Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.
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Jeren had gone with Elladan and Elrond, taking both children to the dining hall for their evening meal. Elrohir was already there, so they sat together, as they usually did. The Elf pulled out Andis' chair, to make it easier for the boy to be seated, but when Elrohir tried to take Andis' arm to help him up, the child jerked away from him. Elrohir then gave up on the idea, and Andis had seated himself. Jeren felt her husband's sadness through their bond, and she was silently mournful that Andis had not taken her earlier words to heart.
Elladan told them all about Elen and her failing health, and how he'd brought Charlie back to Imladris to give Elen and James a respite from the precocious child's care. No one mentioned Timm or his relationship to the children, not wanting to broach the subject in front of Andis, and definitely not until all the adults had had a chance to confer.
"So I put Elen to bed and told her to stay there. Of course doses of Valerian will persuade her as I never could." Everyone laughed, since they each knew Elen. Getting her to do something that was not her idea in the first place was almost always impossible. That Elladan had resorted to using calming herbs hadn't surprised anyone.
"Another child…" Elrohir mused. "Where are they going to put another one in that tiny cabin?"
Elrond smiled. "Humans are a very tenacious people. Where there is a will there is a way. Where there is need, an answer will be discovered."
"Perhaps they will add another room onto their present abode?" Glorfindel asked. "Or else build an entirely new house?"
"I caught James examining the premises with a speculative eye," Elladan said. "I think this very subject was on his mind."
Jeren stole a look at Andis from time to time during Elladan's explanation, but couldn't tell if the boy was listening to the talk or not. She hadn't thought he'd noticed Charlie at all, when Elladan had brought him into their rooms earlier. He'd been engrossed in the book they'd been sharing, and now he seemed lost in his own world, too, as he silently ate his food.
Directly after the meal was finished, Andis asked Elladan if he would like to go out to the stables to see Bunny. After his initial shock of being invited, of course Elladan couldn't decline the invitation from the still-grieving child. Before Elladan had left for the settlement, Andis had been cordial to him, but the child's attention had been solely for Elrohir. Not so, now. Elladan could feel his brother's regret through their bond; he could tell that the child's defection was hurting his twin deeply, but at the same time, he could feel the gentle urging that Elrohir was sending to him, as if his brother were asking him not to refuse the child's request. So he'd gathered up Jessa and the three of them had gone to the stables. The others had retired to Elrond's study, where they sat in the comfortable chairs by the fireplace.
"What do you propose to be done about the children, Father?" Elrohir asked. "This man Timm is here to take them back to the settlement. Isn't it too soon for Andis to leave?"
It was easy for all to hear the tension in the younger Elf's voice. Elrohir wasn't trying to mask the fact that the children's departure was not high on his list of priorities.
Elrond sat in one of the armchairs across from the sofa where Elrohir and Jeren were seated. Glorfindel was in the other chair beside Elrond, and he'd leaned forward when Elrohir had posed the question. Elrond opened his mouth to reply, but before he could even make a sound, Glorfindel spoke.
"He seems better to me, Elrohir. Sadder, that is true, but more rational and not so dependent on you."
Elrohir huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "I'll say he isn't dependent on me anymore."
"But that is good, is it not?" Glorfindel asked. "The sooner the children are placed with their aunt and uncle, the sooner the two of you can get back to the job you signed on for." The ancient Elf lord looked pointedly at both Jeren and Elrohir.
"Are you finding our absence that trying for you, Glor?" Elrohir asked, his face hard and his voice sharp with sarcasm.
"Elrohir!" The look that Elrond gave his son spoke volumes. He really didn't need to say anything else. Jeren squeezed her husband's hand in silent support.
"My apologies, Lord Glorfindel," Elrohir said in a falsely formal tone. "But I was asking my father for his opinion as the boy's healer." He paused before what he said next, although none could tell if it was because of the words he was considering saying, or because he wanted them to truly register on the one they were intended for. "I really wasn't asking for your opinion at all."
Elrond closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, as if wondering to himself how he'd been so blessed as to have such sharp-tongued sons. In the past, it had always been Elladan he'd had to call to task for speaking out of turn. "I'll not tolerate disrespect from you, Elrohir," the Elf lord said quietly, "neither toward me nor toward any of your elders."
Elrohir sighed and paused for a moment, looking properly chastised then. "I am sorry, Father. Truly, I am." As he spoke, he looked at each of the Elf lords in turn, making it known that he was sincere. "Now would you please answer my question?"
