A Midsummer Night's
Dream
Chapter 3: The Future Foreseen
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As Elladan left the house, he wished fleetingly that his father
was present. Elrond could, if he wished it, influence the weather
in the valley of Imladris – though he rarely interfered with nature’s
whims. Rain – heavy, prolonged, drenching rain – would be most
welcome now. Torrential rain, soaking the forest and
undergrowth, saturating the buildings and barns and roofs. But
his parents and Arwen were away on an extended visit to Lothlorien, and
would be unaware of the impending crisis. He just hoped that
there would be an Imladris for them to return to.
He had barely set foot on the path when the night was vividly lit by a
blinding flash of lightning. Brighter than daylight, brighter
than the sun, it ripped the sky apart. It struck somewhere near
the stables – as he had known it would – but he could not see
where. The noise was deafening, ringing in his ears and
swallowing all other sound, and in the immediate aftermath of the flash
he could still see the outline of the jagged flare, even with his eyes
closed.
Flames erupted from the trees, spreading rapidly. As he raced
along the path that led to the stables, Elladan searched his memory for
every fragment of the vision he could recall. It was difficult,
for although the central scene of the blazing stable was imprinted
vividly on his mind, the peripheral details were vague. Who had
been there? How many horses? More importantly, who had not been
there?
As he grew closer he could see that both the trees and the stables were
burning. He stopped at the edge of the yard for a moment, taking
in the scene before him. It was even worse than that which he had
foreseen. The walls were already well alight, and stacked bales
of hay at one side of the stable blazed furiously. Flames
licked at the thatched roof and leapt high into the air, lighting the
area with an eerie red glow.
A few of the stable-hands passed buckets of water from one to another
in a desperate attempt to quell the flames. Another tried to
catch the horses which had been released. The beasts ran madly
around the yard, initially too panicked to be calmed. He saw
Hithil, her eyes rolling with fear, and at her side a new-born
foal. It now seemed clear to him why Elrohir had been delayed,
but where was he now?
Desperately he searched the yard for some glimpse of his brother among
the elves dashing here and there. More and more were arriving
with every moment, drawn by the commotion. Despite the apparent
chaos there was an underlying order to the frantic activity. The
most experienced grooms sought to catch and calm the horses, while
anyone who could wield a broom beat at the burning undergrowth with
grim determination. Others threw pail after pail of water at the
stable, concentrating on the doorway, keeping the entrance free of
flames so that those inside – elves and beasts – could flee.
There was no sign of Elrohir. Despite his fears, Elladan was not
rash enough to rush blindly into the blazing stable without being
absolutely certain – not that there was any doubt in his mind – that
his foolhardy brother was in there. It would be the ultimate
irony if he himself became trapped while Elrohir was safe and well; and
it would not be the first time that he had misinterpreted a
vision. He would never forgive himself if Elrohir was injured
while saving him. In
desperation he caught one of the grooms as he rushed past, seizing him
by the arm and pulling him around so that they were face to face.
“Elrohir!” he shouted. “Where is he?”
The groom shook his head wildly. “I have not seen him!
Please, my lord – help me catch these horses!”
He and Elladan both dodged to one side as a horse careened past them,
and Elladan released him abruptly. Turning to another of the
stable-hands, he repeated his question. “Have you seen Elrohir?”
The stable-hand did not answer, but his eyes flicked towards the
stable. Elladan shook him. “Tell me! Did he go in
there? Is there anyone else? Who?”
Reluctantly, the groom nodded. “Elrohir and Aradan. They
went to get the horses out. But –” Elladan released him,
and turned towards the stable. Behind him, the elf called vainly,
“But Elrohir told me to stop you!”
Even in the midst of his ever-increasing alarm, Elladan found himself
smiling at that. It was unfair of Elrohir to issue such an
impossible order to the unfortunate stable-hand.
Before he could take a single step, Elladan found that he too was
seized from behind, his arms held firmly. He spun around to
confront his assailant, to find himself facing Glorfindel.
