Post by Admin on Jan 8, 2021 1:55:55 GMT
Author: Darkover
Rating: K+, for some violence
Summary: After not being allowed to go hunting with the twins, young Estel has his own unexpected adventure.
Disclaimer: The characters of “The Lord of the Rings” were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. This story is written only for pleasure, not money, and I am borrowing the characters only as a tribute to his genius. No violation of copyright is intended; please do not sue.
The boy was running.
His breath came in hot gasps that he tried desperately to control, because he did not know how close his pursuers were, and he did not wish to alert them to his presence. If he were captured by Orcs, he would not die quickly.
That alone was reason enough to hurry, but it was not only his own life that was at stake. If he could just make it to Imladris in time…but since his horse had foundered and he was now on foot, that seemed increasingly doubtful.
And all because he had the ridiculous idea of being some kind of welcoming party….
~ooo0ooo~
“Where are you going?”
One of the twins paused in his lithe stride down the halls of Imladris long enough to reply to the question; the other scarcely broke stride. It was Elladan, young Estel realized—but only because of how his hair was parted on the opposite side of his brother’s. The sons of Elrond were identical in every physical respect, and the opposite parts added to the mirror effect. “We are going hunting, little brother.”
“May I go, too?” the ten-year-old mortal boy asked excitedly.
Elladan laughed at the idea. “No, Estel, we are hunting wild boar. Such a hunt is no place for a child. Perhaps the next time we hunt grouse or rabbit, you may go with us.”
“Please, Elladan!” Estel said, and then appealed to him with the argument that sometimes worked with their father. “How am I going to learn if I never get to try?”
But Elladan only shook his head, smiling, and Elrohir said; “Not this time, Estel. Little boys should stay at home. Elladan, let’s go.”
“I’m not a little boy!” their foster-brother called after them, but the twins only laughed and continued their departure.
Upset, Estel watched them from a window as they mounted their horses and set off. He was still upset, not least from the feeling of being disregarded that had been triggered by Elrohir’s unwittingly-hurtful words.
But he probably would have remained at home nevertheless, had he not overheard Erestor instructing the servants to ready bedrooms and hot baths, and to prepare a special meal to be served later that evening, because the river had brought word to Lord Elrond that his wife, Lady Celebrian, and her escort were returning at last from her trip to Lothlorien. They should arrive later that afternoon. Estel, overhearing this, was delighted, for never had he met the beautiful wife of his foster-father, mother to the twins, and he decided that as he was supposedly not old enough to hunt boar, he could at least serve as a welcoming party.
So, ten-year-old Estel, after discreetly learning from the servants what route the Lady and her entourage would be taking to reach Imladris, ran out to the stables, saddled his horse, and rode off in that direction. It had seemed like a very good idea at the time.
~ooo0ooo~
After riding for more than two hours, Estel was getting tired, his horse kept wanting to stop and crop grass, and he was wondering if this had been such a good idea after all. He still wanted to meet Lady Celebrian, and had hoped that by welcoming her in place of her twin sons, who had not known when they set out on their hunt that their mother was due to return so soon, his action might be construed as an act of courtesy that would please all the adults in his life. But now it crossed his ten-year-old mind that maybe the Lady would prefer to meet her husband first, her sons, and other long-standing residents of Imladris before she would wish to meet the mortal child her husband had assumed responsibility for as a foster-son.
He had just decided to turn around and start back when he caught sight of what could only be the Lady Celebrian and her entourage. They were off in the distance, and he did not know if they had seen him yet—Elvish vision was better than his, but he was looking for them, and they had no reason to expect him. But one of the women rode a white horse and her hair was the most beautiful Estel had ever seen: blonde tresses that shone either gold as the sun or silver-white as the moon, depending on how the sun’s rays caught it. She and the other Elves were laughing and chatting among each other, and had slowed their horses to a walk, presumably not pushing the animals too hard when they would all be home soon.
Estel was just wondering whether he should call out and wave to them, or ride his horse up to theirs in a more dignified approach, when suddenly the Elf-warrior nearest the Lady fell from his horse, hitting the ground with the horrible thud of dead weight. There were cries of horror and anger from the other Elves as they saw the arrow through his back, and they pulled out their weapons—
Not quickly enough. To Estel’s horror, within seconds the little group was surrounded by a band of Orcs, and there was the glitter and clash of weapons as the two sides fought each other. Celebrian screamed as she was dragged from her horse.