Elrond knew that Elrohir had been suffering ever since last night, when he'd found Andis poised above Jessa, about to use his sword on her. The boy had completely rejected Elrohir, and Elrond could tell that it was taking its toll on him, so he swallowed any other chastisements he might have had reason to make to his son.
"I wish to speak to Timm before making any decisions, Elrohir," Elrond said. "Elladan has told me that the man and his wife want both of the children, but they are agreeable to Andis staying here longer if I think that is what should be done." He looked at his son closely then. "Much will depend on Andis, and his reaction to his uncle, when he learns of him. Yet I don't think it would be the wisest thing to make any significant changes in the child's life at this point, such as uprooting him. He is so newly from the sessions where he remembered his father's slaughter. And he may yet do more acting out of dreams. That wouldn't do in a family with other children, and amongst those who, for the most part, would be unprepared for the experience."
"What does there being other children there have to do with anything, Elrond?" Glorfindel asked. "You do not think that Andis would attack any of them, surely?"
Elrond frowned. "Certainly not. But when a child is troubled, the last thing that would be good for him would be ridicule for being 'different'. Children can be mightily cruel to each other, Glorfindel."
"Alas, that is true of adults, too," he replied with a small smile and an ironic look in Elrohir's direction. Elrohir smiled at the gentle rebuke, happy that Glorfindel had not taken offense at his earlier outburst.
Everyone glanced up when the study door opened and Elladan came in carrying Jessa, with Andis walking beside them. Jessa was fussing, both of her fists jammed into her mouth as far as she could get them. She stopped chewing on them abruptly, when she'd accidentally bitten herself. Her face crumpled and she broke into heartbreaking sobs.
Elladan pulled her head against his shoulder. "Poor little sweetheart," he said. "Teething is the worst, is it not?" He began slightly rocking her in his arms, nestling her head against his face.
Elrohir and Jeren got up from their seats. "I think it's time that we get these children to bed," Jeren said. She stopped in front of Elladan, reaching out and running a hand over the baby's silken hair. "Good night, sweet girl," she said. Elladan leaned toward her somewhat, allowing Jeren to place a kiss on Jessa's moist brow, feverish from the teething she was enduring.
"I'll take good care of her," Elladan said, and Jeren could tell that he wasn't gloating this time. He loved the baby, and he could empathize with anyone else who did as well. Too soon Jessa would no longer be living in Imladris with them.
Jeren and Elrohir then took Andis back to their suite for the night. Elladan had gone to his room with Jessa in his arms, and Jeren couldn't believe the ache in her heart when she'd kissed the baby goodnight for the final time this evening and had watched him carry her away. She didn't want to dwell on just how difficult it would be, when she had to watch Timm ride away with the children, taking them to the settlement to live with his family there.
Shaking her head, Jeren dispelled the gloom that she could so easily have fallen into with such thoughts. She turned to look as Elrohir tried to help Andis change into his night shirt, but the boy was having none of it.
"Are you never going to forgive me, Andis?" Elrohir asked him solemnly.
The boy just turned away, pulling the nightshirt from the Elf's grasp and offering it to Jeren, so that she could help him with it. As soon as he was ready for sleeping, Jeren took him by the hand to get him into bed.
"Who's that?" Andis asked, pointing to where Charlie lay asleep. Elrohir and Jeren glanced at each other, mostly because Andis hadn't asked where Jessa had gone.
"That's Charlie," Elrohir said.
Acting as if he'd not even heard the Elf speak, he tugged on Jeren's hand until she crouched beside him. "Who is that?" he asked again, more quietly this time.
"As Elrohir told you, that is Charlie."
"Why's he here?" Andis' brows had drawn together, and Jeren thought she might be seeing the slightest bit of jealousy on Andis' face. It was now apparent that the boy hadn't been listening at all during their evening meal, when Elladan had explained Charlie's presence to everyone there.
"His mother—who happens to be my aunt—is sick, and she cannot care for him right now. He has three big brothers and a sister, but they are too busy to play with him. Elladan brought him here so that we could see after him." With her voice taking on a conspiratorial note, she added, "Will you help us?"
"How could I help?"
Jeren smiled, certain she was seeing a small bit of resentment toward the newcomer in Andis' eyes. She was fairly sure that Andis was worried—that this usurper may take his place in the household.
"You could be his friend, Andis," she said.
Jeren suddenly realized that Andis had probably never had a friend, just as she never had, when she was a child. His homestead had been in a fairly desolate place, with no other children for leagues around. Andis' only friend had been his Papa. His Sissy had been much older than he was—and a girl, besides—and Jessa was only a baby—and also of the female persuasion. This would be a wonderful opportunity for Andis to experience friendship with someone of his own age. If he only decided to cooperate.
