"Tell me how your visions are different from your dreams, Estel," Gandalf instructs, settling back in his own chair. He is sitting in a shaded corner, effacing himself, to give Estel licence to speak.
"They come in the day, Gandalf," the boy says, looking at the wizard. "I lose myself, and I can't see what's around me, and my head feels – odd."
"Do you feel faint? Unwell? Frightened?" Gandalf prompts, trying, I suppose, to find a word to give Estel so that he may describe his symptoms correctly.
"Not frightened. Not exactly. Puzzled," Estel says, his face reflecting that puzzlement. "A bit faint. I fainted once, didn't I, Elladan?"
I nod, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts.
"I feel silly afterwards," he confesses. "I don't like it happening."
It is Gandalf's turn to nod. He does not try to tell Estel he should not feel like this, though I would have done.
"Tell me if there are any visions which you have seen more than once," Gandalf says. He is leaning forward now, his elbow on the arm of the chair and his hand supporting his chin.
"I don't remember them very well, not the ones I had when I was little. But I remember being up high, higher than I have ever been, and looking down on many thousands of beings, and they are so small. They are like the wood ants, in their nest – you know, Gandalf, those big piles of sticks and things they make, and that noise as they move about in there?"
"Yes, my boy, I know. Go on."
"And I can see a very long way. I am standing on something like a mountain or a cliff. It's hard beneath my feet and the wind is blowing. It is not safe there yet I want to stay and watch – watch over all the people."
"Do you see mountains in the distance?"
"Sometimes. A long, long way away. Blue and grey. Pointed."
"Yes. And is there anyone standing nearby?"
"Not very often. Sometimes, I think someone very tall is standing near me, and then sometimes lots of people, and they have swords and spears. And then it's very noisy, people shouting, and I don't want to be there. Gandalf! I don't like the visions then. I don't like what I see. I don't want to talk about it any more." Estel finishes in a breathless rush, his fingers anxiously gripping the blanket on his knees. He has become upset very quickly and I want to go and comfort him but Gandalf has not finished with him yet.
"Do you sense evil?" he says. Estel looks ready to spring from his seat but this is important, I know. He must try to answer.
"Yes," says a quiet, calm voice I do not at first recognise. "There is evil, Gandalf. It searches for me. It cannot reach inside these walls but I felt it when I went down the river. It is a great evil." The boy gasps, and Gandalf reaches forward, gathering him in his arms as the boy tries to breathe.
"There, there, Estel. You have done enough. You have done well. Quietly now."
My brother begins to breathe normally again and looks around him as if he has forgotten where he is.
"Gandalf?" he says, his voice tremulous. "I don't know …"
"It is all right," the old wizard says, kneeling now at the boy's feet. It is an extraordinary thing to see. "These visions will fade as you grow. You do not need to worry about their meaning. Just experience them, and remember them. Now," he says, smiling. "I think you have earned a reward."
My brother is recovering. For a moment, I had heard a near-grown man in the resolve and power of his words. Yet when Gandalf stands, Estel is still a little boy, a tired one, but not frightened or exhausted.
"A reward?" he says, re-settling himself in his chair.
"Stay here, child. I will fetch it for you."
He nods. As Gandalf leaves the room I go over to my brother and give him a glass of water. He drinks thirstily.
"You know you are safe here?" I ask.
"Yes. Papa and you and Elrohir, you won't let anything bad happen to me."
"No, we won't. Not while you are here." And when you are not here, we will still try to keep you safe. But that is in the future.
Gandalf returns, carrying a satchel.
"We need Halbarad," Gandalf says. "Would you invite him here?" he asks me. "And if you would, ask Elrond if I may speak to him later." I feel a moment's disappointment – I wanted to see Estel's reaction to whatever gift Gandalf has brought for him. But I do as I am asked.
Halbarad is still with his friends but does not take much persuading to join Estel. I go to find my father, since it seems Gandalf does not immediately need me, and we talk for a short while before he returns to talk to the latest arrivals. I am lost for something to do for a moment, then feel someone standing behind me and the touch of a hand on my shoulder.
