Chapter 6

The little boy had given up all screaming.

He had given up trying to call for help, he had given up on crying for every effort of making a sound was too much for him, and help did not come anyway.
He just lay there waiting while they beat him, until the orcs would give up their torture or death would release him from his pain.

Hidden between the trees the elf watched the orcs on the other side of the bridge. He cursed them for being there, for destroying the peace of this sanctuary and standing between him and his home.
He put a hand on the wound on his chest and shivered. They had told him he was not fully healed yet, not of body, not of mind. But he had not expected to feel this fear.

The group of orcs wasn't even that big.

He had always been the first to charge orcs, who laughed at the face of danger, but now he was shivering at the sight of merely thirty orcs. If anyone had told him that he, an elf, would be afraid of dying one day he would have laughed them in the face, but he was. Having a sword imbedded in his chest had changed him more than he thought.

Silently, while watching the orcs, he made a deal with himself. He would sneak past these orcs now even though they had invaded his lands, he would not fight them, he would give in to his fears. But this would be the only time he did.

It disturbed him that he, who had been one of Imladris main protectors could make a decision like this so easily, but more than that he felt relieved. It was as if a heavy stone was lifted off of his heart when he had decided he needed not be brave.

That was when he spotted the child.

There was something happening at the edge of the orc-camp, Estel could tell. There had been shouts first, and orcs running around. The blows on his back had become less frequent, and the orcs no longer seemed to enjoy the torturing as much as they had done before.

They kept glancing over their backs, as if they were nervous, or maybe even scared.

Estel stopped shivering. The restless shifting of the orcs, the screams of pain that weren't his had brought something back that seemed to have left him before: Hope.

And with hope came strength and willpower, and not long after that the young boy found his voice.

"HELP! I'M HERE! HELP ME!"

He had the chance to scream three times before the orc-club connected with his head and the world went black.

"Wake up, little one."

It was a soft voice that penetrated the darkness, a voice Estel did not recognize though it was definitely an elf speaking.
"Wake up, small one... I want to turn you onto your stomach, but I need to know if you might have broken something first. Please wake up."

Estel slowly opened his eyes.

"That is it." The voice spoke. "Very well done."

Estel blinked and slowly his mind started to process the things happening around him. He could see there were dead orcs lying all around him, mostly with arrows imbedded in their chests.
"You don't need to worry about them, young one. None of them will harm you." Estel looked up to the one that had spoken, and somewhere, from deep down he found the strength to smile at his saviour.

He recognized his face; he had seen it many times before though he had never seen it smile.
It was his Valar, his stone elf, who had come to save him after all.

Every time the stone elf turned his back on the boy, Estel's eyes were on his back following him around but when the elfturned and smiled the boy quickly looked away, as if he had not been looking at all.

It was strange to see the motionless elf moving around like this, to see the elf that had always been fed by his father create a small fire, and cook his own meal, to feel the elf that had been unable to take care of himself clean the wounds on his back.

"I think you will be alright, little one." The elf said, after he had finished. "Your wounds will heal." Though the boy was sure his Ada could have done it faster his wounds felt much better now, and the touch of the stone-elf's shirt that the elf had wrapped around his shoulders did not hurt as much anymore.

"What about those?" The boy said, and he pointed at the large wounds on the elf's chest and back, wounds that had been visible the moment the elf had pulled off his shirt to give Estel its warmth.

The boy remembered his father had said the stone elf was dying, and the wounds looked that bad, almost as if a sword had been stuck right trough his heart.

"Those?" the elf answered, nodding at his wounds. He shook his head. "Those are old wounds. They might even be older than you." he added with a smile and then he helped himself to a drink, as if he told all there was to know about him, and discussion was now over,

"Why have they not healed then?" Estel would not be distracted. He knew too much about elves and healing to not know that elven-wounds did not stay visible and definitely not bleeding for years. Especially not longer than he had lived.

'I have not had the time to heal them yet, small friend. I was busy elsewhere." The elf sad with a smile, and though the boy did not understand what the stone elf had just told him, the boy could see the older one was not smiling with his eyes.
"But…" the child protested, but the elf shook his head and the child could see on the elf's face he would not get anymore answers out of him.

"Enough about me." The elf decided. "Now about you. What is your name, little one? And what is a small human such as yourself doing out here all by yourself? Where is your mother?" The elf was smiling at him again as he took another sip from his drink.

"Nana is home." Estel pointed in the general direction of Imladris. "with Ada Elrond."

When Estel looked at the elf again, it seemed the stone elf had turned into stone again. His eyes were staring unblinkingly at Estel, the water-skin hung forgotten in his hand somewhere halfway to his mouth.

The small boy shifted restlessly, not knowing what to do.

But then the elf blinked, and shook his head lightly.

"I'm sorry, did you just say… I mean… did you…Ada Elrond?"