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Elrond.
We are in an impossible situation. I put Estel behind me and back away, trying to control the power of my anger with my son. So foolish. So dangerously foolish.
"Why did you not stay in the tree?" I say, or perhaps I hiss at him.
I can feel my little son clutch my tunic but he says nothing. Elladan looks at me, his eyes wide. Perhaps he thinks we are safe, but we are not.
The men, re-grouping, come cautiously closer but I continue to retreat. Legolas breaks away, takes a place wide to my right and I see he has nocked an arrow.
"Do you want the boy so badly that you will risk death for him?" I ask, with as much bravado as I can muster.
"Papa!" I hear behind me. I can spare him no pity; my anger burns brightly.
One man steps forward.
"Where are you going, old one?" he says. "Are you planning to walk into the river and float away? The little one might drown if you do."
I take a few more steps back, forcing Estel back too. And yes, I wonder where we are going.
We have one hope but that is still faint. I must begin the slaughter if they do not leave us alone. I give an order to Legolas and he nods.
"What did you say to him?" the leader demands. He is holding his arm and his hand is bloody.
"You cannot take the boy. You will all die, and you will not have what you want," I say, trying to reason with men who have gone past such tactics.
"We outnumber you ten to one. You think this elf can nock arrows fast enough to kill us all? I have bowmen too. We could kill you now."
"What will the boy be worth if we are gone? He is my foster son but beyond that, he is just a small boy, of no consequence to anyone."
At this, the man looks puzzled. Perhaps if I can buy us just a little more time.
"Then we will kill the one who keeps so close to you." It has not taken him long to consider his answer and before I can think of my own reply an arrow flies. Elladan steps aside hastily and the arrow narrowly misses him.
"I have men behind you. Do you want them to make you dance?"
Elladan turns. "I can see only two, Father," he whispers.
"They are barely five to one, not the ten to one he boasts," I say but I know it is enough. "Come, child. Stand in front of me. Why did you leave the tree?" It is not the time to ask but he needs something to occupy him. He is shaking so badly I fear he will not be able to remain on his feet.
He stands in front of me and I pull him closer, holding him by his shoulders.
"I got us into a lot of trouble, didn't I, Papa," he says.
"Our position is not strong, my child. But I believe it will be stronger soon. There, do you hear them?"
I feel him tense as he tries to concentrate. The fear leaves him a little when he hears the sound I have been hearing for a few minutes now.
"It's the hounds, Papa! Where are they?"
"They bring help, Estel. When I tell you, make yourself as small as you can and stay where you are. Do you understand?
"Stop speaking that gibberish!" our enemy calls. He is moving forward now, and Legolas responds by drawing his bow, waiting for my signal.
"I will tell you what I said in the common tongue, if you wish, but my boy speaks better Sindarin and I wished him to understand me. I told him to make himself small and to stay where he was. Do you know why I said that?" I do not like this parleying. I prefer straight talk. But this is necessary, for a few more moments.
"No. I neither know nor care. Now hand him over, or we will kill your companions, then you. Someone will pay something for him. Perhaps the dangerous old woman who lives over the mountains. They say she is some relation of yours. We use her to frighten children into behaving themselves."
He may talk himself to death, this one. It angers me to hear him speak of Galadriel in this way, but that is his intention. I must not allow my anger to lead me into error. I know Estel does not wish it, but it is not his choice. If men choose to die, who am I to stop them? I cannot make men do things they choose not to do. Since Isildur would not do as I told him, I have never tried to force men onto the right path.
There – a movement in the trees, and it begins. Time slows. Each movement I see, as I try to protect Estel.
The hounds leap into the open, splitting from each other and tracking two men, taking them down soundlessly. Behind them, Elrohir, a short bow in his hand, not his own, but he uses it to deadly effect and the man who had been so intent on having what he wanted has death handed to him. He falls, and I push Estel to the ground.
"Stay there!" I say, waiting for the assault and watching as one man, then another, comes to test my skill with a sword. I am hurt but I am not disabled from battle, and they stagger away, having learned what it is to face me. I glance at Legolas, now putting his bow to the ground, and I see two men with arrows in their chests. Now he too is fighting at close quarters, three men against him, but they will not survive the encounter. They do not understand what it is to face the Prince of Mirkwood. None of them understands what they do, yet they have had enough chances to learn.