For one second of indecision, Estel was caught between wanting to ride to the rescue of the Lady and her people, and turning his horse and riding for his life. But he had no weapon, those who did were fast being overpowered, and it would be a far better idea, he realized, to ride for help. He turned his horse and rode off, but not before one large, hairy looking Orc glanced in his direction and let out a yell. Had he been seen? No time to be sure, or to do anything about it if he had been.
~ooo0ooo~
His horse’s hooves pounded the turf, jarring every bone in Estel’s young body. Foam was appearing on the animal’s lips, and both horse and rider had already been getting weary when first they saw the orcs, but he had no choice but to ride as hard and as fast as he could. There was no doubt now that the orcs had seen him, for just after he began his mad ride, he had heard the cries as some of them rode in pursuit. How many, he did not know, but he had no desire to find out the hard way—
The eyes rolled up in his horse’s head, and the animal collapsed. Estel rolled away just in time, more by luck than by skill, to keep from having one leg trapped beneath the dying beast. Staggering to his feet, he began to run. At not too great a distance, there was the edge of a forest. If he made it into the trees, he might have a chance.
He ran for his life. He ran until there was a stitch in his side, his chest burned, his mouth and throat were dry as dust. Still, he could hear pursuit, but the forest was tantalizingly close now—
Something landed on his back, slamming him to the ground. Clawed hands grabbed at him, and he twisted like a snake, but it did no good; the other’s grip was like iron. He was turned to face his attacker, who slammed him into the ground so hard that his head bounced, and for a moment he saw bursts of light behind his eyes. He was being held by an enormous hairy orc, with blackened skin, jagged teeth, and breath like spoiled meat. The orc glared down at him with furious red eyes, just as a second orc came running up alongside them. The second gave Estel a kick, and the first brought a knife forward and pressed it to the boy’s throat.
“Little filth! Led us quite a merry chase, didn’t you? Serve you right if I gutted you right here and now!”
“Do it!” the other orc suggested.
“Nah,” the first orc said, his liver-colored lips peeling back from his jagged teeth in what was supposed to pass as a smile. “That would be too quick, and we need slaves anyway. A nice long life for this one in the mines, where we can torment him any time we please, is a better idea!”
The second orc opened his mouth, but then a spear crashed into and impaled his body, and he was dead before he hit the ground. The orc atop Estel looked up wildly, but had no time even to blink before an arrow took him right between the eyes. His dead body fell forward, and Estel, crying out in revulsion, struggled out from under the hairy body, just as the twins rode up.
“Estel!” One of the brothers snatched the boy up and was embracing him fiercely. Estel could not tell which because he was crushed against the tall Elf’s chest, but he hugged his foster-brother back just as fiercely. The other twin, after making certain both orcs were dead, was taking back the Elf-weapons and cleaning them.
Now the twin who embraced him was holding him at arm’s length; Estel saw that it was Elladan. “Little brother, what are you doing here?” he demanded, just as Elrohir said, “How did you come to be so far from home?”
“I was going to meet your mother—she was on her way back to Imladris—”
In a matter of minutes, Estel had gasped out the whole story. Elladan wanted to ride immediately to their mother’s aid, but Elrohir, although he looked tormented by the decision, disagreed. “More than the two of us are needed, brother, and we need fresh horses and better weapons. We also must get Estel home safely.”
“I’ll go with you,” the ten-year-old offered, even though the orcs had frightened him badly. “Give me a weapon, and I’ll fight with you!”
Elrohir shook his head. “You have done enough for one day, Estel.” The child wondered how that was meant. Both of his foster-brothers loved him, that he knew, but Elrohir was always the sterner of the two; Elladan was more inclined to laugh at and indulge their foster-brother’s mistakes and foibles. So when the twins mounted their horses, and Estel was seated on the back of Elrohir’s horse, with Elrohir at Estel’s back in the saddle, the young boy twisted his head to look up at his foster-brother.
“Elrohir, I’m sorry…”
The Elf seemed genuinely surprised. “For what, Estel? You were not told specifically not to go, and had you not ridden out to meet our mother, we should never have known what happened.” Gently, he ruffled the boy’s hair, and then passed a water bottle to him. “You were very brave, little brother. Now drink. You must be very thirsty.”
~ooo0ooo~
They reached Imladris. Estel was questioned by Lord Elrond about all he had seen, while the twins rounded up fresh horses, weapons, and warriors, including Glorfindel, to ride to the rescue of Lady Celebrian. Estel’s information told them where to go, and they set out almost immediately. Estel’s part was over; he was fed, allowed to bathe, and sent to bed. It was another two days before the rescue party returned, but they returned triumphantly, at least more or less. Celebrian and a few other members of her party had survived, but she had received a poisoned wound, and apparently other things had been done to her as well; Estel was not allowed to see her after all, as she needed Lord Elrond to heal her, and then time to recover.
