While Estel had been breaking fast in the company of Heard and his family, Erestor was finding that it did not require much skill for him to stay on the trail of the southern pack, so obvious it was. Cheerfully he rode onward. Suddenly, however, his horse shied from side to side and refused to go forward, no matter how Erestor urged him. At length Erestor gave up and dismounted. They were in a stand of trees, and he did not know what lay beyond. Drawing his sword, he cautiously stole forward until he could see what had spooked his horse. Wolves.
The wolves lay sunning in the warm sunlight, their tongues lolling. Apparently Erestor was of no interest to them, for only a few briefly looked at him, raising their muzzles from where they rested upon their forepaws, then lazily dropping their heads back into their former positions. Erestor lowered his sword but did not sheath it. Anxiously, he looked about the meadow. He saw no sign of either Estel or Gwaurant. Had he been wrong? Had Estel indeed gone west? Or mayhap this was a local pack of wolves, and Estel and his companions had gone on further, past this meadow. Or, if this was the right pack, might not Estel and Gwaurant have journeyed on alone?
Erestor edged around the clearing, looking all the while for any sign of Estel. When he arrived on the far side of the meadow, he was rewarded by the sight of a smallish boot print beside a stream, alongside the paw prints of a dog. "Ah," he thought smugly, "I was right! Estel is heading south. Poor Glorfindel, on a fool's errand to Bree!"
Erestor's gloating was soon tempered, however, by the fact that it was no longer so easy to track the lad. When the wolf pack had accompanied Estel and Gwaurant, the trail had been wide and clearly marked. Now the going would be slower. On Erestor trudged, his head bowed as he carefully scanned the ground for the signs marking the passage of boy and dog. Even had he not left behind his horse, he could not have ridden, for he had not the skill to spot the necessary subtle signs from horseback. Still, he wished he had his horse, if only for the company. He was in a darkish wood, and the sounds coming from all sides were eerie—croaking and crackling, squealing and snapping. Suddenly Erestor heard the oddest sound of all, given his surroundings—the clearing of a throat. He jumped and spun about looking for the source of the sound. There stood an agéd man, bearded and cloaked.
"Ah, Lord Saruman," Erestor exhaled with relief. "It is good to see a friendly face."
Saruman surveyed him, smiling sardonically.
"I had not thought that you were one to wander past the door of a library. What do you here?"
"I am trying to recover one of Elrond's fosterlings who has gone astray. Mayhap you have come across him. He is a little Man, a lad of ten."
"A human?"
"Yes," babbled Erestor, "a human, but not bad for all that. Grubby and mischievous, but good-hearted. He would be traveling with a dog but has lately been in the company of several wolves."
"Unusual companions," observed Saruman.
"Yes, but he is an unusual boy."
"Pray, tell me more."
Suddenly Erestor realized that he had been speaking rather too openly. He was pledged to reveal no more about Estel than absolutely necessary. He knew of no especial reason why he should not trust Saruman, but he also knew of no reason why he should freely reveal any particulars about Estel to the wizard.
"Oh," the tutor said with assumed casualness, "he is of course unusual because he has been raised by Elves. His father had the misfortune to be slain whilst upon a journey—I am not sure of the details—and so, even though the child was a human, Elrond pitied him and took him in."
"How extremely generous of the Lord of Imladris," said Saruman sarcastically.
"Um, I suppose that Elrond being half-human himself, he could see the good in the lad."
"Still, very open-minded of him, I am sure."
"Yes," agreed Erestor, who, if he had been human, would have been sweating. He recalled that Legolas did not like Saruman, and he was beginning to understand why. The Istar had eyes that put Erestor in mind of a bird of prey, and, with his sharp, hooked nose and his long, curved fingernails—talons, almost!—the Istar rather looked as if he were preparing to pounce as a hawk does upon a mouse.
"What is the name of this small human?"
"Estel."
"Estel? That is an elvish name. What was he called before he entered the household of the Peredhil?"
"That name has been forgotten, I suppose," answered Erestor. He was only being a trifle deceitful in his reply, for it was rare that anyone thought of Estel as Aragorn son of Arathorn. "In any event, it does not seem that you have seen him, so I should resume my search. Good-day to you!"
Erestor cautiously edged past Saruman and hastened on his way. As for the wizard, he had much to think about.
