Book Two - THE BOY ARAGORN
Chapter Two: Whence Comes, then, this Arrow?
"I will never tire of the summers of Imladris," Elrond mused aloud. "My heart knows that such guarded beauty belongs to Yavanna since always and forever." His gaze drifted from this beloved tree to that memorable rock, to the tiny beach carved into the bank of the tumbling stream, and finally to the immense high peaks guarding the valley from the east. "If I feel any longing for the Blessed Realm, for myself, it is for the sweetness of my life's love, Celebrian," he admitted only to the quiet of his own counsel. "I see her by the hour in looks and gestures that pass between my sons, her sons, and in the bright eyes of Arwen Undómiel, such beauty undreamt of..."
He missed his daughter sorely, her music, her laughter, her glowing colors, her dancing feet, but never did he voice an objection when she came with the thought of residing for a time in the Golden Wood with Galadriel and Celeborn. In truth, she was surely as precious to them as she was to him, equally a joy to their hearts. Galadriel it had been, long ago, who said for the first time that Arwen was the likeness of Lúthien, returned at last to Middle Earth, though nevermore to her beloved forests of Beleriand. She would know this, Galadriel, she and Celeborn among the few Eldar remaining who had looked upon Lúthien Tinúviel in her day, fairest among the Children of Ilúvatar.
His thoughts flew back suddenly to the living moment, as he saw appear on the path from the bridge the former subjects of his musings, the twins Elladan and Elrohir. They came with swift strides, and Elrond read into their strong movements an agitation of sorts, an anxiety. He waved as they came to the foot of the balcony.
"What news, my sons?"
"Ada, we would speak with you," Elrohir began.
"Come inside," answered Elrond, and disappeared into the chamber.
He waited for them at the door, and closed it after them. The three seated themselves in silence, the elder awaiting a word from the two. He noticed they were just now down from the mountain, but understood that their climb had been in haste, likely for a motive of some importance.
"You were up the mountain," he encouraged.
"Yes, Ada, just now returned," Elladan volunteered.
"Estel went up, early in the morn," Elrohir resumed. "He went to the spring, to train his eye and collect bits of whatever he finds of interest."
"He goes often," added Elladan, "sometimes we go together but he does well alone." In spite of his words, he seemed in a conflict of sorts.
"What did Estel find at the spring?" Elrond asked, his voice level.
"This, Ada, and this," Elladan produced the wolf-fang and the arrow-point, and laid them on a small table. He pushed the table close to his father.
"Together?"
"Yes, Ada."
"So you went to see for yourselves," he gazed at one twin and the other.
"We did."
"And you found...?"
The brothers exchanged a glance and Elrohir continued. "It was not at the spring itself, but farther up the slope. At the highest part of the copse of red nettle-trees, in a sheltered and hidden nook one would hardly notice."
"Save our bright Estel," Elrond interposed with a smile.
"Estel," said Elladan, "no hidden spot passes his searching eye."
"The fang of a wolf, Ada, lost in the struggle to free it from a dart-point struck into its flesh." Elrohir pointed to the fang and said intensely, "We found her, Ada, but kept downwind and distant enough. She lived, yet."
"Alive?" Elrond frowned, now intent, and looked more closely at the fang. "But there is more."
"She was not alone," interposed Elladan.
His brother quickly clarified, "She was wounded gravely, Ada, surely to the death. But she had with her a tiny pup. Alive. We believe she has held off her final moment in a great effort to save it. She must have run away carrying it by the scruff, after the shot, and only stopped when she reached the safety of this valley."
"Hidden in the copse, she tore the point from the wound. And lost the fang." The picture was clear to Elladan.
"We do not know this arrow-point, Ada. How far can she have run? Where lies the bow that let fly this dart?" This was the crucial point for Elrohir.
Elrond turned his attention to the iron point. "It is indeed strange, my sons. We must show it to Glorfindel, and if he knows it not, the smiths surely will understand enough simply from the work itself." He rose, and his sons with him. Elladan took up the two objects and tucked them into a pocket. "I would seek for Glorfindel and take all of us some nourishment with Vaneta. We must discover the story in its entirety."
The three sought down the hall for Glorfindel's quarters, but he was not within. "At the stables, perhaps," said Elladan. "Should I seek him there?"
