To Be No More
Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything that Tolkien created. If I did, it would be my creation, get it?
WARNING: This is a dark piece, AND AN AU that just suddenly popped into my head along with evil plot bunnies and giant carrots. I most likely will never write another piece like this again and if so, I, of course, will warn you. THIS PIECE IS AU AND DEALS WITH A YOUNG SUICIDE. Please DO NOT READ THIS IF THIS IDEA BOTHERS YOU.
Summary: AU Twelve-year-old Estel is being teased by the other elflings. Again. He cannot handle this any more. It never gets better like Ada says it will. Estel finds a way out… a way that will dismay the hearts of our favorite Peredhil family…. WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS BEFORE YOU READ THE WARNING INSIDE!!!! THIS IS AN AU! For anyone who wants a good cry.
Authors Note: I cried like a baby when I wrote this. It's so sad. I couldn't imagine this happening, but it popped into my head and wouldn't leave. I suppose because I needed a good cry, but I regret getting that in this way. Apologies to all Estel fans out there, I'm one of them.
Estel ran as fast as his trembling legs would carry him. Silver tears cascaded down his young, boyish face. Never again, he thought. I will never try to be like them again. It never works! These thoughts brought more sobs that wracked his small frame as he ran for his sanctuary: his room.
He rounded the corner and flew into his room, slamming the door shut. He collapsed, weeping, onto his bed and tried to calm himself. He was unsuccessful.
Puny human! It's a wonder Lord Elrond ever looked at you twice!
The elflings' taunts ran teasingly through his head, and along with the words, the faces would appear, a scornful look upon each one.
Lord Elrond merely keeps you out of pity, but he agrees with my father! You should've been fed to the wargs!
Today, the taunts had gotten meaner than usual. …fed to the wargs! Those words replayed in his head as he saw the face of Telepdil appear. This was too much… it was overwhelming him.
The preteen's eyes traveled frantically over the many items in his room, desperately looking for something that would help ease his pain. Silver orbs locked onto a sharp object gleaming in the sun on his windowsill. His dagger. Elladan and Elrohir had only given him that dagger for his birthday this year because he was sufficiently trained and knew enough to not hurt himself. Or so they thought.
Don't do this! a voice in his head spoke. Don't do this! What would the other elflings think of you if you did? How would that make Ada feel? What about Elrohir and Elladan?
"They wouldn't miss me," he murmured to himself, thoughts dwelling on Telepdil. "And the elflings would be glad that I'm gone."
Then run away! the voice pleaded desperately. Don't kill yourself! You are a child of Ilúvatar!
"Ada would get mad if I ran away," Estel answered, tears filling his eyes at the thought of his elven father. He wasn't sure he completely believed Telepdil, but the thought still hurt. "He forbid me to go out of Imladris without Elladan or Elrohir." The tears slowly made their way down his cheeks and he brushed them away viscously. This was getting him nowhere. The thoughts of his family were too fresh, too painful and they were just making him cry more. His eyes traveled to the window, where the sun was just about to set. If he was going to do something, he had better do it now. Soon one of the twins or a servant would come for him for dinner.
Estel gradually got on his feet and walked towards his dresser. His fist closed around the hilt of the dagger and he picked it up. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. The dagger felt unusually heavy in his hand. His eyes roamed over and over it, from its sharp tip to its blunt handle. He felt strangely detached as he made a small cut into the vein on his left wrist. It stung, but it took the emotional pain away for a while. The feeling was actually… invigorating.
He cut himself again, making this one deeper and longer. Pain exploded in his arm and it felt like every nerve was on fire. But the emotional trauma was chased away. Smiling slightly, he made one big, deep incision in his lower arm and wallowed in the comfort it caused. He was feeling more tired now, but Estel didn't dwell on such feelings.
Frowning, he looked at his bloody arm. Some of the red liquid had dripped onto his carpet and stood out against the deep blue. He looked at his arm again and saw that there was no place to cut. His right arm was bare. Estel went all the way and made one big gash on his lower arm, then collapsed to his knees.
His eyelids were drooping and blood was trickling like a stream down his arm. It was pooling on the blue carpet, but he found he didn't care. It felt as if his life was draining away from him.
Estel's eyes widened. He realized. He was dying. His life was fleeing his body and taking along with it all his pain and grief. Estel smiled slightly. He was being set free.
His body began to feel cold. For a fleeting moment, the child was actually scared. What was going to happen when he died? But then he found that he didn't care. He didn't care as long as he was far away from here, far away from all his problems and weaknesses….
His breathing was slowing down and he was slumping more. It was a matter of seconds before it was all over. Ilúvatar, his dying thoughts were, please protect Ada and Elladan and Elrohir. Please watch over them. Then he took his last breath and his spirit fled. He exhaled and did not inhale again. The beating of his heart ceased. It was over. He had escaped the pain and his weaknesses, as was his desire. He had escaped the elflings and their taunts. But he had died without knowing how much the family he left behind truly did care for him. While he had still held them in his heart, he had died thinking that he was not in theirs. He was terribly wrong.
