(Text in italics indicates thought.)
Well, it is here, yet again, as always. Every year I endeavor to let it go by unnoticed by me, every year I fail miserably. How could it possibly go unnoticed to even a thick-skulled Dwarf? Always it announces its imminent arrival with a little note on my desk from Elrond reading something to the effect of,
"Erestor - Have you thought about the decorating? Please do not forget, no mistletoe or ereg indoors. Perfectly lovely as they are, I do not wish anyone to be sickened by accidental ingestion. Many thanks, mellon-nin! E"
Like I could forget. Then once I stuff my personal opinions back into a deep, dark corner of my fëa and draft the decorating plans, I think to myself that my part in this madness is done and I can go on ignoring. Not so fast, old Erestor! For who else shall plan the feasts and schedule the festivities, and further make certain that nothing goes horribly awry?
Certainly, it is such a merry time of year that only an orc could despise the celebrations. A pleasure to meet you, I am Erestor, the Yule Orc.
Don't take me wrongly, it is not that I hold anything against the whole point of the thing. Who doesn't look forward to Anor returning to the high skies, bringing us light and warmth again? I, for one, look quite forward to it, for I detest the cold. Whoever gave the impression that Elves are not affected by the weather is a fool. Why else would hithlain have been invented? Why, for those of us Eldar who take chill, rare as we may be.
What I can not stand is the way this occurrence has the enduring ability to turn the most sensible of the Eldar into giddy, ridiculous fools. For days before Yule they all go about singing and bouncy and full of cheer (a.k.a. Miruvor and Dorwinion). They turn into the most annoying creatures imaginable. In short, they all begin to act exactly like Glorfindel!
Lindir is the worst of them. For weeks he insists upon "practicing" his repertoire for the Longest Night gathering. Never mind the fact that it is exactly the same every single year. We have three weeks yet to go and if I have to hear his rendition Mor Du one more time i am actually going to turn into an orc.
The Twins…for the love of Eru, do not ask!
Bless Arwen, the little princess is the most sensible about it all. Except of course when it comes to her Yule gown. Lucky daerada Celeborn, that is his problem this Yule. I shouldn't like to have any idea what her Ladyship of the Golden Wood is like this time of year!
And I have already begun to consider what Elrond says, every year, about the dangers of the berries of those lovely evergreens he refuses to have in the house. I have considered adding them to Glorfindel's dessert! One should see the great fool, with acorns suspended from his braids, declaring himself the Oak King, come to triumph over Ar-Ereg.
Yes, I am quite ahead of schedule. Normally I am not this irritable and stressed for another week yet.
It is just all so superficial and meaningless. The elflings say that wishes made at this magical season come true… I have never had the heart to tell them that this is not so. Every single year I wish for nothing but a quiet, peaceful Yuletide. I sit here at this desk and daydream of spending the blessed day alone, completely alone, in the woods, peacefully watching as anor slips down into the West. I would spend the night there, watching Elbereth's stars kindled one by one for their longest show of the year, and I would simply appreciate the quietude. I would spend that time in reflection, contemplating all of Arda's little wonders, so that it would be a night of renewal for me as well as for Middle Earth. I would ponder the year to come and the one gone by, and thank the Valar for the constant cycles of their heavens. After as many years as I have seen, one comes to learn that only they can truly be counted upon.
But no, every year the day (and night) revolve around all of Imladris being gathered in the Hall of Fire, singing (or listening impatiently) to the songs Lindir has been singing and strumming since the last high day. There is the feast, and then more singing and revelry. Every. Single. Year. Sometimes I wonder if these Elves even know what the Yule is, other than Erestor's work, Lindir's songs, and other such "for granted" foolish. Those who do step out of the house for a moment usually only do so for a breath of air.
Well, I for one have had more than enough! This year I intend to mark the day as I find best. After luncheon I shall simply put on my cloak and go to find myself some secluded spot for the long night. Let the rest of them carry on with their songs and togetherness, I am going to meditate single-handed!
