Disclaimer: Don't own them.
Title: A Much Anticipated Party
Note: A special story for a special day (though I'm just going to make the deadline). To my sister: to remember.
Summary: Estel newly arrived in Rivendell and still very unsure of everything, asks his mother, whether, because elves do not celebrate birthdays, he will be able to turn three. Gilraen seeks out Elrond and together they plan a birthday Estel will not soon forget.
"Nana?"
Gilraen sighed. In the six months since she and her young son had come to Rivendell, she didn't think she'd heard more than a dozen words in Westron from the boy. Estel had picked up the elvish language of those around him without the trouble his mother seemed to be experiencing. Gilraen only feared that this child of men would soon forget entirely the language of his own people.
"Yes, my darling?" she purposely responded in Westron.
"I turn three in three more sleeps, right?"
His answer was in halting Sindarin, a language at the best of times Gilraen only half understood; but she knew what the boy was asking.
"Yes, Estel. Three more days and you shall be another year older."
He considered this for a moment. "El'dan says elves do not have birthdays." She wondered what he meant by that, but nodded anyways; waiting for the reason to follow.
"Then I cannot turn three." He looked crestfallen at the realization.
"Oh my little one! Of course you will. A birthday still happens even if it is not celebrated. Do not worry Estel, I promise you shall turn three."
His eyes lit up and Gilraen smiled sadly. He had his father's face, and sometimes it was nearly impossible for the Dúnedain lady to look at him without feeling the loss of her husband.
"Promise?" he repeated in Westron, and Gilraen allowed herself a small moment of joy.
"Promise," she held her right hand to her breast to show her sincerity. "Now you must run along and play. I have much planning to do, and it must be a surprise!"
Nearly bouncing with excitement, the nearly three-year-old ran from the room. Sighing again, Gilraen put aside her embroidery and went in search of her host. She did indeed have a great deal of planning to do.
"Lord Elrond?" Gilraen called to the silent and seemingly empty study.
The voice that greeted her from above nearly startled her death. She would never grow used to the silence of the elves. "Yes, my lady?"
Glancing up to the second floor balcony, she found the Lord of Rivendell leaning lightly against the balcony railing with a small smile on his face. "Can I help you with something, Gilraen?"
"Yes, my lord. It is concerning Estel. Do you have a moment or two free?"
"Of course. Regarding my young ward I always have time." He began to descend the stairs, and Gilraen took a moment to marvel at the elven grace, even in one not fully elven. "Is there something wrong or –"
Gilraen cut him off. "No, no; nothing like that. It is about his birthday."
Elrond, now at the bottom of the steps, froze, and the lady realized he must have completely forgotten the date.
"Oh yes. Yes, that is quickly approaching, is it not?" He seemed to be searching for something in his mind. With a slight smile Gilraen provided the answer. "March the first, my lord. Three days from now."
"Certainly! Forgive me, it slipped my mind. Well, we must certainly do something to celebrate."
"That is exactly why I have sought you out, Elrond. Estel came to me to inquire of whether, because your people do not celebrate birthdays, he would still turn three. I assured him I would take care of everything. I have come to ask your assistance."
"And I should be happy to provide what help I may. Valar forbid the boy not turn three!" He smiled again, as much as he ever did, and Gilraen could only smile back in relief.
"Keep you eyes close, Estel," Elladan cautioned. Estel, still in awe of the elf who held him, did exactly that. He knew something special was going to happen wherever he was being carried. He'd barely seen his mother in three days, since she had promised him a special birthday. And though he had asked and asked anyone and everyone he encountered in the Valley, no one was divulging a word. The little boy was becoming quite frustrated with the waiting. But it was nearly over.
"Elladan," he let out a whine.
"Hush; we are nearly there, tithen min. Have patience." He ignored his twin brother's snicker from next to him. He well knew that telling a three-year-old, of any race, to have patience was asking the Valar for a miracle. "Just a moment longer, I promise." Elladan and his cargo stepped through the doors into the main dining hall. Many elves were gathered, dressed in bright colours, and waiting for the arrivals. They kept their silence as Elrond's eldest son set his young brother down at the head table. At a nod from his father, Elladan laid a hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "Very well, Estel, you may now open your eyes."
The boy did so eagerly, staring around him in amazement at all the elves that had come. The tables were heaped with all sorts of food, and a big cake was set right in front on him. He looked up at his mother, standing nearby, and burst into tears.
Gilraen was by her son's side instantly, taking him into her arms and trying to calm him. She wasn't certain what had caused him to be so upset, but she guessed that the large crowd of mostly strange elves was not helping the matter. "Shush, my darling boy. There is no reason to be upset. Everyone has come to celebrate your birthday. Stop those tears, Estel." He stopped instantly, blinking at her. "That's better. Now, can you say thank you everyone for coming?'
Timidly Estel looked out from his mother's arms to the assembly. Blinking away more tears he called out in a soft voice that carried in the silence: "Thank you for co-coming." Everyone clapped politely, and his mother kissed him gently on the head. She sat down with Estel on her lap, so that he was in perfect reaching distance of the delicious looking cake….
"Not yet, my son. The meal comes before dessert." Estel pouted, but relented when Elladan set a plate of his favourite foods in front of him. The busy dining room forgotten, Estel eagerly helped himself to dinner. And so he did not notice the look of joy and relief that passed between his mother and his foster-father. "Mama," he started in Westron, "this is a good birthday. Thank you."
"Oh Estel! You are more than welcome!" And she hugged him tightly to her for a moment, before he was again reaching out for more food. Laughing, Gilraen chose a sweet bun from the quickly emptying plate, and savoured the flavour. Yes, this was indeed a good birthday. The only question was; what could she possibly come up with next year to better it?
