04
A Very Confusing Morning

A/N: Celebrian is accidentally eldritch. Elrond is accidentally sus. Beetle is an anxious wreck, as usual.

When the house had finally gone still, Beetle tried the door. It fell open easily, and to her surprise, there was no lock on it. No keyhole. Not even a bar for the door. Merely a simple latch. If they didn't mean to lock her in, why was she sleeping alone?

Best not to think about that now.

She had to focus on finding her way back to Little Worm. She crept through the dark halls, retracing her steps as best she remembered. There were far fewer sentries than she expected. She only crossed paths with two who paced the halls, their cloaks floating out from their armor like mist. The first had almost stumbled across her, but that was only because he somehow walked without making noise even in armor, and she hadn't noticed him until he came around the corner. Beetle had hid behind a curtain and waited for him to pass, and then hurried down the next hall and down the staircase.

At last, she made it to the intersection where Lord Elrond had transferred her to Master Lindir. She passed Lord Elrond's surgery and found the room he'd taken Little Worm to.

Beetle looked in. It was dark. Little Worm was a lump in the bed, moonlight shining through the window and the lantern by the bed competed to paint his face in pale blues and fiery oranges. Her eyes scanned the room before she stepped in, and she sucked in a breath.

Little Worm wasn't alone. She caught a glimpse of a woman sitting near the foot of the bed and before she could even take in who it was, she slipped back out of sight.

What am I going to do now?

Maybe if Beetle waited long enough, she would leave.

"I heard you come down the hall, child. You might as well come in."

Beetle's heart jumped into her throat. How? She supposed it didn't matter. She was caught and word would make it back to Lord Elrond that she'd been skulking about after dark when he had expressly left her instructions to go to bed. You disobey him at every turn and you can't even manage to hide it.

She chewed on her lip and inched back into view, then slowly sank to her knees at the threshold of the doorway. If she was going to be scolded or punished, she might as well get it over with.

The woman- the elf- let out a long sigh.

"Elrond mentioned you had a habit of that. Please rise. You came to see your friend, did you not?"

Her voice was gentle and bright as sunlight and utterly vacant of impatience or anger. Beetle didn't trust it. Slowly, she got her feet under her again and dragged herself toward Little Worm's bed. She stopped just short of it, unwilling to come within arm's reach.

The woman rose from her chair and was there in a heartbeat. Beetle was beginning to wonder if any Elves made any noise at all when they walked. She reached for her face just like Lord Elrond had, and Beetle impulsively flinched. The woman's hands paused, then touched her chin and lifted it.

"I only wish you would look at me. You needn't hang your head so. You are called Beetle?"

Tentatively, Beetle looked up at her and nodded. The woman's face was long, almost heart-shaped, her eyes were green and deeply warm. She was the most beautiful person Beetle had ever seen- with skin so smooth and fair it looked like glass. Her hair shone gold and shimmered down her back, set with intricate braids that framed her pointed ears and- Beetle's eyes widened with shock- she wore a silver circlet, fashioned with roses.

"Lady Celebrían," she breathed. She couldn't help looking back down at the ground and bowing.

Lady Celebrían caught her shoulders. "I won't expire if I'm not bowed to every moment of every day, tithen pen."

"I'm sorry." Beetle straightened, horribly confused.

That drew a bell-like chuckle. Lady Celebrían took her hand and led her to Little Worm's bedside, then released her and sat again. Beetle glanced at her, more to gauge the reach of her arm than anything else, and then took Little Worm's hand in hers. It was warm, a little clammy, but neither burning hot or freezing cold. He slept deeply, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His hair and face were clean, and someone- probably that healer Lord Elrond had left him with- had dressed him in a light linen shirt, and tucked the thick coverlet up to his chest.

Little Worm looked flushed. She felt his forehead.

"The fever still burns," Lady Celebrían told her softly. "That is good. His body is working to flush the infection."

Beetle wanted to ask her if she thought he would win the battle. He still looked so sick. She didn't trust herself to ask it without stumbling all over her words, she was so flustered already.