Ever true to his word, Erestor did what he had promised himself he would do. On Yule day after taking a light repast with those in the Peredhel circle, he went to his chambers to fetch his cloak and to slip into proper outdoor boots. He also took with him a couple of blankets and packed a small meal that he could enjoy all alone during his time of contemplation.
He kept a wary watch about him as he sneaked out of the house. He did not wish to encounter anyone who might wonder why he was dressed for a journey.
And if Glorfindel even dreams of attacking me with frozen-precipitation projectiles…. But no, no thoughts of the Golden Halfwit today. This is a day for harmony, to be at one with the cycles of Arda and the airs beyond. This night I shall have unbroken peace!
Erestor moved quietly through the gardens and with some haste until he was well away from the house. On he walked through the woods, relaxing more and more the further he went, opening up to the natural world around him, letting it fill his senses. He already felt more like an Elf than the balrog he'd been compared to for weeks.
After walking for nearly an hour, Erestor came to watch he felt was the perfect place to rest. He was still well sheltered by trees, but he could see the sky well in the clearing. He was high up enough to be able to see most of the stars in all directions.
Erestor set out the hithlain blankets he'd brought along and decided to snuggle up under a pine tree for a while, since the sun was shining brightly and would contribute some warmth. A little cat nap would be a welcome treat, a guilty pleasure that Erestor permitted himself to indulge in perhaps once every millennium.
When Erestor woke, he was covered in a very fine dusting of snow, contrasting so starkly against his all-sable garments. The sun had started to dip low in the west, on its way to its longest rest of the year.
Erestor rose and, leaning back against the tree he napped under, began to nibble on the little treats he'd brought along. The sun slowly set in a blaze of beauty that Erestor felt so connected to. A warm smile spread through him as he congratulated himself for this fine idea that allowed him to appreciate the holiday for once instead of dreading it. Everything was just right, and felt right, moreover.
The glow died down until there was scarcely a hint of light left in the sky, then Erestor began to notice the stars taking over, confidently ready for the darkest evening of the year.
Briefly Erestor wondered how the Last Homely House was getting on in it's celebrations without him. Well, he'd put everything in place so perfectly that nothing could go awry, and as long as everything went smoothly, he doubted he'd be missed.
No matter though. They can function without me as well as I can function without them. And then when I make my way back after this wonderful night, I will be much easier to work with. Maybe I will even be relaxed enough to permit Glorfindel into my office! Though, that is stretching things a bit.
Darkness surrounded Erestor but for the stars shining happily on above. He felt entirely in his element, he felt blissful. I think I shall make time for this healing more often.
Everything was silent around him. Peace. Silence.
All but that crying off in the distance. Erestor sighed. What manner of bird carries on at this hour of the night? Or perhaps it's just an unhappy, cold creature. Ignore it.
Only it became nigh impossible to ignore after it spent half an hour crying incessantly. The longer Erestor heard it, the more he thought that it did not really sound like any animal or bird he knew of. It sounded like the twins sounded when their "peredhel" side kicked in and made them colicky.
The issue is not yours, Erestor, just enjoy the night.
But over the next half-hour, the crying continued and it was truly driving Erestor to distraction. It wasn't too close, just on the edge of his Elven hearing range, but it was persistent.
I am going to have to move away if this keeps up much longer. It's as bad as Glorfindel's singing! I should hate to move from here though, I am set up so comfortably for the night. Erestor sighed and burrowed deeper into his blankets. The crying did not stop, though.
Eventually, pro-active as ever, Erestor decided to see if he could do something to make it stop, like putting the fledgling back into its nest or sharing some of his food with whatever hungry animal it might be. Then he could go straight back to his peace and quiet for the long night.
Erestor moved through the dark in the direction of the crying. Before long he came to a stand of pines, from within the mournful sounds were loudest. Erestor grew cautious, a wild creature might be calling this its den and in that case would not take kindly to being intruded upon by some prying Elf. Erestor moved silently toward the trees, peering through the branches to see if this was a situation he could do something about or not.
What he saw there shocked him. There lay a tiny Mortal child. The child was dressed as for a journey in the winter, but his little face was bright red from crying, and the cold was not helping. For a moment Erestor did not know what to do. Surely this child's mother or father had to be nearby, for such a little one could not just wander all the way to Imladris on his own.
