Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I make no money from this writing.
My apologies for the gap in posting chapters. It was unavoidable but I hope to be back on track now.
In this chapter, Legolas takes over the account for the first time. Wish him luck!
The house is very quiet this morning. Elrond is resting at last and the household tasks are undertaken with special care to avoid disturbing him.
He has denied himself rest for too long. His care for others outweighs care for himself. I tried to tell him this but he would not listen. His sons needed him and that was enough. But all seems well with them and he must recoup his strength today to be ready for the trial of the days to come.
I had not understood how quickly Estel and I would become friends. Worse, I did not realise how much my leave-taking might upset the boy. Had I known, I might have stayed longer but now I have given my promise and Halbarad will have his escort. I had not thought to return for three or four years but by that time, Estel will be as old as Halbarad.
I believe our lives may be twisted together in some way. I do not have the gift of foresight as do some of my kin, yet I can sometimes glimpse those things that may be. When first I saw Estel, a child of four years, I felt some tie between us which I have felt with no other. Yet then, and now, I misjudged him, laughed at him too easily as he tried to learn everything too quickly and often failed. This time, I have spent many happy hours in his company, watching him find his way in the world, and I marvel at the speed at which he comes to mastery of the tasks he is set, and that he sets himself.
The daylight grows, and I come to fuller consciousness of the world. I am to care for Estel today, keep him out of Elrond's way and occupy him, and Halbarad is to accompany us until his ankle pains him, when he should rest. These are the instructions I was given most carefully before Elrond went to his chamber. Sometimes, I believe he sees me as a child also.
I left Estel to finish his breakfast and came to Elrond's study to read his report of the battle. I had not quite understood how close we came to defeat, for I was too much occupied to see the scene clearly. We must work on our strategy against this foe.
There is a knock at the door.
"Come," I say, taking up the piece of wood for Estel's bow, for I know from the weight of the knock who is outside the room.
The door swings open and Estel steps in. He has been pronounced well but in need of being watched by Elrond. I tried to say that I was unsure what to look for but Elrond was too fatigued to listen. I shall have to rely on Halbarad's judgement. To me, he looks as he did yesterday, though his expression is certainly sad. His first question confirms Elrond's diagnosis.
"Do you have to go so soon?" he asks, in a hoarse voice. I know that his voice will change but I thought that would happen when he is older. I wish I understood edain illness a little more. He is trying to reorganise the fastenings on his jacket, which seem to have become tangled in some way. "You were going to show me the best wood for making bows and I wanted to show you so many things in the gardens and Halbarad leaving too, and as soon as Elladan is better they'll be going too."
"Come, Estel. Come here. Let us not look so far into the future. I can show you the way to pick the right wood this morning, then this afternoon we will make this wood into a bow. There is plenty of time yet." I kneel in front of him then move his hands from his ties and begin to unknot them but he bats me away with a grimace.
"I can do it!"
I hold my hands away and wait while he struggles but all he does is tighten the knots.
"I shall have to cut them if you do not let me help you," I say.
He drops his arms. "All right," he says, biting his lip.
It takes all my dexterity to tease out the leather ties but it is done with no further comment from him.
"Why are you wearing this jacket in the house?" I ask idly. I must learn never to ask Estel idle questions.
"Papa used to get someone to put out my clothes for me but I told him that was babyish so ever since then he's let me choose my own stuff only it's not very interesting so I often think about things when I'm dressing and I don't always know what I've put on."
Thinking he has finished, I stand, but the flow of the explanation continues.
"I want to look like a ranger now, so I am practising wearing this coat which really belongs to Halbarad and I'm going to ask someone to make me a copy of it in my size so that I can wear it all the time."
Rather than interrupt, I steer the boy toward the front door.
"It has these slits up the side, I think they're for when you're riding a horse but they let in the cold air and I think when you're swinging a sword you'd have to be careful so they don't get wound round your sword arm. It would be annoying to have that happen, wouldn't it! Has that ever happened to you?"
"No, Estel, I don't believe it has."
"Legolas? Can I tell you something?"
"Yes," I say, wondering why he needs my permission.
"I don't feel very well."
"Do you wish to stay indoors? It is quite windy outside."
"No. I just thought I had better tell you. Papa always says to tell people if I don't feel well. He says elves don't understand about the ways we become ill."
"Make sure you are wrapped warmly, then. Is Halbarad joining us?"
Estel open his mouth to speak but a cheerful voice answers before the boy can say anything.
