Hey, thanks for the reviews, Syen, Imaginigma, Hazle Silver, mystic angel of the tarit viggomaniac, Iwishchan, and grumpy! I only read them today, but they really inspired me! Please keep reviewing!

Sorry for this late update again. I got my internet taken away from me, and my school play is in a week. My schedule's very hectic right now, but I will try and write whenever I can. But anyway, enjoy, and I hope you review!

Chapter 7

The Secrets of the Spring

That night, under the clear stars and inky sky, Cuiladan finally revealed his gift for Estel that he had mentioned what seemed like an age ago. The others were asleep some ways off, and the horses blocked the two brothers from the girl and the elves.

"I was supposed to have given this to you on your birthday, but... well… too many things happened that day, and problems continued to mount. And now, we have found a girl from Rohan. I thought I had better give this to you now before I forget once more," Cuiladan explained to his brother, and presented him with a thin, brown package.

Estel, who had completely forgotten about his brother's promise of a birthday present, smiled and received it. "Thank you," he answered, and smiled, surprised at the weight of the bag.

He sat, weighing the package in his hands and furrowing his brows for so long that Cuiladan asked, "Will you not open it? It will go well with the gift ada gave you before the journey."

Carefully, the boy unwrapped the plain brown paper, easing out the creases as if he were ironing a dress shirt. "What did ada give me?" he asked aloud, as he unfolded the last of the paper and gasped. Before his eyes was a belt of fine, oiled, black leather, coiled in into perfection with its head at its center. Estel unrolled this, and found that it was studded with tiny stars of pure white gold. Its latch and buckle was made of lighter, yet more beautiful metal.

Mithril.

"You have not opened ada's present?" Cuiladan exclaimed.

"I have not had the time, I guess," Estel replied, and could not help but add a bitter tone to his voice. He remembered how Elrond had given him the package and had walked off without saying a word. But he could not think of that now. "Oh, Cuiladan, money could not have bought this. I'm only the youngest son of Elrond. This… this would look ridiculous on me!"

His older brother laughed and replied, "That is only because you have not seen ada's present. Where is it?"

"On my horse, in a bag."

"Bring it and open it. Then you shall realize why my gift is appropriate."

Estel obediently went to retrieve the other package, all the time imagining what could possibly justify the beautiful belt Cuiladan had given him. There was mithril on the belt! Even the dwarves found it hard to mine, and the only great lords and ladies owned it. He was, at most, an exiled prince of the Westernesse, a mere Dunadan, doomed to never be able to set foot in Gondor.

Estel brought the strangely light bundle to his brother, and with the same care, opened it. His eyes were wider and his mouth bigger than when he saw Cuiladan's gift. "This… this is too much!" he cried. Before him, was a feather-light mithril coat of mail, fitting like a shirt, yet able to turn swords. Below that was black, silky uniform of the same sort, undoubtedly for a warrior. Crested on it, with mithril thread, was white tree with seven stars circling it. He had seen it somewhere before.

"The uniform of the White City," his brother told him quietly. "A memory of the greatness of Gondor before the days of the stewards." The brothers looked into each other's eyes, and Estel saw there a gleam of light in Cuildan's gray eyes that he had not seen before. "One day, one of us will restore that greatness."

Both looked at the cool, silvery mail and the velvet uniform with awe and reverence, thinking of the days of their ancestors, when great men sat upon the throne of Gondor.

Estel, staring at the mithril stars upon the black cloth, just like the real stars in the darkened skies above, could almost see Isildur, wearing the same uniform, face blackened by battle and the ash of the fiery mountain, dangling the legendary ring in front of him. Was he, a noble man that he was, wearing this same pattern when he suddenly decided that he must have the Ring for himself? Despite all of ada's warnings, was he wearing this when he took the Ring to be his? Was he wearing this when he was killed by Orcs and thrown into the Anduin?

At this thought, the boy felt bile tinge is palate, and quickly looked up from the soft uniform. "You will restore that greatness," he said firmly, and pushed the belt, mail, and uniform towards Cuiladan without any reluctance. "You should have this."

The other's gaze followed the moved items, and for what seemed like eternity, no one spoke. The elder's hand suddenly came forward and hovered above the three things, but just as quickly, he made a fist and withdrew his arm.

"No," he told Estel, raising his eyes. "I gave you the belt and ada gave you these things for a reason. You must take them."

The boy shook his head. "But if you become king, will you take them?"

Cuiladan closed his eyes and then opened them slowly, as if thinking hard and suppressing a feeling. Breathing in deeply he answered, "We will make a pact. Whoever becomes king will have these things. But because ada gave these things to you, keep them for now. Besides, our names…"

He trailed off, leaving Estel waiting.

"Our names?" he prompted.

