DISCLAIMER: See Prologue.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A big thanks again to my reviewers: PoppySeed, aragog, Fay and hobbitsrfun. Keep 'em coming!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER THREE: ILLNESS AND INJURIES
"My sweet baby!" Gilraen whispered to the slumbering child in her arms, holding him more fiercely against her body, like a blanket of maternal love. Tears filed her hazelnut eyes as she remembered how close she had come to losing him today.
"Gilraen?" Elrond opened the door slightly, slipping into Estel's bedroom, after having changed into dry (and not torn) robes. "How is he?"
"He almost died today!" The woman cried, letting the child slip from her arms and onto his bed. A sob rose in her throat, soon encompassing her entire body.
Elrond draped a comforting arm around the young woman, brushing a dark hair away from her face. "But he is safe now. Do not torture yourself by worrying about what might have happened. Estel is safe now, although he may require several days bed rest." The elf-lord sighed. "If it should ease your heart, Gilraen, I can concoct a tonic that will rob the memory of today Estel from Estel's mind."
"Like a sort of amnesia?" She asked. Elrond nodded. Turning to cast a lingering look at the child who lay in peaceful slumber, she sighed. "Do it, please. I do not want the memory of today to scar him like it has me."
With a nod, the elf-lord turned swiftly and strode down the hallway towards the apothecary, leaving mother and child alone again.
"Amme?" His voice was like a whisper, barely audible above the gentle breeze that whistled outside. "Ada?"
Bending to kiss her son's brow, Gilraen sighed. "Your Ada has gone to make you a tonic. It will make you feel much better."
"My head hurts, Amme," Estel whimpered, burrowing into his mother's warm, comforting embrace. A violent cough wracked his tiny form, reverberating through his mother as she clutched her only child fiercely, rocking him and humming a soothing lullaby. His eyelid slipped over bleary sea-grey eyes, as Gilraen grazed a thumb over the curve of his cheek.
Opening the door, Elrond glided into the room, carrying a bronze goblet that gleamed in the light on the enduring fire. He smiled at his foster- son, relief flooding through his veins. Setting the goblet on a table, he knelt beside the bed.
"Ada, I feel ill." Another cough, more intense than the last, spluttered from the child. Elrond ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, before fetching the goblet and tilting it to Estel's lips. The boy swallowed gratefully. Removing the goblet, Elrond dabbed at the pink liquid dribbling down his foster-son's chin. Sleep soon overcame the boy.
"He will have no memory of what happened today," Elrond assured Gilraen, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "Come; let him sleep off this sickness." After ensuring her child was comfortably tucked in, Gilraen kissed his cheek, before following the elf-lord to the kitchen for a much needed brandy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Elrond shook his head disdainfully. "Estel, really! Another cold! You have to take better care of yourself!" He lay a cool hand on the young man's feverish brow, before dabbing at the heated flesh with a damp cloth.
"I do try, Ada!" The young man sneezed, burrowing deeper into the sheets of his bed, and resting his head on the pillow.
"Here, drink this." Elrond handed his human son a silver goblet filled with a viscous, green liquid. The man accepted it reluctantly, his face contouring into a wave of disgust as the acrid tasting tonic slid down his throat. Dropping the goblet with a clang, his sea-grey eyes fluttered shut, his breathing growing more shallow. A strangled cough escaped his lips before he slid into the throes of slumber.
"Quel kaima, nin ion," he whispered, sweeping a stray hair from Aragorn's face. "May you find healing in your slumber."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lord Elrond was startled out of his reverie by a sharp knock on his study door. Rolling up the parchment he had been reading, he called, "Minno."
Erestor threw open the door, his hair in disarray, struggling to regain his breath. "Hir-nîn! A party of travellers have arrived from Lorien!"
Elrond leapt to his feet, racing along the corridor and down the stairs, taking them two at a time, breath fleeing his lungs. Could she be one of the arrivals? His heart pounding in anticipation, he rushed to the balcony, furtively scanning the crowd in the courtyard below.
"ADA!" The joyous cry was like the sweetest music to his ears.
"Arwen!" He cried. A smile on her lips, the dark-haired elf maiden sprinted across the courtyard, pushing her escorts aside as she hurried into her father's open arms. Elrond embraced his daughter, brushing kisses to her brow, her hair, cradling her like he had when she was a child. "This is a pleasant surprise, nin-iell," Elrond said, regaining his composure. "How long has it been?"
Arwen smiled. "Ninety-seven years, five months and twelve days." She replied breathlessly. "What has happened in my absence? Tell me absolutely everything!"