Without warning, Lady Celebrían said: "He will win. Don't fret."

Well now she was fretting even more. Beetle's heart pounded. Lady Celebrían radiated the same presence Lord Elrond did- a presence she couldn't name, but dreaded.

Lady Celebrían stood from her seat and came toward them, and Beetle shrank back. She felt silly for it when Lady Celebrían merely reached for the bowl of water on the bedside table.

"I will return in a moment," she said, and floated out of the room.

It was so abrupt. But that meant she had a moment alone with Little Worm, and that was more precious than words could say. Beetle brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed it.

"I'm here, elsku dúllan mín," she whispered to him. "I'm here. We're still in Rivendell. We aren't going home. You are going to live." The last sentence was fierce. She repeated it. "You are going to live. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

She pressed her cheek to his cheek and closed her eyes, taking slow, deep breaths alongside his. As much as she tried to comfort Little Worm, Little Worm was also a source of great comfort to her. Everything had changed so drastically in the space of one day, but she still had Little Worm. He was going to live. That was something.

A moment later, a hand touched her shoulder. Beetle jumped and straightened.

"Rest," Lady Celebrían told her. "He will still be here when you wake."

It was a direct command. Beetle didn't dare refuse or even try to argue. She kissed Little Worm's forehead with a murmured: I'll be back, I promise, and backed out of the room.

Lady Celebrían cast her a warm smile. "Sleep well, Beetle."

"Thank you, my lady," Beetle stammered out before she left. She was sure she wouldn't. Not here. Not without a door that locked or even a friend nearby who could be an extra pair of ears in case someone approached. She didn't bother avoiding the sentries as she scurried back to her room with her shoulders scrunched up to her ears. She had already been discovered. There was no point in trying to hide.

When she got back to her room, she found the nightdress and changed into it. With a grimace, she slipped off her sling. Her bandaged wrist was stiff and it ached, and it pinched to move her fingers, but it couldn't be helped. She wouldn't be able to sleep in the sling and she needed to take out her braid and comb through her hair anyways.

That night, Beetle really did try her best to sleep on the bed. She didn't want to seem ungrateful. But sleeping so high off the ground left her feeling exposed. After tossing around for what felt like hours, she sat up, cocooned herself in the duvet, and then curled up on the floor next to the bed, facing the dying fire, and finally, finally fell into a fitful sleep.

She woke to the sound of something being set on the table by the bed, and the raking and then crackling of coals in the fireplace. Her whole body hurt, her back and arm most of all. Sluggishly, she rolled to see a figure crouching by the fire. He stood and then crossed to sit by her and press the back of his hand to her forehead.

Beetle's vision sharpened all at once. Her stomach flipped. She shot up straight and clutched the duvet around herself.

"Ae! Be still. I apologize. I did not intend to startle you. I only wished to see whether or not you were falling ill," Lord Elrond tisked.

The sun blazed gold through the windows. She'd slept so late! Beetle couldn't even remember passing into a deeper sleep. Her eyes focused past him at the door lying open. She felt nauseous. He had come in and gotten so close and she might not have even woken at all.

"Did you fall?" he asked, rising to head to the bedside table. There was a tray on it with a plate and a glass of something. He brought the earthenware cup over to her and held it out. Beetle took it. It was warm in her hands.

"My lord?"

"Off the bed," he clarified.

She flushed red. It might be better to lie, but she couldn't bring herself to. It had almost felt like Lady Celebrían had heard her thoughts the night before, and she didn't want to risk getting it wrong.

"I-" how to say it without sounding rude? "-I couldn't sleep. I've never slept in a bed like that before. It is…" she trailed off, her voice growing small as she mumbled: "...very tall."

"It is," Lord Elrond agreed. He sounded almost amused. "Would you prefer Lindir to make up a bed on the floor?"

Beetle hated the thought of Master Lindir being asked to do anything for her. He seemed to dislike her enough as it was without her making more work for him. Beetle fumbled for something diplomatic to say.