The child immediately moved toward Erestor, looking desperate for help. Erestor instinctively lifted the babe into his arms and wrapped him in his cloak. He touched the child's face, finding him to be almost without warmth at all. Erestor was stunned that anyone would leave a baby on his own in this weather, a Mortal one at that!
He held the child close as the little one snuggled against Erestor, intuitively seeking warm contact. Erestor thought it best to find this little one's ada or nana and point them in the direction of the Last Homely House. Then he could return to his little personal enclave for the night. Erestor followed to the path the child had made, obviously seeking this shelter for himself, the bright little fellow. As he came around a huge oak, he had yet another fright. A young woman lay at the roots of the tree, wrapped in a cloak, her arm exposed eerily, as if reaching out toward her child.
Erestor needed not check the lady's vital signs, it was clear to Elven eyes that there was no life within the frozen body there. As he knelt beside her in shock of this horrible fate, he recognized her cloak clasp – a green stone, an emblem of the Dûnedain Rangers. The G rune embroidered upon the breast told the tale to the astute advisor; this was Gilraen, the wife of the Dûnedain chieftain Arathorn. But that would make this child… Aragorn, Isildur's heir!
The child in his arms sobbed heavily, as if he knew that his mumma was dead, and Erestor snapped out of his disbelief. He had to get this little one back to Elrond, immediately. Erestor held him tighter and covered him up further.
Valar…how could I have known this night would be so terrible? Can I get this child back in time? I have to try, there is nothing else for it. If only I'd brought Mornië!
Erestor moved swiftly through the woods, but still he feared that he could not get this Mortal child to help quickly enough. Even wrapped up in hithlain, the babe was not regaining warmth. The wind was picking up and a snow storm was near breaking. Erestor might not enjoy the cold weather, but it would not harm him, per se. Little Aragorn, on the other hand… it did not bear contemplating.
Through the noise of the whipping, frigid wind, Erestor could have sworn he heard bells ringing. His first thought was:
How dare that oaf come out here after me!
Until he realized that the oaf, with Asfaloth under him, had a much better chance of saving this child than he did himself on foot. And so Erestor shouted for Glorfindel, and for the first time not in a livid rage. For a few minutes they called out each other's names, making their way toward one another through the snow storm that was now a full out blizzard.
Finally Glorfindel saw Erestor, all in black and visible even through the thick snow. "What are you doing out here?" Glorfindel exclaimed. "Do you know how worried I was when I couldn't find you any-"
"Silence!" Erestor all but screamed, Glorfindel might be their salvation, this once, but he still aggravated the Noldo. "I came out here to be alone, but I found a terrible tragedy. We've got to get to Elrond at once. This child is freezing to death!"
"Freezing… what… Erestor, child?" Glorfindel gaped.
For a second Erestor just stared. "Help me up!" Glorfindel obliged, lifting the slighter Elf up to sit in front of him. "Not what I had in mind," Erestor grumbled. "Well, ride, will you? This is an urgent situation!"
Glorfindel spoke the words to Asfaloth and the white steed shot out so fast that Erestor nearly lost his hold on the child. "Will you explain this?" Glorfindel nearly shouted as they rode.
"Do not yell in my ear!" Erestor shot back. "I am equipped with the same intense hearing you are, despite the wind shear. I heard him crying and went to see if I could help, I found him freezing and his mother not far away. Lady Gilraen did not survive."
"Lady… Gilraen?" Glorfindel faltered. But then, that would make the baby Erestor shielded… "Aragorn?! Noro lim!" he said urgently to Asfaloth.
Neither Elf spoke again until they clattered into the courtyard of the Last Homely House. Glorfindel leapt down and assisted Erestor who promptly shoved him away and ran inside, calling for Elrond.
Elrond emerged from the Hall of Fire looking a bit put out. "Erestor, what is the trouble? Surely it can wait, this is Yu-"
"If it waits, this child will die!" Erestor shouted. Erestor removed his cloak to reveal the freezing descendent of Elendil.
