Title: Before The Storm
Author: ErynLasgalen26
E-Mail: erynlasgalen26@yahoo.com
Rating: G
Spoilers: basically for the book and the movie "Fellowship of the Ring", a few hints concerning Cassia's "Mellon Chronicles"
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Middle-earth, though I do thank JRR Tolkien for creating this wonderful world. The characters and places are used for non-profit purposes only, so please don't sue me.
Summary: Vignette. I love the Mellon Chronicles by the wonderful Cassia, but after reading them and watching the movies (over and over and over again) I couldn't help but feel the need for this little tie-in. It's basically an Aragorn and Legolas POV of the Council of Elrond.
Author's comments: I would like to thank Cassia and her mute Mush Shadow Sio for letting me use the characters they created. This is my first attempt at writing LotR-Fanfiction, so in case there are any obvious inconsistencies, please let me know and try not to flame me. ;) Reviews are very welcome, but please be nice.. (
*text* = italics; //text// = thoughts
BEFORE THE STORM
*** Chapter 1 ***
It was an early autumn afternoon in the fair valley of Imladris, which was called Rivendell in the common tongue, and the air still held the warmth of summer, albeit the wind would already bring samples of winter's chill in the nights. A golden light filled the deep gorge in which the elven city was built and the song of birds and humming of insects seemed as nature's own music on this fine day.
Many were the Elven folk that walked the forest paths at the foot of the Misty Mountains or wandered along the gardens of Lord Elrond's home, content with the sense of peace that seemed to emanate from the very earth itself.
Only one man seemed oddly out of place among those fair beings, for he was not dressed in the light velvets and silks of the Elves, but instead he wore the dark brown and green dress of the Rangers of the Northern Realms. His black hair sirred gently around his angular face, a face that belied the age that was only visible in the silver eyes that at the moment stared off into the distance.
Worries burdend this man, worries he had never dared to dream of in his younger years. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur and therefore the last in the long and seemingly extinct line of Gondorian Kings. But he was also Estel, a human raised by the Elven Lord Elrond after his human parents had died. And he was Strider, Chieftain of the Dúnedain Rangers of the North. His true name had been kept a secret even from himself in his childhood, for Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor was ever seeking for the last of the Númenórean Kings. In his years of wandering the face of Middle-earth, he had aquired many more names, but right here and now he wished only to be called by what he deemed to be his true name: Estel. Hope. That name he had been given by Lord Elrond, shortly after he had arrived in Imladris as a toddler, for Elrond had always known that someday Aragorn would be the only hope for the peoples of Middle-earth.
Elrond.his father. A slight smile softened the lines of Estel's drawn face as he thought of the tall, dark haired Elf that had first taken him into his home and then into his heart, making him his son and giving him all the love and care a child could possibly wish for. Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, had instantly fallen in love with their human brother and had always been fierce protectors of the young human who would, Ilúvitar willing, one day be a mighty King. Protectors..Estel's smile widened, yes, they had ever protected him, but they had also more often than not dared him to do the most idiotic things conceivable. But *that* had of course worked both ways.
Barely audible footsteps behind him alerted him that he was no longer alone on the balcony of his father's house that overlooked the rift and the Bruinen river that flowed through it.
Estel did not need to see who had been approaching him, for seconds later Lord Elrond appeared next to his youngest son and leaned against the balustrade, his hands folded before him, much in the same manner as Estel himself stood. The Elf did not speak immediately, instead he just looked at the man next to him, noting with an aching heart the many changes that had turned the boy he had once been into the man he was now.
Finally it was Estel who turned towards the Elf and smiled at him, noticing the sadness hidden deep inside the ages-old blue eyes of the Elven Lord. "Did you wish to speak to me, ada?" Silver eyes locked onto dark blue ones.
"Nay Estel, not speak. I just wanted to see how you were faring." Elrond's long mahogany hair rippled in the sunlight as he turned to face his son more fully. "But I sense that perhaps you wish to speak to me?"
Of course the Elf Lord's perception had been correct, there were many things on Estel's mind and about some he did indeed need to talk to his father.
"I was asking myself if it was wise to call a council." Estel turned back to the view before him, his gaze fastening on the rippling silver band that was the Bruinen as it wound it's way through the valley. "We know now that Saruman has betrayed us. What if there are others too, that are in allegiance with the enemy?"
For a few heartbeats Elrond simply looked at his son and contemplated the words of the Dúnadan.
He knew what worried his son, he knew the weight of the burden that had been placed on Estel on the day of his birth, that was why he had been expecting Estel to question his decision.
"There are likely many others that bow to Sauron, but none of the beings I have summoned belong to them." Elrond laid a hand on Estel's shoulder, trying to give as much comfort to the Human as he could. "Fear not, Estel, in Imladris you shall ever be safe."
"Of course. That I never doubted." The Dúnadan's hand covered that of the Elf. "It is just that." He shook his head in disgust, not wanting to continue his thought.
It was not necessary to continue though, for Elrond reassuringly squeezed his son's shoulder and turned him towards the house. "I know, Estel. That is why I have a surprise for you."
With that the Elf Lord and the Dúnedain Ranger disappeared into the darker interior of the house, father and son, side by side, ready to face whatever evil lay before them.
*****
The path down the High Pass on the western side of the Misty Mountains was steep and shaded by dense forests on both sides, but it was a path he had taken often and was well accustomed to, he had even traveled it once in winter. That was of course an experience he did not wish to make again. Especially not alone and fearing for the life of his best friend, as he had been the last time, now so many decades ago.
