Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
Thanks everybody who reviewed!
Arabella Thorne: The thing is, that is about as good as I can get the dialogue, because I am not a terribly social creature, and try to drown out the endless improper use of the word "like" used by most people my age. So my dialogue is based off of that used in books and my own form of vernacular, which is especially strange because I love reading Shakespeare's works, so am constantly making huge productions out of everything I say. So bear with me, it may seem like I am awful at dialogue but I am trying.
Dragon: Their argument was supposed to be political, based off a debate my sister and I had about the Communist party's views on Adolf Hitler, but that didn't work out because it can hardly be applied in Middle-earth! Luckily, Daniel and Ben started having the insane argument transcribed for the earlier chapter. So, yes, it probably was a bit immature. Oswald is the name of a character in King Lear, as Lysander comes from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Not being a terribly creative person, this is the main source of names for me.
In conclusion to you both, I apologize for being such a terribly uncreative author, but hey, at least it's good fun.
*****
"Ada--" Estel began, but then said, as Elrond raised his head, "never mind." Elrond, sitting in a chair by the hearth, sighed and turned back to his book. Estel had begun in such a manner no less than five times, only to silence himself. What ever it was that he wanted to say, Elrond wished he would just say it already. The tension could be cut with a sword.
Young Estel was oblivious to this. He sat on Elrond's bed, tracing with his finger the leaf-like pattern embroidered on the duvet. The crazed emotions of earlier had been quelled with time. Estel was not the grass-stained, rough-and-tumble explorer any longer, but a newly-washed, cleanly-clothed child. He sucked nervously at the ends of his hair, still slick and wet from his bath, shaking rogue strands out of his eyes. "Ada. . ."
There are some things it is very difficult for a child to say. The love of a parent keeps the child from wanting to hurt them, and when afraid that their words will be so offending, the child often must work up his courage to say them, and even after many attempts may not succeed. This little play can go on for days or for only minutes, depending on the bravery of the child.
That, and one other thing, kept Estel from asking his questions, and that other factor was this: what if Elrond was angry at him for thinking such things? After all, he was calling into question a higher authority and the credit of their word. Too young to fully understand anger, Estel feared this powerful emotion.
"Time for bed, Estel," Elrond announced, snapping his book shut and setting it on his chair, which he vacated. "Come on." Estel, in his four-year-old sort of test, raised his arms to be carried. Elrond gave him a disapproving look, but after a moment lifted the child. Usually it is females that win over such indulgence by looking sweet and pretty, and perhaps Estel had a feminine air about him, but his innocent grey eyes and floppy black hair made him irresistible.
In the corridor, much to Elrond's chagrin, one Glorfindel was just turning the corner. He grinned at his old friend, asking, "Always Ada, are you not?"
"Oh, hush up," replied Elrond. Estel was oblivious to this, his face buried in Elrond's tunic. Something not unlike triumph rose in his chest. This feeling of such content and the day's exertion combined to form a very sleepy Estel, and he could hardly help but curl up a bit and close his eyes. An exceptionally sly thumb snaked its way to the warm haven of Estel's mouth, only to be apprehended by Elrond, who was trying very hard to break Estel out of this habit.
"Ada," asked Estel at last as he was lowered into his own bed, "do you love me?"
"Of course I do, Estel," replied Elrond, but nothing in his tone suggested that this might be obvious, and he did not laugh at the question. "Never let anyone tell you otherwise."
"Well. . .if I did something bad--not just little bad, but really, really bad--would you still love me then?" Estel asked.
Elrond's eyes narrowed. He would, of course, but there was always the question that had to be asked. "What have you done, Estel?"
"It is just an 'if'," Estel assured him. "But if I. . .if I kicked Glorfindel or Elladan or Elrohir, and he told you, would you still love me?"
"Now why would you be kicking Glorfindel?" Elrond asked, amused but no longer worried, because Glorfindel would surely have told him if Estel kicked him. Privately, Elrond hoped that there would come a day when Estel was kicking his brothers--growing up, the twins had never seemed more joyous than just after a good scuffle. "I would love you no matter what, even if you kicked Glorfindel. But come, it is past your bedtime and you should be asleep."
"Are you going to sleep, Ada?"
"No, little one, I am going back to my study to work."
"When will your work be done?"
Elrond chuckled. "Likely never," he replied. His mood changed, and with the efficiency of an experienced parent he said, "Come on. Under the covers and to sleep!"
Estel obeyed, burying his face in the pillow but listening for the sound of his door shutting. Once in bed, Estel's weariness was gone. It was as though one hundred years of repose had granted him energy, and now he wanted nothing more to run and jump all over Imladris. This seemed to happen to Estel most every night, yet out of an obedience born of love and strengthened as of late, Estel closed his yes and tried to find sleep.
