Folks, the first three chapters of this story have been pulled out from Returning From The Dead. Gil-neth had suggested that the sections on Estel interrupted the flow of that story, and I think that is a valid point.
The fourth chapter will be a new one. After I'm sure all four chapters are up and running in this new story, I'll delete the Estel chapters from their original location.
Estel was moping about the garden. No ElladanElrohir'n'Anomen—um, Legolas, that is. Worse, Elladan'n'Elrohir would be returning, but Estel knew that Legolas would not—at least not for a very long while.
"Eventually he will return to spend time with us in Imladris," Elrond had explained, "but I do not think he will ever again dwell here permanently. But you will see him when he visits, and you may yourself travel to Mirkwood when you are older or encounter him in Lothlórien. Mayhap someday you will journey elsewhere in his company. Who can tell?"
But 'mayhap' and 'someday' were small consolation to the boy. Today the absence of his friend was particularly bitter because it seemed as if he had been abandoned by everyone else as well. Elrond had been closeted with Glorfindel all day, poring over reports that had been brought by a messenger from Thoron's patrol on the border between Eregion and Dunland. The Cook was in an ill-temper because one of his apprentices had purchased several baskets of apples that proved to be mealy and worm-ridden. He was in no mood to countenance any mischief on Estel's part. The Armorer likewise was in a foul mood because one of his apprentices had mixed up a batch of bad glue and the fletching was peeling from the arrows that he had lately prepared.
The only person who seemed willing to pay attention to Estel was Erestor. Ai! Erestor! Why did it have to be Erestor!? The tutor had lately grown insistent that Estel memorize every last detail of the history and geography of Gondor. "This is important," Erestor insisted, "and I assure you that you will someday return and thank me for making you do this!"
Estel could not quite see how the history of that far-off land would be of importance to him, but he had matured enough to understand that it was sometimes necessary to trust his elders even if their purposes were not clear. Thus it must be said that he did work hard at mastering the lists of kings and battles. From time to time he also recalled that Legolas had once hinted to him that Elrond would someday tell him something important about his heritage. The emphasis Erestor was placing upon Gondor made him wonder if that kingdom would figure in the tale.
At the moment, however, such thoughts were far from the youth's mind, for he had just escaped from the library and had no mind to dwell further upon either history or geography. His lesson that day had been unusually long, for Erestor had decreed that, as Glorfindel would not be giving Estel archery and sword training that day, the time normally allotted for those activities ought to be devoted to more learnéd pursuits.
Normally Estel's spirits would have soared as soon as he entered the garden, but today they plummeted further when it became apparent that even his dog Gwaurant was going to ignore him. The last few nights, at the first sound of distant wolf howls Gwaurant would become agitated, and there was nothing for it but to let him out, whether from his pen or from Estel's room. Gwaurant would promptly vanish, apparently to join one of the wolf packs thereabouts. When the sun arose, he would come crawling back into Rivendell, his fur disheveled, his tongue lolling. Evidently exhausted, he would lap up some water and then stretch out in a sunny corner of the garden and sleep the day away.
"He comes back each morning all played out," complained an aggrieved Estel one morning at the breakfast table.
"Oh, yes," smirked Glorfindel, "all played out indeed!"
"Glorfindel," warned Elrond. "It is enough that the twins have that on their mind right now. You don't have to encourage Estel, too."
"No? You don't think so?" Glorfindel turned to Erestor. "Of course, Elrond is right. I really shouldn't say anything because I am sure that you will want to cover the topic, isn't that so, Erestor?"
Erestor glared at him. Nonplussed, Estel had looked back and forth between the two Elves, one glowering, one grinning, and wondered what it was that had just transpired.
But that was neither here nor there. Right now Estel wanted someone to romp with, and his dog was not up to the task. But someone else came into the garden just at that moment, and Estel momentarily brightened. Then he saw that it was Celaimîr, and he lost interest. Granted, Celaimîr was always very kind to him, but she wasn't interested in any of the things that captivated his fancy, to whit, riding, shooting, or parrying sword thrusts. Anyway, she was in a hurry, hastening toward the back of the garden, into a copse. Estel threw himself down beside Gwaurant and gazed reproachfully at the dozing dog.
Someone else entered the garden, and Estel sat up hopefully. Ah, Baramagor! Estel sprang to his feet with a shout and ran toward the scout. Baramagor, however, brushed him aside.
"Not now, Estel. I've somewhat to do."
Onward Baramagor hastened. He headed for the back of the garden and the selfsame copse that Celaimîr had but recently entered, and the scout vanished from view. Disconsolate, Estel plopped back down upon the grass, but then an idea occurred to him.
"I'll practice my tracking," he said to himself. "Surely I wouldn't be in Baramagor's way if I did that, for I'd only be trailing him and not interfering in any way."
