A/N Ah, the innocence of children. Poor Elves… they won't know what hit 'em.
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A five-year-old Estel had a question. He didn't consider it a very important question. He was merely curious. Unfortunately, this was a rather uncomfortable sort of curiosity for his first victim.
"Glorfindel?" he asked cheerfully, standing on tiptoe to see over the desk at which the seneschal was sitting, sipping wine. "Where do babies come from?"
Estel had to duck to miss the spray of wine that came his way.
"I… I beg your pardon?" Glorfindel asked. Estel wondered why his cheeks were suddenly very red.
"Where do babies come from?"
Glorfindel's mouth opened, moved a little bit, then stayed open.
Worrying that he was sick, Estel asked, "Are you alright, Glorfindel?"
"Um, yes, th-thank you, Estel," the Elf said, still looking rather breathless. "Er, why do you not ask your brothers?"
It was an even more curious Estel that agreed and pranced out of the room, and a very embarrassed and very relieved Glorfindel that watched him go.
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"Elladan? Elrohir?" Estel asked politely, standing with his brothers at the entrance of the stables.
"Yes, Estel?"
"Where do babies come from?"
The twins stared at him, their eyes wide.
"Where do… whats come from?" Elrohir choked out.
"Babies."
Elrohir looked to his twin, who looked back, completely at a loss as for how to answer this question. But Elladan, being a very crafty and very cruel Elf, suddenly allowed a gleam of mischief to creep into his eyes.
"You know who will have the answer, Estel?" he said pleasantly, crouching to his little brother's level.
"Who?"
"Erestor. He knows everything."
Slightly frustrated now, Estel marched off to Erestor's study, leaving a chortling pair of Elves behind him.
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"Erestor? May I ask you a question?"
"Of course you may, Estel," Erestor said, neatening the papers on his desk.
"Where do babies come from?"
The papers went everywhere.
When Erestor had caught his breath and some of the papers, he gaped as collectedly as he could. "Where did you hear such a question?"
"I thought of it myself," Estel said proudly.
Erestor's mouth opened and moved, just like Glorfindel's, before setting to a firm line. Erestor decided he might try to settle his score with the golden Elf using this little adan and his curiosity.
"Have you asked Glorfindel?"
"Yes."
"Ah," Erestor said disappointedly.
"He told me to ask Elladan and Elrohir."
"And did you?"
"Yes."
"What did they say?"
"They said to come to you," Estel beamed, "because you know everything."
Erestor made a mental note to do some very unpleasant things to the twins very soon.
"I think that is a question for your father, Estel," he said finally.
Looking disgruntled, Estel huffily left the room, not realizing that he now had several followers, all interested in the turnout of the little fosterling's quest.
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Estel entered his father's study boldly, leaving Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel unnoticed by him at the door. They all peered discreetly inside.
"Ada," he said firmly, determined to receive an answer, "where do babies come from?"
Elrond was caught completely off guard, and stared at his youngest. This surprised Estel. Stumping Erestor had been quite a feat, but causing his father to be at a loss for words should be recorded in history.
"Babies?" Elrond repeated uncertainly. Glancing up, he finally saw the four pairs of innocently and warily interested eyes watching from the crack in the door.
"Yes."
Elrond pondered how to answer this question. Scientifically? No, that would confuse the child. Literally? That would scar him.
Then brilliance struck.
"How about we ask your mother?" he said with a smile, taking the irritated boy's hand and leading him out of the study, while the small audience outside the door scuttled out of the way, shifting under his glare. For he knew exactly who had sent Estel to him with such a question.
Elrond made a mental note to do some very unpleasant things to them very soon.
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Elrond knocked on Gilraen's door, and opened it when bidden, allowing Estel in first. He hung back with the others at the door, afraid to enter.
"Nana?" Estel asked, standing hopefully before his mother. "Where do babies come from?"
Gilraen suddenly understood why the rest of Estel's family, including the great and wise lords of Imladris, were all huddled awkwardly at the door and watching her desperately, as though begging her to cure the boy of the plague.
Sighing, she placed her stitching aside and gathered Estel into her lap. Males truly overreacted sometimes.
"Babies," she said, taking Estel's near-baby hands in her own, "come to a nana and an ada when the ask for one. A baby is a wonderful gift, and is only given to a nana and ada when they love each other very much and promise to love the baby very much."
Estel nodded sagely. "I see. But how exactly does the baby get there?"
Without missing a beat, Gilraen answered. "A great white stork brings it to the nana and ada. He carries it from a length of swaddling in his beak."
"Oh!" Estel said, enlightened. "That makes sense."
And with that, he hopped off his mother's lap and skipped out of the room, humming to himself, the incident forgotten.
The Elves shuffled nervously at Gilraen's door, looking ashamed. Gilraen tried hard not to smirk. It didn't work.
"What do you say?" she said sweetly, raising a pleasant eyebrow at them.
"Thank you, Gilraen," came the smattering of murmurs, and her smirk grew as she watched the Elves shuffle abashedly back to their work, their faces not a little red.
Sighing and chuckling a little, she returned to her needlework, making a mental note to remind them periodically of this occasion, and to tell Estel of it when he was old enough to find humor in it and share in the joy of teasing.