Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I make no money from this writing.
(I meant to say that the last chapter was from Elladan's point of view, but I suspect everyone has worked that out by now. Ha!)
A brief note of thanks to my faithful reviewers. Your support means a great deal to me – thank you so much for your kind words and encouragement.
Now – on with the story.
"I've lost him!" Elrohir tells me, entering my chamber in something of a hurry.
I had been lying down, taking a moment to gather my strength for the day, having watched over Estel most of the night to make sure he didn't feel the need to wander off anywhere. I sit up, feeling every one of my many years in Middle Earth.
"You had to entertain him for one hour," I say, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of my voice.
"I know, I know," he says, shaking his head. "Do you think he's gone to see his pony?"
"That's certainly the least worst thing that could have happened," I say, and he grins ruefully.
"I don't understand why he's so disobedient," my brother says.
"Did you actually say he had to stay in his room all morning?" I ask, trying to fathom this mystery.
"No," he says. "I didn't."
We ponder this omission.
"And before you say anything, I know that was my job. Keep him in his room. I said I'd help him with a picture of – what did he call that pony? Spider?"
"Did he say anything?"
My brother thinks carefully. He is perhaps carefully choosing what to tell me, since he has clearly made a mistake.
"He said he wanted to check something. I was getting him a piece of paper. As I turned, I saw the door closing and Estel had gone. Ah." Light dawned in my brother's face, and relief. "He's gone to look at the pony again so that he can draw it."
Elrohir seems happier now. I am not and I grimace. "If he's gone through the kitchens all will be well. If he went by the front door, we are in serious difficulty, brother."
He did not take much finding. As I walked down the corridor, he was being escorted from the chamber in which the meeting concerning him was taking place. He had unerringly chosen the one place he should not have been.
"Now, my boy," came a familiar voice.
So that is why he went into that room. He has sharp hearing, my brother.
"Gandalf!" Estel says, as a large hand in the boy's back guides him into the corridor. "I've got a new pony! But Ruby died. And I broke my arm. And I've got a new friend. And he's called Halbarad. We went down the Bruinen on an adventure!"
Gandalf's glance held me in place. The wizard gathers his robes around him and settles on a convenient chair.
"Estel," he says, holding up his hand.
The boy shuts his mouth.
"I have a great many questions for you. And I know you have a great many questions for me," Gandalf says quickly. "But they, and you, will have to wait."
"But Gandalf! You haven't been here for such a long time!"
"I know, my boy. I had intended to visit you two months ago but I was detained. Now, do you think you can wait until the midday meal? Was there something you could do to help you pass the time?" Gandalf looks at me, his eyes bright. I take my cue and step forward.
"Yes, Gandalf. We were about to draw a picture of the new pony. It's called Spider," I added, and those bright eyes twinkled.
"Spider, eh? Spider," he murmured, standing. "Is it the colour? Does he have eight legs? Is he hairy? Does he scuttle about? Do maidens scream when he runs by?"
Estel was giggling by the third question. "No, Gandalf! Don't be silly! I'll draw him for you, then you'll know why!"
"You do that, my boy. Now, tell me. When you were standing in that room with your mouth hanging open, ready to catch flies I've no doubt – did you hear us say anything?"
The twinkle had gone. Estel looks up. He looked even smaller next to the tall, broad-shouldered wizard.
"Yes, Gandalf," he says, unafraid.
"Tell me," the old wizard says, all his attention on my brother.
"Papa said the secret needs to stay hidden. I think that's what he meant. He used more difficult words. Was Legolas there? I didn't have time to see."
"Do you know what he meant?" Gandalf says, pushing the door a little way open with his hand.
"No, Gandalf. I know we keep lots of things safe and secret here. Like that sword. Is that what you're talking about?"
"Secret and safe? Yes, Estel, that is exactly what we have been talking about. Exactly. Now, go with your brother, draw your picture and reveal for me the secret of your pony's name."
"I will!" Estel is happy and free of any guilt for his error. "Come on, Elladan! I have to check something!"
I smile at Gandalf and let Estel drag me back to the stables.
There, Elrohir is leaning over the stall, rubbing Spider's nose.
"Ah. There you both are. I see, Estel. I see."
Estel nods enthusiastically. "I thought I was right!" he says.
Over an hour later he is beginning to be happier with the picture he is now carefully shading. He is back in bed, his impromptu trip to the stable having taxed my father's edict to the absolute limit, but he seems happy enough. He is warm, but not overly so, and he is contented.
Until he remembers something.
"Halbarad?" he says. "I haven't seen him all morning."
