A Journey of Discovery

When he left the twins, Elrond returned to the parlour, closing the door behind him.  Celebrían and the two guards had moved from the table to the chairs set around the fireplace.  He squeezed into Celebrían’s chair with her and smiled.  “They are both asleep,”  he announced.  “It has been a long and tiring day.”

“I think that your sons have both coped well with events – they are not used to such casual cruelty and viciousness,”  Ilmarin said.  “You must be proud that Elrohir has inherited your healing skills, although I suppose it comes as no great surprise that at least one of them has.”

Elrond hesitated.  “Not a great surprise, no,” he admitted.  He paused, wondering whether to explain the source of Elrohir’s power, but decided against it.  “They take after both of us, in many ways,” he concluded at last.

Later that night, in the privacy of their room, Celebrían turned to him.  “We should tell them,”  she announced.  “We should tell them what happened when Elrohir was born.”

“The guards?” Elrond asked in surprise.  “You think it necessary?  Why?”

“Not the guards – our sons!”  Celebrían exclaimed in exasperation.  “They deserve to know, and it would explain everything.  Elladan is puzzled why Elrohir can do this, and he cannot.”

“But – ”  Elrond protested, then fell silent.  Should he tell them?  Tell them that Elrohir – born mere minutes after his brother – had effectively died at birth; stillborn, the umbilical cord twisted tightly around his neck?  Elrond, frantic with fear, desperate to save his son, had done the only thing he could think of.  He had poured healing energy into the tiny body, flooding Elrohir with it – and it had worked.  Elrohir had breathed, and cried, and lived.  It had seemed like a miracle.  The twins were oblivious to this, and no-one now would ever guess what had happened.  Yet Elrond had often wondered if being the receptacle for so much power, so young, would have any lasting effect on Elrohir.  There had been no sign that it had – until now.

“No,”  he said at last.  “I think not.  They are already unsettled by the boys’ attack and Elrohir’s healing.  To learn this; now – they do not need to know it.   They already know that they have different strengths and weaknesses, that they have different characteristics.  This is just one more difference.  And Elrohir – he is very young to discover his skills.  That alone is enough for now.”

Celebrían gazed at him, sceptical.  “If you are sure,” she admitted uncertainly.  “I will leave the decision to you, as it concerns healing matters – but I think we should tell them.  I do not like secrets.  And the longer we leave it, the greater the shock will be when they do find out – which they will, one day.  But the decision is yours.”

Elrond hesitated again.  He, too, did not like secrets.  Yet some things were perhaps best left unsaid.   “One day,” he hedged.  “When the time seems right, I will tell them – we will tell them.  One day – but not now.”

She stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded.  “Very well.  One day.”

Elrohir awoke slowly.  He was sprawled face down on his bed, gazing over the edge of the mattress at a slightly worn, threadbare rug covering scrubbed floorboards.  The view was totally unfamiliar.  He blinked and turned his head, looking at the rest of the room.  Of course – they were at the inn at Bree; yet he had no recollection of going to bed the night before.  An odd weight rested on his feet, and he twisted around with a smile as he pulled his feet free and sat up.  “Draug!  Good morning.”

Draug lay across the end of the bed.  He opened one eye, thumped his tail briefly, and placidly went back to sleep.  Elrohir stared at the dog, thinking over events of the previous evening – and especially the startling discovery that he had inherited his father’s powers of healing.   He paused as he savoured the joy and wonder of that moment again.  The euphoria of the discovery though, was somewhat dampened by the double humiliation of not only fainting, but also the fact that he had clearly been put to bed by one or other of his parents the night before – something that had not happened since he had been very young.  The last thing he remembered was sitting by the fire in the little dining room, feeling overwhelmingly tired as the conversation around him had gradually faded away into silence.

Elrohir rubbed Draug’s ears as he slid out of bed.  He realised he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before – stained and crumpled now – and stripped off his tunic, rummaging for a clean one in his pack.  There was no sign of Elladan; and his bed was empty, the coverlet pulled straight rather haphazardly.  His brother’s absence was odd – normally, if either of them slept late, they risked a rude awakening from the other.  He wondered what threats had been used, and just why Elladan had decided to leave him undisturbed.