Andis looked at Jeren, his eyes skeptical. He didn't commit to helping, one way or another, but he did climb into his bed, the one next to Charlie's.
Jeren tucked him in. "Good night, Andis."
"G'night." The boy then looked at Elrohir longingly for a few seconds, but both Jeren and Elrohir could see as he made up his mind to be angry still, effectively closing him off from the Elf again. He turned his back to them, and they heard nothing else from him for the rest of the night.
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"Come in," Elrond said, as he opened his study door wider to admit the man standing there. Timm walked across the threshold, and the Elf lord directed him to one of the chairs in front of his desk. The early morning sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon, throwing yellow shafts of light across the room.
As soon as Timm and Elrond were both seated, Elrond said, "Welcome to Rivendell. I trust the accommodations in the barracks were comfortable?"
"Indeed," Timm replied. Then getting right to the point, Timm asked, "When would it be possible for me to see my brother's children, Sir?"
"Please, no formality," the Elf said. "And you may see them whenever you wish, but I would suggest that it might be a little early now; probably as soon as they have been fed their morning meal would be a good time. Especially for Andis. He needs all the nourishment he can get."
"Is he still poorly?" Timm asked in concern.
"Not physically," Elrond said. "But I believe a healthy diet keeps one's mind functioning in a prime fashion, just as it does one's body."
"Indeed," Timm repeated.
"How much did Elladan tell you about Andis?" Elrond asked, leaning back in his chair.
"He told me that the boy saw my brother cut down by Orcs. That he was actually sprayed with Anders' blood; watched his head roll." A shudder worked its way through Timm's body, at the distressing thoughts of his sibling's death. "That would be enough to unhinge the mind of a grown man, much less that of a boy as small as Andis is."
"That is true," Elrond said. "Yet Andis seems to be doing remarkably well now."
"Elladan mentioned that you healed minds," Timm said solemnly, as if the idea of such a thing might leave him unsettled. "I take it that since you say the boy seems better, that you've—seen to him?"
Elrond nodded. "Yes, "I've 'seen' to him a couple of times, and he has made some improvement. But I fear he still has a way to go before he's as well as he could be."
"What about his attachment to your other son—Elrohir, is it? What sort of trouble would it stir in Andis' mind, should I take him away now, when he seems so dependent on him?"
"We had an incident here the other night," Elrond began, rising from his chair. He walked to the window behind his desk. Turning to face the man, he continued, "Andis has begun to act out dreams involving the Orc attack." He explained about the sessions he'd had with Andis and everything that the boy had revealed, as well as everything about the incident where Elrohir found Andis standing over Jessa with the toy sword. And how now, as a result, Andis was no longer attached to Elrohir at all.
"So it wouldn't matter if I were to take Andis and Jessa both back to the settlement with me?" Timm asked hopefully. It seemed as if the man was eager to get the situation under control and have the family settled together as soon as possible. Elrond thought that was completely understandable, but probably very shortsighted.
"I didn't say that," Elrond admitted. "Andis still has much anger toward his sister, and, justified or not, he holds her ultimately responsible for their father's death. As I hinted at before, but will say plainly now, I think he still needs his mind delved into, and since I know of no one else able to do that, other than me, I believe he would benefit from staying here a while longer."
"So you are advising me against taking the boy now?" Timm asked tentatively. "I truly only want to do what is best for all concerned, Lord Elrond. But I do feel the need to get this done as quickly as possible, so that all of us—but especially Andis and Jessa—can settle in. They need a feel for normal living back in their lives. But I will heed your advice, whatever it might be."
He glanced at Elrond tentatively after saying that. He didn't want to insult the Elf lord, but surely Lord Elrond knew that the Dúnedain lived in a vastly different manner than the Elves here in Rivendell did. Their lives were simple, without the richness that the Elves seemed to take for granted.
"I believe it would be best for you to take Jessa now, painful though it will be for us here to see her go," Elrond replied. "As you say, our lives are vastly different, and it would be better for her to settle with your family while she is still young and pliable. And she needs to be safe, and I am hesitant to say that that is possible here, with Andis acting out dreams right now."
"Has he done it again?" Timm asked.
"Not as of yet," Elrond said, "but the probability is very high that he will."
"What about Charlie, then?" Timm asked, concerned. "Should we perhaps take him back with us, too? This development hadn't occurred when Elladan made these arrangements with Elen and James."