"I will enquire," I offer. "And you will stay here. I have sharpened the grey and the brown pencils, so you may finish the colouring. Are you going to put him in the stable?"
"I don't know yet," he says. He is leaning over the paper, looking at it intently. "I'll decide in a minute. I will stay here," he finally says. It is a promise, and those, Estel does not break.
Downstairs, I find Halbarad talking to three people he evidently knows. I speak with them for a few minutes, making certain all is well with the boy, then go to listen in on the meeting Estel interrupted earlier.
"You left him alone?" my father asks, with more than a little disbelief.
"He promised to stay where he was. He is working on the drawing. He is taking great pains over it. Have you made progress?"
"I believe so. Gentlemen?"
I check quickly round the room for Legolas, but he is not there. It is a long way for him to come. He may be here on the morrow.
"Elladan – he has said nothing more about what he heard?" Gandalf is standing, staring out of the window.
"He told you the absolute and complete truth, Gandalf – I am sure of that," I say, though he already knows that is true.
"He must not suspect. But it will become more and more difficult to keep his history and his possible future from him. There are many evil forces at work in the world. They will be searching for him. I know I do not need to say this to you, Elrond, nor to your sons, but it must be said to all here. To keep him safe, he must be kept secret. He said those words himself. He has great powers himself, of perception and thought, and he will soon guess if we give him any clues," Gandalf says, and I feel he is giving one side of the issue weight, that we might all appreciate the dangers.
"Yet you allow Halbarad, a twelve-year old boy who knows at least something of Estel's possible future, to stay here and play with him. The temptation to tell him something will overwhelm the boy." The elf is voicing the concerns or one or two in the group.
"Is he then to be isolated from the world and from boys his own age?" my father asks. "Halbarad is his kin. I will not send him away because he may say something that Estel may question. Already they are captain and lieutenant and Estel finds nothing in this relationship to question. He must learn to lead and the risk we take is small compared to the gain."
"I think," I say quietly, for I am a youngster still to some of people in the room, "I think he must be allowed to be with Halbarad. They are already fast friends. To separate them so soon, and while Estel is not fully recovered, would be a hard judgement on both boys' characters." I mean it, too. They surely cannot be saying Estel must be immured here, never to have contact with his own people because one of them might say something?
Several heads nod in agreement and so it is decided. Halbarad will stay out the month, while Estel becomes strong again, then he will go back to his people. If anything is said then my father will explain as much as needs to be explained, and leave as much as he can unsaid.
Elrond then tells those gathered of Estel's visions and his case is discussed. Most are of the opinion that he will indeed grow out of them, or that they will become some other form of gift. It is Gandalf who ends the discussion.
"I will speak to him. Perhaps I can interpret what he sees. I can at least offer him more reassurance."
My father nods. He has been worried, I know, and to have Gandalf's opinion on the matter will be a help and a comfort to him.
"Let us adjourn the meeting, then. Gandalf, Elladan – let us go and see what Estel has drawn. I confess to some curiosity to know why he has named his new pony as he has. I never did quite understand why his horse was called Ruby."
We go upstairs and I push open the door. Estel sits at his desk, where his books are piled precariously close to the edge to make space for the large piece of paper I gave him. He is holding down the paper with the aid of his broken arm in its wrapping. He has worn the pencil to a stub but it is to good purpose: the picture is almost finished.
"It is not quite right. I don't know how his legs fit on, not exactly," he says, squinting at the paper.
"It's a fine picture," my father says. "You have shaded in his coat wonderfully well."
Estel smiles, pleased with his father's comment, for it has cost him a good many minutes' labour to finish the shading to his satisfaction.
"And really, now that you look at his marking," Gandalf says, going to stand behind Estel, "could the pony be called anything other than Spider?"
Once Gandalf had traced out with his finger the pattern that Estel had so delicately suggested in his drawing, I could see the faint outline of a cobweb-shaped filigree, covering the animal's flank. Neither Elrohir nor I had even noticed it until Estel had shown it to us in the stable.
Estel sits in front of his picture, having it admired by some the most important figures in Middle Earth, yet he is unaware of his place amongst them. In the years to come, perhaps one day he will be truly one of them, but even now they do not eclipse him.
He is becoming tired, though he does not say so. My father makes him take his medicine then leaves to try to become a better host to all the guests who have arrived during the morning.
Once Estel is settled in his chair by the fire, with a blanket over his knees and his drawing pinned up on the wall beside him, Gandalf begins to question him while I hover anxiously.
"Now, my boy. Tell me all about your visions."