"Wait for me!" Halbarad comes down the stairs, walking carefully but not limping badly. "I wouldn't miss this lesson for anything! Why are you wearing my coat, Captain?" he says. It seems Halbarad has taken to using this as Estel's name.
Estel immediately starts to take it off but Halbarad stops him. "I shall be warm enough. Keep it."
Estel nods and looks at me, his eyes wide in anticipation of the adventure to come.
So we all three go outside. First we go to see the tree, which is not being eaten today and has grown a little more. Estel records the details in the book he keeps in the glasshouse.
"I'll see to Spider this afternoon," he says, clearing his throat again. "Can we start the lesson now?"
"Are you well?" I hear Halbarad quietly asking his friend.
"I'm all right. If I don't get this lesson today I won't get it for years!" Estel snuffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve.
That may well be so. I must give this lesson now. I am sure they are both well enough to be out for an hour at least.
We wander into the woodland and I begin to tell them some of the facts they must know.
"You may use wood from any tree," I say, standing by a dark yew. "But some make better bows than others. This tree is older than you can understand, Estel. It is a sacred tree, in its own way, and you must be sure that the wood is used well. We shall not start here, for you will make errors as you practise."
Estel puts his hand against the trunk of the tree and looks up into its canopy.
"How could I cut a piece from such a tree, Legolas?" he says.
Halbarad comes to stand by him. "We have ceremonies for the cutting of live trees," he says. "We take what we need, no more, and we have found ways to cut that do little harm. We coppice some trees, which throw up new trunks each year and so are not killed by our needs."
"Your people are wise," I say. "The tree whose limb you rob thoughtlessly will be your enemy always. The wood will not make a good bow. Now," I say, leading the boys further into the wood. We travel slowly to accommodate Halbarad, who is still limping. Estel is trailing a little behind, looking carefully at all the trees we pass. I know he will have been taught their names. Now I must show him how to find a limb he may cut.
"Do you have two knives with you?" I ask.
"I have one," Estel says. "I keep it in my belt. I sharpen it every day."
"You will need two. We must find a way for you to carry two easily and safely. It would not do for you to fall on one of your own knives. When you begin to carry a sword, perhaps there will be a way for you to carry a small knife within the sheath." I begin to plan how this might be done. "Do you carry a small knife in this way?" I ask Halbarad."
"We carry a small knife in the belt," he says. "And a larger one at our backs."
"Then I shall make a sheath for Estel that will have a new design," I say. "Now, here is a good tree for you to study. See if you can pick out the branch that has the best shape for bow-making."
Estel sneezes and wipes his hand on his sleeve. I manage to refrain from comment. He moves slowly round the tree, testing each limb. "Is it better to have a living branch or a dead one?" he asks, pushing against one limb and making it bend back.
"We could use green wood but it will be heavy to draw. We will use dead wood but it must not be dead too long, or it will be too brittle. See, you have four choices. Tell me about each one."
"This one," says Estel, pausing to sneeze again, "is very thin, no more than the thickness of my little finger. The one next to it is thicker." He reaches up as high as he can then runs his hands down the branch. "But it has lumps and breaks and has not grown straight. This is better," he says as he moves round the tree. "I would ask the tree for this one, I think." He nods, testing the branch again.
"That is a good choice," I approve. "But the last one is better. The one you are holding has a knot in a critical place. All bows break eventually, Estel, even those of Elven make, but that would break sooner rather than later."
Estel sneezes a third time. He sniffs loudly but continues to compare the limb he chose with the one I chose. At last he nods. "Yes, I see. I think I do."
"Your eye will tell you, in time. You will simply know which is the right branch to take."
Halbarad moves closer to Estel. "When I visit again, I'll teach you the ceremony we use. Then if you have words from Legolas and words from me, surely no tree will ever refuse you a limb for a bow."
"Oh – yes!" he says, as he moves on to the next tree. "Let me try and see if I get it right this time."
We spend the next few minutes considering a number of trees. I begin to show him that it is a good idea to bend smaller branches from the tree, to test its resilience, and to see which side of the limb will become the back and which the belly of the bow. Finally, I take the wood I have brought and we settle on the ground in a circle. Both boys have lengths of wood of their own, chosen carefully from trees. I asked the trees properly and they gave willingly to my apprentices.
I show them the long, even cuts to make down the belly of the bow. Strips of wood begin to fall to the ground as we shave off the extra wood to find to shape of the stave. I make sure both boys hold the branches the right way up. The tree's spirit will work with the bow then, not against it.
