Title: Buried: Ascension

Author: Pentangle

Estel is fifteen years old.

This story follows "Buried: Descent" and "Buried: Revelation" and is the last in the series.

Found

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Two groups of elves galloped closer and closer together. One climbed from the south-west and the gentle foothills, the other swept down from the south-east and the steeper slopes there. They met as a thundering arrowhead, with two identical riders racing well to the fore, their faces hopeful and determined.

They followed a bird that now began to circle down to the ground. The foremost riders pulled up hard close to where she rested. Off to their right, in the distance, was a lone butte rising from the plain. To the left was open ground dotted with small woods. The dark-haired elves took different paths to the bird, looking closely at the ground. What they found astounded them and filled them with hope; Elladan recognized them first.

"These are Sadoreth's. And Estel's! Thank Elbereth, we have found him! But what is this, this gouge, going with them?"

"There are two! See here, where the ground is softer? It is a litter!"

"Then Legolas is badly injured. Estel at least is on his feet."

"We do not know it is Legolas."

"Who else? At least we have found them. And Estel was able to walk and make a litter. Ada must know. Send word every way and we will follow the trail."

The two instructed several of their number to carry messages to all who needed to know the lost had been, if not found, at least localized. Then they mounted again and followed a trail that needed neither careful scrutiny nor a slow pace to decipher.

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Estel was lying flat on the ground. The litter was on top of him. This made how many? The two thousandth time he had fallen? Maybe he should stop getting up. They would be found soon. Very soon. All of Imladris must be searching for them. He would just stay here and soon someone would come with water and horses and sweet, sweet rest. They would take Legolas from him and cure him. His burden would be lifted; his friend would live. He would just wait right here.

Except he could not. Even as he lay there his hands made weak movements, reaching forward. He pushed himself off the ground again, struggling to raise himself and the litter. When he finally managed it he staggered forward two steps. Pause. Three fast steps that ended as he leaned on a tree-trunk. Pushed off. Five more steps. Litter caught on a tree root. Lean back, then jerk. Jerk! It came loose suddenly—pushed him eight fast, stumbling steps. Pause. Breath is fire. Muscles are fire. All is torment. Plod six more steps. Trip over rock. Crash to earth.

How long had it been since he had heard any sign of life from the elf? His boots were full of blood and the bandages on his hands were black with it. His face looked like he had been on the losing end of a hundred fights.

He pulled his knife and cut the straps that bound him to the litter. He was finished; he could not stand again. He crawled from under the litter and pulled himself to Legolas' face. He felt the elf's throat and shifted his fingers about in growing fear when he felt nothing. He placed his cheek above the elf's mouth and again felt nothing. After increasingly desperate searching he finally felt a faint movement beneath his fingers and leaned his forehead against Legolas' shoulder, shaking with relief. "You live, but I do not think I can go any further, gwador nin. Forgive me…You chose ill when you said you would be my friend. You were wrong; it is not a hard thing for an elf to be friends with a man—it is a deadly thing. Were I even peredhil, I would have the strength to save you."

Legolas made no response. Estel tried to rest but could not. His brother still lived. Barely, but he lived. The boy gave a sob of exhausted rebellion but his spirit would not let him rest while the elf still drew breath. He crawled to the front of the litter and looped his swordbelt through the top cross-piece. He buckled the belt around him again with fumbling fingers. He got to his hands and knees with the top of the litter on his back—he looked like a bizarre turtle whose shell was sliding off. He moved his right hand forward, then his left knee. Left hand, right knee. Right hand, left knee. Again. Again. Slowly he continued on.

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Elladan looked up the cliff. "They went up. How, I do not know, but the tracks stop here. Sadoreth went that way with no rider. He has been turned loose. Should we do the same and follow them up the cliff?"

Elrohir pointed south. "Mounted, we can get to the path that leads upward in an hour. Estel could not have gotten the litter up that track, but we will easily gain back the time once we are on top of the plateau."

A voice shouted down to the twins from half-way up the cliff. Three of their scouts had been sent up to see what sign there might be. "My lords! There are many places where the something made of wood scraped the rock! And there is blood, especially on this ledge!"

"Elven or human?"

"Human!"

"Elladan, we must hurry!" Without waiting for agreement Elrohir headed his horse along the cliff-face. The rest of the company pounded in his wake.

Three hours later they examined the streamside where Estel had crossed. The sign was very fresh; they were close indeed! They galloped on into the light of early evening.

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As dusk fell, Elladan was on one knee in the middle of the tracks made by the errant friends. He delicately touched an odd-looking depression and then raised his fingers and tasted them. He was puzzled.

"Leather and blood. But what kind of print is this?"

"Let us not take the time to riddle the answer! We are so close they may be around the next bend."

"You are right. We must slow our pace or we will ride them down."

They jogged slowly for another half an hour. As they came around yet another rock outcropping they pulled up in amazement. Before them they saw a litter with Legolas tied onto it. It moved very, very slowly, but they could not see its means of locomotion. The twins dismounted and walked quickly around only to freeze again. Their brother, the fifteen year old human, crawled on his hands and knees under the litter. He left blood behind in every print, and his breath wheezed and whistled. He whispered, his voice so hoarse it hurt the twins' throats just to hear him, "Forgive me…………..forgive me."

