Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: At the time of Bilbo's arrival at Rivendell during "The Hobbit", Estel would have been 10 years old. The line "the hands of the king are the hands of a healer" is taken from RotK, the line which Ioreth speaks while she blabbers to her cousin. Once again, my Glorfindel is reincarnated Glorfindel.
Much thanks to people like Rhonda who encouraged me to keep writing! *hugs*
*
Estel watched Elladan and Elrohir walk down the corridor towards their rooms. The twins were similarly dressed that day, and it was almost impossible to tell one apart from the other. However, Estel knew the two enough to recognize that it was Elladan who stood to the left, and Elrohir to the right. The two had just come back from abroad, and were garbed in an outfit fit for a Ranger. Estel silently sat in his hidden corner, listening intently to his older brothers' conversations and trying to be stealthy.
'Where is Estel? It is odd enough not for him to greet us today.'
'I do not know. Maybe he is away with Ada or Glorfindel.'
'Impossible. Ada is with Glorfindel in his study, discussing Bilbo.'
There was a quiet chuckle from the one who may have been Elrohir.
'That halfling is a dear creature. But he brings sad memories with him.'
'Indeed. Did you see the look on Glorfindel's face?'
Elrohir nodded absently, looking about as if to spot his younger foster brother somewhere, almost as if he knew he was being followed. Estel shrank further into the shadows. Elrohir shrugged and turned back to his brother. Elladan sighed.
'It is almost as bad as when Ada has to send off another dunedain fosterling. Arathorn's death was-'
Elrohir immediately shushed his twin, eyes darting to and fro.
'Do not speak of such matters here! We are probably being observed yet.'
Elladan stopped walking, and Estel froze. His eldest brother turned. With bated breath, Estel waited to be discovered, but Elladan merely swung backwards again and moved away with Elrohir. Just as he was about to move, an amused voice floated over.
'Do not try, Estel!'
Estel sighed. He had been found out. The insatiable ten year old soon forgot about his game, though, and smiled happily as he ran to hug both Elladan and Elrohir. Elladan laughed and ruffled Estel's hair lightly, insides churning as he realized how close he had been to revealing a truth best kept silent. Elrohir hastily covered up.
'You have improved your tracking skills much, little one! How are you this afternoon?'
Estel shrugged, but glowed happily at the praise bestowed on him.
'Glorfy is still talking to Ada, so I have nothing better to do than wait for them to finish. Glorfindel promised to relate to me some bits of the History of Numenor during lunch, so I have to wait.'
Both twins smiled at the use of Glorfindel's nickname. Even though Estel was fully capable of pronouncing the balrog slayer's full name, he much preferred the use of the shorter "Glorfy". It made the elf more human, and less of the legend that he really was. The three brothers linked hands as they strolled into the twin's chambers. Estel sat on the bed as they changed.
'Gwanun, what did you mean,'
Elladan froze.
'when you said "Did you see the look on Glorfindel's face"?'
Estel's eyes were lost in a faraway look up, wondering what on Arda could make the ever cheerful Glorfindel grieve. Elrohir relaxed slightly, but sighed heavily, a sad look on his fair face. Elladan wordlessly changed.
'That is a question you best ask Glorfindel himself, Estel.'
*
Glorfindel's shoulders were stooped slightly as he exited Elrond's study. The events of the last few days, though not life threatening nor involving him much, had had a great effect on the golden haired elf lord. The elf was struggling to keep his head up, trying as hard as possible to concentrate on the tasks set before him, but it was close to impossible. Teaching Estel, which was a task he usually enjoyed to no end, was becoming a encumbering chore as he was forced to put up a fake, smiling facade day after day.
Elrond was almost to the point of seeing through him, but Glorfindel battled his emotions down and violently forced himself to keep up. It would not do to have the household worry, especially at such an important time in Estel's life. He was there to do as he was asked, to teach, to guide, and most importantly to be able to be depended on. The elf knew how much the family relied on him at times, and the burden was becoming increasingly heavy as the years passed.
Estel was just starting on the more complex matters of the History of Numenor and of the Dunedain. It was a delicate subject, and Glorfindel knew that it would take all of his wits in order to make sure that Estel knew all that he had to, but not more than he should. It was a difficult job, seeing that the child would definitely want to know more about his own people. Teaching him about the line of Kings while keeping Gilraen out of the picture was a taxing task. If the elf did not keep his sense together, information might slip out, and all would be lost.
Times, however, were not on Glorfindel's side. What Bilbo had brought to the Last Homely House now haunted his nightmares. The eldar was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not notice the small form of Estel approaching him until the boy tugged on his shirt sleeve. Immediately smiling to dispel any misconceptions Estel might have had, Glorfindel looked down.
'Yes, Estel?'
Estel looked up at Glorfindel.
'You look tired, Glorfindel.'
The elf smiled weakly. Of all people that could have noticed, it had to be Estel. But the boy always was extremely insightful character.
'Bilbo's coming and going has stressed me greatly, little one. Having dwarves in the Last Homely House is not something I wish to repeat for a while.'
Estel cocked his head, and firmly made his stand. Glorfindel wondered how an ten year old could command such authority upon a elf well over six thousand years old.
'Elladan said that something about Bilbo troubled you, Glorfy.'
The golden lord wanted to strangle the life out of Elladan. Steeling himself, he guided Estel to a seat in the gallery of the House.
'It's a long story, Estel.'
The boy only looked patiently up at him. Glorfindel sighed again.
'Bilbo found a sword, Estel, two swords actually. Orcist and Glamdring. They came from long ago, and I thought them lost.'
'Where did they come from?'
'Gondolin.'
The simple answer astounded Estel. Softly, he gushed,
'But that was long ago.'
A sad smile graced Glorfindel's face.
'Aye. An age. Two ages. Orcist... Orcist was a renowned blade in my time, but who wielded it was of little importance. Glamdring, however...'
'What about it, Glorfy?'
'Glamdring. Glamdring belonged to the King. My King. Turgon, lord of the Gondolindrim. He fell in the sacking of the city.'
Glorfindel could not believe himself. He was pouring his heart out to a child! But Estel remained quiet. Calm. Composed. Offering what innocent comfort he could.
'Do you miss them, Glorfy?'
'I miss belonging to my old people at times, I suppose. Yes.'
'Just like Amme and I?'
'That is different, Estel.'
Estel nodded, accepting Glorfindel's answer, not knowing how close to the truth he actually spoke. Glorfindel smiled slightly, heart lighter.
'But that was a time long ago, little one, and now I only belong in one place, and that is here, with you and your family, in Imladris.'
Estel smiled, and his settled composure was gone and the exuberant child returned as Glorfindel lead them away from the bench and towards the dining room as the lunch bell rang. As Estel tugged on the elf's hand, he leant closer to Glorfindel and spoke of the pranks he had just committed on his brothers. Glorfindel laughed along with his young charge, and the heaviness in his heart was for a while forgotten.
For the hands of the king are the hands of a healer.