A/N: I am so very sorry for the 1st person-3rd person switching in the last
chapter. I normally write 1st person, and I guess it just comes
automatically now. Also, my beta reader had disappeared (mouse broke) so
had no one to point out my stupid mistakes. Oh, and please review!
* * * * *
Estel ran through the lush, verdant garden, examining every tree, bush and flower for brightly coloured paper. Spotting an unnatural shade of red in a dark green bush, he smiled in excitement.
Inside the twist of paper was a fruity hard-boiled sweet. Estel sucked it with relish, savouring its flavour as he rolled it round his tongue. Today was his sixth birthday, and Elladan and Elrohir had organised this treasure hunt as a special treat. Rounding the next corner, he saw his mother. Sitting under a tree, legs curled under her, embroidery on her lap, he thought she was more beautiful than any of the Elves here.
He ran towards her, hunt forgotten, and threw himself down onto his knees on the soft grass beside her.
"Estel! Calm yourself. It is far too hot to run about so energetically." She gave a rare laugh, full of joy and rich amusement. "How much treasure have you found, my son?"
He proudly displayed the empty wrappers collected in his pocket. "All these."
"Good! But look, Estel, you've got grass in your hair! And all over your clothes, and all these little seeds. What have you been doing?" Estel patiently submitted to his mother's searching hands, wondering why she always made such a fuss over his appearance. No one else did, unless you counted Lindir. But Lindir was always fussing at someone.
Brushing those thoughts aside, he turned to more cheerful matters. In a few weeks, they were going to visit the Dunedain. He couldn't wait; though he knew he would miss the Elves. They were so much more fun, and everything in Rivendell was so much nicer. And he could also understand the Elves better. The men spoke a strange language, and sometimes he didn't know what they meant. He didn't like to mention that to his mother, though. It made her look sad, and she already looked sad so often. He liked making her laugh and smile. He just wished he knew what upset her. Whenever he asked, she said she'd tell him when he was older, which nearly always led to him sulking in his room, or the gardens, or wherever else he could be alone.
His mothers eyes flicking up was the only warning he got before he was swept up high into the air, and spun round and round in giddy circles. The owner of the strong arms holding him eventually took pity on his gleeful shrieks and cries for mercy, and lowered him till he was cradled against a muscled chest.
"El'ohir!" Aragorn had never had trouble telling the twins apart - to him the difference between them had always been obvious. What this difference was though, he couldn't say.
"Hello, Aragorn. Have you finished that treasure hunt so soon?"
"Yeth. 'Twas easy!"
Elrohir shook as he laughed. "Ye-s. Sss. Not 'yeth'." He walked back towards where Gilraen reclined. "But it is good you have finished. You should both come, and get ready. A great feast has been prepared in celebration of your birthday, with all your favourite foods."
On the ground, Gilraen shook her head. "Oh, Estel, I'm sorry, but I don't know if I feel up to it. But you go, have fun."
"No!" If there was one thing Estel knew, it was that he wanted to spend this day with his mother, and Elrohir and Elladan and Elrond and Glorfindel and Erestor and everybody. "Mama, you have to come! Please, please come! I don't want to go if you're not coming."
"Do come, Gilraen. No one will mind if you retire early, but perhaps eating something would restore your spirits." He frowned, marring his fair face. "Would you like to visit my father? Maybe you have some mild sickness, that could be treated."
"Nay, that will not be necessary. I'm just feeling slightly under the weather. Most likely it is nothing." She started to push herself up, gathering her things. "But yes, I will come. After all, Estel, it is your birthday."
* * * * *
Hours later, a much sleepier Estel curled on his mother's lap, happy to just enjoy the lulling music from the musicians currently playing. Aromas, some meaty, some spicy, some fresh tangled in the air, intermingling with each another. Normally these would have sent him in search of food, but he was feeling contentedly full, and knew that eating anything else would make him feel slightly sick.
All through the evening he had enjoyed being the centre of attention, and had gradually relaxed enough that he didn't burrow into his mother's side every time a stranger approached. This made him very glad his mother was there, because although Elladan and Elrohir were very fun to play with, he didn't want them to think he was a baby. His mother was also easier to burrow into, all soft and warm.
Feeling his eyelids droop, he furiously blinked them open. Normally, he would have been carried off to bed long before now, and he had no intention of ruining it by falling asleep! He also wanted to answer a few questions - like, what colour did the sky go when it was really late at night? He knew how dark it went earlier on, but did it go especially dark at mid-night? Stifling a yawn, he sleepily watched a pair of dancers in front of him. Swaying and spinning, the red cloth of her skirt seemed almost hypnotic, and gradually his eyes lost focus, before slowly sliding shut.
