DISCLAIMER: See previous chapters.
SPECIAL MENTIONS: Thanks to my latest batch of reviewers: Arwen, arabella thorne, Midnight Dove, Hoshi Tamamushiirono, Kaz, Exiled-Knight, A. Spencer, Sammy, Melissa Jooty, aragog, Songbreeze Swifteye and Manders- chan. I've been completely blown away by your support!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER SIX: BRAIN FEVER
"Let's play!" Ismene giggled, pulling the young man to his feet and brushing the snow off his back.
Dazed, his vision blurred, Estel stood shakily, trying to clear the fog that had wrapped itself around his mind. "Ismene?"
The little elfling nodded cheerfully, pointing in the direction of the lake. "Come with me, Estel, mellon amin. There is much to do."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Arwen's eyes snapped open from a particularly vivid dream, and she sat up, surprised that she had dozed off on the couch. Such a curious dream... Only snatches of it lingered in her memory, but the essence remained.
Ismene... The little girl's name echoed in her mind. It had been centuries beyond count since Arwen had watched helplessly as the child was pulled, unconscious, from the frozen pond; yet still, the pain remained raw in heart. It was as though a fistful of salt had been ground into the searing wound that caused her very soul to cry out in agony.
Standing, she crossed her chamber and gazed out over the pristine blanket of frozen, powdery whiteness that adorned the once lush gardens of Imladris. She sighed; beauty existed even the bleak and bitter midwinter.
From the shadows of the House, a figure emerged into the serene landscape. Arwen felt her heart begin to flutter as Estel crossed the snow-covered grass, wandering about the gardens. Bathed in the light of moon, dressed in fine Elven robes that seemed to hang uncomfortably about his Human shoulders, Arwen sensed something around him; a growing discontent of this elven life he had been leading. If her intuition was correct, what he longed for was the freedom that he had tasted in his short time as Ranger - a freedom she almost wished would not be granted in the near future - after all, she had only just met the young man, and would like to get to know him better.
Sapphire eyes glittering the candlelight, she watched him stride towards the rowan, and stop abruptly. It was almost as if he was waiting for something. The next sight that greeted Arwen caused her heart to plummet into her stomach.
From the clear evening sky, a bolt of lightning pierced the tree, snapping off a branch; a branch that slammed into Estel's skull.
"ESTEL!" She shrieked, her blood turning to ice.
Without thinking, she darted down the hallway, running to the gardens were he lay unconscious upon a bed of snow. Then, echoing in her mind, she heard the eerily familiar voice that sent icicles down her spine. "Now he is mine!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was not without curiosity that Estel trudged behind the skipping elfling, his footprints leaving indents in the pristine blanket of white that lay about him. Dressed all in blue, Ismene looked like a sprite as she danced along the path. Now, she was singing another song, one Estel was very familiar with: the Lay of Luthien. The tale was beginning to resemble his life, he thought. A mortal man falling in the love with the fairest elf- maiden of her day.
"Why do you think of her still?" Ismene asked, stopping so that she could turn to face him.
"Think of who?"
"Arwen," she answered simply, unfazed by the incredulous look that crossed the young man's face. "She will never love you like you love her. Have you not already seen that? You are her friend; just her friend. But you are *my* best friend!" She smiled. "And I love you!"
Before Estel could protest, she skipped towards him, pulling him down to her eye-level and planting a sticky kiss on his cheek. "We can be friends forever!"
"Ismene..." he asked, extracting himself from the child's embrace. "Where are we?"
"My world, silly!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The hour was growing late, and Aragorn had not arrived for his arranged meeting with Elrond. The elf-lord shook his head in disdain. It was unlike the young human to be this late; in fact, he was renowned for his punctuality. Sinking into a chair beside the fire that bathed his study in a soft orange glow, he sighed, and rubbed his forehead soothingly. Perhaps he should take advantage of this delay, and practice what he would say to Aragorn.
At the sound of footsteps, the elf-lord rose. Opening his study door and peering into the hallway, he called to the woman who was descending the stairs. "Gilraen, have you seen your son?"
"No," she replied, her voice laced with sudden worry. "Why? Is something wrong, Elrond?"