A large earthenware pitcher and basin stood on the table.  Elrohir poured a little water into the basin and splashed it over his face.  It felt rather sore, and he prodded his cheekbone cautiously with a tentative finger.  It was tender and slightly swollen, and he wondered curiously what the bruise looked like.  He had no mirror, and there was not one in the room, but he knew his mother carried a small looking-glass in her bags. 

He brushed off his trousers and pulled on the clean tunic.  His belt and boots lay on and beneath the chair.  He left the boots, and in stockinged feet crossed to the door and pulled it open, peering out into the hallway. His parents’ room lay next door, and he knocked briefly on the door, then pushed it open.  The room  was empty, their open packs on one of the two beds.  The mirror lay on a small chest. 

Elrohir peered at his reflection.  A dark bruise marked his cheek, just missing his eye.  He blinked.  The bruise looked rather spectacular, and gave him an odd appearance.  He grinned suddenly.  For once, no one would have any trouble telling him and Elladan apart.

He wondered again where Elladan – and his parents – were.  He went back to the door, and listened.   A clatter of pots and pans, and a savoury smell of cooking came from his left, and the main public rooms of the inn lay on the right.  As he stepped out into the hall, Brindley Butterbur appeared from a doorway that led out into the yard.  He greeted Elrohir jovially.  “Well now, how are you, young master?  Awake at last?  Good afternoon!”

“Afternoon?”  Elrohir echoed in horror.  “Is it really afternoon?”  He could tell that he had slept for a long time, but had not realised it was quite that long.

Butterbur chuckled.  “No, not really.  I were joking.  ‘Tis late, though – past mid-morning, at any rate.  I’ve just been to talk to a few folk – about what we’re to do with them louts.   Now, are you looking for your Ma and Pa?   They’re through here.”  He led the way into the main bar, empty of customers now apart from Elrond, Celebrían and Elladan sitting at one end with Eilenach and Ilmarin, finishing a late breakfast.

Elrohir crossed to the table, brushing off their concerns.  “Good morning.  Yes, of course I’m all right.  Mother, please don’t fuss so!   No, I don’t have a headache.   El, did you leave anything for me?  I’m starving!”  He began to eat hungrily, as Butterbur explained his errand.

“We don’t have no town council as such – there’s never really been no need for one.  If anything needs doing, the families who’s been here longest decide what to do.  Butterburs have run the Pony for generations!” he added proudly.  “Mind you, in my great-grandpa’s day it nearly all ended different – he only had daughters.   So when the youngest married, her man took her name instead, and in time took over running the Pony.  That were my grandfather.  Anyroad, one way or another, I reckon there’ll still be Butterburs here for a good few years to come!”

Elrond coughed.  “The meeting?”  he asked politely.  Elrohir glanced at Elladan, and they grinned.  Their father was an expert at bringing a long-winded explanation to the point.

“Oh.  Ah.  Well now, I met with the others – the saddler, the baker, the blacksmith and old Dan Heathertoes – and told them what you’d told me.”

“We met the baker,”  Elladan interrupted.  “He seemed nice.  He gave us a loaf of bread.”

“Aye, he said it must’ve been you he’d seen.  ‘Nice lads,’ he said.  ‘Very polite.  Not the sort to cause trouble, neither.’  Anyways, we talked about what to do.   And Matt Rushlight, the blacksmith, and old Appleton – he owns the wood yard, and that there dog – are coming down here to talk to you.  We’ll talk to that Will, and Bob too if we can find  ’em.”  Butterbur paused for breath.  “Tis funny – there’s usually three of ’em.”

Elrohir swallowed his mouthful.  “There were three of them at first,”  he explained.  “But the one called Harry – he told the others to stop, and to leave us alone.  Then they left.  It was the other two that came back later.”

Butterbur nodded.  “Ah, did he?  Well now, Harry always did have more sense than the other two put together.  But don’t tell me no more now, save it for when the others gets here.   This afternoon.”

Elrohir, still picking at the remnants of breakfast, glanced up.  “This afternoon?”  He looked at his parents.  “Does that mean we’ll be staying here tonight as well?”

