Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or paces
thereof
Landorie: Update schedule? Er. . .I haven't got one. Mostly I post every time I write a new chapter. Thank you for requesting a story, it has helped me decide which to hurry up and get written! And thanks for your review, it was great hearing from you.
Lady Laughing Owl: At least you only read it, unlike Vigo! Haha, I still can't believe. . .oh, this will be fun! Anyway, as I was saying! Thanks. You didn't understand the "pretty" joke, for which I am eternally thankful. Hehe.
Thanks everyone for reviewing! Hope you like this last chapter!
*****
Estel ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed them on his trousers. An accidental glimpse of his reflection in a windowpane had alerted him to the absurdity of his looks: his eyes red and swollen from crying, his lips chapped and cracking (when had that happened?), hair falling in limp, greasy strands past his shoulder, his skin frighteningly pale, and all of it topped with Legolas's coordinating, clean choice of clothing. He considered laughing, but the sight was too terrible to be humorous. In the hopes of improving himself a bit--regretting his hasty decision but denying to turn back on it--Estel finger-combed his hair and ran his tongue over his lips. It was a feeling not unlike licking sandpaper.
With a pounding heart Estel paused before Lord Elrond's study door. Estel squared his shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was almost afraid, and realizing this was suddenly very much afraid, for this was the moment in which his character, his future would be decided. Would he break and run to the comfort of his foster-father's arms, would he cry? Would he hold back on sorrow and report as any decent warrior who loves his leader ought? Who and where would this day take him? Estel had come to a crossroads in his life, and his greatest fear was facing it. Shaking his head Estel knocked impulsively on the study door--once, twice--then his bravery fled and it was all he could do not to run away.
"Come in, Estel," Elrond called, and Estel reached for the doorknob. His hand shook and paused, then he darted forward and stepped into the room. It was the same study Estel could remember from the roots of his childhood, the same bookshelves with the same books, the same unlit hearth, the same desk and the same chairs and, by far the worst, the same Half-Elf sitting at that familiar desk. "Sit down," he offered, looking up to meet Estel's eyes. The boy did not cry, but for a moment he did freeze. It was not the same Peredhil, after all, for this person had the haggard appearance of one pushed beyond his limits and mad with worry. This did comfort Estel, for he saw then that Elrond had changed, if only in that he had never appeared so tired before. With the smallest of smiles Estel stepped forward and slid down into the proffered chair.
"You sent for me," Estel said.
"Indeed I did. While I realize this must be a painful topic to discuss, Estel, there are some things. . ." Elrond paused. He did not wish to continue, did not wish to inflict this pain on the mortal child he had come to know as his own son, but he knew that it was necessary. "You alone may fill in all the gaps in the story, and this I must ask you to do. Are you willing?" Estel's eyes, so cold now, colder and duller than ever Elrond had seen them, locked with the Peredhil's as the mortal nodded slowly. Elrond sought to ask him about Lysander's death, the manic period Legolas had reported, and the insides of the mysterious house, but could not tear his gaze from Estel's serious eyes. There was hurt in them, but a hidden, deep hurt, as well as an absence: Elrond had never known Estel's eyes to be without some glimmer or reflection of laughter. What had they done to him? "Lysander," Elrond managed to say at last. "What exactly happened to Lysander?"
"A despot King of Men killed him when Lysander challenged him for my freedom," Estel replied. 'And I was glad,' he thought. 'I was perverse enough to be glad for my friend, who no longer needed to feel pain.' He spoke, "Then I killed that King. I stopped his heart and broke his ribs with the blunt end of a broom."
Elrond nodded. He had heard Elladan's report of a blood-spattered boy fighting to mutilate a corpse with a maniacal rage in his eyes, a dead child's body slumped against the wall nearby. Had Estel simply reacted, or was there something deeper there, some reason Lysander's death--because it had been Lysander's--had spurned this violence? Elrond decided not to ask. There was no need, and no need to ask why Estel had been so uncontrolled when Elladan and Elrohir were taken. There were some things, Elrond determined, too personal, especially for a boy in such delicate years and having been so recently and severely disturbed. "Only one question further: What did you see when you went into the abandoned house the last night in Eregion?"
Estel met the eyes on his foster father one last time, his gaze more intense than before but fluttering, as though troubled. Could he lie to the person who had cared for him, looked after him, forgiven him, taught him, and loved him for so long as he remembered? The one person who had expressed again and again that virtue was of great importance? Was it in his heart? "I saw a dead woman," he replied, "and her two dead children, and a pie cooling on the stove."
"Thank you, Estel," Elrond said, hardly believing. "You are free to go, but I would like you to know that I. . .I am always here, if you ever need to talk about any of this."