He shook him off angrily. “Leave me! The stable – I
have to reach Elrohir!” He moved toward the stables again,
furious at the delay.
Glorfindel seized him roughly, pulling him back. “Stop this,
Elladan! You will not go in there – I forbid it!”
Elladan stared at him in disbelief. Did Glorfindel really imagine
that he could stop him? “Elrohir is in there!” he snarled.
“I know! And what do you think you can do?” He stepped
aside as another of the horses, wild-eyed and flecked with foam,
erupted from the stable and nearly trampled them both. “Elrohir
knows what he is doing,” Glorfindel continued. “He needs to
release the horses and send them out – the poor beasts will be too
panicked to know which way to go.” He released his tight
grip on Elladan, but did not back down. “Think,
Elladan! Elrohir and Aradan are the best for this task –
you are needed out here. There are not enough of us to prevent
this spreading. If the fire reaches the house …”
Elladan nodded reluctantly. He understood only too well.
After weeks of fine, dry weather, the woods and trees were
tinder-dry. The trees in leaf would be slow to burn, but fire
would spread through the undergrowth rapidly. From Glorfindel’s
view, it was only too clear – their priority was to slow the fire’s
progress and stop it before it was too late.
“But the roof,” he protested. “It will collapse!”
“No doubt,” Glorfindel answered calmly. “There is
little we can do now to save the stable itself. But by then
Elrohir and Aradan and the horses should be well clear.”
“No! Glorfindel, I saw this – the roof will collapse, and Elrohir
is in there!” He drew a deep breath, aware of his incipient
panic. “I saw the fire, earlier this evening,” he explained
more calmly. “I saw the roof fall in. And I saw someone
trapped.”
Glorfindel looked at him sharply. “I see. Elrohir?”
Elladan shrugged. “I could not tell,” he confessed
miserably. “Someone. But it does not matter who it was!” he added sharply.
Glorfindel glanced towards the stable briefly. “Then we must act
quickly. First we must prevent this spreading, then we must
ensure that Elrohir and everyone else is safe.” He turned a
haunted gaze on Elladan. “Trust me – I do not want either of you
to die enveloped in flame!”
Elladan flinched at this brutal reminder. Glorfindel sighed in
exasperation and pushed him away. “Move, Elladan!”
Recovering his wits, Elladan again stopped one of the stable-hands who
was leading a skittish pair of horses away from the noise and confusion
in the yard. “Imlach, how many horses were in there?” he
asked urgently.
“Twelve – thirteen with the new little one. They came out
first. All the others were in the pasture down by the
river.” The groom held the headstalls tightly as one of the
horses jerked his head upwards. “Shh. Do not fret –
we will soon be away from here,” he soothed. “Aradan and
your brother are doing their best,” he added to Elladan, “but now
we need to get all of the horses out of the way. They are a
danger to themselves and us like this!”
Elladan looked around the yard, counting swiftly. Hithil stood in
one corner, the new foal hiding behind her. Four more had
been caught and stood trembling with fear, balking at the idea of
moving past the stable to safety. Two others were still running
loose, defying all attempts to catch them.
There must be only three horses left in the stable, but it meant that
Elrohir would still have his hands full. He moved to where he
could look through the doorway into the stable itself. Amongst
the smoke, flames and heat-shimmer he could see two figures guiding
horses towards the door. He breathed a sigh of
relief. Elrohir was clearly still safe – or as safe as he
could be in the circumstances – and would soon have rescued the last
remaining horse.
He returned his attention to the yard. The loose horses still had
to be dealt with, but those already captured would need to be led to
safety without delay. Who was available? Most of the elves
present were engaged in fighting the fire. By the path at
the edge of the yard he saw a gaggle of young girls, clad only in
nightgowns. They were wide-eyed, wanting to help but unsure what
they could do. He beckoned to them, and they ran to join
him. “I want you to go with Imlach here. Take the horses we
already have, and lead them down to the fields by the river. Can
you do that?”
