2723
BS
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and all its characters, places, plot, etc. belong to other people. Too many to list them all. No infringement intended. Not claiming it as my own . . . not that it really matters. -sigh-
Warnings: Drama, AU-ness.
Notes: Hah ha! Oh ho oho ho. Umm . . . hahaha. It's just one of those fics. Hahaha.
Ack! The dreaded OC. But, no fears, he is not a main character and I'm getting him out of the way as soon as possible.

Ephemeral

chapter ten

The noon bell chimed, and Estel looked out his window. He knew that the chime had sounded because there were more people suddenly on the grounds. Over the years, he had trained himself to have an awareness of the time. He could not see the council itself, but there were no people leaving the area. He sighed and returned to his bed, wondering what was happening. Things had been chaotic in Rivendell over the past two weeks. Word had come that Mithrandir had disappeared, then riders were sent out to look for a hobbit -- a very special hobbit, by the look of it. Mithrandir had suddenly appeared, grim-faced and worried. Days later, Glorfindel and other Elves had ridden in with a wounded creature. He had not recognized it for a hobbit at first -- so wraith-like it had appeared. Elrond had spent hours treating the halfling, and he had barely lived. Estel had looked in on it once -- the pale skin, like wax, the curly dark hair. It was a simple creature dressed quaintly and with an innocent face. There had been another with him at his bedside, and this halfling had been very rude to him -- had even asked if he worked for the Enemy! Estel had only known the one hobbit, Bilbo, and only from a distance. His personal experience was lacking, and he did not trust everything he had read in books to decide his judgement on the people.

Estel did not understand the strange guests his father brought into their home. Wizards, dwarves, and hobbits -- as his son had told him they were called -- all came and went as was their wont. He did not understand his son's fascination with them, either. He knew that Anarion was exposed to the world -- cultured in his time with the Rangers. On his seldom visits home, the man spoke in odd tongues and always had new wounds for Lord Elrond to doctor. There was a rift between Estel and the man. When the baby had been brought to Rivendell -- three months old -- Estel had ignored his misgivings and loved it anyway. He had held it and named it, and had done his best to raise it. Elrond and Elrohir and Elladan and Arwen did not treat this boy as they had treated him. They were kind to him, but they did not claim him as part of the family. There was a certain respect and fear that Estel knew he felt toward the Elves. He was distant and practically leapt at the chance to join his Ranger kindred in the North. Anarion had told him once that he could not enjoy time spent with his unlearned father, a man who tried to be an Elf and spent his time reading books. Estel had been hurt. He had never been able to see the world. He hoped, once his son took up the crown, that he could travel through the land. Presently, the roads were too dangerous.

The men of the land called his son 'Lastblood,' which was their translation for the name his son had taken to be a stealthy Ranger. It seemed as though everywhere the boy went he came back with a new title. He seemed to relish in his many aliases, though, and was fond of the peculiar looks he received when comrades addressed him in front of strangers. When the boy -- his sixty-three-year-old son -- took the throne, Estel knew that his name would be forever cemented as Anarion II. He would be a strong leader. He had the power to command his subjects. His half-brother, Theoden, ruled Rohan and would make a valuable ally. All of Middle-earth would be united. Presently, though, his son was in his father's council. Something important was happening with the creature -- hobbit, he reminded himself. His father had been grave-faced, and had sent his brothers on important errandry.

Estel stretched on the bed, then decided to leave his room. The day was wasting away. He met Arwen in the Hall of Fire, and she smiled at him broadly. He had gone there to think, but no harm would come of speaking with her. "The day seems to be somber," he said. He sat on the floor by her feet and gazed into the fire.

"Indeed," she said once he turned back to her. "They discuss the fate of the world while we brood." She glanced along the room, then told him conspiratorially, "You know what Frodo Baggins brought, do you not?"

"Baggins?" he repeated. "As in Father's guest that lurks around and never speaks with me?" He did not know the hobbit well. Had only been introduced to him a few years prior.