"Let us to the kitchens," Elrond went on, "we will send for him from there."
His steps are quick, though they flow as always, observed Elladan to himself. Thus is Ada worried, also. Estel up the mountain, with a wolf. A she-wolf, with a pup.
They reached the kitchen, but their comrade was not there. "Vaneta," said Elrond, "we would have Master Glorfindel here for a word. And yourself, if we may."
Vaneta called out to Darmel, sheaving a sackful of veyat , on the terrace. She met him at the doorway and whispered to him, he nodded to the three inside and turned to go down the rough stairway. "He will find the Lord Glorfindel quickly," she said, returning to the hearth. "Would you drink a fresh brew, masters?" She gathered four drinking-vessels and then a fifth, her own, and filled one for each of them. The other remained empty, awaiting the arrival of the last of the company.
"Sit with us, if you please, Vaneta," said Elrond, taking the brew and nodding his thanks. "There is a matter upon which you must say your mind. Regarding Estel."
The elf-lady looked up at the name, intent at once. "Say on, my lord," she said.
"We will wait for Glorfindel," he answered, "so as to not tell the story twice. At this time I would have you say what has passed with Estel this morning after coming down the mountain. He came to take his nourishment with you."
"He did, my lord," she smiled. "As is his way, hungry and happy, although still refusing foods from the flesh of the kelvar. Nuts he eats, a great many. And other foods, enough to fill his little body growing ever taller."
"He loves each creature, those that crawl, fly or run," said Elladan. "I wonder not that he is refraining from foods that have cost them their precious lives."
"Yet his nourishment has not failed," Elrond observed, "because Vaneta strives to find balance for him." He patted the lady's hand, robust from kneading unnumbered good, stout breads. "But tell us, dear friend, what has passed with Estel this day, out of the ordinary?"
"He came with his trilling, as always, and hungry... as always. While he ate I told him more of the story of Beren, though not of him but of divine Lúthien, the day she encountered the Hound of Valinor." Vaneta sighed, and continued. "I choose with great care the words for the story, and what must not yet be said. He is still a little boy, though wise in many ways and growing so quickly."
"Was he troubled by the story, by a word or an image?" Elrohir glanced at his brother.
"When I told him Huan was a great wolfhound, his thought went elsewhere. He told me of his findings up the mountain, and I believe he went his way in remembrance of some small seed from his tiny life."
"That it is, then," said Elladan, rising. "We came upon him on the bridge, gazing at the water and singing softly."
"His wolf-pup song. He noted us not." Elrohir searched his father's eyes. "We had never heard from him this tune, only from the Lord Arathorn, on the eve of the cruel day he was taken from us."
""When a child is stricken by pain from evil chance, many doors may close in his mind. And he senses that none would speak of it, thus it seems to fade. But Estel, I believe, has forgotten nothing." Elrond looked at the three in turn. "Would you say otherwise?"
A shadow fell across the doorway, and Glorfindel spoke a word of greeting. Vaneta rose to welcome him, and waved him to the seat next to Elrond, across from the twins and herself. She filled his cup with brew and placed it before him.
"We are speaking of Estel," Elrond said, "and of what memories he may retain as yet."
"For my part," said the golden-haired elf, "I believe he remembers as if in dreams. On a time he recalls his Dada... although we all of us know that the boy has grown quiet in these seasons past." He paused and drank deeply, then turned to Elrond. "There is fresh news, from the course of the morning?"
The twins and Vaneta each told a part of the story, and Elladan placed the fang and the arrowhead before them on the table. Glorfindel looked closely at them.
"There are two questions here," said Elrond, "one dealing with the birthplace of this dart, and the hand that forged it. Although of possibly great importance, this is not so pressing a matter as the other."
"Estel," said Glorfindel, "the matters of his memories, and his wandering so alone."
The four looked at him curiously.
"Yes," he added, "I have given myself to these thoughts as well."
"Ada, we wish to bring the wolf-pup down for Estel to keep and foster," Elrohir spoke to his father but included the others in his question. "At this hour the mother has surely relented, and her life gone back into the stuff of Arda. The youngling will follow soon."
There was silence in the warm kitchen, each deep in thought, seemingly weighing and measuring. Finally the Master of Imladris spoke.
