INNOCENCE
by Soledad Cartwright
Disclaimer:
The characters, the context and the main plot belong to Professor Tolkien, whom I greatly admire. I'm only trying to fill in the gaps he so graciously left for us, fanfic writers, to have some fun. Only Erestor's family belongs to me.
Rating: PG for this chapter.
Please read Warnings before the Prologue.
Dedication: to Deborah, with heartfelt thanks for Elrond's background.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Now, before any lore-masters get upset with me: I *do* know that according ''Morgoth's Ring'' Elves are supposed to reach their maturity at the age of 50. It just seems too unrealistic to me that people who would live millennia, would be considered as adults with a mere 50 years. *This* is a part of ''official'' lore that I simply chose to ignore, presuming that any self-respecting Elf would need at least a couple of centuries to learn the history and the vast knowledge of their Elders, and that with time passing by, this period of their life would become even longer, since there will be more and more stuff to learn.
So, for the sake of my stories I decided that while they *may* reach *physical* maturity in 100 years, to reach *legal* age would take at least two more centuries, depending on their education and the future position they will have to fill. Also, I chose a more adaptable system, where simple Mirkwood archers, for example, would reach their legal age at 200, being only in need to learn the old lays and some herbal lore, aside of archery practice, of course, while someone in Legolas' position would need a long and thorough education, that could last as long as 300-500 years, since he is supposed to become a King one day.
Also, we have no idea, exactly *when* the Istari came to Middle-earth. The Unfinished Tales only says they appeared first around the year 1000 in the Third Age. But since they had gone around in the disguise of Men for a long time, it's a distinct possibility that they might have come earlier... and that the Wise of the Eldar such as Elrond and Celeborn would have known them long before the Kings of Arnor or Gondor. The date of their arrival plays no significant role for this tale, but I needed Lindir to arrive in Imladris at a fairly young age (for an Elf), so I've removed the coming of the Istari to the beginning of the Third Age, maybe around Elladan and Elrohir's birth or just a little later (1).
CHAPTER TWO: THE FOUNDLING
In the upper library of Elrond's home - the one that stood open for any visitors - the Lord of the Valley was already waiting for the wizard, and with him sat Glorfindel, who had joined him, taking a shortcut and an other entrance. They both rose to greet the guest, as it is custom among Elves, even if they are from a House of Kings, and Elrond, too, spoke the traditional words of greeting in Quenya; then they all got seated again, even Erestor, as it was his right, due both to his office and his status as a foster son. The twin sons of the Lord and Lady, however, though they had reached maturity already, were not invited to this private council, so they left after the official greetings.
''Now, Master Aiwendil'', said Elrond, ''I understand that you have come to my home to make a request, am I right?''
''You are'', the wizard responded curtly, rejecting the wine proffered by Erestor with a shake of his head.
''You told me you have come to Imladris on behalf of the boy who has escorted you'', Celebrían took over. ''Who is he?''
''Oh, my good Lady'', the wizard sighed tremendously, ''that is a hard question to answer, indeed.''
Celebrían furrowed her smooth brow, seeing her suspicions affirmed. This seemed not good. Had the wizard truly sired the boy, the ramifications could be severe. The Lords of the West took not kindly when one of their subjects disobeyed orders.
''Is he yours?'', she asked straight out, making both her husband and his counsellors gasp over her boldness, for it was never wise to challenge one of the Istari.
But Radagast the Brown only shook his shaggy grey head. He did not seem offended at all by the uncharacteristically rude question. On the contrary - he almost seemed proud that they would think him to be the father of such a fair child.
''Nay, my Lady, though I would be happy to call him my own'', he said with a rueful smile, for he knew what he longed for was not allowed him. ''But the truth is, I know not myself who he is. I found him as a mere baby, some 200 years ago - or was it 300? I cannot remember. He was not older than two, perhaps three moons at that time, laying on the forest floor, wrapped only in a blanket.''
''Where did you find him?'', Celebrían asked.
''On the east side of the Ered Luin's southern range'', the wizard answered. ''I had just arrived to Middle-earth and left the Havens, on the search of a place to begin my labours, when I heard him calling out to the birds in the wordless speech of the little ones. I followed his sweet little voice and there he was, lying upon the fallen leaves from the last season, playing and laughing with the thrushes.''
''So he *is* an Elf'', Celebrían stated. The wizard nodded.
