Here we go again, one last chapter before Christmas. I would like to take the opportunity and thank everybody who´s been reading my stories this year - it has been great fun to write and I sure will continue! MERRY CHRISTMAS to all of you out there who celebrate it - have the best of times.
Thanks for you numerous reviews - I did not realize how many there were this time before I started to reply to them, lol. You guys are great!!
Also, thanks again to San for her faithful editing ((hugs)).
Now read and enjoy.
Alina
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Trust and Doubt
So much darkness to be found in light!
Erestor could not help but marvel at the fact, albeit worriedly so, as he wiped the driving snow out of his eyes, straining to see clearly. Having taken a short rest a while ago, the intensity of the storm had flared up again, shrouding them all in a white coat that blocked the light which should have guided their path. As it was, not his sight had alerted the advisor to the change around them, but an instinct honed in years of travelling dangerous grounds.
They had come upon something, even though neither he nor the warriors at his side could detect it just yet. Still, Erestor trusted the strong feeling that the world was not as it should be. "Be wary", he warned under his breath, "the snow does not rest calmly in this place." Keeping his horse steady, his sought the source of his irritation until it unveiled itself right before his eyes.
The storm howled out an anguished cry that drove a cloud of snow off the ground, and beneath it, color shone through. Dark red. Dismounting quickly, Erestor's foot shoved more of the swirling white away to reveal the body of a dead human. Looking around, he detected several low mounts around him that spoke of a similar secret. Following his unspoken request, the other elves began to reveal the grisly sight that had so quickly been buried.
Erestor had no doubt what had killed the man that lay before him when he came upon the wooden shafts that produced from the corpse's back. One glance at the arrows´ fledges proved correct what he had suspected immediately.
"This man was shot by Prince Legolas", he announced, "even though his aim must have been marred, for it took him several arrows."
"This raider bears similar wounds", an elven warrior spoke up from his position next to another corpse, and a general murmur of agreement arose among them. Only one elf remained silent, intensely inspecting the arm of a third dead body before him before running a finger across its throat.
Feeling the others´ eyes upon him, the kneeling warrior looked up through the driving white curtain that separated them. "Not this one. His throat was pierced by a dagger that was then removed." Erestor nodded. These findings suited his own, for he had found wounds that arrows had been retrieved from. Legolas must have run out of arrows during the fight. The advisor was startled though, when the elf continued: "This raider also carries other wounds, including a stab in his arm that was caused by a very small dagger."
Silence fell and there was no need to say what they all had realized. Estel must have been involved in the fight that had taken place here.
Erestor rose, anger streaming through him like molten iron. He could not even begin to fathom what a sight such as this must have done to the tender child's heart. He pushed away the guilt that threatened to engulf him, knowing well that now was not the time to dwell in it. He mounted his steed quickly. Looking around, he saw that the other elves had done likewise, but now their eyes rested upon him as if waiting for his actions.
The blinding, cold darkness seemed to deepen and close in, laughingly hiding what they so desperately needed to know. There were no traceable tracks from here, and they all knew it.
Raising his head, Erestor stared into the dancing flakes. He willed his gaze to penetrate them and travel farther, beyond what his sight could retrieve and into the depth of the truth beneath. Both human boy and elven warrior had travelled this way, and whilst the snow had covered any physical sign of their presence, the ground still resonated faintly with their worry and pain.
The more closely Erestor could feel it, the clearer a quivering could be seen in the air, a slight trembling that spoke of the harsh journey the two young ones had taken.
Brow furrowed in concentration, Erestor slowly guided his horse along the elusive path only he could see, and the others followed without a word. In the back of his mind, the advisor's impatience screamed out at him to pick up his pace, but he knew that the slightest slip of concentration would break the fragile bond he had created.
With agonizing slowness, the small group fought its way across the snow-swept plain
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The light formed a path within the snow at Estel´s feet, and he followed it so eagerly that he even passed the massive man that had trudged along in front of him. The dark dog never leaving his side, the boy hurried towards the promise of warmth that seemed to make the cold all the crueler all of a sudden.
When he had almost reached the house, a figure moved behind one of the windows and then a gust of smoky smell and light engulfed him as the door was thrown open. Outlined by the flickering firelight within, the stout figure of a woman stood with her hands firmly upon her hips. Her whole posture spoke of subdued anger, and her voice cut through the wind like a sharpened axe.
"What were you thinking, husband, to give me such a scare and then expect me..." Estel had rushed on, paying no heed to the harshness of the voice or indeed its very presence, but he could not help notice being swept off his feet and into a strong embrace. The voice that could have felled trees a heartbeat ago now spoke up again, as soft and comforting as a warm blanket.
"Now, now, what have we got here? Poor darling, all cold and alone and - Beakon, don´t you dare touch that meat!" Estel flinched at this next sudden change of tone but then nothing else seemed to matter but the blessed heat that he was carried into. Blinking his eyes, he took in the sight of the huge dog shying away from the roasted meat that rested upon four plates neatly laid out on a sturdy table.
