Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters
and/or places thereof.
Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long. I meant to have it out sooner, but school got so crazy. . .
Writer From Rivendell: Oh, don't worry. No matter how much Estel suffers, and I do not yet know how much that will be, but by the end of this story, either he will be safe, or there will be a sequel. Yeah, guilt's a terror. It is amazing, the power of one's own heart.
Lady of the Forest: Hurting a rock is not exactly going to help him. . .
MusicGrl: I was twelve. Had a recent birthday. I'm thirteen now. But I'll take that as a compliment, anyway! No, she isn't. She's still cutting. She hides it by keeping safety pins in her underwear and only cutting on her legs. She's a terror in a swimsuit. Things are really bad for her right now. But thank you for your concern.
Anonymous: I'm glad you are over that, and thanks.
Nethene Khthon: Thanks. I'm not American myself, but it does not surprise me that Americans often have self-esteem problems, because frankly everybody everywhere often has self-esteem problems. Thanks from my friend, and from me.
KitKatGirl: Not the Flintstones vitamins, those are good. Do they make those anymore? I took them when I was younger.
Knows all too well: I know, I know. . .**is very guilty**. . .school got crazy and. . .yeah. No, I've never heard that song. That's okay, yammer all you like. And no more relapses! Have hope!
*****
"What am I going to do, Elladan?" Estel asked, trying hard not to cry.
"I. . .I do not honestly know," Elladan replied. Estel's chin trembled. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, I'm fine. . .Elrohir? Would you insult the Dwarves, please?" Estel and Elrohir had an ongoing debate--really more of a joke--about the Dwarves. Elrohir hated them, Estel defended them.
"Uh. . .the, uh. . .the Dwarves cannot make weaponry to save their lives, and that is a fact."
"No, it is not a fact! It is not a fact, because without Dwarves axes and mail all you would have would be your stupid. . .stupid noldor-made bows, and then the Orcs would get close to you and kill you all because of your useless noldor-made weapons!" Estel ranted, but even as he did so he cried. Defeated, he turned to Elladan, who gently took the boy under his arm and allowed him to cry safely for as long as he needed.
*****
It was Haldir's fault. The truth of the matter is that it was Haldir's fault. He did not know what was going on, truly, and had no idea what he was meddling in. Nevertheless--it happened.
Estel and Glorfindel got on well by this time. Most of the time they were teacher and pupil, sometimes almost friends, but always on good terms. One particular day, about three months after Estel had decided to stop hurting himself, he ran into Glorfindel in the corridor. "Hello there, Estel."
"Hello Glorfindel."
"You have to go this way," Glorfindel informed him, pointing to his left.
"But it would be quicker for me to get to my destination going that way," Estel argued, pointing about ninety degrees right of where Glorfindel had suggested.
"I'm sorry, Estel, you need to go the other way."
"Why?"
"That's none of your business."
"Why are you being so mean? Yes, it is my business, you have just redirected me and I want to know why!"
"And it is not your place to ask me. You are a child, Estel, do not forget that simply because of your father--"
"That is not why!" Estel said, angry. "I just want to know why I have to go a different way, is it so hard to tell me? It is not as though I mean to hurt anybody, I just want to know! Sheesh!" After this rant he turned and he walked off, saying, "You expect direct obedience. What do you think this is, the Second Age?"
Just then Haldir happened to have entered the hall, and with his acute Elven hearing, he had overheard everything. "Now I am offended," he stated, giving Estel a cold feeling in his very heart. "Excuse me, young Elf, come here a moment."
Estel found no reason to obey. He was not an Elf, and therefore the blonde Elf--Estel did not yet know his name--was not talking to him. He kept walking until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Haldir spun him around. "Why did you not listen to me? I asked you to come here," Haldir stated.
"No, you asked a young Elf to come to you," Estel replied, angry enough to spit, and he tugged back his hair to reveal rounded ears.
"You knew I meant you--"
"As the only edan in Imladris? No, I didn't."
"Well, boy, this may not be the Second Age, but let me tell you something: yes, we do expect obedience. You are a child and, as we are adults, that places us in the position of authority, and whether you like it or not you have to accept that."
"I know--"
Haldir took no note of him. "And also, simply because we are people, a little courtesy is expected."
Here Estel was ready to fold his arms across his chest and ask if this Elf if he was owed the same courtesy. His thoughts flashed to Anterrabae, and he was ready to tell that Lothlorien Elf exactly what he thought of him and his ideals, when he was interrupted by Elrond. "Oh, Haldir, I see you have met Estel," Elrond said, as this were a very good thing.
"Yes," Haldir replied, locking eyes with Estel. Estel glared right back, unfortunately quite noticeably.