Estel rose. He inclined his head. "Thank you," he said, and turned to go.
Elrond watched his son leave, and knew that something had changed, something he could not heal. It was times like these that made him feel insignificant. "Estel," he said, jumping to his feet. The boy paused, then turned and walked slowly back across the room, stopping against just before the Elven lord. "Estel. . ." He could not find the words, and at last knelt to see eye-to-eye, placing one hand on either one of Estel's shoulders. 'Show some feeling!' he wanted to shout. 'Anything to show that you are still alive!' Could this wraith-like form truly be his Estel? "Oh, child," Elrond said, a broken half-sobbed, and he held the boy tightly for a long moment. Estel did not respond to this but stood, as though enduring what had once passed for a gesture of comfort. When Elrond released the boy his eyes were as dull as ever, and the healer was nearing tears. "Is there anything that I can do?" he asked.
"Only one thing," Estel replied. "Send me out again."
*****
Legolas left for Mirkwood forest the next day. He and Estel bowed to each other and the Elf kissed the mortal boy on the brow, and told him to care for himself and to be strong. "I will see you soon," Legolas promised, and indeed looked forward to that occasion. There was some strength in the boy, and after everything, Legolas was amazed that he did not cry or mope, but made use of himself. Already he had spent hours in the Hall of Healing. "Perhaps before the year is out, if circumstance permits."
Estel made no reply, but stood as a statue and watched the sun sink below the horizon.
*****
~The End~
.
.
.
.
.
The next story in this series, 'Colder Than It Looks Outside', has already been posted and is a work in progress. As Aragorn recounts a tale for Pippin, the comrades journey back to Eregion, where something foul lurks in the air. Preview paragraphs: "Are you giving up, adan?"
"No, sindar, you confuse me with yourself."
Legolas laughed and redoubled his efforts against his friend. The old Ranger could use it, he thought, not because this was true but because it amused him to think it. Strider did not return the Elf's smile, which suited them both just fine. Years had spun the two together, and so when Strider did not smile Legolas knew that he was smiling within but was not as liberal with his outward emotional appearance. It was much easier not to think of how this had come to be.
.
There are many other stories in this series, which I am hoping to tackle two at a time (one of little Estel and one of older Estel). All the summaries are in my biography, any particular requests for stories sooner than others will be taken into account. And remember, good readers review (please)!
Landorie: Update schedule? Er. . .I haven't got one. Mostly I post every time I write a new chapter. Thank you for requesting a story, it has helped me decide which to hurry up and get written! And thanks for your review, it was great hearing from you.
Lady Laughing Owl: At least you only read it, unlike Vigo! Haha, I still can't believe. . .oh, this will be fun! Anyway, as I was saying! Thanks. You didn't understand the "pretty" joke, for which I am eternally thankful. Hehe.
Thanks everyone for reviewing! Hope you like this last chapter!
*****
Estel ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed them on his trousers. An accidental glimpse of his reflection in a windowpane had alerted him to the absurdity of his looks: his eyes red and swollen from crying, his lips chapped and cracking (when had that happened?), hair falling in limp, greasy strands past his shoulder, his skin frighteningly pale, and all of it topped with Legolas's coordinating, clean choice of clothing. He considered laughing, but the sight was too terrible to be humorous. In the hopes of improving himself a bit--regretting his hasty decision but denying to turn back on it--Estel finger-combed his hair and ran his tongue over his lips. It was a feeling not unlike licking sandpaper.
With a pounding heart Estel paused before Lord Elrond's study door. Estel squared his shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was almost afraid, and realizing this was suddenly very much afraid, for this was the moment in which his character, his future would be decided. Would he break and run to the comfort of his foster-father's arms, would he cry? Would he hold back on sorrow and report as any decent warrior who loves his leader ought? Who and where would this day take him? Estel had come to a crossroads in his life, and his greatest fear was facing it. Shaking his head Estel knocked impulsively on the study door--once, twice--then his bravery fled and it was all he could do not to run away.
"Come in, Estel," Elrond called, and Estel reached for the doorknob. His hand shook and paused, then he darted forward and stepped into the room. It was the same study Estel could remember from the roots of his childhood, the same bookshelves with the same books, the same unlit hearth, the same desk and the same chairs and, by far the worst, the same Half-Elf sitting at that familiar desk. "Sit down," he offered, looking up to meet Estel's eyes. The boy did not cry, but for a moment he did freeze. It was not the same Peredhil, after all, for this person had the haggard appearance of one pushed beyond his limits and mad with worry. This did comfort Estel, for he saw then that Elrond had changed, if only in that he had never appeared so tired before. With the smallest of smiles Estel stepped forward and slid down into the proffered chair.
