and his father.

"My father is a great warrior! He is a king!"

"Aye, he is a great warrior. . .with a sword. With a sword, I would not do battle with your father. With a bow, we are lucky if he can provide the occasional coney for the stewpot. Why do you think he has cursed elves with your instruction? Legolas, I vow that the minute you are well, you shall resume this burden!"

Sensing that tempers were rapidly reaching a flashpoint, Orophin grinned and handed Elanor to Rosie. He walked slowly over to the frustrated child and crouched beside him and winked so that only Eldarion could see.

"Oh, he is not so bad as all that, brother. I grant you that Aragorn is hopeless, but his mother is elven, and she draws a bow quite nicely." Orophin grinned at the boy and put his arms around him on the pretense of adjusting his grip on the small bow Legolas had fashioned for him. "Perhaps part of his problem is that he has a cave troll to teach him today?" Eldarion shrank back against Orophin as Rúmil whirled around and glared at his brother. Orophin merely laughed. "Oh, don’t glare at me, Orc Brother! I have been glared at by Haldir for a thousand years, and your fell face is as nothing to what he can produce."

"You call me an orc, loved brother? A cave troll?"

"Perhaps I was wrong? Uruk would be more accurate?" Rúmil glared at his younger brother for exactly two more seconds. Then, he began to laugh. In all their lives together, neither he nor Haldir had ever been able to long resist the open face and heart of their little brother. "You are right. I am an orc today. But NOT a cave troll, little one. I draw the line at that."

"I will grant then that perhaps I mistook me when I did say cave troll. Pray accept my apologies, Brother Uruk."

"You do recall that you are the baby of our family and owe me respect?" Rúmil growled in mock anger.

"Aye, I am the baby, although you were perhaps two inches shorter than I when last Haldir measured?"

"Height is not everything, Brother Longshanks. Who is it that always has to rescue you?" Softly, Rúmil touched the loved face of his brother. His anger and impatience with Eldarion had been forgotten. He felt his heart heal if only a little as he looked into Orophin’s eyes and saw there understanding of what drove his anger.

"You do, Rúmil, and I do love you so for it. You are a good orc to your baby brother. You are a good orc to us all." He smiled up innocently with his arms still around Eldarion. The child had begun to relax and smile again as he listened to the brothers tease one another in love.

Eldarion was a lonely child. He oft wished for a brother or even a playmate. The boys of Gondor seemed not to wish his company, and his adults were so often busy. Gondor was still recovering from the evil of Sauron. It demanded much from his father’s time and his mother’s heart. Sometimes, it seemed to him that the only ones who noticed him were the elves of Ithilien. The elves and now the hobbits.

Eldarion was glad that the hobbits had come visiting. Elanor had become a baby sister for him to carry, a small and precious being who thought Eldarion was brave and strong. Orophin said she carried Arda’s sunshine in her heart, and Eldarion agreed.

Sam had taught him to make rope and do many humble tasks that were still important. And, Sam had been patient with his mistakes. Eldarion had already decided that when he was grown he would be a gardener just like Sam. That would be better than being the king of Gondor.

But his favorite was Rosie. Rosie was always laughing, and she baked wonderful things for the children and elves to eat. She let him and Orophin steal tarts from the table and pretended she never counted right.

Once, she had even let Orophin lead him jumping onto and over the newly made beds as they sought the corsairs of Umbar, who had captured the fair Princess Elanor. Indeed, she had laughingly come running to rescue poor Sam from their fury. For as the last remaining corsair, her Sam was in a fair way to losing his hobbit life from the flanking assault of the two warriors of Elanor. Rosie the Istar had calmly proposed lunch, and the great battle had ceased amid deep concern from the warriors for Sam’s bumped head and bruises.

And, Rosie always had time for the son of Gondor’s king. She stroked his hair and kissed him dozens of times each day and straightened his tunic when he tussled with Elanor. She fretted aloud that he was too thin, despite Orophin’s assurances that all elflings were thin. She worried about him, and Eldarion thought that must mean she loved him. He worried about his father and mother, and he loved them so much. They were busy, though, and important. He was only a small part of their lives.

His own mother was so sad lately. Eldarion hesitated to bring her his problems. He had told her once that the other boys of Gondor made fun of him and laughed at his ears. She had cried so, that Eldarion had felt guilty. He was brave. He was Aragorn’s son. He must not trouble his mother with his small problems.