Elrond nodded.  “Yes.  Do you mind?  I had intended for us to leave early this morning, but … there are things that need to be dealt with.”

Elrohir glanced at Elladan again, and nodded enthusiastically.  “Of course we don’t mind!”  Despite all that had happened, Bree was still a fascinating place.

“Good,”  Elrond nodded.  “Elrohir, if you have quite finished, I want to talk to you both.  We can walk in the town, if you wish.”

“Can Draug come as well?”

Elrond hesitated.  “Elrohir …”

“I know we can’t keep him,”  Elrohir interrupted curtly.  “I wish we could, but he belongs here.”  He sighed.  “And we can’t really take him all the way to Mithlond, can we?  It would be too far for him, anyway.”  He got up from the table abruptly.  “Come on, El.  Let’s get him.”

Back in their room, Draug still lay on the bed, but he leapt up when Elladan and Elrohir entered, his tail wagging.  Elrohir sat on the vacated bed and pulled on one  boot in silence, then looked up at his brother.  “El, why didn’t you wake me up?  It’s late – nearly afternoon!”

Elladan grinned.  “I was going to – but they wouldn’t let me!  I had to promise to leave you alone.  Mother said you ‘obviously needed to rest’!”

Elrohir scowled.  “Shut up, El – I don’t need to rest!  You make me sound like an invalid!  There’s nothing wrong with me.”  He turned to Draug and stroked him.  “Or Draug.  He really is all right, isn’t he?”  he said in wonder, still not quite able to believe it.

“Yes, he is.  El – you healed him.” Elladan regarded his brother with a rare, undisguised admiration.  “Tell me again what you did.  What did it feel like?”

“Well,”  Elrohir began rather hesitantly.  “To begin with, I was just trying to see how bad the cut on his back was; and looking at his leg.  I could see how much it hurt him, and I just wished there was something I could do while I was waiting for you to come back with  father.  I was thinking about what he does when he heals someone.  And then … I did it.”  He shrugged.  “It felt – like it did when father healed my arm when I broke it.  Warm, and – and tingly.  It was the same, and at the same time it felt quite different – because I was doing it, not having done to me.”  He sighed in frustration.  “I wish I could explain it better.  I don’t think I’m making much sense.”

Elladan grinned.  “I’m used to that, little brother.  You never make much sense!”

“Shut up, El!”  Elrohir retorted automatically.  “Look, perhaps it will be easier if I try to show you what I did.  I’ll describe it better then.  Give me your hand.”  He reached out to grab his brother’s hand, to demonstrate how he had healed Draug.  To his surprise, Elladan snatched his hand back.  

“No, don’t!”

Elrohir stared at his twin, and waited. 

“Last night … you fainted,”  Elladan explained.  “It scared me.   I didn’t know what was wrong.  Don’t do it.”

Pulling on the second boot, Elrohir did not immediately reply.  Elladan’s comment struck too close to his own fears; fears he did not really want to confront.  But then, because it was Elladan, he sighed.   “That’s what worries me,” he confessed eventually.  “I fainted.  What use am I going to be to father?  How can I help him?  What good is a healer who faints every time?”

“Well – perhaps it won’t be like that.  Perhaps it’s just because it was the first time.  It must have been a shock!  El, you have to talk to father about this.  He’ll know,”  Elladan said reassuringly.  “Perhaps it happens to lots of healers.  Perhaps it happened to him.”

“I suppose so,”  Elrohir was still unsure.  “Anyway, come on – they’ll be waiting for us.”

With Draug at Elrohir’s heels, they went out into the courtyard where Elrond and Celebrían waited, and set off along the road that skirted the little town.  For a while they simply walked, still enjoying the sights and sounds, and the novelty of a place so very different from Imladris. 

Elrond turned to his sons.  “I need to talk to you both,” he told them.  “About healing – and about promises.  I am immensely proud of the way you handled matters last night – you both showed maturity and sense in deciding that the situation you found yourselves in overrode your promise to return by dusk.  However, that does not mean that such promises can be lightly ignored!” he added sternly.  “A promise is binding – your honour depends on it.  It should only be disregarded in a dire emergency.”  He gazed at Elladan and Elrohir piercingly for a moment as the warning sank in.