"Frodo is the nephew or cousin of that one. I am not certain." She glanced around the room again, but it was empty. "He brings the One Ring with him." Estel's eyes widened and he drew a sharp breath. He knew of the Ring, and was shocked that it had been so easily taken into his home. "What is more," Arwen was saying, "is strange things are happening in the East. No doubt Father will discuss this with you. I will not, even here in the sanctuary of our own home." He realized as she spoke that she was not speaking. She was moving her lips in the imitation of words, but he knew with sudden clarity that there was no sound. Her eyes were worried, the gray of the irises shining like snow. There was a strain on her face, and she leaned closely to him to speak.

"These are grave tidings, Sister," he said. The tension seemed to linger, and he eased away from her presence. He rose. "I need to speak with Father." He bowed in farewell, and then left the room. Arwen had turned back to the fire, her lovely figure hunched as she looked into the flames.

He left the hall and wandered through the dining hall. It was still set for many guests. There would be another meal there that night, he knew. He considered taking his dinner in his rooms. The dwarves made him uncomfortable. The hobbits made him nervous. There was a Man there, though, from Gondor. Estel wanted to see him and to observe how the nobility of Gondor behaved. He dismissed the idea of dining alone, then headed for the outside. There were Elves standing against his father's council room. They nodded politely to Estel, and he walked by them. The situation was indeed grave if it merited guards. There was a shadow on the valley. The sky was overcast.

He wandered through the valley throughout the day, admiring the beauty that surrounded him. Arwen's words had troubled his heart. He wished to speak with his father about his concerns, but the Council of Elrond would mostly likely continue far into the evening. He had known for many years that the time of the Elves in Middle-earth was waning. He had always been secure in his knowledge, though, that he would die before his family left. Now, the distant future in which the Ring was found and Sauron was in pursuit of it was a startling reality. His family would sell West, to their true home, and he would be abandoned in Middle-earth. Ideally, his son would be king of Gondor and Arnor, and he would not be completely alone. His son would provide a home for him; he would always have a place to go. He wouldn't complain, though. He would accept this new phase of his life with all the dignity appointed to him as the king's father. He had had more than eighty idyllic years with his Elven family, living in peace in Rivendell.

He wondered what would become of this place when all the Elves deserted it. Would Men claim it as their own? Or would it simply wither away and pass out of knowledge? He knew that it was foolish to hope that his home would remain untouched by the ravages of time, but the thought remained deep in his heart. It would burden him terribly to see the structure crumble, and he was thankful that he would not last long enough for it to finally fade. When he left with his son, he would never return to Rivendell again.

The sun was set by the time he wandered back into the valley. He felt safe there, even in the blinding dark. Evil did not come into his home. He blinked at that thought. Was not the One Ring evil? The thought troubled him, and he tried to think of lighter thoughts. He had missed supper, he learned when he drifted into the kitchen. A plate had been set aside for him. He washed and carried it to his room, then sat on the bed and ate. The food tasted bland for some reason. He ate dutifully, and drank long from his flagon. He had picked up a fondness for red wine after the sojourn to Rohan. He liked the taste of it, the scent, and the headiness that engulfed him with every gulp.

He left his plate and flagon on the trunk at the foot of his bed. He left the room, and wearily returned an hour later, freshly bathed. He slept in a long white gown, hair brushed neatly and shoes waiting by his bedside. He slept with only the thinnest of blankets tossed over his prostrate form. The moonlight was shining gaily through his window and cast his room in a lavender haze.

Next morning, he rose from the bed and dressed. He was early for breakfast, and waited by the small table for his family to begin trickling into the room. His brothers had returned, and they seemed to harbor some grim air about them. They spoke not of it, merely asked him of his health. Elrond entered next, and after him was Arwen. Glorfindel had other business -- sometimes he breakfasted with them, sometimes he did not. Estel's son did not share family meals. They ate solemnly, their individual thoughts darkened with the current situation. "Have you heard of what transpired yesterday?" his father asked him.

Estel shook his head. "Nay, Father. I wandered the day under the sun, and hours into the night under the stars. I feel, though, that the news is worse than I have feared." He smiled grimly.

"Indeed, my son. Come, we will discuss this further." They departed from the table and headed straight to Elrond's private chambers. There, they sat at a small table and Elrond poured them miruvor. "The Shadow is dark upon the land, Estel." He said at length. His eyes strayed to the East, but he kept his face turned to the deaf boy. He said, "You know what threat the Enemy poses. You also know what has been brought here, no doubt." His cool gray eyes flickered back to Estel for affirmation. Estel nodded. "We have decided that it is to be destroyed. Anarion will take part in this task, until he turns aside and rides to Gondor."

