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“And get yourself into a bath before dinner, the only way you could have been any dirtier is if you’d rolled in mud deliberately!”
Maedhros sighed at his brother’s words. He could easily guess which boy they applied to.
He waited until Makalaurë had entered the room – which served both as collective study and family dining room as the occasion demanded – to ask.
“What has Elros done now?”
His brother gave him a filthy look that suggested he was somehow responsible.
“For your information, it was not Elros,” Makalaurë informed him. “It was Elrond. You really should reconsider this notion of yours that the healer’s hall is a good place for him.”
“Why?” Maedhros asked. “And how could he have gotten dirty there? From what I’ve seen, Ailiniel is quite keen on hygiene.”
There were no injuries at present, and no incidents had been reported, which ought to rule out the boy coming back from his tutoring session covered in blood.
“Something about learning how to make a remedy for dry throat and things having gone a bit wrong,” his brother sniffed.
Maedhros pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. It was tricky enough trying to raise Elwing’s boys without fighting with his brother on top of it.
He hadn’t seen the current quarrel coming. At least Makalaurë was behaving civilly (if not quite normally) in front of the boys.
It had started when Maedhros had first shared his plan to have Elrond study with Amon Ereb’s only master healer.
To his surprise, Makalaurë had objected. Strenuously.
---
“Are you out of your mind? They’re boys!”
“I’m aware,” Maedhros said patiently. “And only one of them has expressed an interest in healing to me. Elros will continue his training with Handelon, but we owe it to Elrond to let him find his own path.”
“You’re going to put a child of ten in the healer’s hall?”
“I’m going to let a child of ten learn from the only true master healer we have. I’m certain he had something a bit more than just field aid in mind, and that’s all either of us are good for. I can show him how to dress a wound or set a broken bone in the field well enough, but to heal it properly wants a master.”
Makalaurë’s expression strenuously disagreed.
“You say that as if you didn’t spend months in the healers’ care, and several years regaining your strength,” he said, a bitter twist to his mouth. “You of all people know what healing entails!”
Any other time, everyone would dance around that particular time and topic, so Maedhros took it as a sign of just how opposed his brother was to this plan.
“I suspect ‘how to deal with a half-dead former prisoner of the Enemy who had a hand amputated by someone untrained in surgery on top of everything the torturers of Angband had already inflicted’ is an advanced topic,” Maedhros replied drily. “I may know a few things beyond the basics, but Elrond would be far better off training with a master, not someone who has only slapdash practical knowledge picked up here and there along the way.”
He didn’t add that their father would be appalled to hear any son of his advocating having a child trained by anyone less than a master in their chosen craft.
“And if there are emergencies? As there so often are?”
“Master Ailiniel has good sense, and is unlikely to have him assisting with triage anytime soon,” Maedhros pointed out. “I imagine it will be some time before he knows enough to be trusted with the task.”
He chose not to add that sooner or later, both boys would inevitably become acquainted with the sight of blood and death. This was Beleriand. They might put it off for a time, but not forever.
“You push them too hard!” Makalaurë accused.
“I do not,” Maedhros retorted, doing his best to keep hold of his temper. “I am doing as I would for any child of our house – giving them the best education possible and encouraging them to pursue their chosen craft once they determine what that may be.”
“Any child of our house?” Makalaurë snorted. “So you’d have set Tyelpë up in the casualty ward after the first battle?”
“Don’t be melodramatic, the situation is entirely different,” Maedhros said patiently. “Tyelperinquar was toddling after Curvo and Father from the moment he could stand upright. He never showed the slightest interest in healing. Father had him working on simple projects while dandling him on his knee. Curvo started training him in earnest when he was half the boys’ age. I really don’t understand your objection – for all we know, Elrond may well change his mind once he has a chance to see what healing looks like in practice compared to whatever it is he imagines.”
“And what do you suppose he imagines?” Makalaurë demanded acidly. “As you’re the one who put the idea in his head?”
“You overestimate my influence. Flattering as that is, I assure you I had nothing to do with it. Elrond came up with it unprompted, from me or anyone else so far as I have been able to discover.”
“Children don’t just invent things like that for no reason!”
“Do you no longer remember any of our younger brothers’ childhoods?” Maedhros asked in some amusement. “The inventiveness of children can be astonishing by times. Nor can they always account for their interests themselves.”
Tyelko had certainly never been called on to explain why he was so fond of animals and the wilder places in Aman, though that had likely been equally as remarkable in its day as Elrond’s idea.
Besides, this was all grasping at straws – regardless of how he’d settled on it, Elrond wanted to learn about healing. Whether healing proved to be a passing childish interest or a true vocation, Maedhros wasn’t going to quash it without a better reason than Makalaurë had presented so far.
He had his own theories about what might be motivating Elrond, but he dearly hoped he’d get to have a conversation with it at a time when Elrond had a more mature understanding and might be able to analyze it for himself.
“If you’re set on encouraging him, then send him to the library and let him read more about it, research what is involved! The healing hall should not be his first destination!”
“He has already been in the library,” Maedhros sighed. “How have you missed him talking about pharmacology of late? And you know perfectly well that in any craft, there is only so much one can learn from books. Books may be an excellent starting point, but without practice it will only ever be theory. And I hope you’ll agree with me that ‘practice’ in this craft would be better under the supervision of a qualified master, not left to trial and error.”
There might be crafts where trial and error by a novice was unlikely to end in harm – perhaps something purely decorative like flower arranging? – but Maedhros had yet to encounter one in his family. Healing certainly wasn’t one. The last thing he wanted was a descendant of Melian experimenting in that area without a mentor. Good intentions would in no way lessen the danger.
His brother must have sensed he was losing the argument.
“At any moment, that hall can go from empty and calm to bloody chaos, and I am speaking literally,” Makalaurë growled. “It is no place for children, let alone sensitive ones! I might expect this from Tyelko, but from you-”
“We can’t coddle them, Kano!” Maedhros snapped, his patience breaking. “It might seem like kindness now, but I assure you it would be the worst disservice we could do them. No matter how much you might wish it otherwise, the rest of the world is just beyond our walls, and it is not the gentle one we knew as children! They must be prepared for it – and we do not have the luxury of waiting until they are older. The Enemy will make no allowances for their tender age!”
For a moment Makalaurë looked like he might take a swing at him, before turning on his heel and stalking out, slamming the door behind him.
They could probably expect some rather stormy music to debut in the near future.
Maedhros exhaled, deliberately drawing it out in an effort to regain control of his temper. He hadn’t expected the resistance from his brother, and he still had to speak to the healer.
Quite frankly, he’d been expecting Makalaurë to be the easy conversation.
---
Elrond followed Maedhros eagerly down the corridor toward the healing hall.
While he and Elros technically had free run of the fortress, they almost never came down this corridor. Too much risk of breaking the rules about not disturbing adults at their tasks or being a dangerous distraction. They had always known the healing hall was here – it was one of the first places Makalaurë had shown them aside from their own rooms, the bathing room, and the kitchens so they would know where it was if they ever needed it urgently.
