Chapter Forty-Seven

~ Estel~
When I took the palantír from Pippin, I wasn't thinking about the danger I was putting myself in or that there were other people around or that there was a very good reason as to why the Hobbit was twisting and writhing so wildly on the ground.

All I was thinking was that I had to do something.

And so I did.

It was like . . . indescribable agony. I was in more pain than I'd ever been, more pain than every single pain from all the years of my life combined and doubled, from the little pains of scabbing a knee to the bigger pains of childbirth. I felt like I was . . . dying.

Literally.

I was in a raging inferno of boiling lava and fire and pain, suspended in front of a giant blazing eye by the Palantír that was practically stuck to my hands.

The Eye focused on me . . . and then the pain, impossible as it had already been, tripled.

It demanded information, but I was too befuddled with pain to even comprehend, much less answer.

And the Eye grew angry.

The Eye's probe ripped through my mind like one pushes aside cobwebs – easily, swiftly, and painfully. All of my memories, my fears, my pains were at its disposal. It could do absolutely anything it wished to to me. Anything.

So I relived my life.

I relived learning of the deaths of my sister and mother, and then my father and brother.

I relived being enslaved.

I relived undergoing beatings.

I relived enduring violation.

The Eye laughed, awfully and coldly and evilly, as I screamed and writhed, trying to fight my way out.

But I was trapped, as securely as a fish in a net. I couldn't possibly escape.

And then the Eye went even farther.

Little hope, it crooned. So you think Gondor can be saved. . . Hah! See the future, then, and know your doom!

I was hurled into a sea of new images, images I didn't remember, images of . . . the future.

I saw Eldarion, felled by an overwhelming rank of archers.

I saw Tinúviel, killed by an Uruk-hai as the army swarmed all around her.

I saw my mother, carried off and burned by cackling mercenaries.

I saw Aragorn, falling under the weight of an enormous troll that swept him aside like a pebble.

I saw Gimli, stabbed by cackling goblins.

Countless images of people I knew, people I cared for swept through my mind – Lord Elrond, Arwen, Elrohir, Elladan, Glorfindel, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Haldir, Boromir, King Théoden, Éomer, Éowyn. . .

Everyone around me was falling, and I couldn't lift a finger to stop it.

An image flashed at me, so quick I nearly missed it – my father, curled into a fetal ball, bloody, battered, beaten, nearly dead.

I could save him, the voice insisted.

No, I tried to say. He's already dead.

The voice was displeased.

Another image flashed: Legolas, his blonde hair sullied by blood and dirt, his face smeared with sweat and spit, his arms and legs bound, a flaming knife slicing through his skin slowly as he twisted and fought. Blood poured from his wounds and his expression contorted into the utmost agony; he practically begged for death.

But they didn't give it.

My heart stopped, and the voice noted it with glee.

You could save him from that. You just have to talk. I could save him, protect you, let him remain whole for you. You just have to tell me. . .

No, came my weak protest.

The Eye of Sauron flared, and I screamed.

Fool! Then he will die! They will all die, and MINAS TIRITH WILL BURN AND ALL OF MIDDLE-EARTH WILL FALL –

The voice cut off suddenly. A hand rested on my forehead; arms cradled me off of the ground; a heartbeat sounded near my ear.

Sound turned on abruptly.

" – coming around," someone was saying abruptly. "Valar, help us! Estel, oh my stars, Estel can you hear me? Estel, please!"

I wanted to talk, to respond, to say something to answer that pleading voice – but the darkness beckoned for a final rest, no pain, no fire, no Sauron, no nothing. . .

Then I heard something else, just as I started to slip away.

"~Estel, please, don't give in,~" someone whispered, heartbreak in the voice. "~Come back, Estel, please. It's not yet your time, Estel, come back.~"

And with a gasp, my eyes snapped open.

Everything was blurry at first, but I could make out outlines. And I knew exactly how I felt – exhausted, injured, vulnerable.

I blinked. And then colors and clarity returned.

Mithrandir lifted his hand from my forehead, his eyes grave.

Eldarion seized my hand. "Estel! Oh, thank the Valar – we thought we lost you!"

I searched the desperate faces for the one I sought, the one who had spoken. I felt my heart sink when I didn't see it. Surely Sauron hadn't acted that fast against him. . .

"Legolas?" I whispered.

The arms shifted. "~I'm here, little one,~" Legolas said softly, looking down at me.

For a moment, I stared at him. Then I flung my arms around him and buried my face in his chest, sobbing. "I thought – you were – dead!" I choked out.

I felt him start, but his arms closed reflexively around me, shielding and supporting me.

Voices clamored anxiously around us, but Legolas spoke calmly – in Elvish or in the common tongue, I didn't know – and slowly the commotion quieted. I heard the soft footsteps pass me by and felt the soft brushes of others bidding me farewell. And soon the room was empty.

I was still crying, though, the memories or visions or whatever they had been far too vivid to go away quickly.

Legolas held me tightly. "~Calm down, little one,~" he murmured over and over again. "~I'm here; I won't leave you, I promise.~"

Even with his musical, soothing voice soft in my ear, it still took a long time before I even started to calm down. But eventually even my sobs turned to hiccups and then to nothing.