She would not recover completely until she reached Valinor, but in the days immediately following her rescue, no one realized that. It seemed as if her rescue was complete, and that all she needed was time and the love of her family in order to rest and to heal. Elrond of course spent much of his time with her, but he also spared some time a few days later to speak with Estel.
The boy was practicing with a sword against a straw dummy. Elrond called to him, and then held out his arms. Estel replaced the sword, and then ran to embrace his foster-father. For the past several days, since Celebrian’s return, he had of necessity seen little of his foster-father, and the twins—now seemingly older and far grimmer—hunted orcs almost ceaselessly.
Elrond gently ruffled the boy’s hair. “How are you feeling, my child? Have you quite recovered?”
“Yes, Ada. I feel well.”
“Good.” He nodded at the straw dummy. “Erestor tells me you have little interest in your books now. Is this how you have been spending your time?” It was a genuine question, not a reproof. “It is important to practice your weapons, Estel, but you must not neglect your other studies.”
“The other things just don’t seem very important now, Ada. I want to kill orcs.”
A moment of foresight flashed in the Elf Lord’s mind: the sight of this child grown to manhood, hard and grim after many years of unrelenting devotion to the responsibilities of chieftainship and life in the wild, the usually-smiling face of the child become grim as an adult. “You will, soon enough,” Elrond said softly. “You shall have to. But that time is not yet come.” He shook his head slightly, and smiled down at the boy. “I wish to thank you, my son, for your brave deeds in rescuing the Lady Celebrian.”
“I didn’t do much, Ada. It was Elrohir and Elladan who killed the orcs.”
“Nevertheless, I owe you a debt I fear I cannot repay,” Elrond said. The words hung between them in strange silence for a moment, and in another flash of foresight, Elrond felt as if someone whispered to him, You can, and you will. Someday, you will have to surrender to him that which you love just as much….
“Ada?” Estel said, looking up at his foster-father with concern. “Are you all right?”
Elrond shook the feeling off, and smiled down at his foster-child. “Of course, my son.” And for now, he hoped that he had spoken the truth. Celebrian had been captured and rescued; his family was safe.
Let it remain so.
Rating: K+, for some violence
Summary: After not being allowed to go hunting with the twins, young Estel has his own unexpected adventure.
Disclaimer: The characters of “The Lord of the Rings” were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. This story is written only for pleasure, not money, and I am borrowing the characters only as a tribute to his genius. No violation of copyright is intended; please do not sue.
The boy was running.
His breath came in hot gasps that he tried desperately to control, because he did not know how close his pursuers were, and he did not wish to alert them to his presence. If he were captured by Orcs, he would not die quickly.
That alone was reason enough to hurry, but it was not only his own life that was at stake. If he could just make it to Imladris in time…but since his horse had foundered and he was now on foot, that seemed increasingly doubtful.
And all because he had the ridiculous idea of being some kind of welcoming party….
~ooo0ooo~
“Where are you going?”
One of the twins paused in his lithe stride down the halls of Imladris long enough to reply to the question; the other scarcely broke stride. It was Elladan, young Estel realized—but only because of how his hair was parted on the opposite side of his brother’s. The sons of Elrond were identical in every physical respect, and the opposite parts added to the mirror effect. “We are going hunting, little brother.”
“May I go, too?” the ten-year-old mortal boy asked excitedly.
Elladan laughed at the idea. “No, Estel, we are hunting wild boar. Such a hunt is no place for a child. Perhaps the next time we hunt grouse or rabbit, you may go with us.”
“Please, Elladan!” Estel said, and then appealed to him with the argument that sometimes worked with their father. “How am I going to learn if I never get to try?”
But Elladan only shook his head, smiling, and Elrohir said; “Not this time, Estel. Little boys should stay at home. Elladan, let’s go.”
“I’m not a little boy!” their foster-brother called after them, but the twins only laughed and continued their departure.
Upset, Estel watched them from a window as they mounted their horses and set off. He was still upset, not least from the feeling of being disregarded that had been triggered by Elrohir’s unwittingly-hurtful words.
But he probably would have remained at home nevertheless, had he not overheard Erestor instructing the servants to ready bedrooms and hot baths, and to prepare a special meal to be served later that evening, because the river had brought word to Lord Elrond that his wife, Lady Celebrian, and her escort were returning at last from her trip to Lothlorien. They should arrive later that afternoon. Estel, overhearing this, was delighted, for never had he met the beautiful wife of his foster-father, mother to the twins, and he decided that as he was supposedly not old enough to hunt boar, he could at least serve as a welcoming party.
