Silver badger: Wow! Thanks for the compliment!
Jebb, Coolio, Joee, Dragonfly, and Karri: So, you all think Estel was snatched by an eagle, eh. Well, well, let's see if you are right.
Dragonfly: I'm visualizing Estel as about ten at this point.
Athena Diagon Cat, Dragonfly, and Karri: Yes, Erestor certainly covered himself in glory. He gets covered in a bit more in this chapter.
"This garment is moth-eaten," exclaimed Gandalf. "You must have moths hereabouts!"
Elrond stared at him. Had his old friend gone mad?
"Moths! Moths!" Gandalf cried impatiently.
"Mithrandir, have you heard nothing I have said!? My sons and Estel, the last of Isildur's line, are riding into an ambush!"
"I know! I know! Pray take me to your moths!'
"In this season in the garden, I suppose."
Gandalf sprang to his feet and raced from the room, buskins flapping on his feet. Bewildered, Elrond ran after him. He found the wizard in the garden earnestly addressing the moths that perched on the flowers on one bush in particular. Elrond did not catch what he said, but as one the moths arose and fluttered away, making for the southeast, Elrond noticed.
"Now I must have the fastest horse left in the stable," declared Gandalf.
"Glorfindel has left behind his great steed, for, as Estel was mounted on a pony, there was no call to ride the faster mount. But Mithrandir, I am sure you remember that—"
"Never mind about that. I am sure once he realizes that Glorfindel's life may be at stake, he will not object to carrying me."
With that, Gandalf strode into the stable and boldly entered the stall of Glorfindel's great steed. Rapidly uttering a string of elvish words, the wizard sprang onto his back and galloped out of the stable, mauve robe flying. Elrond sprang aside and then stared after them. One of Gandalf's buskins fell off, but the wizard rode on, unperturbed. Elrond shook himself out of his amazement and hurried into the Hall, there to summon Berenmaethor and Thoron. A troop must be sent out at once. No doubt Mithrandir would reach his sons first, but Elrond would do what he could to second him.
Glorfindel's horse was indeed willing once Gandalf explained his errand. The horse thundered across the valley as wizard and steed rode parallel to the mountains for a time. At last they began to climb the slope that led to the Lórien pass, and the horse perforce had to slow. Still they were making excellent time, although Gandalf feared that they would be too late no matter how swiftly they traveled. The Orcs who had ambushed Gandalf had been both numerous and devilishly determined. Gandalf had been able to flee, but with Estel in the company, the wizard feared that his friends would not have that option.
As Gandalf drew near the scene of the ambush, however, Estel was no longer a part of the company. Horrified, Erestor had seen the lad carried off. There was now nothing he could do save safeguard his remaining companions, and this he did with a vengeance. Orc limbs were flying as Erestor fought toward Glorfindel, who was of course in the thick of the battle. As Erestor drew near, the balrog-slayer stumbled over a fallen Orc. Another Orc sprang forward to take advantage of the fact that Glorfindel was momentarily off balance. Said Orc was cleaved in half at the waist. Glorfindel looked up in astonishment to see a blood-soaked Erestor dismembering Orcs into portions of various shapes and sizes.
"Thank you, my friend," Glorfindel shouted. "I am forever in your debt."
"You dwarf-brain," retorted Erestor. "What's the matter with you!? This is no time for etiquette!?"
Chastened, Glorfindel scrambled to his feet and dispensed both with the formalities and with several Orcs. It seemed, however, that reinforcements must be pouring in, for no matter how many goblins the Elves slew, the number that they faced seemed undiminished.
Midway through the battle, the Elves' horses had begun to scatter, some on the command of their riders, who did not wish to see their companions slain, others driven away by the fury of the battle itself. Mithrandir began to encounter the Rivendell horses, singly and in groups of two or three. He called to them and they turned about, falling in behind Mithrandir and his steed. The wizard could hear the distant clash of weapons, and he led his herd of horses almost at a gallop, even though they were racing upslope and through trees. Trailing behind the galloping horses was a little pony. There was little he could do, but he was determined to play his part.
