Disclaimer: Wakabe Writing Firm doesn't own Lord of the Rings

A/N: Natsumi is taking a break from cute Estel, and indulging in a small sad Estel kick. Quite frankly, Miss Natsumi's mood swings are giving me a headache, but what do you expect from one who's no longer so young, and feels the weight of her newly acquired year? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, even if some tears come. Many thanks, and please be kind and review. -Damon (Banshee Secretary, Wakabe Writing Firm)


Even in dreams he could not escape from the cruel words and thoughtless deed of those that surrounded him in a haven of light and culture that he did not belong to. They haunted him, making him question his worth, his merit, again and again. It made him want so badly to be as perfect as his elven counterparts, to be as flawless and wonderful as they were in their immortal beauty. Oh, he was very well aware that they were his elven counterparts. He knew that he was not one of them, knew that he was not one of them. He knew that he was different from those around him, completely innocent of the knowledge of what made him different from them. He knew that he was not one of them, that this difference between them and him went beyond ears and hair, that there was something more that separated him from his new family.

And perhaps, it had something to do with the phenomena that he was watching form the safety of shadows and leaves.

He knew that he was not supposed to be out at night, that even in the safety of home he could get hurt. His small fall down the stairs a week ago had proved that, but he needed to know. He wanted to know why it was that he was so different from his brothers, why his ada was different from him, what made it so that he could not be like so many others that loved him, cared for him.

He needed to know why he was so different. Because if he knew why, if he knew what made him different, then he could change. He would eat all his vegetables without complaining, he wouldn't get scared when the storms came and were so loud that he huddled under his blankets to try and escape their ferocity. He would always remember to say please and thank you. He would even take his baths without fuss! But he needed to know what made him so different from his family before he could do that.

That was why he was there in the gardens, watching all the other elves walking around. They were unaware of their little watcher, or at least, they pretended to be if they did notice him at all. They were walking so calmly, so quietly, that only the rustle of cloth gliding over grass, or the soft conversations that passed between pairs and trios, and the soft laughter of women and the deeper chuckles of the men. And through it all, they glowed.

They glowed. Not in the way that they did in the sun when they smiled and laughed, when they beamed and glowed from happiness. This was an actual light that came from them. Even with the few lamps that were lit with a small flame that guided the path, he could easily tell that this was not a light from those things, with a flame of actual fire to illuminate them, but a fire from within, one that no flame could ever be as soft as.

"How do they do it?" Estel whispered to himself, entranced by what he saw. He looked down on himself, frowning at the lack of glow that he saw all of the others with. He glanced back up, looking to all the others that were there, so happy and joyful and full of easy smiles and quiet laughter. He rapidly blinked his eyes, trying to dispel the tears that had started to gather there. He would not cry. Why would he cry? Why should he cry, just because he could not glow? It was not like it was something that he would not find a way to gain. He just needed to find out what they ate or did or said that made them glow. If he could figure it out, if he could find the secret that was hidden from him, then all would be well again, and he would never have to worry about things like ears that were not pointed or hair that was not well behaved. He would be happy, would be part of them, and would never have to wonder about where he belonged.

But what made them glow? He wracked his mind for the answers, calling up every memory that he had. There was no way that it could be anything they ate- he ate the same things. In fact, he sometimes had a bit more than they did. He laughed with them, and though his laughter was usually louder, and his giggles a bit more high pitched, it was nothing that should affect him so much that he lacked so much of the elven qualities that the rest of them displayed. Maybe it was because he was younger? But no, that could not be it, because one of his few elven friends had glowed as well, the few times that they had kept each other company in the darkness, when waiting for others or for sleep ins.

Suddenly, he faltered, and raised a shaking hand to his ears. Maybe... maybe they glowed because they had pointed ears. A shudder ran through Estel's body, but from pain or sorrow or shock, he did not know, nor did he care. It suddenly did not matter what he did, he realized, if he did everything that the adults told him. It would not matter if he went to bed when he was told, if he studied really hard in all his tutorials, if he washed and bathed without complaint. Because his good behavior would not be rewarded with the answering of his wish. He would not be an elf. He would not be like his brothers, who were so wonderful and clever and smart and strong. He would not be like his ada, who was so strong and loving, who could heal every ouchie and kiss away all the boo boos. He would not be like Glorfy, who was a powerful warrior, able to take down any that dared oppose him. He would not be as wise as Restor, who could so easily argue circles around so many around him, able to bring others to their knees in the face of his sharp tongue.

And he would never be able to dispute what the others said about him.

Because now, he knew it was true. He was not like them, could never dream to hope to match them in their perfection, so blessed by the Valar that even those that were taken to Mandos's Halls would one day be reunited with their loved ones in Valinor one day.

Suddenly, Estel was very tired. He turned away from the garden, and crawled from his hiding spot, headed back to the house with tears that streamed down his face. As he passed through the halls, miraculously unseen to those that dwelt within, he paused as he heard laughter and clapping coming from the Hall of Fire. He shuffled away, thinking of how he would never truly be able to share in that. He couldn't deny what he wasn't anymore, not when he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wasn't one of them. He didn't belong.

He went to bed, tears still streaming down his face, hoping to wake up with pointed ears and straight hair; a fanciful dream that he knew would never be.