Chapter Twenty-four: Ice and Fire

Days followed one upon the other, each one shorter, colder, and less colored. It began to snow on the high ridges, and puffs of freezing mountain breath came down into Imladris itself. Doors and windows were shut and curtained, fires burned all day in the sleeping quarters, and the great blaze in the Hall of Fire was twice what it had been all through the autumn season.

This was winter, then, cold enough but far less than the bitter sweeping winter that covered the moors of Eriador. Not always snow, actually more seldom, but invariably sheets and sheets of steadily falling rain.

Gilraen sighed, hugging herself under the thick fur wrap. Winter was the time of her most lengthy and detailed memories. Arathorn home from the field, there was little work to do. Crops had been harvested, meat had been smoked, fuel for a thousand fires piled up in little rooms behind the kitchens, all needs and wants considered in good time and made ready for… thus she remembered the winters of the Dúnedain.

She wandered slowly along the hall to the kitchen, but stopped before reaching the doorway. A burst of laughter seemed to push her away: she had no heart for mirth, but even less desire to dampen that of others. She turned quietly and went back, drifting finally into the Hall of Fire.

A great fire crackled in the hearth, but there was no one in the vast chamber. She pulled a large, plump chair up to the grate and sank her body into its soft depths while her mind went eagerly into the orange-yellow flames.

"Are you there?" she asked softly. He answered not, but she felt he was. "I am here in search of you, love, for I cannot find joy in life without you." She stared on into the fire, but a feeling invaded her: that if she closed her eyes, she would feel his arms come around her, and his warm breath on her neck.

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over, but she held her gaze to the fire. She knew well the way of the sprites that mesmerized the will and caused eyelids to droop, and weakened one's resolve. Vain promises in the darkened sight, vanished as eyes came eagerly open in search of the heart's desire. Her mother, and her mother's mother, as well as Lynael and Larat, all had trained her in the art of fire-gazing, so she was more than warned against the tiny enemies that came out of the skin striving against the tasks of concentration, perception and projection.

Far from the Hall and its blazing fire, Estel clambered down the path from the high chamber of Elladan and Elrohir. The twins had taken him up with them to fetch a bundle of metal weapons, mostly arrowheads, some knives and swords, and several other pieces all wrapped and tucked into three knapsacks, two large and one small. There was no fire in the high chamber, although a hearth was not lacking. "We need no fire," Elrohir had said shortly when Estel inquired.

"Ice-cold is a great force and mystery of Arda," said Elladan in explanation. "We must hold it in great awe, but not fear or hate it. Great lessons are to be learned from it."

"I am not very cold," said Estel brightly. "Look…" He blew clouds of his breath and laughed. "There is fire in me, and comes out smoke!"

"Fire and smoke?" laughed Elrohir. "In a way, you are not so far off the mark."

They had taken up their packs and begun the descent, stopping here and there to behold the splendid views of the winter valley. The snow, they noted, was creeping down the mountainside. Before the once-around of Tilion, it will have reached the gardens. "There will be ice around the riverbanks," said Elladan.

Estel stopped a moment and squatted to inspect a flash that had caught his eye in the dry grass. He parted the stems carefully and revealed a round shiny white stone. "Like the pretty face of Isil," the child said happily, looking up at his cousins. "I would take it for my pocket," he added, patting his side where his pouch hung from his belt, "may I?"

Elrohir nodded and Elladan moved close to better appraise it. "It is not, as I thought, a fragment, Elrohir. It is a piece in itself. And I will not err in saying that it has known the hand of an artisan, certainly long ago."

"But what are the ages to a crystal seed such as this," concurred his twin, "that can lay in waiting under sun and stars until another hand takes it up once more."

"My little hand…! Is it not so, cousins mine?" Estel's twinkling eyes jumped from face to face to the stone on his palm. He ran a fingertip over the smooth surface, cleaning away bits of clinging soil, then turned it over to examine the nether side.