Golden sunlight dappled the path in front of him, glimpses of the brilliantly blue, cloudless sky visible between the dense foliage that was slowly turning to the warm colors of autumn.
"My Lord, shall we not rest for a while? We have been travelling since dawn." Raniean, Captain of the Royal Guard of Mirkwood, rode up to the Prince's right side, a slight frown marring the fair Elf's face as he gazed at his friend and liege.
Legolas, son of King Thranduil and therefore Prince of the Elven Realm of Mirkwood, rode before his friends Raniean and Trelan, who both happened to be his Royal Escort as well, but for this he cared little. It had ever been his preference to travel alone, but on this occasion it was by decree of his father, his King, that he take an escort to Imaldris. Lord Elrond had summoned representatives of all the free peoples of Middle- earth to Rivendell to partake in a council, but to what purpose the parchment, that a messenger had delivered to his father's halls in Northern Mirkwood a week ago, had not told.
Realizing that Raniean had asked him a question, Legolas redirected his gaze at the warrior at his side, the man who had been a friend to him for almost three millennia, since their early childhood days.
"Nay, we will reach Imaldris shortly, I do not wish to stop again." A pack of wolves had delayed them a little in the High Pass and Legolas was eager to reach his desitnation as swiftly as possible.
Though he did not posess the gift of foresight, as Lord Elrond and even Estel did, Legolas knew that whatever awaited him in Rivendell was of vital importance. Never before had Lord Elrond *summoned* anybody to him, not in such an official and somber way.
Raniean nodded but Trelan, who rode behind the Prince, let out a snort of laughter.
"Truly, *your Highness*, you have an odd perception of the word *shortly*." The smaller Elf pulled his horse up to Legolas' left side as the path widened and cast a glance at the Prince.
He too had noted how quiet Legolas had been during the entire journey across the mountains, no doubt worried by whatever news had been brought from Rivendell.
The Elf Prince turned just enough to look at his friend, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Do you wish to complain, Trelan? Pray tell, is this journey too strenuous for you?"
Mirth twinkled in the crystal blue depths of the Prince's eyes as he noticed the flush creeping into his friends cheeks. Ever had they taunted each other, Raniean and Trelan often taking advantage of the fact that Legolas did not care for being called by any of his Royal Titles or having strangers know that he was in fact Royalty.
Trelan shook his head vehemently. "Nay, Legolas, I simply implied that you had an odd sense of time."
Both Legolas and Raniean laughed at that and were soon joined by Trelan, the mood lightened at least for the moment.
"Race you to Imladris!" Legolas kicked his horse Avornwen into a fast gallop and raced down the path, Raniean and Trelan hot on his heels, the long golden hair of the three Silvan Elves shining like rays of sunlight in their wakes.
*****
Estel stepped into the courtyard beside his father just as three horses rounded the bend and their riders slid off their saddles with a kind of grace unique to the Elves.
"Estel!" Legolas was the first to see the Ranger standing beside the Lord of Imladris as though they had been waiting for him, and judging by the Elf Lord's smile they likely had.
The Ranger's grave face lit up as he saw who the surprise was, that his father had talked about.
"Legolas!" Running down the steps towards the center of the courtyard, Estel and the Elf Prince met halfway, embracing like long lost brothers.
It had been nigh on five years that their paths had last crossed, Legolas having to take on more duties as heir apparent of Mirkwood and Estel spending a majority of his time with the Dúnedain Rangers, who's Chieftain he was.
"This is indeed a surprise, father!" Estel laughed, as he turned towards the Elf Lord who had descended the steps at a more appropriate pace and was now smiling at his son and the Prince who had become as a son to him in the many years that he had befriended Estel and thus frequented Rivendell almost as often as Estel had been to Mirkwood.
"Mae govannen, Legloas Thranduilion." Elrond greeted formally as Legolas bowed, one hand sweeping outwards from his heart as was tradition among the Elven folk.
"Lord Elrond. Mirkwood has received your summons. The King has sent me as his representative, for he was delayed by business in our own realm that could not wait. He sends also his regrets."
The Prince knew that this kind of formality was not necessary with Lord Elrond, but the summons had been official, so he did not want his message to sound any less vital.
"It is well, Legolas." Elrond aknowledged Raniean and Trelan with a nod and a smile as he led them all into the house. "I think perhaps you will be of better use to us anyway." With those cryptic words the Elf Lord excused himself and left the younger Elves and his son standing in the hall.
"You look well, mellon-nîn." Legolas noted as he turned back to the Ranger standing beside him. "Unharmed, too." He added, smiling.
Estel laughed. It was the first real laugh in a long time. "Well, seeing as you weren't around it only seems natural that I remain unharmed." He teased, the old joke elicting a peal of musical laughter from the Prince.
Raniean and Trelan joined the two friends, finally getting a proper chance to greet the Ranger who had become a friend to them too, as they climbed the broad staircase to the first floor, where the guests were shown to their rooms.
Not wanting to disturb the reunion of the two friends, Raniean and Trelan decided on resting a little, knowing that no harm would befall their Prince.
"Do you know what kind of business it is, that your father wishes to discuss at the council?" Legolas knew that Estel would tell him what he could and was therefore surprised as the Ranger turned away from his friend and walked to the window of the guest room that had long since been renamed "Legolas' Room".
