Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
Author's Note- Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! Your kind words were greatly appreciated.----Please excuse any discrepancies that follow within my story with consideration to Tolkien's works. I've done my best to research both the information I've collected and the spellings I've used before including them in my writing , but my time and resources are limited, and sometimes a little knowledge can prove to be a dangerous thing! I hope you will enjoy this next chapter. :)
Relesen-Chapter 2
Legolas stared down at the injured man before him, closely observing the Human as he shivered in response to the chill night air, and spoke out. "Be still Estel, and rest. Soon we will have such a blaze before us that it will rival any born within the hearth at the Great Hall of Imaldris. You will be warm again, nin mellon." He finished tying to sound upbeat, although their situation was bleak, and the one before him still remained incognizant to any of his words.
Earlier he had finished tending to Aragorn's injuries. He packed cloth from a spare tunic he had found in the Man's traveling bundle carefully around the wound that surrounded the broken shaft, and used the rest of the rent fabric to bandage, then bind his right arm successfully to his chest to immobilize it, hence preventing his friend from causing himself any further harm. After that, he had drug Aragorn as gently as possible away from the thwarted dissension that lay around them before leaving him once more to gather what little wood he could find from their immediate surroundings for the use of starting up a fire. His first reluctant forage from his friend's side had been to hastily collect his discarded weapons and whatever salvageable arrows he could recover to refill his empty quiver incase they were besieged upon again by these relentless orc hunters. Picking his way through the sullied landscape, he recognized that Aragorn needed warmth forthwith , and though it proved loathsome to the elf, he also gathered some of the goblins' discarded hardwood truncheons along with whatever twigs and branches he could muster to add to his pile in an effort to expedite his undertaking.
Turning his attentions back toward the fire, he used one of the longer limbs he had acquired to stoke the now kindling flames before turning to his friend once more. Heat radiated outward from the assembled conflagration, but the Man beside him still trembled and the elf moved closer to draw the remnants of his cloak, now serving as a blanket, more closely about him. Aragorn's pale coloring along with the fact that he hadn't regained consciousness except for that brief interval earlier, born from pain of his unsuccessful attempt at removing of the arrow, worried the Sylvan elf. He had wrestled over in his mind this weighty decision of whether to remove the arrow completely here and now, or to leave the fragment in place while he sought further assistance for his friend. It was grievous to him to let matters stand as they were, but he could not help acknowledging that Aragorn's injury might prove beyond his skill as a healer, and so he chose to do the latter. Now watching over his friend's shivering form, he wondered worriedly if perhaps he had made the wrong choice.
"No!" He railed at himself. "Though our path appears ambiguous at present, how would you react if you chose the other course and it triggered his own life's blood to flow from out of him initiating his spirit toward a rapid departure?"
Reaching out with an unsteady hand, he brushed it against the young ranger's dampened brow in an attempt to ease the Man's and his own current discomfort. His friend laying before him had long passed the age of maturity in Human years, and would be drawing upon three years past a score at his upcoming birthday, but the vulnerableness that Aragorn's now prone body betrayed spurred Legolas on in his role as protector as he continued to shelter the Man. How contrarious this defenseless image that Aragorn now presented was from that of the young boy and then the man he had come to know throughout the years of their acquaintance, and he spoke out words of comfort to rally the spirit that lay within the still slumbering Dunadan.
"This will not do, Estel. You must fight, my friend. Fight with all that you have within you. This perhaps might prove to be our most arduous battle yet. You must fight hard, nin mellon. If not for yourself, then for me and your family. What would we do without you?" He finished with an attempt at a mirthful laugh only to find it cut short by a choked sob as he repeated once again. "What would we do without you?" He proceeded on, trying to introduce a teasing tone to his voice. "You have been the bane of our existence since your arrival at Imaldris, my friend. Who will keep us on our toes and forever embroiled in trouble if you should decide to flee?" He inquired gruffly although he tried to mask this with a feigned lightness as he reached forward to ruffle his friend's disheveled hair. "This will not do, my friend. Your brothers will certainly be displeased, and your father...." He could carry on the conversation no longer as his grief stricken voice broke completely while the hand at his side balled up into a fist of frustration, and he repeated his earlier words. "This will not do..." Though unspoken, his thoughts went on. 'You are not a quitter, my friend...even from the earliest days...such defiance you displayed.' the elf beside him recalled. ' A force to be reckoned with you were, young one...' Legolas continued as he finally managed to smile wryly in earnest, though his heart was still wrought with the pain of the moment . The elf allowed himself the comfort of letting his thoughts set adrift as they traveled back in time to remember their very first meeting.
