Eldarion
"So shall we go?"
Estel leaps to his feet in one smooth movement and I marvel at it. I used to do the same with Legolas when I watched him long ago. How do they do that? How do they manage to be so graceful with every single move?
I am so caught up in the wonder of it I forget to answer and he frowns.
"If you wish to return to your own home of course I do not mind," he says but his eyes tell me my unintentional hesitation has hurt him and his words are a lie.
"You said you wished us to return to the beginning," I say in way of explanation. It does not help for that frown only deepens.
"And coming to see my home is the perfect way to achieve that." he answers.
"Why do you say that? Because we first met there? It was not very pleasant, Estel. Not for me anyway. If we are to return to not speaking I would rather do it apart, thank you."
"Not speaking?" I have obviously confused him. "What do you mean? Why would we do that?"
"Because you wished it! You were very clear. You said you had second thoughts. You wished us to go backwards to the way we were . . . to the beginning . . You said that. You cannot have forgotten in the beginning you could not say a civil word to me. You detested me."
"I did not detest you! I tried to and I failed. It was very irritating. You are far too likeable. Do you know how hard you made it for me?" Suddenly he is laughing, at himself, at me. He bewilders me.
I begin to wonder if Elrohir is right. We are too different. I cannot do this. I cannot understand him.
"I meant we would go back to that moment we first captured each other's attention. The time you first made me think . . He is someone I want to know. I meant us to start again discovering whatever it is between us . . Slowly this time." He smiles, reaches down and holds out a hand towards me. "Come on. Come to my woods with me, and know I never detested you."
I am such a fool.
"You must think me an idiot," I tell him as I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet but he merely grins.
"It seems Elrohir was wrong then, to worry about my youth and naivety compared to the wise and mature Eldarion," he chuckles, "for you are the one jumping to conclusions."
It seems both Elrohir and I were wrong indeed, about a lot of things.
"When was it?" I ask him after we have gathered our things, extinguished the fire and begun to move away from the glade.
"When was what?"
"When did I capture your attention? When are we taking ourselves back to?" Thinking back over our tumultuous beginnings I am intensely curious to know.
He pauses, tilting his head to the side as he bites his lip and considers his answer.
"When you came out to defend me from your wild sister!" He exclaims at last with a grin and he laughs at the confusion on my face. When did I do that? "When I spoke to you in Westron and you nearly fell over in surprise," he clarifies.
Oh I remember that.
He brushes his hand across the tips of the leaves as we pass them, the most gentle, the softest of touches. I remember Legolas doing that as well in times long ago, as if he could not bear not to be permanently connected to the trees.
"Why do you do that? Touch the leaves that way?"
"They talk to me."
"About what?" After all what would trees have to say?
"Well at the moment they tell me we are alone in these woods. Our fathers have not followed us here . . . Yet . . . which is somewhat confusing." I love the way he pauses in the midst of things when something perplexes him.
Then he is gone.
Quick as wink, as I stand, contemplating his beauty, and thinking of how much I love him, he disappears up into the canopy, so fast I almost do not see the blur of him. Then his face drops down in front of me as he flashes his brilliant grin, the one that stops my heart.
"Come and run in the trees with me!" He cries.
And I laugh at his ridiculousness.
"I cannot!"
"Yes you can," he objects. "Try it. You have the Elven fëa to help you balance."
"Estel, I would love to but I am too big, too heavy, too clumsy now. When I was a boy Legolas taught me the fundamentals, before he even knew of my fëa but it has been years . . . And my fëa is a Sindar one, not Silvan." I think I have convinced him with that last point for he does not immediately argue. "I mean does Thranduil run through the treetops?" I try to press my advantage home.
"Well he can actually," Estel is triumphant. "I have seen him!" The thought of the regal Thranduil running about through the branches like a wild Silvan takes me aback. It is so incongruous with the Thranduil I remember.
"Estel," I try one more time, "I have been nowhere near the treetops for years. Not since I was a boy. It all went wrong and I swore I never would again."
"It all went wrong?"