So far, they hadn’t. Even Elros, who regularly got into all sort of creative predicaments, hadn’t managed to damage himself badly enough to need treatment here instead of being patched up with a minor scolding in their rooms. (And on one occasion a not so minor scolding, but Elrond knew that was because they’d scared Makalaurë almost as badly as they’d scared themselves. It turned out to be a much longer drop from that wall to the roof below than they had thought. Fortunately, Elrond had decided on climbing, not jumping like Elros had initially suggested. He had fallen when he was halfway down.)
Today was something new. He still didn’t like the lessons on logistics, but as long as he did his assignments for those lessons promptly and satisfactorily, he would have lessons on healing in the afternoons when Elros went to the steward.
At least, he would as long as Ailiniel was willing to teach him.
The head healer was one of the few elves in the fortress Elrond didn’t know, for she rarely left her own hall, unless it was to supervise the gathering of materials she needed. He had sometimes seen her from afar, but never up close.
That changed the second he stepped in the doors.
Ailiniel was right there.
Maedhros put a hand on his shoulders – Elrond wasn’t sure if it was for moral support, to steady him, or because he was proud to be introducing him. Right now, he’d quite prefer it be the first option if he had to pick. He’d always thought a healer would look kind, and Ailiniel didn’t.
Her face was a mass of scars, and he understood at a glance why she preferred to stay within her own hall, for she walked with the aid of a cane and it did not look to be easy going.
“I am still not sure why it is you want me teaching the boy,” she announced, peering down at him.
Elrond tried not to shrink into himself under that gaze.
“My brother and I are perfectly competent for minor injuries,” Maedhros replied. “But I do not believe that is all Elrond wishes to learn. Even if I am mistaken, I suspect he will discover the difference much more swiftly under your tutelage than mine.”
The look Ailiniel gave Maedhros said plainly she thought otherwise.
“As I am not lord of this fortress, I suppose I have little choice,” she snorted. “You’re not the one who can’t go more than five minutes without making some kind of trouble, I trust?”
Elrond realized belatedly that she was speaking to him, and shook his head.
A soft tap on his shoulder from Maedhros reminded him he was supposed to answer aloud.
“No, mistress,” he replied once he’d found his voice.
“The correct term of respect is Master, Elrond,” Maedhros corrected gently. “And that is the same in Quenya as it is in Sindarin. Recall Luthien’s Song – a hîr annûn gilthoniel.”
Ailiniel looked amused, though Elrond couldn’t think why.
“I’ll thank you to let me handle the boy’s Lindarin as well,” she said briskly. “Your accent is atrocious. And since you’re not the master here, away with you. You said the boy is mine until the dinner hour, and I say we’ll get on much faster without you taking up space and making him nervous.”
Elrond wasn’t sure how to say that Ailiniel was making him far more nervous than his cousin ever had, but Maedhros bowed and left before he could say anything even had he known how to phrase it to avoid giving offense.
Ailiniel smiled in satisfaction at Maedhros’ retreating back.
“Never you mind about titles, young one. They don’t matter very much in here.”
Elrond nodded, although he was actually rather confused. But he didn’t want her to conclude he wasn’t worth teaching.
She’d spoken in Sindarin this time, not Quenya like the rest of Amon Ereb used. He noted there was indeed a difference between the sound of Maedhros’ words and hers. But there was also a difference between the sound of her words and Nana’s…or was he misremembering how Nana had sounded? He might well be. It had been several years.
“Follow me,” Ailiniel instructed.
While she moved more briskly than Elrond had expected, her pace was not so fast that he had any trouble keeping up as she led him down the length of the hall and into a small room that must be her office. There were all sorts of fascinating things on the shelves that lined three walls of four - the fourth had only low shelves. From a level with Elrond’s shoulders up, it had windows set into it that would allow Ailiniel to see into the hall beyond while seated at her worktable.
His eye was caught by rows upon rows of small bottles, carefully sealed, containing all manner of things. Some held dried herbs, others what looked like pebbles, still others something that might have been plant or animal in liquid…
“Pay attention, youngster. You’ll learn what’s in all of those in time, but today we start with basics.”
She sat, and waved at Elrond to seat himself also. He did so gratefully. It was a little less nerve-wracking to sit while she looked at him like she could see everything about him, not just his face, his clothes, and his neatly braided hair.
“So you’re Elrond,” she said thoughtfully after a moment. “When they asked me to train just one boy, I expected it would be the one who damages himself more often. What makes you think that healing is something you want to do?”
Elrond chewed his lip, before belatedly remembering he was not supposed to do that. He hadn’t known he needed a reason aside from the conviction that he could do it and wanted to try. What answer would be acceptable?
Ailiniel chuckled.
“In your own time, young one. I’m told you’re the patient boy, which is to the good. A true healer needs patience as much as any herb or powder.”
“I think I might be good at it?” he offered at last. “If I’m trained, I mean. I don’t think I’d be much good right now.”
He tried not to hold his breath as Ailiniel considered that for a very long moment before nodding.
“A better answer than I hoped for. We’ll see how far you get with it, at least. If nothing else, knowing how to patch up that brother of yours properly can’t be a bad thing.”
Elrond wasn’t sure if he was meant to smile at that or not.
“Your cousin may have made a fuss about what you call me, but Ailiniel is the name I was given and I answer to it, regardless of whether someone puts Master, Mistress, or aught else before it.”
“Yes, M- Ailiniel. But Maedhros expects us to be courteous at all times…”
She snorted.
“When a person – be they elf, dwarf, or aftercomer – is badly enough hurt, courtesy goes out the window, young one. Mark that and remember it. Don’t expect to hear ‘prince’, ‘my lord’, or any other pretty words from someone who just wants the pain to stop.”
“Yes, ma’am. But I’m not in any pain right now, so I’ll be courteous and use the title unless you’d rather I not.”
“As it happens, I’d rather you not. When you’re older I may allow it, but it’s ridiculous coming from a boy not even rightly of an age to apprentice. You don’t know enough yet to recognize a Master from someone who just knows how to set a bone or bandage a scrape! What’s more, under normal circumstances I wouldn’t dream of taking on a child so young. I’d tell you to go away and come back again in a hundred years or so. But we do not find ourselves in normal circumstances.”
Elrond nodded. That part made a kind of sense, of a sort he was familiar with from Maedhros but knew Makalaurë deplored.
“And now perhaps you’ll be good enough to ask the question that you’ve been so politely avoiding since you walked in the door. We may as well get it out of the way.”
Elrond nearly swallowed his tongue, but the healer just sat there, waiting expectantly.
How had she known?
“Wh- what happened?” he managed at last, not entirely convinced that this was not going to end with Maedhros bursting in and scolding him for asking personal questions.
“The Sudden Flame happened,” she replied. “I was in Dorthonion with your… he’d be a cousin to you, I suppose? Prince Angrod.”
