Disclaimer: I own nothing
Emmithar: He's not ALWAYS getting into stuff that doesn't belong to him, he was an amateur. He's supposed to be sixteen. I know he didn't meet Arwen for a few more years but hey, he isn't supposed to know who he is yet, either. I'm not too good at following rules. You'll learn what happened and who did it to her, in good time. Meaning when Estel does. Why. . .you'll learn that, too. I promise you, Feanor will not die in this story. I mean, she IS mortal, so eventually she will die, but not as a thirteen-year-old. Much older, I promise. I swear on Legolas's life? Elrond. . .hmm, what does he say about those gruesome threats? I'll add that in later. Elladan was joking, of course. Ah, good guess for Feanor! Wrong, but good guess. I read "A Child Called It" and the following books--I got them in London, I had had nothing to read in Ireland and was starved for literature and had just gotten back to England. The only books at the airport (very, very small airport) that weren't trashy or boring-looking were those books. SOHCAHTOA. I do like Estel, and Arwen explains a bit in this chapter why she dislikes humans.
Is this soon enough, or should I cower in fear?
Lotholien: No, Feanor doesn't know anything about Estel, but--no, I won't spoil the BIG SURPRISE for you. Heh heh heh. . .no, the title's not from Star Trek Deep Space 9, I don't watch or like Star Trek.
JavaGlxy: Such a warm welcome! Right on, everyone does need someone. The next chapter, however, shows that you have more people to rely on than you usually think. You'll see. I do like Boromir--I like all of them. Even Arwen and Denethor, despite what he says in this chapter. I hope you'll tell me if this chapter is up to scratch?
Smeagol: I'm sorry, Fitz (and thus the ihp) do not yet exist. Feanor is quite alone--but no, she has Estel, doesn't she? She's sort of like a six- year-old, she learns incredibly quickly. There's a reason for Arwen's attitude. I'm sorry to make you want to cry. You know what a melodramatic sap I am.
*****
Hot tears poured out of Estel's eyes. Warm, salty pools formed on the pillow, filling themselves with a boy's sorrows and then overflowing. He didn't know how long he cried for, muffling his sobs, and he didn't care. When he could cry no more, his eyes itched and his throat felt raw. He hardly paid attention to the pain. Wallowing in feelings of hate and anger, riddled with flashes of self-hatred, Estel remained prone, face-down on his bed.
After a while, time was fluid and he knew not how long, he heard some small commotion outside his door. Soft footsteps, followed by heavier ones. "Leave Estel alone for a while," Estel heard Elrohir say.
"Is he all right?" A second, softer voice asked. Feanor. Estel smiled in spite of himself. Finally the girl had taken to going about on her own. Elrohir's response penetrated his skull a bit later.
"He's. . .a little upset right now. It'd be best if you gave him some space." No, Elrohir! Estel screamed in his head. Feanor would never take that the right way.
"Did I do something wrong?" Her quivering voice inquired. Estel had been right, and Feanor blamed herself. He wished he could explain to her that she had done nothing wrong, but he couldn't--didn't.
"No, no, of course not," Elrohir sounded detached. Of course, his mind was elsewhere. Feanor's soft footsteps as she walked away told Estel that she did not believe Elrohir. Elrohir didn't seem to notice. He did not knock on Estel's door, but whispered, "You know, don't you? Ada never meant to hurt you with these secrets. It was for your own protection."
"Elrohir?"
"Oh. Hi, Elladan."
"Who were you talking to?"
"Estel. Just pretending he could hear me. Saying the things he needs to know." The twins walked off together. Estel's tears came anew: it was true, it was all true, and the twins had known it all along.
*****
"Honestly, what is it that connects you to that human boy?" Arwen asked. "Why do you mope so simply because he shuts his door?"
"He's our brother," Elladan said. Elladan and Elrohir often said "our", referring to both of them at once. Arwen simply nodded and scoffed. "We love him as a brother. He's family."
Arwen sighed and continued plaiting her hair. She knew how shallow she must have seemed to her brothers. She, however, knew the hurt of loving a mortal. She didn't want that for Elladan and Elrohir. "He's stupid."
"Leave him be, Arwen. He is good at heart, and he tries," Elrohir said, then, realizing how much of an excuse that was, he added, "he has skill with a sword and a tongue for Elvish."
"Very well, I care not," she shrugged it off as she would a flea. Yet something strung inside of her. Could it be she enjoyed his company?