I can see the whole of him now. Before he was dangling above me but now he emerges to sit himself upon a low hanging branch.
And now I have to tell him another story I am not proud of.
"My father, Legolas and Gimli used to leave the city occasionally to go on mysterious adventures in the wild." I explain, "at least they were mysterious to me. When I was fourteen I was finally allowed to go with them. It was the most exciting moment of my short life, the day Father said yes to that.
"But I was beginning to be wilful. I thought I knew better than all three of them, especially when it came to my capabilities. Legolas took me to the treetops but I ran ahead, even when he called me back. What did he know after all, about how adept I was at climbing? Of course he knew far more than I. Predictably I fell, and to this day I do not know how he did it but he threw himself forward and broke that fall. He ended up with half a tree branch through his thigh for his troubles. Father made me stay while he removed it. He made me help hold Legolas down, to teach me the consequences of my disobedience. It was a lesson I needed to learn, though I think Gimli was furious with Father about it. And I have stayed out of the treetops from that day on."
Estel is serious and quiet as he listens to me.
"I am sorry," I tell him. "It seems you getting to know me involves me telling you over and over all the ways I have damaged your Father."
He reaches out a hand then, to rest it upon my head.
"I recognise this story," he says quietly, "but not because I have heard it before. Father has never told me this, though I have seen the scar on his leg. I recognise it because I have lived it."
Well that makes no sense.
"When I was just about done with being a boy," he continues, "just beginning to grow into a man, my Father took me to visit Elrohir for the first time. He was troubled then and never allowed me anywhere. I was trapped within our woods because of his fear of losing me, so that trip was beyond exciting. Better than that Elrohir actually convinced him to let us go off together exploring, just Elrohir and I.
"But I angry and sulky for Elrohir refused to answer my questions about my father. He told me some of the things I asked were none of my business and I thought I had the right to know it all. We were going to see a waterfall, to climb to the top, and I ran ahead in a fit of bad temper. I did not listen when Elrohir called me back. What did he know? I was a wood elf after all. I could climb much better than he. I ran off the path thinking I would show him, I would show him how much I knew and how little he did."
Despite myself, despite the fact he sits alive and well before me, I find myself holding my breath for that small wild Silvan boy putting himself in danger upon the rocks. Estel's small smile as he carries on is a wry one.
"I fell of course. I may have been able to climb trees but rocks were a different story and the ground beneath my feet was dangerous and unsteady. I ended up scraped and battered all over and broke my arm. Elrohir had to carry me screaming back to my Father. But that is not the worst," he says hurriedly as I wince in sympathy with his boyish self.
"The worst is I was so afraid of what my Father would say when he discovered my disobedience I lied. I allowed him to think it was Elrohir's fault, that he had allowed me to venter from the path rather than the truth of it, that I had wilfully defied him. My father raged at Elrohir, he banished him from our presence, he was so angry for I was the most precious thing in his life and I allowed him to believe Elrohir had shown no care for me at all. Elladan tore strips off me when he discovered my deception.
"I confessed in the end of course, but only after I had made things worse by running away. I swore then I would never be dishonest with my Father again, but I have been less successful at keeping that vow than you have staying away from trees!"
He pauses to grin at me from above, then he is all of a sudden, out of the trees and landing softly on the ground in front of me.
"They are similar stories, do you not think?" he smiles, "of growing boys, defiance, and learning those older than us sometimes do know better. We have both made mistakes as we grew."
"They are similar, yes." I must admit that and somehow it makes me feel better to know he has made the same mistakes I have as he grew.
"But I think my Father would would grieve indeed if he knew you cut yourself off from his beloved trees on his behalf. That would not be what he wanted you to take away from that. He loves them and he would want you to love them, especially if he took the time to teach you how to run in the tops of them. When we get to my home I will pick up where he left off and we will see if you are too big, or too heavy. I believe it will do you good. For now though, I will keep my feet on the ground."
He sighs as he says the last, softly so I almost cannot hear it, as if it is a true sacrifice he makes to walk upon the forest floor rather than run through its canopy. Probably it is.
I love that he makes it for me.