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Legolas made a final attempt to brush back a few still dampened locks of hair as he glanced into the looking glass beside the mahogany wardrobe in his guest quarters at Rivendell. The trek across Hithaeglir had proven long and tedious as the complement of advisors he had accompanied from Mirkwood made their way along the Forest Road and through the High Pass until they reached the outskirts of elven realm. Not once, but three times their group had been assaulted by the savage goblins who lurked and preyed upon those who chose to travel such a route. Being forever on one's guard proved quite burdensome even for a party of First Born, and Legolas was grateful for this long deserved respite from his previous demanding task. The luxury of a good meal and a long, hot soak did wonders to one's spirit and disposition even if one had not obtained proper rest for over a fortnight. But sleep could wait for later, he was much too excited to slumber now. Being once again within the walls of Rivendell, his first ambition was to seek out his life long friends, the sons of Lord Elrond.
Adjusting the last of his two braids to his satisfaction, he made one more cursory check of his appearance in the reflecting glass before departing from his suite in search of his long sought after friends. He made his way through the many passage ways of the stone hall, and marveled that the family's living quarters were unusually quiet for this hour of the day. Most visitors would not have been so bold as to roam freely throughout the private apartments of their host's household, but the Lord of Rivendell, and his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were never ones to stand on formal pretense, accepting the prince of Mirkwood as one of their own. So as Legolas hummed a happy tune to himself, he entered the drawing room and found it empty. Thinking nothing of it, he flopped down upon the nearest overstuffed chair while reaching forward to drag a book from the low companion table beside it, then allowed his feet to take weight on its prior resting place. "The Histories of Minhiriath...." His voice trailed off as he thumbed through the thickly embossed pages, while acknowledging to himself wryly that the subject matter at hand was a little too droll for his taste before abandoning the book and allowing it to drop quietly to his side as he awaited for his two friends to appear.
A rustle from behind the draperies leading out to an enclosed balcony drew him back from his brief reverie and captured his complete attention as he called out. "Elladan? Elrohir? Is that you?"
No answer came forthwith leading Legolas to wonder if indeed his long journey and the winds whispering through the trees were playing tricks upon him. But when the curtains swayed again in exaggerated response, he knew for certain that no swirl of breeze would cause such a unseemly commotion. The welcoming clear, blue skies, without a hint of breath let alone a squall, that peeked through a span in the fabric, confirmed this to him, and he rose to investigate calling out expectantly. "Who's there?" Still no response came forthwith which spurred on the flame of intrigue that ignited deep within the fair elf's breast, burning all the more brighter as he reached his destination and immediately drew back upon the concealing ornate fabric. What his efforts revealed took the Sylvan elf by surprise, because there before him stood the form of a Human, and not that of a grown adan, but one in the likeness of child no more than a quarter of a score in age.
The pair of wary gray eyes that stared back at him proceeded to keep him off guard as Legolas muttered the first intelligable thought that came to mind. "Who are you?"
The serious little face, whose eyes guardedly glared back at him, turned up in an attempt at defiance as the child reacted to the elf's initial impertinent words "Who are you?" The young child countered while trying to maintain the spark of boldness that replaced the previous wariness imbuing his now rounded eyes.
The tartness that accompanied the child's response only further proved to distract the now bewildered elf as he grappled to cover for his loss of words and replied if not somewhat more annoyed than he had wished. "Ah! You are not only an interloper, who could rival any heavy footed orc in his lack of covert intentions, but you are an insolent one as well. I can tell you this, Lord Elrond does not appreciate unwanted guests trespassing in his private quarters. "
The child's brow now knitted with confusion as he considered the fair haired elf's words. " I am not an insoloper or heavy footed..." He returned unable to keep the hint of hurt from his voice before he continued, "... and I'm definitely not unwanted! This is my home!" He shouted while finishing with. "At least I possess enough manners to know better than to allow myself to get caught with my feet up upon Lord Elrond's good furniture!"
The tall archer cocked an amused brow at the young child's wry response as he went about considering what evident truths the small boy's words might hold. Legolas had recollected hearing at times how Lord Elrond did in fact take in orphaned edain children into his home; those children, whose families had succumbed to either illness or to raids upon their homes and villages. But according to the knowledge he had gathered thus far, and to the correspondences he kept with his two close friends, none of these children ever remained in the realm of Imaldris for any length of time since the elves did their best to place such children within the homes of their own kind. Perhaps this young boy in front of him was one such child, and suddenly Legolas' heart brimmed with empathy for the plight of one so small.
The child however used the elf's moment of contemplation to try and make a break from the room, and immediately took off to the left greatly underestimating the elf's quick reflexes. Legolas reached forward grasping the thin arm of the boy within his large palm, curling his fingers gently, but firmly about it to stop the boy's forward progression. His actual intent was to sort out the matter before him and help redirect the child toward his proper guest quarters, but mistaking the elf's actions for those of an aggressor, the young child reacted directly, almost as timely as the elf had himself, and he drew a slippered clad foot forward making hard contact with the shin of his oppressor, and taking the elf by surprise once more, thereby succeeding in his attempt to wriggle free from the tall being.
