Little One
By BackStgArtist
Rating: G
Summary: Young Aragorn ("Estel") comes down with a cold one day and his foster brothers have no idea what is wrong with him. With a little help from Elrond, the brothers learn that all their "little one" needs is a bit of rest and care. A sweet, short vinegette.
Disclaimer: All characters are property of J.R.R. Tolkien, a genius and beloved author, creator of Middle Earth. I do not take any credit or make any profit whatsoever off any of his characters, creations, or from this piece of fanfiction. Thanks to him for writing such an amazing set of stories!
A/N: This story goes along w/ the AU that Aragorn's mother also perished in the orc attack that killed his father. That means that in this story he's being raised by Elrond and his two sons.
Estel slept restlessly in his bed, tossing and turning. The cool night air drifted through room by the open balcony and rustled the bed sheets ever so slightly. He coughed a few times in his sleep, then rolled over again. The little boy was in the Imladris, the elven realm known to some as Rivendell, and at age six, he'd lived their almost as long as he could remember, with the lord of the elves, Elrond, and his two sons, Elladan and Elrohir.
The crisp fall air again disturbed the sheets, this time sweeping a few locks of the boy's hair across his face. The chill touched his face and Estel shivered, curling up tighter in his sleep. When the morning sun came, his foster brother, Elladan, quietly entered his room and sat at his side.
"Come, little one. Breakfast is nearly ready and ada is awaiting you."
Estel rolled over and looked up at his brother.
"My head hurts, though," he whimpered, curling up against Elladan's leg. "Where's Elrohir?"
"Already at breakfast. Will I have to chase you out of bed and down the stairs?"
The little boy didn’t smile. Instead, he moved his head so it rested on Elladan's lap and sighed.
The elf reached down and patted the little boy's head.
"My, you're warm, Estel," he said. "I think you should warm me up a little."
He scooped up the child and held him in his arms tightly.
"You feel like the sun today, Estel," he said with a smile. "A warm, cheery sun. Let's go eat."
The elf, knowing naught of human illness, thought nothing of the little boy's sluggishness or unnatural heat. He carried the human down the stairs and sat him in his lap at the breakfast table.
"Estel is a little sleepy today," Elladan told his brother. I think we will have to take him outside for some archery to wake him up."
Elrohir grinned. "Sounds like a great idea, but you'll have to watch out Elladan. I think a little betting wager on my skill over yours seems appropriate."
The other elf scoffed. "I wouldn't bet anything on it. It'd be too unfair to you, seeing as I'm bound to win the wager."
Their father shook his head at the brothers from the other end of the table.
"You two should worry about helping Estel with his archery, not beating each other at it."
"Oh, we know," Elladan assured him, lifting Estel and setting him in the empty chair at his side. "He'll be great, won't you, Estel?"
The boy nodded, shifting his breakfast around on the plate with his utensils. He drank his juice and ate a couple of berries before pushing back his chair.
"
Lord Elrond nodded.
"Be sure to wear your older tunic," he reminded the boy. "Knowing your brothers, you are bound to get dirty. Now go change. I'm sure you're anxious to get started."
The little boy nodded and headed back towards his chambers. He pulled on his old tunic and soft pants, then put his shoes on. His head still ached and he noticed an odd, painful tickle deep in his chest, but he tried to ignore it and put on a smile. His brothers were teaching him more about shooting!
He met them down at the practice pitch, where they were setting up various targets and testing bows. Elladan handed him a bow and arrow, then stepped back to watch.
"Steady now, Estel," he coached. "Pull back nice and straight…no…bend your elbow a little…"
The boy bit his lip in concentration, trying to ignore the strange dry tickle in his chest, and then went to release the bow. As he did this, a cough rose up from his lungs and escaped, shaking his arm and sending the arrow flying past the target.
"That's okay," Elrohir assured him. "It was nice form to start with. Try again."
Estel went to restring an arrow on the bow, but began to cough again, short, hard hacks that shook his small frame. Elrohir handed him his canteen and told him to take a sip.
"Better?" he asked.
Estel nodded and went to take another shot. This one hit just below the second ring of the target. He restrung and aimed again. He closed one eye, trying to center the arrow on the target, but his eyes blurred over, his head pounded. He let the string go and the arrow sailed only a few feet before flopping into the dirt several yards in front of his aim.
"You didn't pull back hard enough, Estel. Next time make sure…"
But he broke off as the boy began to cough again, this time even worse, his chest heaving.
"What's wrong?" Elladan asked? "Are you thirsty?"
He went over and knelt next to the human. Estel let his body fall into the elf's strong arms as he coughed repeatedly.
