As I hold my beautiful baby daughter in my arms, I have the distinct feeling that I am in far over my head. How does one raise a daughter? Who should one be?

Should I be a mentor, a teacher, strong and stern, wise, one to be respected? Or a friend, close, kind, open, one always willing to ride around the valley? Should I teach her to fight? Or let the ladies do most of her training and bring her up as a "proper" elleth? Should I allow myself to be wrapped around her finger? Should I dote on her? Do elf-lords dote?

So many questions. And for all my supposed wisdom, I have no answers. But I'm not about to run off to ask Celeborn. Though Celebrían turned out well, if I do say so myself, and he's kindly in his own way, I'm not that desperate. I refuse to ride to Lórien, go through the greeting process, and have to arrange for the appropriate gifts to be sent (which Galadriel will politely refuse) all to ask my father-in-law a question of parenting. I would never hear the end of it! For the next millennium I would hear of nothing but "Poor young Elrond, can't even manage having a daughter! Well, that's how the folk in Imladris are. What did my daughter see in that place?" And then for the next few hundred years after that when conversation topics were scarce someone would bring it up. No. I will not subject myself to that. I suppose I'm brave. But not that brave.

I don't know why having a daughter seems so much more complicated. With my sons there was none of this. But then again, the raising of boys is easy. You hit them a few times with practice swords, sit them atop a horse, and there! You're a father! But it's different with a daughter. I'm the one she'll go to when Celebrían won't let her do something, I'm the one who'll have the last say in things, I'm the one…

Oh no. Suitors. I'm going to have to deal with those too! And she's sure to have a lot of them, her mother being as beautiful as she is. And I'm the one who'll decide whether they're good enough, who they'll go to for permission, who'll arrange everything with the parents of whatever Elf she ends up wedding. Of course Celebrían will have a part, but in the end doesn't the father decide these things? A strange tradition, really, perhaps one I can change? Oh, probably not.

Perhaps I should ask Celeborn. I'm sure he's not called "The Wise" for nothing… No. I refuse. There is no possible way I'd live that down. And anyway, is there anyone besides Galadriel that calls him "wise"?

I look down at the sleeping child in my arms and sigh. "Why do I have the feeling you'll be the death of me?"

But at the sound of my voice she gurgles in her sleep and snuggles closer to my chest, gripping a finger with one hand and sucking on the other. And now I know I'm gone. I will most assuredly be a doting father.

Do elf-lords dote?

OoOoOo

I hope you enjoyed! 'Tis my first LotR fanfic I've published, though not the first I've written. I hope you enjoyed, and of course any and all reviews are love.