The room was filled with the smell of foot and fire. The boy followed Beakon with his eyes when the dog trotted across to the fireplace and allowed himself to fall unceremoniously to its stomach before it. The great beast gave a satisfied grunt and closed its eyes, all demeanours of danger and meanness gone.
A chair was being dragged across the floor and placed before the flames, too, and Estel found himself being gently lowered onto it. "Now, little one, isn´t that better? Let me fetch you a blanket and we´ll have you all nice and warm in no time."
Estel glanced in tired wonder at the woman before him. Her rounded face bore so many wrinkles around her eyes that she must have been at least a hundred summers old, yet the rest of her skin was too smooth for that. She was portly built, but much more softly so than the strong-bellied merchants the boy had sometimes encountered in Imladris. Her eyes sparkled with merry strength, and her feet sounded loudly upon the wooden floor when she hurried away through another door.
"Thank you, wife, for welcoming me home, too", came a grumble from the door as Bowder made his way in, stepping sideways carefully to avoid hitting Legolas´ head against the door-frame. "I see that you allow the dog to be comfortable before I am even inside the house. Now at least be so kind and hold the door to our sleeping chamber open for me."
"Pah!" came the reply out of the other room, "You have found your way outside alone, now you shall come back in by yourself, too. You are lucky I have not bolted the door into your face..." She suddenly faltered, and Estel turned to see her stand in front of her husband, staring at the unconscious elf in his arms. She recovered quickly, though, making way and ushering her husband in, muttering under her breath.
Even though his teeth started to chatter and a leaden exhaustion spread through his limbs, Estel stumbled to his feet and anxiously followed the couple. His heart beat into his throat with guilt, for in his happiness to get warm, he had all but forgotten about the elf's injuries. Hardly noticing that Beakon had raised his massive frame off the floor also, he rounded the corner to find Bowder sitting beside Legolas on the bed that filled the room, a dagger in his hands.
Both humans turned to the boy as he entered, and the woman immediately stopped stacking the fire and hurried towards him. "This is not the place for you, little one", she said gently and tried to take the child´s hand, but Estel nimbly avoided her and clambered onto the bed at Legolas´ side, his eyes trained onto the dagger, then on the man. Bowder met the gaze that was directed at him and quietly explained: "I need to cut away the clothes to see to the wound. Do not worry. I will not harm him any further."
Estel nodded, having seen his father do the same, and settled down to watch. He noticed that fresh blood seeped onto the bed even as Bowder worked, and sleepily wondered what the man's strong wife would have to say about that. The heaviness in his limbs grew again, and even though he fought it valiantly, there was no winning this battle this time. With a sigh the boy sank onto the covers, curling up into a shivering ball.
Bowder kept one eye on him even as he pressed a cloth onto the elf's wound to staunch the bleeding, and when he heard heavy footsteps enter the house's main room, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. This would have been a bad night to spend with his wife alone, for he needed help tending to the elf and the boy needed to be looked after also.
"Bethran", he called for his wife who had left to recover more cloth and heat some water, "come and take the child. I cannot have him in the way." He did not add that the child needed comfort, too, even though asleep, for he knew the woman would provide it without his asking. Sure enough, Bethran returned swiftly, and her gaze softened when she took in the shaking child. Wrapping him into a blanket, she lifted him into her arms and rocked him, trying to ease the shivering.
"I think my husband could use your help", she said, directing her words into the main room, "as I will have to see to this poor child."
She stepped back, allowing two men to walk into the bedroom. They had sought shelter with them earlier that day, having barely survived the first bout of the storm in a camp nearby. Both were lean in built, and there was no mistaking the likeness of their features, even though several years separated them.
"It seems that this dreadful weather has not only interrupted your hunting", the woman said, trying to sound light, "I wonder who else the snow will blow through our doors."
"I hope it will be a dwarf who might then camp out in the stable with the horses", the older man grumbled. There was a deep frown on his face when he looked down onto the elf, and when he spoke again, his voice was harsh. "Why do you bother with one of them, Bowder? They are immortal anyway, so why waste your energy? You could have left him in the snow and spared your wife a bad scare. She wanted us to look for you when the storm started again; we were just readying the horses."
Bowder glanced up, his face calm but his eyes alight. "There is a difference between old age and injury, and only one of them bears no danger to the elves", he replied, "and you should well know that, Marhen. Besides, it is I who decide who may seek refuge in this house, and I am willing to share it with any creature in need."
The older man grunted and turned, stomping back into the main room. He could be heard settling into one of the chairs. Bethran sought her husband's eyes and he shrugged ever so slightly, advising her against any comments. She nodded and followed Marhen to make the child comfortable in front of the fire, leaving her husband to his work. She had hardly left the bedroom though, when the boy began to stir in her arms, squirming unhappily. With a sigh she started to pace the room in an attempt to calm him. At the table, Marhen had begun to eat.