''He seems to be of Noldorin descent, though he might have some Telerin blood, too. For not only is his hair more silver than golden, he also has a gift in music, be it song or flute-play, more so than any Elf I have ever met, even beyond the Sea.''
''I wonder why he was left behind alone and by whom'', Elrond murmured, his heart going out for the poor youngling. To abandon a child was considered the greatest cruelty among Elves, and the memory of the small brothers of his mother who were left behind to die in the forest by the cruel sons of Fëanor was an echo of old pain in his family.
''Mayhap it did not happen by choice'', said Celebrían. ''Many of our kin keep travelling to Elostirion to look into the Seeing Stone and to sing hymns to the Valar in order to find their liking. His parents might have been assaulted an forced to hide their child in the forest. At that time the Blue Mountains were unguarded by the Kings of the North-kingdom, and many fell creatures still dwellt in the woods.''
''But if you saw that he was an Elf, why did you not bring him back to his own kin?'' Erestor asked the wizard. There was accusation in his tone, and Elrond glanced at his foster son with surprise. Erestor seldom lost his calm; the fate of the youngling must have awaken painful memories in his heart.
Radagast gave the young Elf a piercing look.
''To what end?'', he asked. ''He had no name, no family - that means no position among Elves. Who would have taken him into fostering care? The best he could have hoped for was to become a servant in some Elf Lord's household. Nay, I wanted to give him a better life.''
''And so you kept him'', Glorfindel said. ''But how did you succeed in raising him? Elven children of such tender age need special nourishment and very, very thorough care. Without a mother, or at least a female nurse, 'tis a wonder in itself that he survived.''
''Oh, but I had help'', the wizard smiled. ''I could not have done it by myself, for I knew naught about the nurturing of little elflings; not at that time, at least. I learnt much during those years, though.''
''That I can imagine'', the ancient Elf grinned. ''Where have you lived with him ere you moved to Rhosgobel?''
''On the best and safest place in Middle-earth'', Radagast answered, at once serious again. ''I brought him to Tyrn Gorthad(2), under Cardolan's hills by the Old Forest.''
The Lord and the Lady of the Valley, exchanged blank looks, and Erestor did not seem to understand the significance of this statement either, but Glorfindel smiled as if lingering on old, pleasant (and yet so sorrowful) memories.
''You brought him to Iarwain!'', he cried out in awe. ''To the homely house of the eldest and fatherless and his lovely wife, the River-daughter! The safest and most wonderful place in Middle-earth, indeed.''
''With other words, you abandoned him'', said Erestor with a slight, hostile hiss.
Celebrían shot him a warning glare that wuld have made both her grown sons cringle, but the wizard, fortunately, did not seem angry. He only shook his head.
''How could I have done such thing?'', he answered with a question of his own. ''He had captured my old heart at first sight. So very small he was, lying upon my arm, so trusting and innocent. Nay, I could never have left him. I wanted to see him grow up, to teach him and to protect him. But most of all I wanted him to keep his innocence in a way that no Elf had been able to keep since the Time of Awakening.''
''Then you truly brought him to the right place'', Glorfindel nodded, a smile full of hidden pain adorning his fair face. ''Have you stayed with him in Tyrn Gorthad?''
''For many long seasons'', Radagast grinned. ''I heard later that Curunír had been rather upset at times when he failed to find me.''
''That is an understatement'', murmured Elrond. ''According to Mithrandir he was fuming with wrath.''
''Curunír believes that his labours are the only ones of importance'', the wizard shrugged. ''Yet he knows less about the secrets of Arda than he fancies himself. He might know all about pretty toys made by the hands of Elves and Men, but he is not the one the trees and the birds talk to. Nor am I his servant, even if he thinks himself above of the rest of us.''
''Still'', Glorfindel remainded the wizard soberly,'' he *is* the head of your Order, and this gives him the right to interfere with your labours.''
''He already has'', Radagast sighed. ''I am ordered to meet him in the South, near the watchtower of Orthanc, for he has work for me. I have to leave today. I have already delayed my journey far too long.''
''In that case, you have chosen the ways around'', said Elrond a little surprised, ''in order to visit Imladris.''
''That I did'', the wizard nodded, ''for I wish to leave the boy here for an uncertain amount of time. I cannot take him with me; it might be dangerous for him. Besides, should Curunír learn that I had ignored his orders this long on the behalf of a mere child, he would take Lindir from me - if only to punish me for my disobedience.''(3)
''That might not even be his only reason'', Celebrían remarked with an uncharacteristically grim face - a sure sign that her maternal instincts signalled some sort of danger.