"Estel," he mused. "Estel. Was that not the name of the ragtag urchin who was dangling at the tail of Legolas a few years back? It seems that the brat must be dear to the Elves, for it appears that they are willing to go to a great deal of trouble on his behalf. I wonder what motivates them to take such assiduous care of a worthless waif—unless he is not worthless. But of what value would a man-child be to an Elf? Even a half-elven such as Elrond has powers far superior to the greatest of humans—although nowhere near those of an Istar, of course. There is some mystery here needs solving, and I deem that Erestor has not told as much as he could about the matter. He must be encouraged to speak more freely and at greater length."
Saruman made a peremptory gesture, and two half-goblins came slinking out of the woods.
"Capture and bind that Elf whom I lately spoke with. See that you secure him to a tree!"
Too often had Saruman's prisoners given their captors the slip. This time he would be sure of his victim.
"After you have bound him, force him to drink this potion."
Saruman handed the larger of the half-goblins a stoppered flask.
"When the potion has taken effect, come and fetch me. Take care that you do not summon me too soon, for I do not wish him to remember who it was questioned him."
The two half-goblins scuttled away on the trail of the tutor, taking care to move as quietly as they could. Quiet as they were, however, Erestor's encounter with Saruman had made him more than usually vigilant. Who or what else, he wondered, might suddenly spring up from the forest floor. And if someone or something else was out there, mayhap it would have weapons even keener than the words of a sharp-tongued wizard. Erestor had replaced his sword in its sheath after leaving the wolves behind, but now he drew it forth once again. Soon he heard the snapping of a twig. Had a deer trodden on a branch? Silence for a time. Suddenly Erestor realized that it was too quiet. He heard no birds, no squirrels, none of small rustling noises that out to mark the passage of tiny woodland creatures. Then he saw them: two half-goblins, scimitars raised.
Erestor dove for the nearest large tree. Reaching it, he whirled about to face his foes, the trunk of the tree protecting his back. It was true, as Saruman had gibed, that Erestor spent most of his waking hours in the library, but that did not mean that his arm had lost all memory of thrusting and parrying. Before too long, he succeeded in driving his sword under the guard of the smaller of the half-goblins, who let out a howl and leaped back, nursing a badly slashed arm. His remaining foe let out a growl and stepped back slightly. Grinning fiendishly, this second half-goblin drew a knife from his belt and balanced it on his hand. He nodded at his companion, who left off moaning and likewise drew a blade. At a signal from the larger half-goblin, each threw his knife at one of Erestor's legs. The Elf used his sword to knock aside one of the blades, but the other hit home. Erestor gave a gasp of pain but immediately raised his sword to ward off the larger half-goblin who, emboldened, now drew near again.
"Yield, pointy-ear," he snarled, "unless ye want us to carve off those pretty little tips of yers. Hey," he addressed his companion, "wouldn't 'e look better with round ears? Look like a regular filthy human, 'e would."
"Have to chop off his hair, too."
"Aye, we kin do that," sneered the leader, raising his scimitar menacingly. "Probably some other parts we kin chop off as well without makin' 'im any less useful—toes, fingers, dangly bits.
His companion chortled in a hideous fashion and likewise raised his sword. Their ugly threats, however, only strengthened Erestor in his resolve not to yield. Better to die fighting than to afford merriment to his tormenters. Or at least better to be severely injured so that he would shortly perish rather than linger in captivity. But he would try to leave behind his mark on the bodies of his enemies.
The half-goblins were in no hurry now that Erestor was injured. They knew time was on their side, for the Elf could only grow weaker. Almost casually, they took turns swinging their weapons s at Erestor. The first few times, he merely parried their blows, and it seemed to the half-goblins that this was a most entertaining way to spend an afternoon. They were mistaken in their complacency, however. Suddenly, as the leader feinted at Erestor, the Elf knocked aside his scimitar and gave him an injury to match his companion's.
"Heh heh heh," laughed the smaller of the two half-goblins. "Heh heh—aah!"
The leader whacked his companion's head with the flat of his sword, knocking him to the ground. Standing over the smaller half-goblin, he snarled, "I didn' laugh when 'e cut you."
"Sorry," muttered the felled goblin. "No sense o' humor," he added under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothin'! 'Twarn't nothin'."
The smaller goblin staggered up and stared balefully at Erestor, who was leaning against the tree as relaxed as if he were the spectator at a pageant.