It was, in truth, a preciously-worked jewel of milky white. The size of a hazelnut, it was not a true orb but rather flattened on one face and more rounded on the other. The twins could not say what matter of crystal it was, with its cloudy blue radiance from the heart; but their destination at this time was precisely the place where an answer could be had.

"Come, Estel," said Elrohir, "we will show your pretty stone to Master Aülean. He will surely tell us what there is to know about it."

The child pocketed the isil-stone, as he had named it, and took up his pace between the two tall elves along the narrow path. They stopped at a sharp turn and stepped onto a smaller track forking away which Estel had not seen. His eyes widened and ears pricked up as he followed in Elladan's footsteps, attentive to all signs and marks around them. "I believe this child will never be lost," Elrohir thought with a smile, watching the little woodsman-pup register the sights and sounds of the path to the smithies. It was something of a wild path, he admitted. As the Master wills.

A final curtain of brush seemed to block their way, but Elladan slipped around and lifted it enough for his brother to pass. Estel hardly needed so, as his short stature was barely the height of the curtain's ragged bottom edge. He passed without a thought, much more taken with the wide cave-mouth opened now before them. An elf unknown to him sat by the entrance, but he was soon put at ease by the comradely salutation exchanged with the twins.

Elrohir spoke further. "This is Deimeron, little cousin. He is of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain of long-ago Eregion. This, Master Deimeron, is our young Dúnadan kinsman. We have come to present him to the Mírdain smiths and to pay our respects to Master Aülean. And we bring some work for us to do, under the guidance of your lordships."

"You are ever welcome here, Sons of Elrond. And the little Dúnadan, we have heard something of his coming. I remember a short time ago, the sire of this one learning at our forges," the elf-smith said, scrutinizing Estel.

"He has passed," said Elladan briefly. "The boy is now fostered in Imladris."

"There is news, I see," said Deimeron. "But it can wait. Enter now, and take the boy to the forges. The Master is within."

Elladan took the boy's hand and stepped into the cave-mouth. Once inside, a short passage led winding into an antechamber carved beautifully from the living rock. Estel's eyes opened wider than ever, taking in the glitter and beauty above them, but it was a lantern glowing with a pale blue light that captured his attention completely.

He drew a finger towards it carefully, gauging its hotness, and finally touched the crystal encasement. He looked back at his kinsmen and said smiling, "Not hot."

"Come," said Elrohir. "There are wonders uncounted awaiting you." Estel gave a final stare into the depths of the lantern, and turned to follow the twins. They passed from one passageway to another, deep into the mountain, and nowhere was darkness ensconced. The same blue light ran throughout the halls, picking out the glitter of innumerable jewels set everywhere, bouncing off curves and angles of polished stone, and melting into artifacts and embossments of shining perfect metals, yellow, white, red, and a deeper blue.

Estel moved once again in tow, as he would have stayed for time untold following with his eyes the flow of brilliant beauty that seemed to go on and on into countless halls and chambers. Elladan steered him patiently, pointing out details he thought the child would especially take to. They finally came to a great chamber, an immense cavern whose ceiling did, at last, give way to shadows.

Estel pulled at Elladan's sleeve. "More big than the Hall of Fire," he whispered. The tall elf nodded agreement.

A balustrade wrought in stone vines and flowers set off a circular space illuminated by a peculiar light, the source of which could not be discerned. An old elf standing in thought before a large table of polished stone was instantly aware of the intrusion in his sanctum. His glance took in the twin sons of Elrond and a tiny mortal swinging from the hand of one of them. "Elladan," he confirmed to himself as they approached.

"Revered Master," said the other, Elrohir, as they bowed as one before the Elder. The boy followed suit, bowing in clumsy grace as tiny children will. "We bring greetings from our Lord, and some work we would finish under your guidance, providing you can devote some time to us."

"Time is of no meaning to me, Sons of Elrond," he said, his voice echoing into the unseen heights of the chamber. Estel was impressed into unmoving silence. "The little Dúnadan," said Aülean in a manner of question, "early for his training at the forges. You are welcome. The great fires are not yet stoked."