"I don't feel good," he mumbled.
Elladan picked the boy up and moved over to a rock to sit down. Estel sat limply on his lap, his cheeks flushed and eyes glassy.
"What's wrong with him?" Elrohir asked, moving over behind his brother.
"I don't know," Elladan replied. "Something makes him cough. He is warm too, a fact that I thought little of this morning when I felt it. Perhaps he's eaten some poisoned plant?"
In his arms, the little boy took a wheezing breath and coughed some more.
"Where does it hurt, Estel?" Elrohir asked.
"Here," the human replied, pointing to his chest. "I need ada."
"Shh," Elladan reassured him. "We'll take you to him. He can make anything better."
Estel nodded, tucking his head into the nook of Elladan's shoulder.
The two brothers headed back towards the house of Elrond, Estel lying weakly in Elladan's arms.
The elven Lord, reading by the window, spotted them as they came along the path. When they reached near the house, he called out.
"What have you two done now? Has he fallen and hurt himself again?"
"No, ada," called Elladan. "I think he had been poisoned."
The elven Lord dropped the book he held and ran out of the house to meet them. He accepted his foster son into his arms and felt his forehead. Estel coughed harshly and a soft moan escaped his lips. Lord Elrond smiled a little at this and turned to his sons.
"You had me greatly worried," he told them. "He's not poisoned. He's just sick."
Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, sick?"
"It happens to humans, especially little ones," Elrond explained. "Come, we should get him to his bed and then I will explain."
The two brothers followed their father up the long staircase and into Estel's room. It was one of the nicer chambers in the home, save the ones occupied by the three elves. The floor was scattered with various toys; bows and arrows made of simple sticks and string, a wooden sword, and a set of carved horses. Elrond moved away a few with his foot as he made his way to the bed. He set Estel down, then retrieved a pair of sleeping garments from the nearby set of drawers.
"Lift your arms up," he told Estel gently in Elvish. "You need to put these on."
Estel did so willingly, Elrond helping him adjust the sleeves and pull up the bottoms. When he was settled, Elrond pulled the coverlets tightly over his little body and tucked them around him. He planted a soft kiss on the boy's forehead and whispered,
"Sleep now,"
The boy looked up miserably at the elf and asked,
"I can't. Where's El?"
Elrond smiled, bending down to retrieve a stuffed toy from under the bed. It was a little elf, dressed in his hunting greens, a stuffed quiver on his back and a green ribbon tying back his dark hair. Estel had received it as a gift on his arrival in Rivendall and promptly named it El; appropriately named, for at the time, he could barely pronounce "Elrond", "Elladan", and "Elrohir", nor could he choose which elf to name the toy after. He simply took the part he knew- "El."
"Here's El," Elrond told him. "Now will you sleep?"
"But I don't feel nice," he whispered.
Elrond sat on the bed and gathered the little boy close in his arms, so that the human lay bundled in blankets in his lap. He stroked the top of Estel's head with his long fingers, letting them run through the boy's thick brown hair, now slightly damp with a little fever. Quickly, Estel's eyes began to droop until they fell shut and his breathing evened out.
"Is he not sick anymore?" Elladan whispered.
Elrond smiled slightly as he eased the boy off his lap and back into bed.
"No," he replied softly. "He's still sick. Come outside and I'll explain now."
They went out into the room next door, a small study that the twins often used.
"Sick is hard for elves to understand. It's not unlike having been affected by a poison, or eating the wrong herb. But for men, it comes on sudden and does not easily leave. They must rest often and stay warm and dry. When they are very small or very old, it is often worse. In the odd case, sickness kills humans, but I'm sure Estel is fine. It's likely he'll wake up tonight feeling much better."
Elladan and Elrohir nodded seriously.
"Why don't you two head back down to the pitch and have your competition you so eagerly spoke of this morning at meal," suggested Elrond. "A little practice couldn't hurt either of you."
Elrohir gave a playful grin.
"Don't you mean Elladan could use a little practice? After all, he missed that stag on the last hunt and…"
The two brothers set off down to the targets, arguing and laughing along the way. They'd been practicing for nearly an hour when they heard the voices of a few of the Elven children nearby.
"Why are you wearing your night clothes?" taunted one.
"Yuck, he looks all funny!" cried another.
The twins dropped their bows and rushed towards the sound of the conversation. They found Estel, surrounded by kids, trying to escape.
"Let me go," he pleaded. "I need to find my ada."
There were tear marks on his cheeks, now flushed bright pink with fever. He coughed and clutched at his chest, doubling over. Elladan pushed the kids aside and gathered the boy in his arms.