Elrond shot her a questioning look.
''What other reason could he possibly have?''
''You have not seen the boy yet, my love'', Celebrían sighed. ''He is of great beauty; such as I have rarely glimpsed in my whole life.''
''But my Lady, you cannot suppose the head of the Istari taking advantage of an under-aged elfling!'', Elrond murmured in utter bewilderment.
''Maybe not'', said Celebrían thoughtfully, ''but he is known to love things of beauty. He might take the boy as he would take an artfully crafted chalice: to possess his beauty and to adorn his halls with him. Nay, Master Aiwendil is right. Curunír must *not* see this child. He might be powerful and wise, but there is little love in his heart. His halls are not the right place for a young child.''
''But why did you not leave him with the Silvan folk?'', Glorfindel asked the wizard. ''Surely, Thranduil's realm would be more of his liking, having grown up in the forests.''
''He would not be safe with them'', said Radagast with a heavy sigh. ''He is much too fair for his own good. I saw how all watched him with hungry eyes, every time we visited Thranduil's court. And there are Men, too, living in the woods, and they are even worse. Besides'', he added quietly, ''should Curunír learn of the boy, the Wood-Elves could not protect him. Thranduil has no such power that could withstand the Istari. Only here does it dwell, or with Círdan in the Havens - or in Lórien.''
''And you chose *us* to keep him safe?'', Elrond asked. ''Why us? He would be safe on both of the other places, too.''
''Protection is not the only thing he needs'', Radagast answered. ''He needs to learn, too.''
Elrond frowned.
''Have you not taught him?''
''I taught him everything I could'', said the wizard, ''and he learnt even more while we dwelt under Iarwain's roof.. He learnt the music from the flowing and falling waters around Iarwain's house: from the soft waves of the river and from the splashing of rain on its surface. To sing he learnt from the winds and the birds and from the River-daughter herself. He knows the healing powers that are in the herbs and feels the changes of weather days before. He can talk to the trees like any Wood-Elf and tame wild beasts with a mere song. He is an easy child, quiet and pleasant-mannered - he would be no burden for you.''
''We doubt it not'', Celebrían said gently, seeing the grief of the old man over having to give away his precious child. ''Yet there is more, is there? Something that bothers you greatly, does it?''
''I meant no harm'', Radagast confessed sadly, ''yet I fear that in the folly of my old heart I *did* harm him. I wanted to keep him innocent, as innocent as his kin had been at the Time of Awakening ere Morgoth came, for I wanted to give your people back what they have lost - at least in this one child, to show them that there still *is* hope for all of you. Iarwain and the River-daughter certainly helped me to achieve *that*. But I only made him vulnerable. When we first ran into the Silvan folk near Rhosgobel, he fled up a tree like a squirrel. And I understood that I cannot separate him from his own people any longer, should he survive in Middle-earth.''
''So you want us to take him into fostering care and teach him all that he could not have learnt from you?'', Elrond asked.
''I beg you, my Lord'', the wizard said. ''No matter how the boy was brought up, he still *is* a Noldo; he belongs to a folk with a great history - and great skills that I cannot teach him, for I am a follower of Yavanna, not of Aulë. You would notice that he has a remarkable mind, worthy of learning from the greatest lore-master of this Age - not to mention Glorfindel whose memories reach back to the Dawn of Days.''
Elrond thought about the wizard's request for a while. The others waited patiently for his decision, for as in all things in Imladris, he had the last word in this matter as well.
''You can leave the youngling here, and I shall protect him as you have asked for, Master Aiwendil'', he finally said. ''We would also tutor him in all things necessary. I shall, however, *not* receive him as a foster son.''
Every one in the library was slightly bewildered by this decision.
''Why not?'', Celebrían asked with a frown. ''You did not hesitate to accept Erestor, if I have been told rightly.''
''True'', nodded Elrond, ''But Erestor knew who his parents were. By taking him into my home I did not severe his roots. He might have grown up as my fosterling, but he always has been and always will be the son of Hargil, the jewel-smith of Eregion. I never wanted him to deny his true ancestry and to think that he would belong to *my* House(4).
Nor can I take young Lindir the right to find his true kindred one day. Til then he shall be called Lindir of Rhosgobel in my house. For Master Aiwendil had been a true father to him, if not by flesh, so certainly by heart; and this should be appreciated.''