"Oh, Estel, do not do that! Haldir is a guest, be polite," Elrond told him. Estel rolled his eyes and bowed, lying through his teeth that he was more than glad to meet Haldir, and had he enjoyed being in Imladris?
For the rest of the day Estel thought little of this confrontation, although he had cried a bit once he was clear of it. Then that night, as he exhaustedly closed his book and blew out the candle he had lit, his eyes closed, and played back that terrible moment. Estel felt warm all over again, felt the pain and the anger and the humiliation. Why were children inferior? he wondered. I just wanted to know why I had to go somewhere else! His thoughts surged onwards. Estel could not see where he had gone wrong.
He groaned and pulled the pillow and covers over his head, shivering, until he was nothing but a lump of cloth that moved quite quickly back and forth. Hot tears seeped through his closed eyelids, matting his lashes together. Cold laughter rang in his ears. Was it an echo, or was it a premonition? Estel tried to ignore it, but it would not go away. Finally he threw back the covers and sprang from the bed, dashing out into the corridor.
Estel's feet slapped the cold corridor floor, making quite a lot of noise. The cold hit him by the time he was half-way down the hall, nearing his brothers' rooms. The boy shivered all over, the fear-anger shivers of earlier and cold, wishing he had thought to dress properly. There was a metal pin in his underpants, and against his skin it felt like ice. He kept metal pins in all of his underclothes, claiming he was afraid he would rip his pants whenever they were found--which was not often.
"Elrohir," Estel called softly, hoping not to wake up anyone but his brother, knocking on the door. "Elrohir!" No one came. After a few moments he tried again. Elves, he knew, were light sleepers. Did Elrohir not hear him? As loud as he dared, Estel called out, "Elrohir!"
When again no one came, Estel turned away. He padded back down the hall, shut his door, got into bed, and closed his eyes. Go to sleep, he told himself, and just as he was falling into a deep darkness, the face of the Lothlorien Elf appeared before him. "No!" Estel gasped, sitting up. He slipped the pin out of his underclothes and pressed it into the soft flesh of his arm, drawing it across. . .
Estel did not even need blood. He cut into a place where fat lay beneath the flesh, and that hurt terribly. Sighing, Estel let his head loll backwards. After six gashes, three on his arm and three on his leg, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
*****
TBC
Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long. I meant to have it out sooner, but school got so crazy. . .
Writer From Rivendell: Oh, don't worry. No matter how much Estel suffers, and I do not yet know how much that will be, but by the end of this story, either he will be safe, or there will be a sequel. Yeah, guilt's a terror. It is amazing, the power of one's own heart.
Lady of the Forest: Hurting a rock is not exactly going to help him. . .
MusicGrl: I was twelve. Had a recent birthday. I'm thirteen now. But I'll take that as a compliment, anyway! No, she isn't. She's still cutting. She hides it by keeping safety pins in her underwear and only cutting on her legs. She's a terror in a swimsuit. Things are really bad for her right now. But thank you for your concern.
Anonymous: I'm glad you are over that, and thanks.
Nethene Khthon: Thanks. I'm not American myself, but it does not surprise me that Americans often have self-esteem problems, because frankly everybody everywhere often has self-esteem problems. Thanks from my friend, and from me.
KitKatGirl: Not the Flintstones vitamins, those are good. Do they make those anymore? I took them when I was younger.
Knows all too well: I know, I know. . .**is very guilty**. . .school got crazy and. . .yeah. No, I've never heard that song. That's okay, yammer all you like. And no more relapses! Have hope!
*****
"What am I going to do, Elladan?" Estel asked, trying hard not to cry.
"I. . .I do not honestly know," Elladan replied. Estel's chin trembled. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, I'm fine. . .Elrohir? Would you insult the Dwarves, please?" Estel and Elrohir had an ongoing debate--really more of a joke--about the Dwarves. Elrohir hated them, Estel defended them.
"Uh. . .the, uh. . .the Dwarves cannot make weaponry to save their lives, and that is a fact."
"No, it is not a fact! It is not a fact, because without Dwarves axes and mail all you would have would be your stupid. . .stupid noldor-made bows, and then the Orcs would get close to you and kill you all because of your useless noldor-made weapons!" Estel ranted, but even as he did so he cried. Defeated, he turned to Elladan, who gently took the boy under his arm and allowed him to cry safely for as long as he needed.
*****
It was Haldir's fault. The truth of the matter is that it was Haldir's fault. He did not know what was going on, truly, and had no idea what he was meddling in. Nevertheless--it happened.