"I think there is no danger to him from Andis, Timm," Elrond said. "The mind is a very curious thing, and even asleep, I believe Andis would be able to tell the difference between the two children. Even if not, Elrohir keeps both eyes open during the night, and he will be alert for any trouble that might brew."
Timm looked doubtfully at Elrond then, but didn't reply to that. He seemed to gather his thoughts again, before he said, "Then it is settled. I will take Jessa back with me as soon as Halbarad has finished his business with Glorfindel. That would meet with your approval?"
"Yes," Elrond said solemnly.
"I don't know if you can tell me with much accuracy, but what about the boy?" Timm asked. "How much time do you think to need, to... straighten his thinking, for lack of a better phrasing?"
"Give me a month," Elrond replied. "That should be plenty of time for me to try and repair what is amiss in the child's mind."
With that Timm got up from his chair, and bowing, excused himself, walking out the door and closing it quietly behind him.
Elrond turned back to the window he stood before, and looked out at the expanse of the valley. On very clear days, such as this one was shaping up to be, an Elf could see the Bruinen, if he knew exactly where to look. The sun was fully above the eastern cliffs now, and Elrond thought of the beauty of his surroundings. It had always been thus, and probably ever would be. He closed his eyes, feeling the rays of the sun caress his face, and his thoughts wandered back to the two children, whose lives had unexpectedly fallen into his hands. He felt that he'd done the right thing, but he couldn't help the soreness in his heart from having made this decision. He knew it would be best for Andis to stay. But he also knew that Jessa's absence would cut a wound here in Imladris, deeply felt by many.
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"I need the pot, Elladan," Charlie whispered into Elrohir's ear urgently, apparently unaware of his mistake in identities. Of course Elrohir had known that the child was stirring, and he'd quickly closed his eyes at Charlie's approach. He'd wanted to see how the boy would react to waking up in a strange environment. He hadn't really known what Charlie would do; pretend to sleep until someone else was awake, cry from fear—although he'd doubted that completely—or perhaps leave the room altogether? But before Elrohir could move at all to help Charlie, Jeren pushed herself up on one elbow, her hair disheveled and her face imprinted with wrinkles from the bed linen.
"Charlie!"— "Jeren!" they said together.
Instead of going around the bed, Charlie heaved himself up onto the mattress, climbing over Elrohir—placing a boney knee directly into the Elf's gut, causing him to grunt in a very un-elf-like fashion. The child fell into Jeren's arms, and they hugged each other tightly.
"I didn' know you'd be here!" Charlie said loudly, as he sat down in the bed between Jeren and Elrohir.
"Well here I am!" Jeren replied. "I'm so happy to see you!"
Suddenly remembering why he'd wandered over to the bed in the first place, Charlie grabbed his crotch and whispered, "I need the pot, Cousin…"
So Jeren whisked him up out of the bed, groaning with the effort. Charlie was much heavier than Andis was—must have been his added height. She took him into the bathing room, leaving Elrohir laughing in their wake.
Andis sat up then, rubbing his eyes. It was a little earlier than they usually rose, so he was still pretty sleepy. He looked at Elrohir for several seconds, and then lay back down, staring at the ceiling.
Elrohir got up and dressed himself for the day, wondering what Andis was thinking about. Did he resent Charlie's presence? Or was he simply curious about this new boy that was visiting here?
He then stood and stared at Andis lying in his bed, but as soon as Andis had become aware of the Elf's attention, he'd closed his eyes again. Elrohir heaved a deep sigh and walked over to Andis' bed, sitting on the side of it.
"Andis…" He said softly. "I know you're awake."
The boy didn't move, nor did he open his eyes. Elrohir wouldn't be daunted this time, however.
"Andis…"
He still got no response. He then uttered a phrase in Elvish, and he watched as the child frowned—still keeping his eyes closed—apparently wondering just what Elrohir had said.
"I have no other ways to apologize," Elrohir added. "I do know Rohirric and Dwarvish and Quenya—that's another Elven language—but I doubt you could understand any of them either. I just want you to know that I am deeply sorry for everything. For yelling at you; for breaking your Papa's sword. That was inexcusable, and I am profoundly sorry for doing it. It was accidental, though that does not excuse my mistake. I have taken the pieces to an Elf named Calanon. He works extensively with wood, and he told me he was confident that he could fix it. It will never be perfect again, but it will be close."
Andis awarded Elrohir with opening his eyes. "You hollered at me," he said sternly, his brows drawn together in an angry frown.
"I was afraid that something bad was going to happen to you or your sister, and the first thing I thought of to say was exactly the wrong thing. I am sorry I 'hollered'. Will you forgive me?"