Estel works hard, holding his knife in the way I have shown him and cutting with great care away from himself. It is a hard task, requiring some strength in the fingers and forearms especially, and his concentration seems a little uncertain. But by midday we all three have staves, the boys' moderately workable, and we have tested the way they bend.
I cut nocks in each stave for them, while they sit and watch intently, eagerly asking questions as the work proceeds. I brought bowstrings with me and before long, the boys are twanging the strings, listening to the fine noise they make then running round the trees, pretending to sight prey and kill it. They are laughing and carefree, and I remember feeling as they did when, a long while gone, my father taught me to make my first bow. It is like no other moment, when you realise you have the power to make an instrument which may kill another creature. For the boys it is still a game. When I teach them about making arrows, I will try to help them to understand that it is not a game. But for the moment, they play.
The wind begins to blow a little stronger. It is time for us to go in. Estel has come to stand by me. He is breathing hard and still smiling. His sneezing fit seems to have passed but he still sounds harsh-voiced.
"How do you feel?" I ask. "Are you still unwell?"
"I don't think so," he says. "I hadn't thought about it. I'm hungry though."
"Then let us go and eat. Unstring the bows if you can."
Halbarad manages his. Estel only needs a little help.
We march back to the house in single file, the boys making enough noise to frighten every possible target for their bows for miles around. Estel leads us, Halbarad follows him and I form the rearguard. It has been a good morning. I wish we could have many such mornings, the two boys and I, for there is much woodcraft they need to learn. But it is enough for one morning.
As we go into the house and are met by the warmth and light of Elrond's home, Estel sneezes three times in quick succession.
A figure stands on the stairs. The master of the house waits for us.
"Tell me, Estel," he says gravely. "What have I said about telling people you are unwell?"
The boy looks up in confusion. "Papa, I did as you said. I told Legolas." He coughs, and the sound concerns me. Why did I not understand what he told me? I have never had a sickness which makes you cough and sneeze, and turns your voice into a shadow of itself.
"You must go to your room. We must keep you warm."
Estel struggles out of his coat. "I don't have to go to bed, do I?" he says, grimacing. "I am so tired of being in bed. It's not my fault. I did tell Legolas."
Elrond moves to stand by his son. He takes him by the hand. "Come. We'll have a game of strategy, you and I. And please, Estel, do not use your sleeve to wipe your nose. How often have I told you that?"
So they go up the stairs, hand in hand, foster-father with foster-son, and Halbarad and I are left to our own devices. I hope I have not harmed Estel by not realising that his illness needed treatment. I do what I can to ensure Halbarad is warm, well-fed and happy before I venture to check on Estel.
I push open the door to the boy's bedroom. The fire burns brightly. The room is warm and bright with a sun that shone only fitfully this morning. Estel is sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring at the board and the pieces Gandalf gave him. The boy looks flushed but plays with concentration. Gradually, however, he begins to droop, settling himself deeper into his chair. He is soon asleep.
"He is not well," Elrond says, a note of irritation in his voice. "Yet you took him outside all morning into the cold."
I do not know what to say. I cared for him, gave him useful knowledge and kept him from danger. The boy seemed well enough to me and did not complain once. How am I to know if he is ill?
"Then you must teach me and must learn," I say, feeling a little downcast at my failure. "And I shall tend him while he is ill."
Elrond looks at me, the trouble in his mind lending his face the stern expression I see there all too often. He seems about to speak but hesitates, some thought working in his mind. Suddenly he sighs.
"I apologise, Legolas. I am blaming you for a fault I find in myself. I ignored him yesterday when he told me he was unwell. I do not think it will be much. He says his throat is sore and you have heard him sneezing. With some rest I am sure he will be well again soon. Come, sit with him while I make him something to soothe him. Then I will see if there is some underlying problem that is undermining his health."
I nod. I understand his care for the boy, who has curled himself up in his chair and sleeps, snuffling, with his mouth open and his hand to his forehead. I shall learn about him, learn all I can. This morning's mistake will not be made again.
(A/N I should like to thank a wonderful gentleman called Longbow, whose page I consulted on the making of bows. He very kindly gave me his permission to use whatever I wanted from his beautiful description of making bows in the wild. Some of what he said was so strikingly like what I imagined Legolas might have said that I was unsure what to do with the information. Perhaps I should have directed everyone to the site and just left you to read it! But I have done my best to weave the information and the clear, direct style of its original writer into the text of this chapter. Thank you, Longbow, aka Alton L.Safford, sincerely.)