/Can it be that Aiwendil actually blushed?/, wondered Celebrían, watching the slightly embarrassed face of the old man. /*Can* someone thus powerful feel like the rest of us? Shall we ever come to understand who - or *what* - the Istari truly are?/
''I am deeply in your debt for ever, Lord Elrond'', the wizard bowed slightly. ''You shall see that the boy is obedient and eager to learn; though he may have some problems with the Grey Tongue at first. He only learnt it after we had moved to Rhosgobel.''
''How have *you* spoken to him?'', Erestor asked a little surprised.
The wizard gave him an insulted look.
''Why, in Quenya, of course'', he said as if it were the most natural thing on Earth, regardless the fact that no-one spoke Quenya any more save in Valinor itself. ''What better than the Ancient Tongue to awake the music that dwelt in his heart?''
''Wait! Are you saying that Quenya is the mother tongue of the boy?'', Glorfindel asked in awe. He had not heard of such a thing since he returned to Middle-earth for the first time.
The wizard shrugged.
''Aye, it is. Though, truth to be told, Iarwain and his wife spoiled his tongue a little with very old words, unknown even in the Blessed Realm by now, but else he *does* speak... and think... and dream in Quenya.''
''Well... that is certainly unique'', Glorfindel stated. ''But he does understand Sindarin well enough to live among us, you say?''
Radagast nodded, pride clearly written in his elderly face.
''He does; as well as the Common speach. And he has the stunning ability to learn any song, or even a long lay, after having heard it only one time.''
''This sounds like a born minstrel to me'', said Glorfindel, with a glance towards Elrond. ''We have not had a true one here since you founded Imladris. 'Tis a great treasure Master Aiwendil had gifted upon us.''
''And I intend to protect it and handle it with great care'', Elrond answered. ''I was raised by one of the greatest singers of our kin (5), and though Elrohir does have a decent talent, he still cannot reach the height of Maglor's rare gift. Nor could I. Ever. But if this child is truly as gifted as Master Aiwendil says (not that I would doubt his word, but I know myself how parental pride can err on the behalf of a beloved child), then I finally might be able to gift the teachings of my foster father upon a worthy pupil.''
''Yet I think not that you would be the right one to keep an eye on all his studies'', said Celebrían. ''He has to learn the natural flow of daily life in our valley, and its lord would be a much too frightening tutor in that.''
''There are things a young child usually learns from his mother'', Elrond agreed, ''and I would be grateful for your assistance, my Lady.''
But Celebrían only shook her head with a smile.
''I am willing to take my share in the responsibility for this child, my Lord'', she answered kindly, ''for he no doubt shall need a confidant when feeling homesick or troubled or alone. But he will be an esquire, not a foster son, as you have decided. And as such, Erestor is the right person to tutor him.''
The young seneschal have her a troubled gaze.
''I, my Lady?''
''You, of course'', Celebrían nodded. ''Who knows the intricacies of daily life in the valley better than you? Who better to teach him the duties of a young esquire than someone who had performed them to the greatest satisfaction of his Lord for many years? Besides, you can understand his loss better than any of us, save the Lord of the Valley himself, for you went through the same pain in your youth.''
Erestor shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
''Still... I know not, my Lady, if I truly am the right one for this responsibility...''
''But *I do*'', Elrond interrupted. ''The Lady Celebrían is right. Our own children are much too young to care for him - or to earn his respect. Glorfindel and myself would most likely frighten him, should he have to deal with us every day. He is not used to have many people around him.''
''You, on the other hand, are old enough to have sufficient authority'', Glorfindel added with a thoughtful nod. ''The Lord of the Valley and I can teach him the deep secrets of ancient lore; but you can tutor him in the even more important little things that will make him able to live among us. Yes, I do believe the Lady Celebrían is right. You shall be the right choice for this not-so-easy task.''
* * * * * * * * * * * *
And so Erestor got a pupil. But what will Lindir say when they tell him about the decision? Next chapter will be up in a day or so.
End notes:
1. The sons of Elrond were born in the year 130 of the Third Age. Arwen was born in 241.
2. The Barrow-Downs as they were called later. Iarwain is Tom Bombadil, in case any of you shouldn't know.
3. According to the Unfinished Tales, it was Saruman who took Radagast with him as his aide - on a request of Yavanna.
4. To understand Elrodn's motivation you'll have to read ''A Little Might Be Thought'' by Deborah. It can be found on this site.