Elladan grasped the top of the litter as Elrohir stooped down and gently took his brother's shoulders.

"Estel! Stop! We are here! We are late come, but we are here. Your journey is done."

Estel made no sign he heard and put forth one hand again.

"Cut the litter free, Elrohir, and I will set Legolas down. Here! You!" Elladan shouted at the elves that hung back, not sure what to do. "Make a two horse litter as fast as you can. Get some water over here and some bandages!"

When they took the litter from Estel's back, he cried out and grabbed at it desperately. Elladan grasped his brother around the shoulders and pulled him around so they were face to face. "Estel, let us take him. We are your brothers. Look at me!"

Elladan's commanding voice finally got through to the boy and he whispered, "Elladan? You have come? I knew you would. I knew you would…." He released his burden and greeted oblivion with a sob of welcome.

His brothers gently laid him on his back and gasped at what they saw. Blood, yes, that they expected, but not the tiny white glimpses of bone and tendon that shone through shredded leggings and what amounted to minced human.

"Elbereth! How did he - I cannot believe he was still moving!"

"That damned prince had better be all right!" swore Elrohir. He looked to the other elves that were tending Legolas. His heart sank at their sorrowful faces. He straightened up.

"Make that litter big enough for two. Estel cannot ride, even with one of us."

Now that the lost had been found, help began to appear from all quarters. A group of elves from the Imladris side came up, with Sadoreth running along with them, and as the trek to Imladris began, the rest of the original search parties joined them one by one. Only Glorfindel's troop was too far away to join in bringing the two friends home.

It was decided to forego horse litters as too rough, even the two-horse variety where the litter was suspended between two horses. Stretchers were made and manned by elves who fought for a turn to take the wounded home. As the word of Estel's feat spread, silent awe replaced the worried mutterings. A child! A human child to do such a thing!

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Elrond waited on the steps of his House. A fast outrider had brought news of Estel's incredible journey. His face was stern as he prepared himself to deal with what he would find. He would believe Estel would recover when he had seen him with his own eyes, the twins' assurances notwithstanding. He was also concerned as he did not know the extent of Legolas' injury. The elves tending him had decided not to remove the splints when Legolas would be in Elrond's care so soon anyway. This turned out to be a very good thing.

When the bearers came in sight, Elrond drew a deep breath and braced himself. He ran down the steps and to Estel's stretcher. He gave no sign of the distress the boy's many injuries caused him as he checked over his son quickly and efficiently. The vital signs were weak but essentially sound. His hurts were grave enough, but could wait a little while to be tended. He frowned, worried about the condition of the boy's hands, for they were badly damaged though the bleeding had stopped. He did not try to awaken his son as his swoon was not deep and would spare him some of the pain of treatment.

Elrond turned to Legolas and started to cut the bindings on the splints. It was a very odd arrangement and made it impossible to see the wound. His knife was touching the leather cords when a hoarse croak made him spin around to view his son again.

"No!...Careful... Not straighten…Do not …"

Elrond hurried to Estel's side. He very gently caressed a bruised cheek. "Hush, ion nin, you are home and safe. You are both safe now. Be easy. Let me judge the extent of Legolas' injury and then I will return to you –"

The boy raised a shaking, mangled hand to stop his father. His voice grated like sand on stone. "Do not…straighten….houghed…"

Elrond gasped and spun again, to face Legolas. Houghed! That explained why one leg wound had left a strong warrior near death. Just what one would expect from the get of Thranduil! Mirkwood elves, perhaps with reason, were quick to despair and leave Middle Earth when confronted with the cruelties of fate. Well, Legolas would be surprised. Elrond felt that fading was over-rated and over-done. Sentimental nonsense! He, Elrond, had had more than a few reasons to fade over the ages but had not. It was not inevitable. The Mirkwood elf would not fade on his watch!

He turned back to Estel. He spoke slowly and firmly to reassure his son. "I have heard you. He has been houghed. Do not worry; I will not remove the splints until I have the leg immobilized. You have done very, very well. I am so proud of you, my valiant son." He tenderly drew his hand down, closing the lids on the feverish eyes. "Sleep now, Estel. Sleep……sleep…"

"I hate when…you do…that…" The eyelids twitched but remained closed.

The elf lord bent and kissed the filthy, bloodied forehead. He whispered, "I know."

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For the next several hours the healers worked over Estel and Legolas. As much as Elrond wanted to tend his son, Legolas' need was more immediate. The elf lord set up the surgery and with two healers maintaining some bend in the leg, he carefully, by the smallest increments, began to clean the wound. It would need freshening and he planned the amount of tissue to remove as he cleaned deeper and deeper. When the full damage was revealed he probed very cautiously. Surely that white band was the main ligament and it was not completely severed! He checked again and again from different angles. It was true. The knife had bitten deeply, but not quite deeply enough. Either the villain's heart was not in the business or the Valar nudged his aim the smallest bit awry. Since most of the muscles had been severed, Legolas could not be blamed for thinking the worst had happened. Elrond began the most delicate, most demanding suturing, using every skill he had developed as well as his Valar given Power. It would still mean a long and difficult recovery, with the possibility of a permanent limp. But the limb would be strong and useful again. He made multiple layers of sutures: the minor tendons, the deeper muscles, the more superficial muscles, and finally the skin. At long last he threw off his bloody robe, cleaned his hands, and went to see Estel.