Elrond cudgeled his memory. They’d learned about all the princes of the Noldor. Angrod was one of Aunt Galadriel’s brothers, so probably some sort of cousin. But he wasn’t any surer of the exact relation than Ailiniel, and didn’t see where it much mattered. Aunt Galadriel’s brothers had all died before his grandfather Dior was begotten. So he nodded, but without any particular conviction.
“At any rate, I lingered a bit too long trying to help others and was caught by the flames myself – there’s a lesson in that for you, as well. Always remember that you do others no good if you get yourself wounded or killed. A dead or incapacitated healer is no use to anyone, not even themself. Luckily for me there were people with more sense about, and they managed to keep me alive until we reached the safety of Nargothrond.”
“But how did you come to be here, then?” Elrond asked in confusion. “I thought people from Nargothrond went to Balar or Sirion when it fell.”
If they’d survived, that was. Most hadn’t.
“I left before Nargothrond fell, to come here at Celegorm’s invitation,” Ailiniel answered.
Elrond noted she hadn’t given Celegorm any title, and wondered if that was important.
“When he and his brother arrived, they asked for volunteers to accompany their warriors to their fortress in the east. They had some healers among their followers, but most of them preferred to stay in Nargothrond. I was angry enough at my losses at the time that I liked the idea of lords who meant to fight rather than hide, and they needed healers badly enough to make sure even one who could barely walk could make the journey. They were particularly pleased to have any of our people willing to join them, for we know more of both healing and Ennor than they do.”
By our people, Elrond knew she meant Sindar. It was a not entirely subtle reminder that while he might be surrounded by Noldor, he wasn’t only Noldorin.
“You followed Celegorm?” Elrond protested. “But he’s a Kinslayer!”
That made no sense. The Sindar avoided kinslayers whenever possible, and hated Kinslayers in particular for their crimes against the Lindar on both sides of the sea.
“This was before they attacked Menegroth,” Ailiniel said crisply. “I didn’t know at the time they’d slaughter my people, did I? I’ve no foresight whatsoever. If I had, I might have avoided my injuries in the first place. Their Oath was sleeping then, their silly jewels all with Belegurth. And I didn’t have much choice after. Celegorm’s surviving brothers would no doubt have let me depart if I asked it, but the odds I’d reach anywhere safely before the wolves or orcs found me were slim, and haven’t improved any with the passing years. So here I am and here I remain, until the fortress falls or they decide to pick up and move elsewhere.”
“But… you’re still the healer.”
Elrond didn’t understand. If she didn’t want to be here, surrounded by Kinslayers – and it certainly sounded like she didn’t have warm feelings about any of them – why would she help them?
“Healers work without regard to what a body may have done before it was brought before them injured, young one. If you don’t think you can do the same, I’ll save us both the time and trouble and send you back to Maedhros now. He can teach you field aid if that’s all it is you want to learn.”
Elrond was not about to give up on his intent to become a healer so easily, but that didn’t sound entirely right to him.
“So if someone had dragged Celegorm in front of you while he was still bleeding from Menegroth, you’d have healed him?” he asked skeptically.
He didn’t believe it for a second. Not the way every Sinda he’s ever heard (including some he hadn’t been meant to hear) talked about the most fearsome of the Kinslayers. Maybe it was impertinent of him to talk about the Second Kinslaying, but they were his kin. On both sides…
“No healer in Beleriand could have saved Celegorm after your grandfather stuck him,” Ailiniel snorted. “I’ll wager no healer in their West could have helped him either, at least no elven one. There are wounds beyond healing. You’ll learn to recognize them quickly enough when the time comes, should you walk this path. But I’ve patched Celegorm’s people back up, and Curufin’s, and Amras’s as well.”
Elrond frowned.
“What’s Amras got to do with it?”
Ailiniel blinked.
Elrond realized he had managed to startle her, though he had the impression that was normally difficult to do.
“Surely you’ve been told he was part of the attack on Sirion.”
Elrond shook his head, feeling rather stunned.
He’d known in a vague sort of way that Maedhros and Makalaurë’s youngest brother was dead, but not when it had happened or how.
Obviously it must have been sometime after Menegroth, because Makalaurë had told him and Elros that Ambarussa had tried to find their mother’s brothers, and passed judgement on the wicked neri who had abandoned them in the woods. But there were many ways for elves to die in Beleriand. He and Elros had never cared to ask which of them had deprived them of Ambarussa, who sounded like he would have been a fun cousin to have around.
“He died at Sirion?”
Even Ailiniel, who had known him for a mere quarter of an hour, could tell that his voice was not normal.
“Aye.”
“Who killed him?” Elrond demanded.
Ailiniel shrugged.
“No one’s ever said. Happen they may not know. Battles are not nice and organized the way written accounts and Noldorin songs like to make them sound.”
“It wasn’t my mother, was it?” he asked urgently.
It was somehow vital to him that it not have been Nana.
“You’d have to ask your cousins that,” Ailiniel said. “If you think it important enough to make them speak of it.”
Elrond swallowed hard. He would not cry before an elf he’d only just met –a Sinda who would probably find it ridiculous for him to be shedding tears over a Kinslayer at that.
“Isn’t it?” he asked.
“Dead is dead, young one,” Ailiniel told him. Her voice wasn’t precisely gentle, but it wasn’t as brisk as before. “If it wasn’t Queen Elwing, it will have been one of her people. But that hasn’t stopped your cousins taking the best care of you they can manage, has it? If they’ve not spoken of it, they’ll have their reasons.”
Elrond pondered that for a minute. The last time they had asked about something their cousins hadn’t spoken about, it had led to the terrible story of the oath Uncle Fëanaro and all his sons had sworn.
“Maybe it isn’t so important,” he said quietly. “I would have liked to meet Ambarussa though.”
He had learned something this afternoon, whether the master was willing to take him as a student or not.
“That’s beyond my power, or your cousins’ either,” Ailiniel replied. “No elf, healer or not, can bring the dead back to us. But I begin to think you may be someone I can train after all.”
She gave him a thoughtful look.
“We’ll make a start, at least. First lesson: hand washing.”
Elrond looked at his hands in puzzlement. He’d washed them after his riding lesson, and they still looked perfectly clean to him.
“Not optional, lad. Hop!”
She gestured emphatically with her cane before getting slowly to her feet. Elrond jumped up, looking to see where she was pointing.
He obediently preceded Ailiniel out of her office to the sinks, curious why she would think he needed a lesson in washing his hands – and relieved she thought he might be worth teaching. It sounded like not just anyone was.
---
Maedhros was pleased to see Elrond return from the healers’ hall in a good mood. It hadn’t been certain that their head healer would agree to train him. Today’s introduction had been a hard-won concession. Then again, the woman had enough tact – not to mention respect for the line of Thingol – to treat the boy gently. He’d likely need to speak to her again to confirm how matters stood.
He was in no particular hurry. Dealing with Ailiniel was as fraught as any diplomacy he’d ever undertaken. He knew she didn’t particularly want to remain in his service or his brother’s, but felt she was unlikely to be welcomed anywhere else.