"I do not think so," he said, leaning against the door frame. "I had planned to talk with him, but he has not arrived. I was wondering if you had seen him at all in the last few hours."
"Not since dinner."
Elrond frowned. "Perhaps he is in his chamber. Let us check there." The elf- lord strode along the corridor, followed quickly by Gilraen. He turned a corner, and found himself pushed to the ground but his near-hysterical daughter.
"Arwen, what in the name of Eru is wrong?" He gasped, pulling her to her feet.
A waterfall of tears cascaded down her face. "Estel! He is hurt!"
"WHAT?" Gilraen grasped a nearby tabled for support. "How? Where? Is he all right?" She demanded.
"Follow me," she choked, bursting into a run, as her father and Aragorn's mother raced after the elf-maiden.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Your world?"
The little girl nodded, a coy smile playing on her lips. "You will love it here, Estel, because it is *always* winter! We can build snow-elves and have snowball fights all day long, and we can go skating - but that is not all that important. What matters is that we will always be together!"
The young man backed away. "You are crazy! Let me go now!"
Her lower lip trembled. "Do you not want to be my friend?" She sank to the ground, burying her head in her knees as violent sobs wracked her slender physique.
Feeling immensely guilty, Estel knelt down beside the child and rubbed her back soothingly. "Are you all right, Ismene?"
"No," she sobbed. "Everyone liked Arwen better than me, all because she was prettier and smarter. No-one liked Ismene. All the children wanted to Arwen's friend, not Ismene's friend. They told her that she was not good enough, that they liked Arwen better."
"At least you grew up around other children," Estel whispered. "I had no- one."
"You had me," she said, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her dress. "Stay with me, Estel." Ismene grabbed his hand. "We can be friends forever; forever!"
"Child, you must understand," he said with a sigh. "I have a home to return to, with people who love me and need me. I have to return to them. Can you not let me go? Surely you have a family who love you too?"
"They locked me in a box," she whimpered standing. "I kicked and screamed to get out, but they did not listen. They buried the box in the earth, and erected a statue to guard me. They did not love me." Ismene turned to the young human with haunting eyes. "But you set me free. You wished for a friend, and I came."
Suddenly, as Estel's eyes fluttered shut, a wave of memories struck him. He was powerless against the violent current.
Water; icy cold water. He felt the breath flee his lungs as he struggled for air, flaying his arms wildly. Ismene stood on the ice above, watching him with a sadistic smile as he tried to propel himself to the surface - but the more he swam, the farther away it seemed to be. The cold gnawed at his limbs, like a ravenous death chewing on a bone.
"Soon, you will be mine!" Ismene giggled. "And we will be together always."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Will he be all right?" Gilraen's voice was barely audible over the howls of the wind and her own strangled sobs as she squeezed her son's hand as he lay sprawled on a bed of snow.
Elrond and Arwen were bent over the unconscious human, wary of his arms as he thrashed violently in his coma-state. Arwen lifted his head from the pool of crimson, into her lap, not caring that his blood tainted her dress. What use was a dress when her heart seemed to cry out in an agony even more powerful than anything she could have ever imagined.
Erestor and Glorfindel stood awkwardly in the background, knowing that there was little they could do, except keep away the crowd of elves who had gathered to see what all this commotion was about.
"Gilraen, I cannot lie to you," the elf-lord said with an inadvertent sigh. "Estel's head injury is superficial, so you need not worry." Elrond looked away to hide the tears in his eyes. "But his condition perplexes me. I can only assume that he is suffering from some sort of brain-fever."
Arwen gasped. "Brain fever? But that means..."
"What?" Gilraen pressed. "What does it mean? Elrond?" She turned to the elf- lord, one hand smoothing her son's flyaway hair, a pleading look in her eyes.
Elrond's voice was hard as stone. "In his unconscious state, Estel is at risk from violent nightmares. If he is at all injured - or even worse - killed in this state," he swallowed, feeling his throat begin to constrict as hot tears stung his eyes, "Estel will die in real life."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For all you mathematicians out there, here's a little equation:
AUTHOR + CLIFFHANGER = SATAN.
Until the next chapter! Ooh, I *love* being evil.