*****
Estel finally got himself up. He scrubbed his face until it was bright pink to remove any sign of his tears. That outburst had been uncalled-for, far too young for his sixteen years. He wondered what had brought it on, but in truth knew.
Normally, he would need to clear his head after crying. Most of the time after he cried--which was almost never--he went for a long, long walk, sometimes overnight. Elrond had never liked that much. On this night, he simply washed his face and prepared to deny everything. He had Feanor to worry about, she would be as shy, timid, and lost as a mouse in a house of cats if he wasn't there. Again, his own need to protect her startled him.
All dressed up, Estel hardly knew Feanor. He noticed how she had gained enough weight so she looked maybe a bit skinny, but pretty average. Her cheeks were pink--probably Arwen's doing--and gave her a lively look. Her lips still pouted naturally, but seeing Estel she smiled.
"It all feels so funny," she said, "being dressed up like this. I feel like a doll." This meant quite a bit to Estel. Feanor hadn't expressed any emotions at first, but now she was beginning to open up to him.
Estel laughed. "Arwen does that to people, it seems. She means well." He hoped she did, anyway. "Come, we must go greet these people."
"Who are they?"
"Denethor, steward of Gondor, and his two sons."
"D-Denethor?" Her voice broke and shook. Estel looked at her, worried.
"Is everything--"
"Fine, everything's just fine." But Estel knew better. He didn't say anything--he had learned to keep his jaw shut--but he was careful to note anything she did differently.
*****
Feanor was nervous about seeing Denethor and his sons--Boromir and Faramir, she knew their names were. No matter how many times she told Estel he had never met them, he didn't believe her. That was just as well.
All throughout the feast Estel and Feanor kept quiet. Estel stole glances at Feanor when he thought she wasn't looking, and noticed that she trembled and stared hard at her food. He hardly heard anything the boys said, until Faramir asked, "Do I know you from somewhere?"
Feanor shook her head softly. "I can't imagine where," she answered. Estel sensed her fear, but didn't mention it. Feanor didn't speak at all the rest of the evening and dashed out at the first chance she got.
*****
It was impossible to shake Faramir and Boromir. The younger wasn't so bad, he usually just sat and watched whatever was going on. Boromir, however, really got on Estel's nerves. He always wanted to participate, not in a friendly manner but in the manner of a bored child.
"Estel," Feanor said, almost pleading, laying a hand on his arm to keep him from doing anything brash. He relaxed his muscles as best he could. Finally he let out a breath and agreed to let Boromir spar with them. He went over to get a sword for Boromir.
"Listen to me," he said, quiet enough so Feanor wouldn't hear, "go easy on the girl. Don't draw her blood. Do you understand? Don't cut her skin. This is practice, not battle." Boromir nodded, but Estel didn't believe his nod. The two headed back to where Feanor was; she was practicing thrusts and twists with the blade.
The three sparred. They all took a few hits, but no blood was drawn. It was like an elaborate dance, graceful and practiced. They all knew the steps, but not the order of the steps. Boromir broke rank first, he slammed the flat of his blade hard into Feanor's side. She doubled over.
"Are you okay?" Estel asked.
"Yeah, I'll be all right," she said, drawing up to her full height. Estel signaled to Boromir to let up. Not ten minutes later, Boromir slashed across the back of Feanor's shoulder. Blood flowed, and the lacings came undone on her tunic. Estel looked angrily to Boromir. "Estel?"
"Sorry," he said meekly.
"Get out of here. Just go." Boromir and Faramir trod out of the room. Estel turned to Feanor. "I'm going to look at it, but I'll need to cut your tunic off to do so," he said. She whimpered and drew away. "Come on, you're hurt!" She stood still. Slicing at her tunic, he managed to pull it off her in five pieces.
Feanor helped him some-what, but for the most part just shivered. When he finally got the tunic off, Estel held a towel to the skin, especially where the blood was heaviest. Feanor drew in air sharply, as if he slightest touch hurt her. When the blood was mopped up, Estel pulled off the towel to bind the wound. He hardly managed to stifle a gasp.
Horrified, he wound cotton around the broken skin. When he had finished, Feanor turned to him. For the first time she looked him in the eye. She saw his horror, and adopted a look of her own. "Feanor. . .?"
She turned away and ran.
*****
Estel hardly spoke for many hours. He had to endure another meal among the company of Denethor and his sons, and took no notice of anything but Feanor's absence. His eyes stayed open, for even one second's darkness and he would see again. . .
He shuddered at the thought. Suddenly a comment made by Denethor caught his attention, and he listened to the discussion around him. Elrond and Denethor seemed to be discussing politics. "It seems that law would put many people out of a job," Elrond said levelly.