“I know that,”  Elladan said quietly.  “We both do.  It was just – ”  he paused, searching for the right words.

“It was just that we thought it was an emergency,”  Elrohir added.  “And it was.  I think they might have really hurt Draug – even killed him – if we hadn’t stopped them.”  He shivered slightly.   “I don’t understand why people can do that.  There was no reason – they were being cruel just because they could be.”

Elladan nodded.  “I know.  But most of the people here aren’t like that.”

“No.  Remember that.  And look at our own people – we too have yielded to greed and cruelty at times.”  Elrond’s face grew sad at some distant memory.  “Some promises and oaths should never be made at all.”

“Unexpected good can come of things as well,”  Celebrían interrupted firmly.  “Enough of this melancholy!   Always remember, compassion – even love – can be found in the most unlikely of places.”   She smiled at Elrond.  “You, of all people, should know that.  Now come.  It is time we returned, to see what is to be done with these boys.”

Elrohir stopped,  Draug nudging at his knees.  “We were going to talk about healing as well,”  he reminded his father.

“That can wait until later.   There will be much to discuss there as well – but we will talk of it later today.”

As they returned to the inn,  Draug gave a sudden bark and bounded ahead towards a man just passing beneath the archway.  He stopped, and looked down at the dog.  “Garm!”  he cried in delight.

Draug – or rather Garm – bounded and pranced all around the man, his tail waving madly, whining with excitement.  The man – surely Appleton, the wood merchant – bent down, rubbing the dog’s ears, patting him, clearly equally pleased.  “Garm,”  he said again.  “When I got down to the yard, and you weren’t there, I wondered what had happened to you, really I did!”

By this time the others had caught up.  Appleton straightened, and nodded in greeting.  “Old Brindley told me that those two louts had been up to no good again.  He said you rescued old Garm here and looked after him.  That were good of you.  Thank you.”

“That’s all right,” Elrohir replied.  He looked down at Draug – Garm, he reminded himself.  “I’m glad you’ve got him back,”  he said awkwardly.  Inwardly, his heart sank.  Despite his words earlier, he had still entertained a vain hope that Draug could – somehow – stay with him, and travel with them to Mithlond.  But now that Draug – no, Garm – had been reunited with his owner, there was no possibility of that.  “I can tell he’s pleased to see you,”  he added bravely.

“I wish I’d never left him there now,”  Appleton explained. “But twice I caught them lads trying to set fires in my yard.  I chased  ’em off both times, but started leaving Garm there at night to guard the place.  I know he’s old, and a bit slow, but thought he’d scare them off!”  He paused, gazing at Garm’s antics in bewilderment..  “He were old and slow, anyroad.  Just look at him now!  He’s like a pup again.  I don’t understand it, that I don’t!”  He scratched his head.  “Ah well, as long as he’s safe.  And now we’ll see what we’re to do with them two!”  He pushed open the door, and led the way into the inn.  Elrohir followed him, ignoring Elladan’s sidelong looks of awe.

 Butterbur showed them into a small side room, where four people already waited in uncomfortable silence – the two boys, a woman, and a short, powerfully built man.  “This here’s Jed Rushlight, the blacksmith,”  Butterbur announced.  The three men sat in chairs facing the rest of the room, and Elrond, Celebrían and the twins sat on a bench.  “You two stand there!”  Butterbur ordered the youths, pointing to a spot in front of him.

“Now then,”  began Rushlight.  He had strong, muscular arms, and a red-flushed face from working in the heat of the forges.  “First, I wants to know what you two have got to say for yourselves!”  He indicated the two lads standing sullenly in front of him.  Bob stared blankly back, while Will shuffled his feet, scowling.  “Well?”  When there was still no response, he sighed.  “I spoke to your ma, young Will.  She said she weren’t coming down – said it weren’t no business of hers.”

Will scowled at his feet again.  “Aye,” he muttered.  “She would.  She don’t care.”  He fell into another sullen, morose silence.

