A/N: chapter three! Thanks again to everyone who has continued to follow this story. It really means a lot. This is just a bit of a break for our beloved characters, with a guest appearance by world politics(tm) and a very furious Elrond. Enjoy!

03

Respite

As Lord Elrond reached for her hand to help her out of the chair, the floor pitched as Beetle's head, for a second, felt like it would float off her shoulders. She took a deep breath to quell her dizziness and followed him out of the surgery.

She had hoped that he would let her return to Little Worm, but to her disappointment, he deposited her with Master Lindir and stormed down the hall. Beetle hovered, her free hand clenched in a fist.

"You are in sore need of a bath," Master Lindir announced, and glided down the hall in the opposite direction Lord Elrond had gone. Beetle blushed and hurried to catch up.

He made no effort to talk to her, which suited Beetle just fine. Instead he led her up a winding set of stairs and then to a white door. That only led to another peaked hall paved with smooth marble. Beetle tried very hard to memorize everything. She wanted to be able to find her way back to Little Worm, but Rivendell was as maze-like and huge as the woods they'd ridden through to get here.

After a minute or two of walking, Master Linder took a left-hand corridor and opened a door into a cavernous room not unlike the one the thanes had bathed in the night before. It stood empty. The air here was warm and humid and smelled of sulfur. The bath was smaller, the size more comparable to a cistern than a pool, and was tucked behind a wooden screen made of swan-shaped lattices- which left Beetle a little overwhelmed. Even the most ordinary things were so intricately crafted.

Master Lindir found her some towels, soap, a comb, a brown bottle which looked to house a liquid, and promised to return in a little under an hour with some clothes. He shut the door on his way out.

Beetle was alone.

Her legs dissolved. She sank to the ground and hugged her knees up to her chest as a giant sob sliced right through her. She felt so many different emotions warring in her stomach that she could barely name them: relief that Little Worm lived, choking anxiety about who looked after him now and whether or not he would heal, a dizzying rush of lightness that came from knowing she and Little Worm would not return to King Frumgar's halls to disgrace and death, but uncertainty and cold dread surrounding Rivendell. This was to be her home. She was bound to it, and it was all so large and so confusing and so foreign. She had no idea what to expect, nor did she know what anyone expected of her.

And there was the matter of Lord Elrond himself. Now that she was alone, the fear stewing in the pit of her stomach finally brimmed over into tears. She couldn't even describe what it was that frightened her. Objectively, he had been nothing but kind, but her mind kept replaying that moment when Little Worm had lay motionless on the table and Lord Elrond had bent over him: how the room had seemed to spiral and tighten, how the ring on his hand had glowed gold, how he unveiled himself as a being so ancient and so great and so terrible that her mind couldn't make it make sense.

A healer who could call the dying back from the abyss… he could do anything to Beetle. Anything to Little Worm. In King Frumgar's hall at least if the injuries were unbearable, you could hope that death would soon follow. With Lord Elrond there would never be relief. She imagined that the severity of his punishments must at least be a direct inverse of his ability to heal them.

He had taken her into his surgery and again he had been kind, but it had taken every last ounce of will Beetle had not to shake as he took hold of her, to answer his questions promptly, to keep from flinching at his touch. He stood taller than any man Beetle had ever known, and it would have been nothing for him to flip her on her back and pin her to the floor.

She was still trembling. She couldn't seem to stop. Her head still felt so light and she was crying herself into a headache.

You must stop. Stop crying. Master Lindir will return and you must be clean.

Beetle sucked in great, shuddering breaths until finally she could push herself up off the floor and shed her clothes. She came to the edge of the bath and sat, dangling her feet into the green water. It was so warm! The kind of warmth that seemed to grip her aching legs and squeeze. Beetle had never even come close to such a bath. The thralls had swam and washed in the rivers when the weather allowed, but there had never been anything hot to wash with.

She wanted to sink into it whole, but she didn't dare risk ruining the bandages Lord Elrond had given her, and he had told her not to use her arm.

She spent the next few minutes lathering up and scrubbing until her skin burned. The soap here wasn't oily and mushy the way it was back at King Frumgar's halls. It was solid, shaped into little leaves, and lathered up into a thick foam that smelled of juniper and mint.

With a task to focus on, Beetle was able to push everything else out of her mind. She scrubbed every inch, sloughing off layers of travel grime and sweat until, to her embarrassment, the water in the bath turned from mineral green to a murky gray.

Then there was the matter of her hair. She unrolled it and decided to lay on the edge of the bath and let it fall into the water. It wasn't easy to scrub through it with one hand, and it was so tangled that it was difficult to work the soap through and thoroughly rinse it out, but she did her best to get it as clean as she could, washing until it squeaked.

To her surprise, the bandages Lord Elrond had put around her wrists weren't wet, not even from washing her hair. They somehow repelled the water, the droplets sitting on top and rolling off in beads. Beetle didn't know what to make of it.

