A Planned Event

Chapter 2

Cirdan was on the bow of his ship, peering into the murky sea as the rain that had been falling for days now, had finally abated. He cocked his head to the side listening to…to what, he thought. There it was again, a sort of mewling sound. What would make such a sound out here in the bogs? Telling his first mate to come to a stop, they dropped anchor and before his crew could ask what was wrong, they watched as Cirdan easily dropped over the side, landing with a splash and then sucking sounds were heard as he made his way through the muck. The sound grew louder as he neared the stone arc that was one of the land markers that helped him with navigation.

He saw a flock of vultures fighting each other over something red and meaty, the sinewy strings being pulled apart by sharp beaks. Making loud noises, he scared the birds away, only to gasp at the scene before him. Lying against one of the stone pillars was a pale and dirty Elf. The Elf was covered in dried mud and blood. However, even with all that filth, he could see a squirming beneath the Elf’s shirt. Ever slowly, Cirdan pulled back the shirt and his eyes widened in shock. “By the Valar!” he exclaimed. He felt for breath on the Elf who obviously had just given birth and found she was still alive, for Cirdan assumed Erestor was a maiden. Taking off his cloak, he wrapped it around the weakened Elf’s shoulders. Removing his outer tunic, and reaching for the babe, he carefully wrapped the infant in the rich fabric.

By now two of his crew had come to his side and gasped as well. “How did she get out here?” asked one. They all shook their head in wonder. The two Elves then carried a very light Erestor to the ship, laying him upon one of the small bunks. The baby cried in earnest for he was hungry. Not having anything that they could use as a bottle, Cirdan put the babe up to suckle upon the mother’s very small breast that was already leaking precious drops of nourishment upon hearing the babe’s cries. Cirdan covered Erestor with blankets and told his crew to make haste for they needed to get to Beleriand quickly and to the healers.

Erestor barely registered the wails of his son next to him. Hearing voices, he tried moving but found himself too weak to even blink an eye. He fell into dreams, dreams of lavish halls filled with merriment and luxuries in excess. His mind whirled to a bed, whereupon he writhed in his practiced way only to feel a pressure within him that was never felt before. Lights blinded behind closed eyelids as he screamed in agony while he was breached without preamble…. then hands were rubbing his swollen abdomen tenderly… more screams…heat…fire… the hissing of water penetrated by flame…dead eyes staring up at him from mere inches beneath the surface of the water…walking…rain…despair…. And then he screamed, gasping for air.

The startled babe near him wailed in fright as the silence of the room was broken in the early morning light. Two figures came suddenly into the room, one a healer, the other a king. Blinking, Erestor tried to sit up, his voice raw from dehydration, “my son,” it was barely an audible whisper. Laegon wiped the Elf’s brow as the nursemaid picked up the howling infant.

Helping the Elf to sit up, Gil-Galad frowned at how light this child of Eru was before him. “Sips, take little sips,” crooned the healer as he cautiously held the cup to the parched lips of the lost Elf.

Erestor sputtered and spoke a little louder, “my son,” eyes as dark as a star free night looked imploringly to the healer.

Laegon gestured for the nursemaid to bring the infant over. Reaching unsteady arms up, Erestor gestured that he wished to hold the babe. Looking warily to both the king and to the healer, the maiden did what she was told, placing the still crying infant in its mother’s arms; for she was not privy to the knowledge that the king now had, for this was not a female Elf, but a male Elf, with the ability to carry a child, an anomaly, or perhaps the last of a line of such beings. To say Laegon had been shocked upon examining this Elf for injuries when cleaning the remnants of childbirth, muck and grime away, was an understatement. He had dropped the pan of water he had been holding, the sound of metal hitting tile floor resounding throughout the room.

Erestor snatched his son greedily out of the nursemaid’s hands and instinctively put the wailing infant to his breast to suckle. Wincing at the pain caused by such argent suckling, he tried to turn into himself, wishing these Elves would just leave…just leave him and his son alone.

Gil Galad moved into view as Laegon propped the mysterious Elf’s back with pillows. “Why were you alone in the bogs?” Asked the king as he crossed muscled arms along his strong chest. Erestor did not meet the king’s gaze. Sighing, Gil-Galad questioned this Elf once more. “From where do you hail?”

Lifting his head, eyes filled with hate reached the concerned ones of the king. “The pits of doom,” was uttered through clenched teeth and snarled lips.

TBC…