A Lone Child

2 - Elrond

"Yet you will sunder us. Alas that our wills are so evenly matched!"

Yes... fifty bales of parchment seemed reasonable, in exchange for extending the perimeter of the southern outer patrol by half a league... but does the settlement include this ridge, because it'll be quite difficult to cover this area...

Elrond didn't know at first what halted the train of his thoughts and the scratchings of his quill. He hadn't heard the door open, and a glance showed no one else in room. Then he saw the fountain of light brown hairm at the edge of his desk, and beneath it, partially covered, very familiar deep blue eyes.

The eyes had been focused on the quill in his hand, and now that it had ceased moving the young gaze travelled upwards until it made contact with Elrond's. Upon which its owner emitted a soft gasp, and the little head disappeared behind the wood.

Elrond sighed. He knew that the child was intimidated of him, perhaps fearing him. He wasn't sure what to do about it; it had been over two thousand years since Arwen and the twins had been youngsters, and they hadn't been this shy of him (though Elrond had occasionally wished they were). As for the handful of Isildur's descendants that he had taken under his wing over the years, none had been deprived of their father and subsequently thrust into his care at such a young age. The Dunedain preferred to take care of their own. But Arathorn had been especially close to the twins, and the gift of foresight was stronger in him than many of his predecessors. Once he'd learned that Gilraen was pregnant, he had immediately sought out the Lord of Imladris to discuss his son's future. Elrond remembered the meeting, and even now found it hard to believe that the calm, charismatic young Captain of the Dunedain had known that he was going to die. Elrond hadn't met Estel until the twins brought him and his mother home three years ago, yet the moment he laid eyes on the boy he knew that Arathorn had been correct.

The head re-emerged, like a turtle from its shell, eyes wide with apprehension but at least meeting his gaze. Elrond could see the strength within them, still untested. Their deep blue colour- bordering on violet- would change, he knew, into a sharper grey-blue when the child got older. The twin's eyes had been like that, as well as his own.

Elrond came to the realisation that, as intimidated as the child was of him, he was similarly uncomfortable around the son of Arathorn. As long as Gilraen was present, a reminder of Estel's identity, the discomfort was barely noticeable. But in the rare times when it was only the two of them- today, for instance- he found it difficult to look upon that young, intelligent face for long. Even after three years it was a stranger to him, for he only saw the boy during mealtimes in most days, yet as the face was moulded by time and inherited blood, it was taking a peculiar resemblance to another face, becoming too familiar.

A tiny hand tentatively touching his brought Elrond back from his thoughts, and he realised that whilst he had been lost in his thoughts the child had walked around his desk and was now gazing at him inquisitively.

"Apologies, Estel, my mind was elsewhere," he quickly said. The boy nodded, then looked uncertain. "How may I help you, little one?"

Estel hesitated, eyes going to examine his feet. Then he contorted his facial expression to convey what Elrond deciphered as extreme frustration. At first the Half-Elf was puzzled. Perhaps the child missed his mother? Of course he does, but that is not what he is trying to say. Without warning, a memory surfaced from a particular pool that he had locked away a long time ago. He quickly banished it, but not before he understood its relevance to his current situation. He inwardly groaned.

"Are you bored, Estel?" he asked frankly, and sighed at the boy's affirmative nod. "Did your naneth not leave you with some project, some task to complete before her return?" The child shook his head.

Elrond frowned. He had initially been puzzled when Gilraen had politely declined his offer of hiring a temporary nurse or attendant for Estel during her absence, and had thus assumed that she'd at least leave the child with something to do. Then again, Estel was her first child, and Elrond still wondered if the twins' mischevious streak had been awakened by his lack of planning one summer when Celebrian left for a visit to Lothlorien.

"The twins are with your naneth. Glorfindel is out on the northern patrol, and Erestor has chosen today of all days to rearrange the library," Elrond said. He didn't know who else of his household could take care of the child. Not for lack of trust- though not every Elf in the House knew of Estel's heritage (and certainly none outside it, for the fewer that knew the truth the less likely the news will get to the Enemy) but more of his people's lack of experience with human children that made Elrond reluctant to entrust Estel to anyone outside the family. Save Glorfindel and Erestor, of course.

"Would you like to read a book?" Elrond asked, then realised that he didn't know if the child was able to, yet. "Have you been taught your letters yet, child?"he re-phrased the question. Estel shook his head.

Elrond cast his eyes around his office, searching for ideas, when another tentative touch on his hand brought his gaze back to the boy.

"Can you teach me?" The words were quiet, uncertain, but clear. The big blue orbs gazed at him expectantly. Elrond opened his mouth to say a gently 'no', then paused. His eyes flickered back to his half-finished reply to a recent proposal from a human settlement just outside their southern border.

"To be a King is to hold the fate of thousands, yet I can assure you that being a father is thrice as perilous."

Elrond blinked. How long had it been since those words had been uttered? Yet the memory was still fresh, as raw to his heart as the day it had taken place. How could he deny a child, today of all days? He put away his quill and parchments.

"Of course, little one."