5. Maglor son of Fëanor, who raised Elrond and his brother Elros after having fought their parents for the Silmaril.
by Soledad Cartwright
Disclaimer:
The characters, the context and the main plot belong to Professor Tolkien, whom I greatly admire. I'm only trying to fill in the gaps he so graciously left for us, fanfic writers, to have some fun. Only Erestor's family belongs to me.
Rating: PG for this chapter.
Please read Warnings before the Prologue.
Dedication: to Deborah, with heartfelt thanks for Elrond's background.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Now, before any lore-masters get upset with me: I *do* know that according ''Morgoth's Ring'' Elves are supposed to reach their maturity at the age of 50. It just seems too unrealistic to me that people who would live millennia, would be considered as adults with a mere 50 years. *This* is a part of ''official'' lore that I simply chose to ignore, presuming that any self-respecting Elf would need at least a couple of centuries to learn the history and the vast knowledge of their Elders, and that with time passing by, this period of their life would become even longer, since there will be more and more stuff to learn.
So, for the sake of my stories I decided that while they *may* reach *physical* maturity in 100 years, to reach *legal* age would take at least two more centuries, depending on their education and the future position they will have to fill. Also, I chose a more adaptable system, where simple Mirkwood archers, for example, would reach their legal age at 200, being only in need to learn the old lays and some herbal lore, aside of archery practice, of course, while someone in Legolas' position would need a long and thorough education, that could last as long as 300-500 years, since he is supposed to become a King one day.
Also, we have no idea, exactly *when* the Istari came to Middle-earth. The Unfinished Tales only says they appeared first around the year 1000 in the Third Age. But since they had gone around in the disguise of Men for a long time, it's a distinct possibility that they might have come earlier... and that the Wise of the Eldar such as Elrond and Celeborn would have known them long before the Kings of Arnor or Gondor. The date of their arrival plays no significant role for this tale, but I needed Lindir to arrive in Imladris at a fairly young age (for an Elf), so I've removed the coming of the Istari to the beginning of the Third Age, maybe around Elladan and Elrohir's birth or just a little later (1).
CHAPTER TWO: THE FOUNDLING
In the upper library of Elrond's home - the one that stood open for any visitors - the Lord of the Valley was already waiting for the wizard, and with him sat Glorfindel, who had joined him, taking a shortcut and an other entrance. They both rose to greet the guest, as it is custom among Elves, even if they are from a House of Kings, and Elrond, too, spoke the traditional words of greeting in Quenya; then they all got seated again, even Erestor, as it was his right, due both to his office and his status as a foster son. The twin sons of the Lord and Lady, however, though they had reached maturity already, were not invited to this private council, so they left after the official greetings.
''Now, Master Aiwendil'', said Elrond, ''I understand that you have come to my home to make a request, am I right?''
''You are'', the wizard responded curtly, rejecting the wine proffered by Erestor with a shake of his head.
''You told me you have come to Imladris on behalf of the boy who has escorted you'', Celebrían took over. ''Who is he?''
''Oh, my good Lady'', the wizard sighed tremendously, ''that is a hard question to answer, indeed.''
Celebrían furrowed her smooth brow, seeing her suspicions affirmed. This seemed not good. Had the wizard truly sired the boy, the ramifications could be severe. The Lords of the West took not kindly when one of their subjects disobeyed orders.
''Is he yours?'', she asked straight out, making both her husband and his counsellors gasp over her boldness, for it was never wise to challenge one of the Istari.
But Radagast the Brown only shook his shaggy grey head. He did not seem offended at all by the uncharacteristically rude question. On the contrary - he almost seemed proud that they would think him to be the father of such a fair child.
''Nay, my Lady, though I would be happy to call him my own'', he said with a rueful smile, for he knew what he longed for was not allowed him. ''But the truth is, I know not myself who he is. I found him as a mere baby, some 200 years ago - or was it 300? I cannot remember. He was not older than two, perhaps three moons at that time, laying on the forest floor, wrapped only in a blanket.''
''Where did you find him?'', Celebrían asked.
''On the east side of the Ered Luin's southern range'', the wizard answered. ''I had just arrived to Middle-earth and left the Havens, on the search of a place to begin my labours, when I heard him calling out to the birds in the wordless speech of the little ones. I followed his sweet little voice and there he was, lying upon the fallen leaves from the last season, playing and laughing with the thrushes.''
''So he *is* an Elf'', Celebrían stated. The wizard nodded.