SPECIAL MENTIONS: Thanks to my latest batch of reviewers: Arwen, arabella thorne, Midnight Dove, Hoshi Tamamushiirono, Kaz, Exiled-Knight, A. Spencer, Sammy, Melissa Jooty, aragog, Songbreeze Swifteye and Manders- chan. I've been completely blown away by your support!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER SIX: BRAIN FEVER
"Let's play!" Ismene giggled, pulling the young man to his feet and brushing the snow off his back.
Dazed, his vision blurred, Estel stood shakily, trying to clear the fog that had wrapped itself around his mind. "Ismene?"
The little elfling nodded cheerfully, pointing in the direction of the lake. "Come with me, Estel, mellon amin. There is much to do."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Arwen's eyes snapped open from a particularly vivid dream, and she sat up, surprised that she had dozed off on the couch. Such a curious dream... Only snatches of it lingered in her memory, but the essence remained.
Ismene... The little girl's name echoed in her mind. It had been centuries beyond count since Arwen had watched helplessly as the child was pulled, unconscious, from the frozen pond; yet still, the pain remained raw in heart. It was as though a fistful of salt had been ground into the searing wound that caused her very soul to cry out in agony.
Standing, she crossed her chamber and gazed out over the pristine blanket of frozen, powdery whiteness that adorned the once lush gardens of Imladris. She sighed; beauty existed even the bleak and bitter midwinter.
From the shadows of the House, a figure emerged into the serene landscape. Arwen felt her heart begin to flutter as Estel crossed the snow-covered grass, wandering about the gardens. Bathed in the light of moon, dressed in fine Elven robes that seemed to hang uncomfortably about his Human shoulders, Arwen sensed something around him; a growing discontent of this elven life he had been leading. If her intuition was correct, what he longed for was the freedom that he had tasted in his short time as Ranger - a freedom she almost wished would not be granted in the near future - after all, she had only just met the young man, and would like to get to know him better.
Sapphire eyes glittering the candlelight, she watched him stride towards the rowan, and stop abruptly. It was almost as if he was waiting for something. The next sight that greeted Arwen caused her heart to plummet into her stomach.
From the clear evening sky, a bolt of lightning pierced the tree, snapping off a branch; a branch that slammed into Estel's skull.
"ESTEL!" She shrieked, her blood turning to ice.
Without thinking, she darted down the hallway, running to the gardens were he lay unconscious upon a bed of snow. Then, echoing in her mind, she heard the eerily familiar voice that sent icicles down her spine. "Now he is mine!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was not without curiosity that Estel trudged behind the skipping elfling, his footprints leaving indents in the pristine blanket of white that lay about him. Dressed all in blue, Ismene looked like a sprite as she danced along the path. Now, she was singing another song, one Estel was very familiar with: the Lay of Luthien. The tale was beginning to resemble his life, he thought. A mortal man falling in the love with the fairest elf- maiden of her day.
"Why do you think of her still?" Ismene asked, stopping so that she could turn to face him.
"Think of who?"
"Arwen," she answered simply, unfazed by the incredulous look that crossed the young man's face. "She will never love you like you love her. Have you not already seen that? You are her friend; just her friend. But you are *my* best friend!" She smiled. "And I love you!"
Before Estel could protest, she skipped towards him, pulling him down to her eye-level and planting a sticky kiss on his cheek. "We can be friends forever!"
"Ismene..." he asked, extracting himself from the child's embrace. "Where are we?"
"My world, silly!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The hour was growing late, and Aragorn had not arrived for his arranged meeting with Elrond. The elf-lord shook his head in disdain. It was unlike the young human to be this late; in fact, he was renowned for his punctuality. Sinking into a chair beside the fire that bathed his study in a soft orange glow, he sighed, and rubbed his forehead soothingly. Perhaps he should take advantage of this delay, and practice what he would say to Aragorn.
At the sound of footsteps, the elf-lord rose. Opening his study door and peering into the hallway, he called to the woman who was descending the stairs. "Gilraen, have you seen your son?"
"No," she replied, her voice laced with sudden worry. "Why? Is something wrong, Elrond?"
