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NB Laer - July/August

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Estel felt himself beginning to panic and forcibly choked it down. He had heard many tales of orcs and the various tortures they inflicted on their victims. The man shivered as he remembered the stories and he feverishly began to retreat, hoping against hope that the foul creatures had not registered his presence. Full of youth's confidence though he was, Estel was sensible enough to realise that he had neither the training nor the weapons for a confrontation.

Everything would have been fine, Estel reflected later, if it had not been for that blasted pothole. Desperate to get away, not watching his steps carefully, the human inadvertently stepped in one of the dips that littered the ill-kept road, wrenching his ankle. The pain came unexpectedly and Estel could not stifle the strangulated oath that sprang to his lips.

He heard rather than saw the orcs' realisation that there was an intruder in their midst. Cursing his folly, the young man began to run as fast as he could. But his ankle throbbed, costing him speed; moreover, Estel had been walking all day and was tired, whereas the orcs were fresh from a day's sleep.

After a few strides it became apparent that the orcs could not be outrun. The only option left now was to fight. All very well in theory, but in practice Estel lacked his sword, the only weapon he truly felt confident and comfortable with. All he had was his bow and a small penknife that, while ideal for skinning rabbits or fletching arrows, was unlikely to offer much defence against a dozen orcs.

Impossible odds, therefore – less likely than a blizzard in Laer. Nevertheless, Estel was anything but a coward. If he were to be captured, at the very least he would not make it easy for his opponents.

With these defiant thoughts in mind, Estel turned to face his pursuers. His resolve faltered a little at the sight of half a dozen orcs coming towards him at a terrifying pace, but the man stood firm. Unslinging his bow and stringing an arrow as he had been taught, Estel took aim and let the arrow fly . . .

It went wide. Fumbling, Estel shot again and this time gave one of the beasts a glancing blow to the arm. The wound was not enough to slow the creature down though and the next arrow also missed its target by more than a foot.

Valar help me. The orcs were almost upon him now, too close to shoot. Desperate, Estel abandoned his bow and began to use his remaining arrows as spears. More by luck than judgement, he stabbed the nearest orc in the eye, felling the beast. But the orcs were too many and Estel's luck too thin. A crushing blow to the ribs winded the young man and he fell backwards, struggling to breathe. He had no defence when the club smashed into his head, rendering him unconscious.

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Legolas sat back on his heels a moment, trying to comprehend what it was he had felt. Estel in the hands of orcs? Surely that was impossible. Estel would not have gone beyond the borders and while Elladan's pointed comments about Imladris' safety were irksome, they were also true. The house of Elrond was known far and wide as an elven stronghold, as yet untouched by the darkness that grew in the deep forests. For orcs to be here was unthinkable.

Yet the prince did not doubt the information he had been given. The trees could not lie. Once again he reached out, striving to understand.

Fire, the Destroyers. With the man, the heavier footfalls. Where?

The tree's branches quivered, such was the strength of the elf's questions. Gone beyond . . . the power stops.

No. Connect; there are plants there. Feel them, share their thirst. Show me now.

A creaking sound came from the tree, loud enough to scare away a deer grazing nearby. To Legolas, it was inaudible. Show me!

Scrubs. Ferns. Hedges. Deep soil, cared for . . . then rocks, hard and unforgiving. Mountains and farms. The Destroyers had fire there, burning the plants. Many.

Legolas broke the connection gently, recognising the strain he had put the tree under. The great trunk sagged, if such a thing were possible, but the effect was only momentary – seconds later, it was as solid and upright as any trunk could ever be.

The prince breathed out and stood up. Or rather, he attempted to stand up. His legs seemed to be under the impression that they were made of stiff, inflexible wood and it took a minute or two to persuade them otherwise. Not only that, but Legolas was fighting a pressing urge to put down roots and not move for the next few centuries.

These after effects were the reason why wood elves generally preferred to rest for at least an hour after "talking" (if such it could be called) with the trees, but Legolas had no time to spare. Estel was already in the orcs' hands and there was no guarantee that they would not kill him instantly. If the man was to be rescued, Legolas must set off immediately.

The prince had not gone more than a couple of steps when he remembered the twins. Should he try and find them, let them know what was going on? He dismissed the idea from his mind. Those two jokers had dragged them all into this situation in the first place and time was not on Legolas' side. He decided to press on regardless and let the twins look after themselves.