Andis looked long at the Elf, but then his face softened just the smallest bit. "I'll think about it, but I don't know..."
"That is all I can ask, Andis. I miss being with you and being your friend."
Andis nodded, but then Jeren and Charlie came out of the bathing room. Jeren found the pack that Elladan had left for the boy the night before and rummaged through it looking for something for Charlie to wear.
"I should have taken these clothes out of here last night," she said, berating herself for the sloppiness that Charlie's clothes would now exhibit. "Mayhap I should take them downstairs and have Juliel press them." She held up the badly wrinkled leggings and shirts.
"Aw, that's all right!" Charlie said brightly, snatching for the leggings that Jeren held high, just out of his reach. "My Mama don't—I mean doesn't—care if I get wrinkles."
Somehow Jeren doubted that, but it was almost time for morning meal, so she helped Charlie dress in the least offensive set of clothing he had. The rest she bundled up, to take with them when they went downstairs to the dining hall. Elrohir had found some clothes for Andis, but hadn't tried to help him with them, probably not wanting to press their freshly made semi-truce. So Jeren helped Andis get started putting his clothes on. When he was almost ready, she then gathered her things and went back into the bathing chamber to dress.
Charlie smiled impishly at Elrohir for a moment, and Elrohir crouched down beside him.
"I thought you were Elladan," Charlie admitted, grinning wider.
"I know," Elrohir said, tickling him slightly before hugging the boy to his chest.
Elrohir then stood, taking Charlie by the hand and leading him over to where Andis was standing. "Charlie, this is Andis. Andis, Charlie."
The two boys sized each other up for a few seconds, and then Charlie's smile beamed. "I'm taller than you!" he said proudly, holding his hand flat, palm down, near his forehead and measuring Andis' deficit. Amongst his brothers, Charlie was indeed the shortest, so this seemed a very gratifying moment for him.
Andis was less than thrilled with this new boy and his pronouncement, and the look he gave Elrohir spoke of his doubt. The Elf could tell that Andis wasn't entirely sure what the other boy was even doing here, or what it proclaimed for Andis' status in the Last Homely House.
Jeren emerged from the bathing room then, and the four of them went downstairs to the dining hall. Elrohir and the boys waited outside the laundry as Jeren made the short side trip, delivering the remainder of Charlie's clothing for pressing.
As everyone settled at the table to break their fasts, Elrond waited for Elladan to arrive, so that he could introduce him to Charlie. They'd agreed beforehand to make the introduction as formal as possible, even though they were sitting down to a meal, and Elrond was waiting to play his role.
Elladan met Jeren and Elrohir, along with the boys, at the doorway, and as soon as he'd handed Jessa off to Jeren, he took Charlie by the hand, and brought him to stand beside Elrond. He made a show of straightening the boy's shirt and slicking down the wayward cowlick on the back of his head. As soon as Charlie was ready, Elladan began the introduction.
"Charlie," he said, "I introduce you to The Lord Elrond, master of all who reside in Rivendell. He is the one who makes all decisions, as well as calls down any punishments on the simple and the mighty as well."
Elrond had to consciously keep himself from smiling. He wanted to roll his eyes at his son's antics, but decided that occasionally being lighthearted was a virtue in this day and time.
"Welcome to Rivendell, Charlie," Elrond said in his most formal tone. "I hope you slept well?"
Without missing a beat, the boy smiled and said, "Hello, my lord! Pleasant day, ain't—I mean isn't—it?"
Elrond couldn't help the barely stifled laughter, when Charlie had not been the least bit daunted by Elladan's show. This child was his mother made over. Confident and boisterous defined them both.
"Why do you not go be seated next to Andis, Charlie?" Elrond said. The boy fairly bounced over to the chair and sat down. But instead of just forging on with eating, it looked as if he'd remembered some of his mother's advice about minding elders, since he looked around to make sure others were starting their meal before he picked up his fork.
After only a few minutes had gone by, the talk at the table turned to the warriors of the Imladris force using a different wood in a few of their bows. Ebony was a very hard wood, but if kept oiled, seemed to make a fine bow. Not everyone liked it, because it required getting used to. It took extensive effort to bend the extremely hard wood as the bow was drawn, but the end result was worth it—arrows flew faster and more powerfully, and even slightly straighter. Elladan, Jeren and Elrohir were deep in the discussion with Glorfindel, and Elrond was listening attentively.
While the adults were thusly occupied, Charlie poked Andis in the ribs with his elbow, trying to get the other boy's attention, but Andis' brows drew together.