"You sent for me," Estel said.
"Indeed I did. While I realize this must be a painful topic to discuss, Estel, there are some things. . ." Elrond paused. He did not wish to continue, did not wish to inflict this pain on the mortal child he had come to know as his own son, but he knew that it was necessary. "You alone may fill in all the gaps in the story, and this I must ask you to do. Are you willing?" Estel's eyes, so cold now, colder and duller than ever Elrond had seen them, locked with the Peredhil's as the mortal nodded slowly. Elrond sought to ask him about Lysander's death, the manic period Legolas had reported, and the insides of the mysterious house, but could not tear his gaze from Estel's serious eyes. There was hurt in them, but a hidden, deep hurt, as well as an absence: Elrond had never known Estel's eyes to be without some glimmer or reflection of laughter. What had they done to him? "Lysander," Elrond managed to say at last. "What exactly happened to Lysander?"
"A despot King of Men killed him when Lysander challenged him for my freedom," Estel replied. 'And I was glad,' he thought. 'I was perverse enough to be glad for my friend, who no longer needed to feel pain.' He spoke, "Then I killed that King. I stopped his heart and broke his ribs with the blunt end of a broom."
Elrond nodded. He had heard Elladan's report of a blood-spattered boy fighting to mutilate a corpse with a maniacal rage in his eyes, a dead child's body slumped against the wall nearby. Had Estel simply reacted, or was there something deeper there, some reason Lysander's death--because it had been Lysander's--had spurned this violence? Elrond decided not to ask. There was no need, and no need to ask why Estel had been so uncontrolled when Elladan and Elrohir were taken. There were some things, Elrond determined, too personal, especially for a boy in such delicate years and having been so recently and severely disturbed. "Only one question further: What did you see when you went into the abandoned house the last night in Eregion?"
Estel met the eyes on his foster father one last time, his gaze more intense than before but fluttering, as though troubled. Could he lie to the person who had cared for him, looked after him, forgiven him, taught him, and loved him for so long as he remembered? The one person who had expressed again and again that virtue was of great importance? Was it in his heart? "I saw a dead woman," he replied, "and her two dead children, and a pie cooling on the stove."
"Thank you, Estel," Elrond said, hardly believing. "You are free to go, but I would like you to know that I. . .I am always here, if you ever need to talk about any of this."
Estel rose. He inclined his head. "Thank you," he said, and turned to go.
Elrond watched his son leave, and knew that something had changed, something he could not heal. It was times like these that made him feel insignificant. "Estel," he said, jumping to his feet. The boy paused, then turned and walked slowly back across the room, stopping against just before the Elven lord. "Estel. . ." He could not find the words, and at last knelt to see eye-to-eye, placing one hand on either one of Estel's shoulders. 'Show some feeling!' he wanted to shout. 'Anything to show that you are still alive!' Could this wraith-like form truly be his Estel? "Oh, child," Elrond said, a broken half-sobbed, and he held the boy tightly for a long moment. Estel did not respond to this but stood, as though enduring what had once passed for a gesture of comfort. When Elrond released the boy his eyes were as dull as ever, and the healer was nearing tears. "Is there anything that I can do?" he asked.
"Only one thing," Estel replied. "Send me out again."
*****
Legolas left for Mirkwood forest the next day. He and Estel bowed to each other and the Elf kissed the mortal boy on the brow, and told him to care for himself and to be strong. "I will see you soon," Legolas promised, and indeed looked forward to that occasion. There was some strength in the boy, and after everything, Legolas was amazed that he did not cry or mope, but made use of himself. Already he had spent hours in the Hall of Healing. "Perhaps before the year is out, if circumstance permits."
Estel made no reply, but stood as a statue and watched the sun sink below the horizon.
*****
~The End~
.
.
.
.
.
The next story in this series, 'Colder Than It Looks Outside', has already been posted and is a work in progress. As Aragorn recounts a tale for Pippin, the comrades journey back to Eregion, where something foul lurks in the air. Preview paragraphs: "Are you giving up, adan?"
"No, sindar, you confuse me with yourself."
Legolas laughed and redoubled his efforts against his friend. The old Ranger could use it, he thought, not because this was true but because it amused him to think it. Strider did not return the Elf's smile, which suited them both just fine. Years had spun the two together, and so when Strider did not smile Legolas knew that he was smiling within but was not as liberal with his outward emotional appearance. It was much easier not to think of how this had come to be.
.
There are many other stories in this series, which I am hoping to tackle two at a time (one of little Estel and one of older Estel). All the summaries are in my biography, any particular requests for stories sooner than others will be taken into account. And remember, good readers review (please)!