Bowder grimly concentrated on his own task. The flow of blood had begun to cease, but the glimpse he had gotten at the injury earlier left no doubt that he would need to stitch the wound to seal it. The task would not be an easy one. Glancing up, he saw that Marhen´s son Slawn still stood by the foot of the bed, his face showing deep thought.
Truth be told, Bowder had never had a great liking for Marhen, whom he knew to live in a village to the east, and he expected little help from the younger man when he reached for another piece of cloth. To his surprise, Slawn picked it up faster and handed it to him. The look in the young man's eyes was hard to read, but he bowed his head in apology.
"Forgive my father", he said, "he is not fond of what he does not know. Knowledge, however, may prove the greatest profit. I will help you tend to the elf." Bowder frowned at the strange explanation, but he gladly accepted the help. He knew of the strength of elves and he was grateful for a man to hold the wounded creature down when he stitched the wound.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Estel drifted somewhere between worlds - between dark and light, between cold and warmth. He could feel arms that were wrapped around him and heard a voice sing to him, but it was not what it should have been. This was not his ada singing to him, nor his brothers, for the voice sounded rough to him and failed to calm his anxiety.
His awareness never sank down far enough to completely block out sounds that reached him, and then there was the howling of the storm that mingled with agonized screams. Rough arguing seemed to rage around him, and he curled in on himself in an attempt to find peace. Then something soft yet breathing was placed beneath his head and a steady beat filled his ears. Finally relaxing, the child was dimly aware of a hand that soothed across his forehead and a female voice whispering to him. Letting go of his fears, Estel allowed peace to find his heart and dreams to ease his mind.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Bethran stood over the sleeping boy, gazing down on him wearily. She was relieved to see the child´s pale features free of strain now, after hours of restless twisting and turning. He lay wrapped in blankets beside the fireplace in the bedroom, his black curls mingling with Beakon´s equally dark fur.
The dog lay still as the boy's head rested against his side. His eyes were fixed upon the child in a display of watchfulness that amused the woman and warmed her heart. She looked across to the elf and sighed. The immortal's skin looked almost white even in the light of the fire, and his breathing was so low she could hardly detect it. It was no wonder that the little one had been unable to find his peace with his elven companion screaming in pain.
The fight between Marhen and Slawn had not helped either, the father so upset with his son for helping an elf that Bowder had barely been able to prevent fists being used. Only the threat of being thrown out into the storm had cooled the heated minds, and now sleep had thankfully claimed father and son. Bethran looked forward to seeing them leave her home as quickly as possible.
"How is he, love?" Bowder had silently walked up behind his wife and draped a supporting arm around her waist. The woman leaned back into him thankfully. "Better now", she answered quietly, "you were right to suggest that the presence of Beakon and the elf would soothe him. Poor little thing. I wonder what has befallen him? And how did he come to travel with an elf?"
Bowder sighed, his own weariness finally showing. "We will have to wait for them to wake, my love. But do not worry. All shall be well now, and the new day will see the world brighten again."
Bethran nodded, calmed by her husband's confidence, and they resumed to stand before the fireplace, taking solace in each other's company.
In the other room, however, one mind was not resting. It was gleefully planning, twisting and turning a plot that would surely fill greedy pockets with gold. Hoping for the end of the snow, the man smiled to himself, knowing that soon a storm of another kind would strike the small house in the woods.
TBC
Review responses:
Quinlan Ramsey: I´m very happy you like my characterization of Legolas and Estel. And yes, Bowder might prove very interesting...
Mellaithwen: LOL! You are right! I never thought about it before, but yes - he does seem a bit like Hargid (but there are no monsters hidden in his house, hehe).
Aqarendis: Hi! Glad you liked "The Beckoning". And thanks for the congrats :) Estel is about 6 in this story - I hope you continue to enjoy.
Astalder 27: Hehe - here we go, the elf NOT awake again, but that will change in the next chapter.
Soul of the Evenstar: Thank you blushes Hehe, sorry the wait was a bit longer this time, but Christmas season is busy.
Eliteschwein: Thanks - and yes, there is more danger... veg
Aranna Undomiel: Are they safe? Hmmm...we´ll see about that :) Glad you liked the dog - and I thought it appropriate for a warrior to be woken by an arrow so close, lol.
Kylaa: Estel sure IS a big help :)
Carawen: Hehe, nope, no warg (yet?)... And you are quite right about Legolas ;-)
Nightshadow131: Thanks! And yes, Legolas waking because of the arrow made sense to me. He´s a warrior and that sound alarmed him.
Deana: Lol, you are a bit paranoid, aren´t you? And you might be right...
Harry Estel: You are right about Legolas, though I´m sure he survived partially BECAUSE he´s so stubborn, lol.
Red Tigress: Hehe, I know what you mean! I promise, no "elephants" in my story, there sure are enough dangers around.
Elvingirl 3737: Oh, Estel might want the nice coat, don´t return it! Thanks, I´m happy you liked it :)
THANKK YOU ((HUGS))