Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1
Chapter 2: Estel na tol (Hope is Coming)
In the forests of Mirkwood a band of Rangers had made a small camp. They were a group of ragged, stern men with proud faces that told the tale of their noble heritage. Their leader, a tall, lean dark haired man with haunted, weary blue eyes sat before the fire, his face somber with the fell news they had only just heard. A day before they had come into the northern reaches of Mirkwood and were escorted into King Thranduil's palace amidst the tall trees. The Elves, usually so merry and full of talk and song, seemed somber and silent and soon the Rangers discovered why.
King Thranduil lifted his golden head that would normally have been crowned with pale flowers since it was spring, his green eyes sorrowful, as the Rangers were escorted into the room.
"King Thranduil," the leader had said, bowing to the Elven Monarch. "I bring you greetings. I am sorry that we have come at a time of obvious sorrow."
Thranduil acknowledged the man with a nod of his head.
"You are gracious, Dunadan. And indeed it is a time of great lamentation." He glanced down at his hands folded so calmly in his lap. "A week ago my youngest son, Legolas, disappeared while out in the western reaches. The scouts found only his bow and quiver.and."The king's slender fingers clenched together. "And five dead Orcs. The only sign of my son was blood spilt upon the grass."
The Dunadan's blue eyes hardened, his lips tightening in anger and disgust, his strong fingers curled about the hilt of his sword.
"I fear for him, Dunadan," the king of the Wood Elves sighed. "My own beloved wife, his mother, fell prey to Orcs many years hence and that pain has never left me. And now to loose her youngest to the same fate." His voice trailed off and silent tears spilled over his pale cheeks. "I have had many of our scouts out searching for him, but there has been no sign. None that we could read anyhow. He is young, Dunadan. Too young to have heard the call of the Sea. Do you understand? His mother had not heard it ere she died."
The Ranger nodded. Indeed he did understand, better than most would. He knew of some who mourned for one that had been taken by Orcs, her body and spirit broken by their cruelty. But they were Noldor. They had the right to leave Middle Earth whenever they wished. Not so the Teleri. They had to hear the call of the Sea before they could depart from the Grey Havens. She had been sent, alive to await them. But King Thranduil's kin could not seek even that solace.
"We will find him, King Thranduil," he promised, his fellow Rangers glancing at him with surprise.
Thranduil gazed at him in wonder and gratitude, giving the Rangers the weapons they felt they would need and food and drink.
Now they sat silently about their small fire, lean faces intent as they sharpened their weapons and cooked a dinner of potatoes and sausages. They had found no signs either. It had been a week. Perhaps they had joined this quest too late. Yet none said a word against their leader for choosing to undertake this. For they knew him and his secrets. They were his men. Loyal. Even unto death.
Things did not look promising, but Dunadan did not give up hope. If the prince was near he would find him. He only hoped that there would be something left to return. He lifted blue eyes to the dark sky studded with stars. An Elf couldn't live without them. And he feared that the young Elf was locked away somewhere in the darkness. In a cold secret place. Why else was there nothing to attest to his presence?
"Dunadan?" The sharp hiss brought him to his feet. One of his men stood a few feet away in the trees, bow in his hand. He nodded his head to the west. Leaving the eight men at the camp the Ranger followed him into the darkness.
"This is very strange and perhaps important," the man named Daneth whispered as Dunadan pulled his bow from his back and notched an arrow.
The two moved silently through the trees, senses alert. Then Dunadan heard it. Singing. But it wasn't an Elf of that he was certain. The voice was gruff and unlovely, but the words were Elvish. He glanced at his companion who raised his brows and shook his head. They moved to stand several feet behind the being, a large figure seated upon a fallen log.
Dunadan's breath hissed through his teeth. It was an Orc. He raised his bow, but the other Ranger laid his hand on his arm. Scowling he lowered his bow as the man cupped his ear, their signal for "listen".
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila.
Ind mor lothron garo le
Gil galad ath sila godref..
Arad o nain or."
[Have hope as long as the stars shine.
Though darkness may hold you
A star's light will shine through;
Days of tears will soon be over.]
A look of confusion came over the Ranger's craggy features. What was this? An Orc singing in Sindarin? Then Daneth smiled and shrugged. He flashed his hands at his leader. I told you that this was strange, he signed with his hands. Dunadan nodded. It was strange, but what did it mean?
"You may come out now, Rangers. I know that you are there. I will not harm you. I have been aware of you for sometime. Your camp is not far from here I believe."
The two nearly jumped in surprise as the Orc spoke to them in Westron. Slowly they moved out of the shelter of the trees to confront the singing Orc.
It looked up at them, laying his palms upward in a gesture to assure that he meant them no harm.
"My weapon is over there." He pointed to a tree a few feet away, his crude sword leaning against it. "I didn't come here to fight with you men of the West. I came here to make a song for my friend. Though it is not quite finished."
Dunadan and his companion exchanged looks once more. They would not have thought that Orcs had friends, not even of their own kind. The Orc smiled into the night as he discerned his thoughts.
"I want to help my friend," he continued, caressing something that he held gently in his large hands. "Perhaps you could help. You see I am not good at making up songs. My Elf blood is too far away for that."
Daneth started, but Dunadan remained seemingly unmoved.
The Orc smiled at them. It was hideous.
"You heard my attempt. What did you think?"