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Elrond led his daughter in from the harsh to cold the inviting warmth of the house. "Well..."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Aragorn groaned as the milky sunlight filtered through the translucent curtains of his chamber, rousing him from a peaceful slumber. Grinding a fist into his eye, he sat up and yawned, stretching his tired muscles. His stomach rumbled gently, crying out for the breakfast he could smell, filling the corridors. His mouth watered at the thought: fresh bacon, boiled eggs, herbal teas and toasted bread smothered in fruit jam.
Hastily dressing, he threw on the clothing that had been laid out (by his mother, no doubt) on a chair beside the window. Tugging at the curtain, he pulled them open, gasping at the whiteness that lay before him.
"Snow!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The dining hall was unusually crowded this morning. Aragorn noted the presence of several unfamiliar elves seated at the tables. With a shrug, he took his seat between Glorfindel and Erestor at the head table.
He inquired about the newcomers. Glorfindel smiled, and replied, "'Tis the escort of Lady Arwen. She returned from the woods of Lothlorien but yesterday."
"Arwen..." Aragorn mused through a mouthful of toast. The name sounded familiar, rolling easily off his tongue. "She is Elrond's daughter, is she not?"
"That is correct," Erestor said with a nod.
"So, do I get to meet her?" Aragorn asked.
"Later, Estel. Later," a voice from behind replied. The man turned to face his foster-father. "When you are finished eating, could you possibly fetch her for me? She will probably be in the old rose garden."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Traversing the gardens at a leisurely pace, Aragorn stared at the beauty around him. Such a wondrous time of year...
Turning towards the old rose garden, the young man hesitated as something - or someone - caught his eye. A lone figure, cloaked in black, stood by the banks of the frozen lake, her dark hair billowing in the wind. There was something... eerily familiar about her.
Descending the slope, Aragorn watched her intently. She appeared to have not noticed his presence, so enraptured she was in her own thoughts. Huddling into her cloak, she shivered, mouthing something to herself as she clasped her hands together in prayer.
Suddenly, she looked up, meeting his eyes, a smile on her rose-coloured lips. Aragorn blushed, but embarrassment soon melted to amazement. Memories of a little girl, a girl who looked exactly like she who stood before him filled his mind. A name sprang to his lips. "Ismene!"
Her smile faded, as she stiffened, horror flashing in her eyes. Without warning, she burst into a run, vanishing into the woods.
"Ismene, tolad enni!" He cried, chasing her. "Tolad enni!"
But still she ran, not heeding his calls, his pleas. Breath fleeing her lungs, she darted throughout the bare trees, before...
"Ai!" Her shriek filled the chill air as she tumbled down an unseen slope, rolling uncontrollably before coming to a stop, a groan escaping her lips.
"Ismene, are you hurt?" He asked, sliding down after her; but she recoiled, terror evident in her tourmaline eyes.
"Kela!" She cried. "Kela!"
"Ismene, surely you recognise me?" He said, yet he was unable to recall where he knew this maiden from, and how he knew her name.
"My name is not Ismene!" She protested, inching away.
Aragorn turned scarlet. "Oh, my lady, I am so sorry! Are you hurt?" The elf- maiden shook her head, although he could clearly she her swollen ankle - it was probably a sprain. "Here, take me hand." She accepted it gratefully, as he unsteadily pulled her to her feet.
"Who are you?" She asked, sweeping snow off her cloak.
He bowed his head respectfully. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
A smile crossed her lips. "You are the one they call Estel, am I right?" At his nod, she replied, "Then I am glad to meet you, Aragorn. I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond."
Aragorn stared incredulously, feeling himself becoming lost in her beautiful eyes. She was fairer than any stories he had heard about her could possibly describe. "I am truly sorry, my lady," he stammered, looking away; but she lifted his head and met his gaze.
"I am not angry at you, son of Arathorn," she said, her voice like the song of a harp being plucked by nimble fingers. "However, I would be very grateful if you did not relay his incident to my father."
"You have my word, Ada will never know of this," the young man replied solenmly, briefly wondering why she was so concerned. "But now, we should concentrate on getting you back to the house. Can you walk?"
She nodded, her dark swaying gently. "Yes, I think." However, when she tried to climb the hill she had fallen down, she tumbled to the ground. "On second thoughts, could you possibly help me?"
Without warning, Aragorn swept the elf-maiden into his arms, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfect alabaster skin, amazed at her lightness. "I will carry you."
"Just be careful, and do not drop me! I do not want any more injuries!" She quipped, and their laughter echoed in the woods. "I was being serious," she said, which only elicited more hysterics from the two.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:
Quel kaima = Sleep well.
