A Tale Only Whispered

Sentences in italics are thoughts.

Chapter 9-Matters of the Heart,Hand and Mind

"Is it wise?" asked Elrond.

"I am not sure, Elrond, but you must remember what he has gone through," replied Glorfindel.

"But what I fear is the wrath of Denethor," said Elrond, frowning, "We have enough to contend with Orcs and Trolls and other foul creatures, than the armies of Gondar against us. I do agree that Fara-, Tylendal has had a very bad experience and -"

"Ada!"

"What is it Elladan?" asked Elrond as his eldest came bursting through the door.

"Tylendal!"

"What?" Elrond stood up and asked with surprising emergency. "Has he had a relapse or-?"

"No! Elrohir!" grinned Elladan.

"What??" by now the Lord Elrond, Master of Imladris was having an apoplexy. "Has something happened to Elrohir?"

"This is getting ridiculous," muttered Glorfindel, seeing the grin on Elladan's face and getting the idea that it, whatever it was, was not as serious as Elrond was thinking. "Elladan, are you pretending to be Elrohir? Or is anyone hurt?"

"No, of course not," replied Elladan annoyed, "All I'm saying is that Tylendal won the game of chess against Elrohir! Imagine that! Elrohir lost against a mere mortal!!" Elladan looked as the cat that had swallowed the canary.

Elrond's eyes narrowed. Elladan is in for it. Elrond is going to kill him, thought Glorfindel.

"You," said Elrond very slowly and very dangerously said, "You almost gave me a heart attack because of a stupid chess game?"

"Err…" stammered Elladan nervously, "I, err, well…"

"Hold," intervened Glorfindel, "how old is F-, Tylendal anyway?"

"Why?" snapped Elrond, still glaring at Elladan.

"Well, he must be terribly clever to have won against Elrohir," clarified Glorfindel.

"Oh, I don't know about nine to twelve, he is a bit small for his age," relented Elrond, finally tearing his gaze from Elladan.

"Fine, I have to go," muttered Elladan and practically fled out of the room.

"Well, while the children are playing, we must discuss about the defences, and Thran-" Glorfindel broke off. "Are you paying attention, Elrond?"

"Yes, I am. Please continue," said Elrond.

But Elrond was not. He was still wondering about the instinct that had made him rise in worry for Faramir. And it had not been a healer's instinct. It was the feeling of possessiveness he got when Elladan, Elrohir or Estel got hurt.


"I wasn't paying attention," protested Elrohir. "And I had no idea that you played so well," he said turning to Tylendal.

Tylendal blushed. "Well usually there's no one to play with…" Who would play with the Steward's son?

"Is it because you always win?" asked Legolas with a raised eyebrow.

"People don't like to lose, especially against a small boy," shrugged Tylendal.

"I certainly know one person who really does not like to lose," sniggered Elladan.

"How amazing, I know one such Elf too!" exclaimed Elrohir.

Elladan growled and finally lost his temper. He leapt up started chasing Elrohir around the room, while Tylendal watched in disbelief. He had expected Elves to act a bit more, well, Elf- like. Though Elladan's intention was not to hurt Elrohir but all done in good intent, it made it all the more ridiculous. Legolas saw his expression and smiled, "Don't worry, they're always like that. At home they pretend to kill each other but woe the person who wilfully harms one of them for the other is always there for revenge for harming their beloved brother."

In the meantime Elladan was pouring water down on Elrohir and tickling at the same time. Elrohir finally turned the tables on Elladan, tripping him, and starting to tickle him. The rest of them were watching this little comedy patiently with the easy familiarity of being through it many times.

Tylendals mind started to wander. For some reason his mind drifted to Minas Tirith. He remembered once how his father had delivered a blow to his head.


One year ago in Minas Tirith.

"What are you thinking of, brother?" asked Boromir.

"Nothing," replied Faramir.

"Yes, there is something on your mind," Faramir smiled, no one could read him like Boromir.

"How was sword practice?" Faramir changed subjects.

"It was great," said Boromir enthusiastically, "But I wouldn't fancy fighting Mablung without weapons, he's as large and strong as a bear! And he wants to become a ranger of Ithilien. With his size!"

"Size does not matter," protested Faramir.

Suddenly another of the boys' playmates came running to then. It was Anborn. Anborn was a few years older than Faramir. He now spoke, "Faramir I heard that your father is searching for you." Faramir tried to act casual but unavoidably grew pale.

"Are you alright?" asked Boromir in concern.

"Yes, just a slight headache," said Faramir reassuringly, "probably just reading too much."

"You just have to read so much…"

"There he goes again, behaving as a mother hen," teased Anborn and he and Faramir sniggered while Boromir glared at them both.

While Anborn and his brother kept up their friendly banter, Faramir sneaked away to meet his father.