I still clung frantically to him, though.

When all was silent for a few minutes, he shifted so that I could look up and asked quietly, "~What happened?~"

I trembled in his arms, grateful he had a secure hold on me. "~I was scared.~"

He brushed at my hair with a tender hand. "~Of what? Why did you think I was dead?~"

I shook my head mutely; I couldn't bring myself to speak the horrible words of what I had seen when I held the Palantír.

"~I was scared,~" was all I could say.

~ Legolas ~
I pulled her closer and felt my eyes narrow. Sauron. No doubt it had done something to Estel, something that had scared her so greatly she couldn't even talk about it.

And, apparently, something concerning me.

After a bit, I lifted her in my arms, and to my concern she didn't even react in the slightest. She should have started or said something, at the least. But instead she merely huddled closer to me, her face still buried against my chest.

I put her down on a pallet, wrapping the blanket around her. But that wasn't enough of a substitute, because she reached for me instantly afterwards.

So I sat on the pallet too and held her.

Finally, I asked, "~What did you see?~"

Her eyes unfocused a little. "~It was horrible,~" she whispered. "~I was burning, and everyone . . . everyone was dying. Aragorn, Gimli, Eldarion, Tinúviel, my mother, Lord Elrond, Arwen – everyone.~"

I stroked her hair, not pressuring her. Estel would have to take this at her own speed for now.

"~Then I . . . I saw my father.~" She swallowed hard. "~It . . . It tried to bargain with me for him.~"

I frowned. Isn't he dead? But I couldn't say that; not now.

She saw my expression anyways. "~I know. So I refused. And he burned me again.~" She shivered, pulling the blanket more tightly around her.

"~And then I . . . I saw you,~" she said hoarsely. "~And you were . . . you wanted to die, but they kept you alive. And they were burning you and cutting you up and . . . I was so confused and I was so scared . . . And then I woke up and I couldn't find you and I thought that . . .~"

"~Hush,~" I told her gently.

I rocked her gently in my arms as she stopped talking. I knew all I needed to. No wonder she had been so scared and hysterical when she came to. No wonder.

She sniffled as she looked around. "~Where is everyone?~" she asked.

"~I sent them out,~" I replied. "~I thought it would be best if we sorted this out in private. We can't have all of court thinking I was killed and miraculously rose from the dead, now can we?"

Her smile was small, but it was all the reward I needed.

I released her gently, unwinding my arms from around her. "~Are you sure you're okay?~"

She nodded once. "~I think so. For now.~"

I studied her. Estel had never seemed so . . . fragile, so delicate, so . . . vulnerable. She looked like Sauron had ripped away every single defense she had and peered into the workings of her very being, her soul, her consciousness. As if he had dredged up every nightmare, every fear, every pain from within her and forced her to confront it.

I stroked her hair again. "~Sleep then, if you can,~" I said. "~You'll need it.~"

When I made to rise, she grabbed at my hand, her eyes anxious. "~Where are you going?~" she demanded fearfully.

I permitted myself a small smile. "~If I'm going to stay with you, I'm going to need another bed. I can't sleep on the floor.~"

She relaxed and released my hand.

I crouched by her side as she lay her head on the pillow. "~Sleep, Estel,~" I murmured. "~I won't leave you, I promise. And I won't let it hurt you again.~"

Estel stared at me, seriousness and sleepiness mixing oddly in her young, pale face. "~I know,~" she said softly.

And then she closed her eyes.

I studied her for another long moment. Then I shook my head and sighed. Just when I had thought I could make a clean break and let her find her happiness with Éomer, now this. Now there would be no salvation for me.

And the worst part?

I couldn't tell her.

I was caught, surer than if I'd been bound with magic. After seeing her like this, I yearned to take her in my arms and promise her everything my world had to offer and love her until the end of my days.

I could not, though.

I couldn't be so cruel to her.

But with the image of her sobbing and heartbroken and fragile stuck so firmly in my mind, I knew that I was lost to her – I would never stop loving her now. I had seen her at her best, and now I had seen her at her worst.

Except now I only loved her more for it.

I rose swiftly and crossed to the door. I wasn't going to leave her for long, but Eldarion would go crazy if I didn't assure him Estel was fine.

Thankfully, he had the sense to whisper instead of shout.

I told him everything, including the reasons for her hysterical outburst, and when I was finished, he had relaxed considerably.

"~Thank the Valar that she trusts you,~" he said. "~And thank you for caring for her.~"

Hah! I care for her, all right; just not in the way you'd want, I thought bitterly. But all I said was, "~I have to stay with her tonight. Can you keep everyone away until at least morning? By then, she should be fine.~"

"~Of course. Good night, Legolas.~"

I slipped back inside and shut the door. Good, she hadn't woken up. Quickly, I dragged a pallet over and sat on it as I looked at her.

Even in sleep, she looked worn out and distressed and vulnerable.

As I lay down, keeping a careful eye on her, the anger within me burned ever brighter at this new offense by Sauron – and I would not forgive him, ever, for hurting Estel.