Elladan’s Trials, For Estel

Cindy Goodman
cgoodman@catc.net

Chapter One

Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to love, make haste to be kind! Henri Amul

Four year old Estel giggled as he ran through the garden outside the home where he had lived since he was two years old. Born Aragorn, son of the ranger Arathorn and his wife Gilraen, Estel had been renamed by Lord Elrond of Imladris when he came to live with the Peredhil family after the deaths of his parents. It was for Estel’s protection that his name was changed, for Aragorn was destined to be the King of Gondor, last of the line of Elendil, and the dark forces that ever grew in the world would forever seek to destroy him, thus ending the line of kings forever.

Hiding behind a flowering azalea bush, the boy peeked out to see whether or not the twins were on to his trail. Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Lord Elrond were, of course, quite easily able to trail the boy, but they would never have let him know this fact. Instead they made a great pretense of following all the wrong trails and looking everywhere but behind the pink blooms where their little brother now quivered with excitement as he hid from his brothers.

Lord Elrond had traveled to Lothlớrien to visit Arwen and taken Glorfindel with him. That left the twins to watch Estel while he was gone. They didn’t mind, for they loved the tiny human that brought such joy into their lives after the many years of pain and grief that they’d had after their mother was so brutally attacked by Orcs and then sailed to Valinor. For years the twins had poured out their grief and rage by killing every Yrch they could find, until the very sound of their names struck fear in the hearts of any who heard it. So fierce was their reputation that even humans shied away from the Elven pair. That is, until a two year old bundle of energy entered their lives.

With a great shout of glee, Estel jumped up to reveal himself to the two surprised acting elves.

“Estel, you’re the best four year old hider in all of Rivendell!” laughed Elladan, the older twin, as he scooped up the boy and tickled his tummy.

Estel squirmed in the twin’s arms. “No fair, Dan,” he laughed. Silver blue eyes crossed as he put his nose right against his brothers. “Don’t tickle!”

“All right, Estel,” Elladan laughed, pulling his face back so that he could uncross his eyes. Giving the boy a big hug, he turned and tossed him to his younger twin, Elrohir. “Catch!”

Estel screamed in delight as his brothers continued to play toss with him for a few minutes. Finally Elrohir called a halt to the game when he feared Estel would become dizzy from the excitement. He hadn’t forgotten the last time that had happened and Estel had ejected his lunch all over Elrohir, much to Elladan’s delight. “I think we’d better sit down for a while and play a quiet game.”

“No, Ro,” Estel whined, “wanna play!”

“I think you are in need of a nap, tithen pen,” Elrohir answered.

“No I’m not,” yawned Estel. “I’m a big boy now.”

“That you are,” agreed Elladan as he sat down on the grass and leaned back against a large decorative rock. “Come here, Estel, and I’ll tell you a story.”

Elrohir settled next to his brother while Estel snuggled on Elladan’s lap. Sleepy eyes looked up at the twin in expectation and Elladan knew that it would be only moments before the little one was fast asleep.

“Let’s see,” he began. “Long ago there was a mean, ugly troll named Elrohir that lived in the Misty Mountains.”

“Hey!” came the indignant reply from his side.

Estel smiled and stuck his thumb into his mouth. Elladan knew that he should probably do something about it since his father had been trying to break the child of the habit, but he didn’t have the heart to discourage him, knowing that Estel had only adopted the habit after the deaths of his parents. He decided that it was his prerogative to indulge his little brother and carried on with the story. Sure enough, within moments the boy was fast asleep.

The twins sat in companionable silence just enjoying the warm afternoon and listening to their little brother’s deep breaths. In truth, neither of them had ever expected to feel such peace again…had never dared to believe that they would feel anything but rage and hatred. Estel had changed all of that. All of the negative feelings had been transformed into an amazing amount of care and protectiveness towards this little human. Perhaps Lord Elrond had had more than just the hope of man in mind when he named Estel, for he had also become hope for his twin sons. Estel had reached into their lives with a healing touch that Lord Elrond had never dreamed possible.

Watching the sleeping child, Elrohir broke the silence. “Ada doesn’t want him to suck his thumb.”

Elladan couldn’t help but chuckle as the thought about the scene they’d witnessed a week ago.

Lord Elrond looked at the four year old with compassion. “Estel, if you continue to suck your thumb your teeth will be misaligned. This will help you remember not to put it in your mouth.” He held up of bottle of pepper sauce to show the boy. “Now give me your thumb, please.”

Estel obediently held out his thumb to be “painted” with the sauce. “There now,” the elf Lord said with satisfaction. “This worked perfectly on the twins.”

Both the twins winced at the memory.

“Yes, Estel,” said Elrohir, “Ada painted our thumbs every night.”

“We even tried to wash it off after he left the room!” added Elladan.

Lord Elrond raised an eyebrow at that statement. “I never knew that!”

The twins just laughed and tucked Estel into his bed. With one brother on each side of him and his Ada standing at the foot of the bed Estel felt safe and happy. The boy also felt extremely satisfied for he had managed to “prank” both of his brothers and his Ada.

Estel was a very determined little boy, and though he had dutifully given Lord Elrond his thumb to paint, it was not the thumb that he sucked each night; it was the other one! All he had to do was wait until his Ada and gwadors left the room and he could comfort himself right off to sleep with his thumb tucked securely in his mouth.

“What are you thinking?” questioned Elrohir.

“I was remembering when Ada painted Estel’s thumb with the pepper sauce…the wrong thumb!”

Both twins laughed at the memory. They had gone back into Estel’s room later that night to check on the lad only to find the boy happily sucking his thumb and smiling his way though a dream. They were suitably impressed with their tithen gwador and had never told their father what they’d witnessed.

As the sun made its lazy path across the western sky, Elrohir sighed contentedly. “Elladan, look at him. He is so small and vulnerable. Death stalks a mortal in so many ways." Elrohir paused to watch Estel’s eyes moving beneath his eyelids. “He dreams. I wonder if it is a good dream or if the nightmares have returned? He’s innocent, and yet the evil of the world has already touched his life.” He shook his head sadly. “I swear to you I will never let it hurt him again so long as I can stop it.”

Elladan looked at his twin and nodded. He laid a gentle kiss to the top of Estel’s unruly hair and placed his hand on Elrohir’s shoulder. “And I swear that I will never let the evil touch either one of you so long as I can stop it.”

Elrohir smiled and jumped to his feet. “Come, it’s too beautiful a day for gloomy thoughts. Let’s put Estel in his bed and go do some target practice.”

“Brother, that is an excellent idea, even if I didn’t think of it!”

Elladan carried Estel upstairs to his room which was placed across the hall from his own. Elrohir pulled back the covers while Elladan laid down the sleeping child. Estel immediately turned over on his side, hugging the pillow as he did every night. It was the only way he seemed able to sleep, with his pillow grasped securely and his thumb in his mouth. He looked quite contented. Elrohir pulled the heavy draperies closed casting the room in a soothing shadow. The boy looked incredibly small beneath the intricately carved headboard depicting a hunting scene. They made sure that he was sleeping soundly and, leaving the door cracked open, they made their way back down stairs stopping only to retrieve their bows and a good supply of arrows. Estel usually slept for two hours or more in the afternoon so they should have plenty of time to practice.

Reaching the bottom of the carved marble staircase that dominated the entry hall of their home, the twins saw Lord Erestor, Seneschal to Lord Elrond, walking out of the library. “Ah, and what are you two young ones up to this afternoon? And where is Estel?” The dark haired elf lord had known these two their entire lives and had been the recipient of their pranks more times than he cared to admit. It was, he knew, always wise to be on your guard when any where near the vicinity of Elrond’s twins!

The truth be known, Erestor, as well as the rest of the inhabitants of Imladris would have them no other way. For too many years they had all watched the twins riding from the Elven sanctuary to rain death and destruction down upon the evil that roamed middle earth. For long months the twins would be absent only to return, as often as not, injured and bedraggled. Rather than healing, each trip seemed to bring the pair more torment of soul. All of Rivendell mourned for the twins, for the bitterness of their hearts cast a pall over Lord Elrond and the entire valley. Yes, he thought, he would take their pranks in stride and praise the Valar that the twins had found peace of mind and heart.

“We’re going to the archery fields, Erestor,” answered Elladan. It wasn’t that Elrohir couldn’t answer for himself, but he just naturally deferred to his twin. Elladan had always been the spokesman for the pair.

“Estel is asleep,” chimed in Elrohir. “Will you please listen for him?”

“I will, indeed,” answered the elf lord. “Enjoy your practice.”

The twins laughed and joked as they made their way to the archery field. It was the never-ending way of them to be locked in competition against each other. Yet at the same time so in tune were they that they could fight almost as one being, back to back with each anticipating the move of the other. It made them a deadly combination when they were required to fight. Elven immortality made for long years of practice and the perfection of defensive skills. Add to that the innate speed and grace of the first born and they truly become a force with which to be reckoned.

