Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof.
Author's note: If this chapter gets a bit crazy. . .well, it's being written during commercial breaks for 'A Perfect Murder', so that might explain anything strange.
Lady Kat: The reason he grows up fast is that this story is one in a series and I knew that unless I created some incredible circumstance, Estel would just have to either remain a child for many years or grow up overnight. This way, circumstance forces him into maturity and it is, in many ways, more believable. He's spent the last week or so running off adrenaline. Also, mostly (in my experience) if someone is tired but does not sleep, they will find a second wind, and a third, and so on. But eventually they-- and Estel--must crash down. That starts in this chapter. But when was he weak? As for Legolas and the twins, I'm not exactly sure what you mean by that: I know generally, but not specifically. "Young" is as bad a euphemism as any; my writing is childish and you may as well say it bluntly. However, Estel is NOT me and that is unfair to say. He and I are similar in age, so as to understand the mind-frame, but other than that we are completely different. Earlier I addressed the topic of "young" writing, this I am aware of. Congratulations. You've caught me out. You are the first. It's about time! I know my writing has flaws. I am incapable of making things happen. "Take more time to flesh out and explain the scenes." Which is all well and good to say, but would you tell me HOW? I've been begging friends to and they keep telling me my writing's great, which of course it's not. Yes, I have a beta, but she's almost never online so I don't send her most of my stuff. Surely there cannot be so many spelling and grammar errors? "With a few more years of life experiences under your belt to flavour your writing, your work will really be of top quality." Kat, dear, if it's experience that improves my writing I would stay mediocre all my life. Anyway, I do hope you'll stick around because you're actually trying to help me improve my writing, and no one else will. Thanks!
Gwyn: did I mention the sequel? Hm. The sequel has Legolas, however there are a few stories before this one that I am going to write before the sequel (hey, maybe you'll like those) and they are Estel-centric stories without Legolas.
Maranwe: Yes, it is.
Leggylover03: One incensed Elf-lord, coming up.
Thanks to everyone for reviewing, I love hearing from you! (oh, funny thing, my computer spell-checker wanted to change 'Noldo' to 'Noodle'. I found that amusing and so elected to share it.)
*****
It was a peaceful sort of confusion that followed then. Armies of Men and Elves stood about on a field of short, brown grass as the sun began to rise. They did not know what to do. Under the command of an Elf by the name of Palanfin of Imladris, those who had dwelt in what was once Eregion, along with a number of Elves of Imladris, gathered the bodies of dead. There were many years of work ahead of them, but none complained. One Man broke down and sobbed that he had believed the Men were lost, and had done something terrible because of it, but he neglected to say what. His name was Roín.
The cities had indeed burned to little more than shells. Some frames of houses remained, some stone buildings and half-melted pieces of metal that were once possessions. At the northern end of the field was a line of trees, mostly pines and oaks. A number of Elves, most of them not yet fully grown, a similar number of horses and one Man were clustered near the trees. As the sun rose the air adopted a smell one might call only sorrow, and many wept, but none among this group tarried. Most were too stunned to do very much, but stood about, shaking or leaning upon each other or watching with eyes unseeing. One stood with the body of his friend in his arms, and he did not weep. Four, adults among them, were actively preparing to leave, checking the hooves and bridles of the horses and arranging pairs to ride together. At last they were ready to leave, and so the adults found themselves awakening the youths from their trances and helping them onto horses.
As he felt the body of Lysander taken from his arms, Estel's energy drained out of him. His knees buckled under him, and the adrenaline that had kept him moving for the past few days was spent. Elladan caught him as he fell, and placed him on the horse before him. There were no saddles. Sierra looked about worriedly, and moved nearer to Estel. "Estel, I do not know how to ride," she said, looking to him for instruction. Estel could hardly keep his eyes open.
"Glorfindel!" Elladan called. The Noldo turned and looked to the elder twin, who asked, "You are the best rider here. Ride with her; she does not know how."
Glorfindel had been mounting Asfaloth when Elladan called to him. He looked upon the girl, and the mortal boy slumping forward before Elladan, and he walked over to them. "Come," he said to Sierra, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Will you ride with me? It will be a long journey to Imladris on foot." She looked fearful, but bit her lip and nodded her head yes.
