Ch. 4 Heat, Hammer, Quench

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Since Estel had found the perfect tree at the top of the cliff, the plan he had for the next day was simple: go up the cliff, throw a rope around the tree, come back down and pull the elf up. Nothing to it.

At dawn he began the first climb. It went much faster than the day before as he knew which path to take. He tossed the rope around the tree and began the climb down.

An hour later, Estel finished the last knot while Legolas complained at the tightness of his bindings. "I have no circulation! You had better get me up there quickly or my leg will have three friends!"

"For someone who is dying you have a great deal to say!"

Worried about the arduous trial to come, Estel tested each knot once more. He had allowed Legolas' arms some freedom since the elf would have to fend himself off the cliff wall at times, but the torso and legs were securely bound to the litter. Estel had debated endlessly with himself about the best position for the elf and finally bound him partially twisted. Legolas' shoulders were flat against the litter but his hips turned sideways with both knees bent and tied snugly together. Over the top of all, vine rope wound around and around until very little of the elf's clothing could be seen.

Satisfied with his rope work, the man pulled the litter upright against the cliff. He tied the running end of the cliff rope to the top of the litter, tested the knot again and again, and then looked at his friend and taunted, "Have you ever wanted to fly, elf?" He laughed at the expression that flared in the blue eyes that met his. It was the most emotion he had seen since the elf had told him he would fade.

Estel hurried up the now familiar cliff. He grasped the rope as it came around the tree and hauled with all his might. He offered thanks to Illuvitar that elves weighed less than men. He doubted he could have raised a man, no matter how strong his will. At the bottom of the cliff the litter quivered, the top came away from the wall and then the whole thing lifted off the ground and swung dizzily. Legolas found that he was not so far along the road to The Halls of Waiting as he had thought as he alternately prayed to Elbereth and swore at the young man above him. His hands gripped the litter sides with knuckles stark white and straining at the skin that covered them. Estel repelled down until he was next to his friend. He did not bother to ask, "Are you all right?" No one could be all right in this situation.

"Here is what we will do. I will pull you up a way, until you get stuck. Then I will get you loose and pull some more. We keep doing that until we reach the top. Simple." Estel braced his feet in deep cracks and began to pull on the rope. The litter swayed and creaked upward. When it jammed on an outcropping, Estel climbed the rope to reach his friend and to pull the litter away from the wall. He had to be careful to keep his weight on the rope at all times, as he was the counterweight to the litter. His arms and shoulders began to ache and they were only a few feet off the ground. He had discarded the leather coverings for his hands. He would take no chance on the rope slipping through his grip. Bit by bit they inched their way up. Within an hour Estel was groaning from tiredness and the strain on his body. Legolas had screamed once, shockingly loud, when the litter had spun and his wounded leg hit the rocks.

One third of the way up there was a small ledge. Estel wrapped the rope around a jutting rock fragment and leaned his head against the cliff wall. His breath was not just ragged, it was a knife in his chest. His hands hung limply from his knees and blood dripped onto the stone beneath them. Legolas, propped so very precariously against the cliff wall, looked with pity upon the human.

After a long time, Estel raised his head and said, "I am ready to go on." He unwrapped the rope, put his weight on it again, braced his feet, and heaved. The fragile litter shivered and moved upward, bumping and scraping along the wall. The elf clamped his lips tightly together; there would be no more screams.

It took nearly all day to reach the top. There were many pauses for Estel to rest. There were many times when the litter jammed so tightly that Estel despaired of ever getting it free. When he finally pulled the litter over the edge onto the grass, Estel fell to earth and did not move. Legolas strained against his bonds but of course could not get loose; he could not help the boy. When an hour went by and the boy still had not moved, Legolas did the only he thing he could think of. "Estel, help me. I need help, please!"

There was still no movement for long seconds, then the dark head slowly rose. "Legolas?" His voice was a hoarse whisper. He pulled himself along the ground and began to pluck weakly at the vines confining his friend.

"Estel." The elf said gently. "Your knife."

"Oh…knife." He pulled his dagger and awkwardly cut his friend's arms completely free. Then the blade slipped from his hand and his head hit the ground again. Legolas managed to reach the knife and continued freeing himself. He sighed, looking at the exhausted boy. /I will fade later. Now I must take care of this stubborn child./ He crawled off the litter and pulled bandages from inside the boy's tunic where they had been stored for the climb. He dressed the hands that would be scarred for life. He then laid his head next to Estel and they spent the next few hours lying there together, each trying to recruit enough strength to help the other.

When the moon was high in the sky, Estel slowly sat up. His body creaked and complained bitterly at the movement. He touched the throat of the elf next to him and gave a relieved sigh.

The pulse still beat firmly against his fingertips. He looked about with a pleased expression. He had done it! Although he hoped he never saw another cliff in his entire lifetime.

He struggled to his knees and began to tend the elf. He pulled the few medical supplies they had left from the places he had stowed them on his body. The elf gave no sign of returning consciousness. Estel unwrapped the wound and his heart sank. The elf must be fading indeed, for he saw no indication of the vaunted healing powers. The torn flesh stank and the swelling was worse each time he dressed it. He needed water to cleanse it and their lone waterskin had been emptied by the time they were half-way up the cliff. They would have to move on without waiting for morning.