"Why'd you hit me?" Andis whispered, knowing enough that he shouldn't call this boy out, when it might get Charlie into trouble. He was a lot bigger, so Andis didn't want to make him angry.
Charlie looked around the table, making sure the adults were still distracted with their conversation. Then with his fork he prodded at something he found on his plate. "What is this?" he asked Andis quietly.
Andis remembered being confused by this slice of meat also, when he'd first come to Imladris. He'd actually refused to eat it, until someone had asked him if he didn't like sausage. Of course he liked sausage! Everyone did! But he'd never had sausage shaped like that before. He'd always had links cut up into small pieces, but what he'd encountered was a much wider round disk of meat. The Elves had explained, as much as they could to a young boy, how the sausage was made using intestine from large deer rather than swine. It had helped that Andis had seen his father and mother do this at their homestead, when they'd slaughtered a pig.
"It's sausage," Andis whispered back.
"You fib!" Charlie said in a hiss, mimicking his older brothers. "It can't be sausage! It's the wrong shape."
"Just taste it," Andis insisted. "You will see."
Charlie stabbed the slice of sausage and brought it up to his mouth, taking a small nibble. His eyes lit up then, as he realized that Andis had not been jesting; not like his brothers would have done.
Charlie looked at Andis, his smile widening even further. "Thanks, Andi," he said.
"I'm Andis," the boy corrected almost angrily, but his expression changed after a moment, as if he'd remembered something important. He smiled tentatively and added, "But I guess you can call me Andi."
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All the talk about bows during the morning meal had Jeren thinking about her lagging warrior's skills. She had been so engrossed in caring for the children that she'd hardly even thought about her weapons at all. Her mind had been on teething and Andis' nightmares, not on sword fighting or archery. After everything she'd been through with her injury almost a year ago, trying so hard to get her arm and hand to work, she was again afraid she could not even wield a sword anymore. It had literally been a couple of months since she'd even thought about her weapons. So as they moved away from the table, she placed her hand on her husband's arm and said, "Spar with me, Elrohir."
"I would, Jeren," he said, "but I have some correspondence I must see to. You know how much l love returning missives—" He'd said that with so much sarcasm on his face that Jeren had to smile. "—I'd much rather be sparring with you. Perhaps this afternoon?"
Glorfindel had been walking behind them, and just as Jeren was about to voice her disappointment, he said, "Meet me in the training yard in a quarter hour." That's all he said, and then he strode away without a backward glance or another word.
Glorfindel... Oh no…
She knew he would give no quarter. She was now a member of the Imladris force—a scout—and her skills were supposed to be of the highest precision without question at any given time. As she thought about this, she could feel her tension mount, but just as quickly she tamped it down. None of that mattered. She would receive bumps and bruises and strains trying to keep the Elf lord from embarrassing her too badly, but she would be wielding a weapon!
She looked entreatingly at Elladan and he smiled and said, "I will look after this brood of children. We may even come watch."
"Thanks, Brother," she said excitedly. She hadn't known just how much she'd missed acting as a warrior should, with a weapon almost always close at hand. She dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
She made it to her room in mere seconds, and she threw open her wardrobe, removing a set of her training clothes. She stripped off the things she'd been wearing and started to put the other ones on. As she worked at the ties on the leggings, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were drawn to her right arm, where an Orc had nearly taken it off. The thin, red scar ran almost the entire circumference of her limb, and as she looked at it in the mirror, her fingers traced the slightly raised line.
She had almost forgotten, but now she remembered… Her fear that she would be a burden on Elen's family; that she would never be able to wield her weapons again. That no one would love her enough to make allowances for her affliction.
But Elrohir had… Elrohir loved her. And he'd saved her. Again…
It had always been Elrohir…
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"Tighten your stance!" Glorfindel roared. "Keep your arm up!"
Jeren was sweating and dirty from sparring with the Arms Master, and barely able to catch her breath, but she wasn't about to give in. She'd been through these sorts of drills hundreds of times, she just lamented that she was still in need of such discipline at her age and level of experience. After almost an hour of sparring, she'd found herself in the dirt more times than she'd hoped, but as the bout had gone on, she realized her skills were improving. She could tell that her bad arm would be swollen and painful tonight, but there was nothing for it. She was a warrior once more.