Her concerns about her limited mobility – a bigger obstacle in her mind than it truly had been even immediately after the debacle at Menegroth – prevented her speaking until conditions beyond the environs of Amon Ereb had become dangerous enough that he would have hesitated to send her with any escort smaller than the one that had returned the boys from Sirion.
By then she’d also had the added worry that none of the Sindar would take her in after so long in the service of Kinslayers. Maedhros would have been happy to try had she been less certain it was a fool’s errand.
After Sirion, he wasn’t sure what her thoughts had been, but he had a feeling that it was only the presence of the three children that had kept her from demanding to be taken somewhere – anywhere – other than here. He’d never asked, but he doubted the only remaining Sinda in the fortress fully trusted him with Elwing’s sons and the girl who’d arrived with them.
So Amon Ereb continued to have a fully trained master healer, albeit one who rarely left her own hall and was happier the less she saw of her ostensible lords. Maedhros did all he could to keep her happy, including keeping contact to the necessary minimum. Anyone else might have felt slighted, but Ailiniel accepted it as him making the best of a bad situation.
He’d approached her about training Elrond with as much tact and care as he’d have undertaken diplomacy with Thingol. He suspected the only reason he hadn’t been dismissed out of hand was down to Elrond being Thingol’s heir. He’d been relieved when she sniffed and conceded she’d at least meet the boy to see if he was ‘suitable’.
It had taken considerable restraint to bite his tongue in response, though he did admit once he had cooled off that it was possible that Elrond might not in fact have the right temperament for a healer. Maedhros was no qualified judge of the matter, and certainly not impartial. But he knew the boy had a quick mind and felt certain the he had a healer’s spirit, and surely that was the most important requirement.
Elrond’s cheerfulness suggested Ailiniel had not found him lacking, which was a relief. Maedhros knew the boy would have to get used to such setbacks and unfair judgements eventually, but he was happy to put that day off until Elrond was older and more confident in himself and his abilities.
For all that, he was not expecting Elrond’s answer to the usual question of what he had learned today to be ‘how to wash my hands’.
It seemed all of them would be learning about unexpected facets of healing.
---
Over the next several months, despite Makalaurë’s grumbling, Elrond spent at least an hour in the healer’s hall most days. Despite occasional mishaps – the attempt at the throat remedy was not the only time things went awry, though it was the messiest– he seemed quite happy.
It was hard to say who was humoring him more when he chattered on in the evenings about what he was learning, Elros or Kano. (It was by times rather amusing to observe.)
But the question over dinner in late Quellë came out of the blue.
“May I have a garden?”
Maedhros glanced at his brother, who looked bemused by the unexpected question.
“Space in the fortress is limited, Elrond. What is lacking in the gardens we already have?” Makalaurë responded, dishing the boy a generous serving of roast carrots. “It is also nearly the beginning of winter. Not much will grow now.”
Maedhros gave his brother a look. He didn’t want either of the boys taking it in their head to hanker for warmer weather this late in the year – or worse, both of them.
“I have been studying the plants used in healing – pharmacology, I mean.”
“Indeed, you’ve shared quite a bit with us about various herbs and barks of late,” Maedhros agreed, pre-empting any commentary from Elros, who would not be nearly as tactful.
“Yes, but Master Ailiniel says that it’s time I get hands-on practice. She says I may assist in the healers’ garden next year but I really ought to have a plot of my own. It isn’t the same working with established plants as starting them.”
The last bit was said in a tone that sounded as though Elrond didn’t quite understand why that would be. Maedhros wondered who would learn more from the experience, the boy or the master – if he didn’t miss his guess, Elrond was unlikely to have many of the usual troubles of a first-time gardener.
The only problem would be finding a place for it. Ailiniel surely wasn’t looking to give up any part of the healers’ garden, and the cooks would have his head if he assigned Elrond any space in the kitchen gardens. The grove also had to stay – in addition to the fruit trees, in the event of a siege, the other trees would be sacrificed for firewood.
And he hadn’t missed that while to Elrond it was a question, to Ailiniel it was surely an expectation. He’d asked her to train the boy, so he couldn’t very well say no to something she deemed essential to his training. Having Elrond ask also saved bother and argument.
The boy might well learn more than just healing from her.
“Nothing will grow now, of course,” Elrond continued blithely. “Planning the garden is part of what I’m to learn, and Master Ailiniel says that it will likely be some weeks of that before I’m ready to think of gathering seeds or cuttings.”
“We will have to think on where we can fit your garden in,” Makalaurë said. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something, but it may not be very large.”
Maedhros blinked in surprise. His brother was still less than enthusiastic about Elrond’s chosen course of study, so for him to be the one in favor of granting the request was unexpected. Elrond was sufficiently delighted not to notice his reaction, and Makalaurë steered the conversation smoothly onward before he could ask.
It was not until later, after they’d managed to get two overexcited boys settled into bed to sleep – Elros might not care about healing, but he was somewhat interested in growing things, particularly if they were edible, and rarely reluctant to share in his brother’s joy – that Maedhros was able to have the conversation.
They were sitting in his brother’s study, Makalaurë enjoying a glass of wine while Maedhros paged through the latest scouting reports.
“Does this mean you’ve finally come round about his craft?”
“Not bloody likely,” Makalaurë snorted. “And bloody is still the part that worries me. Just because we’ve had a quiet few months doesn’t mean it won’t happen sooner or later! But it will do him no harm to learn more about plants and growing things. If he gives up on healing, gardening is a good fallback.”
Maedhros was experienced enough at both strategy and fraternal relations not to let that argument flare back up. He also knew it would do no good to point out that if his brother was expecting Elrond to give up on something he was so determined about, he was deluding himself.
“Where do you see us finding space for him?”
Makalaurë, to his surprise, had a map of the fortress at the ready.
“How about here?” he asked, pointing to the courtyard between the main gatehouse and the innermost gate. “We rarely have need for the full space anymore. It gets a reasonable amount of sunlight the whole year, and the bulk of the fortress shelters it from the worst of winter.”
Maedhros shook his head decisively.
“I don’t want them getting used to the idea that they can or should go below the main fortress on their own. Elrond may be the more responsible one, but you know perfectly well Elros will tag along.”
Makalaurë frowned.
“Elros goes down to the village and the fields regularly.”
“Always with an escort,” Maedhros pointed out. “And I intend it to remain that way. He’s not nearly old enough to come and go as he pleases. Nor do I wish enemy scouts to get the idea that one or both of the boys might be caught vulnerable.”
He was under no illusion that Amon Ereb was not watched, both from afar and from closer at hand. Their Enemy had plenty of birds and beasts in his service as well as Men and orcs.
“Here then,” Makalaurë suggested after a moment of thought, tapping the southernmost bastion. “That small arms storehouse can be taken down, and its contents spread among the other storehouses and guard posts. There may be some grumbling, but it can be done. Then Elrond could have the full footprint for his garden. Everyone is already used to that area being occupied, so no one will be griping that we took something away from their department. We’ll have to haul soil up, of course, but it might do Elrond good to be involved in that as well.”