''He seems to be of Noldorin descent, though he might have some Telerin blood, too. For not only is his hair more silver than golden, he also has a gift in music, be it song or flute-play, more so than any Elf I have ever met, even beyond the Sea.''
''I wonder why he was left behind alone and by whom'', Elrond murmured, his heart going out for the poor youngling. To abandon a child was considered the greatest cruelty among Elves, and the memory of the small brothers of his mother who were left behind to die in the forest by the cruel sons of Fëanor was an echo of old pain in his family.
''Mayhap it did not happen by choice'', said Celebrían. ''Many of our kin keep travelling to Elostirion to look into the Seeing Stone and to sing hymns to the Valar in order to find their liking. His parents might have been assaulted an forced to hide their child in the forest. At that time the Blue Mountains were unguarded by the Kings of the North-kingdom, and many fell creatures still dwellt in the woods.''
''But if you saw that he was an Elf, why did you not bring him back to his own kin?'' Erestor asked the wizard. There was accusation in his tone, and Elrond glanced at his foster son with surprise. Erestor seldom lost his calm; the fate of the youngling must have awaken painful memories in his heart.
Radagast gave the young Elf a piercing look.
''To what end?'', he asked. ''He had no name, no family - that means no position among Elves. Who would have taken him into fostering care? The best he could have hoped for was to become a servant in some Elf Lord's household. Nay, I wanted to give him a better life.''
''And so you kept him'', Glorfindel said. ''But how did you succeed in raising him? Elven children of such tender age need special nourishment and very, very thorough care. Without a mother, or at least a female nurse, 'tis a wonder in itself that he survived.''
''Oh, but I had help'', the wizard smiled. ''I could not have done it by myself, for I knew naught about the nurturing of little elflings; not at that time, at least. I learnt much during those years, though.''
''That I can imagine'', the ancient Elf grinned. ''Where have you lived with him ere you moved to Rhosgobel?''
''On the best and safest place in Middle-earth'', Radagast answered, at once serious again. ''I brought him to Tyrn Gorthad(2), under Cardolan's hills by the Old Forest.''
The Lord and the Lady of the Valley, exchanged blank looks, and Erestor did not seem to understand the significance of this statement either, but Glorfindel smiled as if lingering on old, pleasant (and yet so sorrowful) memories.
''You brought him to Iarwain!'', he cried out in awe. ''To the homely house of the eldest and fatherless and his lovely wife, the River-daughter! The safest and most wonderful place in Middle-earth, indeed.''
''With other words, you abandoned him'', said Erestor with a slight, hostile hiss.
Celebrían shot him a warning glare that wuld have made both her grown sons cringle, but the wizard, fortunately, did not seem angry. He only shook his head.
''How could I have done such thing?'', he answered with a question of his own. ''He had captured my old heart at first sight. So very small he was, lying upon my arm, so trusting and innocent. Nay, I could never have left him. I wanted to see him grow up, to teach him and to protect him. But most of all I wanted him to keep his innocence in a way that no Elf had been able to keep since the Time of Awakening.''
''Then you truly brought him to the right place'', Glorfindel nodded, a smile full of hidden pain adorning his fair face. ''Have you stayed with him in Tyrn Gorthad?''
''For many long seasons'', Radagast grinned. ''I heard later that Curunír had been rather upset at times when he failed to find me.''
''That is an understatement'', murmured Elrond. ''According to Mithrandir he was fuming with wrath.''
''Curunír believes that his labours are the only ones of importance'', the wizard shrugged. ''Yet he knows less about the secrets of Arda than he fancies himself. He might know all about pretty toys made by the hands of Elves and Men, but he is not the one the trees and the birds talk to. Nor am I his servant, even if he thinks himself above of the rest of us.''
''Still'', Glorfindel remainded the wizard soberly,'' he *is* the head of your Order, and this gives him the right to interfere with your labours.''
''He already has'', Radagast sighed. ''I am ordered to meet him in the South, near the watchtower of Orthanc, for he has work for me. I have to leave today. I have already delayed my journey far too long.''
''In that case, you have chosen the ways around'', said Elrond a little surprised, ''in order to visit Imladris.''
''That I did'', the wizard nodded, ''for I wish to leave the boy here for an uncertain amount of time. I cannot take him with me; it might be dangerous for him. Besides, should Curunír learn that I had ignored his orders this long on the behalf of a mere child, he would take Lindir from me - if only to punish me for my disobedience.''(3)
''That might not even be his only reason'', Celebrían remarked with an uncharacteristically grim face - a sure sign that her maternal instincts signalled some sort of danger.