"I do know why he has called you here, but I cannot yet tell you why." Estel admitted, weariness hardening his features once again and stealing into his heart. He was tired of the world of Men. He did not wish for his heritage or the burdens that came with it. All he wanted was peace. For himself. For his family and friends. For Arwen.
Legolas noticed the change in his friend and sadness came over him as he looked at the Ranger now. The black hair that could never quite be tamed was beginning to show first signs of silver weaving through it, the youthful face he had first seen was long gone, the edges hardened by worries and war and the light in the silver eyes undimmed and yet changed. Somewhat subdued.
To an Elf, who was immortal, change came slowly, unnoticeably, therefore it was all the more harder to see a beloved person change so rapidly. Estel was blessed with an extraordinary long life, the blood of Númenór flowing strongly through his veins, yet Legolas knew that someday his friend would grow old and die. His heart clenched at the thought even as he pushed it away. Odd that these thoughts should come to him now.
He walked over to the Ranger who was once again gazing off into the distance as though seeking for something.
"Whatever it is, Estel, you know you are not alone in this." Legolas laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, their way of giving the other strength.
Estel nodded. He knew Legolas meant what he said, but the Prince did not yet know what evil they were about to face.
The two friends stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, the distant rushing of the Bruinen as it fell down the cliff face on the far side of the valley, the song of the birds and the soft rise and fall of voices in the gardens below carrying to them on the warm evening breeze.
"Tell me Estel," Legolas finally asked, when he noticed that Estel did not intend to break the silence on his own, "Where are your brothers?"
The Ranger shifted only his gaze to the golden-haired Elf beside him. "Father sent them on an errand, they are expected back soon."
He walked over to the huge armchair he had spent so many nights in, watching over the Prince after he had dragged him home half dead, or after they had been brought home half dead by Elladan and Elrohir, or of course, after *he* had been dragged home by the Prince, but then the Prince would always sit watch next to his bed in the adjoining room. He almost smiled at the memories as he dropped into the soft cushions.
"Do you remember when we first met, Legolas?" The Ranger looked up, meeting the familiar blue gaze of his best friend.
The Elf nodded and sat down on the bed opposite his human friend. "Of course, mellon-nîn, how could I ever forget?"
Weary silver eyes that were the only way to tell the Dúnadan's true age sought the Elf. "I yearn for those days. Life was much easier then. Cares seemed less and dangers easier to conquer. Why does everything always have to change?"
Legolas felt sympathy for the Ranger, yet he could barely stiffle a smile at his friend's question. "Ah, but my friend, that is the way of the world. You know, by Elven standards you are even now still a child. Do not let the weight of the world settle upon your shoulders, gwador-nîn. Not without a good fight."
Estel looked at his friend, his brother, a smile finally easing the lines out of his face. "I thought you disliked fighting, prissy Elf."
The Ranger threw the old taunt at his friend with much of the usual carelessness back in his voice and the spark that had been missing returning to his eyes.
"Filthy Human!" Legolas laughed out loud, throwing a pillow at Estel as he got up. "You should take a bath before Celboril calls us to dinner, I doubt your father would tolerate you looking thus at his table."
Estel stood too, pulling Legolas into a tight embrace. "It is good to have you here, my friend."
Luckily Legolas had long since gotten used to the very affectionate way that was custom in this house, something he did miss a little in his own home.
Laying his forhead against the Ranger's and meeting the man's gaze, Legolas smiled. "It has been too long yet again, but I am here now, and trust me Estel, you will not have to brave what lies ahead of you alone. You are my brother, your fights are mine." The Prince's smile widened. "You ought to have learned that a *long* time ago, Human."
Estel nodded. "Hannon le." Thank you. More words were not needed.
"Now go and wash!" Legolas shoved the Ranger to the door. "I am hungry and I truly don't intend to partake at dinner in the presence of an unwashed Ranger."
Laughing Estel exited the room, his mood lifted considerably. It was good having Legolas around again. The Elf had the uncanny gift of making the Dúnadan feel young again, something he did in fact miss very much. *****
Night had fallen over the lands, bringing with it the chill of the mountain air and the soft chirping of crickets in the gardens. Glow-globes had been lighted in the passages of the Last Homely House and fires crackled merrily in the Great Hall of Fire, where many of the Elves who resided in Imladris and also many of the guests who currently frequented Lord Elrond's home were gathered before dinner.
Estel was just fastening the last button of his dark green velvet over- tunic when the sound of hoof-beats reached his ears. Looking out of the window his suspicions were confirmed, Elladan and Elrohir had finally returned and by the way they were mounting the steps to their home, he could tell that the news they would bring did not bode well.
The Ranger hurriedly left his room and sprinted down the stairs just to arrive in the entrance hall as the twins stepped inside.
Two nearly identical tall and dark haired elves stopped short when they saw their human brother racing towards them.
"Estel!" Elrohir cried out joyously, stepping forward to embrace the Dúnadan.
Elladan followed a few paces behind, noting with a slight frown the look of worry that the younger man wore.
"Thank Ilúvitar! You have returned safely." Estel pulled back from his brother's embrace, his gaze settling on Elladan. "What news do you bring?"