Maedhros smiled. Yes, it would be as well for the boys to begin to appreciate all that went into the construction and maintenance of a stronghold. This was to be only a small garden, a mere four rangar by three and a half, but even bringing up sufficient soil and mulch to cover that to a reasonable depth would likely be an eye-opener.
“Elrond and Elros, I think,” he replied. “Elrond can take over once it’s ready for him to begin thinking on what plants should go in, but the exercise of calculating how much material is necessary and learning how to transport it is one they should both do. Handelon can supervise on the day.”
Makalaurë nodded.
“I’ll speak to Varilon in the morning so he’s prepared to set them the assignment.”
Maedhros didn’t tell Elrond the decision until the mid-day meal the next day, after matters had been arranged with both the steward and the boys’ tutor.
Both children were so enthusiastic it was as well that their formal lessons were already done for the day.
Elrond would have happily headed straight for his promised garden site had he not needed to finish eating first. Elros immediately began bolting his food until reminded sternly about the manners expected of young princes at table.
“You aren’t missing anything, boys. They won’t even be starting to take the storehouse down yet,” Makalaurë warned. “I doubt they could have cleared it this quickly, Handelon was only just told this morning!”
That wasn’t entirely accurate – in an emergency, the storehouse could have been cleared by now. But this was not urgent, so there was no need to work at that pace.
“That’s all right, I just want to see,” Elrond assured them. “And I can’t stay long anyway. Master Ailiniel is expecting me at the second hour.”
Maedhros didn’t doubt it, but he also suspected Handelon would be out there supervising, which meant Elros would be free to stay as long as the steward did. But he did allow the boys to leave the table earlier than usual – once they had finished their meal at an acceptable pace – so they could go have a look.
He was unsurprised when Handelon reported later in the afternoon that Elros had indeed stayed on, even going so far as to help carry what he could to their new designated storage areas. Handelon hadn’t objected as he’d felt the boys’ enthusiasm had been good for morale. Maedhros mentally translated that as ‘the grumbling stopped once everyone saw how excited they were’.
The boys were both full of what they’d seen and done that evening, and Elrond listened closely as Elros related the process of clearing out the storehouse and making sure that every single thing in it was not only properly assigned a new place, but checked into that new place so it could be found when needed.
“I really should take notes,” Makalaurë grumbled later. “You’ve managed to turn the entire process of indulging the boy into another facet of their education.”
“No reason not to,” Maedhros shrugged. “They need to know all of this. Sooner or later it will be them managing fortresses.”
“I appreciate that you’ve refrained from your usual gloom and not said that to them.”
“They’re already aware they can’t count on us always being around,” Maedhros said. “If I say it too often, they may start to fret that I expect it to happen soon.”
“Good to know you do listen to me sometimes,” Makalaurë sighed.
Maedhros forebore to mention that his brother had objected to him saying it at all, not merely counselled he say it less often.
---
The next few weeks were punctuated by reports from both boys on the progress of the new garden project. Elrond had discovered to his consternation that Ailiniel wouldn’t allow him to begin planning out what should go where until he knew the exact size of the finished plot and the soil composition, so he’d thrown himself into the aspects he normally would have left to Elros with unexpected gusto.
Handelon had had a quiet word with the master healer without letting Elrond know. He was consequently planning to bring up a variety of soils so Elrond could have a few different sections. Loam from fields they’d worked since the fortress construction began, sandy soil, clay, and river silt. That covered all the types in the area around Amon Ereb, and while in theory Elrond should also learn how to work with other types, in practice they had very few plants that required them, and no good way to obtain the soil.
Handelon was also making arrangements to bring sufficient of each up – the boys’ initial calculations had been incorrect and would result in inadequate amounts. But he had argued it would be salutary to let them see the practical results of a miscalculation when it could be easily remedied with no worse than a few moments of disappointment. Better that they learn now why one always verified the calculations and allowed an extra margin than find out the hard way when rectifying the oversight wasn’t possible and might have lethal results.
Maedhros made sure he was on hand to watch on the day – and was surprised to find his brother also in attendance. Any complaining about the bother of hauling so much soil up to the fortress evaporated in the face of the twins’ excitement.
Maedhros ignored the glares as their joy turned to dismay when the boys discovered the error in their calculations.
“Oh no! Elrond, it’s not going to be enough!”
Elros looked as mournful as though a major tragedy had occurred, and Elrond only slightly less alarmed.
Neither he nor Handelon had the heart to let them stew – assuming Handelon’s people would even allow it.
“It would not be enough if Handelon hadn’t double-checked your calculations,” he corrected. “He brought up more than you directed.”
“This is why we tell you to check your work, lads!” Handelon added cheerfully, ruffling Elros’ hair. “Chins up, boys, no real harm done. I’ll just have them bring those extra carts around!”
Makalaurë gave both of them a filthy glare before putting in his bit.
“You will do a better job of double-checking next time, won’t you?” he asked.
Elros nodded emphatically.
Elrond had a guilty look on his face.
“We didn’t check properly,” he admitted. “We worked the calculation together and thought since we both came out with the same thing, it must be right.”
“Next time, at least trade papers,” Maedhros suggested. “Or talk it out as you go. I doubt you both would have made the same error had you been doing that – one of you would have noticed you forgot to account for the depth.”
“We didn’t have enough margin for extra either,” Elros added thoughtfully.
“You might have,” Makalaurë said. “But if it also neglected depth…”
“We will do better next time,” Elrond said firmly.
“There’s a next time?” Elros asked excitedly. “Does that mean I can have a garden too?”
Maedhros bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his brother’s alarmed expression.
“Do you want one?” he asked.
“Yes please!” Elros exclaimed. “But it doesn’t have to be as big as Elrond’s. I just want to grow some of my favorites where I can pick them when I want to.”
“I think we can find you something,” Maedhros replied, hoping he hadn’t just set them an impossible task. Though if the boy was happy with a smaller space, that should be workable…
Several hours later, Elrond’s garden plot was no longer a plan but a real place, and two rather dirty, exhausted, but thoroughly happy boys were herded inside to bathe before dinner.
---
The next few weeks Elrond was full of plans for what would go into his garden, how it was being selected, bits of herbology learned from Ailiniel, and slightly dreamy excitement at the thought of what his garden might look like a year or two from now.
Makalaurë had told Maedhros sternly the first time the boy had mentioned it that he was not to put any damper on it with warnings that the future was uncertain or that there were no guarantees any of them would still be here in two years.
Maedhros wouldn’t have. There was a difference between preparing the children for the future and frightening them about it. So far he’d managed not to stumble onto the wrong side of that line.
He’d also managed to find a rooftop terrace for Elros’ garden, and taken the boy there after the mid-day meal one afternoon.
“I know it’s not as large as your brother’s,” Maedhros said. “But you said smaller would be fine.”
In truth, it perhaps a third the size of Elrond’s, and not all concentrated in one area. It would have to be several separate beds. But at least it was something.
