Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters
and/or places.
Orion: Thanks! Of course there's more, I haven't tortured the boy quite enough yet--and my friend is still cutting, so I can't call it quits yet. : )
*****
Elrond was glad that Estel was unconscious--this was really going to hurt him. As gently as possible he repositioned the two broken bones in Estel's hand, hoping the boy could not feel anything. Blood flowed freely from ragged cuts, and had had to be cleaned off before any damage could be assessed.
"How did this happen to you?" Elrond asked no one in particular. At the sound of a familiar voice Estel stirred, his eyes opened slightly. But he snapped shut his eyes again, upon seeing who it was that spoke. "You are awake, Estel," Elrond stated in a vague sort of angry tone.
Estel blushed as he opened his eyes again.
"Who did this to you? Who were you fighting?" Elrond demanded. At once he regretted it; his son was in great pain and all he could do was shout at him?
Estel shook his head, somewhere between reluctantly and fervently.
*****
Elladan and Elrohir knew at once what was going on when Estel asked if he might spend the day with them. They were not thrown off by his multitude of lies, creative and well-developed as they were, but they humored Estel, for his intentions were good and his aims true. For many hours the twins were bombarded with questions--"What is this?" "How does this happen?" "What would happen if?"--which they found difficult to endure. Estel was doing his absolute best not to be unobtrusive, and as any loving brother would Elladan and Elrohir withstood.
So things went on, with Estel finding a grown Elf to cling to until he was sent away. He did not see that his presence began something of a burden upon occasion. After a time Estel had so much pent-up energy that he began carrying notes between the twins and their father, and enjoyed his dashing from place to place with notes clutched in his hands--until he heard something he would rather have missed.
". . .you keep defending him I cannot understand."
"You just do not understand children, Glorfindel," Elrond replied. "Maybe Estel does not meet the great expectations set before him--yet. But you must have faith that, in time, he will."
"It is more than that," Glorfindel said. "He hardly seems civil or moral, Elrond--and I mean you no offense by this, you do the best you can with him, but--"
Glorfindel did not finish, because suddenly the sound of boots squeaking against the floor as someone ran quite quickly interrupted him, and Elrond stood at once and gazed down the corridor. "He heard you," Elrond said. He was rather angry, as angry as he ever was, because even if Estel was not ethical--that is, did not follow the codes of conduct of society--he was moral, following his own code of conduct, and he tried as hard as any boy could.
Elrond's thoughts, sadly, could not reach Estel's head. The boy ran hard, out into the blinding sunlight of the afternoon, and, with incredible bad luck, right into Anterrabae. "Well, look who it is!" Anterrabae spat venom. "Little round-eared mortal-mutt back for more?" he asked, not even bothering with "formalities".
"Do not speak to me like that, Anterrabae," Estel requested, or demanded.
"What are you going to do?" Anterrabae taunted, "make me?"
Estel did. In seconds he had pinned Anterrabae to the ground and was pummeling him with a strength of anger few had ever seen before. Estel himself had not seen this anger, nor felt it, not since that day in the library, but it felt good. Anger, letting go--it was liberation.
And every liberation came with a price. Estel, exhausted, stood up at exactly the wrong time. "Oh, Estel," Elrond muttered, and shook his head. Estel was paralyzed with some unknown emotion. The release he had felt moments before drained away, as Anterrabae slunk off behind him. Just as Estel opened his mouth to speak, Elrond turned and slowly walked away.
That night Estel did not leave his room, by choice, not even to wash the blood from his hands and face. He stripped off his tunic and used that as a towel, pulling the red from his skin. Splotches appeared and grew on the fabric. Estel enjoyed watching them expand.
There came a knock at the door, and a call of, "Estel, are you all right?"
For a moment Estel dared hope it was Elrond, and that he had not failed so miserably, but his hope was in vain. "I am fine, Elladan! Please leave me in peace!"
"Aye, brother," Elladan replied, and added to himself, "if this is what you call peace."