"What's wrong, Estel?" he asked. "You're supposed to be resting."
"I need ada," he whispered. "I can't find him in the house. It really hurts."
As if to demonstrate, he coughed painfully, a thick congested sound crackling from his chest. Elladan removed his outer tunic and draped it around the boy. Then he lifted him up, cradling the small frame in his arms, and carried the human back up to the house, followed by his brother.
"Go find
He placed the little boy back into bed and fetched the washbasin from the dresser. Wetting the nearby towel, he smoothed the cool cloth over Estel's burning brow. He let it rest there for a moment and unbuttoned the top of the human's tunic carefully. He wiped his chest in attempt to cool the boy's body. The small child coughed dreadfully and reached up, taking Elladan's hand and guiding it so it rested on his forehead. The elf gently rubbed his hand through the boy's damp hair.
"Estel?"
Elrond rushed into the room and knelt near the bed.
"I'm so sorry you couldn't find me, little one. I was called away for a moment. What hurts?"
Estel went to answer but instead began to cough. Elrond frowned at the harsh barks and placed a hand on the boy's chest.
"Cough again," he instructed. "I know it hurts but I need to feel."
Estel went to take a deep breath, but it came more like a pained wheeze. His lungs squeezed tight and he dissolved into hacks.
"I thought so," Elrond said, removing his hand. "A very, very bad chest cold."
"A cold?" Elladan said. "But he's so hot. He's running a fever."
The elven lord smiled slightly.
"No, my son," he assured the other elf. "It's a term for a common human sickness. I need you to go down into the herbal stores and fetch me metholis."
"Mentholis?" Elrohir asked. "But father, that's a cooking herb.
"The mint flavored one," Elladan chimed in. "Although I think it's favored a bit too much, for it's overwhelming every time I've eaten…"
"Just go get it," Elrond stressed. "And bring the materials for mixing as well."
Elrohir nodded and retreated downstairs to find his father's requests. He returned quickly, the mentholis in hand along with a mortar and pestle.
Elrond took the mentholis and crushed it, added a little water to the mix. It's strong smell filled the room as it was mashed into a thick green goo.
"What help is that other than to make my nose open wider that the holes of a cave," Elladan said, sniffing in the air.
"Observe, Elladan," Elrond replied. "If it opens up your nose passages so much, it should do wonders to calm Estel's chest congestion then, don't you think?"
He turned to the feverish little boy and pulled open his top further, exposing much of his chest. He took a scoop of the thick green lotion and spread it across the boy's skin, all the way up to the base of his neck. The smell caused Estel to cough, his chest heaving under Elrond's hand. The congestion crackled and seemed to loosen a bit. The little boy sank back into the pillows, miserable and limp.
Elrond used a towel to wipe the excess lotion off his own hand, then leaned over and kissed the human on the forehead.
"You need to rest now," he said.
"But,
"No buts Estel," Elrond replied, pulling up the covers. "You need lots of rest."
"
"Of course, little one."
"Why don't the other kids get sick too? And why not you? Or Elladan and Elrohir?"
Elrond frowned.
"It's because we're elves, Estel. We talked about this."
"It's not fair," the little boy pouted. A few coughs interrupted his moping. When they finally died away, he continued,
"It's really not fair."
"There are a lot of things that are not fair in this world, Estel. There are horrible things you know nothing of yet. Imladris is just a small part of middle earth. But for now, you are safe here among the elves, even if you, yourself, are a man."
"Okay," Estel replied, yawning. He sniffed in the thick cream and made a face.
"It smells funny."
Elrond smoothed the boy's hair back with a gentle,
"I know, Estel. You'll feel better if you breathe it and let it work. Now, sleep. I know it hurts."
"You don't know," Estel mumbled, drifting off. "You're an elf.""
Elrond's heart nearly broke and he bent over, nestling his nose in the sleeping boy's hair.
"You have no idea Estel. There is so much valor in that little heart of yours."
Elladan and Elrohir turned from the room to leave their father alone with the boy.
"
"It's something special. It's Estel, hope for the future," Elrond whispered. "You will learn, little one."
"Why
do you always call me little,
"Oh, Estel," Elrond said, smiling. "You're always the little one to me, no matter how big you get."
"Mm-kay," Estel mumbled, his breaths evening out and slowing to a gentle rhythm.
"Sleep well, little one," Elrond muttered. "For your health is precious. All of the realm of men awaits your coming."
In his sleep, Estel sighed softly and curled up, one arm squeezed tightly around El.
"If only you knew…little one."
THE END