Rushlight sighed, and tried again.  “Bob, your ma agreed to come and talk to us.”  He indicated a faded, pale-looking woman perched on one of the benches.  At his signal, she stood, wringing her hands. 

“He’s a good boy really, sir,”  she began nervously.  “But he’s a handful.  He’s easily led.  And once he made friends with that Will – him and his no-good mother!”  she added viciously,  “well, he just went along with things.  It’s not my Bob’s fault, really it’s not.” 

Appleton snorted.  “Hmmh!  It never is, is it?” he muttered to himself.  “Now, are you two going to tell me what you was doing in my yard?”  he asked aloud.

“Nothing,”  Bob muttered.

“Nothing, is it?  And what about my dog; my Garm?  What was you doing to him?”  Appleton continued.

“Nothing.”

Butterbur snorted.  “I’ve had enough of this.  Will one of you two,” – he pointed at the twins – “tell us?”

Elladan stood, a little nervously.  “We’d been exploring.  We were on our way back here when we heard a dog yelping,” he began.  He explained events as briefly and clearly as he could, and ended:  “We thought they’d gone.  I came back to get help, and left my brother there with the dog.”

Elrohir also stood, and nodded.  “I tried to help Draug, and heal him – Draug was what I called him,” he added.  “But they came back, and surprised me.”  He flushed, not wanting to admit how easily he had been overcome.

“Right then,”  Rushlight interrupted.  He stared in turn at the two youths, both stockily built; and Elrohir, slighter and more slender, though he was of much the same height.  “So you two,” – he glared at Will and Bob – “came back, and attacked this young lad, who was on his own?  Is that it?”

“What if we did?”  Bob demanded.  “He kicked me!  Look – I’ve got bruises!”  He pulled up a trouser leg to reveal a grimy shin.  Elrohir noted with deep satisfaction several dark bruises showing through the dirt.

“And this boy has a bruised face and it’s lucky he don’t have a  black eye!”  Rushlight retorted.  “And I can guess how that happened.   Now then, we’ve had enough of you two and your bullying ways.  It’s time it stopped!”  He turned to Butterbur and Appleton.  “What are we to do with them?”  he questioned.

There was silence for a while.  “They need something to do, so they’m not hanging round causing trouble,”  Butterbur announced.  “But what?  We’ve the lockups, what we use for the night for drunks who’re being a nuisance – but that won’t work.  So what do we do?”

There was a longer silence.  Elrohir waited curiously to see what would be decided.  He had felt a sudden unexpected sympathy for the boys, especially Will, with his mother who did not care.  He glanced across at Celebrían and gave her a small smile, profoundly grateful that he had parents who loved him –  something he had never questioned in all his life, and never would.

Rushlight stirred, and gazed at Will consideringly.  “I’ve known for some time I need an apprentice,”  he said at last.  “But do I want you?  It’ll be hard work, and you won’t get no wages until you prove to me you deserve some.  But if you work hard, and keep yourself out of trouble, you can train as a blacksmith.  You’ll have to sleep at the forge, too – I needs someone to keep the fires banked overnight.  Will your ma agree to that?”

Will looked up, a gleam of interest and hope in his eyes for the first time.  “She’ll be glad to have me out the way,”  he stated bluntly.  Then his customary sullenness reappeared, and he shrugged.  “I suppose I’ll do it.”

Bob’s mother sprang to her feet.  “You won’t do that to my Bob, will you?”  she pleaded anxiously, her hands twisting in the fabric of her skirt.  “You won’t make him leave me, and do a horrible, dirty, dangerous job like that?  I’ll keep him out of trouble sir, really I will!”

“Aye,”  Butterbur muttered quietly.  “Like you already have!  I tell you what,” he said more loudly, “He can wash pots in the kitchens here.  He can go home at night, and you can make sure he behaves himself!”

“Oh yes, sir, thank you sir!”

Bob gave a snort of disgust.  “Shut up, ma, will you?  Washing pots?  Why should I?”

“It’s either that, or mucking out my stables!”  Butterbur threatened darkly.