In this judgement Legolas erred. Notwithstanding where the blame lay, to set off alone to confront an unknown number of orcs without letting anyone know was folly. But the prince's pride was strong and his faith in his abilities great; and so he headed to the mountains, to rescue a young man whom he did not even like overmuch. He left no sign of his destination, or of his reasons for going. To all intents and purposes, the prince had disappeared.

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Certainly it seemed to Elladan and Elrohir as though their guest had vanished, taking their younger brother with him. Estel had never arrived at the pre-arranged meeting place and eventually the twins decided that the human must have gone straight to the trap they had laid for Legolas.

Dusk was not far off when the two reached the hole, but there was no sign of either human or elf there. Elrohir turned to Elladan worriedly.

"Something's gone wrong."

Elladan bit his lower lip, a nervous habit he had had since childhood. "Don't jump to conclusions. Let's have a look round. After all, something's been here – the pit is exposed."

Elrohir shook his head stubbornly. "But not Legolas or Estel. Legolas would never be able to climb out on his own and if Estel had helped him, they would not have left the cushions down there."

Elladan peered a little further into the hole and admitted that his twin might have a point. The pink cushions, smuggled out by the twins while Estel kept his mother busy in the kitchen, placed there to break Legolas' fall, were still visible.

"Besides," Elrohir continued, "I cannot see any sign that Estel has been here. No footprints or anything like that."

"That doesn't prove anything," countered Elladan. "You know as well as I do that Estel covers his tracks almost instinctively. He has a natural talent for it."

Elrohir crossed his arms. "Elladan, something has gone wrong. I can feel it."

The younger twin had inherited a little of his father's foresight and his 'feelings', as he called them, were rarely wrong. Elladan sighed.

"Let's at least search this area. Then we will retrace Estel's steps. He can't have gone too far."

Elrohir nodded, but the unease did not leave him. Something had gone badly awry and he feared for his little brother.

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Legolas came to a halt at the border. Why on Middle-Earth would Estel leave Imladris and do so alone? Maybe the elf had misunderstood, or this was just another joke concocted by the three brothers.

No. Legolas knew it in his heart, even without the knowledge gained from the trees. Estel was in some sort of trouble and he needed help.

The red sun was setting as Legolas walked out of Imladris.

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"He definitely came this way. Look, there's a faint footprint, just there."

Elladan squinted. "I can only just see it. Elrohir, we're losing the light." He sighed, worry eating at his heart. "There are no other marks. Legolas did not follow him here."

Elrohir's eyes were shadowed. "Then Estel is out there alone – and you remember what Legolas said about his journey. That there were more goblins in the mountains than usual, intent on waylaying unwary travellers."

"And that he would not have been surprised to see orcs or wargs about. I remember." Elladan rose abruptly, his face set determinedly. "We need to find Estel, before he runs into trouble."

"We can't find him, not on a moonless night like tonight. We'll never see the tracks." Elrohir knew how his older brother felt, but one of the two had to be realistic. "We would be better advised to go home, raise a proper search party and come back in the morning, when our chances will be that much higher."

Elladan closed his eyes, reaching for Elrohir's steady calmness. He took a deep breath and forced his tense body to relax. He opened his eyes. "Then let us hurry. I will not leave Estel out there any longer than necessary."

Elrohir grasped his brother's hand. "We won't, Elladan. We won't."

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The constant motion was making Estel feel extremely sick. He had come round some time ago, to find himself being carried through the night by one of the orcs. His wrists and ankles had been bound and his mouth had been gagged with an evil-smelling cloth.

Estel could feel the fear growing in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, where they were headed or what the orcs would do once they got there. Not only that, but another unpleasant thought was needling him – no one knew where the young man was. He had left no message and doubted that any discernible tracks would have been left on the dry ground.

The loneliness was overwhelming. Estel was on his own.

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It had taken Legolas over two hours to find the orcs' campsite. Even in the dark, it was clear that the group had left hurriedly. As if any further proof as to Estel's whereabouts was needed, an orc corpse had been lying on the ground, about a quarter of a mile from the campsite. An arrow easily recognisable as of Imladris make had been sticking out of its eye, making a gruesome tableau.