The bows the twins used were their pride and joy. Gifted to them by their maternal grandparents, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, they were of the finest craftsmanship in all Arda. The elves of Lothlớrien were famous for their bows. They were the perfect blend of weight, balance, strength, and beauty, and had been made exactly to measure for the twin sons of Elrond. Crafted from a single piece of mallorn heartwood, the bows were each covered in carved leaves and vines. Delicately intertwined in the vines were the twin’s names as well as those of their grandparents.

Estel’s dreams turned into the recurring nightmare…the one that often sent him running to his Ada’s bed in the middle of the night. The bad ones were there again. The bad ones wanted to hurt him. Before he was even fully awake Estel was off the bed and running for the door of this room. Turning to his right, he ran next door to his Ada’s room only to find it empty and quiet. Across the hall were the rooms of the twins, but they too were unoccupied. Estel was terrified that he’d been left behind and ran for the steps. Surely someone would be here to help him. He knew in his heart that his family would never leave him, but he was still caught in the throes of the nightmare. “Ada? Glorby?”

Estel had never been so frightened. He ran down the stairs as fast as he could. The tears ran down his face. He was close to the bottom when his foot missed the stair and the child pitched forward, falling down the last four stairs. He hit his face on the base of a large marble statue at the foot of the stairs and his world went black. A pool of blood began to spread around the child.

Translations:

Peredhil:  Half-Elven

Estel:  Hope

Yrch: Orcs

Tithen pen: Little one

Ada: Daddy

Tithen gwador: Little Brother

Elladan’s Trials, For Estel

Chapter Two

Traveling the Dark Journey

Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to love, make haste to be kind! Henri Amul

Elladan had just raised his bow for another shot when his keen Elven hearing picked up the sound of Estel’s cries. For one, brief horrified moment his eyes met Elrohir’s before they both dropped their bows and ran for the last homely house.

Elrohir and Elladan reached the house just moments after Erestor had knelt at Estel’s side. Estel’s screams were piercing and like a dagger in the twins' hearts. “Erestor, what happened?” Elladan shouted over the hysterical cries.

“It appears that Estel fell down the stairs,” responded Erestor. “He lost consciousness for a moment and his lip is terribly cut, but I can see no other injuries. Come; let us take him to the healing wing.”

Erestor moved to pick up the child, but Elladan’s arm on his shoulder stopped him. “I will take him, Erestor. Elrohir and I will take care of him.”

Erestor hesitated for only a moment. He was no healer, but at the same time he knew what an ordeal it would be for either of the twins to have to work on their little brother. The elf lord inclined his head. “As you wish, but please let me know if there is anything that you need.”

“I will, Erestor, and thank you.” Elladan returned the elf lord’s nod as he gently picked up the panicked child. Little arms went around his neck like a vise, and the twin could feel the child’s blood soaking his tunic.

Elrohir had hurried to gather the supplies they would need as Elladan carried Estel, trying all the while to quiet the frightened and traumatized child. The site of all the blood pouring from his mouth, combined with the pain and the remnant of the nightmare had made him frantic.

Elladan spoke in soft Elvish trying to calm his baby brother. His heart was in his throat as he thought about what he was going to have to do. Laying the child onto the table that Lord Elrond used for examinations, Elladan and Elrohir stayed on each side of him trying to hold down his arms so that they could get a good look at his mouth. “Dinen, Estel, be still!” Elrohir begged the child.

The terrified screams were almost more than they could take. Elrohir soothed his brother while Elladan gently probed the cut that ran through Estel’s top lip. “Estel, Sîdh, tithen pen, pận natha mae.” Peace, little one, all will be well.

Estel’s sobs turned to quiet gulps as he tried valiantly to be a big boy for his gwadors. His bottom lip quivered and huge tears rolled down his face. Even though his lip hurt terribly, he wanted to be brave for his brothers.

Elladan met Elrohir’s eyes above their brother. “Prepare a sleeping draught for him to drink, Elrohir. I will need to sew the lip.”

Estel lost his fight to be brave when he heard those words. His wail of fright was not loud but it was heart rending to his brothers.

Elladan smoothed back his brother’s hair form his forehead and soothed the frightened child. “Avo ‘osto, Pen neth.” Do not worry, young one. As his hand smoothed Estel’s hair, he felt the lump that had formed just above the hairline. Concerned, Elladan began to probe the lump and look closer at Estel’s eyes. He found what he feared; the child’s eyes were slightly dilated. He also found bruising on the scalp around the lump.

Estel whimpered as Elladan probed the lump. “Dan, you look fuzzy.”

“Elrohir, hold. We cannot give him a sleeping draught. He has a concussion.”

Elrohir met his brother’s eye as he slowly lowered the herbs he was mixing. “I will get some clove oil. We can deaden the lip with that.”

“Good. While I tranquilize the lip, mix him a mild sedative. I would like him to be as relaxed as possible.” He smiled down at Estel as he spoke to Elrohir. “It will be well, little one. You trust me don’t you?”

Impossibly large silver eyes looked up at Elladan. They were watery from tears, but were gazing at him with absolute faith. The hope in those eyes humbled the immortal and Elladan was hard pressed to keep the tears from his own eyes.

Elrohir finished mixing the sedative and brought it over to the table. “Can you drink this, Estel?” Elrohir propped up his brother and helped hold the cup as Estel’s little hands went around it.

Estel brought the cup up to his mouth, but then stopped as fresh tears fell from his eyes. “No, it hurts, Ro.” Blood was still flowing freely from the cut which also interfered with the child’s attempt to swallow.

“All right, little one, just lie back. The clove oil will have to do then.” Elrohir leaned over the table so that he could hold Estel’s arms as Elladan began to gently dot the clove oil onto the cut.

Estel tensed but didn’t jerk. Never-the-less, Elrohir was prepared to hold down his arms should the need arise. Elladan would need the child to be as still as possible as he sewed the cut. Elrohir could see the dread in his twin’s eyes as he prepared the thread. Neither one would hurt Estel for the world, but this would bring pain to their little brother and there was nothing they could do to prevent it. It simply had to be done so that the lip could heal properly. Now he understood the true meaning of the dreaded phrase, “This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you.” Under different circumstances he might have laughed at the thought.

Suddenly Elrohir had an inspiration. “Estel, hold my hands. Hold them as tightly as you wish and squeeze them all you want if you need to.” This would be much better than attempting to hold down the frightened child and would give Estel a feeling of control over the situation. Elrohir could still move to hold the child’s arms if the need should arise, but he didn’t now believe that it would. “You are brave, Estel. The bravest boy I know.”

Pride shone through the tears in the boy’s eyes.

Elladan looked down and Estel and smiled. “I’m not going to do anything to you without telling you first, Estel.”

Estel nodded to his brother and let go of Elrohir’s hand long enough to reach up and place his little hand against his brother’s cheek. That simple gesture of trust was almost Elladan’s undoing.

Sensing his twin’s struggle Elrohir smiled and Estel and squeezed his hand. “You know, tithen gwador, with the scar that will leave you are going to look like a real warrior.”

“Really?” breathed the boy. He would have smiled at the thought, but the injury to his lip made the motion impossible.

“Really,” affirmed Elladan. “Are you ready?”

Estel sobered again, but nodded bravely to his brother.

“Hold my hands again, Estel,” encouraged Elrohir. “Squeeze them as tightly as you can and don’t move.”

Elladan leaned over his brother and began sewing the lip. Estel stiffened but did not move his head as Elladan quickly put in the necessary stitches. He blocked out all else as he worked, intent on keeping the stitches small and even to prevent any more scarring than necessary and yet insure proper healing. The lip would be a difficult place to heal with the constant moisture and movement of the site.

“That’s it, Estel, squeeze tightly,” Elrohir soothed and encouraged his little brother. “When did you get so strong, baby brother? With a grip like that you’ll be ready for the long bow any day now.”

Estel’s eyes widened and flew to his brother, but he didn’t move his head.

“That’s right, little one, keep very still for Elladan. It’s almost over now.”

Sure enough, Elladan straightened and smiled at his brothers. “All done… You did very well, Estel. I’m proud of you, tithen pen.” He picked up the child and enfolded him in a bear hug as he rocked back and forth. “All done, Estel, all done...”

Estel was content to rest his head on Elladan’s shoulder and be soothed by the twin. He felt incredibly safe in his gwador’s arms and his lip didn’t hurt nearly so much now.

“Elrohir, please get me some arnica. I will need to apply that around the lump on this little fellow’s hard head.” He smiled as he said that last bit. “We’ll also need a small wintergreen poultice to apply to over the lip for a bit. That will help with the pain.”