Dunadan stepped forward cautiously.
"I thought that Orcs didn't sing."
The Orc shrugged.
"Most don't I guess. But I am trying. For my friend." His eyes raised to meet the Rangers.
"His eyes are blue, Dunadan!" Daneth gasped. "How can that be?"
"They were once Elves, Daneth," he answered calmly.
A look of disgust passed over the younger man's face.
"Elves?! That is not possible!"
"Not possible? But unfortunately it is true. Who is your friend, Orc?"
"My name is Egla Ash. And my friend is Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood. You are looking for him, aren't you?"
Now it was Dunadan who gasped.
"Where is he?" He demanded. "What have you done to him?"
Egla Ash stood to his rather imposing height.
"I am trying to help him, but the others are not. You must listen to me now. This may be your only chance to rescue him."
The two Rangers listened intently as the Orc told them of his plan.
"It is a good plan, my friend. One that I hope will work. But." He stared at the Orc. "How do I know that you are telling the truth?"
The Orc looked over at him and held out his hand. Inside it was a silver and green brooch in the shape of an oak leaf. The Ranger took it and held it in his hand. Yes. It was Thranduil's symbol.
Egla Ash nodded and moved to retrieve his weapon.
"If this does not work then he will be dead soon. I will regret that. You must believe me or he will die."
"Tell him that Estel is come," Dunadan said, as he and Daneth turned to leave and go back to their camp to prepare.
"Estel? That is hope."
The man nodded.
"Yes. Hope is come."
~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas swallowed in a dry throat. Tears wet his cheeks as his body hung limply from the chains. It had been on the fifth day that his screams had rung from the stony ceilings of the torture chamber, tied to the foul Mor Sarn. The torture and torment had escalated beyond what he had imagined was possible. From that time on he had not been able to sing. The words that had once come so freely to his mind and tongue seemed lost in a fog that he could not penetrate. His body was in agony and his spirit breaking. And what they had done to him this night was more than he could bear to think of. And now Egla Ash seemed to have abandoned him. But who could blame him, the defiled being he now was deserved no friends. Despair washed over him in cold waves. So this was what it had been like for him mother, dying in despair of the pains inflicted by the foul Orcs. A sob welled in his chest.
"Elbereth." he murmured. "Elbereth.Im gar dannen nedh dae a mor. Car al tir lim enni ah din. Lasto an enni!" [Varda.Varda.I have fallen into shadow and darkness. Do not look on me with silence. Listen to me!]
The door scrapped open and Egla Ash entered, bearing his water pouch. He felt sorrow and pity overwhelm him as he looked over at the Elven prince, his friend. He didn't even seem aware that the Orc had entered.
"Im gar dannen nedh dae a mor.dae a mor." [I have fallen into shadow and darkness.shadow and darkness.]
Egla Ash repressed a shudder of fear. It was not too late, he told himself as he approached the youth. He gently lifted his head to help him drink. The deadness in the blue eyes frightened him more than his muttered words or broken body.
"Legolas, Elvellon. Please do not give in to despair. Please. Help is coming," he whispered urgently. "Soon you will be free of here. I.I have a message from someone. He said to tell you that.he said.Estel na tol. Hope is come. Please, Legolas."
The Elf moaned and shuddered, blinking his red-rimmed eyes.
"Egla Ash?" He whispered, hardly daring to believe that his one friend was here.
The Orc nodded and gently touched the bruised face.
"I am here. Do not give up. Estel na tol."
Legolas face crumpled.
"Im gar al estel." [I have no hope.]
"Yes. You do. Hope is coming. He has told me."
Legolas stared at him with defeated eyes.
"Who?"
"A Ranger. They are coming."
Legolas drew a shaky, painful breath.
"They are coming?"
"Yes. Tonight. Please do not despair. All will be well." The Orc crossed the room and stared out the door then moved to join the Elf once more. "I have made a song for you, Legolas. Will you hear it before you go?"
Legolas nodded, his head drooping once more with utter weariness.
"Yes. I will gladly hear your song."
The Orc was pleased. He began to sing in his croaking, deep Orc voice, but to Legolas it was beautiful.
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila.
Ind mor lothron garo le
Gil galad ath sila godref.
Arad o nain or.
Estel na tol."
[Have hope as long as the stars shine
Though darkness may hold you
A star's light will shine through.
Days of tears will soon be over
Hope is coming.]
~*~*~*~*~*
Earlier that night Gorgash had sent out a party to meet a supply wagon coming from the northeast. He had sent a party of thirty Orcs to escort it back. It wouldn't do for the Elves to attack them then. Supplies were all important to this out of the way post. Only about twenty still remained under Emyn Mor Esgal. He was walking through the caves and corridors when he realized that the Forsaken One was missing. That one was a strange one and not just because his eyes were a cursed Elf blue. He suspected him of harboring feelings that were unOrc like. Maybe he could get him transferred elsewhere. He had also noticed that Egla Ash had no taste for the sport they had all been enjoying. Yes, he would have to go. Perhaps he himself would provide their next sport when the Elf was spent.
Just then the door of the Elf's cell opened and Egla Ash came out.
"What are you doing in there, Egla Ash?"
He turned, his heart pounding, fear coursing through him. So much could go wrong. But he kept his face impassive and moved to stand by his Captain.