Besides, he told himself, Legolas and all the Galadhrim who stood as his uncles had the same ears as he did. He did not remember his grandfather or his real uncles. They had come when he was a baby, a long time ago to him. Eldarion thought their ears were probably pointed too. The twins were supposed to look like his mother and hers were. He wondered if his grandfather Elrond would have loved him had he stayed to see him grow. That thought troubled him, and he pushed it away. Elrond had fought with Gil-Galad at Dagorlad. He had always been brave. Eldarion wished he knew what Elrond looked like.

No one dared laugh at any of these tall elves. When he was grown, Eldarion vowed these boys of Gondor would no longer laugh at him. He would be too great a warrior then. He didn’t like Gondor. He wished he were able to leave.

Perhaps Ada would honor his great-grandfather’s request that he be allowed to visit? Eldarion hoped so. Celeborn’s ears were pointed, and none laughed at him. Besides, he told such wonderful stories, and let Eldarion creep into bed beside him at night. Sometimes, Eldarion lay on top of him, and his whole body would shake when Celeborn laughed. He liked that great booming laugh, and the way the wise hands stroked his hair and his back as he lay there.

Here in Gondor, only Legolas when he visited would allow Eldarion into his bed. Eldarion sometimes crept to his friend’s bedside, afraid of the night. Legolas was brave, and he always made Eldarion feel brave, or at least braver.

Legolas never laughed when told a cave troll might be under the bed. Instead, he would quickly hand Eldarion one of his white knives and grasp the other himself. Then he would hiss to Eldarion to be silent as they crouched and crept carefully to check the sleeping chamber for the fell beast. Legolas said a warrior who took such precautions would live to fight in the next battle, and he praised Eldarion for bringing this grave matter to his attention.

When the troll had been banished, he would take Eldarion into his arms and hold him, telling stories or singing until he made Eldarion fall asleep. And in the morning, Legolas would still be holding him, and Eldarion would feel the brave elf’s quiet breathing as his own cheek was pillowed on Legolas’ chest. He would drink in the smell of the grown elf, a smell of the woodlands somewhere far from Gondor, a smell of courage and wisdom that comforted Eldarion as he buried his face deeper into the sleeping elf’s warm body.

Then, Legolas’ eyes would come into focus, and he would smile at the small one burrowed beside him. Eldarion loved that first sleepy smile that his friend would give him. It meant that his presence was cherished, and that here he was home.

And now, Legolas was so ill that he might die. Eldarion pushed that thought quickly from him. Elves did not die. They were immortal. Legolas was the strongest and the fairest elf in Ithilien. Eldarion knew this was so. Legolas could never die. Legolas must always be there to sing for him. To tell him stories. To laugh and run with him through the forests. Legolas must be there to call the birds to them and tell him stories of his mother as a child. Legolas just was to Eldarion. He could not live without him. He knew that.

Now though, all the grown ones in his life were keeping him from the side of his friend. They thought him not brave enough to be there. They thought the sight of his friend in such pain would frighten Eldarion.

Eldarion remembered the tale that Legolas had oft told Elanor and him, the tale of Finrod and Beren. It was one of his favorites. Finrod had been brave and met his end for his friend. Always in his mind, the boy knew that Legolas was Finrod. Courage was in all of the bones of his friend. He would gladly meet his doom for Eldarion.

In Orophin’s arms, the child of Aragorn drew himself up and lifted his head in determination. He knew his path.

"Rúmil, you once said that if I ever hit the center of the target, you would give me whatever I wanted. Was that true?" Rúmil really had been a cave troll this day, and Eldarion’s heart beat so hard in his chest as he asked that he was sure the grown elf would hear it.

Startled, Rúmil looked at the boy’s face. Had he made this child so afraid of him today? Orophin’s eyes told him that he had, and Rúmil cursed himself. He had not meant to be unkind. Gently, he touched the boy’s shoulder.

"It was true, Eldarion, if it be something in my power to grant you. Do you think that you can do it?"

He was not sure at all. Still, Eldarion squared his thin shoulders and drew himself out of Orophin’s arms. He stood straight and still and held his breath as he had been taught by Legolas. Carefully, he drew back the bowstring. He thought of what he so wanted and let the arrow fly.

Rosie laughed and applauded, and he heard Elanor clapping her own tiny hands. Orophin was smiling at him, and that gave Eldarion the courage to look.

His arrow was dead center in the target. He looked up at Rúmil and, to his surprise, his stern teacher bowed his head to his skill.

"A fine shot, Eldarion. You have done well. What reward would you claim?"

"I want to visit Legolas. He needs me. I am his friend"