With a thunderous roar Gandalf's herd broke onto the battleground. Left and right Elves nimbly leaped for tree limbs, but the Orcs were not so quick. Many were trampled as the horses swept across the battlefield. Once on the other side, scarce waiting for Gandalf's command, the herd wheeled about and swept the field a second time. No Orc was left standing save one after this second charge.
That one Orc had scrambled behind a tree, the one in which Erestor had quickly sheltered. Now that Elf, seeing that the danger had apparently passed, dropped to the ground. The Orc slipped out from behind the tree, scimitar raised. Glorfindel saw his friend's peril.
"ERESTOR!"
The balrog-slayer needn't have worried, for just at that moment the Orc went flying. Before the goblin could recover himself, he found himself under the hooves of one small but brave pony, who neighed and tossed his mane in a fury as he did away with the evil creature. Once sure that the Orc had been trampled into the dust, the pony trotted to Erestor and nuzzled him. Erestor, usually never one to display tenderness toward either younglings or animals, flung his arms around the horse's neck and buried his face in its mane.
"Smells like Estel," he thought woefully to himself, fighting back tears.
Estel, meanwhile, was fighting back tears himself. He was suspended far above the ground, in the talons of a monstrous being, and he was miles from his friends. He felt dizzy as the clouds rushed by his feet, and his shoulders ached where they were clutched by the winged creature. Just when he thought he would cry outright, the creature suddenly released him, and he yelped as he tumbled into an eagle's aerie. The enormous eagle perched at the edge of his nest and surveyed him.
"So," the bird observed, "this is the kinglet."
Estel thought the eagle had said 'cutlet', and he finally did cry. The bird looked at him in astonishment.
"Mithrandir sent me in search of a brave lad. It seems I have snatched the wrong human. Shall I return you to your tree?"
At the mention of Mithrandir, Estel hastily dried his tears.
"If it was Mithrandir sent you, no, my Lord."
"Good. Remain here whilst I search out the wizard for his further instructions. If you become hungry in my absence, there is a cony."
Estel looked at the raw and partially disemboweled rabbit.
"No, thank you, my Lord," he said politely. "I have but lately eaten."
"Very well. I shall be back shortly. I travel as the crow flies, as Men are wont to say. Although," the eagle sniffed, "it has not been my experience that crows fly very straight at all. 'Tis an ill-founded proverb."
With that the raptor spread his enormous wings and was carried aloft by the wind. Soon he had dwindled to a speck in the sky, and then he was swallowed up within a cloud. Estel drew his cloak about him—it was cold on top of the mountain!—and he looked about him. He quickly perceived that the aerie was inaccessible to Orc, Man and even Elf. No foe could get at him here. On the other hand, he would have to depend upon the good graces of the eagle to return to his friends. Well, if this eagle were a friend of Gandalf's, he need have no fear on that score. Satisfied with his reflections, Estel mounded some moss and grass into a pillow and lay himself down to sleep. Estel was nothing if not practical.
Down on the battlefield, things were also taking a practical turn, although only after Gandalf had assuaged the fears of the Elves as to the fate of Estel. Erestor had practically thrown himself upon the wizard.
"Mithrandir, Estel has been carried off by a raptor!"
"A very large one, no doubt," said Gandalf calmly.
"Of course, Mithrandir! Only a large one could have carried off a boy of ten."
"Gwaihir, no doubt."
"Gwaihir? Oh, yes, of course! Gwaihir! So this was your doing, Mithrandir?"
"Largely. Although the timing was Gwaihir's, to be sure. I have noticed that he likes to wait until the last moment to affect a rescue—more dramatic that way, I suppose. That habit of his has caused me more than a few bad moments, I can assure you!"
"Well," broke in Glorfindel, "if that is the case, then we had better turn our attention to healing the effects of this battle. There are a lot of stinking Orcs here who will stink all the worse if their carcasses are not burned."