Estel's bandaged hands had great difficulty braiding wide flat straps from the rope that had pulled the litter up the cliff. He finally got them finished and attached them to the litter. They would loop around each of his shoulders. In a fog of exhaustion he carried the elf back to his horrible home and put their pathetically few belongings on it with him He wrapped their two cloaks—what remained of them—around the elf and hoisted the end of the litter off the ground. He worked his arms into the straps and leaned into them. They held and the litter began to move.

If the cliff was a challenge, Estel now began an ordeal that would try his soul. Within an hour the straps had rubbed his shoulders raw and the effort of pulling the litter was greater than he could have imagined. It was now at too high an angle for the best traveling and got hung up on the slightest obstruction. Estel would lean back to get some slack and then hit the straps hard, trying to heave the cursed thing free. Again and again. On through the rest of the night. He no longer knew which direction they went, only instinct kept him headed toward Imladris. He repeatedly fell to his knees, sobbing in pain and weakness, only to rise again and keep trudging on. His world had narrowed to himself, the litter, and the ground before his feet. He found a stream by stumbling down the bank into it. The cold, spring-fed water brought him to full awareness for the first time since reaching the top of the cliff. He was on hands and knees in the water with the litter kept dry by his back. He lowered his face, then his entire head, into the water that was at the level of his elbows. He drank deeply and then shook flying droplets from his hair like a dog. He got again to his feet and sidled to the side of the wide stream, the litter scrunching through the gravel of the streambed. He unharnessed himself and laid the litter down. He made a cup for Legolas by folding a large leaf that hung from a bush by the streamside. He took the elf's face in his hands and begged him to return to consciousness. When Legolas did not respond, he tapped one cheek sharply. The eyes opened and Estel saw recognition but received no other response. The water the boy offered returned to the stream by way of the elf's chin. He would not open his mouth. Estel whispered fiercely, "Ada told me that when I was dying you cried that you would go to The Halls of Waiting and hail me forth. Do you think I will do less for you? Fade if you insist, but look for no rest there! Neither Namo nor you will know a moment's peace!"

The boy climbed to his feet and looked at the wide, shallow stream. If the previous hours' travel were any indication, he would fall about fifty times in the crossing of it. Whether on the litter or in his arms, the elf would be sure to be soaked. He turned back to Legolas and began stripping him. When he was finished he looked in despair at the long, pale body. He might as well be tending a man; there was no glow at all that he could see. The flesh had gone past cool to clammy coldness. He stood again, resolutely. He had little time. He scrambled over the slippery rocks, carrying their cloaks and the elf's clothing to the other side. He returned and hefted the top of the litter to his back. He would use his hands instead of the straps to try to keep from tipping the elf into the water. He failed. Legolas was flipped into the cold water after a particularly hard jerk on the litter. As it had for Estel, the shock brought the elf to full consciousness. Sputtering and choking, he complained while Estel heaved him by the shoulders back onto his soaking bed.

"Are you trying to drown me? Is it not enough that I - "

"You should have drunk when I asked; I always get my way. You have had a nice drink now!"

The elf started to protest further but stopped abruptly. After a short pause he spoke again, hesitantly.

"Estel?"

"Yes."

"Why am I naked?"

"What?"

"Why am I naked?"

Estel stood over the elf. He looked up at the stars. He looked at the woods at the other side of the stream, at the splinted leg that was visibly swollen, at his hands, and, in his imagination, the leagues that still stood between them and succor. He looked again at the naked elf. He chuckled. He stopped himself in shock. He chuckled again. Then he began to laugh. To howl with laughter, tears running down his cheeks, gasping to get his breath. He braced his hands on his knees and laughed and laughed and laughed. Legolas, appalled and a little frightened, raised himself up and slapped the boy with all the strength he had left. The laughter stopped short.

"Ow! Why did you do that!"

"It is what you do when someone is hysterical."

"Who told you that!"

"Erestor. He said he has often used it with elleth."

"Ah! Well, that explains why he is not bound."

"I still do not know why I am naked, Estel."

"Because I am having such a good time tramping through the woods with you that I thought I would express my high spirits with a prank, you purblind maypole!"

"Oh."

"Hold on; I have to get us out of here." The boy hauled and pulled and jerked and fell until they were safely on the other side. He snatched at the clothes and tied them to the litter. He once again unfastened the splints and cleaned the wound. It was no worse. Was that a good sign or a bad one? Legolas no longer seemed to feel the pain of it and that must surely be a very bad sign. He dressed the wound with the last bandage he had.

He went to the front of the litter and raised it. Pain knifed into his arms and shoulders. He shrugged back into his harness and started dragging the litter again, moving into the forest. The elf questioned him from his platform. "Do I get my clothes back soon, Estel?"

"When you and the litter are dry. I have not time nor material to dry you myself so the wind will have to take care of it for me."

"I will be cold."

