A Lone Child

4 - Elrond

"We are not equals, muindor; you are ever wiser and stronger than I. If I could but see beyond my grief at our separation! But all that matters to me is that you will leave me, and I shall be truly alone, when I have never been alone in my life."

When the child began to rub his eyes tiredly, Elrond glanced outside and saw that they'd been working for over four hours. This discovery prompted him to look at the little boy beside him with wonder and a touch of respect. Not even Elrohir had had such patience when he learned his letters, and the younger son of Elrond was rumoured to be the only to have finished his father's collection besides Elrond himself. The Lord of Imladris smiled; he could still remember the surprise on Celebrian's face when he had first told her about his own youth. He may be a renowned loremaster and head of the White Council in this day and Age, but he had been the less studious twin by far.

The memory of his wife had probably been brought on by the miasma of roses. As the library was out of bounds and his office would keep reminding him of his work, he'd decided that the lesson take place on an outdoor stone bench and table near the centre of his private garden, ideally shaded by a pine tree. At one point he'd left the boy on a writing exercise and located the watering can, only to discover that the flowers had already been watered. Estel had then admitted- with some trepidation- to doing the job that morning.

Elrond had smiled and thanked the boy, returning to the bench. But the memories, as if being locked away for so long had built up a sort of pressure, spilled through his mind in furious procession, and though he continued the boy's instruction, during the silences the past rose up and punished him for neglecting it for so long.

Celebrian had loved roses. She had covered the garden with them, and he remembered the countless afternoons he blissfully spent just watching her tend to them. She'd infected the children with her love for green, growing things. After her departure, the twins found tending the garden too painful a reminder of her that they had lost. For a long while Elrond, too, couldn't walk the garden without being painfully reminded of her. Eventually he had placed all the red rose bushes in the twins' plots, so that they wouldn't be barren, and in their own time the twins came and began seeing to the roses themselves.

Bathed in the breath of roses, Elrond realised that he had spent more time that day reliving the past than he had in a long time. Arwen's prolonged absence and the twin's constant forays with the Dunedain had allowed his work as the Lord of Imladris to occupy more and more of his time. When was the last time Elrond had simply walked through Rivendell, reacquainting himself with the people and the daily life of his little settlement? It would have been just like him to use this day of all days to remind me of obligations and priorities.

The old volume that now lay open in front of Estel at the page displaying the Tengwar alphabet, propped up by a stone, was yet another painful reminder on top of all the others. He had chosen it because it was the twins' first book as well, and he hadn't remembered the handprints on the first page until it was too late.

When Estel completed the last letter, Elrond took the piece of charcoal away. "That is quite enough for today, little one." Half-Elf and boy examined Estel's handiwork; the word 'Estel' had been copied repeatedly down a large sheet of low-grade paper in the flowing script of the Tengwar.

"This is very good work," Elrond complimented the child. Indeed it was; the charcoal was smudged in many areas, and the irregularity in the sizes of the letters made it clear that the hand holding the charcoal was unused to its task, but the script was clear and readable. And the boy could already read- albeit slowly- a whole paragraph of basic text, though he still needed to refer to the book. Elrond felt he was justified in feeling proud of his new student.

"Thank you," Estel said shyly, though his face glowed.

A persistent voice at the back of his mind reminded Elrond that he had used up the dat to teach the boy how to read and write, and that tomorrow his workload would undoubtedly be twice as heavy, but at the moment, seeing the pure joy radiating from the child made him feel that it was worthwhile.

Just then the chimes from the kitchens announced that dinner was to be served within the hour. Though as Master of the House he wasn't constrained to the timetable, Elrond respected his staff and always ate the same time as everybody else so that they would not have to prepare his meal separately. At times his duties would prevent him from doing so, of course, but he often tried his best.

As if on cue, a loud growl emanated from Estel's stomach, much to boy's obvious consternation.

Elrond frowned. "When was the last time you ate, child?"

"When I broke fast with you, Master," Estel replied, wiping the charcoal on his hands off on his trousers. Elrond instinctively stopped him, remembering how displeased the washers were (not to mention his wife) when he had let the twins' get their clothes dirty in their play.

"So you haven't eaten since this morning?" he asked incredulously. Estel nodded, looking worried at Elrond's tone. Somewhat alarmed (and perplexed as to why the child hadn't mentioned that he was hungry, considering the voracious appetite of children), Elrond quickly packed away the writing equipment and the book. He dropped them off at his office, then led the child towards the private dining hall, where he discreetly instructed the servants to bring in slightly more food for Estel than usual.

The boy didn't seemt to notice the extra servings, and certainly didn't seem to mind. Elrond was bit concerned at the speed and quantity in which the dinner was consumed, but did not comment. He silently admonished himself for letting the child go hungry. He was quite out of touch with parentage, but mere courtesy alone should have prompted him to inquire if the boy had had lunch.

Despite the urgings of the part of his mind that ruled Rivendell for him to return to his office immediately and burn the midnight oil to complete the day's work, Elrond for the most part was in a peculiar mood. He knew that even if he returned to his office and buried himself with tactical maps and trade figures, the ghosts of the past would still do their merry dance around him. The nights were always worse. He had suffered reawakened grief in solitude far too many times, and tonight he wondered if the presence of the child would ease the pain a little, remind him of old promises and the hope in the future.

Elrond made sure to eat slowly so as to finish the same time as Estel. When the boy finally pushed back his plate and glanced at him uncertainly, the Half-Elf beckoned for the child to follow him.

As they stepped out of the dining-room, Elrond felt a tiny hand slip into his own. Taken aback, the Elf-lord looked down and encountered wide blue eyes, still with hesitation around the edges, but placing a great deal of trust in him. Elrond couldn't help but smile, and was rewarded with a look of pure happiness that only a child could achieve. He close his hand around Estel's in a gentle grip, and headed for the Hall of Fire.