"Yes," replied Gandalf, "but first you had better make sure that they are all carcasses. Got a nasty cut across the back once when I mistook a live Orc for a dead one. I'll tell you the story some time."
"Yes," said Glorfindel briskly. "Some time."
With that the balrog-slayer quickly moved away and gave orders that surviving Orcs be slain and that wood be gathered so that the bodies of their foes might be burned. Other Elves gathered water to bathe their injuries and to scrub away the foulness of Orc blood. Erestor was badly in need of such a cleansing.
"You had better wash yourself, Erestor," observed Gandalf. "I have never seen an Elf so coated with blood, and I have seen a lot in my lifetime."
By then Erestor had recovered enough to notice the appearance of the wizard himself.
"And I," he chortled, "have never seen a wizard in a mauve robe—nor one with one shoe off and the other on. How came you to be clad in such a fashion—if fashion it is?"
Gandalf was saved from the necessity of replying by the drumbeat of approaching horses.
"Ah," he said, "that would be the cavalry riding to the rescue. I must say that they have made excellent time, far better than I expected!"
Up cantered the Imladris Elves. They were led by Elrond himself, who had decided to leave Berenmaethor in charge so that he might venture forth instead.
"Mae govannen," called Gandalf.
"Mae govannen?" replied Elrond. "Are you sure? Where is Estel?"
"Quite safe. In fact, here comes his guarantor right now."
Gandalf nodded toward the sky at a distant speck that was rapidly becoming larger.
"Really, Elrond," Gandalf continued dryly, "you really should try instant moth messaging sometime. Very effective means of communication."
"I will remember that the next time I have a message that absolutely, positively must be there the next day," replied Elrond, smiling now.
Gwaihir had landed now, and Gandalf and Elrond both bowed respectfully to the Wind Lord.
"Good-day to you," said the eagle. "This one wasn't so heavy, Gandalf. Only as tall as a Dwarf, but much skinnier in the frame."
"Well, well," replied Gandalf, "I am glad that you did not find him too burdensome.'
"Now what would you like me to do with him? Shall I bring him back here or to some other place?"
"Take him back to Rivendell straightaway!" exclaimed Elrond.
"Nay, Elrond," objected Gandalf. "Should he not rejoin the company?"
"In a sense, yes, for the whole company is to return to Imladris at once."
"Why is that, Elrond?'
"Surely you must see that it is too dangerous for them to continue."
"But I do not see that at all. Would you have the Elves withdraw within their scattered realms—Imladris, Lothlórien, and Mirkwood—and cede the lands between to your foes? Nay, not so! Middle-Earth is yours, and if you do not intend to make it so, you should journey forthwith to the Grey Havens!"
Elrond pondered.
"Very well, Mithrandir. The company shall continue onward. But the child must return to Rivendell."
Gandalf shook his head.
"Elrond, someday Estel must come to the throne of Gondor, and he cannot prepare to do so from within the walls of Rivendell. Ten is not overmuch young for a man-child to take up the duties of a warrior-in-training."
Elrond hesitated. Mithrandir had one last throw.
"If it will reassure you, Elrond, I myself shall journey on with the company. There. Will that do?"
Elrond broke into a smile.
"Very well, Mithrandir. Estel may rejoin his companions."
The Elf-lord turned to the Eagle Lord.
"If you would please, my friend, I should like you to bring Estel back here."
Gwaihir bowed gravely, but he could not resist joking a little.
"Certainly, my friend. I shall return shortly, flying as I do upon the wings of eagles!"
After Gwaihir had left, Gandalf shook his head and laughed.
"I am grateful for the day that I met that bird. He has pulled my fat out of the fire more than once.'
"And I suspect he shall have to do it again in the future," retorted Elrond. "For you this has been the millennium of living dangerously."
"For all of us," corrected the wizard.
"Aye. For all of us."