Elros turned around thoughtfully.
“I like it,” he announced. “The flowers can go there, and the strawberries there, and the herbs there.”
“Herbs?” Maedhros asked in amusement.
“There’s never enough basil in the bread I like,” Elros said with a small scowl. “Lerien said if I grow more, they’ll put as much of it as I want in.”
Maedhros managed to keep a straight face at that.
“Anyway, this is much better, it’s closer to my room, and I can see it from the schoolroom windows. So I’ll be able to keep a closer eye on my garden than Elrond can on his.”
“Just as long as you also keep your mind on your lessons,” Maedhros warned.
“Do we get to use pulleys to lift the soil up here?” Elros asked hopefully.
“You may discuss the logistics with Handelon after you’ve done the work to know how much soil you need.”
Handelon reported the next day that those calculations had been done, correctly, and handed to him that very evening. Elros also had his seeds all picked out, and had not gotten too elaborate.
Elrond’s planning was considerably more detailed. The notebook he’d begun keeping was coming on by leaps and bounds. Maedhros privately thought it would have been an admirable effort from a boy twice Elrond’s age, listing plant varieties, their native habitats, needs, uses, how best to propagate them, and any tips or hints picked up from Ailiniel or her staff.
For that was another thing coming on by leaps and bounds – Elrond might have begun as Ailiniel’s apprentice, but he had rapidly become the darling of all the healers. Maedhros might have worried, but he knew Ailiniel had too much sense to allow the boy to be overwhelmed by so many eager teachers or spoiled by too much indulgence.
Elrond chose the moment for his next request carefully.
He waited until they had finished the mid-day meal on a day the boys had no tutoring.
“Maedhros,” he said tentatively. “Would someone take me out to gather medicinal plants? Outside the fortress, I mean? Not everything I’d like to grow is in the gardens, and Ailiniel says the only way to get some of it is to go get it myself. And she said as long as I’m out there, I might as well gather a few things for her as well. It will be good practice, she says.”
Maedhros didn’t even have to look at his brother to know Makalaurë was ready to reject the request out of hand.
But now that Elrond had asked, he should really have seen the request coming. Like any other craft, there was only so much a would-be healer could learn from books or second-hand. Sooner or later, you had to get hands-on experience. And Ailiniel could hardly take the boy out herself.
“Your list?” he asked before Makalaurë could speak.
Elrond handed it over. It had been copied out in the boy’s best handwriting, and numbered in what appeared to be order of priority, if the notes after a few of the later items were anything to judge by.
“You won’t find all of this at this time of year. Winter is no time to be gathering herbs and bark.”
“No,” Elrond agreed. “But Ailiniel said it would likely take some time to plan the outing, so if we don’t go out until the beginning of Coirë…”
Maedhros read a second time, more closely. Yes, it might still be early for some of those things, but it would be workable.
“I’ll need to speak with Pelendur to see if he believes it safe,” he said. “That’s neither ‘yes’ or ‘no’ just yet, Elrond.”
From the expression on the boy’s face, that was more than he’d hoped for.
Maedhros didn’t mention he’d also need to talk to their erstwhile master healer. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew enough to supervise harvesting some of these things.
---
Makalaurë waited until the boys were asleep to share his opinion.
“You aren’t seriously considering this.”
Maedhros looked up at Makalaurë in surprise.
“Of course I am,” he said mildly. “It’s a reasonable enough request – how else is he to gain experience?”
“Ailiniel can train him in the healers’ garden.”
“That’s not the same thing at all and you know it,” Maedhros snorted. “Harvesting from a cultivated garden is much different than gathering in the wild. For a start, nothing in Taur-im-Duinath is going to have neatly labelled tags on it.”
“You’re taking him that far?” Makalaurë exclaimed in strangled tones.
“He’s not going to find much of that list between here and the river,” Maedhros pointed out acidly. “And I suspect Ailiniel checked with the patrols before she handed it to him – she isn’t about to plant ideas in the head of Thingol’s heirs that are likely to end with them dead or taken.”
“She should have broached it with us first before saying anything to Elrond.”
“Would it have mattered? I suspect our answers would have been the same – you’d have said no, I’d have said yes. Nothing on her list is unreasonable, and if she’s running low on it…”
The barks in particular – elves didn’t normally suffer from fever, but if they took wounds from orc weapons, those barks might be the difference between life and death.
“You’re going to get both of you killed,” Makalaurë predicted dourly.
“With healing?” Maedhros laughed. “That would be amusing, wouldn’t it? But I don’t think Mandos has a sense of humor, so I suspect we’ll be just fine.”
---
It took a week and a half to plan the expedition.
As always, when the boys were outside of the immediate environs of the fortress, there had to be sufficient guards to assure their safety – but also deployed in a way so that they were not obvious to the children. Makalaurë might deplore him being too realistic with the twins, but in this one thing Maedhros did try to create the illusion of a normal childhood for them.
A normal childhood, in his book, did not mean seeing a small army around you when you went on a trip to the nearest forest. It also didn’t mean being cooped up in a fortress with no chance to see the wider world.
So he put up with his brother’s grumbling and the acid comments from the captain of his guard and told them both that this was how things were going to be.
Besides, Elrond was more than excited enough to make up for it.
Elros had been invited, but frowned when he heard it would be all about gathering things for the healers and asked hopefully for an outing to the river instead. He’d settled for a special lesson from Handelon on how the water system for the fortress had been built and the promise from Elrond that he could pick the boys’ birthday outing this year – which meant they’d be going to the river.
Elrond had been making preparations as well. He had packed his own small field bag – a notebook (but not his good notebook, which he was unwilling to risk), a guide to the plants of the great forest, and the small tools Ailiniel had recommended for cutting the various plants and barks they were to retrieve.
His clothing and bedding he’d packed under Makalaurë’s watchful eye, lest he leave something needful behind. He’d needed assistance with the bedding in particular – he’d never had to deal with a sleep roll before, as the boys normally went on outings close enough to return to Amon Ereb by nightfall. Taur-im-Duinath was too far for that, though, so it would be Elrond’s first experience of making camp since the journey from Sirion.
He'd fretfully practiced setting up and packing his bed roll several times, and not been satisfied with the results. Maedhros had reminded him he wouldn’t be camping alone, so there would be help at hand. The Elrond-sized sigh that got meant the boy thought that wasn’t good enough, but would have to do.
For all that, he was eager enough the morning their party set out. He didn’t object to riding with Maedhros. While the children all had regular riding lessons, Maedhros wasn’t confident Elrond could safely ride at speed if the guard spotted any threats, so he had to ride with someone. Elros waved them off cheerfully, though he likely dashed back inside the second they left the courtyard.
The weather was clear but still held the crisp chill that meant winter had not quite relented yet. Elrond fell back asleep fairly quickly once they were away from the fortress. Maedhros wasn’t surprised – both boys had been keyed up last night and he doubted they’d properly for more than a few hours.