The elder twin cuffed his brother lightly upside the head, but he could not entirely suppress the hint of distress visible in his own eyes. "What kind of manners are those, brother? We have just returned from a long and arduous journey and you have not the decency to let us catch our breath." He smiled to take the sting out of his words, for he knew exactly how much of a burden this entire situation was for the human.
"I'm sorry." Estel bowed slightly. "I had forgotten that you had become soft with age." An impish smile crossed his face and reminded the twins that this grown and world-weary man was still very much the young and reckless Ranger that had gotten himself and them too in much trouble during his younger years.
"Why you.!" Elladan lunged for the Dúnadan, grabbing a fistful of the rich green velvet of the man's tunic before he managed to twist free of the Elf's grasp and hold up his hands.
"Sîdh!" Peace. Estel took another cautious step back, putting more space between himself and the Elf, yet unable to stop laughing at his brother's incredulous look.
"Enough!" A deep voice cut through the bickering, as Lord Elrond stepped out of the dining hall and into a very familiar scene of his three sons at the beginning of what could very well end as a catastrophe for the furniture and priceless artefacts in the house.
Estel froze, snickered and turned to look at his brothers. "Oops."
Elladan rolled his eyes before turning to his father, his look promising Estel retribution. "Ada." The twins embraced the elder Elf. "We bring news of the South."
Elrond nodded, motioning for all three of his sons to follow him. Noting Estel's hesitation the Elven Lord smiled fondly at his youngest. "Legolas has already joined our guests, he will be in good company until you are able to join him."
The Dúnadan nodded and followed the Elves to Elrond's study, where Elladan and Elrohir informed them of all they had learned during their long journey south through Eregion and Dunland.
"Of course there are rumours everywhere, flying on the wind and spreading as they ever have. Half of them are but tales of drunkards, but some few indeed tell the truth and 'tis very unsettling," Elladan concluded, his tall, slightly glowing form a stark contrast to the inky black night outside the large window he was standing in front of.
Elrond nodded gravely at his son's account, he had been expecting no less after all he had gathered so far. And yet it unsettled him, for he knew that Estel would have to bear the brunt of the evil they were to face. He glanced at the human who had been sitting in a chair by the fire, listening intently to his brothers' words, yet not speaking once.
"Perhaps I was wrong," Estel suddenly finally spoke up. "I am beginning to believe that you were indeed right from the start, to call this council and let representatives of all the races decide what is to be done." He looked at his father's ageless face and smiled, albeit somewhat gravely.
Elrond nodded. "I fear that your time of hiding amongst the Elves is over, my son. It is time for Aragorn, son of Arathorn, to step into the light and reveal himself, perhaps not to the enemy but at least to our allies. It is *you* they are most likely to follow."
He heard Elladan and Elrohir gasp in surprise, for it was a closely guarded Elven secret that the Heir of Númenór still lived.
Estel nodded, he had been expecting this for some time now. He did not wish for his heritage, for he feared that not only the strength of his forefathers flowed in his veins, but also their weakness. It was because of this weakness that the weapon of the enemy had not been destroyed three thousand years ago, when Isildur slew the Dark Lord Sauron and cut the One Ring from his hand. It had been on that very day that Isildur had decided against the destruction of the Ring and had kept it as an heirloom for his house. But the Ring was treacherous and had betrayed Isildur to his death, slipping from his finger and disappearing in the waters of the Gladden River which then flowed into the mighty Anduin, and therefore disappearing forever. Or so it had seemed.
Somehow Estel felt that it was upon him to right the wrongs caused by his ancestor. His gaze drifted to the ring he wore on his left forefinger, the green jewel glittering mysteriously in the firelight. The Ring of Barahir. This too was an heirloom of the House of Isildur, a token given to Barahir by Finrod Felagund after the mortal had saved the Elven Lord's life. This ring he treasured, it contained no evil magic, rather he thought it to bring him luck, for he had ever worn it since his father had passed it to him some sixty years ago.
He rose from where he sat, his head held high, his posture revealing that he was indeed every inch the King his family believed him to be. "Then it shall be done. Let the people know that Isildur's heir has stepped forth to help repel the shadow that has fallen upon the free lands of Middle-earth!" The Human's silver eyes sparkled with an inner fire as he stepped towards his Elven family. "It is time." His voice was low and filled with rage, rage against the dark foes of Mordor.
Elladan and Elrohir had watched Estel change a lot from the babe they had brought to Rivendell over eighty years ago, but the man they saw standing before them now filled them with a sense of pride.
Although the first of March of the coming year would mark Estel's eighty- seventh birthday, he still looked to be no more than forty years old. His dark, wavy hair looked slightly windswept as it ever had, his dark silver eyes were aglow with the same flame they had seen kindled in them many times before and every last trace of world-weariness that the Ranger had shown many times in the last few years seemed to have disappeared.
"Yes!" Elladan clasped his brother's right shoulder, nodding in agreement, his action mirrored by Elrohir.
Elrond watched with pride in his heart as his quiet and reserved youngest son finally accepted his heritage. Ilúvitar willing, Estel would one day be a fine and just King, but that was still for the mist-shrouded future to tell.
The Elf Lord stepped past his two eldest sons and embraced the Human, not finding words to express the joy and also the fear for the man's safety that clenched at his heart.
"I am very proud of you, my son. But do not be to rash with your actions just yet. Always wait for the opportune moment. That is of vital importance." He smiled at the Ranger. Yes, he had chosen correctly when naming the child Hope. This one truly was the only hope Middle-earth now had left.