"I was just contemplating the Elf, Gorgash. And I have had a thought."
"Oh? And what might that be, Egla Ash?"
"He is nearly dead, Gorgash. Don't you think that it would be more of a torment if you let him die outside? In sight of his beloved forest? Knowing that he will never walk there again?"
Gorgash stared at him. What was this? He studied the others face, looking for duplicity of some sort.
Egla Ash was holding his breath. Did Gorgash believe that what he had said was because of a new awakened Orcish cruelty? So much depended on this.
Suddenly the Captain laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Very good, Egla Ash. Very good. We will make an Orc out of you yet."
Egla Ash nodded and forced a cruel smile across his face.
"Yes. It will be fun to see him die in such torment," he commented.
"Ha! Gather the others I will get the Elf. We'll see how dead he is and then see if we can't help him along."
Egla Ash watched as the cell door swung open. He turned quickly to get the other Orcs. But not quickly enough. He heard a cry of fear and pain and screams and Gorgash's laughter. He hurried down the stony corridor restraining himself from clasping his hands over his ears.
~*~*~*~*
The Rangers crouched beneath the trees watching the southeastern entrance of Emyn Mor Esgal. If Egla Ash hadn't pointed it out to them they would not have found it. It appeared that the Orcs had some cunning. Dunadan fingered the Elven brooch in his pocket. He prayed that they were not too late.
"Can we truly trust an Orc, Dunadan?" One of his men asked quietly, holding his bow loosely across his knees.
"We have no choice. This may be the prince's only chance. We have to take it."
They sat quietly; blending into the forest about them, dressed as they were in black, rusty browns and muted greens. Each was silent, waiting, ever alert. Dunadan pulled the brooch from his pocket and held it between his fingers. His mind went to his foster family who had suffered so similarly. His foster father still bore the pain of the lose he had suffered, sending his beloved Celebrian across the Sea, her spirit broken and departed. Her children still mourned her going. He curled his fingers about the brooch. Don't let me be too late for this one, he thought, knowing only a little of the emotion that his foster brothers' surely felt when searching for their mother.
"Dunadan!"
He looked up to see Orcs streaming from the entrance. Nineteen. So the Orc was perhaps telling the truth. Dunadan's sharp eyes could pick him out of the crowd. He stood slightly apart from the others, not really part of them. Their vile howls of laughter and cries of anticipation made him ill, but he readied an arrow. The Orcs parted to reveal a larger Orc, the Captain that Egla Ash had told him of. He was dragging the Elf behind him, his fist tightened on the Elf's long hair.
"Steady." Dunadan muttered. "Not yet." They had come this close to victory and he didn't want a stray arrow loosed too soon to ruin their chances of success now.
The Orc Captain dragged the Elf into the middle of the clearing and after pummeling him with his brute fists and feet, tied him to a rough dead tree trunk that stood there, pale in the moonlight.
Dunadan winced at the harsh treatment, but couldn't let compassion be his undoing. He ground his teeth together, a low growl in his throat as he watched another Orc backhand the limp form and punch him in the stomach.
When the head Orc began to unfurl a long black whip, Dunadan pulled back the bowstring.
"On my signal. Choose a target. Fell it and take another. The Captain is mine. But do not shoot Egla Ash."
The others nodded tersely and raised their long dark bows.
~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas gasped in pain as the Orc drug him from the cell and down the corridor. Was this what Egla Ash had planned, he wondered. He bit down on his swollen lips to keep from crying out as his battered body was pulled over the rough rocky floor. Was he at least going to be allowed to see the stars one last time? Or was he just being taken deeper into caverns of Emyn Mor Esgal? It couldn't be that. His mind simply refused to contemplate that.
Then he felt the grass beneath him and he opened his eyes. He moaned with relief. His eyes went to the heavens and the stars.
Bain.bain.melui.[Beautiful.beautiful.lovely.]
Pain exploded as Gorgash began to hit him. Thoughts of rescue and the Rangers left him as the Orc savaged him with fists and feet. He felt himself being lifted and tied upright. Another Orc smashed his fist into his face then his stomach. He raised his eyes skyward once more.
Starlight filled them. He could hear the trees calling to him in their diverse voices: old and deep like streams running through the mountains or light and youthful like leaves falling in the golden sunlight. Mirkwood. Beautiful Mirkwood. It was calling him home.
Pain flared across his chest as the whip slashed down on him. He closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the next inevitable blow. But it never came. He heard the twang of a bowstring, then several more. His eyes opened in time to see Gorgash, staring blankly at him. The great Orc dropped the whip then crashed to the ground, an arrow in the back of his head. Several more Orcs were felled before they were entirely aware of the attack. Egla Ash hurried to Legolas' side and swiftly cut him free. The few Orcs that had escaped the Rangers' arrows were fleeing back into Emyn Mor Esgal.
"Come, Legolas. I will carry you." He hefted the limp body into his arms and swiftly carried him into the forest.
"Hurry, we must get under cover. They will be back." One of the Rangers said, throwing his bow around his back.
"I think not. They will not venture out by themselves. They are too few now. The others will not be returning for some time. Will they, Egla Ash?"
"No. Not for many hours." The Orc watched as the head Ranger came closer and gently touched the Elf's pale face.
"Prince Legolas?"
But he had lost consciousness.
