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

A/N: Another thing Natsumi's been working on when she should be concentrating on NaNo. On the plus side, she's less than 3000 words away from her goal, so I guess it's okay. Hope you enjoy, and please review.-Damon (Banshee Secretary, Wakabe Writing Firm)

Estel Elrondion was a wandering child. From a young age, he was prone to walking off, away from the safety of his guardians. No matter how well watched he was, no matter how many guardians he had, he was prone to disappearing, sometimes for hours on end, before reappearing at his brother's sides, often with innocent eyes and a big smile that some times (most times) got him out of most trouble.

The first time Estel disappeared he was two years old. He was newly arrived at the Halls of Imladris, and his mother was in the surgery, a sickness having fallen upon him shortly after she had ensured his safety in the Last Homely House, her body unwilling and unable to fight as her spirit grieved deeply for the other half of her soul. Estel had been put down for a nap, expected to sleep for at least three hours. But, as a child of Arathorn's unexpected nature and Gilraen's determination, he woke after only an hour. Upon seeing his room devoid of his mother, he wriggled from out under the covers that had twisted around his small and soft form, rolling and twisting until his prison of linen released him. Looking around, he knew that he was alone, and that his mother wasn't there. And Estel was not okay with that.

With a puff, he wriggled down the side of the bed, plopping down onto the floor and toddled over to the door. Though the handle was far over his head and there wasn't a chair around, Estel was determined to get outside. On his little tiptoes he stretched up, his tiny fingers just brushing against the metal handle, but it was enough to turn it. The door opened so suddenly that Estel didn't have enough time to catch himself as he fell forward. Besides a small "oomph!" from the boy, Estel made no other sound, instead clambering back up and rocking back and forth down the hall.

Unknown to him, his new big brothers had just come up to check on him, wanting to spend a little time with him. So imagine their surprise when they opened the door to find their little brother missing. For a moment, they thought they were seeing things. After all, Estel had never been one to skip out on naps, and his record was five hours, with a minimum of two. Instantly, the twins rushed to the bed, then running around the room, calling for Estel. When they knew that he was not in the room, they huddled together for a moment, trying to come up with a plan.

"He's not here!"

"He can't have gone far!"

"But which way?"

Both twins exited the vacant room, looking left, then right, before looking at each other.

"You take left?"

"You take right."

They separated, not knowing where to look, but determined to find him, never knowing that he had taken to the stairs that lay on the right.

As little Estel wandered the halls, his big eyes taking in the beauty of his new home, he kept looking around, looking for the one he sought. For one so young, he made little sound, instead content to stay silent in the pursuit of his mother. As he crossed into another hall, a pathway that led him over a garden beneath, he chanced to look down.

His eyes widened, taking in the sight of flowers that he remembered from Before. Papa used to give them to Mama, and she would always smile and she looked so happy when she had that nice red flower. And Estel wanted to see his mother happy, wanted to see her smile again, without the Sad that was there now. And the flowers always made her Not Sad, so he should get her one and she would be happy again, like Before. With such logic, he set to work trying to reach the flowers that grew on the bush. But for all of his wiggling and reaching, even when he went flat on his stomach and had almost half his body over the edge, his little hand reaching down, trying so hard to grab the flower just out of his reach.

Which was exactly how he was found by the residential curmudgeon.

A hand shot out and dragged him from his place on the floor, making him gasp but still not utter a word.

"What do you think you're doing?" Though the voice of the cantankerous elf did not rise to the level of shouting, there was a harshness to it that often came when someone was caught doing something stupid. Estel's eyes grew wider, tears pooling in his eyes as his breath hitched. Instantly, with a gentleness and care that most elves in Imladris would have thought impossible for the normally surly elf, Erestor held the boy close, rubbing circles into his back. He gently hushed the boy, barely more than a babe, in his arms with practiced ease, rocking back and forth until the tears were over and his breath did not hitch as much.

"What were you doing, tithen pen?" he asked more gently. "You shouldn't be leaning over rails, you could fall."

"Flower," Estel answered, still snuggled into the elf's chest, his face buried in the place where Erestor's neck met his shoulders. Erestor's brown eyes flickered to the rose-bush, grip tightening slightly at the thought of those thorns tearing into baby soft skin, and the possibilities of a broken bone if the boy had fallen.

"Would you like a flower?" he asked after a few minutes, breathing deeply and forcing his usually biting tongue to be gentle in order to keep the tears at bay.

"F'r Mama."

Ah, Erestor thought to himself. So that is what this is about. Pulling the boy from his hiding spot, Erestor looked at the child in his arms.

"Estel," he began.

" 'Rgorn," corrected Estel.

"Estel," Erestor insisted. "If I get you the flower, will you promise me that you won't lean over the railing again?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay." Erestor set Estel down, then got on his own belly and scooted forward until he was able to pluck one of the roses from the bush below. Then, after standing, he bent forward and gave it to the boy.

"Here you are, my little lord." Though the words would seem sarcastic, Erestor's face had gentled, the corners of his mouth no longer harsh, and his eyes held something akin to love and softness that many adults reserved solely for children. The smile, bright and happy, he received in return was more than enough payment.

"Fank you," he breathed out, voice little more than a whisper but full of awe and innocent love.

"You are welcome." Erestor watched as Estel looked at the flower as if it held all the beauty of the world, considering what he knew of this child, and the loss he'd faced too soon in life. Then he thought of the fact that the little one had escaped his room to find his mother, and the harm he had almost put himself into trying to get a gift for the Lady Gilraen. Decision made, he swept him up, silently chuckling at the squeak that came from Estel.

"Come now, we haven't much time to lose if you want to see your mother before supper."

Meanwhile, the twins had gone all over the house, looking into every crevice, every hiding spot they remembered from their youth, before regrouping in Estel's room. Worried, the two of them had started debating what to do and how best to go about explaining to a sick mother that they'd lost her baby. Deciding it would be best to do it now than wait and hope Estel turned up, both headed to the hospital wing, shoulders stiff and faces grim, opening the door...

Only to see the one they had been looking for sitting on the bed, babbling happily to his tired but smiling mother, one hand firmly gripping the hand of the Terror of Imladris, who looked more relaxed than they had seen in decades, if not centuries.

Their jaws dropped, and would have remained so had Lord Erestor not turned his unamused eyes on them.

"Close your jaws, or you'll catch flies."

Estel giggled, Gilraen laughed, and the twins vowed to never speak of the incident ever again.

So, that's that. Don't know if I want to make it a series yet, but tell me what you think. Thanks, and enjoy!