"I don't- the blanket is enough. It is very soft and- and I'm sure I'll get used to the bed. I'll do my best to sleep in it."

She heard him sigh and got the impression that had been the wrong answer. Beetle bit the inside of her cheek and hugged her knees even tighter to her chest. The cup he'd given her held a steaming liquid that smelled sweet. Tentatively, she took a sip. It was some kind of tea with an almost viscous body that coated the back of her throat. She tried not to make a face. At least it tasted like honey and lemongrass.

Lord Elrond, to her alarm, sat near her on the edge of the bed. Beetle stayed rooted to the floor.

"About last night," she began nervously. "I- I am sorry for disobeying you. I was worried for Little Worm."

"This is a bedroom, not a prison. You may leave it when you like."

Again, that had been the wrong thing to say. Beetle felt herself beginning to panic. He still wasn't leaving. His gaze was a weight, somehow scathing while also making her shiver. It felt like he could look straight through her. She tried to steady her breathing, trying not to show how frightened she was. Sometimes men liked fear. She anxiously sipped the tea, just to give herself something to do that wasn't sitting in a pathetic, trembling puddle on the floor.

She couldn't bear to look at him. The room suddenly felt so small, the walls closing in around her, threatening to crush her whole. Before she knew it, he was there again, crouching in front of her, taking the cup and setting it aside so he could hold her trembling hands.

"Am I really so terrifying, penneth?"

How was she to answer that?

Beetle fought the urge to recoil and swallowed. This was it. This was the reason he had set her aside in her own room, alone, where he could come and go as he pleased. And now he was here, Little Worm tucked away where she could not reach him, his life in Lord Elrond's hands and Lord Elrond was here, in front of her, so very close. Her throat began to close.

She didn't even notice that she had started to cry until he dried her eyes with the velvet hem of his sleeve.

"Did you notice there is no lock on your door?"

Numbly, Beetle nodded.

Lord Elrond went on. "There are no locks on any of the doors. That is how safe you are here, penneth. I will not let you come to harm, and you have nothing to fear from me, either. You are safe," he repeated, voice firm.

It was not at all what she had expected him to say. Neither did she expect him to stand and step away from her.

"Prince Fram and his company are no longer in Imladris. I sent them away at dawn," he told her, voice still bewilderingly gentle. "Please eat. Your body needs it to heal. You may go where you wish, sleep as much as you need, and if you wish to sit with Little Worm, you are welcome to. I will send Lindir to fetch you later so I can see how your wrists are faring."

Somehow, the knowledge that Prince Fram was gone did not make her feel safer. It only made her feel trapped. It was settling in now that Rivendell -Imladris- truly was her home. She really did belong to Lord Elrond and she was fully left to his every whim. There would be no returning home. She would never see Mouse or any of her other companions again. Until Little Worm was strong again, she was alone. She had to figure out how to please Lord Elrond for Little Worm's sake, to keep him safe. She doubted Lord Elrond would hesitate to punish Little Worm for her mistakes. He already knew how much she cared for him, and that had been her first and biggest mistake. She just wished he wasn't so utterly unreadable.

She heard the door close. He was gone. Beetle let out a shaky breath and stood unsteadily on her feet and went over to the plate he'd left for her. It was piled with a ridiculous amount of food: soft cheese, summer berries, a fluffy roll spread with jam, soft boiled eggs. Beetle didn't even feel all that hungry. She'd eaten more than usual the night before and she wasn't accustomed to eating so much so often. At least, for now, she wouldn't starve. She wondered how long that would last. She wished they hadn't already spread the jam on the bread. Beetle would've liked to squirrel it away somewhere just in case.

It was a struggle to work her way through everything, but she managed it- even though it made her stomach hurt. After she ate, Beetle took the time to wash her face and dress. When she sat down in front of the looking glass at the dresser in the full light of day, she stared.