Elrohir moved over to his father’s work area to secure the herbs. His strength was in the making of herbal remedies and he spent long hours being taught by his father. He loved working with the different compounds and learning about the plants and fauna and their natural healing powers. He turned back to his brothers with the arnica. “Here, apply this while I make the poultice.”

Elladan took the arnica and sat Estel back on the table. “Here Estel, you hold the jar while I apply the salve. Does your head hurt?”

Estel nodded slowly.

“Am I still fuzzy?” inquired the twin as he gently massaged the arnica into the bruising and over the egg sized lump.

Estel nodded again.

Elladan smiled. “That is because of the blow to your head. It will pass, as will the headache. In the mean time this will help.”

Estel yawned; his eyes were growing heavier with each passing moment. “I’m sleepy, Dan.”

“No, Estel,” Elladan and Elrohir responded at the same moment. They locked eyes and Elladan continued. He kept his voice even so as not to alarm the child. “You must stay awake, tithen gwador.”

“Why don’t we take Estel out to the archery field?” Elrohir suggested. “We can get our bows, and on the way back we can go by and look at the fishes.”

“The bishes?” Estel asked excitedly! He forced his eyes open at the thought, for he dearly loved it when he was given the opportunity to visit the pond on the far side of the archery field. It was a small secluded pond that was brimming with gold fish, some of them were a foot long or more and Estel could watch their shimmering colors for hours at a time. Normally it was Glorfindel that would take the boy there while his brother’s practiced their archery, so this was going to be a special treat for him.

“Yes, the BISHES,” Elrohir assured. Normally the twins would try to correct the child’s pronunciation, but today he could get away with anything and they would not care. He would learn to say his “f’s” when the time was right, and at the moment they didn’t care when that was.

O-o-O-o-O

It was late in the night when Lord Elrond and Glorfindel returned to Imladris. They were not expected for several days yet, and certainly not expected to arrive in the dead of night, but the elf lord had felt a premonition some days previously that all was not well at home, and had insisted that they leave immediately for Imladris.

If Glorfindel was surprised at their sudden leave taking he didn’t show it. He was used to his friend’s far sight and trusted his judgment completely. Besides, he thought ruefully, when the twins were involved it was best to expect the worst!

Upon entering the house Elrond went first to his youngest son’s room. It was empty, though the bed was unmade. As Estel often came to either his or the twins rooms after having a nightmare, he was not overly concerned. However, when his anxiety raised a notch when he found the twins rooms empty as well.

It was then that he noticed a dim light coming from his own room. Moving quietly down the hall he paused in the doorway and sighed in relief. There, piled into his bed, were his three sons. The twins lay on either side of Estel. They had brought Estel's night light with them and it cast soft shadows on the wall as it gently illuminated the room.

Elrond was standing there smiling as Glorfindel walked up beside him and looked over his shoulder. “Now that is a scary site. They look altogether too innocent.”

Elrond raised his eyebrow and glared at his long time friend. “Are you impugning the character of my sons?”

Glorfindel just laughed softly. “Me, never, my lord.” He put his hand on Elrond’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “It would seem that all is well, my friend. I am glad, for all our sakes.”

Elrond continued to smile at his sons, committing the sight to memory. He supposed he would hear the story of how they all came to be sleeping in his bed in the morning, but for now he would just enjoy the scene before him. For all of his days this would be a cherished moment for him to remember.

From the bed came a small whimper and Estel turned over onto his back revealing the horrendous injury to his upper lip. Elrond’s breath caught in his throat as he surveyed the damage and realized who must have had to do the sewing. He silently berated himself for not being here when his youngest needed him.

Yes, there would be much to hear in the morning, but for now he would leave the young ones to their rest. Walking over to the foot of the bed, he inspected the cut as much as he could without waking the child. The swelling had nearly doubled the lip and there was a redness forming around it that he did not like. He decided to spend the night resting in a cushion filled chair by the bed in case Estel should wake and need him. In truth, he was loathe to leave Estel as well. Even though he could see that his sons were safe, if not wholly sound, right in front of him, he could not shake the feeling of unease which had brought him racing back to Imladris in the middle of the night.

Elladan’s Trials, For Estel

Chapter Three

Test of Trials

Our trials are tests; our sorrows pave the way for a fuller life when we have earned it.--Jerome P. Fleishman

Elrond Peredhil allowed himself to drift into a light sleep. As a healer he had trained himself to awaken instantly at the slightest need of his patients, and so it was that the slight whimper from his youngest brought him immediately to wakefulness. He stood up and leaned over Elladan to check on Estel. What he found alarmed him.

He could see that Estel burned with fever and his lip was even more red and puffy. Elrond placed his hand on Estel’s forehead to verify his initial reaction and was surprised at the heat radiating under his hand.

His touch roused the child who looked up at his father with bleary eyes. “Ada?”

At Estel’s spoken word, both twins awoke.

“Ada,” Elrohir breathed, “When did you get home?”

“Ada,” Elladan echoed, “I’m so glad you’re here. Estel…”

“I know, Elladan,” the elf lord interrupted. “Peace, it looks as though you did a fine job with the stitches.”

Elladan seemed slightly unsure of himself. “How do you know it wasn’t Elrohir?”

Elrond just smiled as he reached across his older son to take Estel into his arms. “I know my sons. Elrohir prepared the herbs and poultice, did he not?”

“Yes, I did,” smiled Elrohir fully awake now. “It has been many years since we slept in your bed.”

Elrond smiled as his hand rubbed small soothing circles on Estel’s back. “Yes, not since your mother was here and you were very young Elflings. Those were good times. I would have them again.”

“Ada? Is Estel all right?” questioned Elladan.

Elrond hesitated only a second, knowing Elladan’s tendency to take responsibility for any and everything. “He has a fever, ion nín.”

Elladan jumped up and placed his hand on his baby brother’s forehead. “Valar, Ada, he’s so warm!”

“It will be well, ion nín. You know it is the way of the mortals.”

“What did I miss?” gasped the distressed elf.

Elrond could see the doubt in his son’s eyes. “Elladan,” he assured, “in all likelihood you missed nothing at all.”

“But Estel burns,” argued Elladan.

Elrond wished he could convince his oldest that he bore not fault for the situation. “From what I can see you did an excellent job.”

“Ada?” came the muffled word from Elrond’s shoulder interrupting the hushed conversation between the two immortals.

“Yes, penneth, I am here,” he soothed the child.

“I’m thirsty,” murmured Estel.

“Then we will get you some water to drink. Would you like that?’

The sleepy child just nodded his head and closed his eyes again.

“I will get Estel some water,” volunteered Elrohir as he rose from the bed where he had been listening to the exchange between his older twin and his father.

Elrond sat back down into the overstuffed chair where he had been napping. He settled Estel comfortably in his lap and smiled down at the child while he better examined the stitched cut.

Elladan kneeled beside the chair. “He also has a lump on his head, just above the hairline. Along with a headache, his eyes were dilated and his vision was blurred. We could not give him a sleeping draught because of it, and we kept him awake for another twelve hours.”

Lord Elrond smiled and raised his eyebrow at that. “That must not have been easy.”

Elladan chuckled softly at his father’s massive understatement. When Estel was sleepy their sweet little brother could turn into a raging warg, unhappy with everything. “No, it was not,” agreed Elladan.

The elf lord was pleased to see that his small ploy had worked and Elladan’s spirits were momentarily lifted and diverted from the guilt that he was taking upon himself. His fingers gently probed the lump on Estel’s head as he listened to Elladan.

“It took a trip to the pond, an archery demonstration, a ride on Celos…”

Lord Elrond’s eyebrow took another hike that this bit of information, for Elladan’s stallion Celos was large, fierce, and quite a handful for even Elladan to handle on occasion. Celos and Celon were, of course, identical like their masters. The stallions were snow white and the two of the most powerful Elven horses in Rivendell. The pair had been a begetting day gift for the twins from Gandalf four years ago. Celon was everything that a good Elven horse should be, but Celos seemed to have a mind of his own. Fiercely loyal to Elladan, he still could become feisty when the mood struck him.

Seeing his father’s reaction Elladan hastened to reassure him. “I promise, Ada, Celos was on his best behavior. We only walked gently along the trails to keep Estel awake and interested.”

Elrohir came into the room then carrying a pitcher of water and a goblet for Estel. He poured the glass full for his brother and sat the pitcher down on the bedside table.

Elrond sat up straighter in the chair and spoke gently to Estel. “Here is your water, ion nín.”

Estel smiled weakly at Elrohir as the elf helped him hold the glass to his injured mouth. It was awkward and difficult for the child to drink, but he managed to get some of the precious liquid down his throat.

Lord Elrond was not pleased with how little the child managed to drink. “Estel, try some more. Your throat must be quite dry by now.”

Estel nodded for his father and tried to drink some more. It was obviously painful.