"This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn," said Elrohir quietly to the old Master, "known among us now by the name of Estel. His presence here is known by very few, and the circumstance of his sire's passing."

"Come, child," said Aülean in softer tones. He sat on a low stool and beckoned again to the boy. "Come hither." Estel did not need to be prodded. He approached the Master with some curiosity, and reached out to touch the long gray beard. He smiled, taken somehow back to another one, half-forgotten but loved nonetheless.

"Show Master Aülean your isil-stone, little one," said Elladan.

Estel took the smooth gemstone from his pouch and placed it on his palm, extended towards the Master. It gleamed innocently on the child's pink palm, impervious to the old smith's gaze. Aülean asked seriously of the boy, "May I?" Estel nodded, and the Master took up the isil-stone. He passed a bit of cloth over it expertly, and held it up to the unseen source of light.

"Isil-stone is a good and proper name, young Estel," he said. "This one comes from far away, from a land that is no more save under the sea, broken and dissolved into the sands of Belegaer."

"He espied it among the undergrowth up the mountain," said Elrohir.

"His eye is sharp," said Elladan.

"This stone, isil-stone as you call it, young Estel, is a helper for finding balance of your heart and your will. Helpful also to a healer, and to one who would travel over water; for new beginnings and for coming to terms with changes. It is a gem of hope, estel," finished the old Master, with his eye on the boy.

"I am Estel," he said. "The isil-stone is welcome to my pocket." He patted his pouch once again. Aülean delivered the gem back to its finder and watched it disappear into the depths of its new home. This Númenorean cub was as good a depositary as any; if this gem had been cut and polished by Finrod Felagund, as he suspected, it would warm his heart to know it had found its way into the hands of a long son of Beren.

"Also good for gardening," he added. "Keep it well."

The child's attention was taken suddenly by a large sort of grasshopper climbing up over the edge of the Master's polished stone table. It moved slowly, with solemn purpose and totally without fear. Estel watched in fascination as the insect advanced lifting one and then another slender leg terminated each in two tiny claws, until it reached a spot that seemed its own, for it settled its fat paunch down and rubbed its leg squeaking against a wing. The boy looked up at Master Aülean in question.

"She is an old friend," the Elder said. "Come winter, she leaves the gardens of Arda and seeks the warmth of the smithies." He reached out and stroked the forewings carefully. "See her bright colors and artful etching, young Estel."

"She is beautiful," said the boy, "but maybe also she bites?"

"It may be," answered the Master with proper seriousness. "She is a crotchety old thing. Very old, in cricket years." Estel seemed properly impressed. "She has long been my winter companion, and the inspiration for this, her deathless child." He took from a hidden pocket in his tunic a small packet wrapped in dark blue silk. He laid it on the table, a hand's breadth from the thoughtful insect, and removed the enveloping layers. Uncovered, a second locust was set aright, close to its originating mother. The twins came forward in astonishment.

"Her very image, Master," breathed Elladan, "but much smaller. And the work is as her lines and colors, precise. As if either could well sit here forever, or leap away into the shadows."

"Or they could go together, and fill the forest with golden grasshoppers," said Elrohir, "for I believe this one to be her fitting consort, a tiny son of Kementari."

"Why say you, cousin?" asked Estel.

"Observe," said Elrohir. He took a long needle from the Master's tool jar at the side of the table and pointed carefully. "Not only is he smaller. Also there are, at her tail, two little flat plates side by side. See?" The insect moved, self-consciously. Estel squinted and twisted his head to get a view of her ovipositors. "Now, the hopeful suitor," said Elrohir, winking at his brother. He brought the needle point to the tail end of the gold-and-jeweled animal and signaled the corresponding part.

"Only one, she has two. This one, is… like a…" Estel cupped his hand and signed a curving surface.