She'd never seen such a clear image of herself. Only reflections in the water. I look so plain. She was, compared to the Elves. Her face was round and spackled with freckles, her nose short and red from crying, her hair a straw-like mess. She took her time to comb it out, but try as she might she couldn't get it as smooth as the Elves wore theirs. I probably never will. Maybe that was for the best. The less attractive she was, the better.

Beetle rolled up her hair as she was used to and tried to forget how messy she looked. Now that the novelty had faded, the dress felt ridiculous on her with its embroidery, the pretty fabric- she felt herself longing, rather ungratefully, for her old things. At least she didn't feel so utterly wrong in them. She looked out of place no matter how finely she was dressed.

She remembered to put the sling back on and tuck her aching arm into it. As the muscles began to relax, it hurt less.

Now that she'd eaten and dressed, Beetle was at a complete loss as to what to do with herself. Go where you wish, rest, sit with Little Worm. Beetle was reluctant to follow through on the first two. There were always lines. There were always boundaries. They existed whether or not she was told of them. If she were back in Rhovanion, perhaps in another horselord's court, she might have had a chance at guessing what they were. Here in Imladris, she had no way of knowing.

She could begin with her plate and cup. Beetle gathered them both up in her free arm, then pushed the latch up with her shoulder and toed the door open.

She had absolutely no idea where the kitchen was.

Well, she figured that if she stuck to the main hallways, she wouldn't go astray- and she would probably, hopefully, come across another thrall who could point her in the right direction.

Now that it was light and she wasn't hurrying behind a guide, she could take in the hall- or rather- the palace- better as she wound through the corridors and down the staircase to the first floor. It was no less maze-like than it had been the first time, but Beetle made careful note of each turn she took.

It was surprisingly empty, save for a few guards posted sporadically throughout. It seemed that this really was Lord Elrond's home, and unlike Lord Frumgar's longhouse it only housed him and his family. She wondered how large his family was. Eirien had mentioned just three children: Lady Arwen and "the twins", and Lady Celebrían. Lord Frumgar had only one son, but he lived with his brothers and their wives, his aging mother, and all of his extended relatives. If Lord Elrond didn't live with all of his kin, why was his home so large?

Distressingly, the hall ended in a courtyard terrace that overlooked the rest of Imladris. Beetle stepped out into it, carefully glancing around to make sure no one else important-looking was reading on any of the benches or walking around the flowerbeds. She didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

The courtyard centered around a fountain, whose laughter mingled with the roar of the Bruinen. It was so close to one of the falls that Beetle could feel the cool spray on her face. The wind in the valley wasn't as strong as she might have expected it to be, but it played through the tops of the trees and ruffled the strands of hair falling from her twist.

The courtyard had three doors attached. Beetle stood frozen. What if one of them led to a private room?

One of the doors opened and an elf stepped out carrying a satchel. He had long dark hair braided neatly back from his face and looked nearly like Lord Elrond, with the same high cheekbones and disconcertingly kind features. Beetle tried to duck behind the fountain but he spotted her almost immediately.

Shyly, she slunk back into view and mumbled, "Sorry," staring at the ground.

She meant to ask him if he knew the way to the kitchen, but the words wouldn't come out.

"As far as I know, you have nothing to apologize for. You haven't done anything except hide behind the fountain, which is hardly a crime." His voice was strong and friendly, and it sounded like he might be smiling at her. "You are Lord Elrond's new ward, are you not?"

Ward? Beetle didn't know what to make of the question. Maybe that was what they called thralls? Hesitantly, Beetle nodded.

"From Rhovanion?" he asked, probably just to be sure.

Beetle nodded again and found her voice: "I am called Beetle, my lord."

"I am not a lord," he said with a laugh. "Erestor," he introduced. "Are you lost? You look lost."

Beetle flushed pink to her ears, for the thousandth time wishing the thralls weren't dressed as well as everyone else. He wore smart high-collared indigo robes with a maroon over-cloak hemmed with silver thread. He could have been a lord for all she knew. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

"No harm done," he interrupted in that same friendly tone. "Are you looking for Lindir?"