"Return to the red nettle-tree grove, and regard what has passed in the hours thus gone," he said. "If life has gone from the mother, but not the pup, take it and bring it to us, first. I believe, as you do, that it is meant for Estel. However, the Lady Gilraen must know of this and give her consent. Are you agreed, my friends?" he looked at Vaneta and Glorfindel in turn.
Vaneta smiled to herself, contemplating perhaps some secret image in the future of the boy and the wolf-pup. Glorfindel said, "Never in the years of Imladris have we taken to our fireside such a one of the creatures of the Dark Lord." The twins had a look between them and Elrohir went to open his mouth. "But," interposed the blond elf before the words came, "this mother came to us with her final threads of strength, to deliver the last of her children to us for its saving. I believe she was so directed by the Powers, and that the pup brings a gift for Estel as well."
"We go, then, at once," said Elladan, heading out the terrace way. His brother close behind, they disappeared before anything further could be said. Glorfindel turned again to the arrowhead and took it between two fingers, looking closely at it from one side and the other.
"Do you know this sort of point, my friend? I have not seen such a one in my years," said Elrond. "Yet it is no fine workmanship, rather crude. Not from the hands of a master smith, and surely made among countless pieces of small worth."
"I would not say, rather study it with our good Aülean and the others. I will keep this, and seek counsel with them in later hours." Glorfindel pocketed the iron and handed back the fang. "This, for Estel's hoard. Whether it be or no, that he foster the pup, this day's findings are of some importance to him."
"Hold it for him, if you will, and restore it when the moment is come. Now, I ask if you please to speak with me to Gilraen, on the matter of the wolf. I fear it may be a task, of sorts." Elrond's gaze travelled through the doorway into the garden beyond.
"I will," said Glorfindel. "But we best go at once. The twins move quickly and there may soon be a tumult in the house." They rose and thanked Vaneta, then moved with silent step along the corridors to the lady's chambers.
Estel turned away from the tumbling stream and left the bridge, heading for the small side entrance to the house close to his mother's chambers. He was not sure why, but he needed Gilraen's embrace warm around his shoulders. Perhaps Dada...
Only with his mother did he open his heart on this matter. And then only when they were alone, the two of them. Or often the three, when they would take Rogarin and ride together to the high parts of the valley. At those times, far from the great house that was their home as well, they would remember. She would help him see again what once he had seen, and she answered each of his questions as best she could. There had been times when her eyes overflowed, but she never wailed aloud or sobbed. More often, her laughter rang out as it did not in the halls and gardens where she was a lady.
And she would tell of Dada. Of their days together when she was a girl romping in the fields- much like you, my son, she would say- and he a hunter of skill surpassing all others. "And do you know why?" she would ask him. "Because he learned with the peredhil brothers Elladan and Elrohir, as are you learning, now..." Then she would be quiet, and a little sigh would find its way to her breast.
And they sang many songs of their people- the Dúnedain, my son- but they never sang the wolf-pup song, and only today it had risen to his own lips unbidden. As he wandered up the path his mind searched with great effort for the memory of the day of the wolf-pup. Hazy images were all he could muster, and more clearly sounds. He smiled at the sharp little bark, and his heart ached for the booming laugh of Dada.
"Estel, my love," Larat's sweet teasing voice cut through his ponderings, "have you been with your great horse at the stables?" He looked up to see the four ladies on the balcony, laughing and waving, and pulled up at once.
"Momo, my ladies," he said with a proper bow, "have a pleasant morning."
They laughed all the more, and Gilraen blew him a kiss. "Come up, my love, and break your fast with us. Though surely you have by now..." The boy had already disappeared inside, and a moment later knocked politely.
Lynael swept wide the door and motioned him in, taking note of the tousled head of hair and the mud caked on his clothes and shoes. Gilraen spread her arms wide and enveloped her son with daily joy, then quickly felt the urgency in his embrace. She understood, and with a look at Lynael requested a private moment with him. The ladies busied themselves at the fireside, and Gilraen led the boy out to the sun-blessed balcony. They stood at the far corner, Estel upon a small stool, and looked out over the gardens.
"What is it, my son?" she finally began.