"Hard decisions must be made. If there is no king of Gondor, it is my place to make them," Denethor countered with unnecessary conviction.
"Was there no other way? Perhaps to instead pass a bill to--"
"Do you wish to tell me how to rule? No one tells me how to rule my land!" Denethor abruptly cut off Elladan.
"Elladan meant no offense," Elrond said. Elladan blushed and mumbled something in concurrance.
"What of Aragorn?" Estel asked quietly, but not so quietly that it escaped the ears of Elrond and Denethor--and everyone else. All eyes on him, he tried not to freeze up. Denethor looked angry as a dragon, Elladan and Elrohir looked amused, and Elrond looked somewhat calm yet suspicious.
"Estel? Is there something you wish to say?" Elrond asked, so as to stop Denethor from yelling at the boy.
"What of Aragorn, Denethor?" Estel asked, choked up.
"What of him? Arathorn was no great ruler, nor a great mine. His son would have most likely driven the city to ruin, only he died with his father, and no wasted souls there--"
"SHUT UP!" Estel hadn't even realized it before he had jumped to his feet, toppling his chair, and shouted. He feared, yes, that he would let the White City fall--but he would not tolerate other people, who didn't even know him, saying the same. And he certainly would not let them speak in such a way of his father. "You don't know him! You don't know Aragorn! You probably never knew Arathorn! You're just afraid that you can't live up to Arathorn--that Aragorn will come! You know he lives!"
"How could a boy--" Denethor began, but Estel wasn't about to let him finish.
"Because I am Aragorn! Because I was born to the name! Because I learn the history of our land, so one day I may rule it! Because I may never live up to my father but you may not either! I have not in fourteen years seen the White City, yet I know it has a beauty in. Not enough to change a world with, but enough to save it from such dogs." He wept as he finished, not at all ashamed now. Until, that is, he turned to see Feanor watching him.
Great waves of humility swept him. When things happened. . .like what he presumed had happened with Feanor. . .how could he defend those things? How could he claim the throne of Gondor to be rightfully his when he knew his rule would ruin the place? New tears swept him. Feanor broke their deadly embrace and ran.
"Oh, Estel," Elrond said softly. Estel shivered, then shook, then turned and ran.
Emmithar: He's not ALWAYS getting into stuff that doesn't belong to him, he was an amateur. He's supposed to be sixteen. I know he didn't meet Arwen for a few more years but hey, he isn't supposed to know who he is yet, either. I'm not too good at following rules. You'll learn what happened and who did it to her, in good time. Meaning when Estel does. Why. . .you'll learn that, too. I promise you, Feanor will not die in this story. I mean, she IS mortal, so eventually she will die, but not as a thirteen-year-old. Much older, I promise. I swear on Legolas's life? Elrond. . .hmm, what does he say about those gruesome threats? I'll add that in later. Elladan was joking, of course. Ah, good guess for Feanor! Wrong, but good guess. I read "A Child Called It" and the following books--I got them in London, I had had nothing to read in Ireland and was starved for literature and had just gotten back to England. The only books at the airport (very, very small airport) that weren't trashy or boring-looking were those books. SOHCAHTOA. I do like Estel, and Arwen explains a bit in this chapter why she dislikes humans.
Is this soon enough, or should I cower in fear?
Lotholien: No, Feanor doesn't know anything about Estel, but--no, I won't spoil the BIG SURPRISE for you. Heh heh heh. . .no, the title's not from Star Trek Deep Space 9, I don't watch or like Star Trek.
JavaGlxy: Such a warm welcome! Right on, everyone does need someone. The next chapter, however, shows that you have more people to rely on than you usually think. You'll see. I do like Boromir--I like all of them. Even Arwen and Denethor, despite what he says in this chapter. I hope you'll tell me if this chapter is up to scratch?
Smeagol: I'm sorry, Fitz (and thus the ihp) do not yet exist. Feanor is quite alone--but no, she has Estel, doesn't she? She's sort of like a six- year-old, she learns incredibly quickly. There's a reason for Arwen's attitude. I'm sorry to make you want to cry. You know what a melodramatic sap I am.
*****
Hot tears poured out of Estel's eyes. Warm, salty pools formed on the pillow, filling themselves with a boy's sorrows and then overflowing. He didn't know how long he cried for, muffling his sobs, and he didn't care. When he could cry no more, his eyes itched and his throat felt raw. He hardly paid attention to the pain. Wallowing in feelings of hate and anger, riddled with flashes of self-hatred, Estel remained prone, face-down on his bed.
