Disclaimer: I own nothing
To my reviewers: First, thank you all so much for reading.
Smeagol: Yay! You cured my writer's block! And do not be so hasty to deal out judgment and shame. Thanks for reading and see you tomorrow!
HobbitsRFun: It's not really supposed to be humor. Am I that bad of a writer?!?! Just kidding. At least someone read it!
Arabella Thorne: Yeah, I thought he was a little too collected usually. I'm glad you liked it!
Chica79: Yeah, they are the best. Hehe. Good luck with yours! Here's another chapter for ya!
**********
Estel stared at the water, hard. He challenged it, threatening it. "You can't hurt me! I can conquer you!" yet at the same time, fear coursed through his veins. He couldn't conquer the water, because if he got too close the water would see him, and show him who he was. Who was he? He was a terrible boy who was heir to a man who kept the greatest evil, he was a boy who had lied to and deceived the person who had cared for him as a father. He was a boy with no purpose.
"You cannot defeat me!" Yet the fear remained, and hatred of self, despite his brave words, and his voice began to waver. What of Isildur? Isildur had fail, failed to destroy the ring--even if it was gone now (as Estel believed it was), it was his line that had failed then. He was as weak as Isildur, as fearful, as *human*.
Angry now, he stood, and began to walk through the dale. He kicked at the dirt under his callused bare feet. The moist mud splattered his ankles and legs, sticking firmly to him. He looked longingly now to the stream, where he could wash off the mud, but did not go to it.
"Why was I born to this fate, this weakness?" he wondered aloud. "Why couldn't Isildur have done it then, just been rid of the thing? Will I ever rule Gondor? No, I cannot--will not--rule. I have weakness in my blood. I would drive land to ruin." An image flashed in his mind, an image of a beautiful city of peace burning, and him holding a torch repeating an apology.
"Never will I see Gondor again!" He swore, stabbing his sword into the ground. "I will make up for my ancestor's failure--I will NOT drive the area to ruin! Let any man challenge me if he will, I will die before I kill!"
As if in answer, a thundering of hooves was heard. Horses approached the boy, and fast. His heart raced and his eyes got wide, his pupils tiny. By the time the riders came into view, he was so scared that he saw many riders, not just two, mounted together. He jumped, flattening himself against the nearest tree.
"Hello? Excuse me?" an urgent voice asked. Estel looked up to see a young elf, still mounted, directly in front of him. She stared at him, her black hair framing her face and her black eyes warmly passionate. "Can you show me the way to Imaldris?"
"Yes," answered Estel in a tiny, frightened squeak.
"Please, this child need medicine, help me!" demanded the elven maiden, and Estel noticed that the bundle in front of her was a girl, a human, maybe eight years old.
"There! Up the glen!" He pointed, shrinking back to the trees.
"How far? Hurry!"
"I don't--I don't--"
"Then get up onto the horse with us. Don't worry about the horse, I am light and this girl is nearly starved." Estel hesitated, then quickly mounted and took the reins, his arms running around the young elf's waist. He guided the horse steadily to Imaldris. Something was making him fond of the young girl, a familiar essence, but an elusive one. As soon as he had pulled the horse to a stop, the elf was off, taking the young human girl with her. He stared after her, then took the horse to the stables.
**********
Estel had taken only a few minutes to have the horse fed and find the elf again. She was with Elrond, talking about the human child. Estel knocked on the door before barging in.
"Estel, please wait outside."
"Sorry," Estel said, sick of being rejected--or at least, feeling that way. He sighed and leaned next to the closed door. Without realizing it, he heard parts of Elrond's conversation with the elf.
"I'm sorry about the boy," Elrond said, and the girl shrugged it off. "About this girl."
The elf responded, in a lower voice, "She's been. . .Gondor. . .back. . .sickening. . .help her, Ada?" The fragments confounded Estel, but he didn't forget one word. Gondor, that was his city! No, it wasn't, it was the city he could never see. What was wrong with the girl, though? He wanted her to be all right, for some reason he cared deeply for her wounds to heal. Wounds? Did she have wounds?