By then, the door opened. Beetle sat up and scrunched her knees to her chest, but the figure stopped at the screen to place a bundle of clothing behind it.

"Eirien waits outside for you." It was Master Lindir. "She will join you for the evening meal and guide you to your room after."

Beetle couldn't help a shocked: "My room?"

"Lord Elrond does not wish you to return to Prince Fram's company for the night."

That didn't really clear anything up. Beetle was grateful that she wouldn't have to go back and face Prince Fram's inevitable anger, but the prospect of a room was strange. She wasn't ill like Little Worm. She could sleep anywhere. Why not with the rest of Lord Elrond's thralls?

Perhaps it is so they can lock you in.

The thought crossed through her mind unbidden. Beetle sucked in a breath. Yes. That must be it.

As Master Lindir left she had the sense to call after him: "Thank you."

Before he shut the door, he returned a long-suffering: "You are most welcome."

Once more alone, she untucked her limbs and dried herself off. The comb Master Lindir had left for her was carved from bone, with wide teeth and little pink flowers painted on the handle. She allowed herself to marvel at it for a moment before ripping it through her hair as fast as she could. The last thing she needed right now was to get in trouble for being slow.

She couldn't work out what the bottle was for (it was filled with some kind of sweet-smelling oil), and ignored it. Beetle came around the screen for the clothes. Or- rather- the dress.

It was a dress. Beetle unfolded it in awe. Not even remotely like a tunic. It felt so wrong to hold it. The fabric was a deep blue, sturdy and quilted, yet it weighed almost nothing. With it was a white under-dress of nearly the same shape. Beetle slipped into that first. The fabric ghosted over her skin like wind. She laced up the ties at the neck and then pulled the outer dress on over it. This tied at the front and somehow fit almost as if it had been tailored for her.

She wanted to cry. It felt so good to wear. The inside of the collar was even embroidered with roses.

Beetle braided her hair back, retied the sling that Lord Elrond wanted her to use, and then bent to scoop up her old tunic and fold it under her good arm. Clean and dressed, she stepped out of the washroom to see an Elvish girl who looked almost her age standing in the hall, hands clasped, waiting for her.

The girl offered her a warm smile. "Eirien," she introduced, touching her own chest.

"Beetle," Beetle answered cautiously.

Eirien gestured to the tunic Beetle had in her arms. "You can leave that. You won't need it." She took it from Beetle and left it on a nearby chair to be collected, and then hooked her arm in Beetle's free one and started down the hall. "Lindir says you are staying in Imladris?"

Her hair was so long and soft and a deep, rich brown that caught the light. Beetle felt the impulse to reach up and smooth out her own braid. She would have if her hands were free.

"Yes. Um- Lord Elrond has decided so."

"Good. Then you and I will be fast friends, I think."

Beetle's mind was spinning, trying to make sense of the girl next to her. Was she a thrall or a free elf? She tried not to sound anxious as she asked: "Do you serve Lord Elrond?"

"Mhm," Eirien chirruped. "Usually in the kitchens or cleaning. I fear I'm a little too clumsy to be doing much else. I tripped carrying a tray once and Lindir decided right away that I ought never to do it again."

Beetle didn't know what to say. "And Lord Elrond?"

"What about him?"

"What did he do?" Beetle probed. "-When you tripped?"

"Oh! Well, he wasn't around. I was bringing Lady Arwen a meal and she laughed and helped me up and made such a joke of it that she embarrassed Lindir almost beyond repair."

"Lady Arwen is the Lady of Rivendell- Imladris?" The name felt strange to say, but all the Elves referred to the city as such. Beetle supposed she ought to as well.

"She's Lord Elrond's daughter. His wife, Lady Celebrían, is the Lady of Imladris." Eirien patted Beetle's arm. "And she's just as good-natured." Eirien, mercifully, went on to give brief descriptions for Beetle's benefit. Lady Arwen had dark hair like her father, a bright laugh, and an even brighter smile which she wore often. Lady Celebrian could be identified by her golden hair and the silver circlet she wore on her head, had a great love of trees, and was most fond of dressing in green and were the twins, too, Eirien said. They looked a great deal like their father, were spirited, and held the unfortunate reputation of being the worst pranksters in all of Imladris. She told Beetle not to worry about them just yet, as they were out on a hunt and weren't expected back for some time.

Beetle eagerly drank up the new information. She needed to know as much as possible to avoid offending anyone or making a fool of herself. As Eirien led her back down that same staircase Master Lindir had taken her up, she tentatively asked: "What should I expect from Lord Elrond?"

"Well, he's very kind," Eirien said amicably.

That didn't tell her anything. Beetle wasn't even sure if she was being truthful. "Yes. He's been kind to me," she agreed. "But- what kind of master is he? What's he like when he's angry? Is there anything I ought to be especially careful about? How does he punish you?"