"Well, our names are not actually Cuiladan and Estel. Those are just…names that naneth and ada made to make sure that we did not even know who we were," Cuiladan told Estel. "Think of it. 'Cuildadan.' It means 'life of man.' And 'Estel…' it means 'hope.'" His brother smiled and gave out a dry laugh as he looked back down at the three items. "They believe that we are the life and hope of man, Estel."

Estel sat back stunned. He could imagine anyone calling him anything but "Estel," and bit his bottom lip. If he had another name, he knew that he would never answer to it. "Then," he asked hoarsely, licking his lips, "what are our real names?"

"That, I think," Cuiladan replied, "I will save for another night."

On the Hithaeglir, the days were getting steadily getting longer and milder, and the weather became almost tolerable. The middle of the fourth month of the year had come and the early spring showers were giving way to sunshine and flowers.

Up until now, Elladan's prophecy about the slave girl had not been fulfilled, and the rest of the company had found her tolerable. Indeed, Cuiladan had even found a special friendship with her. He told them that her name was Eordhe, meaning "Earth" in their language. It was a common name, and even more so for a slave, but other than that, she would not reveal any more information. Estel watched uneasily as the woman and his brother became closer and closer, until it seemed that Cuiladan was with her more than he was with his brothers.

Orophin and Gildor had already begun to whisper, and Lindir, known for his voice, had begun to hum love songs each time the two passed. Ranien, though too polite to say anything, raised both eyebrows each time the couple passed, and seemed to have lent an ear to Orophin and Gildor.

Elladan, for once, was no the one alarmed and panicking. "It will pass," he said reassuringly, when he saw Estel gazing worriedly at the two.

After the slave had washed herself, she was not as ugly as Estel had thought. True, she was not beautiful, as the elven maidens in Rivendell had been, but then, elves had an ethereal beauty that humans could never achieve. However, she was pretty, with brownish copper hair and a pair of large, brown eyes. Her skin was olive, tanned, no doubt, by the Rohirrim sun. It was a simple, bovine beauty that she possessed, and it could be seen that intelligence, though not knowledge, was part of her thin tenure of attributes. Over the few weeks, she had learned a few more words of Common so that her speech was almost recognizable and seldom did she have to fall back into her own tongue.

Cuiladan seemed captivated.

"Do not worry," Elladan continued. "Cuiladan is young. His heart will not settle on one girl." He then went back to his maps, leaving the boy uneasy and suspicious. Elladan seemed too unconcerned for their brother's love life. It seemed as if he knew more than anyone else did, and that there would be a reason Cuiladan would stop his infatuation with this Eordhe.

Elrohir, on the other hand, was furious. The young man overheard them speaking quickly and softly in Quenya so the Silvan Elves would not understand. In any case, neither Lindir and Gildor, or Ranien and Orophin were in the proximity. "For the love of the Valar, Elladan! He is the exiled heir to the throne of Gondor! Restoring him back to his rightful place is going to be hard enough, not to mention putting a bastard queen up there with him!"

Estel heard his oldest brother making hushing sounds. "He is not going to marry the first girl he meets," he reassured quietly. "It is spring. She is the only woman around his age. At the next place we stop, he will forget her."

Elrohir snorted. "An illegitimate child is hardly any better."

"I have heard nothing," Elladan replied dryly, and that was all Estel heard, for by this time, he had gasped so loudly that he was soon found out.

Other than that, their journey over the Hithaeglir was rather peaceful, and the boy did not know whether he was glad or not that no Orcs or other creatures came to attack them.

Gilraen laid in her room, perspiring and tossing in her sleep. Fine wrinkles that had not been there before could be seen on her forehead and under her eyes. The departure of her two only sons had not been beneficial to her already fragile health, and now, in the pits of illness, she was thin and drawn. In her white nightgown, she seemed more ghostly than human.

Elrond looked up from the sick woman and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the images Gilraen spoke of. In her line, ran the gift of foresight, and she had seen. In a frenzy, she had described the events that even he could not foresee to him, and then fell back, exhausted from her exertion. The elf did not know why he had sent all of his sons on this. Elladan and Elrohir, he was not worried about. They knew the ways of the world and could cope. He had faith that they would come back to him. He had not yet seen death in their future.

But Cuiladan and Estel…

Both were so young, and had he known what they were about to face, he would never have sent them on this journey. Cuiladan must be protected, yet how could he be shielded and yet be a king that knew his people's plights? The only way was to make him a commoner and give him courage by testing him. Elladan and Elrohir could protect him, but if they were separated?

And Estel… he was only a child! A mere boy of nineteen. This would be his first experience of the world. He knew nothing! He could not survive by himself out there. And now, their mother was near death.

Sighing, Elrond cursed under his breath, and braced himself for another trial to remove the illness from Gilraen's body.

But as he looked, the woman became still and her lips parted. Her eyes moved under their lids, as they do when one is in deep sleep. "Cuiladan… Estel…" she murmured, her throat already ragged from coughing. Somehow, the hoarse words came to only be more terrifying. "The life and hope of man…Life is gone… only hope remains…"

TBC...

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