"Like a hollow?" the Master smiled in approval as Estel nodded. "Very good, my boy. Your eye is, verily, sharp, as your kinsman has said before."

"And this beauty, Master?" asked Elladan. "It seems to carry a springtime call for a distant and beloved lady."

"Too distant, my young friend," said the Master sadly. "And my springtime passed with my sworn brother Celebrimbor." He smiled nonetheless. "But you strike true about the lady. She loved all small things living. If ever I may find berth on the ship, I will take it to her."

"The ship…" said Elladan, "but have you sought passage, Master? Would you not go to the Havens, and embark?"

"I would, but there lies upon us yet the Ban of the Valar, young Elladan. Upon us who followed the House of Feänor." His eyes seemed to gaze first at nothing, then turn into himself. "And we must meet again in battle with Lord Annatar, bearer of gifts. I would not go to eternal bliss without having set my hand to the sword of justice that will bring him down at last." He smiled again at one twin and the other, and then looked intently at Estel, tracing the needle around the elderly grasshopper. "Though perhaps I foresee that my part will be only in the forging of such sword, to be wielded by the hand of the Chosen One."

"Our father believes, too, that the time of the Eldar in these Great Lands is coming to an end," said Elrohir musingly. "He will take passage on the ship, come the time, and seek his long encounter with the Lady Celebrian our mother. And I know he desires that we take ship with him."

"There are doubts, young one?" asked Master Aülean in some surprise. "I would say another lady is involved." He scrutinized Elrohir closely. "Yes, there must be among your tasks that you have brought for the day, a tiny jeweled harp at which you have been hammering all the winter past. Or have you done with it?" His merry old eyes twinkled at his pupil's flustered protest.

"I have sent it with Arwen my sister to a lady in the Golden Wood, Master," he said finally. "In Lorien abides one called Ailawan Lirulin, for her lovely soaring song and her eyes of green honey."

"Yes, well do I recall you articulating the amber and green stones in pointed ovals. At the time I found it curious." The old master shook his himself to clear his mind, then stepped to the table. "Let me see your work, my boys," he said to the twins.

As the brothers unwrapped the pieces of weaponry they had brought, Master Aülean turned once more to the child still engrossed with the insect. He noticed that the boy was drawn much more to the living than to the jewel, so he took it up and held it to his lips. He focused for an instant, and then puffed a short breath into the abdominal cavity through the tail. As he placed it again on the table near its living mother, the jeweled grasshopper began to chirp, seeming to rub his leg against his forewing as she had done before. Estel was right away taken, but the old lady grasshopper was not.

Clearly fussing, she picked up and turned away, leaping over the balustrade in an elegant arc belying the story of her many years.

Like her friend the master metal-smith, with his hard, agile body and his untiring energy. Perhaps his vast age did show in one aspect, in his acute and dispassionate understanding of all things within and without himself. Far and almost forgotten was the time of the brotherhood, Mírdain, and their one-minded relentless search for the Perfect Work. It was thus that the Enemy pierced them to the heart, and brought upon them the punishment long-predicted by the Valar Mandos… Tears unnumbered ye shall shed… slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief… Although his own lot fell into the final clause of the Ban: to grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and wane, and become as shadows of regret…

But Elrond Half-Elven with his brilliant life-force had snatched them away from the murdering forces of Sauron, and then brought them to contentment, if not joy, in the haven of Imladris. He was a great warrior then, the father of these two quiet heroes. Young, in the Eldar count of years, and yet wise; Gil-galad entrusted him always with the most diverse and sensitive missions, and with seemingly impossible ones: to aid Eregion against Sauron, for instance.

"So long has passed," he whispered to himself. Then suddenly, as if understanding his need, the bright-colored grasshopper flew out of nowhere and landed on Aülean's chest, hopped onto his sleeve and climbed to the shoulder. She settled between two strands of the braid adornment of his tunic, and chirped. "You are right," he said with a smile, "it is time to stoke the fires and get to work."