He leaped to his feet and made for the spot where Baramagor had disappeared into the stand of trees. He found his trail and eagerly followed it, but it soon came to an end at the base of a tree. Estel was disappointed but also a little hurt. Baramagor hadn't presented him with much of challenge, and his "somewhat to do" turned out to be merely the desire to perch in a tree. The boy was about to turn away in disgust when he heard someone above him giggle in a voice pitched higher than Baramagor's. There was an answering giggle, pitched lower. Estel looked more carefully at the base of the tree and was chagrined to see that he had not been very observant: there were in fact two sets of footsteps that led to that tree. So Celaimîr was perched above as well. The branches above Estel's head shook slightly. More giggles. Estel was indignant. So Baramagor wouldn't play with him, but he would play with her!
Just then one of Baramagor's boots dropped from the tree, landing at Estel's feet. It was followed in short order by a second boot. Next Celaimîr's soft leather buskins fell to the ground. Hard on their heels, so to speak, came Celaimîr's kirtle and gown, and Baramagor's tunic, jerkin, and leggings followed in due course. Soon it was plain from the pile of garments upon the ground that neither Baramagor nor Celaimîr was encumbered by a stitch of clothing. Estel was furious. They meant to go swimming, and he hadn't been invited. He felt more than a little slighted.
"So you are going to make your way to one of the ponds," he thought. "Very well, then! Go ahead. I'll just take these clothes for safeguarding. Wouldn't do to leave them about, now, would it!?"
With that, he gathered up all the garments and stole away. He knew just the place for them, he thought. At one spot in the garden there was a hole that had been dug by a badger. It was said that this was the son of the son of the son of the son of a badger that had once dug a hole that Legolas had become trapped in as an elfling. Every year one of this long line of badgers appeared in the garden to excavate a den. Every year the Gardener chased it out of the garden and filled in the hole. The next year a badger—the same or its descendant—would show up and re-dig the tunnel. The Gardener would chase it away. The next year the whole process would start over again. The Gardener had but lately chased away the latest badger, but he had not yet filled in the hole. This would be a perfect place to stash Celaimîr and Baramagor's clothes.
After pushing the garments as far down the tunnel as he could reach, Estel left the garden in search of further amusement. He of course immediately forgot about the clothes or the Elves who had been wearing them. Gwaurant stayed behind, still slumbering in the sun. At length, however, the dog arose and stretched. Then he began to pad about the garden, snuffling as he went. The dog had recently become quite interested in the badger hole—in fact, it was his barking at the entrance to the den that had alerted the Gardener to the return of the creature—and so that was one place that he was certain to investigate. As he drew near, he smelled the scent of badger that still hung in the air. He also caught a whiff of Estel at the opening to the tunnel. Finally, he sensed the odor of Celaimîr and Baramagor, which grew stronger the further he wiggled into the den. At last he reached the bundle of clothes. Seizing it in his jaws, he squirmed back out again. Good. Something to gnaw. He shredded the clothes in short order, and also made quick work of the buskins. Then he settled down to chew on Baramagor's boots, whose toughness made them a much more satisfying object. They would be good for hours of entertainment.
Several hours later, after Gwaurant had reduced the boots to soggy pulp, he arose, stretched and yawned, and trotted out of the garden and through the gates of Rivendell. He made his way across the bridge that spanned the Bruinen as it flowed through the valley and disappeared into the woods beyond. The sun was westering, and he was eager to rejoin his pack so that he might while away the night romping and baying at the moon.
At about the same time, Celaimîr and Baramagor had at last wearied of their pastime and decided to climb down from the tree and return to the Hall. Down they scrambled and, then, puzzled, they looked about.
"I thought we had just dropped our garments, not tossed them in any particular direction," said Celaimîr. "Shouldn't they have fallen straight down and ended up at the base of the tree?"
"That is what usually happens," agreed Baramathor, equally bewildered. "Wait a minute!"
He stooped down and examined the ground closely. Then he groaned.
"Estel has been here."
"Estel!"
"Aye, and that would explain why our clothes have vanished. Wait till I get my hands on that little human! I'll Orc-tie him, I swear!"
"But what are we to do in the meantime?"
"Well, we can't very well go strolling back to the Hall, can we? We shall have to wait until nightfall. Then I could climb in at a window and toss some clothes out for you."
"I suppose there is nothing else to be done," sighed Celaimîr.
Then she suddenly smiled.
"We had better resume our former positions—in the tree, that is!"
Baramagor cheered up.
"You are right, of course. It is better to be up than down—um, up in the tree, I mean!"
Being in agreement on the importance of being up, the two scrambled back into the tree and settled themselves into their former positions in the crotch—of the tree, of course.