"Come. I know a place where the Orcs do not go," Egla Ash said and led them swiftly through the woods.
~*~*~*~*~*
A little while later they stood in a clearing ringed about by tall, stately trees. Moonlight and starlight flooded the grass and lightning bugs danced amidst the tree trunks.
"This is a lovely place, Egla Ash," one of the Rangers said quietly, turning to admire the beauty of the place.
"I call it the Gael Dor. Glimmering Place." He gently lay the Elf on the cloak that Dunadan had spread on the grass. The tall Ranger was sorting through his packets of herbs and began to heat some over the small fire that had been started. "I come here when I am needing to be alone." Egla Ash explained. "He will recover, will he not?"
"Yes. He is strong. He was not conquered, as I had feared. Here help me."
Together the Ranger and the Orc cleaned the Elven prince's many wounds, bathing them with heated water and putting healing ointments on them. They wrapped him from his chest to his waist in tight bandages and bound such wounds as required it. The Ranger covered the Elf with a soft gray blanket and eased himself to the ground beside him. He smoothed back the tangled, matted blonde hair.
"King Thranduil will be much pleased at this homecoming I think." He murmured looking at the battered face yet seeing beyond its recent suffering to the beauty that lay beneath.
"Yes. I am glad. I feared that he would walk the shadows forever." Egla Ash commented quietly taking the Elf's hand.
Legolas slowly drew a breath and opened his eyes. Egla Ash was seated at his right hand, looking tired, but relieved to see him awake. The Elf turned his head and gasped. Seated on his left was a lean, dark haired man with a star on his brow like a jewel on a circlet about his head, his countenance kingly and noble.
"Silivren gil." [White star.] He said quietly, reaching out to touch the Ranger's cheek. "Estel." [Hope.]
The Dunadan stared down at him in amazement. The Rangers that were close enough to hear turned to look at their leader in astonishment.
"Yes," he answered slowly, clasping the others hand in his own. "I am called Estel."
Egla Ash stared at them, then at the Elven prince. White star? What was he talking about?
"He is a Ranger, Legolas Elvellon. His name is Dunadan."
"No, my friend Orc. My name is Dunadan it is true, but my name is also Estel. That is what my foster father named me. Estel. Hope." He smiled over at the stupefied Orc. "I have many names. Dunadan is but one of them. Though how he knew I was called Estel I do not know. No one has used that name in quite some time." He looked down at Legolas who was still staring at him in wonder. "How are you feeling, Prince Legolas?"
"I.I am alive, Estel. I mean Dunadun."
"You may call me anything you wish. We will be taking you back to your father soon. I will fix you some broth. Then you should sleep awhile. For now enjoy your stars and trees with your friend." He rose smoothly, stroking Legolas' cheek and moved to fix the food. Then he did seem a mere Ranger, not a king with a star of white blazing on his brow.
Legolas turned to Egla Ash.
"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done for me. I know I would never have survived Emyn Mor Esgal without you and you kindness, Mellon."
Egla Ash shifted uncomfortably, his face hot. The Elf had called him friend.
"Shall I sing you my song once more, Legolas?" He asked. "For I fear I shall never be able to make another."
Legolas laughed, but then gasped in pain and grasped his side, but a smile still graced his lips.
"I would be glad to hear your song again. Whenever you wish to sing it. But you will make many more. Of that I am certain."
Egla Ash smiled and began to sing quietly into the night to the listening stars.
Mellon. Friend.
~*~*~*~*
"It's a riddle!" Frodo's voice was excited, a great mystery at last revealed. "What is the Elvish word for 'friend'?"
Gandalf snorted. Of course. How simple. Friend.
"Mellon!"
Slowly the great doors divided in the center and swung outwards.
"I was wrong after all," the Wizard chortled. "And Gimli, too." He bent to pick up his hat and staff. "The opening word was inscribed on the archway all the time. The translation should have been "Say" friend and Enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Those were happier times. Now let us go!" He smiled down at Frodo and gripped his arm, looking very pleased. "Well done, my dear Frodo. Well done."
Frodo returned the smile, his blue eyes shining. He followed the Wizard into the darkness. The other Hobbits scrambled after them with Gimli shuffling happily in their wake, his eyes bright and eager, speaking of the wonders they were all about to see. Boromir stood and stretched, slinging his heavy round shield behind him. He looked over at Aragorn and Legolas.
"We're coming, Boromir," Aragorn called, shouldering his own pack. "We don't want to delay any longer."
Boromir nodded and moved to follow the others.
"Let us go, Legolas. The sooner we enter, the sooner we shall see the other side."
Legolas swallowed and pulled his quiver on and slung his bow over his shoulder. He took a few hesitant steps after the Ranger.
"We will all be together, Legolas. Fear not. You must have hope," Aragorn smiled.
The Elf felt a smile tug at his own lips. Hope. Estel. There was always hope. As long as your friends were with you.
"I am coming, Aragorn." Slowly he followed his friend up the path. "I am coming, Estel." Together they walked threw the great doors and into the darkness of Moria.
Gar estel annan i elenath sila.
Ind mor lothron garo le
Gil galad ath sila godref.
Arad o nain or.
Estel na tol.
Have hope as long as the stars shine.
Though darkness may hold you
A star's light will shine through.
Days of tears will soon be over.
Hope is coming.