He woke Elrond mid-morning, when they were further from Amon Ereb than Elrond had been before. He’d considered letting the boy sleep, but both twins were eager and curious about the world, so he thought Elrond would likely prefer to be awake. Judging by the way his head began swiveling about almost at once, he’d been correct.
“Your notebook is in the saddle-bag if you want it,” Maedhros reminded him.
“Yes, please,” Elrond nodded.
He occupied himself for several hours making small sketches and notes about things he saw, which he handed to Maedhros when they stopped at mid-day to eat.
Elrond watched intently as the designated cooks made up a fire and prepared the meal.
“Are we going to learn how to do that?” he asked.
“We’ll add it to your syllabus,” Pelendur laughed. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to practice in the courtyard or possibly the village.”
“Lesson one,” Maedhros said drily. “Fire safety.”
He was thinking less of Elrond than Elros, and having visions of Amon Ereb burning down. Accidentally, of course.
“Both of you stop being so hard on the boy,” one of the cooks sniffed. “Here, young prince. You help me for a bit.”
“They’re both keen to learn, at least,” Pelendur observed as Elrond watched the cooks demonstrate how partially prepared ingredients were quickly assembled into a complete meal with minimal cooking.
“Aren’t most children?” Maedhros asked, leafing through the notebook. He was pleased to see that Elrond’s sketching was coming on just as well as any of his other skills. He’d make sure to let the boy know how proud he was of his efforts.
“Couldn’t say,” Pelendur shrugged. “Haven’t been around many of them since we came to Beleriand.”
After the mid-day meal, it was back to riding.
Elrond was fascinated by the forest as they drew closer, and began peppering Maedhros with questions about it. He was mildly disappointed to be told they would not reach the forest until the next afternoon, and wouldn’t enter it until the day after that, but that evaporated quickly in the face of watching camp being made.
“It’s different than when you brought us from Sirion, isn’t it?” Elrond asked as he watched the tents being pitched.
“We don’t have wagons this time,” Maedhros chuckled. “You’re camping properly this trip.”
“Elros will be sorry to have missed out,” Elrond sighed.
Elros might be sorry, but Maedhros wasn’t. Elros would already have found five forms of trouble in the half hour it had taken to set up the campsite, and probably gone wandering into the woods as soon as they were close enough to boot.
---
The morning was crisp and surprisingly clear – at least, surprisingly if one didn’t account for the young descendant of Melian impatient to get into the forest and start gathering the plant material from his list.
Maedhros noted fond and indulgent smiles all around the dining tent as Elrond ate his breakfast as swiftly as he judged he could get away with, then turned expectantly to his cousin.
“You’ve got your list?” Maedhros asked.
Elrond nodded.
“And your notebook? Bags and baskets to carry what you gather? The buckets Ailiniel sent with you? Waterskin?”
Each item got a nod.
“Everything is in my pack,” Elrond assured him solemnly. “And I have my warm clothes and heavy gloves ready.”
“Very well,” Maedhros said. “But there is one more thing to do before we set out.”
Elrond looked puzzled, but obeyed the gesture to dress himself for outdoors. He followed Maedhros out of the tent.
Maedhros whistled.
The large dogs that bounded up were deceptively friendly in appearance, but they were descendants of Huan and the guard dogs of Himring. They would obey their people, but protect them fiercely against any enemy. Elrond had a younger dog from the same breed, but Maedhros had judged him too small yet for this trip. Eventually Thorn would be just as effective a guard for the boy, but it would be another few years before he was at his full size.
“Glove off, Elrond, and hold your hand,” Maedhros instructed.
Elrond giggled as the dogs solemnly sniffed at him before recognizing that he was a member of Maedhros’ pack. The wagging tails and cheerful barks added a much welcome dose of warmth to the morning.
“This is Nip, and that is Rush,” Maedhros explained. “They are Thorn’s older kin. They will remain close to us as we forage. If you and I are separated for any reason, they will guide you safely back to the camp – follow them as you would an adult.”
Elrond nodded, and acknowledged the dogs by name. That brought a fresh round of canine excitement.
“If they try to prevent you doing something or going in a particular direction, you should stop at once. If they suddenly turn serious or show signs of alarm, heed it as a warning and be mindful of what they guide you to do next.”
Elrond stroked Nip’s head appreciatively.
“Of course,” he murmured.
With most children, Maedhros would probably have tried to teach them the whistle to call the dogs to them, but he was confident that Elrond had no need of that. It would be sufficient for him to call out the names.
“And now,” Maedhros concluded, “we should make a start. The days are still too short for us to waste the sunlight!”
Elrond grinned and turned eagerly toward the forest.
Maedhros made sure to note landmarks as they entered, and to point them out to Elrond as they went. He waited until they had gone far enough in that there was no sign or sound of their camp before he prompted Elrond about what it was they were to gather.
The late winterberries for poultices were easy enough to find – and Maedhros knew enough of the plant to suggest that in addition to berries, Elrond might want to take a few cuttings. It was strictly speaking not the proper time of year for it, but outings to Tuar-im-Duinath were not going to be routine, so the boy should get as much as he could while he had the opportunity.
The healers had been training Elrond for this expedition since he had told them it would be happening, so Maedhros stood back and allowed him to handle the cuttings entirely on his own. He was ready to help if asked, of course, but he thought it better to allow Elrond the time to work it out for himself. The first cutting was tentative, but Elrond took a second from another bush with greater ease.
By the time they’d moved to the third item on the list, it was no longer Maedhros prompting, but Elrond directing what they should do with increasing authority. If he didn’t quite approach the gathering and cutting with the calm air of an old hand, it was primarily due to the excitement and novelty of it. Any initial nervousness had swiftly given way to confidence in his own competence. True mastery would require more practice, but Maedhros judged it an excellent beginning.
Elrond was slightly puzzled at ‘hunter’s arrow’, but Maedhros knew they would be found on boggy ground further on, and more importantly that they should be dug up, removed from the plant, and then the plant settled back in place to grow new tubers. He suggested they leave that for last, though – there was every possibility of Elrond being a soggy, muddy mess by the time he’d gotten a single one, let alone sufficient to deem it a success.
Instead, they moved around looking for the rest of Ailiniel’s list. Maedhros watched Elrond attempt his first tap on a tree to gather sap, and they left several trees with buckets to collect whatever would accumulate over the course of a day.
Pine needles were easy and plentiful, but there was also wintergreen (berries, leaves, and cuttings), thorns from the fish hook vine, mistletoe, various barks that would not cause damage to the tree if taken so early, súriquessë, and snakeroot.
As the day wore on, Elrond tired of walking, unused to tramping around any distance for so many hours. Maedhros eventually boosted him up on his shoulders, letting him down for bursts of gathering, but serving as his legs between times.
“Look, look!” Elrond exclaimed excitedly. “Isn’t that Gilthoniel’s feathers growing on that branch?”