Estel heard his brother's words, and threw the soiled tunic at the door, shouting, "It is, I'll have you know!" He felt terrible after that, having hurt Elladan's feelings for no reason other than pride, but he did not find Elladan or call out an apology. Instead he stood before the mirror and hated himself. Estel ran a sweat hand over the sun-colored flesh of his arm, noting that all his bruises of fights had gone away. Amazingly all his bruises and scratches seemed to have healed well.
"And what right of mine is that?" he asked himself. "A bruise is a badge--a badge of shame, but also there is redemption, for the showing of shame brings humility and absolves the dishonor of one's offenses. Bear me now, my shame, as I bear you, and absolve yourself of me."
As he spoke these words Estel's mind sought freedom and found it, pulling lightly a small knife from beneath his pillow--paranoia courtesy of Elrohir's own. The metal caught a glint of the setting sun and flared, blinding had anyone been watching, as a ship that sends off a sign for help. Estel brought the bright tip to his arm and felt it poke through. A cool, calm feeling spread through him, from somewhere deep in his chest and throughout his limbs and mind. He pulled the blade across his flesh, feeling release.
Sweet, sweet release.
**
Fifteen minutes later Estel was still sprawled on the floor, enjoying the feeling of his shame seeping away with the blood--but the cut was clotting, and the blood needed to be mopped up lest suspicion be aroused. Snapping into action, Estel retrieved the dirty tunic from earlier and used it to sop up the blood on the floor, then held it against his arm.
"What am I going to do?" he asked, worried. "Someone will see this laceration, I am gong to be found at once!"
"Who will care?" asked a sly voice he had never heard before, a voice dripping with malice. "You think Lord Elrond cares about you? It does not seem likely, after the way you disappointed him today. Elladan is still angry at you for your words, and Elrohir will side by his twin. Who will care about lowly little you?"
"W-who are you?" Estel was frightened. Whoever it was, he wished they would reveal themselves. "Show yourself!"
"Show myself?" the voice cackled. "You are young, boy! But do not worry. . .you shall soon know me very well. You need not be afraid. I will not hurt you."
Estel closed his eyes lightly and breathed deeply, unsure of what to think. He let his thoughts flow freely, though lingering about them was that slimy, malicious voice he had heard before. "All right," he decided at last. "All right."
Orion: Thanks! Of course there's more, I haven't tortured the boy quite enough yet--and my friend is still cutting, so I can't call it quits yet. : )
*****
Elrond was glad that Estel was unconscious--this was really going to hurt him. As gently as possible he repositioned the two broken bones in Estel's hand, hoping the boy could not feel anything. Blood flowed freely from ragged cuts, and had had to be cleaned off before any damage could be assessed.
"How did this happen to you?" Elrond asked no one in particular. At the sound of a familiar voice Estel stirred, his eyes opened slightly. But he snapped shut his eyes again, upon seeing who it was that spoke. "You are awake, Estel," Elrond stated in a vague sort of angry tone.
Estel blushed as he opened his eyes again.
"Who did this to you? Who were you fighting?" Elrond demanded. At once he regretted it; his son was in great pain and all he could do was shout at him?
Estel shook his head, somewhere between reluctantly and fervently.
*****
Elladan and Elrohir knew at once what was going on when Estel asked if he might spend the day with them. They were not thrown off by his multitude of lies, creative and well-developed as they were, but they humored Estel, for his intentions were good and his aims true. For many hours the twins were bombarded with questions--"What is this?" "How does this happen?" "What would happen if?"--which they found difficult to endure. Estel was doing his absolute best not to be unobtrusive, and as any loving brother would Elladan and Elrohir withstood.
So things went on, with Estel finding a grown Elf to cling to until he was sent away. He did not see that his presence began something of a burden upon occasion. After a time Estel had so much pent-up energy that he began carrying notes between the twins and their father, and enjoyed his dashing from place to place with notes clutched in his hands--until he heard something he would rather have missed.
". . .you keep defending him I cannot understand."
"You just do not understand children, Glorfindel," Elrond replied. "Maybe Estel does not meet the great expectations set before him--yet. But you must have faith that, in time, he will."