I Methed [The End]
Chapter 2: Estel na tol (Hope is Coming)
In the forests of Mirkwood a band of Rangers had made a small camp. They were a group of ragged, stern men with proud faces that told the tale of their noble heritage. Their leader, a tall, lean dark haired man with haunted, weary blue eyes sat before the fire, his face somber with the fell news they had only just heard. A day before they had come into the northern reaches of Mirkwood and were escorted into King Thranduil's palace amidst the tall trees. The Elves, usually so merry and full of talk and song, seemed somber and silent and soon the Rangers discovered why.
King Thranduil lifted his golden head that would normally have been crowned with pale flowers since it was spring, his green eyes sorrowful, as the Rangers were escorted into the room.
"King Thranduil," the leader had said, bowing to the Elven Monarch. "I bring you greetings. I am sorry that we have come at a time of obvious sorrow."
Thranduil acknowledged the man with a nod of his head.
"You are gracious, Dunadan. And indeed it is a time of great lamentation." He glanced down at his hands folded so calmly in his lap. "A week ago my youngest son, Legolas, disappeared while out in the western reaches. The scouts found only his bow and quiver.and."The king's slender fingers clenched together. "And five dead Orcs. The only sign of my son was blood spilt upon the grass."
The Dunadan's blue eyes hardened, his lips tightening in anger and disgust, his strong fingers curled about the hilt of his sword.
"I fear for him, Dunadan," the king of the Wood Elves sighed. "My own beloved wife, his mother, fell prey to Orcs many years hence and that pain has never left me. And now to loose her youngest to the same fate." His voice trailed off and silent tears spilled over his pale cheeks. "I have had many of our scouts out searching for him, but there has been no sign. None that we could read anyhow. He is young, Dunadan. Too young to have heard the call of the Sea. Do you understand? His mother had not heard it ere she died."
The Ranger nodded. Indeed he did understand, better than most would. He knew of some who mourned for one that had been taken by Orcs, her body and spirit broken by their cruelty. But they were Noldor. They had the right to leave Middle Earth whenever they wished. Not so the Teleri. They had to hear the call of the Sea before they could depart from the Grey Havens. She had been sent, alive to await them. But King Thranduil's kin could not seek even that solace.
"We will find him, King Thranduil," he promised, his fellow Rangers glancing at him with surprise.
Thranduil gazed at him in wonder and gratitude, giving the Rangers the weapons they felt they would need and food and drink.
Now they sat silently about their small fire, lean faces intent as they sharpened their weapons and cooked a dinner of potatoes and sausages. They had found no signs either. It had been a week. Perhaps they had joined this quest too late. Yet none said a word against their leader for choosing to undertake this. For they knew him and his secrets. They were his men. Loyal. Even unto death.
Things did not look promising, but Dunadan did not give up hope. If the prince was near he would find him. He only hoped that there would be something left to return. He lifted blue eyes to the dark sky studded with stars. An Elf couldn't live without them. And he feared that the young Elf was locked away somewhere in the darkness. In a cold secret place. Why else was there nothing to attest to his presence?
"Dunadan?" The sharp hiss brought him to his feet. One of his men stood a few feet away in the trees, bow in his hand. He nodded his head to the west. Leaving the eight men at the camp the Ranger followed him into the darkness.
"This is very strange and perhaps important," the man named Daneth whispered as Dunadan pulled his bow from his back and notched an arrow.
The two moved silently through the trees, senses alert. Then Dunadan heard it. Singing. But it wasn't an Elf of that he was certain. The voice was gruff and unlovely, but the words were Elvish. He glanced at his companion who raised his brows and shook his head. They moved to stand several feet behind the being, a large figure seated upon a fallen log.
Dunadan's breath hissed through his teeth. It was an Orc. He raised his bow, but the other Ranger laid his hand on his arm. Scowling he lowered his bow as the man cupped his ear, their signal for "listen".
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila.
Ind mor lothron garo le
Gil galad ath sila godref..
Arad o nain or."
[Have hope as long as the stars shine.
Though darkness may hold you
A star's light will shine through;
Days of tears will soon be over.]
A look of confusion came over the Ranger's craggy features. What was this? An Orc singing in Sindarin? Then Daneth smiled and shrugged. He flashed his hands at his leader. I told you that this was strange, he signed with his hands. Dunadan nodded. It was strange, but what did it mean?
"You may come out now, Rangers. I know that you are there. I will not harm you. I have been aware of you for sometime. Your camp is not far from here I believe."
The two nearly jumped in surprise as the Orc spoke to them in Westron. Slowly they moved out of the shelter of the trees to confront the singing Orc.
It looked up at them, laying his palms upward in a gesture to assure that he meant them no harm.
"My weapon is over there." He pointed to a tree a few feet away, his crude sword leaning against it. "I didn't come here to fight with you men of the West. I came here to make a song for my friend. Though it is not quite finished."
Dunadan and his companion exchanged looks once more. They would not have thought that Orcs had friends, not even of their own kind. The Orc smiled into the night as he discerned his thoughts.
"I want to help my friend," he continued, caressing something that he held gently in his large hands. "Perhaps you could help. You see I am not good at making up songs. My Elf blood is too far away for that."
Daneth started, but Dunadan remained seemingly unmoved.
The Orc smiled at them. It was hideous.
"You heard my attempt. What did you think?"
