FicWad

Much later, Legolas returned to Estel's room, fully bathed and rested. Estel lay still, the only movement the rise and fall of his chest. His left arm was in a sling, his ribs had been bandaged, and his left leg was propped up on several pillows. The cuts and scratches had been dressed, and a poultice of fever-reducing herbs rested on his forehead.

The Prince of Mirkwood sat in the chair next to the bed and propped his feet up on the mattress. When Estel awakened, he would be there. In his sleep, Estel turned his face slightly to the side, giving Legolas a better view. Legolas felt his heart clench painfully in his chest when he saw that tears leaked in a steady stream from Estel's closed eyes.

Gently, Legolas stroked the tangled hair away from Estel's face. "My friend, it grieves my heart to see you troubled. Is the pain more than you can bear?"

Estel nodded, opening his eyes and dashing the tears away with his right hand. "When I close my eyes, it is like I am once again a prisoner of the orcs. I cannot shake the nightmares, Legolas. They - they haunt me." In a small voice, he added, "They have for a long time."

Legolas sighed. "I know, my friend. I have heard your cries in the night, on our recent trip and before, though it seems to have gotten worse rather than better." The elf hesitated. "There is more, is there not? You have not told me all of what unsettles you."

"I cannot."

The Prince of Mirkwood withdrew his comforting hand from his friend's forehead, crossing his arms and fixing the young human with a stern look. "Cannot? What oath binds you that you are unable to explain to your best friend what causes the tears you try so hard to hide?"

Realizing that he had offended his friend, Estel reached out to grasp his hand. If Legolas left him, then he would truly be alone.

The panicked expression on Estel's face did not escape notice. Legolas gave his good hand a gentle squeeze. "I was not leaving, Estel. Be at peace, and please tell me why you grieve."

Haltingly, Estel spoke, and Legolas felt his heart ache in sympathy for his friend. "It - it is never enough. It will never be enough, no matter ... no matter how hard I push myself, how hard I try. It seems I must resign myself to a life of duty and exhaustion from the trying."

"Trying? Estel, I don't understand. Explain to me what it is you mean." Legolas frowned in concern. He had not known that such dark emotions had gained a hold upon his friend.

"I would die for them, Legolas. Any one of them, and for you. If I could give my life to ensure Arwen's eternal happiness in the Gray Havens, I would do so, but as it is, she would grieve my passing too much, or worse, blame herself. Elladan and Elrohir are the brothers of my heart, and Ada ... he has lost so much. If I live, I take from him his daughter, and if I die, he loses a son. I believe he could weather my loss were it not for the destiny he has brought me up to claim. The despair of living in a world fallen to shadow is not something I could do to him. Ere, I must try to live up to my destiny, no matter that it is not what I want. It is
worse than simply not wanting it, I fear and despise the idea of what I must be and the things I must do. It hangs around my neck like a great weight and crushes the breath from my chest." Estel shivered. "The feeling has been growing, Legolas. Some evil brews, and it calls to me. It wants me to fight it, to fight it and die."

"Estel, you are becoming too agitated. You must rest."

"Don't you see? I can't. Rest is to be forever denied me. I must work constantly to take on my role as Isildur's heir, traveling with the Rangers, scouting for Ada and Gandalf. Then, if I survive, I must be King of Men. There will be no rest for me when the personal safety of all those under my rule is my responsibility. I will not have rest until I am dead. The Evenstar was the only light shining in the future for me, and her light has been dimmed by Lord Elrond's disapproval."

Legolas was stunned. Never before had he heard words of such despair come from his friend. He had never dreamed that Estel felt so strongly, nor had he imagined the pain that had wrapped itself around Estel's tender, caring heart. The Elf-prince had no words to ease the anguish, no way to bring comfort or hope. He sighed deeply, resting his hand gently on Estel's cheek, and murmured, "You were called 'hope' because that is what you bring to Middle Earth. It is a cruel twist that in bringing hope to others, there is none left for you. I promise you, Estel. I swear to you that you will not face your destiny alone. I will be with you, and I will not abandon you, even unto death."

"Please, don't make promises that you cannot keep. One day, you will sail to the Gray Havens, as will my brothers, my father, and my beloved, if Ada has his way. I will be alone with the destiny I accepted only for those who would leave me."

Legolas found that tears welled in his eyes at the unfairness of Estel's position. "I make no promise that I do not intend to keep, my friend. You know this about me. I will not sail for the Havens until after you have passed on from this Middle Earth. The cry of the gulls will not take me from you until that day. I swear to you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, that you will not be left alone with your burden."