Author: ErynLasgalen26
E-Mail: erynlasgalen26@yahoo.com
Rating: G
Spoilers: basically for the book and the movie "Fellowship of the Ring", a few hints concerning Cassia's "Mellon Chronicles"
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Middle-earth, though I do thank JRR Tolkien for creating this wonderful world. The characters and places are used for non-profit purposes only, so please don't sue me.
Summary: Vignette. I love the Mellon Chronicles by the wonderful Cassia, but after reading them and watching the movies (over and over and over again) I couldn't help but feel the need for this little tie-in. It's basically an Aragorn and Legolas POV of the Council of Elrond.
Author's comments: I would like to thank Cassia and her mute Mush Shadow Sio for letting me use the characters they created. This is my first attempt at writing LotR-Fanfiction, so in case there are any obvious inconsistencies, please let me know and try not to flame me. ;) Reviews are very welcome, but please be nice.. (
*text* = italics; //text// = thoughts
BEFORE THE STORM
*** Chapter 1 ***
It was an early autumn afternoon in the fair valley of Imladris, which was called Rivendell in the common tongue, and the air still held the warmth of summer, albeit the wind would already bring samples of winter's chill in the nights. A golden light filled the deep gorge in which the elven city was built and the song of birds and humming of insects seemed as nature's own music on this fine day.
Many were the Elven folk that walked the forest paths at the foot of the Misty Mountains or wandered along the gardens of Lord Elrond's home, content with the sense of peace that seemed to emanate from the very earth itself.
Only one man seemed oddly out of place among those fair beings, for he was not dressed in the light velvets and silks of the Elves, but instead he wore the dark brown and green dress of the Rangers of the Northern Realms. His black hair sirred gently around his angular face, a face that belied the age that was only visible in the silver eyes that at the moment stared off into the distance.
Worries burdend this man, worries he had never dared to dream of in his younger years. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur and therefore the last in the long and seemingly extinct line of Gondorian Kings. But he was also Estel, a human raised by the Elven Lord Elrond after his human parents had died. And he was Strider, Chieftain of the Dúnedain Rangers of the North. His true name had been kept a secret even from himself in his childhood, for Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor was ever seeking for the last of the Númenórean Kings. In his years of wandering the face of Middle-earth, he had aquired many more names, but right here and now he wished only to be called by what he deemed to be his true name: Estel. Hope. That name he had been given by Lord Elrond, shortly after he had arrived in Imladris as a toddler, for Elrond had always known that someday Aragorn would be the only hope for the peoples of Middle-earth.
Elrond.his father. A slight smile softened the lines of Estel's drawn face as he thought of the tall, dark haired Elf that had first taken him into his home and then into his heart, making him his son and giving him all the love and care a child could possibly wish for. Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, had instantly fallen in love with their human brother and had always been fierce protectors of the young human who would, Ilúvitar willing, one day be a mighty King. Protectors..Estel's smile widened, yes, they had ever protected him, but they had also more often than not dared him to do the most idiotic things conceivable. But *that* had of course worked both ways.
Barely audible footsteps behind him alerted him that he was no longer alone on the balcony of his father's house that overlooked the rift and the Bruinen river that flowed through it.
Estel did not need to see who had been approaching him, for seconds later Lord Elrond appeared next to his youngest son and leaned against the balustrade, his hands folded before him, much in the same manner as Estel himself stood. The Elf did not speak immediately, instead he just looked at the man next to him, noting with an aching heart the many changes that had turned the boy he had once been into the man he was now.
Finally it was Estel who turned towards the Elf and smiled at him, noticing the sadness hidden deep inside the ages-old blue eyes of the Elven Lord. "Did you wish to speak to me, ada?" Silver eyes locked onto dark blue ones.
"Nay Estel, not speak. I just wanted to see how you were faring." Elrond's long mahogany hair rippled in the sunlight as he turned to face his son more fully. "But I sense that perhaps you wish to speak to me?"
Of course the Elf Lord's perception had been correct, there were many things on Estel's mind and about some he did indeed need to talk to his father.
"I was asking myself if it was wise to call a council." Estel turned back to the view before him, his gaze fastening on the rippling silver band that was the Bruinen as it wound it's way through the valley. "We know now that Saruman has betrayed us. What if there are others too, that are in allegiance with the enemy?"
For a few heartbeats Elrond simply looked at his son and contemplated the words of the Dúnadan.
He knew what worried his son, he knew the weight of the burden that had been placed on Estel on the day of his birth, that was why he had been expecting Estel to question his decision.
"There are likely many others that bow to Sauron, but none of the beings I have summoned belong to them." Elrond laid a hand on Estel's shoulder, trying to give as much comfort to the Human as he could. "Fear not, Estel, in Imladris you shall ever be safe."
"Of course. That I never doubted." The Dúnadan's hand covered that of the Elf. "It is just that." He shook his head in disgust, not wanting to continue his thought.
It was not necessary to continue though, for Elrond reassuringly squeezed his son's shoulder and turned him towards the house. "I know, Estel. That is why I have a surprise for you."
With that the Elf Lord and the Dúnedain Ranger disappeared into the darker interior of the house, father and son, side by side, ready to face whatever evil lay before them.
*****
The path down the High Pass on the western side of the Misty Mountains was steep and shaded by dense forests on both sides, but it was a path he had taken often and was well accustomed to, he had even traveled it once in winter. That was of course an experience he did not wish to make again. Especially not alone and fearing for the life of his best friend, as he had been the last time, now so many decades ago.