Dunadan stepped forward cautiously.
"I thought that Orcs didn't sing."
The Orc shrugged.
"Most don't I guess. But I am trying. For my friend." His eyes raised to meet the Rangers.
"His eyes are blue, Dunadan!" Daneth gasped. "How can that be?"
"They were once Elves, Daneth," he answered calmly.
A look of disgust passed over the younger man's face.
"Elves?! That is not possible!"
"Not possible? But unfortunately it is true. Who is your friend, Orc?"
"My name is Egla Ash. And my friend is Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood. You are looking for him, aren't you?"
Now it was Dunadan who gasped.
"Where is he?" He demanded. "What have you done to him?"
Egla Ash stood to his rather imposing height.
"I am trying to help him, but the others are not. You must listen to me now. This may be your only chance to rescue him."
The two Rangers listened intently as the Orc told them of his plan.
"It is a good plan, my friend. One that I hope will work. But." He stared at the Orc. "How do I know that you are telling the truth?"
The Orc looked over at him and held out his hand. Inside it was a silver and green brooch in the shape of an oak leaf. The Ranger took it and held it in his hand. Yes. It was Thranduil's symbol.
Egla Ash nodded and moved to retrieve his weapon.
"If this does not work then he will be dead soon. I will regret that. You must believe me or he will die."
"Tell him that Estel is come," Dunadan said, as he and Daneth turned to leave and go back to their camp to prepare.
"Estel? That is hope."
The man nodded.
"Yes. Hope is come."
~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas swallowed in a dry throat. Tears wet his cheeks as his body hung limply from the chains. It had been on the fifth day that his screams had rung from the stony ceilings of the torture chamber, tied to the foul Mor Sarn. The torture and torment had escalated beyond what he had imagined was possible. From that time on he had not been able to sing. The words that had once come so freely to his mind and tongue seemed lost in a fog that he could not penetrate. His body was in agony and his spirit breaking. And what they had done to him this night was more than he could bear to think of. And now Egla Ash seemed to have abandoned him. But who could blame him, the defiled being he now was deserved no friends. Despair washed over him in cold waves. So this was what it had been like for him mother, dying in despair of the pains inflicted by the foul Orcs. A sob welled in his chest.
"Elbereth." he murmured. "Elbereth.Im gar dannen nedh dae a mor. Car al tir lim enni ah din. Lasto an enni!" [Varda.Varda.I have fallen into shadow and darkness. Do not look on me with silence. Listen to me!]
The door scrapped open and Egla Ash entered, bearing his water pouch. He felt sorrow and pity overwhelm him as he looked over at the Elven prince, his friend. He didn't even seem aware that the Orc had entered.
"Im gar dannen nedh dae a mor.dae a mor." [I have fallen into shadow and darkness.shadow and darkness.]
Egla Ash repressed a shudder of fear. It was not too late, he told himself as he approached the youth. He gently lifted his head to help him drink. The deadness in the blue eyes frightened him more than his muttered words or broken body.
"Legolas, Elvellon. Please do not give in to despair. Please. Help is coming," he whispered urgently. "Soon you will be free of here. I.I have a message from someone. He said to tell you that.he said.Estel na tol. Hope is come. Please, Legolas."
The Elf moaned and shuddered, blinking his red-rimmed eyes.
"Egla Ash?" He whispered, hardly daring to believe that his one friend was here.
The Orc nodded and gently touched the bruised face.
"I am here. Do not give up. Estel na tol."
Legolas face crumpled.
"Im gar al estel." [I have no hope.]
"Yes. You do. Hope is coming. He has told me."
Legolas stared at him with defeated eyes.
"Who?"
"A Ranger. They are coming."
Legolas drew a shaky, painful breath.
"They are coming?"
"Yes. Tonight. Please do not despair. All will be well." The Orc crossed the room and stared out the door then moved to join the Elf once more. "I have made a song for you, Legolas. Will you hear it before you go?"
Legolas nodded, his head drooping once more with utter weariness.
"Yes. I will gladly hear your song."
The Orc was pleased. He began to sing in his croaking, deep Orc voice, but to Legolas it was beautiful.
"Gar estel annan i elenath sila.
Ind mor lothron garo le
Gil galad ath sila godref.
Arad o nain or.
Estel na tol."
[Have hope as long as the stars shine
Though darkness may hold you
A star's light will shine through.
Days of tears will soon be over
Hope is coming.]
~*~*~*~*~*
Earlier that night Gorgash had sent out a party to meet a supply wagon coming from the northeast. He had sent a party of thirty Orcs to escort it back. It wouldn't do for the Elves to attack them then. Supplies were all important to this out of the way post. Only about twenty still remained under Emyn Mor Esgal. He was walking through the caves and corridors when he realized that the Forsaken One was missing. That one was a strange one and not just because his eyes were a cursed Elf blue. He suspected him of harboring feelings that were unOrc like. Maybe he could get him transferred elsewhere. He had also noticed that Egla Ash had no taste for the sport they had all been enjoying. Yes, he would have to go. Perhaps he himself would provide their next sport when the Elf was spent.
Just then the door of the Elf's cell opened and Egla Ash came out.
"What are you doing in there, Egla Ash?"
He turned, his heart pounding, fear coursing through him. So much could go wrong. But he kept his face impassive and moved to stand by his Captain.