"I'm tired o' this," announced the leader. "Getting' on toward the noon meal, it is. Let's finish the job."
The two half-goblins both raised their scimitars and began to simultaneously swing at Erestor with all their might. For all his nonchalance, Erestor was very weak by now, and after a few fearsome blows from his enemies, his sword was knocked aside. He tried to draw his knife, but no sooner had he lost his sword than the lead half-goblin leaped forward and seized his wrists, forcing his arms back and pinning him against the tree.
"The rope," gasped the leader. "Bring me the rope."
"We hain't got no rope," replied his companion.
If the situation hadn't been so dire, Erestor would have laughed. As it was, he took advantage of the confusion to abruptly jerk up his uninjured leg so that his knee was driven with all his strength into his foe's vital bits. The half-goblin let out a screech as high-pitched as that of a ringwraith and collapsed to the ground, doubled up in agony. Momentarily free, Erestor sprang for a branch. Seizing it, he tried to pull himself into the tree, but the other half-goblin seized hold of his injured leg and yanked. With a cry of pain, Erestor lost his grip and fell. At least he had the satisfaction of landing upon his foe, who yelped as the Elf's elbow was driven into his eye. Erestor rolled off the half-goblin and crawled toward some brambles. Before he could reach them, however, the smaller half-goblin had recovered sufficiently to scramble after him, and he once again brutally yanked Erestor back by his injured leg. The Elf fainted.
When Erestor regained consciousness, he found himself sitting against the tree. His arms had been drawn back around the truck and tied at the wrist. His cloak lay before him shredded, so he knew that the half-goblins had solved their rope problem. Said goblins stood before him glowering. The eye of the smaller one was swollen completely shut. As for the leader, he stood slightly hunched over, a pained expression upon his face. With an effort, Erestor hid his smirk.
"Elf-rat is finally awake," snarled the leader. "Now we kin give 'im the potion an' be done with 'im."
"Hain't we gonna play with 'im? You know, carve his ears, an' sich like."
"Nah. Leastways not now. Mebbe later. 'Ere, you hold his chin and pinch his nostrils shut. He'll have to open his mouth then, and I'll pour this stuff down his gullet."
The smaller half-goblin did as he was bidden, capturing Erestor's chin and holding it tightly, then pinching his nose. Holding the flask, its stopper removed, the leader stood expectantly, waiting until the moment when Erestor would be forced to take a breath of air. He waited and he waited and he waited. Erestor's eyes glazed over, as if he had gone into a trance. In fact, that is exactly what Erestor had done, his heart and breathing slowing so that he would need much less oxygen. Eventually, however, even an entranced Elf must breathe, and as soon as Erestor opened his mouth slightly, the half-goblin stuck his filthy fingers in and forced his mouth open as wide as it would go, pouring the vile concoction down his throat. The half-goblin drew out his fingers and ordered his underling to push the Elf's mouth closed and hold it shut until he'd swallowed the noxious stuff. Foaming at the mouth, Erestor gagged and choked. Suddenly his eyes closed, and his head fell forward.
"Hah!" crowed the leader. "That's done for him. Now I'll carry the news to the master."
"Why can't I tell 'im?" whined his companion.
"Cause I'm bigger than you, and I'll sew yer mouth shut if you give me any lip."
"Oh."
This explanation seemed to satisfy the smaller of the half-goblins, who immediately plunked himself down and began picking at the dried blood on his injured arm. As for his larger companion, he drew himself as erect as he could, wincing a little, and then marched away in search of their master.
Left to his own devices, the smaller half-goblin picked at his wound for awhile. Finally tiring of that amusement, he rolled himself in the remnants of Erestor's cloak and fell asleep. He did not notice that a black liquid was trickling from the sides of Erestor's mouth. Once the half-goblin had begun to snore, Erestor raised his head, opened his eyes, and spat out the rest of potion.
"Paw!" he gasped. "Fouler than Legolas' cake," he muttered. Never thought I'd find myself saying that!"
He had swallowed some of the liquid, so he felt dizzy and ill, but not enough to lose the use of his wits. He began to try his bonds. They were tight, but he thought that by flexing his hands repeatedly, he might be able to stretch them enough so that he would be able to slip free eventually. He hoped that his guard would sleep long.