Estel is curled at my feet, his face hidden by his arms, and I kneel to him and place my hand on his back. To my left, Elladan is standing, breathing hard, one man at his feet, another close by. Yet still they come, more and still more to this awful place, and I must stand and fight until only a few are left. The air still rings with their cries, and with the sound of metal on metal when the last few regard us. Sun glints off leaves splashed with blood.
Estel was right, in a way. The attack was futile, though we did not invite it and would have avoided it, if we could have done. What is it that has made them so determined? Are they so impoverished, or so desperate for wealth, that they would risk death to take Estel?
I lean on my sword, not so much tired as filled with despair for the race of men.
"Will you give me leave to take my son home now?" I ask, bitterness in my speech such as I have not felt since Celebrían was brought home to me. I hear Elladan breathing heavily, and Estel's sobs. He sounds as he did when his mother left him alone, two long years ago.
"Aye, we will let you," calls one man, who has been lingering near the back of the assault. His clothes are finer than the rest and I deem him the leader of the group. "These men are a small number of my people. Take your boy home and keep him safe, Elrond Peredhil, for we will be watching for him always. There are some who say you keep a great treasure in Imladris, and I shall have it from you yet."
Then he turns and walks into the trees, and the men who are still whole help the wounded away.
Elrohir comes hurrying to us, whistling up the hounds as he does. He is tired, and his clothes are wet. A bruise on the side of his forehead tells me why he did not come back to us sooner, but he seems well. I am feeling more tired now, for the blood I have lost is stealing my strength.
The brothers shake hands, then Elrohir begins to bind his brother's arm. It is not a bad wound but it is bleeding. Legolas, who had run after the retreating men, comes back to us. He is unscathed but his expression is dark.
"They are leaving but we must return to safety as soon as we can. The Rangers who came with us have gone to fetch the tethered horses. As soon as we may, we must be away from this evil place."
I take Estel's arm and encourage him to sit up. He will not meet my eye, nor will he speak to me. He needs comfort, but the fight lingers in my blood and I cannot forget the moment he broke from safety and ran into the heart of danger.
"Estel. Come now. We will soon be back in the camp. Or we will go home. Which do you wish?"
But he will not answer, and stands, the tears coursing down his face, though he is silent now. There is something disturbing him greatly, something beyond his power to control, and I am afraid he is lost once again to a vision. But then he looks up at me, his eyes bright with conflicting emotions.
"I wanted to stop it, Papa," he says, quietly. "I wanted to stop it and look!" Now his voice grows louder, and he steps away from me. "I don't understand why it couldn't be stopped! Always and always, I do things wrong and people die! I wish – I wish I had stayed in the tree, but then I could not. I don't understand! I don't understand!"
He is frantic now, and jumps away from me when I try to reach him. He runs to one of the bodies of the men who died trying to take the greatest treasure in Imladris, which, if they did but know it, is this small boy, staring down into the face of death.
"Wake up!" he shouts, his voice becoming harsher. "Wake up! Why did you have to die? I want to know!"
It is Legolas who moves to his side and takes his hand, gently speaking to him, then leading him away. I see where he is being taken – back to the tree where he had been hiding. There, Legolas lays his hand on the tree and suddenly, Estel hugs the trunk, and is quiet.
"Aldalómë consented to speak to the boy," Elladan said. "I hoped he would be able to keep him safe. But it seems none of us can keep him entirely safe. What are we to do, Father? Take him back to his Ranger family? He still needs to be healed by them, or his visions will consume him. Back to Imladris? We could try to cure him there."
The world is beginning to fade. I am weaker now, and I reach out for Elladan, whose questions puzzle me, for I have no answer.
I hear his hushed, "Father!" then sink to the ground. I am not lucky today. Estel sees me and comes rushing back. His face is black and tear-streaked and now he is scared again.
"Papa!" he says, and falls to his knees in front of me. "They hurt you! I can feel it!" And he puts his hand to my side, where the arrow entered me, oh, some time ago now. I know he must not do this, for he will try to heal me.
So I push him away, with an angry, "No!" and I watch his expression, his hurt, his shock.
"Take care of him," I say to my twin boys, my firstborn, then I yield to the dark.