The elf lord rose from the chair with Estel in his arms. “Elladan, take Estel while I make another poultice for his lip.”

Elladan took the boy from his father’s arms.

“Elrohir, come with me please. You can make some tea to lower his fever while I make the poultice.”

Elladan soothed his brother as their father and Elrohir left the room. He couldn’t help but frown at the warmth he felt radiating from Estel. It frightened him more than he cared to admit.

“Dan?” murmured Estel.

“Yes, tithen pen, I’m here,” cooed the twin softly. “Pận natha mae .”

Feverish eyes looked up to meet Elladan’s. “I’m cold.”

“Well now, I believe I can remedy that situation.” Elladan laid Estel back down onto their Ada’s bed and crawled in behind him. Rolling them over onto their sides, he spooned his little brother up against him and pulled up the soft blanket they’d brought in from Estel’s room last night.

Elves did not suffer from the temperatures like humans did, so Lord Elrond had furnished Estel’s room with blankets of the softest and warmest quality possible. The two brothers were now cocooned in Estel’s favorite, a buttery yellow one as soft as the down of a new chick. Estel called it his sunshine blankey. “Better now, little one?” Elladan questioned.

“Um hum,” came the soft response, and Elladan’s chin was bumped as Estel nodded his head up and down.

Estel put his thumb in his mouth but whimpered when pressure was put on his swollen, throbbing lip. He pulled it back out quickly and just kept it close to his chest.

Elladan wished he could grant his brother that small measure of comfort and his heart ached at his inability to do so. “Here Estel,” he purred soothingly has he wrapped his larger hand around that of his little brother.

Chubby little fingers wrapped around the elf’s thumb and brought a smile to the immortal’s face. “Better?” he questioned.

Soft bumps to his chin gave him the affirmative answer he was seeking as the little one nodded again.

Lord Elrond worked efficiently beside Elrohir in his laboratory. As he quickly and skillfully put together the poultice for pain remedy, for he had done so quite frequently over the years for his twins as well as for many warriors, he questioned Elrohir. “How was Estel injured?”

Elrohir sighed softly as he worked to grind the Echinacea root to be added to the tea that he would make next. Waiting to be prepared and included also were the tiny white yarrow flowers. Although quite bitter when put in tea, together the herbs had proven to be effective in reducing fever in humans and especially effective when they had been given to Estel on previous illnesses.

“Estel was taking his nap, Ada, and we were on the archery field. Apparently he had another of his nightmares and was running to find us. Lord Erestor found him at the bottom of the stairs.” Elrohir carefully put down the grated root and turned to face his father. His back rested against the ancient worktable as he pleading eyes sought pardon from his father. “We came in with all speed as soon as we heard his cries, but we were too late to prevent his fall.” A tear slid silently down his cheek as he lowered his head in shame. “He could have been killed. You left him in our care and we fail you both.”

His father’s hand cupped Elrohir’s cheek and gently nudged up the younger elf’s face. The compassion in his Ada’s eyes brought Elrohir in to his father’s healing embrace.

“Elrohir,” he consoled, “I did not question you to lay blame. By ascertaining what happened I hope to understand why he now suffers a fever. That is all.”

Elrohir stepped back and nodded his understanding, though Elrond’s eye could easily see that his son was still troubled. He knew that more than Estel would require healing over this incident and he made a mental note to continue assuring the twins that he laid not blame on them for the accident. In truth he had known the moment he saw his youngest that they would both be filled with guilt over the incident, whether it was their fault or not. It was just how they were with their little brother.

As Elrohir turned back to his herbs, Elrond sighed and returned to making the wintergreen poultice. As he worked with practiced movements, he let his mind drift back to the day when Estel had first entered their lives.

Elrond had been in his study preparing a parchment to be delivered to King Thranduil in Mirkwood when he heard a commotion coming from the front hallway. Sadly it was a familiar, if not completely welcome, sound. With an inward groan he carefully laid down the quill with which he had been writing and leaned back in his chair. Tiredly he rubbed the bridge of his nose as he wondered what trouble his twins had found this time. His hand moved from massaging the bridge of his nose to the taut muscles on the back of his neck as he sought relief from the sudden tension the return of his sons brought.

Oh, he loved his children more than anything else in Arda, but the pain and utter helplessness of seeing his sons being slowly torn apart by their grief and vengeance was becoming almost unbearable. More than anything, he wished that he could help them to understand that their mother’s need to sail to the gray haven was not a rejection of them or their family. Of course they understood that on an intellectual level, but inside their hearts had broken the day that they had rescued Celebrían from the hands of the Orcs and brought her battered and broken body home to Imladris, and it appeared to the elf lord that each new sunrise brought him closer to losing his sons as well. The bright, mischievous young elves who loved to play pranks had been replaced with two battle hardened Elven warriors who had made it their life’s mission to seek out and destroy every Orc in Middle Earth.

Elrond would have embraced that mission as well if it would have brought them peace, but he knew it would not. As an elf many centuries old, he understood that the path they had chosen would only lead his son into more darkness, but, it would seem, he was powerless to make them see that fact. The violence that began so many years ago was still as active today and threatened to destroy his entire family, for his beloved daughter Arwen had chosen to live in Lothlórien with her grandparents rather than remain here where her mother’s memory only caused her regret.

Standing up tiredly and pushing back his desk, Elrond walked from his study to see what he could salvage from this latest trek of his sons. He only hoped their injuries would not be too terribly serious this time.

Entering the hallway he was pleasantly surprised to see that both of his sons appeared healthy and uninjured, though they were both covered in orc blood. However, Elrond could also see red blood mixed in with the black, foul blood of the Yrch.

“Ada,” Elrohir greeted him. “We have news. The ranger’s camp was attacked yesterday. There were many deaths, including, I’m sorry to tell you, that of Arathorn.”

Elrond closed his eyes and absorbed the dreadful news. He shook his head sadly as he looked back to son. “These are evil tidings, indeed; the line of kings is severed then.”

“Not quite,” declared Elladan, as he walked over to reveal a tiny bundle to his father.

“This is Arathorn’s son, Aragorn. His mother is ill and has been taken to the healing wing.”

Elrond looked at the little boy trembling in his son’s arms. Large, soulful eyes looked out from the blanket in which he’d been wrapped and Elrond could see that his dark hair was a mass of unruly curls. He placed his hand on the baby soft hair and smiled sadly at the two year old. “You are all that is left of the line of kings, little one; that is a huge mantle for one so small.”

Elladan continued to soothe the child in his arms. “He saw his father fall, Ada, and has not spoken a word since. Will you see what you can do with him? Elrohir and I do not know what to do with a child such as this.”

“Of course, ion nín,” Elrond affirmed, as he took the shivering child into his arms. “He is in shock,” the elf lord remarked almost to himself, for his mind was already at work on the best course of action. “Has he any injuries?”

“No,” answered Elladan. “He was kept safe during the attack.”

“Good,” nodded Elrond. “Now, let’s see what we can do for you, little one. Elrohir, will you bring me another blanket, please? Elladan, ask Erestor to prepare some warm milk with cinnamon in it. That should help him to relax.”

“Yes, Ada,” the twins echoed as they left in different directions.

“And sons,” the elf lord added, stopping them both in their tracks, “I suggest you clean up once you have completed your tasks, for your appearance would frighten even one many years older than this child.”

The twins ruefully looked down at their bloodied cloths and nodded their assent.

“Ada,” Elrohir spoke, bringing Elrond back from his mental wanderings. “I have the tea ready.”

“And the poultice is complete as well,” came the reply. “Let us see how your brothers are faring.”

Translations

Celos:  Flowing snow

Celon: Stream flowing from the heights

Avo Osto:  Do not worry

Pận natha mae -  All will be well

Elladan’s Trials   For Estel

Chapter Four

Family of the Heart

The family--that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.--Dodie Smith

Elrond and Elrohir returned to the elf lord’s room to find Elladan wrapped around a sleeping Estel. 

“How long has he been asleep?” inquired Elrond, as he sat down on the side of the bed beside his oldest child.

“Only a few minutes,” came the reply, as Elladan sat up beside his father. “He was cold and dropped right off once I got him warmed up.”

“We need to awaken him so that he can drink this tea; it will help his fever.  I will apply the poultice to his lip first, though, so that its pain relieving qualities may facilitate his ability to sip.  I know that his lip is painful when he tries to eat or drink.”

Elladan leaned over and pulled Estel onto his lap.  “Wake up, sleepy head; Ada has some of his wonderful tea for you to drink.” 

Estel sat on Elladan’s lap facing Lord Elrond.  Even half roused from his sleep Estel reacted to the mention of his Ada’s dreadful tea. “No, Dan, I don’t want it.”

Lord Elrond inwardly groaned.  None of his sons liked the herbal remedies that they were sometimes required to drink, Estel least of all.  “Come penneth, let me apply the poultice to your lip.”