Minno = Enter
Hir-nin = My lord
Tolad enni = Come back
Kela = Go away
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A big thanks again to my reviewers: PoppySeed, aragog, Fay and hobbitsrfun. Keep 'em coming!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER THREE: ILLNESS AND INJURIES
"My sweet baby!" Gilraen whispered to the slumbering child in her arms, holding him more fiercely against her body, like a blanket of maternal love. Tears filed her hazelnut eyes as she remembered how close she had come to losing him today.
"Gilraen?" Elrond opened the door slightly, slipping into Estel's bedroom, after having changed into dry (and not torn) robes. "How is he?"
"He almost died today!" The woman cried, letting the child slip from her arms and onto his bed. A sob rose in her throat, soon encompassing her entire body.
Elrond draped a comforting arm around the young woman, brushing a dark hair away from her face. "But he is safe now. Do not torture yourself by worrying about what might have happened. Estel is safe now, although he may require several days bed rest." The elf-lord sighed. "If it should ease your heart, Gilraen, I can concoct a tonic that will rob the memory of today Estel from Estel's mind."
"Like a sort of amnesia?" She asked. Elrond nodded. Turning to cast a lingering look at the child who lay in peaceful slumber, she sighed. "Do it, please. I do not want the memory of today to scar him like it has me."
With a nod, the elf-lord turned swiftly and strode down the hallway towards the apothecary, leaving mother and child alone again.
"Amme?" His voice was like a whisper, barely audible above the gentle breeze that whistled outside. "Ada?"
Bending to kiss her son's brow, Gilraen sighed. "Your Ada has gone to make you a tonic. It will make you feel much better."
"My head hurts, Amme," Estel whimpered, burrowing into his mother's warm, comforting embrace. A violent cough wracked his tiny form, reverberating through his mother as she clutched her only child fiercely, rocking him and humming a soothing lullaby. His eyelid slipped over bleary sea-grey eyes, as Gilraen grazed a thumb over the curve of his cheek.
Opening the door, Elrond glided into the room, carrying a bronze goblet that gleamed in the light on the enduring fire. He smiled at his foster- son, relief flooding through his veins. Setting the goblet on a table, he knelt beside the bed.
"Ada, I feel ill." Another cough, more intense than the last, spluttered from the child. Elrond ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, before fetching the goblet and tilting it to Estel's lips. The boy swallowed gratefully. Removing the goblet, Elrond dabbed at the pink liquid dribbling down his foster-son's chin. Sleep soon overcame the boy.
"He will have no memory of what happened today," Elrond assured Gilraen, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "Come; let him sleep off this sickness." After ensuring her child was comfortably tucked in, Gilraen kissed his cheek, before following the elf-lord to the kitchen for a much needed brandy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Elrond shook his head disdainfully. "Estel, really! Another cold! You have to take better care of yourself!" He lay a cool hand on the young man's feverish brow, before dabbing at the heated flesh with a damp cloth.
"I do try, Ada!" The young man sneezed, burrowing deeper into the sheets of his bed, and resting his head on the pillow.
"Here, drink this." Elrond handed his human son a silver goblet filled with a viscous, green liquid. The man accepted it reluctantly, his face contouring into a wave of disgust as the acrid tasting tonic slid down his throat. Dropping the goblet with a clang, his sea-grey eyes fluttered shut, his breathing growing more shallow. A strangled cough escaped his lips before he slid into the throes of slumber.
"Quel kaima, nin ion," he whispered, sweeping a stray hair from Aragorn's face. "May you find healing in your slumber."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lord Elrond was startled out of his reverie by a sharp knock on his study door. Rolling up the parchment he had been reading, he called, "Minno."
Erestor threw open the door, his hair in disarray, struggling to regain his breath. "Hir-nîn! A party of travellers have arrived from Lorien!"
Elrond leapt to his feet, racing along the corridor and down the stairs, taking them two at a time, breath fleeing his lungs. Could she be one of the arrivals? His heart pounding in anticipation, he rushed to the balcony, furtively scanning the crowd in the courtyard below.
"ADA!" The joyous cry was like the sweetest music to his ears.
"Arwen!" He cried. A smile on her lips, the dark-haired elf maiden sprinted across the courtyard, pushing her escorts aside as she hurried into her father's open arms. Elrond embraced his daughter, brushing kisses to her brow, her hair, cradling her like he had when she was a child. "This is a pleasant surprise, nin-iell," Elrond said, regaining his composure. "How long has it been?"
Arwen smiled. "Ninety-seven years, five months and twelve days." She replied breathlessly. "What has happened in my absence? Tell me absolutely everything!"