Once the deliberations were over, the two boys were dismissed, with orders to report for duty the next morning.  Appleton, to Elrohir’s profound regret, took his dog with him as he left.   “Be sure to come past and say goodbye afore you leave,” he urged.  “I’m right thankful for what you did for old Garm!” 

Elrohir nodded.  “We will,” he promised.  “I’ll miss him – I’m just glad we were able to help, and stop those boys from hurting him any more.”  He rubbed Garm’s ears.  “Goodbye, Draug,” he whispered. “I’ll come and say goodbye before we leave!”

They watched as Appleton and Garm made their way along the street to the other end of the town, Garm gambolling in joyous circles around Appleton.   “I still don’t like those boys – they were being cruel just because they could be – but now I feel sorry for them as well.   And there’s something about Will’s mother – no-one likes her, but no-one will really talk about her.  And she couldn’t even be bothered to come today!”

Butterbur bustled past on his way back to his customers.  “No.  I reckon Will’ll be better off without her.  Maybe he’ll turn over a new leaf now – well, we’ll see, anyroad.”

Outside in the courtyard, the afternoon sun still shone brightly.  Elrond sat on a bench in one corner, while the twins perched on a low wall bordering the road. 

“I have long hoped – expected – that you would inherit my healing skills,”  Elrond told them.  “Yet I did not expect it until you were more adult.  You are young for this, Elrohir – though it is not unprecedented.  There have been other healers who first discovered their skills unexpectedly like that.”

Elrohir gazed at his father curiously.  “Is that how you knew you were a healer?”  he asked with interest.  “How old were you?”

“I was older that you are, and it was nothing so dramatic,”  Elrond began reminiscently.  “I gradually found myself being able to ease small hurts, to soothe aches and pains and headaches.  Maglor, and later Gil-Galad, saw to it that I received training.   But the first time I saw battle – or rather the aftermath – was a different matter.  There was so much pain and suffering; so much to do.   I did what I could, along with the other healers, but …”  he paused, and smiled at Elrohir.  “I do not quite recall what happened next, but awoke the next morning in an out-of-the-way corner of the infirmary, where no-one would trip over me.”  He smiled again.  “You are not the first healer to collapse from the strain – and you will not be the last.  There is no shame in it.”

Elladan gave his brother a superior look.  “I told you so!” he said triumphantly.

 Elrond nodded.  “I guessed it would be worrying you.  But Elrohir, if you pursue this path, it will probably not be the only time.  You will be taught to control this gift; to judge when to use it, and how much; you will learn to retain awareness of your surroundings while you work – but in times of battle, or disaster, or sickness in the world of men; times when you know you should stop, but that to do so will lead to yet more deaths – it will undoubtedly happen again.”

Surprisingly, rather than being alarmed at this prediction, Elrohir felt oddly reassured.  His father was so matter-of-fact about it all.  “However,”  Elrond continued, now deadly serious, “until you are trained in this – which will not be for many years yet – you are not to attempt healing again.   You may have the gift of healing, but you do not yet have the knowledge or proficiency to use it accurately.  It can be dangerous – as you have discovered.  And worse – there are times when no matter what you do, a patient will die.  I do not want you to face that sorrow and guilt – not yet.   When you are older, you will be trained – you and Elladan.  Until then, you do nothing.”

“I promise,”  Elrohir said solemnly. 

Elladan nodded his agreement.  “And me,”  he added.

“Good.”  Elrond regarded them both.  “And that is not a negotiable promise!”

Elrohir nodded again.  “I know.  I don’t want to feel like that again – it was … odd.  I want to know what I’m doing.  I didn’t, not with Draug.  But I want to learn.”

“And you shall.  You both will.  For now, you will continue to learn basic medicine; herblore and the treatment of wounds.  That is the basis of all healing.  Later, you will learn to use your other skills.”  Elrond smiled, and brushed his hand lightly over Elrohir’s head.  “You did well in a difficult situation – I am proud of you.  But let that be enough for now.”

He stood, brushing lichen from the bench off his tunic.  “Now, off to your room.  Pack and be ready to go – we leave at dawn tomorrow.  Mithlond is still a long way away – our journey has just begun.”