Estel felt his heart grow suddenly heavy. This had been his fear and his dread. He had watched his son grow and become a man with this thought always in his mind. He rides to his death. They would take the Ring to Mordor to destroy, he knew. His son would not even go that far. Instead, he would stray from the path and ride to war in Gondor. His throat was constricting at the thought. He doubted that he would ever see his child again. "I understand," he said at last. "This is the destiny that I was meant to take. Instead, I sit as a coward in this haven, waiting for the war to be decided rather than fighting in it."

Elrond looked weary. "There is naught to be done for it. Have faith in your child, Estel." He paused and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. "You should not feel unfair for this. I hesitate to tell you, but you were born for this very purpose."

Estel met his gaze solidly. "I created this child -- with no love for his mother -- so that he could ride off to danger. His sole purpose for being born was to further the line." His gray eyes were glowing with heat as he spoke. "How is this the same?!"

Elrond looked away to the West. His eyes closed and he breathed deeply. Estel sat at the table, still unhappy from the day's news. "I had thought it wise that you not know, for it would only bring you pain," he said when he turned back to Estel. "There has been much pain in your life, I know." Estel's eyes narrowed and he stared at his father's face. "In truth, my son, your mother did not wish to marry when she wed your father." The words struck him with torment. "She felt herself too young to be tied down to a husband and child. Her parents told her, though, that your father would not live out the long years of his blood."

Estel was quiet for a long time, his eyes closed and head turned down. He could not be sure how much time had passed. Eventually, he opened his eyes and looked for a long time at Elrond's kind face. "There was no love between them?" he asked at last.

Elrond's face suddenly changed expressions, and he looked as though he were contemplating a new thought. "I know not that there was no love between them. She seemed grieved when word came that he had been slain."

Estel closed his eyes again and kept them shut for a long time. When he opened them, it was as though he had awoken from a deep sleep. Elrond was gone from the room, and twilight was growing over the land. He sat under the starry sky, thinking of what he had learned. There was a great weight suddenly on his chest, and the air was stifling. He sat motionlessly for many minutes, staring up at the large moon. Then, he went straight to his bed and threw himself upon the soft mattress. He slept in his day clothing, without any blankets or supper.

The days and weeks passed quickly afterward. Riders set out from Rivendell, then returned again. His son among them, they spent little time together. All too soon, the day the Company would set out was quickly approaching. There was a heavy air in Rivendell. The lightness and good spirits that had once been so commonplace in the valley had been smothered with the gloom that permeated the area. Before they left, his son came to him and hugged him for many long minutes in the privacy of the library. He held him close and promised that he would see his father again. The next day, the Company departed. Estel watched them as they crossed the bridge, then climbed winding roads that led out of the vale. He watched them until they turned a bend and disappeared from sight.

He ate a light supper. There was no talking. Afterward, he set a chair in front of his window and gazed into the south until darkness took over the land. He drifted into an uneasy sleep. He awoke several times during the night. There was a cold chill in the air. The stars glinted in the sky above him. The moon was a mere sliver in the air, hanging low above the mountains.

He stripped and walked to his bed. Under the blankets, he lay awake. His thoughts were dark. The chill that was in the air seemed intent on keeping him awake. He could see the stars twinkling in the darkness outside of his room. There was a pillow scrunched under his neck, and it pressed uncomfortably against his bones. He turned onto his side and thought about his child. Poor Anarion, the only child of Morwen to share her likeness. She had been dead for many years, as had Thengel. He wondered what it would have been like if she had loved and married him as she had her husband. The thought left him feeling empty, and he unconsciously rolled onto his other side. He was facing the south, and he knew that his son walked in that direction. He wondered if he would ever see the man again. He knew that dark perils lay on the road from Rivendell to Gondor. There were even more on the road to Mordor. He knew that his son was not to walk that path, but there was uncertainty when he thought of it. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, praying that his child would be spared.

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Final update: Wednesday, November 17, 2004