Maedhros stifled a smile, for the name never ceased to amuse him. The fronds were particularly easy to spot with the branches of its host still bare, and glistened with sunlight hitting the snow crystals caught in them – probably what had given rise to their Sindarin name. In Aman, they had been known as Aulë’s beard, and his grandmother had told him the legend was that bits of his beard got stuck in the trees when the Smith visited his beloved wife in her own favorite places.
Maedhros repeated the story for Elrond. He had no idea if the boy would ever meet Rilmë, but if he did, he hoped his grandmother would be pleased to know some bit of her wisdom had been handed on.
No matter what it was called, the lichen was a potent remedy against the sort of wound fevers the Enemy’s weapons often brought on. He only hoped he wouldn’t have to restrain Elrond from overenthusiasm, for this was one of the items Ailiniel hadn’t been certain they would locate.
“Gilthoniel’s feathers is important for healers, but it can also be used for dyes,” Elrond chirped. Maedhros wasn’t sure if he was repeating from memory or reading from his notebook. “Ailiniel says if we bring enough back that she has what she needs, I can try making the dye too!”
There was a momentary pause, then Elrond sighed, “it’s good I’m with you, because I wouldn’t be able to reach it myself.”
“Very true,” Maedhros chuckled, harvesting some at Elrond’s direction. “But you will be gathering some with your own hands.”
“Yes,” Elrond agreed enthusiastically. “But not too much from any one clump. If we take too much, we’ll be damaging the forest.”
“Exactly,” Maedhros nodded, pleased he’d already taken that lesson to heart.
“Do you think we can take any back live? To grow?”
Maedhros had no idea how one would intentionally cultivate it.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “If we find a suitable specimen, we can try bringing it back host branch and all. Perhaps Ailiniel or one of her healers will know how to keep it growing.”
It took Elrond no more than a few minutes to spot a likely candidate, but easily three times as long to not only carefully remove the segment of branch from its parent tree, but pack it for transport so that it had good odds of reaching Amon Ereb still in good condition.
Nip and Rush seemed to find the proceedings interesting, watching intently from start to finish.
By that time, the sun was high in the sky, and it was as warm as the day was likely to get. Their foraging baskets and bags were also close to full. Maedhros suggested it might be time to attempt hunter’s arrow before retracing their steps to retrieve the sap buckets and return to camp before sunset.
He wouldn’t say so, but there was no way he would have Elrond still in the forest after dark.
The slight sag of Elrond’s shoulders said the boy had tired sufficiently that while he did still want to dig the roots, knowing it might be a long time before he would get another chance to try it, he also knew he’d pay for it after.
“Yes,” Elrond agreed, doing a marvelous job of keeping exhaustion out of his voice. “But it’s just as well that’s the last thing. I think I’m going to sleep very well tonight. And so will Nip and Rush!”
Maedhros laughed. The dogs had appreciated the outing as well as the boy had.
He sat on a dry rock and offered occasional hints as Elrond got himself every bit as muddy as expected – and fell in entirely at one point when he misjudged how solid the ground was. Maedhros fished the boy out of the muck with a sigh and hoped someone at camp would have the foresight to be heating water for bathing.
All in all, though, despite the mud, Elrond was triumphant as they collected the last buckets and removed the taps from the trees, singing to close the wound and thank each tree. (Maedhros didn’t fail to notice that Elrond was far more effective at it. If he’d had any remaining doubt that Elrond had found his craft, that would have settled it.)
He was unsurprised that he ended up carrying the bulk of the harvest, the covered sap buckets in particular, back to camp. By the time they reached the edge of the forest, Nip and Rush were close on either side of Elrond, making sure he stayed upright and moving foreward.
“There you are!” Pelendur exclaimed, as if there hadn’t been a loose circle of guards about them the entire day. “We were starting to wonder if you’d be in time for supper!”
“Oh, yes,” Elrond replied, brightening immediately.
“I think you need a bath first,” Maedhros suggested tactfully.
Pelundur’s nose wrinkled. The bog mud was drying, but it hadn’t lost any of its pungence. If anything it was more noticeable now that they were no longer in the forest surrounded by other earthy scents.
“Indeed. And I believe Ercassion should have your bath water ready – he just needs to know you’re back.”
Elrond happily scampered off, the promise of getting clean and being fed lending him a burst of energy.
“I take it things went well?” Pelendur continued after the boy was out of earshot.
“Very much so,” Maedros replied. “If anything, I fear it went too well. We’re likely to be importuned for a repeat.”
“Not if you want Elros to get that river outing,” Pelendur snorted. “Too many of these trips will draw the wrong sort of attention. Besides, there must be medicinal plants in the riverward direction, surely?”
“Let’s hope!” Maedhros chuckled. “For now, we’d best get this squared away. I’m sure Elrond will fall asleep as soon as he eats, and we should start back at first light.”
---
When they reached the courtyard of Amon Ereb, Maedhros was unsurprised to find both his brother and Elrond’s brother impatiently awaiting them. (Elros was young enough to let the lack of patience show. Makalaurë was trying to conceal his, and probably successful enough with everyone except his older brother.)
Elrond started recounting the adventure with such speed and enthusiasm – with Elros egging him on whenever he showed any sign of pausing – that Makalaurë could hardly get a word in edgewise. The boys voluntarily disappeared in the direction of the bath without being prompted, all smiles and excitement, leaving their guardians to a somewhat more measured reunion.
“Well?” Makalaurë said wryly as the two of them climbed the stairs to the family level.
“It was a successful trip,” Maedhros replied. “And I hope you’re not going to take up the argument again about ‘allowing’ him to train as a healer. As far as I’m concerned, Elrond has proven that he has found the right craft. I don’t expect he’ll give it up anytime soon, if ever.”
Makalaurë snorted, but Maedhros pre-empted any comeback.
“We both cared for the trees after he’d finished gathering sap. The ones he handled barely had so much as a mark to show where the tap had been! If you still think he shouldn’t be a healer after that, I’d like to know who you think should.”
Makalaurë was quiet as Maedhros steered them into the study.
“Maybe not immediately,” he said at last, “but eventually healing may well put him in great danger. Do you think he’ll do any better than Ailiniel at paying attention to his own safety when everyone around him, everyone he cares about, is either hurt or endangered?”
That was really the heart of his brother’s objections. Makalaurë wanted the boys safe and happy. Healers were many things in Beleriand – words such as useful and necessary came to mind – but these days safe was rarely one of them. Anyone with the capacity to undo Morgoth’s works, in however small a way, was a threat to him and treated accordingly.
“Perhaps not,” Maedros replied softly. “But I doubt we will improve the outcome of such a desperate hour by forbidding him to follow his heart. When have you ever known that to end well?”
“If you are wrong,” Makalaurë said flatly.
“Then on my head be it,” Maedhros agreed calmly. “I’ve taken on responsibility for far worse causes.
“They’re boys, not causes,” Makalaurë muttered tiredly.
“They are. And we will look after them as best we can. For as long as we can. Now cheer up. Elrond’s going to want to tell you everything over dinner, and I daresay Elros has nearly as much to catch me up on.”