So, ten-year-old Estel, after discreetly learning from the servants what route the Lady and her entourage would be taking to reach Imladris, ran out to the stables, saddled his horse, and rode off in that direction. It had seemed like a very good idea at the time.
~ooo0ooo~
After riding for more than two hours, Estel was getting tired, his horse kept wanting to stop and crop grass, and he was wondering if this had been such a good idea after all. He still wanted to meet Lady Celebrian, and had hoped that by welcoming her in place of her twin sons, who had not known when they set out on their hunt that their mother was due to return so soon, his action might be construed as an act of courtesy that would please all the adults in his life. But now it crossed his ten-year-old mind that maybe the Lady would prefer to meet her husband first, her sons, and other long-standing residents of Imladris before she would wish to meet the mortal child her husband had assumed responsibility for as a foster-son.
He had just decided to turn around and start back when he caught sight of what could only be the Lady Celebrian and her entourage. They were off in the distance, and he did not know if they had seen him yet—Elvish vision was better than his, but he was looking for them, and they had no reason to expect him. But one of the women rode a white horse and her hair was the most beautiful Estel had ever seen: blonde tresses that shone either gold as the sun or silver-white as the moon, depending on how the sun’s rays caught it. She and the other Elves were laughing and chatting among each other, and had slowed their horses to a walk, presumably not pushing the animals too hard when they would all be home soon.
Estel was just wondering whether he should call out and wave to them, or ride his horse up to theirs in a more dignified approach, when suddenly the Elf-warrior nearest the Lady fell from his horse, hitting the ground with the horrible thud of dead weight. There were cries of horror and anger from the other Elves as they saw the arrow through his back, and they pulled out their weapons—
Not quickly enough. To Estel’s horror, within seconds the little group was surrounded by a band of Orcs, and there was the glitter and clash of weapons as the two sides fought each other. Celebrian screamed as she was dragged from her horse.
For one second of indecision, Estel was caught between wanting to ride to the rescue of the Lady and her people, and turning his horse and riding for his life. But he had no weapon, those who did were fast being overpowered, and it would be a far better idea, he realized, to ride for help. He turned his horse and rode off, but not before one large, hairy looking Orc glanced in his direction and let out a yell. Had he been seen? No time to be sure, or to do anything about it if he had been.
~ooo0ooo~
His horse’s hooves pounded the turf, jarring every bone in Estel’s young body. Foam was appearing on the animal’s lips, and both horse and rider had already been getting weary when first they saw the orcs, but he had no choice but to ride as hard and as fast as he could. There was no doubt now that the orcs had seen him, for just after he began his mad ride, he had heard the cries as some of them rode in pursuit. How many, he did not know, but he had no desire to find out the hard way—
The eyes rolled up in his horse’s head, and the animal collapsed. Estel rolled away just in time, more by luck than by skill, to keep from having one leg trapped beneath the dying beast. Staggering to his feet, he began to run. At not too great a distance, there was the edge of a forest. If he made it into the trees, he might have a chance.
He ran for his life. He ran until there was a stitch in his side, his chest burned, his mouth and throat were dry as dust. Still, he could hear pursuit, but the forest was tantalizingly close now—
Something landed on his back, slamming him to the ground. Clawed hands grabbed at him, and he twisted like a snake, but it did no good; the other’s grip was like iron. He was turned to face his attacker, who slammed him into the ground so hard that his head bounced, and for a moment he saw bursts of light behind his eyes. He was being held by an enormous hairy orc, with blackened skin, jagged teeth, and breath like spoiled meat. The orc glared down at him with furious red eyes, just as a second orc came running up alongside them. The second gave Estel a kick, and the first brought a knife forward and pressed it to the boy’s throat.
“Little filth! Led us quite a merry chase, didn’t you? Serve you right if I gutted you right here and now!”
“Do it!” the other orc suggested.
“Nah,” the first orc said, his liver-colored lips peeling back from his jagged teeth in what was supposed to pass as a smile. “That would be too quick, and we need slaves anyway. A nice long life for this one in the mines, where we can torment him any time we please, is a better idea!”
The second orc opened his mouth, but then a spear crashed into and impaled his body, and he was dead before he hit the ground. The orc atop Estel looked up wildly, but had no time even to blink before an arrow took him right between the eyes. His dead body fell forward, and Estel, crying out in revulsion, struggled out from under the hairy body, just as the twins rode up.