* * * * *
Gilraen smiled as she stroked her sleeping son's soft hair, coiling deep brown strands around her fingers. Although she still preferred Aragorn, she understood Elrond's reasons for keeping his true identity from him, and Estel was strangely fitting. After all, he was the only hope left in her life.
Three years she'd lived here, and it still didn't feel right. She had thought she would have adjusted by now, but it was still strange. Rivendell seemed to perfect, and it was just too different from her life with Arathorn. Maybe that life had been hard and exhausting, but it had suited her. Rivendell, where she didn't have to lift a finger, drove her mad. She longed for the day when Estel was old enough for her to leave, and return to her family.
A hand caressed her shoulder, and she looked up at Glorfindel. Tall and blond, he was one of her only friends here. She supposed that Elrond cared, and others, but she felt unsure around them, uncomfortable. They made her self-conscious. Glorfindel was different. He, Lindir and a few of the maids that cleaned her and Estel's rooms were the only ones she felt comfortable around - Lindir because of the way he reminded her of one of her aunts, fussy and irritable, unsure of what to do when things went wrong; the maids because they were like so many of the girls she'd known growing up, gossipy and naively wise, eager for tales of passion and romance, and Glorfindel? Glorfindel just knew when she wanted to be left alone, and when she didn't. What more could she ask?
A soft voice put an end to her musing. "Would you like me to take him up to his room?" He let a hint of mischief creep into his voice. "Or would you like me to take both of you? You look fairly tired yourself."
"No, I'll be alright, but thank you. It was kind of you to offer. But I'd better go."
It was awkward trying to carry Estel, tired as she was. She couldn't help but be grateful when Glorfindel caught up with her in the cool hallway, taking Estel and supporting her, walking them both up to bed.
* * * * *
Responses to reviews:
BlackRose1356 - Thanks! And here, more!
Aarie - Wow, someone who knows Elvish. Colour me impressed. And thank-you for reviewing!
Terri - I know, 3rd person/1st person bad. Teach me to be all impatient and not wait for my beta reader.
arabella thorne - Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.
Dragon - Thank-you. It's really nice have people quote bits at me - makes me feel all proud! And hopefully the 1st person thing has been all sorted out.
Linwe Seregon - Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.
Etharei - I'm glad you liked! And I'm also glad you like the way I wrote about Gilraen. Everyone imagines characters differently, so it's hard to be sure if you're getting them right. And here - longer chapter! 1,487 words, to be precise.
* * * * *
Estel ran through the lush, verdant garden, examining every tree, bush and flower for brightly coloured paper. Spotting an unnatural shade of red in a dark green bush, he smiled in excitement.
Inside the twist of paper was a fruity hard-boiled sweet. Estel sucked it with relish, savouring its flavour as he rolled it round his tongue. Today was his sixth birthday, and Elladan and Elrohir had organised this treasure hunt as a special treat. Rounding the next corner, he saw his mother. Sitting under a tree, legs curled under her, embroidery on her lap, he thought she was more beautiful than any of the Elves here.
He ran towards her, hunt forgotten, and threw himself down onto his knees on the soft grass beside her.
"Estel! Calm yourself. It is far too hot to run about so energetically." She gave a rare laugh, full of joy and rich amusement. "How much treasure have you found, my son?"
He proudly displayed the empty wrappers collected in his pocket. "All these."
"Good! But look, Estel, you've got grass in your hair! And all over your clothes, and all these little seeds. What have you been doing?" Estel patiently submitted to his mother's searching hands, wondering why she always made such a fuss over his appearance. No one else did, unless you counted Lindir. But Lindir was always fussing at someone.
Brushing those thoughts aside, he turned to more cheerful matters. In a few weeks, they were going to visit the Dunedain. He couldn't wait; though he knew he would miss the Elves. They were so much more fun, and everything in Rivendell was so much nicer. And he could also understand the Elves better. The men spoke a strange language, and sometimes he didn't know what they meant. He didn't like to mention that to his mother, though. It made her look sad, and she already looked sad so often. He liked making her laugh and smile. He just wished he knew what upset her. Whenever he asked, she said she'd tell him when he was older, which nearly always led to him sulking in his room, or the gardens, or wherever else he could be alone.
His mothers eyes flicking up was the only warning he got before he was swept up high into the air, and spun round and round in giddy circles. The owner of the strong arms holding him eventually took pity on his gleeful shrieks and cries for mercy, and lowered him till he was cradled against a muscled chest.
"El'ohir!" Aragorn had never had trouble telling the twins apart - to him the difference between them had always been obvious. What this difference was though, he couldn't say.
"Hello, Aragorn. Have you finished that treasure hunt so soon?"