Estel shook his head and turned his face into Elladan’s tunic.

“It will make it easier for you to drink,” coaxed the elf lord.

“Don’t wanna drink,” came the stubborn reply.  Estel’s eyebrows were drawn together in the most fearful frown he could form.  It was what the twins called his obstinate look.

Elrohir had been listening to the exchange with a smile on his face. It always went this way.  “Avo osto, Estel, I fixed the tea, not Ada.  There is honey in it as well as the healing herbs.”

Elrond hid his smile.  The three had learned long ago how to persuade the child to drink his medicine.  Estel always balked at the idea of drinking the tea and Elrohir or Elladan always supplied the right amount of coxing, along with a bit of honey, to see the job done.  He leaned over towards his son to gently apply the poultice to Estel’s upper lip.  It did not appear to have swelled any more, but the redness was, if anything, more pronounced.  He was beginning to fear that the cut would require more treatment than just a poultice.  “There now… Let’s just allow that to act while the tea cools.” 

Elrond pulled up the soft yellow blanket and wrapped it around Estel while they waited the few moments it would take for the poultice to begin working.  He did not want his son to become chilled while he sat up on Elladan’s lap.  He took the child’s feet into his hands and began to massage them gently as they waited.  The practiced movements brought a small sigh from Estel.  Elrond often employed the soothing massage to Estel’s feet to help relax the child when he was fretful.   Presently he took the cup from Elrohir and helped his youngest to drink the treated tea.  “Slowly now, Estel, but you must drink all if it is to do the job.  Can you do that for me, ion nín?”

Estel stopped drinking long enough to give his father a small nod.  The poultice had made it easier for him to drink, and even if the tea didn’t taste exactly good, it felt wonderful going down his parched throat.

“That’s good, Estel,” praised the twins. 

“Ada,” declared the child as he handed the empty cup back to his father, “I got to ride Celos!”

“So I heard,” chuckled the elf lord. 

“Dan says when I am a big boy I may ride him all by myself,” bragged the sleepy boy, a small yawn finishing off the declaration.

“A very big boy, Estel,” qualified Elladan.

“That is good,” announced Elrond, “but first I think you are in need of a nap.”

“But I’m not sleepy,” entreated the child, as another, bigger yawn negated the statement.

“Would you be more comfortable in your own room, gwador?” questioned Elrohir. 

“No!” wailed the child, clinging to Elladan. “Dan, don’t make me,” he begged.

The twins shared a look of concern with their father as Lord Elrond took the boy into his arms to soothe and reassure him.  “You may stay here in my bed, Estel.  I’ll prop up the pillows cover you with your sunshine blankey.”   To any one other being in Middle Earth the prospect of hearing the esteemed Lord Elrond, the most powerful Elf in all Arda, utter the phrase “sunshine blankey” would have seemed preposterous.  Only a father could use that phrase with complete sincerity and never bat an eye.  “Would that be acceptable?”

The smile that greeted that statement was all the confirmation that he needed. “Will you stay with me, Ada?’

“I will be right here beside you, ion nín,” promised Elrond as he gently laid the boy back onto the fluffed up pillows.  Within minutes Estel was sound asleep, looking quite small and vulnerable in the huge bed. 

“Ada, why do you think he was so disturbed by the prospect of going to his own room,” questioned Elrohir softly so as not to awaken the Estel.  Because of their Elven hearing the three could easily hear each other.

“I do not know, Ion nín,” mused Elrond.  “You said that he sounded frightened before he fell.  Perhaps the nightmare he experienced is still upsetting him.”

“Whatever it is, his nightmares are getting worse instead of better,” worried Elladan.  “What are we going to do?”

Elrond looked down at his sleeping youngest and sighed.  “We will have to give that some thought while Estel is healing.  For now, one of us will stay with him at all times.  If he has another nightmare we will be able to comfort him immediately.”

“We’ll stay,” volunteered the twins in tandem.

“Why does that not surprise me,” intoned Elrond as he tucked the blanket around Estel’s shoulders.  “Very well, I will be in my study.  But first, I believe I will have a look in Estel’s room to see if there is anything that I can notice which might be bothering him.”

The twins were bickering softly over who was the best at archery as he left the room, bringing a smile to Elrond’s face.  It was truly music to his ears.

OoOoOoOo

“Elladan, Elrohir, go!” commanded Elrond.  “I will watch over Estel.  There is no need for the two of you to stay cooped up in this room as well.  Please, go outside and get some fresh air.” 

It had been two days and the twins had not left this room for more than a few moments, and never at the same time. 

“But Ada,” cried Elrohir looking at Estel, “What if he gets worse?”

“What if he needs us,” chimed in Elladan.

“You have my word; I shall call you if there is any change,” promised Elrond.  “I am quite capable of taking care of him.  Besides, it will do you both good, and perhaps Erestor will not do as he promised and throw you into the Bruinen.”

“Throw us into the Bruinen?” sputtered Elladan.

“Why would he do that?” interjected Elrohir, looking from his brother to his father.

“Elrohir Peredhil,” scoffed the elf lord, “do not take that innocent tone with me.  I know exactly what the two of you have been up to; and you know as well as I,” he continued before either twin could open their mouths, “that Erestor tolerates no interference with his running of the household.  You have been bored here these last two days and have been attempting to alleviate that boredom at Erestor’s expense.”

As if on cue, Erestor swept into the room sending a mock glare at the twins as though they were Elflings, which to an elf of his years, they were.  Tall and stately, as all elves are, Erestor emanated a particular dignity unique to himself.  He had made it his life’s mission, or so it seemed to the twins, to see that the last homely house ran with the precision of a well-oiled machine.  “Come, come, out with you,” he chided, as he motioned the two out with small movements of his hands.  “All of you,” announced, looking pointedly at Lord Elrond.

“I?” blustered Elrond before gathering his wits and pulling himself up to display his full authority.  “I am not leaving Estel.”

“Now, my lord, do not try that on me,” replied Erestor, sounding much like Elrond had only moments before. “You three are not the only ones here who love the little one.  Why, one would think that you believe you are the only elves here that can properly care for him.  Out with you; a few minutes away from here will benefit you as well.   Besides, this room is beginning to take on the pall of a sick room and I intend to remedy that situation right now.”

The object of all their discussion was presently sitting up in the bed watching the scene with great amusement.  As badly as he felt, he could still enjoy a commotion such as this.  The twins loved to butt heads with Erestor, and Erestor rather seemed to relish the mock confrontations as well, much to the delight of the four-year-old.

“Erestor,” Elrond replied with all the dignity and authority he could muster, “I am not leaving.”

For a few moments the two elf lords stood practically toe to toe.

“Very well,” the seneschal conceded, knowing full well when he was out-ranked, “but I shall be airing out this room.”  Turning to the twins he gestured them out.  “You two I can manage.”

Reluctantly, with a last longing look at their brother, the twins allowed themselves to be shooed from their father’s room.

“We’ll bring you a snake to see, Estel,” promised Elladan as the two moved down the hall.

“You will not!” came the indignant reply of the seneschal in response.

The three could be heard arguing good-naturedly as they moved down the hallway.

Elrond breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden quiet and sank down into the chair where he had been holding vigil for the past twenty four hours.  Estel’s fever had so far shown itself to be quite persistent.  He would give the child herbal teas which would bring down the fever for an hour or two but then, inevitably, it would begin to creep back up.

Now that the excitement had died down, Estel moaned softly and looked at his adopted father.  The elf lord could see that the lip was an angry red underneath the well formed stitches.  He had been hoping that the fever would respond to his treatment and what he now knew would have to be done would not be necessary. 

There was an infection in the lip.  Some minute particle of dirt or foreign object must have remained inside the cut when Elladan sewed it up.  It had since contaminated the child’s system and its foul offage was showing itself by a pale yellow tinge imbedded in the swollen, tender skin around the cut.  Elrond knew that the site would need to be irrigated and drained if the child was to heal.  It was one reason he had wanted the twins out of the room.  Both were trained in the healing arts, but working on warriors and working on a four year old were quite different things.  It had been emotionally draining enough for them to have to sew the lip in the first place.  He was not about to allow any further trauma to come to any of his sons, if he could help it.

The quickest method of treatment would simply be to lance the site with a sharp knife, but Elrond was loath to subject his youngest to that method. 

Estel was squirming slightly on the bed, as though he could not get comfortable.

“Would you like to sit over here with me, for a while, Estel?” questioned the elf lord.

“Yes, Ada, please,” begged the child.

Elrond rose from the chair and picked up Estel.  Grabbing the blanket he wrapped his son warmly and sat back down with the child in his lap.  Estel sighed contentedly and snuggled in his father’s embrace. 