"Lysander?" Estel asked weakly. "Where is Lysander?"
Elladan grasped the horse's reins, and so his arms were not free and were around Estel, and at the mortal's words Elladan awkwardly hugged him and rested his head against Estel's shoulder for a moment. "We would not leave him behind," Elladan promised. "Now shh, go to sleep, Estel. You could use the rest." And Estel did so, and for this reason he did not know what went on for the next half-hour until the small convoy began to move. He did not count the number returning and did not compare it to the number that had left. The group left at a trot, and the up-down motions did not bother Estel in the least. He slept like the dead.
*****
When next he woke, the first thing Estel knew was the jaunty motion beneath him. He groaned and opened his eyes. Elladan was behind him, a horse beneath him, and his comrades around him. All was well and he was safe: so why did he feel as though a hole had been bored into his heart? "Elladan," Estel muttered, "I'm hungry."
Elladan laughed at this. "I should think so, little one! You have been asleep for over a day. You slept through many hours of hard galloping upon this horse. Do not worry for your stomach; we will stop soon and then you may eat."
"When?" Estel asked, for he realized now that he was sore from so many hours of riding.
After looking upon the sun, Elladan replied, "Within the hour." True to his word, Glorfindel soon called a halt to the group. Without a word they dismounted and tended their horses. Only when this had been completed did they speak, each claiming or assigning some job with relevance to making camp and making supper. When this was complete Elladan and Estel went off to collect wood for a fire.
"Elladan," said Estel, kneeling and plucking up a large stick. They were close enough that they could see the camp through the trees. A carpet of leaves littered the ground, though it was spring and not autumn, when leaves are prone to fall. The camp was a small place not large enough to constitute a clearing, simply a space where there were no trees for a bit and so bedrolls might be set out and a fire kept. "Am I correct in. . .in my assumption that there is some history. . .between you and Pellatal?"
"Aye."
"And. . .and certain others?"
Elladan paused and straightened up slowly. He brushed the dirt from the fallen piece of branch in his hands, staring intensely at his little brother, then gave a dismissive and reluctant, "Aye." He broke eye contact and returned to his work.
"And surely you will be telling this to Ada?" Estel pressed.
"No," Elladan said.
"He must know!" the boy cried, unable to believe that Elladan would retain such information. "You must, Elladan, you must tell Ada. He deserves to know, and. . .and you must tell Sierra, also. It is unfair not to do so. It would not be right to--"
Elladan turned to Estel so suddenly that the mortal lost his breath. The Elf threw the load of wood in his arms to the ground, and said angrily, "Let it be, Estel. This matter does not concern you." After a moment he bent to gather up the wood he had dropped.
A month prior, Estel might have--and likely would have--accepted this and allowed the matter to smolder within his mind. But he had seen things now; he had seen one of his best friends murdered and one of his worst enemies repent. He knew now what it meant to care when another suffered, more so than the day he found Elladan crying in the forest, the day when he been so shocked that he had frozen. Estel had been eleven years old. . .and the memory had not yet stopped haunting him. Because of it, and because now he cared more strongly for those around him, Estel said, "Tell her or I will, Elladan."
They gathered their wood in silence, and so returned to the camp. Elladan knelt by the circle that had been cleared of leaves and lined with stones. He organized the branches and struck a fire with a stone of flint. Estel sat on the ground disappointed with himself, for he knew that he would not tell Sierra, if Elladan did not. He did not notice when Elrohir sat beside him, nor when Legolas sat on his other side. Someone passed him a bowl of food and he ate it without knowing exactly what it was and without caring.
He felt no emotion until later that night, when the sun had set and light came only from the fire. As Estel was lying beneath his blanket trying to sleep, he felt a small hand on his shoulder. "Estel. . .did you know that I. . .did you know that my name is Eltohar?" said Sierra. "Thank you." When he looked up, she was gone. Estel cried himself to sleep.
*****
To be continued
All right, so, the next chapter will likely be quite short, and (if all goes to plan) there will be two more after that. Reviews are nice, flames are not!