Eirien stopped short. "He's never punished me. Or anyone that I can think of except his children. They can get up to such mischief sometimes and they do drive poor Lindir absolutely mad. He can be very severe when he's cross, but he's never unkind."

She moved on, taking Beetle with her, and the two of them dropped into thick silence. Eirien had insisted her case so passionately and was so eager not to speak of the matter at all that she must be frightened. Beetle supposed she shouldn't try and get anything more out of her. She was clearly worried about speaking ill of her master and that, in of itself, told Beetle what she needed to know.

Eirien led her out into the great hall. The central fire still burned and the tables were now laid with the evening meal. Outside, the sky was dimming to shades of purple. Just as the night before, the room was filled with happy songs and lively conversation as the Elves ate together. At the far end, near the door, she spotted Prince Fram's thanes and their shield boys. Lord Elrond and Prince Fram both were vacant from the dais, but two Elvish women matching Eirien's descriptions sat locked in a deep conversation over their plates.

Eirien led her to sit with her at one of the long tables in the rows at the back of the room. Even in her new dress, Beetle still felt horribly out of place. Eirien was quick to fill a plate for her, then for herself, and poured them both a red drink that on further inspection proved to be some kind of sweet fruit juice.

The other Elves mostly left Beetle alone, paying her just a few nods or smiles of welcome. She was extremely grateful. She probably would have died of embarrassment had any of them tried to make conversation.

The tension between her and Eirien eased over food. Eventually, Beetle had the courage to ask:

"Do you know what I'll be doing?"

Eirien took a very large bite of chicken and waved her fork around. "Whatever you like, I imagine."

Beetle sighed. Eirien was sweet, but she certainly wasn't very helpful. Maybe Master Lindir would give her instructions in the morning. She retreated to her plate, poked at her food, and didn't attempt any more questions the rest of the meal.

Once they were through and the Elves began clearing up dishes and scrubbing the tables, Eirien led Beetle back the way they'd come, past the washroom, and then opened a door for her. Beetle stopped at the threshold.

"It's enormous!" Beetle exclaimed.

Eirien peered past her into the room, but it was like they weren't even looking at the same space. She was entirely unsurprised.

"There's a sleeping dress and robe in that far dresser over there, along with a second dress and some toiletries," she pointed out. "And if you feel cold, I think Lindir made sure there were extra blankets. Do you think you'll need anything else?"

How could she? The dresser Eirien had pointed out on the left side of the room had a looking glass on top of it with a tray containing a comb and some various bottles. There was a wash bin and pitcher next to that. On the other side of the room the bed hulked pre-eminent next to a merry fire, a comfortable chair, and a stack of books. The windows let in the river's silvery laughter and the songs of the birds as they sang themselves to sleep. It looked like a lady's room.

Wordlessly, Beetle shook her head. She swallowed and asked: "What will I do in the morning?"

"Sleep as late as you like. Lindir wanted me to tell you that Lord Elrond wishes it. Goodnight, Beetle."

"-Goodnight."

Eirien shut the door behind her and Beetle heard her soft footsteps padding away down the hall. She walked around the room, touching the thick eiderdown blankets on the bed, running her finger along the curved stone fireplace mantel, inspecting the comb (just as intricate as the one in the bath), and opening and sniffing the different bottles on top of the dresser. At last, she went to the window and looked out.

Below, the buildings shone with yellow light against the blue-black night. Elves wound through the pathways and bridges carrying lanterns ahead of them on their way back to their homes. The river caught the moonlight and the wind rustled through the trees until they almost seemed to speak. Beetle closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

She was so tired.

That morning felt far away, the memory of it murky, almost like a nightmare she had woken from. But Beetle fiercely reminded herself that this was a dream. It was impossible for it to stay like this for long. Nothing came for free, not to her, and Beetle hated to think what Lord Elrond might ask in return for such a lavish display of hospitality.

She ought to be obedient and at least try and sleep, but she had never slept alone before. The room was so quiet and so still. She could hear the blood in her own ears and the rise and fall of her own breath in her chest. It only fed her anxiety.

Little Worm. I must see Little Worm.

But not immediately. It was still too early. She must wait until the house went completely quiet, and then- if someone had not come by to lock her in- she could venture out and find her way back to the room Little Worm was kept. Just to see him. Just to hold his hand and say something, to let him know that she hadn't abandoned him, that he wasn't alone.

Beetle slid down to the floor and tucked her knees back up against her chest to count the stars until the moon reached its peak in the inky black sky.

Elrond stared unblinkingly at the Bruinen cascade, hands tightly clasped behind his back. They would be laying the tables for the evening meal by now. The fight for Little Worm's life had been bitter, but he was far too angry to feel fatigued just yet.