Elrond shot her a questioning look.
''What other reason could he possibly have?''
''You have not seen the boy yet, my love'', Celebrían sighed. ''He is of great beauty; such as I have rarely glimpsed in my whole life.''
''But my Lady, you cannot suppose the head of the Istari taking advantage of an under-aged elfling!'', Elrond murmured in utter bewilderment.
''Maybe not'', said Celebrían thoughtfully, ''but he is known to love things of beauty. He might take the boy as he would take an artfully crafted chalice: to possess his beauty and to adorn his halls with him. Nay, Master Aiwendil is right. Curunír must *not* see this child. He might be powerful and wise, but there is little love in his heart. His halls are not the right place for a young child.''
''But why did you not leave him with the Silvan folk?'', Glorfindel asked the wizard. ''Surely, Thranduil's realm would be more of his liking, having grown up in the forests.''
''He would not be safe with them'', said Radagast with a heavy sigh. ''He is much too fair for his own good. I saw how all watched him with hungry eyes, every time we visited Thranduil's court. And there are Men, too, living in the woods, and they are even worse. Besides'', he added quietly, ''should Curunír learn of the boy, the Wood-Elves could not protect him. Thranduil has no such power that could withstand the Istari. Only here does it dwell, or with Círdan in the Havens - or in Lórien.''
''And you chose *us* to keep him safe?'', Elrond asked. ''Why us? He would be safe on both of the other places, too.''
''Protection is not the only thing he needs'', Radagast answered. ''He needs to learn, too.''
Elrond frowned.
''Have you not taught him?''
''I taught him everything I could'', said the wizard, ''and he learnt even more while we dwelt under Iarwain's roof.. He learnt the music from the flowing and falling waters around Iarwain's house: from the soft waves of the river and from the splashing of rain on its surface. To sing he learnt from the winds and the birds and from the River-daughter herself. He knows the healing powers that are in the herbs and feels the changes of weather days before. He can talk to the trees like any Wood-Elf and tame wild beasts with a mere song. He is an easy child, quiet and pleasant-mannered - he would be no burden for you.''
''We doubt it not'', Celebrían said gently, seeing the grief of the old man over having to give away his precious child. ''Yet there is more, is there? Something that bothers you greatly, does it?''
''I meant no harm'', Radagast confessed sadly, ''yet I fear that in the folly of my old heart I *did* harm him. I wanted to keep him innocent, as innocent as his kin had been at the Time of Awakening ere Morgoth came, for I wanted to give your people back what they have lost - at least in this one child, to show them that there still *is* hope for all of you. Iarwain and the River-daughter certainly helped me to achieve *that*. But I only made him vulnerable. When we first ran into the Silvan folk near Rhosgobel, he fled up a tree like a squirrel. And I understood that I cannot separate him from his own people any longer, should he survive in Middle-earth.''
''So you want us to take him into fostering care and teach him all that he could not have learnt from you?'', Elrond asked.
''I beg you, my Lord'', the wizard said. ''No matter how the boy was brought up, he still *is* a Noldo; he belongs to a folk with a great history - and great skills that I cannot teach him, for I am a follower of Yavanna, not of Aulë. You would notice that he has a remarkable mind, worthy of learning from the greatest lore-master of this Age - not to mention Glorfindel whose memories reach back to the Dawn of Days.''
Elrond thought about the wizard's request for a while. The others waited patiently for his decision, for as in all things in Imladris, he had the last word in this matter as well.
''You can leave the youngling here, and I shall protect him as you have asked for, Master Aiwendil'', he finally said. ''We would also tutor him in all things necessary. I shall, however, *not* receive him as a foster son.''
Every one in the library was slightly bewildered by this decision.
''Why not?'', Celebrían asked with a frown. ''You did not hesitate to accept Erestor, if I have been told rightly.''
''True'', nodded Elrond, ''But Erestor knew who his parents were. By taking him into my home I did not severe his roots. He might have grown up as my fosterling, but he always has been and always will be the son of Hargil, the jewel-smith of Eregion. I never wanted him to deny his true ancestry and to think that he would belong to *my* House(4).
Nor can I take young Lindir the right to find his true kindred one day. Til then he shall be called Lindir of Rhosgobel in my house. For Master Aiwendil had been a true father to him, if not by flesh, so certainly by heart; and this should be appreciated.''