Estel slumped into a sitting position, his back against the wall. For many hours he sat, curious as to what was going on behind the door. He heard movement, footsteps and hushed voices. His eyelids began to droop but still he remained. Finally, he heard Elrond tell the elf, "She'll be all right, in a few days' time."
Estel jumped to his feet, wide-awake, as Elrond and the elf maiden came out of the room. Elrond looked surprised, maybe a little angry but definitely surprised. "Estel, what in all of Middle Earth are you doing out here?"
"You said wait outside. How is she? Is she all right?" he demanded. He couldn't think of anything until he knew how she was, if he knew he could sleep and eat and if not, he could die.
"She will recover," the elven maiden said, stepping forward. "Your name is Estel then." It was not a question. She offered her hand. He took it. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances."
"So do I, Nameless One."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I am Arwen. Elrond is my father, but I have been living with my grandmother in the woods of Lothlorien. That is why you have never seen me before around here."
"I see," said Estel.
"Estel, perhaps you should rest," suggested Elrond, recognizing all the signs in the young human. "The young human girl may have recovered by the time you wake up."
Estel headed to his room, but turned back sleepily. "She *will* be all right?"
"Of course."
***********
For two days, Estel stood outside the mysterious girl's door. He was not yet allowed in, to see her, but still felt an urge to watch over her. He knew--and Elladan and Elrohir often reminded him--that no harm would come to her in Imaldris. Still, the boy waited.
On the second day, he heard a new voice. It muttered weakly, and Arwen answered in soothing whispers. This exchange gave him faith that he would soon meet the youngster. When Arwen came out of the room afterwards, she turned to him.
"When she is stronger--"
"Please, I must see her!" Estel begged. He had hardly moved for sleep, food, or any other reason for those days, and soon he, too would be Arwen's patient. He told her so.
"Very well, I shall go and speak to her. If I tell you--only if I tell you-- you may come in. If I tell you no, get to your bed and rest. Agreed?"
"You needn't look out for me. Agreed." Estel crossed his arms over his chest as Arwen disappeared back into the room. Again, he heard the hushed voices, and then Arwen came back out, looking a bit grumpy.
"I do not think it in her best interest, but she will see you. She will not tell us her name, but we call her Feanor, in your language it means spirit of fire."
"May I ask why?" Estel asked, careful with his words around this feisty creature.
"Because anything short of that and the flame would not have been rekindled. Go on then," she said, jerking her head. "Not to long, either, she's still weak." Estel strode through the door into the room. The girl, Feanor, sat on the bed in a white gown, her knees folded under her. She was very pale and sweaty. Her dark hair hung in strands and clumps around her face, her sunken eyes aged and careful guarded. Estel imagined he could see her organs she was so thin.
"Please," she said, staring at the floor, "don't look at me, sir." Estel focused instead on the floor, as the girl did.
"Are you all right?" he inquired, fearing if he spoke too loud the fragile child would shatter.
"They say I will heal," her tiny voice answered.
"How--how old are you?"
"Twelve, sir. I'll be thirteen soon." Her voice wavered. Twelve? She hardly looked eight! Estel wondered why she kept calling him 'sir'. He nearly asked, but decided instead to leave her alone, so she could rest.
"I--I'll leave you alone so you can sleep," he said, realizing how much like Elrond he sounded. He found he could not tear his eyes away from the child, so backed away until he had reached the door, and then slithered out. Once he could no longer see her, he turned.
"Are you all right, Estel? You do not look well," Elrond observed. In truth, the boy's face was nearly as pale as the girl's had been, though a bit green, and as sweaty.
"She's--she's--she's--"
"I know, it frightens us all to see children like that."
"What happened to her?" Estel managed. "Who did that to her?" His anger was rising again. "Whoever it was--"
"No, Estel," Elrond said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You must not seek revenge. What was done to her is truly sick, yes, and when she is ready she will tell you everything. Until that time, only Arwen and I will know." Estel began to protest, but again Elrond cut him off. "Do not be so hasty to hear this story, Estel, for it is her deepest secret, and when she does tell you, you will wish you did not know."
***********
That night, as he tried to sleep, Estel thought over Elrond's words.