Suddenly the lad's eyes snapped open. That was what was wrong! Now having a decent excuse, Estel carefully lowered himself to the ground, being a small child. Softly he padded down the corridor until he reached Elrond's study, where he pushed open the door, an act taking such an effort that the boy fell on his face as the door opened. Elladan, sitting opposite his father with his back to the door, turned to see Estel sprawled on the floor but not at all hurt, quietly picking himself up.
"Elrohir," Elladan whispered, motioning towards the boy. Elrohir smiled, and the twins watched in silent amusement as Estel made his way over to the desk. His sleepiness had returned, and it was all he could do not to trip.
"Ada," Estel whispered, tugging on Elrond's tunic.
"Well, hello there Estel!" said Elrond, turning to see the boy looking up at him with a child's sincere hurt in his eyes. "Should you not be in your bed, dreaming dreams?"
Estel shook his head, mischievous and innocent eyes gleaming.
"And, pray tell, why not?"
"You forgot to kiss me goodnight," Estel whispered.
"Did I?" asked Elrond, casting a silencing glance at the twins, who bit their lips, suppressing laughter at just how sweet a little boy could be. "Well, we cannot have that, can we?" And, lifting Estel into his lap, Elrond kissed his son goodnight. "There now, can you go to sleep now?"
"I could. . .but you and Elladan and Elrohir have to go to bed, too. Maybe if I helped you, everybody could go to bed!" Estel stretched his arms wide with this exclamation, as if to incorporate the entire world into his proposal.
"All right, Estel. It would be very helpful if you would copy over a few pages of this volume," and Elrond motioned to a book falling to dust. True, it was an impossible task, but there was nothing any more feasible to be done. Elladan could hardly contain his amusement at the task, which Estel of course could not complete, but Elrohir gave him a silencing look.
To every one's surprise, Estel announced, "All right!" Merrily he climbed onto the desk and trotted over to the book, plunking himself down and beginning to "read" it. Elrond shrugged and returned to his work. Within ten minutes, Estel trotted back across the desk and lowered himself back into his father's lap, falling asleep before he completed the final segment of his unorthodox journey.
When he awoke the next morning, Estel smiled happily. Someone had moved him from the study back to his bed while he slept. Stretching without sitting up, Estel accidentally punched his pillow. It didn't matter. His heart sang, "Ada loves me!"
*****
I may continue this one, or turn the next segment into a separate story. Anyone have a preference either way?
Other stories in this series:
Phantasm
Every Move You Make
(and more to come!)
Thanks everybody who reviewed!
Arabella Thorne: The thing is, that is about as good as I can get the dialogue, because I am not a terribly social creature, and try to drown out the endless improper use of the word "like" used by most people my age. So my dialogue is based off of that used in books and my own form of vernacular, which is especially strange because I love reading Shakespeare's works, so am constantly making huge productions out of everything I say. So bear with me, it may seem like I am awful at dialogue but I am trying.
Dragon: Their argument was supposed to be political, based off a debate my sister and I had about the Communist party's views on Adolf Hitler, but that didn't work out because it can hardly be applied in Middle-earth! Luckily, Daniel and Ben started having the insane argument transcribed for the earlier chapter. So, yes, it probably was a bit immature. Oswald is the name of a character in King Lear, as Lysander comes from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Not being a terribly creative person, this is the main source of names for me.
In conclusion to you both, I apologize for being such a terribly uncreative author, but hey, at least it's good fun.
*****
"Ada--" Estel began, but then said, as Elrond raised his head, "never mind." Elrond, sitting in a chair by the hearth, sighed and turned back to his book. Estel had begun in such a manner no less than five times, only to silence himself. What ever it was that he wanted to say, Elrond wished he would just say it already. The tension could be cut with a sword.
Young Estel was oblivious to this. He sat on Elrond's bed, tracing with his finger the leaf-like pattern embroidered on the duvet. The crazed emotions of earlier had been quelled with time. Estel was not the grass-stained, rough-and-tumble explorer any longer, but a newly-washed, cleanly-clothed child. He sucked nervously at the ends of his hair, still slick and wet from his bath, shaking rogue strands out of his eyes. "Ada. . ."
There are some things it is very difficult for a child to say. The love of a parent keeps the child from wanting to hurt them, and when afraid that their words will be so offending, the child often must work up his courage to say them, and even after many attempts may not succeed. This little play can go on for days or for only minutes, depending on the bravery of the child.
That, and one other thing, kept Estel from asking his questions, and that other factor was this: what if Elrond was angry at him for thinking such things? After all, he was calling into question a higher authority and the credit of their word. Too young to fully understand anger, Estel feared this powerful emotion.
"Time for bed, Estel," Elrond announced, snapping his book shut and setting it on his chair, which he vacated. "Come on." Estel, in his four-year-old sort of test, raised his arms to be carried. Elrond gave him a disapproving look, but after a moment lifted the child. Usually it is females that win over such indulgence by looking sweet and pretty, and perhaps Estel had a feminine air about him, but his innocent grey eyes and floppy black hair made him irresistible.