A quick gasp of pain escaped from the elf only to be cut short by an unutterable oath that the young boy knew his foster father would surely disapprove of. The fair immortal then took off after the small child, cornering him near the doorway as he eyed him warily. "Why you...." The angered First Born began though he consequently succeeded in checking his deep displeasure with the child, finding it oddly replaced by feelings of admiration for the youth's brazen resilience and capabilities.
The boy glared back at him breathing hard from his exertions, his breath coming in short, accelerated gasps. His eyes were huge, resembling those of a trapped animal within a hunter's sight, and his blood coursed rapidly through his small veins while his heart beat a heavy tatoo within the walls of his chest. He did not draw back , however, from the seeming predatoriness of the creature, who loomed above him, and the boy demanded once again. "Who are you? And, what are you doing in 'my' home?"
Legolas had no time to answer these onerous accusations put forth by the child as the sound of another voice broke on to the scene.
"Estel? Estel?" A harried voice called out. "Where are you?" It was followed immediately by a resigned exclamation. "Now where did that young rascal get off to this time? He certainly is a handful! I'd rather face all the orcs of Hithaeglir or the depths of Moria than to be held accountable for yet another of my liege's offspring! Looking after the likes of them was not in the bargain when Iluvator agreed to give us, Eldars, the immortal gift of life! And this newest one, well he's sure to be the death of me if only the Valar would be so merciful!"
Legolas watched as the child's previous trepidation faded as the approaching voice drew nearer, until at last the young boy called out. "Cerindur! Cerindur! I'm in here!"
The impatient figure of a raven haired elf, to whom the inquiring voice belonged, rushed by Legolas into the drawing room. His obvious relief at finding his small charge was clearly evident upon his face as he stepped closer to gently scold the young boy in the now vacant spot that Legolas gave way too. The Sylvan elf could not help but wonder as he watched the conversation taking place between these two if it were indeed possible for one of his First Born brethren to get gray hair. The eldar before him sighed in exasperation as he finished his brief chastisement of the young boy, and began muttering resignedly, "It was very naughty of you, young Estel, to disappear on me like that, and right before bath time! I will surely take this matter up with your father when he is free!"
Legolas tried hard to contain the mirth he now felt as he watched the situation unfold before him, and he bit down upon his lower lip to keep from laughing outright as he noted the look of displeasure that crossed the young child's face at the older being's mention of the word 'bath'. A small feeling of vindication arose within him that somehow, now, this small whelp would pay for his earlier disagreeableness.
Finally, the dark haired immortal with the boy noted Legolas' attendence in the room, and he hastily added. "Well excuse me..." until the light of recognition lit upon his face. "Why, Prince Legolas! My word!" The older elf exclaimed as he extended his hand outward in greeting before he continued on . "Welcome, welcome my boy! I did not realize that you were included among those with the Mirkwood contingent. "
"Cerindur" the Sylvan elf replied warmly taking the hand he offered firmly within his own, though his previous confusion came back to haunt him as to why Elladan's and Elrohir's steward would now be overseeing the servitude of this young Human.
He wasn't given the chance to dwell upon this fact any further as Cerindur spoke up. "I hope my young charge here hasn't been too great of a nuisance, Prince Legolas. He really is a dear boy, though sometimes that fact can easily become distorted." Cerindur finished while trying to suppress the grin of affection that these words brought forth, and the small boy beside him rushed forward to wrap his arms around the tall being's waist, burying his head into his silky folds of fabric making up the eldar's robes before gathering it and bunching it within his small, seeking hands.
Legolas observed the sudden change in the small boy's demeanor, as he became increasingly docile while allowing the other elf to withdraw him from the room, but not before his caretaker wished the Mirkwood elf a pleasant stay. Legolas stood in the doorway as he watched the odd couple make their way down the hallway together, the boy's custodian lecturing his charge once again on the inappropriateness of his conduct. The fair elf smirked for it seemed as if a spark of the small boy's earlier defiance reappeared upon his countenance as he listened to the fair being, though the young Human obediently nodded yes and no at each appropriate interval. Legolas was just beginning to consider the unique elvish name that the child possessed when he caught the sight of his two friends coming across a threshold as they entered into the same corridor as the small boy and his guide. He readied to call out to them in jovial greeting, but instead hesitated and watched as one elf and then the other addressed the Human child with deep affection.
"Interesting indeed...." Legolas remarked as his eyes beheld the scene before him. "...this little imp, whom they call 'Hope'."
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"Hope" he breathed aloud as his remembrance came to an end. "Lord Elrond gave you the Elvish name for Hope, my friend." He replied gently glancing down at the injured man before him, and reaching forward he allowed a comforting hand to stroke Aragorn's brow. He was alarmed as he drew it back to note that it felt warmer than it did mere minutes before. Worry played heavily upon his heart again. He needed to get Aragorn aid once the first light of dawn broke through. His eyes searched to the right finding the inky, dark shadows of the Misty Mountains looming over them in the moonlight and then to the left at the descending darkened valleys of Eriador, and he knew he had but one choice. He must get Aragorn back to Rivendell, and he must do so with haste before time and hope both ran out.