He worked at freeing himself for some time and began to rue the quality of the yarn out of which his cloak had been woven.
"Wish I had been wearing a Dunland cloak—would be loose by now," he grunted.
At that moment he heard a growl. He raised his head and looked about anxiously. The growl sounded as if it had been made by a large animal—a wolf perhaps. The growl was repeated, and a twig snapped. Suddenly Erestor wished that his guard was awake.
"A wolf would gladly dine upon that fellow—but then I would become dessert!"
The Elf saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He tensed, then relaxed.
"Gwaurant," he whispered. "Do you suppose I could trouble you to gnaw through these bonds? I know that you were able to chew through my boot strings when I tied you to a sapling—you have forgiven me for that, have you not?"
"A knife would work better, I think," said a soft voice.
Erestor looked up, his eyes wide with alarm.
"Estel," he gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"Rescuing you," the boy said calmly.
He knelt beside the sleeping half-goblin. He took a deep breathe, but he hesitated only a moment before slitting the creature's throat. Estel turned a trifle pale as the blade sliced through his enemy's flesh, but the boy did not cry, and he quickly recovered, moving around behind the tree and slicing the bonds that secured his tutor. He helped Erestor stretch his cramped legs, and then he cut some strips from the ruined cloak to bind the wound in his leg.
"Erestor, I see by the tracks hereabouts that you were attacked by more than one."
"Yes, and the second has gone to fetch another."
"I know you are wounded, but we must leave this place."
"That had occurred to me," Erestor replied dryly. "Can you bear my weight upon your shoulder? My horse is back yonder, just on the other side of a clearing where a wolf pack takes its ease. If you can help me that far, I will be mounted and we shall be able to journey as quickly as you are able to walk sans the encumbrance of an injured tutor."
"Under those circumstances, I can walk very quickly indeed," replied Estel.
He rooted about and found a sturdy stick, and then he helped Erestor to arise. Clutching the stick in one hand and with his opposite arm around Estel's shoulder, Erestor was able to move with reasonable rapidity. Soon they had left the slain half-goblin far behind and were entering the clearing. The wolves still lay about, and this time they completely ignored Erestor, who, as he was in the company of Estel, was even less of a potential dinner than he had been before. As for Gwaurant, he was an old friend.
Upon regaining the side of his steed, Erestor gladly accepted Estel's aid in mounting him, and boy, horse, and dog began to trot with all possible speed toward the north while Erestor gratefully allowed himself to drift into elven dreams, his eyes open but unfocused. As for Saruman, at that moment he was arriving at the scene of the struggle between Erestor and the half-goblins, where, to his dismay, he saw that once again a target of his malevolence had succeeded in escaping. As he glanced unconcernedly at the body of his erstwhile servant he saw that the creature's throat had been cleanly cut. He also saw that a sharp knife had been used to slice through the bonds that had secured Erestor to the tree. It was clear at once what had happened. Erestor hadn't found his Estel, but the brat had found him. If it were all possible, Saruman now began to hate the little human even more than he hated that Elf Legolas.
As Saruman perused the scene, the surviving half-goblin eyed him uneasily. He knew very well what generally happened to servants who failed the Istar of Isengard. Saruman, however, had hopes of recapturing Erestor, for he did not know that the Elf's horse had not been far off. The half-goblin's life was therefore safe for the time being because the wizard thought he could make use of him. Together, wizard and half-goblin set out in pursuit of Erestor and his rescuer. As both master and servant were uninjured, they moved rapidly through the forest until they, too, approached the clearing.
It was near dusk by now, and the wolves were rousing themselves. Saruman, in his eagerness, preceded the half-goblin into the clearing but came to a sudden stop with an exclamation of dismay when he saw the wolf pack. These were not his creatures, he knew. As one, the wolves sprang to their feet, their hackles rising, growls in their throats. They spread out as, their bodies tense, they began to slink across the clearing, their eyes fixed upon the wizard. Just then the half-goblin blundered into Saruman from behind. The wizard whirled about, seized his servant, and pushed him forward into the clearing. Caught off balance, the half-goblin fell, twisting an ankle as he did so. Dazed, he looked behind him. The wizard had vanished. Then he looked forward, and he both trembled and sweated, his eyes dilated with fear. From three sides wolves advanced upon him.
Within a few days Saruman returned to Isengard from his latest errand. As for his companion, he was never seen again.