Outside the afternoon shadows painted the pair sitting in an ancient tree just off the balcony to Lord Elrond’s room.  It was as close as they could get to their baby brother and still obey their father.

“Can you see anything?” questioned Elrohir.

“No, only the back of Ada’s head, though I think he is holding Estel in his lap.”

Both settled on the limb to keep watch…just in case…or so they told themselves.  For about an hour they sat staring at the window, occasionally chatting about nothing and everything.  It was nice to be outside, they had to admit, and the warmth of the sun lulled them to a deep state of relaxation.

“Brother,” mused Elrohir, “why is it that we always seem to find trouble?”

“We don’t find trouble,” explained Elladan, “it finds us.”

“I don’t think so…  I think we find it.”  Elrohir’s legs dangled off the limb, swinging back and forth lazily.

“We do not…”

“Yes, we do..”

“Do not!” exclaimed Elladan, raising his voice slightly for emphasis.

“Yes, you do!” came the deep voice just behind them, startling both the young elves and causing them to nearly jump out of their skins.

“Glorfindel!” exclaimed Elladan, grabbing the limb to regain his balance.  His heart was beating at three times the normal rate, and he had to take several deep breaths before he could speak.   “How did you get up here without us hearing you?”

The elf lord chuckled softly, not to mention with great satisfaction, as he settled onto the limb beside the twins.  “Wargs could have climbed up this tree and you would not have heard them the way the two of you were bickering.  I have warned you about that flaw since you were Elflings, have I not?”

Glorfindel, the Balrog Slayer, trained all the warriors at Rivendell and was also charged with the defense of the valley.  He had trained the twins and often sparred with them both at the same time, just to keep his skills sharp.  Both twins adored the golden haired warrior, and had for as long as they could remember. 

“Why are you out here?” asked Elrohir.  “Did Erestor banish you from the house as well?”

“Erestor,” snorted the fair being, “said that he was tired of seeing me loiter in the hallway outside your Ada’s room.   Loiter!”

The twins couldn’t help but laugh at the elf lord’s indignation.  Only Erestor could rile Lord Glorfindel like this.  No other being, with the possible exception of their father, would dare.

The three Eldar sat idly, if not somewhat dejectedly, on the limb just waiting until they could re-enter the last homely house and resume their vigil over Estel.

Inside, the master of Imladris sat holding his youngest while Erestor moved around the room cleaning, straightening, and generally making the room fresher.  The drapes had been pulled back to allow the air to carry the delicate scents of the various garden blossoms into the room, but Lord Elrond was aware of none of it.  The healer in him recognized what the father was loath to admit; the injury to his son was going to require more drastic measures…and soon.

Elladan’s Trials,  For Estel

Chapter Five

Friendship, Loyalty, Love

The best things in life are never rationed. Friendship, loyalty, love, do not require coupons.--G. T. Hewitt

Lord Elrond Peredhil resisted the urge to sigh again.  “Erestor, can you see them?”

The elf lord continued his straightening and worked his way over to the terrace entrance. “Yes, my lord,” he answered, “they are still perched out on that tree like three magpies.”

Elrond smiled to himself at the comparison.  “Then now would be a good time to proceed.  Pull the draperies, please.  I do not want them involved in this procedure.”

Erestor gave a cursory nod to the three beings suspended outside just off the balcony and with a small smile on his face, pulled the draperies closed, casting the room in shadow. 

From outside three heads immediately snapped up, frowns reflected on each face. 

“What is he doing?” questioned Elrohir.

“I can’t believe it,” echoed Elladan.

“I am gong to strangle that haughty elf,” growled Glorfindel.  “Is it not bad enough that he cast me out of the house like, like, refuse?” the warrior sputtered in indignation.   It’s not that he really expected any answer from the twins, so much as it was just the pure satisfaction he derived from speaking the words aloud.

The twins knew enough to let their teacher and friend vent his emotions.  It was an ongoing battle of wits between the dark haired seneschal and the golden warrior of Imladris.  Neither would admit it, but they were the best of friends and thrived on their verbal jousts. 

“What do we do now?” Elrohir questioned forlornly.  “Ada said he did not want to see us back inside until dinnertime, and that is still an hour away.

“Why don’t we find that snake we promised Estel?” replied Elladan, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the task. 

“I thought Erestor forbade you to bring a snake in the house?” queried Glorfindel.

Two identical heads turned his way, but a pair of raised eyebrows was all the answer the twins gave.

A wicked smile crossed Glorfindel’s face. “I seem to remember that Erestor is deathly afraid of snakes.  I do believe that I will help you find one.”

O-o-O-o-O

Inside, in Lord Elrond’s room, Erestor had built up the fire, boiled water for tea, brought in linen strips of material and lit several spirit lamps to provide additional light. The elf lord had changed from the robes he had worn as he straightened and cleaned the room as well.  The deep sleeves of the dove gray robe he now wore were rolled back to facilitate his assistance with the procedure on the child.

Elrond gently laid Estel down on the bed and made sure he was covered warmly by his sunshine blankey.  Even with the warmth it provided, the child shivered almost uncontrollably.   Elrond sprinkled some yarrow into the weak herbal tea.  Erestor had thoughtfully provided a honey pot from which Elrond measured out a generous amount to be added to Estel’s drink.  The elf lord worked quickly but exactingly to ensure that the amount was only enough to make the child drowsy.  It would be ideal for all concerned if he could put the child to sleep, but with his fever so high Lord Elrond feared to anesthetize him completely.

Easing his arm behind Estel’s back and helping him to sit up, the elf lord spoke softly to him.  “Ion nín, can you drink this for Ada?”

Estel’s glanced up at this father with dulled, glazed eyes. 

The elf lord was not even sure that Estel recognized him at this point.  Carefully holding the cup to his son’s mouth, Elrond helped and encouraged the child to drink the precious liquid.  Once the cup was completely empty, Elrond eased the boy back down.  The worried Noldor sat quietly waiting by his son’s bed as the medicated tea relaxed the child and hopefully lowered the fever raging through the tot once more.  

“My mouth hurts, Ada,” Estel murmured softly from where he lay.

“I know, Pen-nîn tithen; the infection is causing pressure that makes the injury throb.  Once the pressure is relieved it will be much less painful.”

Strong fingers eased through the baby soft hair, further relaxing the boy.  He turned to ask Erestor for the clove oil only to find the seneschal already standing by his side with the oil.  Erestor had even warmed the oil so that it would cause less disparity against the child’s overheated skin.  Elrond turned grateful but concern-masked eyes to his long time friend and nodded his thanks. “Hannon lle.”

“Avo bedo o hannad, hîr nín, but no thanks are necessary,” assured Erestor. “I have been your friend since we fought together at Gil-galad’s side, and that will never change.  Your sons are as my sons; my service will always belong to the Lord of Imladris and to his house. Hebo estel, hîr nín, think of your son’s name. ”

From the bed, sleepy silver eyes turned to Elrond.  The weakness in his voice cut straight to the hearts of the two immortals.  “Is it going to hurt, Ada?”

“Perhaps a small bit, Estel, but it should not hurt much.”  Elrond ever so gently dabbed the clove oil onto the child’s cut lip.  “Very good, Estel,” he soothed. “Now I am going to place some warm cloths onto your lip.  They will not burn you, my son,” he hastened to assure. 

A small hand slipped out from beneath the covers to rest on the elf lord’s knee, as though the small contact was all the child needed to be assured of his father’s comfort. 

The touch was almost the esteemed elf’s undoing.  Forcing his feelings down, he lovingly smoothed back curls from the feverish brow before continuing his gentle ministrations.

”Restor?” asked the boy as he watched the two work in unison and with an economy of movement achieved only by the elves.  “Will you stay with me too?”

“I would be most happy to stay with you, penneth.  Perhaps you will let me tell you a story while your Ada goes to take some dinner tonight.”

Elrond reached over the bowl of warm, treated water, which Erestor was now holding for him.  He dipped a linen strip into it and thoroughly wrung out the cloth before placing it on Estel’s lip.  “Is that too warm, Estel?” questioned the immortal.

Estel gave a small shake of his head. 

“That is good.  Now we will just let that stay on your lip until it begins to cool slightly. 

While the cloth cooled on Estel, Erestor kept the other water warmed by placing the bowl over a specially made spirit lamp.  The temperature of the water was maintained by a small valve which enabled the seneschal to regulate the size of the flame.  

After Elrond had repeated the procedure several times until he determined that the lip was sufficiently soft.  He picked up a small dagger which was used in the healing wing and held it over the flame of a lamp.   Careful to show Estel what he was doing, he moved back beside the bed.  “Estel, I am going to put a tiny prick beside the stitches which Elladan put into your lip.  The clove oil and the treated heat has deadened and softened your injury.