She wondered how this could be—wanting to be sharp at her weapons again and at the same time lamenting the impending loss of the children. The two thoughts were very conflicting. She had been so consumed with their care, that the idea of losing Andis and Jessa was always in the back of her mind. Glorfindel had been right earlier. She hadn't been giving her commitment to the Imladris force the attention it deserved. She'd given an oath, after all. And now she was torn, knowing that Timm was here to take the children back with him, and also feeling the surge of elation at having the sword in her grip. Fighting and using her skills—although rusty—was causing her spirit to soar, as it hadn't in what seemed a very long while.
Not since the children had been found, and she'd become lost in her love for them…
There would be much to ponder…
And with that thought, she got a mighty whack from the flat of Glorfindel's sword across the side of her right hip. She gasped and looked up, luckily finding that the Arms Master was allowing her to regroup. She gathered herself, trying to ignore the sting of the blow, and began sparring again with her entire focus on Glorfindel.
Just as she thought she might die from all the exertion, Glorfindel called a halt to the bout.
"You are sloppy and undisciplined! A disgrace to your oath."
"Yes, Arms Master," she gasped out, hoping that wasn't all that he had to say.
"With a little more work, you might pass as a warrior for the Imladris force again."
Jeren tried not to smile, but wasn't successful. "Yes, Arms Master."
"Again; now," he said, as he readied his stance.
Jeren wanted to weep. She was no Elf, with seemingly limitless energy. But she would do this and endure, even if she failed to meet Glorfindel's expectations in the end. She'd always wanted to be a warrior, and she could not let the dream go now, especially not when the children's departure was imminent. She was afraid their leaving would cleave a ragged hole in her heart that nothing could fill, but if she had her weapons and the oath to the Imladris force—perhaps she could weather the worst of the storm.
She readied her stance and withstood Glorfindel's first mighty blow, parrying and feinting when she could. When she found herself backed up almost to the fence, she gathered what gumption she had left and went on the attack, having literally nothing else to lose. She hacked and clanked her blade against the Arms Master's. At first she thought she was going to have to give up and die right there on the spot, because her energy was failing her, but at just the last moment, Glorfindel backed up one small step.
"You can take 'im, Cousin!"
Jeren felt rather than saw the momentary hesitation in the Arms Master's fight, when they both heard the childish voice calling out his support. She didn't know when Elladan had brought the children to the training yard, but it was apparent that they now had an audience.
As if to prove the child wrong, Glorfindel then stepped up his assault, and Jeren found herself back against the fence. She was trying to stay focused, but she could hear Charlie's plaintive, "Let me go! He's going to hurt her!" as he struggled to get out of Elladan's grip.
Glorfindel then called another halt, and she could see as he turned away that he was trying to keep a smile from breaking out on his lips. After only a few seconds, he turned back, bowing his head to her then, and saying, "We will continue tomorrow. At the same time."
His attention then went to the children behind the fence, where Elladan was now relaxing his hold on Charlie. "You," Glorfindel said, pointing his long sword at the boy. "Come here." And then he pointed the sword downward so that its tip rested right in front of his feet.
Jeren kept her face without expression, not knowing exactly what Glorfindel was going to say or do next. She was hoping that the Arms Master would not be too harsh with her little cousin, but she knew that discipline came at many times in one's life, in many different forms. The other two children stood where they were, Andis peering between the two top fence rails, and Jessa's bright eyes looking between the two bottom ones.
Elladan lifted the boy over the fence, setting him on his feet in the dirt inside. Not seeming worried at all, Charlie walked directly to where Glorfindel had indicated, stopping right in front of the Elf lord. Glorfindel gazed down on the child, looking as though he might stir some intimidation in the lad. But after only a few moments, the Arms Master said, "Would you like to learn the sword, young man?"
"Ye—"
"No speaking until I have given you leave to do so."
Charlie stood silent, his eyes alight with happiness over the prospect of doing something he'd never been allowed to do before. Finally, Glorfindel said, "You may speak."
"Yes, my lord!" he said excitedly. "When—"
"You are to direct no questions at me, young man," Glorfindel said. "I ask the questions. Do you understand?"
Charlie didn't say another word; he just nodded his head, trying his best to contain his enthusiasm. Glorfindel turned him around then, ushering him back toward the fence.
As soon as he'd handed Charlie back over to Elladan, Glorfindel asked, "How about you, Andis?" His voice had sounded just the slightest bit less stern. "Would you like to learn the sword as well?"
Andis didn't say a word, but his eyes were gleaming with excitement, and he was almost trembling trying to keep himself still. After just a few seconds, Glorfindel said, "I give you permission to speak."
"Yes, Arms Mas-ter," Andis answered, then he looked up at Jeren, about as pleased as she'd ever seen him. Jeren laughed, proud that he'd been watching and listening and learning; he'd followed the rules without even being told.