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Elrond led his daughter in from the harsh to cold the inviting warmth of the house. "Well..."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Aragorn groaned as the milky sunlight filtered through the translucent curtains of his chamber, rousing him from a peaceful slumber. Grinding a fist into his eye, he sat up and yawned, stretching his tired muscles. His stomach rumbled gently, crying out for the breakfast he could smell, filling the corridors. His mouth watered at the thought: fresh bacon, boiled eggs, herbal teas and toasted bread smothered in fruit jam.
Hastily dressing, he threw on the clothing that had been laid out (by his mother, no doubt) on a chair beside the window. Tugging at the curtain, he pulled them open, gasping at the whiteness that lay before him.
"Snow!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The dining hall was unusually crowded this morning. Aragorn noted the presence of several unfamiliar elves seated at the tables. With a shrug, he took his seat between Glorfindel and Erestor at the head table.
He inquired about the newcomers. Glorfindel smiled, and replied, "'Tis the escort of Lady Arwen. She returned from the woods of Lothlorien but yesterday."
"Arwen..." Aragorn mused through a mouthful of toast. The name sounded familiar, rolling easily off his tongue. "She is Elrond's daughter, is she not?"
"That is correct," Erestor said with a nod.
"So, do I get to meet her?" Aragorn asked.
"Later, Estel. Later," a voice from behind replied. The man turned to face his foster-father. "When you are finished eating, could you possibly fetch her for me? She will probably be in the old rose garden."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Traversing the gardens at a leisurely pace, Aragorn stared at the beauty around him. Such a wondrous time of year...
Turning towards the old rose garden, the young man hesitated as something - or someone - caught his eye. A lone figure, cloaked in black, stood by the banks of the frozen lake, her dark hair billowing in the wind. There was something... eerily familiar about her.
Descending the slope, Aragorn watched her intently. She appeared to have not noticed his presence, so enraptured she was in her own thoughts. Huddling into her cloak, she shivered, mouthing something to herself as she clasped her hands together in prayer.
Suddenly, she looked up, meeting his eyes, a smile on her rose-coloured lips. Aragorn blushed, but embarrassment soon melted to amazement. Memories of a little girl, a girl who looked exactly like she who stood before him filled his mind. A name sprang to his lips. "Ismene!"
Her smile faded, as she stiffened, horror flashing in her eyes. Without warning, she burst into a run, vanishing into the woods.
"Ismene, tolad enni!" He cried, chasing her. "Tolad enni!"
But still she ran, not heeding his calls, his pleas. Breath fleeing her lungs, she darted throughout the bare trees, before...
"Ai!" Her shriek filled the chill air as she tumbled down an unseen slope, rolling uncontrollably before coming to a stop, a groan escaping her lips.
"Ismene, are you hurt?" He asked, sliding down after her; but she recoiled, terror evident in her tourmaline eyes.
"Kela!" She cried. "Kela!"
"Ismene, surely you recognise me?" He said, yet he was unable to recall where he knew this maiden from, and how he knew her name.
"My name is not Ismene!" She protested, inching away.
Aragorn turned scarlet. "Oh, my lady, I am so sorry! Are you hurt?" The elf- maiden shook her head, although he could clearly she her swollen ankle - it was probably a sprain. "Here, take me hand." She accepted it gratefully, as he unsteadily pulled her to her feet.
"Who are you?" She asked, sweeping snow off her cloak.
He bowed his head respectfully. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
A smile crossed her lips. "You are the one they call Estel, am I right?" At his nod, she replied, "Then I am glad to meet you, Aragorn. I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond."
Aragorn stared incredulously, feeling himself becoming lost in her beautiful eyes. She was fairer than any stories he had heard about her could possibly describe. "I am truly sorry, my lady," he stammered, looking away; but she lifted his head and met his gaze.
"I am not angry at you, son of Arathorn," she said, her voice like the song of a harp being plucked by nimble fingers. "However, I would be very grateful if you did not relay his incident to my father."
"You have my word, Ada will never know of this," the young man replied solenmly, briefly wondering why she was so concerned. "But now, we should concentrate on getting you back to the house. Can you walk?"
She nodded, her dark swaying gently. "Yes, I think." However, when she tried to climb the hill she had fallen down, she tumbled to the ground. "On second thoughts, could you possibly help me?"
Without warning, Aragorn swept the elf-maiden into his arms, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfect alabaster skin, amazed at her lightness. "I will carry you."
"Just be careful, and do not drop me! I do not want any more injuries!" She quipped, and their laughter echoed in the woods. "I was being serious," she said, which only elicited more hysterics from the two.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:
Quel kaima = Sleep well.
Minno = Enter
Hir-nin = My lord
Tolad enni = Come back
Kela = Go away