Author's note: If this chapter gets a bit crazy. . .well, it's being written during commercial breaks for 'A Perfect Murder', so that might explain anything strange.
Lady Kat: The reason he grows up fast is that this story is one in a series and I knew that unless I created some incredible circumstance, Estel would just have to either remain a child for many years or grow up overnight. This way, circumstance forces him into maturity and it is, in many ways, more believable. He's spent the last week or so running off adrenaline. Also, mostly (in my experience) if someone is tired but does not sleep, they will find a second wind, and a third, and so on. But eventually they-- and Estel--must crash down. That starts in this chapter. But when was he weak? As for Legolas and the twins, I'm not exactly sure what you mean by that: I know generally, but not specifically. "Young" is as bad a euphemism as any; my writing is childish and you may as well say it bluntly. However, Estel is NOT me and that is unfair to say. He and I are similar in age, so as to understand the mind-frame, but other than that we are completely different. Earlier I addressed the topic of "young" writing, this I am aware of. Congratulations. You've caught me out. You are the first. It's about time! I know my writing has flaws. I am incapable of making things happen. "Take more time to flesh out and explain the scenes." Which is all well and good to say, but would you tell me HOW? I've been begging friends to and they keep telling me my writing's great, which of course it's not. Yes, I have a beta, but she's almost never online so I don't send her most of my stuff. Surely there cannot be so many spelling and grammar errors? "With a few more years of life experiences under your belt to flavour your writing, your work will really be of top quality." Kat, dear, if it's experience that improves my writing I would stay mediocre all my life. Anyway, I do hope you'll stick around because you're actually trying to help me improve my writing, and no one else will. Thanks!
Gwyn: did I mention the sequel? Hm. The sequel has Legolas, however there are a few stories before this one that I am going to write before the sequel (hey, maybe you'll like those) and they are Estel-centric stories without Legolas.
Maranwe: Yes, it is.
Leggylover03: One incensed Elf-lord, coming up.
Thanks to everyone for reviewing, I love hearing from you! (oh, funny thing, my computer spell-checker wanted to change 'Noldo' to 'Noodle'. I found that amusing and so elected to share it.)
*****
It was a peaceful sort of confusion that followed then. Armies of Men and Elves stood about on a field of short, brown grass as the sun began to rise. They did not know what to do. Under the command of an Elf by the name of Palanfin of Imladris, those who had dwelt in what was once Eregion, along with a number of Elves of Imladris, gathered the bodies of dead. There were many years of work ahead of them, but none complained. One Man broke down and sobbed that he had believed the Men were lost, and had done something terrible because of it, but he neglected to say what. His name was Roín.
The cities had indeed burned to little more than shells. Some frames of houses remained, some stone buildings and half-melted pieces of metal that were once possessions. At the northern end of the field was a line of trees, mostly pines and oaks. A number of Elves, most of them not yet fully grown, a similar number of horses and one Man were clustered near the trees. As the sun rose the air adopted a smell one might call only sorrow, and many wept, but none among this group tarried. Most were too stunned to do very much, but stood about, shaking or leaning upon each other or watching with eyes unseeing. One stood with the body of his friend in his arms, and he did not weep. Four, adults among them, were actively preparing to leave, checking the hooves and bridles of the horses and arranging pairs to ride together. At last they were ready to leave, and so the adults found themselves awakening the youths from their trances and helping them onto horses.
As he felt the body of Lysander taken from his arms, Estel's energy drained out of him. His knees buckled under him, and the adrenaline that had kept him moving for the past few days was spent. Elladan caught him as he fell, and placed him on the horse before him. There were no saddles. Sierra looked about worriedly, and moved nearer to Estel. "Estel, I do not know how to ride," she said, looking to him for instruction. Estel could hardly keep his eyes open.
"Glorfindel!" Elladan called. The Noldo turned and looked to the elder twin, who asked, "You are the best rider here. Ride with her; she does not know how."
Glorfindel had been mounting Asfaloth when Elladan called to him. He looked upon the girl, and the mortal boy slumping forward before Elladan, and he walked over to them. "Come," he said to Sierra, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Will you ride with me? It will be a long journey to Imladris on foot." She looked fearful, but bit her lip and nodded her head yes.