Golden sunlight dappled the path in front of him, glimpses of the brilliantly blue, cloudless sky visible between the dense foliage that was slowly turning to the warm colors of autumn.
"My Lord, shall we not rest for a while? We have been travelling since dawn." Raniean, Captain of the Royal Guard of Mirkwood, rode up to the Prince's right side, a slight frown marring the fair Elf's face as he gazed at his friend and liege.
Legolas, son of King Thranduil and therefore Prince of the Elven Realm of Mirkwood, rode before his friends Raniean and Trelan, who both happened to be his Royal Escort as well, but for this he cared little. It had ever been his preference to travel alone, but on this occasion it was by decree of his father, his King, that he take an escort to Imaldris. Lord Elrond had summoned representatives of all the free peoples of Middle- earth to Rivendell to partake in a council, but to what purpose the parchment, that a messenger had delivered to his father's halls in Northern Mirkwood a week ago, had not told.
Realizing that Raniean had asked him a question, Legolas redirected his gaze at the warrior at his side, the man who had been a friend to him for almost three millennia, since their early childhood days.
"Nay, we will reach Imaldris shortly, I do not wish to stop again." A pack of wolves had delayed them a little in the High Pass and Legolas was eager to reach his desitnation as swiftly as possible.
Though he did not posess the gift of foresight, as Lord Elrond and even Estel did, Legolas knew that whatever awaited him in Rivendell was of vital importance. Never before had Lord Elrond *summoned* anybody to him, not in such an official and somber way.
Raniean nodded but Trelan, who rode behind the Prince, let out a snort of laughter.
"Truly, *your Highness*, you have an odd perception of the word *shortly*." The smaller Elf pulled his horse up to Legolas' left side as the path widened and cast a glance at the Prince.
He too had noted how quiet Legolas had been during the entire journey across the mountains, no doubt worried by whatever news had been brought from Rivendell.
The Elf Prince turned just enough to look at his friend, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Do you wish to complain, Trelan? Pray tell, is this journey too strenuous for you?"
Mirth twinkled in the crystal blue depths of the Prince's eyes as he noticed the flush creeping into his friends cheeks. Ever had they taunted each other, Raniean and Trelan often taking advantage of the fact that Legolas did not care for being called by any of his Royal Titles or having strangers know that he was in fact Royalty.
Trelan shook his head vehemently. "Nay, Legolas, I simply implied that you had an odd sense of time."
Both Legolas and Raniean laughed at that and were soon joined by Trelan, the mood lightened at least for the moment.
"Race you to Imladris!" Legolas kicked his horse Avornwen into a fast gallop and raced down the path, Raniean and Trelan hot on his heels, the long golden hair of the three Silvan Elves shining like rays of sunlight in their wakes.
*****
Estel stepped into the courtyard beside his father just as three horses rounded the bend and their riders slid off their saddles with a kind of grace unique to the Elves.
"Estel!" Legolas was the first to see the Ranger standing beside the Lord of Imladris as though they had been waiting for him, and judging by the Elf Lord's smile they likely had.
The Ranger's grave face lit up as he saw who the surprise was, that his father had talked about.
"Legolas!" Running down the steps towards the center of the courtyard, Estel and the Elf Prince met halfway, embracing like long lost brothers.
It had been nigh on five years that their paths had last crossed, Legolas having to take on more duties as heir apparent of Mirkwood and Estel spending a majority of his time with the Dúnedain Rangers, who's Chieftain he was.
"This is indeed a surprise, father!" Estel laughed, as he turned towards the Elf Lord who had descended the steps at a more appropriate pace and was now smiling at his son and the Prince who had become as a son to him in the many years that he had befriended Estel and thus frequented Rivendell almost as often as Estel had been to Mirkwood.
"Mae govannen, Legloas Thranduilion." Elrond greeted formally as Legolas bowed, one hand sweeping outwards from his heart as was tradition among the Elven folk.
"Lord Elrond. Mirkwood has received your summons. The King has sent me as his representative, for he was delayed by business in our own realm that could not wait. He sends also his regrets."
The Prince knew that this kind of formality was not necessary with Lord Elrond, but the summons had been official, so he did not want his message to sound any less vital.
"It is well, Legolas." Elrond aknowledged Raniean and Trelan with a nod and a smile as he led them all into the house. "I think perhaps you will be of better use to us anyway." With those cryptic words the Elf Lord excused himself and left the younger Elves and his son standing in the hall.
"You look well, mellon-nîn." Legolas noted as he turned back to the Ranger standing beside him. "Unharmed, too." He added, smiling.
Estel laughed. It was the first real laugh in a long time. "Well, seeing as you weren't around it only seems natural that I remain unharmed." He teased, the old joke elicting a peal of musical laughter from the Prince.
Raniean and Trelan joined the two friends, finally getting a proper chance to greet the Ranger who had become a friend to them too, as they climbed the broad staircase to the first floor, where the guests were shown to their rooms.
Not wanting to disturb the reunion of the two friends, Raniean and Trelan decided on resting a little, knowing that no harm would befall their Prince.
"Do you know what kind of business it is, that your father wishes to discuss at the council?" Legolas knew that Estel would tell him what he could and was therefore surprised as the Ranger turned away from his friend and walked to the window of the guest room that had long since been renamed "Legolas' Room".