"I do not think so," he said, leaning against the door frame. "I had planned to talk with him, but he has not arrived. I was wondering if you had seen him at all in the last few hours."
"Not since dinner."
Elrond frowned. "Perhaps he is in his chamber. Let us check there." The elf- lord strode along the corridor, followed quickly by Gilraen. He turned a corner, and found himself pushed to the ground but his near-hysterical daughter.
"Arwen, what in the name of Eru is wrong?" He gasped, pulling her to her feet.
A waterfall of tears cascaded down her face. "Estel! He is hurt!"
"WHAT?" Gilraen grasped a nearby tabled for support. "How? Where? Is he all right?" She demanded.
"Follow me," she choked, bursting into a run, as her father and Aragorn's mother raced after the elf-maiden.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Your world?"
The little girl nodded, a coy smile playing on her lips. "You will love it here, Estel, because it is *always* winter! We can build snow-elves and have snowball fights all day long, and we can go skating - but that is not all that important. What matters is that we will always be together!"
The young man backed away. "You are crazy! Let me go now!"
Her lower lip trembled. "Do you not want to be my friend?" She sank to the ground, burying her head in her knees as violent sobs wracked her slender physique.
Feeling immensely guilty, Estel knelt down beside the child and rubbed her back soothingly. "Are you all right, Ismene?"
"No," she sobbed. "Everyone liked Arwen better than me, all because she was prettier and smarter. No-one liked Ismene. All the children wanted to Arwen's friend, not Ismene's friend. They told her that she was not good enough, that they liked Arwen better."
"At least you grew up around other children," Estel whispered. "I had no- one."
"You had me," she said, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her dress. "Stay with me, Estel." Ismene grabbed his hand. "We can be friends forever; forever!"
"Child, you must understand," he said with a sigh. "I have a home to return to, with people who love me and need me. I have to return to them. Can you not let me go? Surely you have a family who love you too?"
"They locked me in a box," she whimpered standing. "I kicked and screamed to get out, but they did not listen. They buried the box in the earth, and erected a statue to guard me. They did not love me." Ismene turned to the young human with haunting eyes. "But you set me free. You wished for a friend, and I came."
Suddenly, as Estel's eyes fluttered shut, a wave of memories struck him. He was powerless against the violent current.
Water; icy cold water. He felt the breath flee his lungs as he struggled for air, flaying his arms wildly. Ismene stood on the ice above, watching him with a sadistic smile as he tried to propel himself to the surface - but the more he swam, the farther away it seemed to be. The cold gnawed at his limbs, like a ravenous death chewing on a bone.
"Soon, you will be mine!" Ismene giggled. "And we will be together always."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Will he be all right?" Gilraen's voice was barely audible over the howls of the wind and her own strangled sobs as she squeezed her son's hand as he lay sprawled on a bed of snow.
Elrond and Arwen were bent over the unconscious human, wary of his arms as he thrashed violently in his coma-state. Arwen lifted his head from the pool of crimson, into her lap, not caring that his blood tainted her dress. What use was a dress when her heart seemed to cry out in an agony even more powerful than anything she could have ever imagined.
Erestor and Glorfindel stood awkwardly in the background, knowing that there was little they could do, except keep away the crowd of elves who had gathered to see what all this commotion was about.
"Gilraen, I cannot lie to you," the elf-lord said with an inadvertent sigh. "Estel's head injury is superficial, so you need not worry." Elrond looked away to hide the tears in his eyes. "But his condition perplexes me. I can only assume that he is suffering from some sort of brain-fever."
Arwen gasped. "Brain fever? But that means..."
"What?" Gilraen pressed. "What does it mean? Elrond?" She turned to the elf- lord, one hand smoothing her son's flyaway hair, a pleading look in her eyes.
Elrond's voice was hard as stone. "In his unconscious state, Estel is at risk from violent nightmares. If he is at all injured - or even worse - killed in this state," he swallowed, feeling his throat begin to constrict as hot tears stung his eyes, "Estel will die in real life."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For all you mathematicians out there, here's a little equation:
AUTHOR + CLIFFHANGER = SATAN.
Until the next chapter! Ooh, I *love* being evil.