"You are already cold."

"Ah."

The elf subsided into his lassitude and after a time, again into unconsciousness. Estel plowed grimly on. At least he was alert again and relieved to see that he was still headed for home. By the end of the next day they would run into border patrols even if they were not spotted by search parties or falcons. Only twelve hours and they would have help. Only twelve. Or more if luck went against them.

When the elf was dry Estel stopped and dressed him and covered him with the cloaks again. When he straightened from his task such dizziness struck him that he had to sit down quickly next to the litter. He waited several minutes, his head resting close to Legolas'. It felt so wonderful to rest. He was so tired. Tired beyond any imagining. Tired and wracked with pain from so many sources, each clamoring to be first in his attention. And then there was the fear. The fear that ate at him every step of the way. What the hell did he think he was doing? He was fifteen years old and trying to save the life of one of the Firstborn. Who did not want to be saved. He had so little skill, was still so untrained and untried as a healer. He was no strong warrior, no wise sage. The Valar had chosen their tool poorly indeed if they expected the prince to live.

Estel began to tremble. At first it was nothing more than he had endured from time to time during this entire unending journey. But then the trembles changed into something far worse. His outraged muscles began to cramp. All of them. At one time. His body bent backward like a hoop as he was held in an iron fist of agony. The cords in neck, wrists, and ankles stood out, starkly outlined under stretched skin. He could pull in only the smallest amount of air and the only sound he could make (though screams were what the pain demanded) was a low, grinding groan, like two ancient millstones moving against each other.

"Estel…Estel, what is it, what is wrong?" The elf had paused in his descent into oblivion at the sounds of need from the only one who could still force his attention. The boy had a claim on him; he would do what he could, little though that would be.

After a seeming eternity the cramp began to ease. The elf reached a hand, very slowly, and grasped the boy's fingers. Estel returned the clasp, and clung desperately as the pain finally subsided. He was left so weak that an Orc could have munched on his foot and he would have been unable to stop it.

The elf gathered his strength and tried again to make Estel see reason. "You must rest a little and then go on alone. You must leave me here. You will die if you continue this foolish emprise. Do not make me take such a burden to Namo. I will never repent enough to leave his Halls if your blood is on my head."

Whisper answered whisper: "No."

"Then, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, hear this:" The elf's voice gathered strength and passion, "I and Elrond, the twins, Glorfindel, Mithrandir; ALL of us, swore an oath to protect you that you might one day save Middle Earth from darkness. Will you make me foresworn? Will you make me take that to Valinor? To be the only one of my House so dishonored?"

"You are not forsworn. It is my decision to continue or not." The young man spoke flatly, "I will take you home or we will greet Namo together."

"Then I have no choice but to tell you the truth you have always suspected. It is true that I pretend to care for you, in order to be close to the future king that I swore to protect. It is as you said: We are not brutes. We hoped you would believe we cared for you for your own sake. But I am sorry, Estel, but no elf can truly care for a man. How could they?"

The hand in Legolas' hand became still as death. Then the fingers were slowly pulled away. /Now he will go./ As the fingertips softly brushed his own in their withdrawal, the elf fought a desperate need to renew their clasp. He wondered why his heart ached so when he had obtained his desire.

But Estel moved back into his line of vision. He reached out a finger and caught a tear that fell from deep blue eyes. He brought the tear to his lips and tasted it. He smiled with love shining in his countenance. "I do now as you once did in my poppy-wrought delusions. But the other-you desired my heart's breaking and I but witness yours. Your tears belie you, Legolas. I will not ever believe those lies again."

The elf smiled weakly. "I am not strong enough to be sorry, gwador nin. Now will you please give me my wish and leave me?"

"No."

Enough time had passed since Estel's attack that he was able to climb to his feet.

"Is there anything I can do for you before we continue?"

"Leave me and save your life."

Estel sighed and once again hauled the litter to his back.

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Elrohir broke the intense gaze between himself and the bird that rested on his vambrace. He tossed the falcon in the air and it took wing, circled the elf's company, and then flew in a northerly direction. Elrohir motioned after the bird, "Follow her!"

His lieutenant protested, "My lord, there is no reason why they would go that way! We will waste valuable time!"

"We have quartered these foothills and found nothing, as Elladan has the higher slopes. Glorfindel is almost to Mirkwood. There has been no sign of either of them. Eruin says she has seen strange tracks and dead wolves. We follow her."

He turned to his horse but before mounting he rested his head against its neck and closed his eyes. His elves went silent, sitting their horses and waiting for him. After several moments he raised his head and sprang on the horse that was already moving forward.

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Elladan bent over the hoof he held cradled in one hand. "Ah, now! Hold still! I have almost got it – there!" He disgustedly flicked out a stone that had wedged between the metal shoe and the frog of the hoof. He sheathed his dagger and suddenly froze. His eyes glazed and he dropped the hoof he had been holding. Then he reared upright and shouted, "North! We ride north!"

When his second galloped alongside and questioned Elladan, the twin shook his head. "We can send but the vaguest impressions. I only know we are to go north."

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End chapter 4