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Chapter 12 – Strength
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Dínendal trusted his mount completely, knew that she was aware of his need, and their anxiety was great as they both felt the light of their charge growing dim. The mare flew through the trees, forcing the wind to give chase. She was exhausted but so was her rider. She could feel the quivering of his thighs as he pressed into her shoulders, holding steadfastly the fallen warrior in their care. She would not stumble nor would she fall.
Celeborn was waiting when Dínendal thundered through the main gates of the city, Anendel held tightly in his arms. Both horse and rider were deceptively calm as they were divested of their charge, and the guardian was stoic in his composure as he relayed the events and the words of his Captain to his Lord. However, Celeborn saw the slight trembling of his frame and the wild glint in the eyes of his steed.
"You have done well, Dínendal, but you are weary. Let others care and stable your horse and take rest."
"Thank you, my Lord, but that will not be necessary. I am well. I will see to my mare."
Celeborn squeezed his shoulder in understanding then brushed a calming hand across the mare's muzzle and down her long neck before turning to leave. It was only when his Lord had retreated from view that Dínendal collapsed shakily against her sweaty bulk, consumed with fear for his friends. With his fingers tangled lovingly in her mane, he hugged her fiercely, silently praising her effort and strength.
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Haldir and Orophin found the remnants of the trap lying on the edge of the forest and followed the blood trail left by Anendel up into the tree in which he had lain. She was whispering fretfully, and the brothers leaned against her, trying to calm and reassure her that her charge had indeed been found. After she had quieted, they stood side-by-side on one of her strong branches, looking out over the wide meadow, solemnly watching the setting of Anor.
"They have had him at least five days, Orophin. They are Edain, so they must sleep and will not travel long into the night. They have wagons and Rúmil so they are moving slowly, and, obviously, they are not too bright. If we stop only to refresh the horses, we should have them in sight within three days."
On horseback, the brothers moved swiftly, having little difficulty following the trail illuminated by the light of Ithil, and she seemed to dip lower in the autumn sky for them, brightening their path, lighting their way. Coming to a small stream, they stopped briefly to rest and water the horses but taking little rest themselves.
Concentrating on the trail, they had spoken little, unsaid worries weighing heavily on their hearts. Now, as they waited for the horses to complete their respite, those worries and fears began to work themselves to the surface.
"Haldir, there are only two reasons that Edain take elves. For labor or to…"
Orophin dropped his gaze, worry etched across his handsome face. Haldir turned away abruptly, thoughtfully looking into the distance.
"What if it was not for labor, Haldir?"
Though he would not speak it aloud, Haldir silently shared Orophin's fears. He had met many men during his travels, both fair and fell. The inner fire of the Edain burned hot and bright, more so than that of the Elves at times, but when twisted to darkness, that fire consumed all those around them without mercy, especially the innocent, and the thought of that dark blaze turned against his brother sparked a firestorm of rage within his heart.
"Then their deaths will be slower and more painful than even the Dark Lord himself could conger."
Taking a deep breath, Haldir turned back to his brother and resting his hands on his shoulders, said, "They are on the run and intent on reaching their own territory. We will get to him in time."
Reading Orophin's uncertain gaze, Haldir leaned in so that their foreheads were touching, and, repeating the threat that the brothers had used many times when dealing with Rúmil, whispered, "We will find him, and when we do, we will bring him home and tie him to the tree which holds our talan for the next hundred years."
Rewarded with a brief smile from his brother, Haldir said, "Come, we must ride on."
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Celeborn entered the airy talan quietly and approached the bed that held the young warden.
"How does he fare?" asked the Lord softly.
"He still sleeps, my Lord. We were able to counteract the substance that lay within the wound, and though he lost much blood and is still weak, he no longer fades from his injuries."
Celeborn continued to gaze at the warrior, understanding clearly the meaning of the healer's words. The guardian was still young, and while strong and fearsome in battle, having fought against brutish, hulking orcs and many fell beasts, he had never seen the fall of a fellow warrior, a fall made all the more troubling because of the circumstances surrounding it; a fall caused by their successors, by Men. Celeborn was thoughtful for a moment and then turned to speak to the healer.
"Go refresh yourself. I will sit with him for awhile."
"Thank you, my Lord," the healer said, and bowing respectfully, left his patient without worry in the capable hands of his Lord.
Celeborn sat on the edge of the bed in which the pale elf lay. Placing his hand over that of the sleeping warrior's, he closed his eyes, giving of himself to the other, letting his mind touch that of the injured elf.
'You have shown much courage young one, and the trees still sing of your strength. Be at peace for all will be well.'
He was about to withdraw when he caught flashes from the warrior's mind, fleeting glimpses of Rúmil smiling mischievously, laughing, and darting through the trees.
Celeborn laughed softly, he himself remembering Rúmil flashing him that same smile many times while vexing his brothers endlessly.
He shared with the sleeping elf his memory of a small Rúmil running through the Royal Talan naked as the day he came into Arda, his brothers in swift pursuit.
The elfling had decided that to properly commune with the forest and its inhabitants as did his Lord, he needed to discard of all hindrances between himself and nature.
In a bold tactic, the fleeing elfling had tucked himself away inside Celeborn's long robes to elude capture. For the reminder of the day, all that was seen of the child were the tiny, bare feet that kept in perfect step with that of his protector.
When at last discovered by his brothers, Orophin wrestled Rúmil to the ground, struggling to pull a tunic over his head, while a very perturbed Haldir stood before him, hands on hips, glowering up at his Lord, admonishing him silently for encouraging Rúmil's apparently misguided behavior.
Celeborn had known Kings that had wilted under his gaze, yet Haldir had not wavered once, and he knew, at that moment, that Haldir and his brothers would one day be a force to be reckoned with.
Orophin, finally succeeding –somewhat- in his attempt to dress the naked elfling, stood grinning in victory with Rúmil wrapped up snuggly, the arms of the tunic tied tightly about his waist. With a *humph,* the future March Warden gestured to his brother, who had thrown the wiggling Rúmil over his shoulder, and giving a bow to the Lady, turned and left, brothers in tow.
Smiling widely, Celeborn met his Lady's gaze, her eyes glistening with mirth as she held a slender hand over her mouth, laughing quietly. This was one of Celeborn's most cherished memories and but one of the many that had forever endeared the brothers to the Lord and Lady.
His laughter faded, though, as the thoughts from the young warrior began to grow dark and sinister. He gasped as he felt the pain of the wire and saw Rúmil tumble to the forest floor. He saw the Faradrim standing over the warrior, and he felt the heart-breaking helplessness and anguish of the one looking down from above.
"Meleth nín?"
Celeborn turned to see his mate smiling softly, the joy, and pain, of shared thoughts and memories gleaming in her eyes.
"I fear what will happen if Rúmil is not recovered. His is not the only life held captive by the Edain."
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~* To Be Continued *~
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Meleth nín = My Love
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