So the orcs had gone, taking Estel with them. Still, Legolas felt hopeful. The creatures would not bother to cart a dead body around, which indicated that the human was still alive. Though for how much longer was not something that the prince wanted to speculate.

The stench that the beasts had left behind was overpowering and the elf grimaced. From now on there would be no need to examine the ground – all he need do was follow his nose. Even so, Legolas would be hard pushed to catch up before dawn at the earliest – orcs moved quickly when they wanted to and the prince had no doubt that they would be doing so now.

Adjusting his bow on his shoulders, Legolas broke into a light run, following the stink up the mountain path. He sent up a prayer to any listening Vala that he would not be too late.

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"You are still up."

Gilraen jumped, skewering her finger with the sewing needle. "Lord Elrond! I did not see you there."

Elrond smiled, moving round to stoke the dying embers of the library fire. "Do not get up. I am sorry; I did not mean to startle you. I did not expect to find you still here. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Gilraen hesitated, unwilling to reveal the true reason why she was still sitting in the library – the room closest to the entrance hall. It was impossible to keep a secret from Elrond though and eventually she blurted it out. "By all the Valar, they should be back by now! It's long after dark." She knew she was being overprotective, knew that the four were perfectly safe in Imladris . . . but she still worried. After Arathorn's death, Estel was all she had. If anything were to happen – well, it did not bear thinking about.

Elrond, as so often, appeared to be reading her mind. "I would not worry. You know what those three are like. In all probability they simply lost track of the time. They will be back soon."

Gilraen nodded, reassured by Elrond's words. She felt foolish to be so anxious, but Arathorn had just walked out one day and never came back . . . No. She would not think of such things. Picking up her embroidery again, Gilraen forced her mind onto new tracks.

"I just hope they come back friends. I don't understand this animosity that exists between our three and the prince."

She was shocked to see her companion redden slightly. "Lord Elrond?"

The elf lord cleared his throat. "As far as that goes, I confess that I am not entirely blameless. Thranduil has decidedly traditional views on humans and their place in elven society. Naturally I, a half-mortal, have never been a particular friend of his and I fear that I may have been somewhat . . . uncomplimentary about the king in the twins' presence."

Gilraen laughed. "That is all? They don't get on because Thranduil looks down on you? Honestly, sometimes I think -"

She was interrupted by the noise of the front door opening. Relief swept over her. Putting aside her needlework, Gilraen rose to meet her son . . . but he was not there. Only the twins had returned and their expressions were anything but comforting.

"Elladan? Elrohir? What's happened? Where's Estel, why isn't he here with you?" Gilraen asked, feeling dread creep over her. She had been right to worry, something had happened and Estel had not come back, just like his father . . . she began to panic.

Elrond stepped in front of Gilraen and grasped her arms. "Gilraen, calm down. Give the twins a chance to answer." Once he was sure the woman had control over herself, he turned to his sons. "Well?"

Elladan met his father's gaze nervously. "Ada, we do not know where Estel is. We became separated. We think he crossed the eastern borders, but it was too dark to follow – there is no moon tonight."

Concern darkened Elrond's eyes. "Crossed the borders? Why? And where is Legolas?"

"We do not know," Elrohir replied. "As Elladan said, we were separated. We did not realise what had happened until dusk."

Gilraen pushed Elrond aside, abandoning her usual politeness. "Why not? What did you think you were playing at, leaving Estel alone? He's still only young, for pity's sake! What on Middle-Earth possessed you?"

"Gilraen, hush!" Elrond understood the mother's anxiety, but it would help no one.

"We split into two pairs – us and Estel and Legolas. After that, we do not know what happened," said Elladan, truthfully if not quite honestly.

"All right. Elrohir, go and find Glorfindel. We will form a search party and you can take us to where you think Estel crossed the border. It will be light by the time we get there. Elladan, go and prepare the horses – we will move more quickly that way."

The twins nodded and hurried off to their respective tasks. Elrond held Gilraen close, trying to calm her.

"We will find him, Gilraen. I promise."

The woman looked up, her eyes pleading. Elrohir was not the only one to remember Legolas' description of the mountains. "Please, Elrond . . . I cannot go through it again. Please, my heart will not stand it. Promise me he will be safe."

Elrond said nothing. It was a promise he could not make.

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