She shook her head. "Not- exactly. I'm- I'm looking for the kitchen."

He held out an arm. "Come. I will show you."

"I don't mean to be a bother," she blurted out. He looked like he was on his way somewhere already and she didn't want to get him in trouble for being late. Then, she added with another mumble: "If you just tell me how to get there I'm sure I can find it."

"It is not a bother," he said, as if it really wasn't. "It isn't as if it's in Harad."

It sounded like a joke. Beetle tried to smile even though she had no idea what Harad even was. She hurried over to him as he beckoned to her and led her back the way she had come from. As they walked, Beetle glanced up at him. He really did have a kind face, and he didn't seem as harried as Master Lindir.

Bravely, she whispered: "May I ask a question, Master Erestor?"

"Erestor will do," he glanced down at her with a quirk of a smile. "You may ask me anything you like."

"Lord Elrond said I could go anywhere I like, but... none of the doors have locks and I'm afraid of wandering somewhere I shouldn't."

"You know, that's not a question," he teased, which completely flustered her. He had the mercy to answer: "The second floor is small and mostly guest rooms. This first floor is free for you to explore. Lord Elrond has an extensive library and he would be absolutely delighted if you perused the books, so long as you are careful with them. I suppose you already know the surgery, his healing halls, and the Hall of Fire. Back the way we came is his solar. The only place you risk going astray is the third floor. The family's rooms are up there."

Beetle resolved never to return to that courtyard with the fountain and the three doors unless specifically called to it, and relaxed at the rest of the information. Erestor explained it without any ambiguity. Stairs were an easy boundary not to cross.

"Thank you," she said.

"You are most welcome. And here is the kitchen, so this is where I will leave you."

They stood in front of a large door carved from oak. He opened it for her, which only made her blush a deeper shade of red at the undue courtesy of it, and ducked under his arm to slip inside.

It was smaller than she might have expected, and warm from the bake ovens. An elf woman bustled around at the table, butchering up a leg of venison and Beetle was relieved to spot Eirien washing dishes in a basin by the large windows on the right. She hung at the door until Eirien, looking up from her work, noticed her.

Her face broke into a wide grin. "Beetle! You're awake!"

Beetle couldn't help but smile back. She seemed so happy to see her. "I came to wash my plate."

"I'll take it," Eirien said, and ran over to before she could even argue. "Beetle, this is Gwaeleth, and she is the best cook in all of Arda, I swear." She nodded toward the woman at the table, who gave Beetle an encouraging nod. Beetle curtsied to her.

"Can I help with anything?" She wanted so desperately to be useful and keep out of sight.

"Ae, good Valar, no!" Gwaeleth exclaimed. "Lord Elrond would have my head if I put you to work."

"Oh," There it was. At least someone was honest about him. Beetle's stomach sank. "What does he want me to do?"

"Eat and sleep," Eirien called from over at the wash bin. "And get fatter."

"Eirien!" Gwaeleth scolded.

"It's true."

"He didn't say that," Gwaeleth said, looking back at Beetle. She deftly sliced through the leg of meat on the table, pulling out the bones. "He wants you to rest. You've been through enough, poor thing."

Beetle didn't know what to say. "So...so there really isn't anything I can do?"

"Maybe later when your arm has healed," Gwaeleth said with a reassuring smile. "Why don't you go check on your friend? And there are plenty of books in the library if you get bored."

"Thank you," was Beetle's weak reply. She couldn't read, and the fact that everyone kept mentioning books made her nervous about what they expected out of her. What would happen when they found out she couldn't?

"Off you go. If you get hungry, come down here and I'll make you something."

Beetle paid her an awkward nod and left feeling very lost.

Little Worm. She could go sit with him. That was one of the things Lord Elrond had said that she could do, and as much as she wanted to get her bearings and visit all of the places Master Erestor had mentioned, seeing Little Worm was far more important.

Hopefully neither Lady Celebrían nor Lord Elrond would be there. She didn't think she'd be able to keep herself together if they were.