Estel and Glorfindel got on well by this time. Most of the time they were teacher and pupil, sometimes almost friends, but always on good terms. One particular day, about three months after Estel had decided to stop hurting himself, he ran into Glorfindel in the corridor. "Hello there, Estel."
"Hello Glorfindel."
"You have to go this way," Glorfindel informed him, pointing to his left.
"But it would be quicker for me to get to my destination going that way," Estel argued, pointing about ninety degrees right of where Glorfindel had suggested.
"I'm sorry, Estel, you need to go the other way."
"Why?"
"That's none of your business."
"Why are you being so mean? Yes, it is my business, you have just redirected me and I want to know why!"
"And it is not your place to ask me. You are a child, Estel, do not forget that simply because of your father--"
"That is not why!" Estel said, angry. "I just want to know why I have to go a different way, is it so hard to tell me? It is not as though I mean to hurt anybody, I just want to know! Sheesh!" After this rant he turned and he walked off, saying, "You expect direct obedience. What do you think this is, the Second Age?"
Just then Haldir happened to have entered the hall, and with his acute Elven hearing, he had overheard everything. "Now I am offended," he stated, giving Estel a cold feeling in his very heart. "Excuse me, young Elf, come here a moment."
Estel found no reason to obey. He was not an Elf, and therefore the blonde Elf--Estel did not yet know his name--was not talking to him. He kept walking until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Haldir spun him around. "Why did you not listen to me? I asked you to come here," Haldir stated.
"No, you asked a young Elf to come to you," Estel replied, angry enough to spit, and he tugged back his hair to reveal rounded ears.
"You knew I meant you--"
"As the only edan in Imladris? No, I didn't."
"Well, boy, this may not be the Second Age, but let me tell you something: yes, we do expect obedience. You are a child and, as we are adults, that places us in the position of authority, and whether you like it or not you have to accept that."
"I know--"
Haldir took no note of him. "And also, simply because we are people, a little courtesy is expected."
Here Estel was ready to fold his arms across his chest and ask if this Elf if he was owed the same courtesy. His thoughts flashed to Anterrabae, and he was ready to tell that Lothlorien Elf exactly what he thought of him and his ideals, when he was interrupted by Elrond. "Oh, Haldir, I see you have met Estel," Elrond said, as this were a very good thing.
"Yes," Haldir replied, locking eyes with Estel. Estel glared right back, unfortunately quite noticeably.
"Oh, Estel, do not do that! Haldir is a guest, be polite," Elrond told him. Estel rolled his eyes and bowed, lying through his teeth that he was more than glad to meet Haldir, and had he enjoyed being in Imladris?
For the rest of the day Estel thought little of this confrontation, although he had cried a bit once he was clear of it. Then that night, as he exhaustedly closed his book and blew out the candle he had lit, his eyes closed, and played back that terrible moment. Estel felt warm all over again, felt the pain and the anger and the humiliation. Why were children inferior? he wondered. I just wanted to know why I had to go somewhere else! His thoughts surged onwards. Estel could not see where he had gone wrong.
He groaned and pulled the pillow and covers over his head, shivering, until he was nothing but a lump of cloth that moved quite quickly back and forth. Hot tears seeped through his closed eyelids, matting his lashes together. Cold laughter rang in his ears. Was it an echo, or was it a premonition? Estel tried to ignore it, but it would not go away. Finally he threw back the covers and sprang from the bed, dashing out into the corridor.
Estel's feet slapped the cold corridor floor, making quite a lot of noise. The cold hit him by the time he was half-way down the hall, nearing his brothers' rooms. The boy shivered all over, the fear-anger shivers of earlier and cold, wishing he had thought to dress properly. There was a metal pin in his underpants, and against his skin it felt like ice. He kept metal pins in all of his underclothes, claiming he was afraid he would rip his pants whenever they were found--which was not often.
"Elrohir," Estel called softly, hoping not to wake up anyone but his brother, knocking on the door. "Elrohir!" No one came. After a few moments he tried again. Elves, he knew, were light sleepers. Did Elrohir not hear him? As loud as he dared, Estel called out, "Elrohir!"
When again no one came, Estel turned away. He padded back down the hall, shut his door, got into bed, and closed his eyes. Go to sleep, he told himself, and just as he was falling into a deep darkness, the face of the Lothlorien Elf appeared before him. "No!" Estel gasped, sitting up. He slipped the pin out of his underclothes and pressed it into the soft flesh of his arm, drawing it across. . .
Estel did not even need blood. He cut into a place where fat lay beneath the flesh, and that hurt terribly. Sighing, Estel let his head loll backwards. After six gashes, three on his arm and three on his leg, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
*****
TBC