He sat down anxiously by his son and examined every bandage and tending for the most miniscule deficiency. He found none and contented himself with smoothing the perennially tangled hair. The silver eyes opened and the boy smiled crookedly with his swollen mouth.

"Ada…How glad I am to see you! How is Legolas?"

"We will get to that in a moment. How do you feel?"

"Terrible."

"Can you be more specific?"

"Hands: hurt. Feet: hurt. Arms: hurt. Legs: hurt. Head: hurts. Face: hurts. Back:-"

"Hmmm. Yes, I believe I understand the general trend. I will give you something more for the pain and to make you sleep. The tea is being made now. But before it gets here, I have some good news for you."

"Legolas?"

"Yes. First of all, because you splinted the leg the way you did, and only because of that, the main ligament did not completely sever on your journey and he will ride and shoot as well as ever. He may have a slight limp, but that will be all. Most anyone else would have splinted his leg straight, if they even used splints. Why did you treat him the way you did?"

"I am not really sure. After I cleaned the wound I put my hands on him, as you do." He sighed. "Nothing happened—it did not cure him. But I did get a strong feeling not to straighten the leg, so I splinted it bent like that."

"That is the power in you, Estel. It does not always heal directly; sometimes it tells you what you must do. And I myself could not have put together severed ligaments, my son. It is well that you know that we with the gift have many limitations."

"What else about Legolas? You said, 'First of all..'"

"Second of all, he is not going to fade any time soon. I do have enough power to keep him here until we make him see reason."

"Thank Elbereth!" the boy said reverently.

"Indeed. And thanks to you, as well, Estel. Do you have any comprehension of what you have done?"

"Am I going to be punished?"

His father stared at him in astonishment. "Punished? For what? Saving someone's life? And even if I deemed it necessary," he looked at the many injuries Estel had taken while trying to save his friend, "in my darkest nightmares I could not conceive of inflicting so much pain upon you." He started to say more but was interrupted by a truly gargantuan yawn. The ruler of Imladris looked a little abashed as he quickly covered his mouth.

"You need a nap, sleepy one!" Estel teased his father with a phrase heard far too often in his younger years.

Elrond smiled. "Perhaps, ion nin, but I have many things yet to do. First, though, I had to make sure you were well cared for, and I could not leave you wondering about Legolas. But as soon as your tea gets here, you are the one who will sleep."

Elrond hesitated, but he had never been one to shirk unpleasant duties. "Estel, you also have been badly injured." He stroked the boy's face, his fingers feather-light on purple bruises. "I will need to repair your knees and especially your hands. Not today. Not until most of the swelling is gone so that I may see better what needs to be done, but soon, Estel. I am sorry, ion, but I will have to perform surgery on you."

Estel smiled twistedly at him. "This is a good time to tell me for I cannot imagine being more

miserable than I am right now. Do not be sad, Ada. I know you will make me good as new."

His father dearly wanted to gather his courageous child into his arms but was afraid he would cause too much pain. He contented himself with continuing to smooth the dark hair but had to pause to cover another yawn.

Estel coaxed sweetly, "Ada, my bed is wide and the pillows soooo soft. Come and sleep with me, just for a little. No one can throw you out!"

"You tempt me, but I cannot –"

His son broke in with a long, sad sigh. "Oh well then, if my Ada cannot stay with me, if he does not love me enough to spend just a few minutes singing me to sleep, I will just stay here alone. Alone and in terrible pain, wanting my Ada…" His voice faded off in an artful, barely audible whimper.

"You are shameless!"

"I am. Is it working?" Estel laughed up at his father. But the laughter faded and the boy's eyes held all the fear and uncertainty and pain he had endured since he left his home to find his friend. He whispered, "Please, Ada."

Without another word the elf lord removed his shoes, letting them fall where they would, and climbed into the bed next to his son. Estel turned his head into his father's shoulder and began to weep though he made no sound, only the tremors in his shoulders giving him away. Elrond smoothed the boy's hair with one hand and hugged Estel to him with the other. He whispered words of love and pride. "Hush, hush now, my heart. All is well; you are home. I am here and will not leave you. All is well; you have saved your friend. Ah, such joy is mine to have such a son! Shhhh, do not weep, my dear son. Your trial is over; you have won your prize. You have the love, the courage, and the strength of my brother. How proud he must be of you! But not so proud as I…" Through his pride and relief, Elrond's heart ached. Estel had just made a tremendous leap into adulthood, though he did not yet know it. This might be the last time the child—for so he still was to his father—would accept this kind of comfort. Elrond's arms tightened around his son and his own eyes glistened.

When Estel finally slept, his father did not leave him.

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End Chapter 5