To my reviewers: First, thank you all so much for reading.
Smeagol: Yay! You cured my writer's block! And do not be so hasty to deal out judgment and shame. Thanks for reading and see you tomorrow!
HobbitsRFun: It's not really supposed to be humor. Am I that bad of a writer?!?! Just kidding. At least someone read it!
Arabella Thorne: Yeah, I thought he was a little too collected usually. I'm glad you liked it!
Chica79: Yeah, they are the best. Hehe. Good luck with yours! Here's another chapter for ya!
**********
Estel stared at the water, hard. He challenged it, threatening it. "You can't hurt me! I can conquer you!" yet at the same time, fear coursed through his veins. He couldn't conquer the water, because if he got too close the water would see him, and show him who he was. Who was he? He was a terrible boy who was heir to a man who kept the greatest evil, he was a boy who had lied to and deceived the person who had cared for him as a father. He was a boy with no purpose.
"You cannot defeat me!" Yet the fear remained, and hatred of self, despite his brave words, and his voice began to waver. What of Isildur? Isildur had fail, failed to destroy the ring--even if it was gone now (as Estel believed it was), it was his line that had failed then. He was as weak as Isildur, as fearful, as *human*.
Angry now, he stood, and began to walk through the dale. He kicked at the dirt under his callused bare feet. The moist mud splattered his ankles and legs, sticking firmly to him. He looked longingly now to the stream, where he could wash off the mud, but did not go to it.
"Why was I born to this fate, this weakness?" he wondered aloud. "Why couldn't Isildur have done it then, just been rid of the thing? Will I ever rule Gondor? No, I cannot--will not--rule. I have weakness in my blood. I would drive land to ruin." An image flashed in his mind, an image of a beautiful city of peace burning, and him holding a torch repeating an apology.
"Never will I see Gondor again!" He swore, stabbing his sword into the ground. "I will make up for my ancestor's failure--I will NOT drive the area to ruin! Let any man challenge me if he will, I will die before I kill!"
As if in answer, a thundering of hooves was heard. Horses approached the boy, and fast. His heart raced and his eyes got wide, his pupils tiny. By the time the riders came into view, he was so scared that he saw many riders, not just two, mounted together. He jumped, flattening himself against the nearest tree.
"Hello? Excuse me?" an urgent voice asked. Estel looked up to see a young elf, still mounted, directly in front of him. She stared at him, her black hair framing her face and her black eyes warmly passionate. "Can you show me the way to Imaldris?"
"Yes," answered Estel in a tiny, frightened squeak.
"Please, this child need medicine, help me!" demanded the elven maiden, and Estel noticed that the bundle in front of her was a girl, a human, maybe eight years old.
"There! Up the glen!" He pointed, shrinking back to the trees.
"How far? Hurry!"
"I don't--I don't--"
"Then get up onto the horse with us. Don't worry about the horse, I am light and this girl is nearly starved." Estel hesitated, then quickly mounted and took the reins, his arms running around the young elf's waist. He guided the horse steadily to Imaldris. Something was making him fond of the young girl, a familiar essence, but an elusive one. As soon as he had pulled the horse to a stop, the elf was off, taking the young human girl with her. He stared after her, then took the horse to the stables.
**********
Estel had taken only a few minutes to have the horse fed and find the elf again. She was with Elrond, talking about the human child. Estel knocked on the door before barging in.
"Estel, please wait outside."
"Sorry," Estel said, sick of being rejected--or at least, feeling that way. He sighed and leaned next to the closed door. Without realizing it, he heard parts of Elrond's conversation with the elf.
"I'm sorry about the boy," Elrond said, and the girl shrugged it off. "About this girl."
The elf responded, in a lower voice, "She's been. . .Gondor. . .back. . .sickening. . .help her, Ada?" The fragments confounded Estel, but he didn't forget one word. Gondor, that was his city! No, it wasn't, it was the city he could never see. What was wrong with the girl, though? He wanted her to be all right, for some reason he cared deeply for her wounds to heal. Wounds? Did she have wounds?