"Yeth. 'Twas easy!"
Elrohir shook as he laughed. "Ye-s. Sss. Not 'yeth'." He walked back towards where Gilraen reclined. "But it is good you have finished. You should both come, and get ready. A great feast has been prepared in celebration of your birthday, with all your favourite foods."
On the ground, Gilraen shook her head. "Oh, Estel, I'm sorry, but I don't know if I feel up to it. But you go, have fun."
"No!" If there was one thing Estel knew, it was that he wanted to spend this day with his mother, and Elrohir and Elladan and Elrond and Glorfindel and Erestor and everybody. "Mama, you have to come! Please, please come! I don't want to go if you're not coming."
"Do come, Gilraen. No one will mind if you retire early, but perhaps eating something would restore your spirits." He frowned, marring his fair face. "Would you like to visit my father? Maybe you have some mild sickness, that could be treated."
"Nay, that will not be necessary. I'm just feeling slightly under the weather. Most likely it is nothing." She started to push herself up, gathering her things. "But yes, I will come. After all, Estel, it is your birthday."
* * * * *
Hours later, a much sleepier Estel curled on his mother's lap, happy to just enjoy the lulling music from the musicians currently playing. Aromas, some meaty, some spicy, some fresh tangled in the air, intermingling with each another. Normally these would have sent him in search of food, but he was feeling contentedly full, and knew that eating anything else would make him feel slightly sick.
All through the evening he had enjoyed being the centre of attention, and had gradually relaxed enough that he didn't burrow into his mother's side every time a stranger approached. This made him very glad his mother was there, because although Elladan and Elrohir were very fun to play with, he didn't want them to think he was a baby. His mother was also easier to burrow into, all soft and warm.
Feeling his eyelids droop, he furiously blinked them open. Normally, he would have been carried off to bed long before now, and he had no intention of ruining it by falling asleep! He also wanted to answer a few questions - like, what colour did the sky go when it was really late at night? He knew how dark it went earlier on, but did it go especially dark at mid-night? Stifling a yawn, he sleepily watched a pair of dancers in front of him. Swaying and spinning, the red cloth of her skirt seemed almost hypnotic, and gradually his eyes lost focus, before slowly sliding shut.
* * * * *
Gilraen smiled as she stroked her sleeping son's soft hair, coiling deep brown strands around her fingers. Although she still preferred Aragorn, she understood Elrond's reasons for keeping his true identity from him, and Estel was strangely fitting. After all, he was the only hope left in her life.
Three years she'd lived here, and it still didn't feel right. She had thought she would have adjusted by now, but it was still strange. Rivendell seemed to perfect, and it was just too different from her life with Arathorn. Maybe that life had been hard and exhausting, but it had suited her. Rivendell, where she didn't have to lift a finger, drove her mad. She longed for the day when Estel was old enough for her to leave, and return to her family.
A hand caressed her shoulder, and she looked up at Glorfindel. Tall and blond, he was one of her only friends here. She supposed that Elrond cared, and others, but she felt unsure around them, uncomfortable. They made her self-conscious. Glorfindel was different. He, Lindir and a few of the maids that cleaned her and Estel's rooms were the only ones she felt comfortable around - Lindir because of the way he reminded her of one of her aunts, fussy and irritable, unsure of what to do when things went wrong; the maids because they were like so many of the girls she'd known growing up, gossipy and naively wise, eager for tales of passion and romance, and Glorfindel? Glorfindel just knew when she wanted to be left alone, and when she didn't. What more could she ask?
A soft voice put an end to her musing. "Would you like me to take him up to his room?" He let a hint of mischief creep into his voice. "Or would you like me to take both of you? You look fairly tired yourself."
"No, I'll be alright, but thank you. It was kind of you to offer. But I'd better go."
It was awkward trying to carry Estel, tired as she was. She couldn't help but be grateful when Glorfindel caught up with her in the cool hallway, taking Estel and supporting her, walking them both up to bed.
* * * * *
Responses to reviews:
BlackRose1356 - Thanks! And here, more!
Aarie - Wow, someone who knows Elvish. Colour me impressed. And thank-you for reviewing!
Terri - I know, 3rd person/1st person bad. Teach me to be all impatient and not wait for my beta reader.
arabella thorne - Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.
Dragon - Thank-you. It's really nice have people quote bits at me - makes me feel all proud! And hopefully the 1st person thing has been all sorted out.
Linwe Seregon - Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.
Etharei - I'm glad you liked! And I'm also glad you like the way I wrote about Gilraen. Everyone imagines characters differently, so it's hard to be sure if you're getting them right. And here - longer chapter! 1,487 words, to be precise.