Elrond just stared in alarm for a moment until his healer's instincts kicked in. He moved quickly down the hallway toward the healing wing as Erestor followed on his heels, described how he'd found the child and his dead mother in the woods. Elrond took the little one into his own arms and saw that the little one was shivering violently and barely reacted to the change in presence, not a good sign.
Glorfindel was last to come in, after sending Asfaloth to the stables. "What do we need, Elrond?" he asked calmly, used to assisting the Lord of Imladris with medical procedures.
Elrond shook his head as he headed back to the Hall of Fire with the babe in his arms. "Fetch some heavy blankets, please," he asked. "We must get him warm again before we can assess any other conditions. I will sit with him by the hearth until he is safe," Elrond said, planning to use the fireplace, body heat, and warm blankets to get Arathorn's son through this.
"No," Erestor sternly protested unexpectedly. "What you propose does not require healing knowledge, so I shall be the one who sees this child through. I found him and, gods be merciful, his poor nana. He will stay with me tonight." Erestor reached out to take Aragorn back into his arms and he sat down on the floor, directly beside the blazing hearth. Few of those who were gathered there had ever seen such a thing as Master Erestor seated upon the floor, but Erestor did not care. "You two go and fetch those blankets, and then let us have peace and quiet here tonight. Everyone can celebrate elsewhere; this is now officially a healing chamber."
Once Erestor and little Aragorn were snugly wrapped in several layers of hithlain and the fire banked up well for the night, everyone left the hall to continue to Yule vigil (read festiveness) and wonder about how Erestor came to have a child in his care.
The hours passed slowly by as Erestor willed the child to regain warmth. After some while he felt the child's little arms move, gripping the Elf in a sort of hug. Erestor tentatively touched the child's cheek and was relieved to find it was no longer quite so chilled. Aragorn looked up at Erestor and lifted his head up just enough to place a childlike little kiss on Erestor's chin.
It was then that Erestor broke down, holding the child close to him and thanking the Valar for protecting this innocent child, not even taking into account the fact of who he was. Erestor himself had a chill run down his back when it came to him that had he not gone out that day seeking solitude, this child would not be here.
So ironic, he thought, brushing back the dark hair of Isildur's heir, I went to be alone, to seek quiet. Had it not been interrupted, you would have died out there.
He looked out the window as the sky grew lighter over Imladris's high cliffs. The sun was rising after the longest night. As the day dawned in brilliant colors, signaling the start of brighter days and bringing the promise of warmth and growth, Erestor smiled.
Never have I had such a wonderful Yule night. For Yule is all about hope, so I shall call you from now on Estel, o Arathornion-neth.
That day, as Elrond cared for Estel's medical needs, Erestor found a report on his desk that had been left by Elladan on Yule morning. He mentioned that there had been an orc-fight and that a number of Dûnedain were killed. It closed saying that he and his brother would be riding out in two days, after the Yule celebrations, to see if the survivors needed help. Erestor, in a wholly uncharacteristic move, throw the parchment into his hearth. He would not be angry with the twins, for they could not know. He had worked it out well enough without having to know the specifics. Arathorn was killed by orcs, Gilraen knew she and her child needed to find the haven of Imladris as so many of Isildur's heirs in years passed had. Only the courageous lady had not made it, and her son would not have either, had it not been for the grace of the Valar.
Erestor knew that this orphaned edan was destined for greatness one day, though he would have to stand many trials first. As Elrond monitored the sleeping boy's temperature he and Erestor discussed the situation. Apparently, had Glorfindel not found Erestor when he did, they would have been at risk of becoming orc fodder, for several of the brutes had been tracking Gilraen. Clearly Isildur's heirs were being pursued.
Elrond agreed that Aragorn needed to be keep safe in their haven, and agreed that he should take the child into his care, since he had parenting experience. It was Erestor who pushed the issue of hiding his identity though. Glorfindel was set against the idea, but the twins tipped the balance in Erestor's favor when, upon being informed of the new addition to the house, they said in enthusiastic unison, "a little brother!"
"He is Estel, Elrond. That is his name," Erestor said confidently, "and so he shall be, to all of Arda one day."