Estel slumped into a sitting position, his back against the wall. For many hours he sat, curious as to what was going on behind the door. He heard movement, footsteps and hushed voices. His eyelids began to droop but still he remained. Finally, he heard Elrond tell the elf, "She'll be all right, in a few days' time."
Estel jumped to his feet, wide-awake, as Elrond and the elf maiden came out of the room. Elrond looked surprised, maybe a little angry but definitely surprised. "Estel, what in all of Middle Earth are you doing out here?"
"You said wait outside. How is she? Is she all right?" he demanded. He couldn't think of anything until he knew how she was, if he knew he could sleep and eat and if not, he could die.
"She will recover," the elven maiden said, stepping forward. "Your name is Estel then." It was not a question. She offered her hand. He took it. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances."
"So do I, Nameless One."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I am Arwen. Elrond is my father, but I have been living with my grandmother in the woods of Lothlorien. That is why you have never seen me before around here."
"I see," said Estel.
"Estel, perhaps you should rest," suggested Elrond, recognizing all the signs in the young human. "The young human girl may have recovered by the time you wake up."
Estel headed to his room, but turned back sleepily. "She *will* be all right?"
"Of course."
***********
For two days, Estel stood outside the mysterious girl's door. He was not yet allowed in, to see her, but still felt an urge to watch over her. He knew--and Elladan and Elrohir often reminded him--that no harm would come to her in Imaldris. Still, the boy waited.
On the second day, he heard a new voice. It muttered weakly, and Arwen answered in soothing whispers. This exchange gave him faith that he would soon meet the youngster. When Arwen came out of the room afterwards, she turned to him.
"When she is stronger--"
"Please, I must see her!" Estel begged. He had hardly moved for sleep, food, or any other reason for those days, and soon he, too would be Arwen's patient. He told her so.
"Very well, I shall go and speak to her. If I tell you--only if I tell you-- you may come in. If I tell you no, get to your bed and rest. Agreed?"
"You needn't look out for me. Agreed." Estel crossed his arms over his chest as Arwen disappeared back into the room. Again, he heard the hushed voices, and then Arwen came back out, looking a bit grumpy.
"I do not think it in her best interest, but she will see you. She will not tell us her name, but we call her Feanor, in your language it means spirit of fire."
"May I ask why?" Estel asked, careful with his words around this feisty creature.
"Because anything short of that and the flame would not have been rekindled. Go on then," she said, jerking her head. "Not to long, either, she's still weak." Estel strode through the door into the room. The girl, Feanor, sat on the bed in a white gown, her knees folded under her. She was very pale and sweaty. Her dark hair hung in strands and clumps around her face, her sunken eyes aged and careful guarded. Estel imagined he could see her organs she was so thin.
"Please," she said, staring at the floor, "don't look at me, sir." Estel focused instead on the floor, as the girl did.
"Are you all right?" he inquired, fearing if he spoke too loud the fragile child would shatter.
"They say I will heal," her tiny voice answered.
"How--how old are you?"
"Twelve, sir. I'll be thirteen soon." Her voice wavered. Twelve? She hardly looked eight! Estel wondered why she kept calling him 'sir'. He nearly asked, but decided instead to leave her alone, so she could rest.
"I--I'll leave you alone so you can sleep," he said, realizing how much like Elrond he sounded. He found he could not tear his eyes away from the child, so backed away until he had reached the door, and then slithered out. Once he could no longer see her, he turned.
"Are you all right, Estel? You do not look well," Elrond observed. In truth, the boy's face was nearly as pale as the girl's had been, though a bit green, and as sweaty.
"She's--she's--she's--"
"I know, it frightens us all to see children like that."
"What happened to her?" Estel managed. "Who did that to her?" His anger was rising again. "Whoever it was--"
"No, Estel," Elrond said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You must not seek revenge. What was done to her is truly sick, yes, and when she is ready she will tell you everything. Until that time, only Arwen and I will know." Estel began to protest, but again Elrond cut him off. "Do not be so hasty to hear this story, Estel, for it is her deepest secret, and when she does tell you, you will wish you did not know."
***********
That night, as he tried to sleep, Estel thought over Elrond's words.