He told her briefly of his morning's adventures, but lingered on the fang and the dart-point. "Elladan and Elrohir went to see the spot, and I to have a bite with Vaneta and bring her seeds and a pretty stone. She likes pretty stones very much," he added with a shy laugh. "But she told me more stories of Beren, now of the lovely Lúthien, and of the Hound of Valinor. Huan, she said his name. And then she said Lúthien rode him like a horse, because he was very big: she said he was a wolfhound." Estel gazed at his mother, measuring the effect of his words.
"Wolf-fang, wolfhound, wolf two times in one morning," she said evenly.
"Indeed, Momo. My very thought. But then I was sad in my heart, and sought the bridge with the song of water, and there it sang to me again, Wolf-pup running in the wood, come to me..."
"That was a fine day, my love," Gilraen said wistfully, "I remember, and your father. He was so pleased, and he sang with you in his big voice."
"Where is the wolf-pup, Momo?"
She could feel his strong intent pressing on her, and took his hands in hers. "The wolf-pup ran back to his mother, your father said. She called to him in her wolf-voice and he jumped out of your arms and disappeared into the bush. Do you not recall?"
Estel frowned and shook his head very slightly, searching the depths of his memory.
"Come and eat a bit more with us, my son. Trouble yourself no more about this." She rose and he followed her into the chamber, where the sisters had set out a board of most attractive delicacies. The drill was not new to Estel, and he made no protest at the washcloth and water-basin. The hair did not meet with the sisters' approval, but the change of clothes certainly did.
"This green tunic brings the woodland to your eyes," Milia whispered. "You look so very charming, beloved child of the mountain." He smiled and thanked her silently, and for a while there was only the sound of chewing and sipping and approving hums as the fare vanished from the platters into happy bellies.
As was her custom, Milia retired to the balcony with her little harp and let her song drift into the room and out over the garden. Larat and Lynael slipped out the door unnoticed, as mother and son opened a chest and took out a pretty wooden box. They removed the lid and began placing in position a troop of little townspeople, men and women young and old, some children, several horses, and oddities that somehow fit in.
The figures were carved from wood, some of them, and others modelled from clay; one little horse was wrought from blue metal. Different hands were in evidence, but all the figures lovingly formed, and Gilraen's part in the story was the coloring and the painting of tiny details.
They inspected each figure and grouped them according to satisfaction. Three only were deemed worthy, finished, and four others lacking barely a few details. Those in another group had their basic colors applied but had not the features and ornaments that would make them come alive, and the greater part had only a base coat of paint.
The blue metal horse had no paint at all. "He is Nahar by night, Momo," explained Estel, "when the Vala Oromë is taking his ease and has allowed his noble steed to run free. So then he has no harness."
"But perhaps a golden dot for each of his eyes?" Gilraen studied the figure closely.
"Yes," he whispered, "a golden dot." He watched as she shook a tiny jar of soft runny gold, and finally uncorked it and dipped in the very end of her most slender brush. "Your hand is so steady, Momo. As your shot with an arrow, says Master Glorfindel."
She smiled, but voiced no answer as she took the night-Nahar and touched the tip of gold to his tiny eye. The perfect dot was repeated on the other side of the tossing head and Gilraen looked at the piece critically. "I do think the gold would do well in the mane and the tail of Nahar also," she said. "A very few threads within the carved tresses, see? Here, in the crevices. What say you?"
Estel considered. "Very slight, the threads, Momo?"
"Indeed," she said. "Thus." She took up another figure, a knotty tree, and drew a line along its trunk, so thin that the gold seem to sparkle from the surrounding light itself.
"Very slight, Momo, yes," Estel wriggled in satisfaction. "The mane and tail of Nahar, they will have this tiny glitter."
"Most fitting for a steed of the Valar, my son," Gilraen smiled, "a tiny golden gleam." She set the metal piece to dry and took up another figure. "Will you paint hair on this happy old man, Estel? I will make flowers on the skirts of these maidens." She took out and ordered several small pots of color and brushes of varied thickness.
Estel took up his little old man and the brush he favoured from the set. He took a small plate from the box and placed dabs of different colors around the edge, slowly mixing the tone he had in his mind. Gilraen was rapt in the decor of her little girls' skirts, and hummed a tune under her breath.
So Elrond and Glorfindel found them, when they came to persuade Gilraen to allow her son the company of a little orphaned wolf-pup. They quickly felt the task was, somehow, already done.