/Can it be that Aiwendil actually blushed?/, wondered Celebrían, watching the slightly embarrassed face of the old man. /*Can* someone thus powerful feel like the rest of us? Shall we ever come to understand who - or *what* - the Istari truly are?/
''I am deeply in your debt for ever, Lord Elrond'', the wizard bowed slightly. ''You shall see that the boy is obedient and eager to learn; though he may have some problems with the Grey Tongue at first. He only learnt it after we had moved to Rhosgobel.''
''How have *you* spoken to him?'', Erestor asked a little surprised.
The wizard gave him an insulted look.
''Why, in Quenya, of course'', he said as if it were the most natural thing on Earth, regardless the fact that no-one spoke Quenya any more save in Valinor itself. ''What better than the Ancient Tongue to awake the music that dwelt in his heart?''
''Wait! Are you saying that Quenya is the mother tongue of the boy?'', Glorfindel asked in awe. He had not heard of such a thing since he returned to Middle-earth for the first time.
The wizard shrugged.
''Aye, it is. Though, truth to be told, Iarwain and his wife spoiled his tongue a little with very old words, unknown even in the Blessed Realm by now, but else he *does* speak... and think... and dream in Quenya.''
''Well... that is certainly unique'', Glorfindel stated. ''But he does understand Sindarin well enough to live among us, you say?''
Radagast nodded, pride clearly written in his elderly face.
''He does; as well as the Common speach. And he has the stunning ability to learn any song, or even a long lay, after having heard it only one time.''
''This sounds like a born minstrel to me'', said Glorfindel, with a glance towards Elrond. ''We have not had a true one here since you founded Imladris. 'Tis a great treasure Master Aiwendil had gifted upon us.''
''And I intend to protect it and handle it with great care'', Elrond answered. ''I was raised by one of the greatest singers of our kin (5), and though Elrohir does have a decent talent, he still cannot reach the height of Maglor's rare gift. Nor could I. Ever. But if this child is truly as gifted as Master Aiwendil says (not that I would doubt his word, but I know myself how parental pride can err on the behalf of a beloved child), then I finally might be able to gift the teachings of my foster father upon a worthy pupil.''
''Yet I think not that you would be the right one to keep an eye on all his studies'', said Celebrían. ''He has to learn the natural flow of daily life in our valley, and its lord would be a much too frightening tutor in that.''
''There are things a young child usually learns from his mother'', Elrond agreed, ''and I would be grateful for your assistance, my Lady.''
But Celebrían only shook her head with a smile.
''I am willing to take my share in the responsibility for this child, my Lord'', she answered kindly, ''for he no doubt shall need a confidant when feeling homesick or troubled or alone. But he will be an esquire, not a foster son, as you have decided. And as such, Erestor is the right person to tutor him.''
The young seneschal have her a troubled gaze.
''I, my Lady?''
''You, of course'', Celebrían nodded. ''Who knows the intricacies of daily life in the valley better than you? Who better to teach him the duties of a young esquire than someone who had performed them to the greatest satisfaction of his Lord for many years? Besides, you can understand his loss better than any of us, save the Lord of the Valley himself, for you went through the same pain in your youth.''
Erestor shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
''Still... I know not, my Lady, if I truly am the right one for this responsibility...''
''But *I do*'', Elrond interrupted. ''The Lady Celebrían is right. Our own children are much too young to care for him - or to earn his respect. Glorfindel and myself would most likely frighten him, should he have to deal with us every day. He is not used to have many people around him.''
''You, on the other hand, are old enough to have sufficient authority'', Glorfindel added with a thoughtful nod. ''The Lord of the Valley and I can teach him the deep secrets of ancient lore; but you can tutor him in the even more important little things that will make him able to live among us. Yes, I do believe the Lady Celebrían is right. You shall be the right choice for this not-so-easy task.''
* * * * * * * * * * * *
And so Erestor got a pupil. But what will Lindir say when they tell him about the decision? Next chapter will be up in a day or so.
End notes:
1. The sons of Elrond were born in the year 130 of the Third Age. Arwen was born in 241.
2. The Barrow-Downs as they were called later. Iarwain is Tom Bombadil, in case any of you shouldn't know.
3. According to the Unfinished Tales, it was Saruman who took Radagast with him as his aide - on a request of Yavanna.
4. To understand Elrodn's motivation you'll have to read ''A Little Might Be Thought'' by Deborah. It can be found on this site.
5. Maglor son of Fëanor, who raised Elrond and his brother Elros after having fought their parents for the Silmaril.