In answer, Estel smiled, the gratitude in his eyes so real that it was nearly tangible. "Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me that I will not suffer and die alone. It makes it ... bearable."

Bearable. Legolas cringed inside at the word. Why should Estel's life be only bearable when others were allowed to have their hearts' desires? Why should he have to shoulder the burden of his destiny when all of his forebears had escaped it?

Hours later, Estel slept, and Legolas still sat at his bedside, deep in thought. Elrond entered to check on his foster son and noted the serious expression on the younger elf's face.

"Has he awakened?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes. Frequently, in fact. If I may ask, Lord Elrond, do you have a draught of dreamless sleep? He cannot close his eyes for more than a few minutes before the nightmares take him. He is overtired and it is affecting his mood and causing him to despair."

As if to help make Legolas' point, Estel cried out in his sleep, begging some unseen foe to stop hurting him. His words turned into an inarticulate sob. "No home, no family. Alone ... I am sorry, please, I am sorry ... "

Elrond could bear to hear no more, and sat beside his son, taking him into his arms as gently as he could, mindful of his wounded body. Estel opened eyes dulled by exhaustion and pain.

"I am tired, Ada." Estel's voice was almost a whisper, and he lowered his eyes as though ashamed of his weariness.

"I know, my son. I will help you to rest."

The Lord of Rivendell laid his son back on the bed, stroking his hair softly. He rose from the bed to go and retrieve a sleeping draught from his sizeable collection of remedies. When he returned, he urged the exhausted ranger to drink it. Too tired to protest or even speak, Estel took it without complaint.

Elrond frowned. He knew that it was more than a simple physical exhaustion. He had been noticing even before Estel had departed with the twins and the Prince of Mirkwood a change in the young man's demeanor. He had tried to tell himself that it was not related to the exile but he knew the truth in his heart. Estel had recovered from his injuries sustained during his captivity among the orcs with alarming speed. The very moment he was able to ride, he had immediately resumed his usual duties with his brothers and with the Dunedain. Almost every moment of his free time was spent training, sparring with anyone he could get to participate. Not once since his recovery had he sat idle long enough for Elrond to study him carefully. Now that the young human lay still, Elrond was not pleased with what he saw. There was more to this problem than physical injury and emotional pain. With a great deal of surprise, Elrond recognized the work of some powerful magic.

"Legolas, there is more at work here than meets the eye. I sense magic about Estel. By some evil spell, he is drifting farther away from us by the hour. Think carefully, has there been any time during your recent travels with him that he could have been exposed to such a thing?"

The elven prince closed his eyes in thought. "I suppose there could have been some sort of magical interference when we fought the orcs and wargs. I had an unsettling feeling at the time that the creatures were not acting of their own accord, but had been sent by some terrible master. I had forgotten the feeling in my haste to leave the battle scene and later to retrieve help for Estel." He hesitated in thought for a moment, then continued. "When I spoke to Estel, he said that he felt that some evil brews, and that it calls to him, wanting him to fight it, to fight it and die. Those were his words, nearly verbatim."

Lord Elrond's eyebrows knitted together in an expression of anger. "There is a way to find out exactly what has been done to him, but it is not easily done. The herbs and other ingredients of the cure must be given in a certain order and the dosage is very precise." He hesitated for a moment. "Legolas, you have been to Lothlorien and beheld the Lady Galadriel, have you not?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Then you know of her ability to know the minds of others, to speak over long distances?"

"Yes, but why - "

Elrond interrupted the younger elf. "I must enter Estel's mind, see what he sees. I must identify the source of the magic that blankets him in despair."

The Prince of Mirkwood's fair face bore an expression of shock. "You are going to enter his mind? Are you certain that is wise? It is a terrible violation, not to mention the danger that whatever power is harming Estel could attack you as well."

Elrond closed his eyes tightly. "I must take the risk, son of Thranduil. If I do not, I might as well go to the Gray Havens now and hang the fate of Middle Earth. I have told you before that Estel is important, have I not?"

Legolas nodded. "You have."

"As important as he is to the survival of Middle Earth, I will admit to you, Legolas, that that is not the reason I would risk this."

Puzzled, the Prince of Mirkwood asked, "Then why?"

"He is . dear . to me. Estel is my son, if not by direct blood, then by the blood of my beloved brother Elros. Estel's arrival in Rivendell made life after the departure of Celebrian bearable for myself and for Elladan and Elrohir. He is my son, and he is their brother. I do this because I love him as my own children." The elven lord gently stroked Estel's cheek, remembering the child his foster son had been. "How could I not?"

Legolas frowned. Bearable. There was that word again.