“Estel!” One of the brothers snatched the boy up and was embracing him fiercely. Estel could not tell which because he was crushed against the tall Elf’s chest, but he hugged his foster-brother back just as fiercely. The other twin, after making certain both orcs were dead, was taking back the Elf-weapons and cleaning them.
Now the twin who embraced him was holding him at arm’s length; Estel saw that it was Elladan. “Little brother, what are you doing here?” he demanded, just as Elrohir said, “How did you come to be so far from home?”
“I was going to meet your mother—she was on her way back to Imladris—”
In a matter of minutes, Estel had gasped out the whole story. Elladan wanted to ride immediately to their mother’s aid, but Elrohir, although he looked tormented by the decision, disagreed. “More than the two of us are needed, brother, and we need fresh horses and better weapons. We also must get Estel home safely.”
“I’ll go with you,” the ten-year-old offered, even though the orcs had frightened him badly. “Give me a weapon, and I’ll fight with you!”
Elrohir shook his head. “You have done enough for one day, Estel.” The child wondered how that was meant. Both of his foster-brothers loved him, that he knew, but Elrohir was always the sterner of the two; Elladan was more inclined to laugh at and indulge their foster-brother’s mistakes and foibles. So when the twins mounted their horses, and Estel was seated on the back of Elrohir’s horse, with Elrohir at Estel’s back in the saddle, the young boy twisted his head to look up at his foster-brother.
“Elrohir, I’m sorry…”
The Elf seemed genuinely surprised. “For what, Estel? You were not told specifically not to go, and had you not ridden out to meet our mother, we should never have known what happened.” Gently, he ruffled the boy’s hair, and then passed a water bottle to him. “You were very brave, little brother. Now drink. You must be very thirsty.”
~ooo0ooo~
They reached Imladris. Estel was questioned by Lord Elrond about all he had seen, while the twins rounded up fresh horses, weapons, and warriors, including Glorfindel, to ride to the rescue of Lady Celebrian. Estel’s information told them where to go, and they set out almost immediately. Estel’s part was over; he was fed, allowed to bathe, and sent to bed. It was another two days before the rescue party returned, but they returned triumphantly, at least more or less. Celebrian and a few other members of her party had survived, but she had received a poisoned wound, and apparently other things had been done to her as well; Estel was not allowed to see her after all, as she needed Lord Elrond to heal her, and then time to recover.
She would not recover completely until she reached Valinor, but in the days immediately following her rescue, no one realized that. It seemed as if her rescue was complete, and that all she needed was time and the love of her family in order to rest and to heal. Elrond of course spent much of his time with her, but he also spared some time a few days later to speak with Estel.
The boy was practicing with a sword against a straw dummy. Elrond called to him, and then held out his arms. Estel replaced the sword, and then ran to embrace his foster-father. For the past several days, since Celebrian’s return, he had of necessity seen little of his foster-father, and the twins—now seemingly older and far grimmer—hunted orcs almost ceaselessly.
Elrond gently ruffled the boy’s hair. “How are you feeling, my child? Have you quite recovered?”
“Yes, Ada. I feel well.”
“Good.” He nodded at the straw dummy. “Erestor tells me you have little interest in your books now. Is this how you have been spending your time?” It was a genuine question, not a reproof. “It is important to practice your weapons, Estel, but you must not neglect your other studies.”
“The other things just don’t seem very important now, Ada. I want to kill orcs.”
A moment of foresight flashed in the Elf Lord’s mind: the sight of this child grown to manhood, hard and grim after many years of unrelenting devotion to the responsibilities of chieftainship and life in the wild, the usually-smiling face of the child become grim as an adult. “You will, soon enough,” Elrond said softly. “You shall have to. But that time is not yet come.” He shook his head slightly, and smiled down at the boy. “I wish to thank you, my son, for your brave deeds in rescuing the Lady Celebrian.”
“I didn’t do much, Ada. It was Elrohir and Elladan who killed the orcs.”
“Nevertheless, I owe you a debt I fear I cannot repay,” Elrond said. The words hung between them in strange silence for a moment, and in another flash of foresight, Elrond felt as if someone whispered to him, You can, and you will. Someday, you will have to surrender to him that which you love just as much….
“Ada?” Estel said, looking up at his foster-father with concern. “Are you all right?”
Elrond shook the feeling off, and smiled down at his foster-child. “Of course, my son.” And for now, he hoped that he had spoken the truth. Celebrian had been captured and rescued; his family was safe.
Let it remain so.