"I was just contemplating the Elf, Gorgash. And I have had a thought."
"Oh? And what might that be, Egla Ash?"
"He is nearly dead, Gorgash. Don't you think that it would be more of a torment if you let him die outside? In sight of his beloved forest? Knowing that he will never walk there again?"
Gorgash stared at him. What was this? He studied the others face, looking for duplicity of some sort.
Egla Ash was holding his breath. Did Gorgash believe that what he had said was because of a new awakened Orcish cruelty? So much depended on this.
Suddenly the Captain laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Very good, Egla Ash. Very good. We will make an Orc out of you yet."
Egla Ash nodded and forced a cruel smile across his face.
"Yes. It will be fun to see him die in such torment," he commented.
"Ha! Gather the others I will get the Elf. We'll see how dead he is and then see if we can't help him along."
Egla Ash watched as the cell door swung open. He turned quickly to get the other Orcs. But not quickly enough. He heard a cry of fear and pain and screams and Gorgash's laughter. He hurried down the stony corridor restraining himself from clasping his hands over his ears.
~*~*~*~*
The Rangers crouched beneath the trees watching the southeastern entrance of Emyn Mor Esgal. If Egla Ash hadn't pointed it out to them they would not have found it. It appeared that the Orcs had some cunning. Dunadan fingered the Elven brooch in his pocket. He prayed that they were not too late.
"Can we truly trust an Orc, Dunadan?" One of his men asked quietly, holding his bow loosely across his knees.
"We have no choice. This may be the prince's only chance. We have to take it."
They sat quietly; blending into the forest about them, dressed as they were in black, rusty browns and muted greens. Each was silent, waiting, ever alert. Dunadan pulled the brooch from his pocket and held it between his fingers. His mind went to his foster family who had suffered so similarly. His foster father still bore the pain of the lose he had suffered, sending his beloved Celebrian across the Sea, her spirit broken and departed. Her children still mourned her going. He curled his fingers about the brooch. Don't let me be too late for this one, he thought, knowing only a little of the emotion that his foster brothers' surely felt when searching for their mother.
"Dunadan!"
He looked up to see Orcs streaming from the entrance. Nineteen. So the Orc was perhaps telling the truth. Dunadan's sharp eyes could pick him out of the crowd. He stood slightly apart from the others, not really part of them. Their vile howls of laughter and cries of anticipation made him ill, but he readied an arrow. The Orcs parted to reveal a larger Orc, the Captain that Egla Ash had told him of. He was dragging the Elf behind him, his fist tightened on the Elf's long hair.
"Steady." Dunadan muttered. "Not yet." They had come this close to victory and he didn't want a stray arrow loosed too soon to ruin their chances of success now.
The Orc Captain dragged the Elf into the middle of the clearing and after pummeling him with his brute fists and feet, tied him to a rough dead tree trunk that stood there, pale in the moonlight.
Dunadan winced at the harsh treatment, but couldn't let compassion be his undoing. He ground his teeth together, a low growl in his throat as he watched another Orc backhand the limp form and punch him in the stomach.
When the head Orc began to unfurl a long black whip, Dunadan pulled back the bowstring.
"On my signal. Choose a target. Fell it and take another. The Captain is mine. But do not shoot Egla Ash."
The others nodded tersely and raised their long dark bows.
~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas gasped in pain as the Orc drug him from the cell and down the corridor. Was this what Egla Ash had planned, he wondered. He bit down on his swollen lips to keep from crying out as his battered body was pulled over the rough rocky floor. Was he at least going to be allowed to see the stars one last time? Or was he just being taken deeper into caverns of Emyn Mor Esgal? It couldn't be that. His mind simply refused to contemplate that.
Then he felt the grass beneath him and he opened his eyes. He moaned with relief. His eyes went to the heavens and the stars.
Bain.bain.melui.[Beautiful.beautiful.lovely.]
Pain exploded as Gorgash began to hit him. Thoughts of rescue and the Rangers left him as the Orc savaged him with fists and feet. He felt himself being lifted and tied upright. Another Orc smashed his fist into his face then his stomach. He raised his eyes skyward once more.
Starlight filled them. He could hear the trees calling to him in their diverse voices: old and deep like streams running through the mountains or light and youthful like leaves falling in the golden sunlight. Mirkwood. Beautiful Mirkwood. It was calling him home.
Pain flared across his chest as the whip slashed down on him. He closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the next inevitable blow. But it never came. He heard the twang of a bowstring, then several more. His eyes opened in time to see Gorgash, staring blankly at him. The great Orc dropped the whip then crashed to the ground, an arrow in the back of his head. Several more Orcs were felled before they were entirely aware of the attack. Egla Ash hurried to Legolas' side and swiftly cut him free. The few Orcs that had escaped the Rangers' arrows were fleeing back into Emyn Mor Esgal.
"Come, Legolas. I will carry you." He hefted the limp body into his arms and swiftly carried him into the forest.
"Hurry, we must get under cover. They will be back." One of the Rangers said, throwing his bow around his back.
"I think not. They will not venture out by themselves. They are too few now. The others will not be returning for some time. Will they, Egla Ash?"
"No. Not for many hours." The Orc watched as the head Ranger came closer and gently touched the Elf's pale face.
"Prince Legolas?"
But he had lost consciousness.