Elladan and Elrohir walked down the corridor to their little brother's room, bickering about their archery contest.
"I won, Elrohir! Stop acting like a child!" Elladan said.
"Then I challenge you to a rematch," his twin stated simply. "One where a certain elf that I know is not chattering incessantly in my ear and making me miss my mark!" Elladan began sputtering indignantly as they continued down the stone hall. Estel had not shown up when dinner began so the twins had volunteered to fetch him. They loved him as much as they loved Arwen, Elrond, and even Celebrían.
"Shh…" Elrohir said, holding up a hand to stop his brother's attempts at innocence. The hairs on the backs of their necks stood on edge as Elladan, too, listened.
"I do not hear anything in Estel's room," he deadpanned. A quick meeting of eyes was all it took for the brothers to panic full out and take off running towards Estel's room. The mahogany door was closed, but the child had not locked it. Elrohir's hand hovered fearfully over the doorknob when he didn't hear signs of life from inside. They thought that Estel must be outside, playing in the woods or on the training grounds, in the dark as Elrond had forbade him. That thought worried them.
At Elladan's reassuring nod, the younger twin pushed the door open and gasped. Neither of them had been even slightly prepared for the sight that met them.
"NO!" Elladan's heart screamed, but it was a trembling whisper that left his lips. The twins quickly made their way over to their brother's broken body, arms drenched in blood. Tears cascaded like a waterfall down the Peredhil's cheeks as Elladan held his youngest brother's body and clutched it close to his chest. He sat down on the rug and slowly rocked back and forth, sniffling, his tears falling into the curly dark hair.
Elrohir's hand tentatively reached out and stroked the dark mass of curls. This couldn't be happening…. Then he latched himself onto his brothers, holding them both in his arms, trying desperately, futilely, to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
"Estel," Elladan muttered in disbelief. "Estel, wake up, tithen muindor. Please."
"Estel," Elrohir murmured with his brother. They couldn't believe this. "No…."
Their worlds had shattered. They always knew that their little brother would die before them, but he was so young…. He was only twelve!
Elrohir despairingly searched for his brother's pulse as Elladan still rocked him gently back and forth, as if soothing the child of nightmares as they used to when he was younger. Finding none, Elrohir sobbed harder, but didn't give up.
Thus Elrond found them, when halfway through dinner none of his sons presented themselves. The sight that met him was one that would forever give him nightmares, worse than the ones from when his wife had returned from her orc imprisonment.
Elladan was clinging to the seemingly lifeless body of his youngest, Estel. Elrohir was miserably searching for a pulse, some sign of life. Both twins were sobbing harder than even when they had said goodbye to their mother. That was only a temporary farewell.
Tears fell down the Elf Lord's fair cheeks as he strode with all haste towards his sons. He put one hand on Elrohir's shoulder, which caused the younger elf to stop. He looked up at him with misty, pleading grey eyes. Gently, Elrond took Estel's body out of Elladan's grasp.
His Healer instincts took hold of him. The flesh of the boy was already cooling and his arms were wet with blood. Trying, and failing, to swallow the lump in his throat, Elrond continued Elrohir's job. He, too, was unsuccessful. He choked before letting his defenses fall and he began weeping over the body of his lost son.
Elrohir couldn't bear to look at his father any longer. It wasn't true! It couldn't be true! They were supposed to be in Valinor by the time their little brother took his last breath. How could this have happened? He averted his gave to the floor, then to his twin.
Elladan couldn't stand to look at the broken body of his youngest brother either. The pain he felt in his heart was greater than any pain he had ever felt times twenty. What had they done wrong? What had driven their little brother, a mere child, to such extremes? Had they been neglecting him? Elladan met his brother's sorrowful gaze and they clung to each other. They held on for life and cried on the others shoulder.
The three Peredhil sat there for hours, mourning the loss of the youngest son of Elrond, each with guilt in his heart.
A/N- Well that was the long-awaited To Be No More. I hope (or do I hope that you didn't?) enjoy that. I don't know which would be worse…. Well, anyway, that'll be my last dark fic, I can tell you, for at least a long time. I think that next (tomorrow) I'll probably begin posting my other young Estel AU about Gilraen in Imladris. After that, AUs are also probably going to be done for a while, though you never quite know, do you?
Well, thank you for reading! Now, if you could just put those shotguns and pitchforks away for a while…. Yes, please review! Tell me if you loved it or hated it (and if you hated it, if it's because Estel, well, the light of Hope went out, then I am in your league). Each review I personally take into account because the readers mean everything! Thanks again!
I also have to mention that I did separate the story into groups, but from the preview on FF, the things that I use to separate the groups of the story it doesn't seem to hold. I tried everything I could think of but nothing seems to work, so I apologize. :'(