"I do know why he has called you here, but I cannot yet tell you why." Estel admitted, weariness hardening his features once again and stealing into his heart. He was tired of the world of Men. He did not wish for his heritage or the burdens that came with it. All he wanted was peace. For himself. For his family and friends. For Arwen.
Legolas noticed the change in his friend and sadness came over him as he looked at the Ranger now. The black hair that could never quite be tamed was beginning to show first signs of silver weaving through it, the youthful face he had first seen was long gone, the edges hardened by worries and war and the light in the silver eyes undimmed and yet changed. Somewhat subdued.
To an Elf, who was immortal, change came slowly, unnoticeably, therefore it was all the more harder to see a beloved person change so rapidly. Estel was blessed with an extraordinary long life, the blood of Númenór flowing strongly through his veins, yet Legolas knew that someday his friend would grow old and die. His heart clenched at the thought even as he pushed it away. Odd that these thoughts should come to him now.
He walked over to the Ranger who was once again gazing off into the distance as though seeking for something.
"Whatever it is, Estel, you know you are not alone in this." Legolas laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, their way of giving the other strength.
Estel nodded. He knew Legolas meant what he said, but the Prince did not yet know what evil they were about to face.
The two friends stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, the distant rushing of the Bruinen as it fell down the cliff face on the far side of the valley, the song of the birds and the soft rise and fall of voices in the gardens below carrying to them on the warm evening breeze.
"Tell me Estel," Legolas finally asked, when he noticed that Estel did not intend to break the silence on his own, "Where are your brothers?"
The Ranger shifted only his gaze to the golden-haired Elf beside him. "Father sent them on an errand, they are expected back soon."
He walked over to the huge armchair he had spent so many nights in, watching over the Prince after he had dragged him home half dead, or after they had been brought home half dead by Elladan and Elrohir, or of course, after *he* had been dragged home by the Prince, but then the Prince would always sit watch next to his bed in the adjoining room. He almost smiled at the memories as he dropped into the soft cushions.
"Do you remember when we first met, Legolas?" The Ranger looked up, meeting the familiar blue gaze of his best friend.
The Elf nodded and sat down on the bed opposite his human friend. "Of course, mellon-nîn, how could I ever forget?"
Weary silver eyes that were the only way to tell the Dúnadan's true age sought the Elf. "I yearn for those days. Life was much easier then. Cares seemed less and dangers easier to conquer. Why does everything always have to change?"
Legolas felt sympathy for the Ranger, yet he could barely stiffle a smile at his friend's question. "Ah, but my friend, that is the way of the world. You know, by Elven standards you are even now still a child. Do not let the weight of the world settle upon your shoulders, gwador-nîn. Not without a good fight."
Estel looked at his friend, his brother, a smile finally easing the lines out of his face. "I thought you disliked fighting, prissy Elf."
The Ranger threw the old taunt at his friend with much of the usual carelessness back in his voice and the spark that had been missing returning to his eyes.
"Filthy Human!" Legolas laughed out loud, throwing a pillow at Estel as he got up. "You should take a bath before Celboril calls us to dinner, I doubt your father would tolerate you looking thus at his table."
Estel stood too, pulling Legolas into a tight embrace. "It is good to have you here, my friend."
Luckily Legolas had long since gotten used to the very affectionate way that was custom in this house, something he did miss a little in his own home.
Laying his forhead against the Ranger's and meeting the man's gaze, Legolas smiled. "It has been too long yet again, but I am here now, and trust me Estel, you will not have to brave what lies ahead of you alone. You are my brother, your fights are mine." The Prince's smile widened. "You ought to have learned that a *long* time ago, Human."
Estel nodded. "Hannon le." Thank you. More words were not needed.
"Now go and wash!" Legolas shoved the Ranger to the door. "I am hungry and I truly don't intend to partake at dinner in the presence of an unwashed Ranger."
Laughing Estel exited the room, his mood lifted considerably. It was good having Legolas around again. The Elf had the uncanny gift of making the Dúnadan feel young again, something he did in fact miss very much. *****
Night had fallen over the lands, bringing with it the chill of the mountain air and the soft chirping of crickets in the gardens. Glow-globes had been lighted in the passages of the Last Homely House and fires crackled merrily in the Great Hall of Fire, where many of the Elves who resided in Imladris and also many of the guests who currently frequented Lord Elrond's home were gathered before dinner.
Estel was just fastening the last button of his dark green velvet over- tunic when the sound of hoof-beats reached his ears. Looking out of the window his suspicions were confirmed, Elladan and Elrohir had finally returned and by the way they were mounting the steps to their home, he could tell that the news they would bring did not bode well.
The Ranger hurriedly left his room and sprinted down the stairs just to arrive in the entrance hall as the twins stepped inside.
Two nearly identical tall and dark haired elves stopped short when they saw their human brother racing towards them.
"Estel!" Elrohir cried out joyously, stepping forward to embrace the Dúnadan.
Elladan followed a few paces behind, noting with a slight frown the look of worry that the younger man wore.
"Thank Ilúvitar! You have returned safely." Estel pulled back from his brother's embrace, his gaze settling on Elladan. "What news do you bring?"