Back at the Hall, the Elves were assembling for the evening meal. Baramagor did not join his patrol at their table, but no one made much of that fact. It was not positively required that he eat each meal with his comrades when they were resting between patrols. Nor was the Armorer troubled when he did not see his daughter among the ellith. She was old enough to dine privately with a few of the other maidens if she so chose, and he did not expect her to ask his leave beforehand.
It was not until later, when the Armorer went to bid her good-night, that he realized that she was unaccounted for. He stopped at the chamber that she shared with a few ellith of roughly the same age, and they told her that she had not been seen since shortly after the noon meal.
"I am certain that she left the Hall," said one. Everyone agreed, and some added that she had gone alone. Everyone likewise agreed that no one had seen her return. The Armorer hastened to the Door Warden, who made inquiries of his underlings, and the maidens proved to have been correct. Celaimîr had left the Hall by herself but had never returned. It was now several hours past sunset and quite dark. The Armorer hurried to Elrond's chamber. Just as he arrived, several members of Baramagor's patrol strode up. They were setting out on the morrow, and he had not attended the gathering that was traditionally held the night before a patrol went out (supposedly so that the patrol leader could review their orders, although other events sometimes transpired). As Baramagor was this patrol's leader, his unexplained absence certainly merited some concern.
Two unaccounted for, and at night. Elrond agreed that this was worrisome, and he immediately ordered that everyone available commence a search of Rivendell and its environs. Even the Gardener took part, hastening to the grounds that he tended, which of course he knew better than anyone. It was not too long before that worthy horticulturist came upon the remnants of elven garments, those of both an Elf and an Elleth. Aghast, the Gardener gathered them up and ran straight to Elrond's chamber, shouting his fears as he ran to all the Elves he encountered. He scarcely waited for Elrond to say 'Enter' before he burst into the room.
"My Lord," he gasped, "I found these in the garden. I saw the tracks of only one beast, so Gwaurant must be responsible!"
Celaimîr's father began to keen in grief, but Elrond bade him be still.
"Have you not observed," Elrond asked him, "that there is not a single speck of blood upon these garments?"
The Armorer was bewildered.
"What are you saying, my Lord?"
"I am saying," said Elrond, "that Celaimîr and Baramagor were very unlikely to have been wearing these clothes when the garments were being chewed upon."
The Armorer looked relieved for a moment. Then the full significance of what Elrond was saying sank in, and his face turned a shade of red not usually seen in an elven complexion.
"Now, now," Glorfindel tried to soothe him. "What can you expect? They are, after all, both of them a full millennium in age. Why, if you will think back to your own youth—"
The Armorer turned even redder, if that were possible.
"Hush!" hissed Erestor. "I do not think encouraging him to think of what he was doing at their age is a very good idea at the moment."
Elrond hastened to turn the conversation.
"We still need to find Baramagor and Celaimîr. I do not think they will have gone far."
"I suggest," said Erestor, "that we do not in fact try to find them at all. Call in all the searchers, and place a number of garments about the garden—but in the bushes and the trees, not on the ground where they can be chewed! After the hubbub has died down and the garden is dark and quiet, I am sure that our missing Elves will clad themselves appropriately and reappear in a dignified state."
"That is an excellent plan," agreed Elrond, and he asked Glorfindel to see that it was carried out.
Elves of course move very quietly. Even so, living at Rivendell, Estel had developed hearing that, while not as acute as an Elf's, was better than that of most Men. So it was that the search for Baramagor and Celaimîr had generated enough bustle to awaken him. Looking out the window, he had seen Elves with torches moving throughout the grounds, and he had observed the Gardener hastening toward the Hall with shredded garments in hand. He remembered then that he had seen neither Baramagor nor Celaimîr at supper that night. Feeling both guilty and frightened, he pulled on his own clothes, meaning to join in the search. As he slipped outside, however, he overheard some Elves talking about Gwaurant. Word had not yet gotten around that no Elves had been in the garments when the dog had chewed upon them.
"Lord Elrond will have to have that beast destroyed!" declared one Elf.
"Aye," said another. "For all the little human loves it, it has proved to be a wolf in the end!"
Terrified, Estel ran to Gwaurant's pen, but of course the dog had not yet returned from the forest. The boy heard the distant howls of wolves, and he knew that his pet must be out frolicking with the pack.
"I must find him!" he thought to himself. "I must find him, and we must run away together!"
Estel slipped at once into the kitchen, which was quite empty as all had joined in the search for the missing Elves. He seized a sack and hastily threw into it everything edible within reach, and then he hastened as quickly as he could away from the Hall, rejoicing at the fact that he encountered no Elves with torches as he did so. Ai! If only he had realized that they had been recalled because Celaimîr and Baramagor were believed to be safe! Fortune was surely not in his favor this night.