They nodded earnestly. “Yes, my lord,” one agreed.
“Good. When that is done, come back for the others.”
He did not wait to see them go, but approached one of the two horses
still circling the yard. Moving quietly to its side, he began
talking softly to it, soothing and calming the panicked beast.
Gradually it slowed, then stopped, allowing him to slip a halter over
its head.
Glorfindel joined him again, coughing. “We need more
water!” he gasped. “It is taking too long to carry water
from the stream, and the water trough is too slow to refill.” He
pointed to the slope above the yard. “The pool up there …”
“Yes! If we can breach the bank, and divert the water this way –
if we dampen the undergrowth enough, it will be easier to stop the fire
spreading.”
Glorfindel nodded. “I already have a team working on it.”
He looked at the sky, the stars hidden by dark, towering
thunderclouds. “I wish it would rain. Your father could make it rain.” He glanced at
Elladan. “I suppose you and Elrohir …”
Elladan shook his head regretfully. “No. He uses
Vilya. El and I have no mastery over the ring.”
“Ah, well. I will do what I can.” Glorfindel turned away,
then glanced over his shoulder. “And tell Elrohir to hurry.”
Elladan passed the horse he had managed to calm to Edrahil, one of
Elrohir’s novice warriors. There was now only one horse
still running free, and one still in the stable. All the others
had been caught, and most moved to the safety and calm of the river
pasture. He cast an anxious look back at the stable. There
was still no sign of Elrohir, and the stable roof was now well
alight. Surely it would not be long before his fears became
reality. Raising his voice, he called across the bedlam.
“El! Hurry up – there is not much time!”
A muffled shout reached him through the shouts and roaring
flames. “I know!”
Realising he had to be content with that, Elladan turned to the last
horse, Dúath, who was proving the hardest to catch. He
kept backing out of reach, circling the yard, still too panicked to be
calmed. It was difficult to get too close to him, for he was too
terrified to know friend from foe, and at times would rear up, lashing
out with his hooves, causing those attempting to catch him to leap back
out of range. In the end Elladan threw caution to the winds, and
stepped close, seizing Dúath’s mane. He whispered
tender reassurances, and slowly Dúath calmed as he heard the
familiar voice. “Hush, now. Hush. I know you
are frightened of the fire. It is dangerous, yes it is. It
burns, it kills. But you are safe now.”
At last he stood quietly, and Elladan stroked the soft nose gently,
patting his neck and still murmuring gently. But even as Elladan turned
to call Edrahil, there was another loud clap of thunder, and the horse
reared high again with a shrill whinny. Tearing himself free of
Elladan’s grasp and shouldering him aside roughly, he lashed out
again. Elladan, caught off balance, fell hard on his back, and
lay winded, staring up at Dúath as his forelegs beat the
air. As the plunging hooves came down again, Edrahil darted
forward and grabbed at Elladan’s arm, dragging him away and hauling him
to his feet.
More hands tried to seize the horse, but Dúath, driven beyond
fear by the noise of the storm, evaded them all easily, then turned and
galloped back into the burning stable, seeking the only familiar place
in all this madness.
Elladan swore, furious at himself for releasing his grip, at
Dúath for his blind panic, and at the grooms for not trying
harder. There was no time
for this. Throwing another fearful look at the blazing
roof, he froze, seeing the scene in his visions unfold in front of
him. Smoke billowed across the yard, stinging his eyes and
catching painfully in his chest, and a wave of heat blasted him.
A wall of flame shot up, engulfing the roof completely, and he took an
involuntary step back from the blistering heat.
“El!” he shouted desperately. “Get out of there, now! It is
too late! Elrohir!”
He never heard if there was any reply, for at that moment, with a great
whoosh of flame and a
splintering, snapping, crack of wood, the supporting beams finally gave
way. The roof collapsed inward with a creak and a
groan, and the flames leapt high, engulfing the doorway and
obliterating all hope of escape for those within.
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