Fearful eyes met his and the elf lord paused to comfort his son as two fat tears rolled down the side of the child’s face.  “You know that I will be as gentle as I can, do you not?” the lord asked.  His finger tenderly wiped the tears that clung to Estel’s fever brightened cheeks as he conveyed all the love that he could into the look he gave his son.

Taking a shuddering breath, the little boy tried to stop the quiver that overtook his bottom lip.  Mustering all the courage his little heart possessed, Estel stopped the tears and nodded to his father.  “It is all right, Ada; I am a big boy.   Dan and Ro wouldn’t cry, would they?”

Elrond smiled down at the little one who had so stolen his heart.  “Your brothers are going to be very proud of you, Estel, and very impressed.  I feel certain that this shall earn you another ride on Celos.”

“Would you like to hold my hand, Estel?” asked Erestor.  “Lord Glorfindel once held my hand when he was wounded and your Ada had to take an arrow from his side.”

“He did?” the boy asked in wonder.  “Truly?”

“Yes, truly, penneth,” replied the advisor.  “And he is a very brave elf, is he not?”

“Yes,” nodded the boy, “almost as brave as Ada.”  Reaching out his little hand he allowed the older elf to enfold his tiny fist.  Estel’s chubby fingers wrapped around Erestor’s thumb as the immortal patted his hand.  The child had been unable to suck his own thumb since the injury to his upper lip, but still found some comfort in holding onto one.

With a small nod to his advisor, Elrond picked up the dagger again and swiftly, but gently, made a small incision.  Immediately the foul bloody yellow offage began to stream from the cut as the pressure was released, and the elf lord used the damp linen strips to clear the drainage with small pats.

Estel flinched but did not turn his head.  The only other indication of the child’s discomfort was the quiver in his bottom lip and the slight pressure his hand made on his father’s knee.

“I will tell you something else about Lord Glorfindel if you will keep it secret,” Erestor told the child as a way of distraction.  His ploy worked, for two curious blue eyes quickly met his.  Erestor smiled at the child.  “Yes?  Then it will be our secret.”

The blue eyes of the child looked back at his Ada, who was continuing to clean the discharge form his lip, and then back to Erestor.

“Ah, I see,” nodded Erestor.  “Well, it is permissible to speak in front of Lord Elrond.  You see, your Ada knows this secret and has for many long years.  He will not tell.  The secret is that I truly do not dislike Lord Glorfindel; I only pretend to argue with him.  It keeps him humble, you see.  You won’t tell him, will you?”

Estel looked bemused for a moment.  Small eyebrows knotted together as he considered Erestor’s word.  Elrond noticed and stopped dabbing the wound, which was now beginning to run clear.  “Restor, I think Glorby already knows that secret,” Estel said seriously.

The seneschal glanced up at Lord Elrond and then back down to Estel. “Now that is a very wise thing to say, penneth.  Are you sure you’re just a little boy and not a 2000 year old elf?”

A large sigh and sleepy eyes were the only answer he received.

Elrond finished cleaning the last of the drainage from the tiny incision and bandaged the cut.  Setting aside the dirtied linen strips, he took Estel into his arms.  “There now, ion nín, that should feel better.”

Little arms went around the elf lord’s neck.  “It does, Ada, I don’t feel the beat in it like I did.”

Wrapping the blanked securely around his son, Elrond moved over to the chair as Erestor removed the supplies.  He settled back into the seat as he cradled his son.  “Sleep now, my Estel,” he crooned softly, humming a tune that Celebrían has used to sing the twins to sleep when they were Elflings.  As Estel’s eyes slowly closed, Elrond found himself praying to each and every Vala he could think of that this would do stop the infection and allow his remedies to lower his son’s fever.

O-o-O-o-O

Outside, the sun had finally sunk beneath the hills which protected this hidden valley.  By the silvery light of the newly risen moon the three elves were scouring the garden in search of the illusive snake with which to amuse Estel and, in Glorfindel’s case, irritate Erestor.  Of course the three elves would not let the child handle the snake.  Non- poisonous or not, the creature could carry germs, and that was the last thing that Estel needed in his present condition.  Besides, none of the three wished to taste the ire of Lord Elrond should he actually see them brining a live snake into his bedroom.  They would have to be careful about how they went about this particular prank.

So intent were the three upon their quest that they failed to notice the regal elf standing in the entryway to the garden.  Erestor was quite amused at the sight of the famed balrog slayer down on his hands and knees muttering to himself and up to his waist in a particularly bushy plant. 

“Now where did that blasted thing go? I know I saw it slither in here!”  If anything, Glorfindel moved further into the bush, leaving only his backside sticking out at an absurd and extremely undignified angle.

Identical heads popped up from behind a nearby holly plant.  “Have you found one?” questioned Elrohir.

“Oops,” stammered Elladan as he caught sight of Erestor.

The elegant elf held a graceful finger to his lips and motioned the twins to keep quiet.  Laughter sparkled in his eyes as he glanced back at the oblivious Glorfindel.

“Come on, little snakey, I won’t hurt you,” lured the warrior, wiggling the bush.

Erestor had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. Oh, this was a sight he was going to cherish for millennia.  “I must say, Lord Glorfindel, thankfully this is a side of you I am not used to seeing.”

All movement in the bush froze at the pronouncement.  For his part, Glorfindel hoped that this was a bad dream and that he did not actually hear what he just thought he heard, for that would be unthinkable!  Easing out of the prickly plant, the golden warrior glanced back over his shoulder and winced at the sight that met his eyes.  “Oh Nárendur!” he swore to himself in the high language; “I shall never live this down!”    With as much dignity as he could muster, the elf lord stood to his feet and dusted off his knees and hands.  Small sprigs of greenery clung to his silken hair.  Clearing his throat slightly, he nodded to the seneschal.  “Erestor, how is Estel?”  

Delight danced through Erestor’s mind as he enjoyed the immortal’s unease.  “Attempting to change the subject, are we?”

“Not at all!” thundered the embarrassed warrior.  “I am simply concerned for the welfare of my Lord’s youngest.”  He pulled himself up straighter and crossed his arms impatiently.  “Well, are you going to tell us or must I drag it out of you.”

Fighting down his smile Erestor glanced from Glorfindel to the twins, who had joined them.  “First, wash up and change your clothes, and then come to the Hall of Fire. Lord Elrond will address you there.”

Alarm shot through Elladan and he roughly grabbed the seneschal by the arm.  “Has something happened to Estel?  Tell us, please Erestor!  I cannot simply wash up and wait if my brother is worse.”

Erestor patted the hand which held his arm.  “Peace, Elrondion, all is well.  I believe that Estel will be fine now, and your father will explain everything to you.  I am going back to sit with the child now while my Lord takes some nourishment.”  He gave the twins a searching look.  “Go, eat with your father.  He needs your comfort now, for it has been a difficult day for him.  I will stay with Estel, and after dinner you may all come up to see the boy.”

O-o-O-o-O

The Lord of Imladris sat wearily at a table on one side of the Hall of Fire.  As always, cheerful flames danced and crackled in the huge fireplace which dominated one wall of the hall.  The light from the blaze was augmented by flickering torches arranged around the walls, casting the deep shadows across the ceiling.  Scattered in small groups, other elves from Rivendell lounged, ate, or talked softly.  In the corner two musicians strummed lyres and sang an enchanting melody. Their beautiful voices brought peace to the hearts of all who listened as a warm breeze caressed the gathered elves with the delicate scents from the flowers outside.  On most nights this hall buzzed with activity, revelry, and much happiness, but all the inhabitants of Imladris knew of the Estel’s injury and concern for the much beloved child as well as for his Ada had muted the usual festivities.

The calm of the moment was shattered as three freshly scrubbed elves ran through the door and skidded to a stop in front of Lord Elrond.  Lord Glorfindel, at least, attempted to maintain some dignity, but the twins cared not how they were perceived.  Despite Erestor’s reassurance, concern was plainly reflected in the fair being’s faces.  Lord Elrond looked up to his sons with love in his eyes. “Come; sit with me, my sons.  Glorfindel, join us as well, please.”  He motioned to seats beside him and across the table.

Choking back their impatience, Elladan and Elrohir joined their father at the table.  Glorfindel sat across from the three.  “Father, please,” begged Elladan, “tell us what has happened.”

“Estel is resting.  I believe the infection is now staunched and his fevers shall begin to subside.”

“But…” encouraged Elladan when his father paused, for he could see that there was more in his Ada’s eyes.  Elrohir looked back and forth between his father and his brother.

“But,” continued Lord Elrond, “I was required to perform a small procedure.”

“Procedure!” exclaimed both twins at once.  Elladan jumped to his feet and would have gone immediately to Estel’s side had his father’s hand not stopped him.

“Havo Dad, Elladan,” he said kindly, but firmly.

“But Ada, this is my fault,” confessed the guilt ridden twin.