A shy knock came at the door to his solar. Without turning, he bid them to come in. It was Lindir.

"Prince Fram, my Lord Elrond."

The Prince clanked into the room. Still, Elrond did not turn.

"Leave us, Lindir."

The door fell shut.

The Prince launched almost immediately into: "My Lord, I-"

Elrond held up a hand to stop him, then in the same motion let it fall to his side. He let the silence fester for a moment before speaking.

"The boy lives despite you," he said at last, turning to glare at the Prince. "Your father sent a fine gift indeed."

Fram had the decency to look cowed. "We did not intend to insult you, sire."

"I am not a king," Elrond corrected immediately, closing the distance between them in unhurried, deliberate steps. The prince shrank in his shoes. "I do not keep thralls. Nor do I suffer any evil to abide within my home. The children will stay and you and your men will leave my valley at first light. Is that clear?"

"And the alliance? Orcs press closer and closer to the bounds of our territory and we cannot fight them all. My people's villages are burning with their crops. When winter comes-" Prince Fram's voice, which had gained new urgency, broke. "Please, my Lord Elrond. If you are able to lend us any aid at all, we will repay it in time. You have my word."

"The word of a slaver?" Elrond responded icily.

He had the decency to flinch.

"I am not my father. I promise you that."

Elrond stood toe to toe with him, glaring down with eyes that burned. If it had been a different day he might have believed him, but the image of a child broken and near-death was too vivid and too fresh.

Prince Fram turned his eyes to the ground, unable to bear the weight of Elrond's gaze any longer. He whispered: "Will you at least allow our hunting and scouting parties safe passage through the High Pass and the outskirts of your valley?"

"That has yet to be decided." Elrond took a step back and crossed the room to his desk. "The hour is late. Join your men in the Hall of Fire, if you wish. I will see you off at sunrise."

Prince Fram wisely chose not to linger. He paid Elrond a bow and turned to leave.

When he was gone, Elrond sat at his desk, put his head in his hands, and shut his eyes. He stayed like that for a very long time. He was only vaguely aware of the clock keeping track on the wall, of the house settling around him, and of the sound of passing footsteps outside the room. Exhaustion took him without warning. His limbs turned wooden. His body heavy, the muscles in his neck tightening into knots until his head throbbed. He ought to go see that Beetle was settled and that Little Worm still slept peacefully. He couldn't seem to rouse himself from his desk to do so. He would sit here just a few minutes more, only a few, and then he would get up.

The door latch rose, then fell. Quiet footsteps came up to his desk and a plate was set next to his elbow as a small, warm hand touched his shoulder.

"Eat and come to bed. You need rest."

Celebrían.

Elrond let out a long sigh and looked up at her. She brushed through the hair at his forehead, slender fingers tracing one of the little braids that framed his ear.

"The boy's situation is still perilous," he said.

"He is in good hands. They do not always have to be yours, meleth nin."

She pulled up a chair while Elrond ate a little, and made him drink something. When he finished, they bathed together and retired to their chamber, where Celebrian sat behind him on their bed, brushing out his hair. Elrond let his eyes fall shut again. It was in moments like this where he felt his age.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted.

"About?"

"The Éothéod. It takes a week to travel from their lands to Imladris. Beetle told me Little Worm had that wretched collar on him before they left. That was the source of the infection that was killing him. How do I aid a king who cares so little for his people?" His voice caught. There was the troublesome thing Prince Fram had admitted, too. The real reason his father sought foreign aid.

"But?" Celebrían prompted.

"The Prince tells me his people are starving. Not in so many words. They may not last the winter. That is why his father seeks the Elves."

For a moment, the only sound was the catch of the brush as Celebrían ran it through his hair. She set it aside and wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"The gift was an honest one, Elrond."

He pulled away to look at her.

"I mean to say," she went on, "That the children were as well meant as the horses. He truly seeks your favor."

"That is not the point. Those children have suffered too greatly already, and countless others do as well. Who knows how many other slaves he keeps in his hall?"

"The children will suffer no more. That is what matters most. And their kin back in Rhovanion will suffer more when the weather turns cold. Turning your back on King Frumgar will only harm those most vulnerable under his rule. You know this."

She took his face in her hands, stroking the curve of his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs. "Be generous as you have always done. They are still young. They will learn to be better. Do not punish the Éothéod for their King's evils, meleth nin. Aid does not equal approval."

Her eyes were green as the woods and deep with wisdom. Elrond pressed his forehead to hers.

"What would I do without you?"

"You would be insufferably stern."

He breathed a laugh at that.

She kissed his forehead and stood, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Rest. I will go watch over the boy if it would give you peace. I promise to wake you if his condition worsens."

He kissed her. Celebrian left to see how Little Worm fared and Elrond lay down in bed, drew up the covers, and sank into a dreamless sleep.