"Legolas!" I say, laughing and swinging round to try to catch him. He is not so easily taken and steps calmly backward.
"Elladan." He is smiling, a quirky grin. "Are you getting slow, Elladan Half-Elven?"
"Slower than you, Legolas Greenleaf? Ah – I admit it. You made good time to get here this afternoon."
"I was already on my way with news for your father. When I saw others journeying here, I made more haste. How is Estel?"
"He has been unwell but is improving rapidly. He will overwhelm you with tales of his adventures. He has a broken arm and a new pony."
Legolas' eyebrows gave away his surprise. "What happened to Ruby?"
We are moving towards Estel's room as we speak, Legolas unbuckling the harness which carried his knives.
"It was an event which caused him much sorrow."
"Then he shall have my full attention as he tells me all about it." He stops for a moment. "I wish to put away my gear before I enter his room."
So it is a few minutes before we walk together down the last corridor, speaking of nothing in particular.
"No!" A shout from his room hastens our steps. "No! You shall not take me! I shall fight you to the last drop of my blood!" It is Estel.
"My captain!" Halbarad, as loud and as full-blooded as Estel. "You have my sword! I am with you!"
Legolas is a step in front of me. He is intent. If anyone is attacking the two boys he will be merciless. He stops dead in his tracks by the door.
Then he laughs.
I come to stand beside him. There, on the floor, three figures, all cross-legged. The two boys sit together, while Gandalf sits opposite them.
"Ah! Greenleaf comes to my rescue," Gandalf says, hardly glancing at Legolas. "It is hardly fair, two warriors against one old man. Sit here and defend me!"
"Halbarad! We need reinforcements. How many do we have in reserve?" Estel says, smiling at Legolas but not breaking the flow of the game they are playing.
"There is but one, sir. A poor, broken-down fellow he is, but he may serve."
"Are you referring to me?" I ask, stepping forward. "Then I am honoured, lords, and I shall serve to the best of my ability, poor though that may be." I bow. Estel looks at me and grins broadly, before taking up the die and shaking it in his cupped hands. He throws the die.
"Six!" he shouts triumphantly, and begins to move beautifully carved, ancient pieces across a board which is lying flat on the floor. I know the game, one of strategy and warfare, and I can immediately see that Estel is winning. "We have you nearly surrounded, Gandalf! Even Legolas cannot help you now. Hello, Legolas," he says suddenly, dropping back into his own character for a moment.
"Hello, Estel," says Legolas. "I think you may be right. Gandalf – do you think it might be time for a strategic retreat?"
Gandalf growled, "Nonsense," but his pieces are falling fast. With cheers from the two boys, which I heartily join in, though I have done nothing to help, Gandalf gathers the die into his hand and rolls a two. He is lost. There is no hope for him, whatever strategy he chooses. He sighs and knocks his pieces over, the signal for defeat.
"You play well, boys," Gandalf says, easing himself to his feet and back to his chair. "Too well for me."
But just as we are all congratulating Estel, my brother gets up and goes to Gandalf. He has a very serious look on his face.
"Gandalf," he says. He stands with his good arm behind his back. "I believe you allowed me to win."
There is silence. I have little doubt that Estel is right.
"Yes, I allowed you to win, Estel. For a purpose. Can you guess what that purpose is?"
"No. I can't," the boy says moodily, as if his victory means little to him now.
"Do you think you will always win battles yourself, with no help?" Gandalf asks. "Do you think that if you have to share a victory it is not worth having?"
"Halbarad helped me – I'll gladly share the victory with him!" he says.
"Sometimes, those you count as an enemy will help you to victory. You must learn to be grateful for it, and indeed to seek to bring your enemies onto your side. I know, boy, it is a hard lesson for you, and you have had a few of those in the last few days, but I hope you will consider what I have said. Your visions come from the past and the future. You will be in a high place one day, and will look down on others. Will you see them only as friends and enemies? What will happen to those who have opposed you and lost, Estel? Will you put them to the sword? Will you take away their lands and their dignity?"
Gandalf is speaking in earnest now, and the strength of his voice has grown as he speaks. Estel seems to be standing in his shadow, uncertain, even afraid.