"Lysander?" Estel asked weakly. "Where is Lysander?"
Elladan grasped the horse's reins, and so his arms were not free and were around Estel, and at the mortal's words Elladan awkwardly hugged him and rested his head against Estel's shoulder for a moment. "We would not leave him behind," Elladan promised. "Now shh, go to sleep, Estel. You could use the rest." And Estel did so, and for this reason he did not know what went on for the next half-hour until the small convoy began to move. He did not count the number returning and did not compare it to the number that had left. The group left at a trot, and the up-down motions did not bother Estel in the least. He slept like the dead.
*****
When next he woke, the first thing Estel knew was the jaunty motion beneath him. He groaned and opened his eyes. Elladan was behind him, a horse beneath him, and his comrades around him. All was well and he was safe: so why did he feel as though a hole had been bored into his heart? "Elladan," Estel muttered, "I'm hungry."
Elladan laughed at this. "I should think so, little one! You have been asleep for over a day. You slept through many hours of hard galloping upon this horse. Do not worry for your stomach; we will stop soon and then you may eat."
"When?" Estel asked, for he realized now that he was sore from so many hours of riding.
After looking upon the sun, Elladan replied, "Within the hour." True to his word, Glorfindel soon called a halt to the group. Without a word they dismounted and tended their horses. Only when this had been completed did they speak, each claiming or assigning some job with relevance to making camp and making supper. When this was complete Elladan and Estel went off to collect wood for a fire.
"Elladan," said Estel, kneeling and plucking up a large stick. They were close enough that they could see the camp through the trees. A carpet of leaves littered the ground, though it was spring and not autumn, when leaves are prone to fall. The camp was a small place not large enough to constitute a clearing, simply a space where there were no trees for a bit and so bedrolls might be set out and a fire kept. "Am I correct in. . .in my assumption that there is some history. . .between you and Pellatal?"
"Aye."
"And. . .and certain others?"
Elladan paused and straightened up slowly. He brushed the dirt from the fallen piece of branch in his hands, staring intensely at his little brother, then gave a dismissive and reluctant, "Aye." He broke eye contact and returned to his work.
"And surely you will be telling this to Ada?" Estel pressed.
"No," Elladan said.
"He must know!" the boy cried, unable to believe that Elladan would retain such information. "You must, Elladan, you must tell Ada. He deserves to know, and. . .and you must tell Sierra, also. It is unfair not to do so. It would not be right to--"
Elladan turned to Estel so suddenly that the mortal lost his breath. The Elf threw the load of wood in his arms to the ground, and said angrily, "Let it be, Estel. This matter does not concern you." After a moment he bent to gather up the wood he had dropped.
A month prior, Estel might have--and likely would have--accepted this and allowed the matter to smolder within his mind. But he had seen things now; he had seen one of his best friends murdered and one of his worst enemies repent. He knew now what it meant to care when another suffered, more so than the day he found Elladan crying in the forest, the day when he been so shocked that he had frozen. Estel had been eleven years old. . .and the memory had not yet stopped haunting him. Because of it, and because now he cared more strongly for those around him, Estel said, "Tell her or I will, Elladan."
They gathered their wood in silence, and so returned to the camp. Elladan knelt by the circle that had been cleared of leaves and lined with stones. He organized the branches and struck a fire with a stone of flint. Estel sat on the ground disappointed with himself, for he knew that he would not tell Sierra, if Elladan did not. He did not notice when Elrohir sat beside him, nor when Legolas sat on his other side. Someone passed him a bowl of food and he ate it without knowing exactly what it was and without caring.
He felt no emotion until later that night, when the sun had set and light came only from the fire. As Estel was lying beneath his blanket trying to sleep, he felt a small hand on his shoulder. "Estel. . .did you know that I. . .did you know that my name is Eltohar?" said Sierra. "Thank you." When he looked up, she was gone. Estel cried himself to sleep.
*****
To be continued
All right, so, the next chapter will likely be quite short, and (if all goes to plan) there will be two more after that. Reviews are nice, flames are not!