After a while, time was fluid and he knew not how long, he heard some small commotion outside his door. Soft footsteps, followed by heavier ones. "Leave Estel alone for a while," Estel heard Elrohir say.
"Is he all right?" A second, softer voice asked. Feanor. Estel smiled in spite of himself. Finally the girl had taken to going about on her own. Elrohir's response penetrated his skull a bit later.
"He's. . .a little upset right now. It'd be best if you gave him some space." No, Elrohir! Estel screamed in his head. Feanor would never take that the right way.
"Did I do something wrong?" Her quivering voice inquired. Estel had been right, and Feanor blamed herself. He wished he could explain to her that she had done nothing wrong, but he couldn't--didn't.
"No, no, of course not," Elrohir sounded detached. Of course, his mind was elsewhere. Feanor's soft footsteps as she walked away told Estel that she did not believe Elrohir. Elrohir didn't seem to notice. He did not knock on Estel's door, but whispered, "You know, don't you? Ada never meant to hurt you with these secrets. It was for your own protection."
"Elrohir?"
"Oh. Hi, Elladan."
"Who were you talking to?"
"Estel. Just pretending he could hear me. Saying the things he needs to know." The twins walked off together. Estel's tears came anew: it was true, it was all true, and the twins had known it all along.
*****
"Honestly, what is it that connects you to that human boy?" Arwen asked. "Why do you mope so simply because he shuts his door?"
"He's our brother," Elladan said. Elladan and Elrohir often said "our", referring to both of them at once. Arwen simply nodded and scoffed. "We love him as a brother. He's family."
Arwen sighed and continued plaiting her hair. She knew how shallow she must have seemed to her brothers. She, however, knew the hurt of loving a mortal. She didn't want that for Elladan and Elrohir. "He's stupid."
"Leave him be, Arwen. He is good at heart, and he tries," Elrohir said, then, realizing how much of an excuse that was, he added, "he has skill with a sword and a tongue for Elvish."
"Very well, I care not," she shrugged it off as she would a flea. Yet something strung inside of her. Could it be she enjoyed his company?
*****
Estel finally got himself up. He scrubbed his face until it was bright pink to remove any sign of his tears. That outburst had been uncalled-for, far too young for his sixteen years. He wondered what had brought it on, but in truth knew.
Normally, he would need to clear his head after crying. Most of the time after he cried--which was almost never--he went for a long, long walk, sometimes overnight. Elrond had never liked that much. On this night, he simply washed his face and prepared to deny everything. He had Feanor to worry about, she would be as shy, timid, and lost as a mouse in a house of cats if he wasn't there. Again, his own need to protect her startled him.
All dressed up, Estel hardly knew Feanor. He noticed how she had gained enough weight so she looked maybe a bit skinny, but pretty average. Her cheeks were pink--probably Arwen's doing--and gave her a lively look. Her lips still pouted naturally, but seeing Estel she smiled.
"It all feels so funny," she said, "being dressed up like this. I feel like a doll." This meant quite a bit to Estel. Feanor hadn't expressed any emotions at first, but now she was beginning to open up to him.
Estel laughed. "Arwen does that to people, it seems. She means well." He hoped she did, anyway. "Come, we must go greet these people."
"Who are they?"
"Denethor, steward of Gondor, and his two sons."
"D-Denethor?" Her voice broke and shook. Estel looked at her, worried.
"Is everything--"
"Fine, everything's just fine." But Estel knew better. He didn't say anything--he had learned to keep his jaw shut--but he was careful to note anything she did differently.
*****
Feanor was nervous about seeing Denethor and his sons--Boromir and Faramir, she knew their names were. No matter how many times she told Estel he had never met them, he didn't believe her. That was just as well.
All throughout the feast Estel and Feanor kept quiet. Estel stole glances at Feanor when he thought she wasn't looking, and noticed that she trembled and stared hard at her food. He hardly heard anything the boys said, until Faramir asked, "Do I know you from somewhere?"
Feanor shook her head softly. "I can't imagine where," she answered. Estel sensed her fear, but didn't mention it. Feanor didn't speak at all the rest of the evening and dashed out at the first chance she got.
*****
It was impossible to shake Faramir and Boromir. The younger wasn't so bad, he usually just sat and watched whatever was going on. Boromir, however, really got on Estel's nerves. He always wanted to participate, not in a friendly manner but in the manner of a bored child.