The elder twin cuffed his brother lightly upside the head, but he could not entirely suppress the hint of distress visible in his own eyes. "What kind of manners are those, brother? We have just returned from a long and arduous journey and you have not the decency to let us catch our breath." He smiled to take the sting out of his words, for he knew exactly how much of a burden this entire situation was for the human.
"I'm sorry." Estel bowed slightly. "I had forgotten that you had become soft with age." An impish smile crossed his face and reminded the twins that this grown and world-weary man was still very much the young and reckless Ranger that had gotten himself and them too in much trouble during his younger years.
"Why you.!" Elladan lunged for the Dúnadan, grabbing a fistful of the rich green velvet of the man's tunic before he managed to twist free of the Elf's grasp and hold up his hands.
"Sîdh!" Peace. Estel took another cautious step back, putting more space between himself and the Elf, yet unable to stop laughing at his brother's incredulous look.
"Enough!" A deep voice cut through the bickering, as Lord Elrond stepped out of the dining hall and into a very familiar scene of his three sons at the beginning of what could very well end as a catastrophe for the furniture and priceless artefacts in the house.
Estel froze, snickered and turned to look at his brothers. "Oops."
Elladan rolled his eyes before turning to his father, his look promising Estel retribution. "Ada." The twins embraced the elder Elf. "We bring news of the South."
Elrond nodded, motioning for all three of his sons to follow him. Noting Estel's hesitation the Elven Lord smiled fondly at his youngest. "Legolas has already joined our guests, he will be in good company until you are able to join him."
The Dúnadan nodded and followed the Elves to Elrond's study, where Elladan and Elrohir informed them of all they had learned during their long journey south through Eregion and Dunland.
"Of course there are rumours everywhere, flying on the wind and spreading as they ever have. Half of them are but tales of drunkards, but some few indeed tell the truth and 'tis very unsettling," Elladan concluded, his tall, slightly glowing form a stark contrast to the inky black night outside the large window he was standing in front of.
Elrond nodded gravely at his son's account, he had been expecting no less after all he had gathered so far. And yet it unsettled him, for he knew that Estel would have to bear the brunt of the evil they were to face. He glanced at the human who had been sitting in a chair by the fire, listening intently to his brothers' words, yet not speaking once.
"Perhaps I was wrong," Estel suddenly finally spoke up. "I am beginning to believe that you were indeed right from the start, to call this council and let representatives of all the races decide what is to be done." He looked at his father's ageless face and smiled, albeit somewhat gravely.
Elrond nodded. "I fear that your time of hiding amongst the Elves is over, my son. It is time for Aragorn, son of Arathorn, to step into the light and reveal himself, perhaps not to the enemy but at least to our allies. It is *you* they are most likely to follow."
He heard Elladan and Elrohir gasp in surprise, for it was a closely guarded Elven secret that the Heir of Númenór still lived.
Estel nodded, he had been expecting this for some time now. He did not wish for his heritage, for he feared that not only the strength of his forefathers flowed in his veins, but also their weakness. It was because of this weakness that the weapon of the enemy had not been destroyed three thousand years ago, when Isildur slew the Dark Lord Sauron and cut the One Ring from his hand. It had been on that very day that Isildur had decided against the destruction of the Ring and had kept it as an heirloom for his house. But the Ring was treacherous and had betrayed Isildur to his death, slipping from his finger and disappearing in the waters of the Gladden River which then flowed into the mighty Anduin, and therefore disappearing forever. Or so it had seemed.
Somehow Estel felt that it was upon him to right the wrongs caused by his ancestor. His gaze drifted to the ring he wore on his left forefinger, the green jewel glittering mysteriously in the firelight. The Ring of Barahir. This too was an heirloom of the House of Isildur, a token given to Barahir by Finrod Felagund after the mortal had saved the Elven Lord's life. This ring he treasured, it contained no evil magic, rather he thought it to bring him luck, for he had ever worn it since his father had passed it to him some sixty years ago.
He rose from where he sat, his head held high, his posture revealing that he was indeed every inch the King his family believed him to be. "Then it shall be done. Let the people know that Isildur's heir has stepped forth to help repel the shadow that has fallen upon the free lands of Middle-earth!" The Human's silver eyes sparkled with an inner fire as he stepped towards his Elven family. "It is time." His voice was low and filled with rage, rage against the dark foes of Mordor.
Elladan and Elrohir had watched Estel change a lot from the babe they had brought to Rivendell over eighty years ago, but the man they saw standing before them now filled them with a sense of pride.
Although the first of March of the coming year would mark Estel's eighty- seventh birthday, he still looked to be no more than forty years old. His dark, wavy hair looked slightly windswept as it ever had, his dark silver eyes were aglow with the same flame they had seen kindled in them many times before and every last trace of world-weariness that the Ranger had shown many times in the last few years seemed to have disappeared.
"Yes!" Elladan clasped his brother's right shoulder, nodding in agreement, his action mirrored by Elrohir.
Elrond watched with pride in his heart as his quiet and reserved youngest son finally accepted his heritage. Ilúvitar willing, Estel would one day be a fine and just King, but that was still for the mist-shrouded future to tell.
The Elf Lord stepped past his two eldest sons and embraced the Human, not finding words to express the joy and also the fear for the man's safety that clenched at his heart.
"I am very proud of you, my son. But do not be to rash with your actions just yet. Always wait for the opportune moment. That is of vital importance." He smiled at the Ranger. Yes, he had chosen correctly when naming the child Hope. This one truly was the only hope Middle-earth now had left.