"Come. I know a place where the Orcs do not go," Egla Ash said and led them swiftly through the woods.
~*~*~*~*~*
A little while later they stood in a clearing ringed about by tall, stately trees. Moonlight and starlight flooded the grass and lightning bugs danced amidst the tree trunks.
"This is a lovely place, Egla Ash," one of the Rangers said quietly, turning to admire the beauty of the place.
"I call it the Gael Dor. Glimmering Place." He gently lay the Elf on the cloak that Dunadan had spread on the grass. The tall Ranger was sorting through his packets of herbs and began to heat some over the small fire that had been started. "I come here when I am needing to be alone." Egla Ash explained. "He will recover, will he not?"
"Yes. He is strong. He was not conquered, as I had feared. Here help me."
Together the Ranger and the Orc cleaned the Elven prince's many wounds, bathing them with heated water and putting healing ointments on them. They wrapped him from his chest to his waist in tight bandages and bound such wounds as required it. The Ranger covered the Elf with a soft gray blanket and eased himself to the ground beside him. He smoothed back the tangled, matted blonde hair.
"King Thranduil will be much pleased at this homecoming I think." He murmured looking at the battered face yet seeing beyond its recent suffering to the beauty that lay beneath.
"Yes. I am glad. I feared that he would walk the shadows forever." Egla Ash commented quietly taking the Elf's hand.
Legolas slowly drew a breath and opened his eyes. Egla Ash was seated at his right hand, looking tired, but relieved to see him awake. The Elf turned his head and gasped. Seated on his left was a lean, dark haired man with a star on his brow like a jewel on a circlet about his head, his countenance kingly and noble.
"Silivren gil." [White star.] He said quietly, reaching out to touch the Ranger's cheek. "Estel." [Hope.]
The Dunadan stared down at him in amazement. The Rangers that were close enough to hear turned to look at their leader in astonishment.
"Yes," he answered slowly, clasping the others hand in his own. "I am called Estel."
Egla Ash stared at them, then at the Elven prince. White star? What was he talking about?
"He is a Ranger, Legolas Elvellon. His name is Dunadan."
"No, my friend Orc. My name is Dunadan it is true, but my name is also Estel. That is what my foster father named me. Estel. Hope." He smiled over at the stupefied Orc. "I have many names. Dunadan is but one of them. Though how he knew I was called Estel I do not know. No one has used that name in quite some time." He looked down at Legolas who was still staring at him in wonder. "How are you feeling, Prince Legolas?"
"I.I am alive, Estel. I mean Dunadun."
"You may call me anything you wish. We will be taking you back to your father soon. I will fix you some broth. Then you should sleep awhile. For now enjoy your stars and trees with your friend." He rose smoothly, stroking Legolas' cheek and moved to fix the food. Then he did seem a mere Ranger, not a king with a star of white blazing on his brow.
Legolas turned to Egla Ash.
"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done for me. I know I would never have survived Emyn Mor Esgal without you and you kindness, Mellon."
Egla Ash shifted uncomfortably, his face hot. The Elf had called him friend.
"Shall I sing you my song once more, Legolas?" He asked. "For I fear I shall never be able to make another."
Legolas laughed, but then gasped in pain and grasped his side, but a smile still graced his lips.
"I would be glad to hear your song again. Whenever you wish to sing it. But you will make many more. Of that I am certain."
Egla Ash smiled and began to sing quietly into the night to the listening stars.
Mellon. Friend.
~*~*~*~*
"It's a riddle!" Frodo's voice was excited, a great mystery at last revealed. "What is the Elvish word for 'friend'?"
Gandalf snorted. Of course. How simple. Friend.
"Mellon!"
Slowly the great doors divided in the center and swung outwards.
"I was wrong after all," the Wizard chortled. "And Gimli, too." He bent to pick up his hat and staff. "The opening word was inscribed on the archway all the time. The translation should have been "Say" friend and Enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days. Those were happier times. Now let us go!" He smiled down at Frodo and gripped his arm, looking very pleased. "Well done, my dear Frodo. Well done."
Frodo returned the smile, his blue eyes shining. He followed the Wizard into the darkness. The other Hobbits scrambled after them with Gimli shuffling happily in their wake, his eyes bright and eager, speaking of the wonders they were all about to see. Boromir stood and stretched, slinging his heavy round shield behind him. He looked over at Aragorn and Legolas.
"We're coming, Boromir," Aragorn called, shouldering his own pack. "We don't want to delay any longer."
Boromir nodded and moved to follow the others.
"Let us go, Legolas. The sooner we enter, the sooner we shall see the other side."
Legolas swallowed and pulled his quiver on and slung his bow over his shoulder. He took a few hesitant steps after the Ranger.
"We will all be together, Legolas. Fear not. You must have hope," Aragorn smiled.
The Elf felt a smile tug at his own lips. Hope. Estel. There was always hope. As long as your friends were with you.
"I am coming, Aragorn." Slowly he followed his friend up the path. "I am coming, Estel." Together they walked threw the great doors and into the darkness of Moria.
Gar estel annan i elenath sila.
Ind mor lothron garo le
Gil galad ath sila godref.
Arad o nain or.
Estel na tol.
Have hope as long as the stars shine.
Though darkness may hold you
A star's light will shine through.
Days of tears will soon be over.
Hope is coming.
I Methed [The End]