"Tomorrow we begin," he told the boys. "You will report here with Jeren after morning meal, and you will start learning the exercises that are needed in order to complete all the movements used in swordplay." Both children nodded solemnly, but didn't utter a sound. "Dismissed," the Elf lord finished. He went into the Armory then, and Charlie began to jump up and down with excitement.
"Jeren! Jeren!" Charlie cried, as he grabbed her hand, all the while continuing to bounce. "Did you hear?" He stopped his jumping, and in a voice filled with awe he said, "That big, scary Elf is gonna teach us the sword!" His voice was full of amazement at the wonderful turn of events, and it made Jeren want to laugh. She heard Elladan stifle a snort, but they both restrained themselves from laughing outright. The boys had to be proud to have the legendary Glorfindel even give them the time of day, much less promise to teach them something.
"I did hear him, Charlie," she answered enthusiastically. "What do you think about it, Andis?"
"I've been wantin' to learn to fight with a big knife," Andis said. "One day I'm gonna learn some Orcs not to kill people at all!"
"It's a sword," Charlie said emphatically, and quite a bit haughtily, "not a big knife, silly." He'd been too long tormented by his older siblings, and it seemed he'd learned the craft well from them. He was apparently more interested in being precise than in what Andis had really been saying.
"Whatever you call it," Andis replied, "that's what I wanna do."
"And it sounds as if you are going to do just that," Elladan said, as he picked Jessa up, and with Jeren and the children, began walking back toward the house.
Jeren had almost forgotten just how tired she was, but as her breathing eased and the sweat dried, it all came rushing back. Her shoulders ached, but mostly it was her arm that was sore. She had half a notion to ask Elrohir to take her back to that Valar-forsaken ice-cold pond that he'd dumped her into several months ago, when she'd overexerted her arm then, and give it a nice long soak this afternoon. At the very least, she knew that Elrond would place a nice, cool poultice on it before she retired for the night.
As they drew closer to the house, they saw Elrohir walking toward them along with someone else. Jeren hadn't met Timm yet, but Elladan looked as if he recognized the man right away. Andis stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping open, and then he began to run toward the two. Jeren thought it was because he must've finally forgiven Elrohir, but the boy didn't run to the Elf—he ran straight into the arms of the man.
Timm had gone to one knee, not really knowing what to make of this child, who was hugging him fiercely, when they'd never even set eyes on each other before. Suddenly Andis stood up straight, and his smile was ecstatic, but as he continued to look into Timm's face, the sparkle in his eyes faded and he backed up a few steps.
"You're not my Papa," Andis said, frowning. "I thought you were my Papa." His voice sounded as if he were about to be ill. "I thought that somehow… That he wasn't dead. Maybe someone had been able to put his head back on his neck." The boy sniffed, unable to stop the tears that were now coursing down his cheeks, although he was wiping at them with his fists. "You even sound as he did. But you're not him. You're not…" By the time the child had finished speaking, he was standing there crying as silently as he could, shaking his head in disbelief.
Elrohir picked Andis up then, holding him close, but at the same time, trying not to make much of the boy's mistake.
And Andis did not fight him at all. He clung to Elrohir as if his very life depended on it.
"It's all right, Andis," Elrohir said softly. "No, your Papa's not alive. No one was able to save him. This is your uncle—your father's brother. You remember the portrait we showed you? He is the man in that picture."
Andis nodded his head, but he didn't lift it from Elrohir's shoulder at first. Timm came closer, standing at Elrohir's side, so that he could perhaps see the boy's face.
"I'm your Uncle Timm, child," he said. "You are my nephew. It is pleased I am to meet you…"
Andis raised his head then, looking at the man. "You look an awful lot like my Papa did…"
"I know, child," he said with a small smile. "Lots of people thought so. And both Anders and I looked like our Papa did, too." Tentatively, Timm held his arms open to the boy.
Andis looked at Elrohir for a moment, his eyes sad, but, as if making up his mind about something he truly didn't understand, he leaned toward Timm, accepting his embrace.
Timm nodded to Elrohir and turned back toward the house, holding his nephew with the boy's head resting against his shoulder. He walked slowly and spoke to Andis in a quiet voice. Every now and again, those standing there watching, could see the boy nod his blond head.
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A/N: Thanks again for any and all reviews. They really help me keep going, and Lord knows, this story keeps going and going! I never expected it to be 20 chapters long, much less 35 and more! Special thanks to Sadie, for helping me work out a few kinks in this chapter. Your help is always valuable and appreciated.