"Will you be able to allow them to sacrifice themselves for you?"
"You have been speaking to Papa, haven't you. About me running away."
"Yes, my boy, I have. You should not have done so, though no one here will upbraid you for it. You have a great deal to learn, a great many hard questions to answer, before you are ready to go out into the world. Do you understand that?"
"Yes. Yes. I think I do. Though I do not know the answers to your questions."
"That's all right, Estel. I do not think I know the answers either, at present. You and I may have to learn the answers together. Come, we have time for a few tricks before you must rest. You will come down to supper tonight, for a short while. Wear your best clothes and stand next to your Papa, and be admired. There now, don't blush like that. Legolas, bring that tray here."
Legolas does as he is told and holds the metal tray firmly. Gandalf places something on the tray and grabs a spill from beside the fire. He lights it then touches it to the tiny pyramid. There is a bright light, a strong smell and then the pyramid throws out tiny red and yellow and blue sparks.
Estel gasps. He has never seen Gandalf's indoor fireworks. We gather in the darkening room to watch snakes crawl from little black pellets, and a tiny, fiery butterfly climb into the air out of a brown cocoon, all created by Gandalf.
Too soon, it is over. Gandalf is gone, taking Halbarad with him.
Estel has been leaning against me. He looks up, his face full of wonder. "Was anything ever as wonderful as that?" he asks.
"Come. Let us get you ready. You can tell Legolas all about Spider if you like."
"Yes. I will. But Elladan – I have so much to think about! I want to know the answers to those questions he asked."
As we get him ready, Estel chatters to Legolas, making my job of helping him rather more difficult than usual.
"We buried Ruby down by the river," he says. "I'll take you there tomorrow, if you want."
"I would be honoured," says Legolas. "He was a noble horse."
"I broke my arm when I fell in the water." Estel holds out his arm for inspection. Legolas checks the bindings for him and nods.
"It will be well soon, Estel. Then I will give you some more lessons with your bow. You will need to pull carefully for a month or so yet but we can strengthen your muscles in your back, here, and in your shoulder, without disturbing the bone."
"Come, Estel, let me slip this on," I say, holding out his tunic. He puts his arms in the air and disappears into the garment, emerging and shaking his hair off his face. I begin to fasten the ties but Legolas takes over.
"He must wear his circlet," he says.
"It doesn't fit," Estel grumbles. "It's getting too small!"
Legolas ties the last fastening then looks at the circlet, trying it on Estel's head. It is true that it was made for a smaller child. Legolas takes it in his hands.
"It was made to grow with you, you know. Watch." He takes it in hands that seem too delicate for any task requiring strength. Yet under their pressure the metal moves, the pattern of wires changing subtly, and now it fits. I had forgotten this trick of elvish smith-work.
"Now we had better braid your hair," Legolas says, though his glance tells me he is teasing the boy.
"No! I'm not waiting while you do that! There are people downstairs and I want to meet lots of them!"
Neither Legolas nor I could have persuaded him except by holding him still and forcing him. I did insist on brushing his hair until it gleamed and he was pulling such faces I thought he would scream if I continued.
Legolas laughs gently at him, yet he is another who would die rather than see any harm come to my brother. We shall keep him safe while he tries to find his way through to the truth of the world. Gandalf and my father lead him and I have my own vision of them, one on either side, drawing him forward carefully into the darkness, as Elrohir and Legolas and I defend him.
I do not know his future. I tell myself he will be king, yet I cannot always believe it. Yet, as he chatters to us and remembers all we tell him about people, I cannot refrain from adding, in my thoughts, the idea that these are his people.
Gandalf has begun to point him towards the moral questions he must, in the long term, resolve for himself. Yet this interest in people – that comes from a heart that is true and honest and open.
I hope against hope that he will always be so.
When he stands for his final inspection, dressed in dark green tunic and leggings, his circlet shining against his dark hair, my vision of him sharpens. He travels into a dark future, but he does not travel alone.
"Go on, Estel," says Legolas. "Best foot forward!"
Estel looks doubtfully at his feet but it is only a hesitation. He is soon on his way, leading us to the hall and to the next step in his journey.