"It is more than that," Glorfindel said. "He hardly seems civil or moral, Elrond--and I mean you no offense by this, you do the best you can with him, but--"
Glorfindel did not finish, because suddenly the sound of boots squeaking against the floor as someone ran quite quickly interrupted him, and Elrond stood at once and gazed down the corridor. "He heard you," Elrond said. He was rather angry, as angry as he ever was, because even if Estel was not ethical--that is, did not follow the codes of conduct of society--he was moral, following his own code of conduct, and he tried as hard as any boy could.
Elrond's thoughts, sadly, could not reach Estel's head. The boy ran hard, out into the blinding sunlight of the afternoon, and, with incredible bad luck, right into Anterrabae. "Well, look who it is!" Anterrabae spat venom. "Little round-eared mortal-mutt back for more?" he asked, not even bothering with "formalities".
"Do not speak to me like that, Anterrabae," Estel requested, or demanded.
"What are you going to do?" Anterrabae taunted, "make me?"
Estel did. In seconds he had pinned Anterrabae to the ground and was pummeling him with a strength of anger few had ever seen before. Estel himself had not seen this anger, nor felt it, not since that day in the library, but it felt good. Anger, letting go--it was liberation.
And every liberation came with a price. Estel, exhausted, stood up at exactly the wrong time. "Oh, Estel," Elrond muttered, and shook his head. Estel was paralyzed with some unknown emotion. The release he had felt moments before drained away, as Anterrabae slunk off behind him. Just as Estel opened his mouth to speak, Elrond turned and slowly walked away.
That night Estel did not leave his room, by choice, not even to wash the blood from his hands and face. He stripped off his tunic and used that as a towel, pulling the red from his skin. Splotches appeared and grew on the fabric. Estel enjoyed watching them expand.
There came a knock at the door, and a call of, "Estel, are you all right?"
For a moment Estel dared hope it was Elrond, and that he had not failed so miserably, but his hope was in vain. "I am fine, Elladan! Please leave me in peace!"
"Aye, brother," Elladan replied, and added to himself, "if this is what you call peace."
Estel heard his brother's words, and threw the soiled tunic at the door, shouting, "It is, I'll have you know!" He felt terrible after that, having hurt Elladan's feelings for no reason other than pride, but he did not find Elladan or call out an apology. Instead he stood before the mirror and hated himself. Estel ran a sweat hand over the sun-colored flesh of his arm, noting that all his bruises of fights had gone away. Amazingly all his bruises and scratches seemed to have healed well.
"And what right of mine is that?" he asked himself. "A bruise is a badge--a badge of shame, but also there is redemption, for the showing of shame brings humility and absolves the dishonor of one's offenses. Bear me now, my shame, as I bear you, and absolve yourself of me."
As he spoke these words Estel's mind sought freedom and found it, pulling lightly a small knife from beneath his pillow--paranoia courtesy of Elrohir's own. The metal caught a glint of the setting sun and flared, blinding had anyone been watching, as a ship that sends off a sign for help. Estel brought the bright tip to his arm and felt it poke through. A cool, calm feeling spread through him, from somewhere deep in his chest and throughout his limbs and mind. He pulled the blade across his flesh, feeling release.
Sweet, sweet release.
**
Fifteen minutes later Estel was still sprawled on the floor, enjoying the feeling of his shame seeping away with the blood--but the cut was clotting, and the blood needed to be mopped up lest suspicion be aroused. Snapping into action, Estel retrieved the dirty tunic from earlier and used it to sop up the blood on the floor, then held it against his arm.
"What am I going to do?" he asked, worried. "Someone will see this laceration, I am gong to be found at once!"
"Who will care?" asked a sly voice he had never heard before, a voice dripping with malice. "You think Lord Elrond cares about you? It does not seem likely, after the way you disappointed him today. Elladan is still angry at you for your words, and Elrohir will side by his twin. Who will care about lowly little you?"
"W-who are you?" Estel was frightened. Whoever it was, he wished they would reveal themselves. "Show yourself!"
"Show myself?" the voice cackled. "You are young, boy! But do not worry. . .you shall soon know me very well. You need not be afraid. I will not hurt you."
Estel closed his eyes lightly and breathed deeply, unsure of what to think. He let his thoughts flow freely, though lingering about them was that slimy, malicious voice he had heard before. "All right," he decided at last. "All right."