In the corridor, much to Elrond's chagrin, one Glorfindel was just turning the corner. He grinned at his old friend, asking, "Always Ada, are you not?"
"Oh, hush up," replied Elrond. Estel was oblivious to this, his face buried in Elrond's tunic. Something not unlike triumph rose in his chest. This feeling of such content and the day's exertion combined to form a very sleepy Estel, and he could hardly help but curl up a bit and close his eyes. An exceptionally sly thumb snaked its way to the warm haven of Estel's mouth, only to be apprehended by Elrond, who was trying very hard to break Estel out of this habit.
"Ada," asked Estel at last as he was lowered into his own bed, "do you love me?"
"Of course I do, Estel," replied Elrond, but nothing in his tone suggested that this might be obvious, and he did not laugh at the question. "Never let anyone tell you otherwise."
"Well. . .if I did something bad--not just little bad, but really, really bad--would you still love me then?" Estel asked.
Elrond's eyes narrowed. He would, of course, but there was always the question that had to be asked. "What have you done, Estel?"
"It is just an 'if'," Estel assured him. "But if I. . .if I kicked Glorfindel or Elladan or Elrohir, and he told you, would you still love me?"
"Now why would you be kicking Glorfindel?" Elrond asked, amused but no longer worried, because Glorfindel would surely have told him if Estel kicked him. Privately, Elrond hoped that there would come a day when Estel was kicking his brothers--growing up, the twins had never seemed more joyous than just after a good scuffle. "I would love you no matter what, even if you kicked Glorfindel. But come, it is past your bedtime and you should be asleep."
"Are you going to sleep, Ada?"
"No, little one, I am going back to my study to work."
"When will your work be done?"
Elrond chuckled. "Likely never," he replied. His mood changed, and with the efficiency of an experienced parent he said, "Come on. Under the covers and to sleep!"
Estel obeyed, burying his face in the pillow but listening for the sound of his door shutting. Once in bed, Estel's weariness was gone. It was as though one hundred years of repose had granted him energy, and now he wanted nothing more to run and jump all over Imladris. This seemed to happen to Estel most every night, yet out of an obedience born of love and strengthened as of late, Estel closed his yes and tried to find sleep.
Suddenly the lad's eyes snapped open. That was what was wrong! Now having a decent excuse, Estel carefully lowered himself to the ground, being a small child. Softly he padded down the corridor until he reached Elrond's study, where he pushed open the door, an act taking such an effort that the boy fell on his face as the door opened. Elladan, sitting opposite his father with his back to the door, turned to see Estel sprawled on the floor but not at all hurt, quietly picking himself up.
"Elrohir," Elladan whispered, motioning towards the boy. Elrohir smiled, and the twins watched in silent amusement as Estel made his way over to the desk. His sleepiness had returned, and it was all he could do not to trip.
"Ada," Estel whispered, tugging on Elrond's tunic.
"Well, hello there Estel!" said Elrond, turning to see the boy looking up at him with a child's sincere hurt in his eyes. "Should you not be in your bed, dreaming dreams?"
Estel shook his head, mischievous and innocent eyes gleaming.
"And, pray tell, why not?"
"You forgot to kiss me goodnight," Estel whispered.
"Did I?" asked Elrond, casting a silencing glance at the twins, who bit their lips, suppressing laughter at just how sweet a little boy could be. "Well, we cannot have that, can we?" And, lifting Estel into his lap, Elrond kissed his son goodnight. "There now, can you go to sleep now?"
"I could. . .but you and Elladan and Elrohir have to go to bed, too. Maybe if I helped you, everybody could go to bed!" Estel stretched his arms wide with this exclamation, as if to incorporate the entire world into his proposal.
"All right, Estel. It would be very helpful if you would copy over a few pages of this volume," and Elrond motioned to a book falling to dust. True, it was an impossible task, but there was nothing any more feasible to be done. Elladan could hardly contain his amusement at the task, which Estel of course could not complete, but Elrohir gave him a silencing look.
To every one's surprise, Estel announced, "All right!" Merrily he climbed onto the desk and trotted over to the book, plunking himself down and beginning to "read" it. Elrond shrugged and returned to his work. Within ten minutes, Estel trotted back across the desk and lowered himself back into his father's lap, falling asleep before he completed the final segment of his unorthodox journey.
When he awoke the next morning, Estel smiled happily. Someone had moved him from the study back to his bed while he slept. Stretching without sitting up, Estel accidentally punched his pillow. It didn't matter. His heart sang, "Ada loves me!"
*****
I may continue this one, or turn the next segment into a separate story. Anyone have a preference either way?
Other stories in this series:
Phantasm
Every Move You Make
(and more to come!)