“No, Elladan, we have been over this before.  It is not your fault, nor yours, Elrohir.”  The elf lord looked at his sons, feeling not at all like the wise elf that all in Arda believed him to be.

Before he could continue, a scream echoed from upstairs.

“Estel!”

Translations:

Estel: Hope

Ada: Daddy

Ion nin: My Son

Hebo estel, hîr nín; Have hope, my Lord

Pen-nîn tithen; My Little One

Hannon le: Thank you

Avo bedo o hannad, hîr nín: You are most welcome, my Lord

Nárendur: Qyenya Servant of Fire

Havo Dad: Sit Down

Elrondion – Son of Elrond

Elladan’s Trails  For Estel

Chapter Six

He Who Learns Must Suffer

He who learns must suffer, and even in our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart.  And in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom…by the awful grace of God. ~ Unknown

For a millisecond all sound and activity ceased in the Hall of Fire as the shocked Elves registered the sound of distress emanating from upstairs.  Fear gripped Elrond’s heart at the pain and fear he heard in his son’s voice and his eyes were pulled to the ceiling, as though he could see right through the rock to the floor above.  Lord Elrond sprang from his seat and raced from the room, followed closely by the twins.  Glorfindel was only a fraction of a second behind them, having leaped over the table rather than take the time to go around it as the dazed faces of the other Elves watched their Lords race from the room.  It was as though time had frozen them in its icy tendrils, beautiful statues with shock marring their fair faces.

Elrond took the stairs two at a time as he sprinted towards his bedroom.  He had no idea what to expect, but his heart told him this was no mere nightmare gripping his youngest.  As he sped down the hallway he could see the light spilling from the opened doorway and for a moment the hope that this was all a mistake raised itself in his chest only to be crushed as he reached the entry way of his bedroom.  Entering the room he beheld a sight that he had never expected to see and could barely comprehend.

Lying face down on the floor in a growing pool of blood was his seneschal; his dark hair was spread out around his head like an ebony halo. Most shocking of all was the sight of the dagger sticking out from Erestor’s back. Tearing his eyes from the gruesome sight he looked to the empty bed and then to the balcony, where the evening breeze was blowing the curtains with a gentleness that mocked the violent setting inside.   His healer’s instincts kicked in as Elrond knelt beside his friend and was relieved to find a pulse beating underneath his gently probing fingers.  “Glorfindel,” he spoke while assessing the wound on Erestor’s back, “call out the guard. Estel has been taken and cannot be far.

“I will lead them myself, my Lord,” warrior affirmed.  He paused at the door and glanced back with grief filled eyes.  “My Lord?”

“I do not know yet, Glorfindel.  I will care for our friend; you find my son.”

With a resolved nod, the golden haired warrior left the room.    

That action seemed to awaken the twins, who had literally been frozen in shock since entering the room.  How could such violence have invaded their home…their Ada’s bedroom, the place that had always signified the very heart of Imladris, the sanctuary of the sanctuary?   Pushing the overturned chair out of the way, Elrohir knelt beside his father to aid him with Erestor, while Elladan walked slowing over to the bed where Estel had been sleeping. 

Elrohir glanced up and frowned at the look on his twin’s face.  Elladan was standing beside the bed holding Estel’s sunshine blankey grasped to his chest, as though he cradled his little brother instead of the boy’s cherished blanket.  Elrohir watched as his brother’s hands slowly balled into fists, pulling at the very threads of the blanket.  Only his keen eyesight caught the tremors that now ran through those fists.  Elladan sensed his brother’s eyes on him and turned to meet his gaze, needing the reassurance of their bond.  What he saw was there was mirrored in his own eyes. Elrohir’s heart nearly stopped as he spied the drops of blood on the blanket and he started to rise from where he knelt to go to his brother.

“Elrohir!” Elrond’s voice interrupted the motion and pulled his attention back to Lord Erestor.  The healer was gently examining the fallen Elf.   “I need your help.” 

Forcing his thoughts back to the sight before him, Elrohir gently placed his hands on each side of the dagger as his father gently eased it from Erestor’s back.

“Ada, the dagger…it’s, it’s…”  Elrohir could not bring himself to say the words.

“I know, Elrohir, it is Elven.”

The twins shared a dumbfounded glance before Elladan dropped the blanket and headed for the door.  “I’m going to look for Estel, and the Valar help the one who has done this when I find him.”

Elrohir was torn between wanting to accompany his brother in the search and staying to help his father with Lord Erestor, for his training as a healer confirmed how seriously the Elf was wounded.  His father’s strained voice pulled back his attention once more and made up his mind.

“Elrohir, I need you.”   Elrohir could hear in his Ada’s voice all the longing to go after Estel that welled up within his own heart, and also the anguish of knowing that the life of the Elf who had been his friend for millennia hung in the balance requiring the all the skill that the Elf Lord possessed.

“I am here, Ada, we will save him together.”  Elrohir assured as he held pressure on the gash.  He wished that he could feel as confident as he sounded.  Elrond used the dagger to cut the Elf’s robes enough so that he had better access to the gaping wound. 

“I see no bubbling which would indicate air escaping, so I think that the lung has not been penetrated.”

Elrohir breathed a small sigh of relief at that news.  “Look, Ada, the blood is not bright red. That’s good, right?”

“Yes,” agreed Elrond as he replaced Elrohir’s hands to hold the pressure on the wound himself.  “That is an indication that the main artery near Erestor’s heart was not hit as well.   We must move him to the bed.  Then, Elrohir, hurry to the apothecary and bring back the supplies we will need to cleanse the wound and close it.  I will continue to hold pressure on the wound until you return.  Now, on three…one, two, three….”

Father and son worked together as a team to lift the wounded Elf onto Elrond’s bed.  As Elrohir hurried from the room to retrieve the supplies they would need to complete the treatment, Elrond applied pressure to the wound with one hand while pulling the pillows from the bed with the other.  Since Erestor was laying face down, he wanted the surface as flat as possible to keep the Elf’s airway open and free from pressure.  Once the surface was completely cleared, Elrond gently turned the seneschal’s head to the side at a more comfortable angle.

“Hold on, old friend,” he soothed.  Despair welled up inside of him and threatened to overcome his legendary composure.  How much more loss must he endure?  Giving himself a mental shake he stopped that train of thought before it could go any further.  He would concentrate on what he could control rather than on what he could not.  He allowed his eyes to sweep the room seeking any clues as to who might have done this terrible deed and taken his son.  ‘Valar help us,’ he thought to himself, ‘Estel is still ill…  Who could have done this?  Why?  The unthinkable conclusion that would not be dismissed was that this was no random act…no orc attack.  Only an Elf could have gained access to Rivendell…to the Last Homely House itself.  But who…why?” 

O-o-O-o-O

Estel was shaking from shock and fear as the shadowed being of his nightmares carried him though the darkness.  He had trouble breathing and his torn lip pained him terribly as the Elf kept his hand roughly covering Estel’s mouth.  The child could taste blood as the lip was cruelly smashed against his small teeth.  Estel could hear the Elf’s labored breath as he ran through the valley with the boy in his arms.  Normally he would feel safe and secure in the arms of an Elf, but not now.  There was no comfort to be felt from this being, only malice.   Estel whimpered as he thought about the horror of the scene in his Ada’s room. 

The child had awakened to see a shadowy form coming into the room from the balcony. It was so much like his recurring nightmare that he was too terrified at first to move or make a sound.  Erestor was sitting beside him in the overstuffed chair with his head resting on the cushioned back.  His eyes were closed and he was humming a sweet melody.  He seemed to be enjoying the heat from the fire crackling in the fire place and getting just a bit of rest after his hectic day.  To Estel it was as though everything moved in slow motion as he watched the “monster” raise a knife high into the air.  Light from the dancing flame reflected on the burnished surface painting a cheery image on this instrument of death.  Just as Erestor became aware of the intruder and started to rise from the chair, the knife descended with deadly speed and buried itself in the seneschal’s back.  His pain filled eyes met Estel’s as he struggled to get to the bed to protect his Lord’s child.  Estel saw him mouth the word, “run” and then fall to the floor.

In his sleep confused state, Estel flashed back to the day he had seen the man falling with the arrow in his eye.   Estel had not remembered that for a very long time, and indeed even now it was so vague that he had no comprehension of who the man was, but the horrendous image of the arrow in the man’s eye had seared itself into the psyche of the child.  Now the horror of that sight was repeating itself before him, only this time the evil had penetrated his home, the safety of his Ada’s room, and Restor was on the floor with a knife in back.  Estel had been horrified by the sight of the blood pooling around the knife and beginning to stream down the Elf’s back, and he whimpered softly drawing the attention of the monster, which he could now see was an Elf dressed all in black.   Estel’s panicked scream had been cut off as the Elf’s bloody hand wrapped around his mouth.