"Estel," Feanor said, almost pleading, laying a hand on his arm to keep him from doing anything brash. He relaxed his muscles as best he could. Finally he let out a breath and agreed to let Boromir spar with them. He went over to get a sword for Boromir.
"Listen to me," he said, quiet enough so Feanor wouldn't hear, "go easy on the girl. Don't draw her blood. Do you understand? Don't cut her skin. This is practice, not battle." Boromir nodded, but Estel didn't believe his nod. The two headed back to where Feanor was; she was practicing thrusts and twists with the blade.
The three sparred. They all took a few hits, but no blood was drawn. It was like an elaborate dance, graceful and practiced. They all knew the steps, but not the order of the steps. Boromir broke rank first, he slammed the flat of his blade hard into Feanor's side. She doubled over.
"Are you okay?" Estel asked.
"Yeah, I'll be all right," she said, drawing up to her full height. Estel signaled to Boromir to let up. Not ten minutes later, Boromir slashed across the back of Feanor's shoulder. Blood flowed, and the lacings came undone on her tunic. Estel looked angrily to Boromir. "Estel?"
"Sorry," he said meekly.
"Get out of here. Just go." Boromir and Faramir trod out of the room. Estel turned to Feanor. "I'm going to look at it, but I'll need to cut your tunic off to do so," he said. She whimpered and drew away. "Come on, you're hurt!" She stood still. Slicing at her tunic, he managed to pull it off her in five pieces.
Feanor helped him some-what, but for the most part just shivered. When he finally got the tunic off, Estel held a towel to the skin, especially where the blood was heaviest. Feanor drew in air sharply, as if he slightest touch hurt her. When the blood was mopped up, Estel pulled off the towel to bind the wound. He hardly managed to stifle a gasp.
Horrified, he wound cotton around the broken skin. When he had finished, Feanor turned to him. For the first time she looked him in the eye. She saw his horror, and adopted a look of her own. "Feanor. . .?"
She turned away and ran.
*****
Estel hardly spoke for many hours. He had to endure another meal among the company of Denethor and his sons, and took no notice of anything but Feanor's absence. His eyes stayed open, for even one second's darkness and he would see again. . .
He shuddered at the thought. Suddenly a comment made by Denethor caught his attention, and he listened to the discussion around him. Elrond and Denethor seemed to be discussing politics. "It seems that law would put many people out of a job," Elrond said levelly.
"Hard decisions must be made. If there is no king of Gondor, it is my place to make them," Denethor countered with unnecessary conviction.
"Was there no other way? Perhaps to instead pass a bill to--"
"Do you wish to tell me how to rule? No one tells me how to rule my land!" Denethor abruptly cut off Elladan.
"Elladan meant no offense," Elrond said. Elladan blushed and mumbled something in concurrance.
"What of Aragorn?" Estel asked quietly, but not so quietly that it escaped the ears of Elrond and Denethor--and everyone else. All eyes on him, he tried not to freeze up. Denethor looked angry as a dragon, Elladan and Elrohir looked amused, and Elrond looked somewhat calm yet suspicious.
"Estel? Is there something you wish to say?" Elrond asked, so as to stop Denethor from yelling at the boy.
"What of Aragorn, Denethor?" Estel asked, choked up.
"What of him? Arathorn was no great ruler, nor a great mine. His son would have most likely driven the city to ruin, only he died with his father, and no wasted souls there--"
"SHUT UP!" Estel hadn't even realized it before he had jumped to his feet, toppling his chair, and shouted. He feared, yes, that he would let the White City fall--but he would not tolerate other people, who didn't even know him, saying the same. And he certainly would not let them speak in such a way of his father. "You don't know him! You don't know Aragorn! You probably never knew Arathorn! You're just afraid that you can't live up to Arathorn--that Aragorn will come! You know he lives!"
"How could a boy--" Denethor began, but Estel wasn't about to let him finish.
"Because I am Aragorn! Because I was born to the name! Because I learn the history of our land, so one day I may rule it! Because I may never live up to my father but you may not either! I have not in fourteen years seen the White City, yet I know it has a beauty in. Not enough to change a world with, but enough to save it from such dogs." He wept as he finished, not at all ashamed now. Until, that is, he turned to see Feanor watching him.
Great waves of humility swept him. When things happened. . .like what he presumed had happened with Feanor. . .how could he defend those things? How could he claim the throne of Gondor to be rightfully his when he knew his rule would ruin the place? New tears swept him. Feanor broke their deadly embrace and ran.
"Oh, Estel," Elrond said softly. Estel shivered, then shook, then turned and ran.