A/N: Hello all.
Well, another year older... wish I was another year wiser! It was my 17th birthday last Thursday, and so hopefully you'll understand why I didn't post the chapter until now: I've only just managed to relocate my head after an entire week of festivities. My own fault.
Also, I've had a bit of writers block with this chapter, so hopefully it's up to the standard. Thankyou all for reviewing, your comments are so kind and often very funny. Extra thanks to Jollee, who warned me about extensive answering comments to reviews. Where would I be without you, eh?
Can I just say that JK Rowling is now my eternal enemy - and that I am giving serious consideration to not reading any of her books ever again. Right, I'm done with her, for now. On with the show!
"Now, really, Elladan: I would expect such a thing from an elfling one sixteenth of your summers past. You are a responsible Elven lord, and a respectable figurehead for our way of life here in Imladris... younger elves and even human children look up to the pair of you, and you set the example for all. You study lore and the art of fighting with great care and attention... Now for the love of all things elvish - act your age , will you! You were supposed to be looking after the child, and instead you send him off on a fool-hardy wild goose chase while you yourselves sit in the Hall of Fire, until the poor lad comes in crying, hours later, thinking he'd lost you and he was to blame! Shame on you, ion-nin!"
It was very rare Lord Elrond ever raised his voice, though he often had cause to, and all of Imladris seemed to be listening to the lecture Elrond was giving his two grown up sons. The twins stood reticent before him, dark heads equally bowed, long raven hair falling in identical curtains to entirely cover their equally identical faces.
Elrohir looked up cautiously at their fuming father, heart having sunk to it's lowest possible depth. "Is Estel alright, ada?" The true regret that inflected his gentle voice appeared to convince Elrond of their guilt, and their wish for forgiveness, and so he sighed as he sank wearily into a chair, bringing a hand to his aching forehead.
"Aye: he is now, at any rate," he said in a far quieter tone, piercing blue eyes watching his sons for their reaction. "Glorfindel is with him - it took him ages to calm the child." His stern, dark blue eyes once again sought the control of his sons' gaze when the both glanced at one another.
Elladan lifted his head to look at Elrond, "We are sorry, ada: it will never happen again... We deserve any punishment that you see fit, and we swear we will not quarrel it's terms."
This was a risky thing to have said, but the elder elf felt entirely wretched for having left Estel outside - he and Elrohir had accidentally fallen asleep in the Hall of Fire - and so was willing to do almost anything to gain the forgiveness of his father and, more importantly, little Estel himself.
Elrond nodded in recognition of the apology, strong hands moving to grip the sides of the chair. "So it is. You shall both forsake your books and comfort for three days and nights, and shall instead take part in the border control to the East of this house. If I see you within these walls before that time is complete, your sentence shall be thrice this length... Understand?"
The twins' shoulders had slumped dejectedly while their father had been speaking, and now both heads nodded grimly. While the pair were keen fighters and strong warriors, border control was the least desirable position for any elf competant at fighting: it largely involved sitting around for weeks on end, until finally some enemies came along, and during the course of that one fight, the border control were often completely wiped out.
But both elves, whilst hating border control, simultaneously thought that the crime fitted the punishment.
A quiet, resigned glance was shared between Elladan and Elrohir, before both sighed and nodded. "Understood," they said in unison. And they left the room, but not before Elrond's sharp hearing caught a whispered, "We probably deserved that".
When both twins had left the room, and their soft footfalls had died away downt he corridor, Elrond shook his dark head fondly. He loved his sons dearly, but they were wooden-headed at times. Still, he felt like he may have over-reacted... something was troubling him, and he did not know what it could be. He felt an uneasiness whisper on the winds, and he heard the trees around Imladris mumbling and muttering though he, whileskilled in many things including the enviable gift of foresight, was not able to understand. Trouble seemed to be brewing somewhere beyond his lands: not a great deal, but something he thought might affect them all and bring his land sadness.
Hesent his dark eyes skywards, frustrated by himself, as though hoping for an to be written on the ceiling. Unfortunately, all there was, was wood... not very helpful, by any means.
"There, now... that's better than shouting the place down, isn't it Estel?" The deep, strong voice of the renowned warrior held a gentle tone to it, entirely in contrast to Glorfindel's reputation and striking appearance. It was the tone he reserved for tired little eflings and upset children like Estel, or frequently injured warriors like the twins, or even their friend Legolas.
He watched as the exhausted child nodded forlornly, looking entirely upset and not at all settled, though a little too tired to do a thing about it.
Glorfindel's heart dropped at this, and he swore to himself then that he would have Elladan and Elrohir's guts for garters the next time he saw them. True, he knew the mischeivous pair well enough to know they had not been purposefully mean - indeed, they would rather die than intentionally injure their dearest Estel - but, in all honesty, the two really should have known better. They were getting older now, even in Elven years... and to not fully think about the consequences of actions very thoroughly, went entirely against Elvish nature anyway.
He busied himself with pulling up the blankets of the soft bed up around the poor boy, and lay one hand on the ten-year-old's chest while the other soothingly stroked Estel's wild curls. "Don't you worry, little one: Elrohir and Elladan shall get their return for such an underhand trick - they'll recieve punishment."
While the comment had been intended to make the little boy feel better, Glorfindel was distinctly alarmed to see greater distress well up in the large grey eyes, and a small tear begin to trace it's way down one flushed cheek.
This was entirely disturbing. It was most unlike Estel to cry - Glorfindel remembered clearly the day when the lad had been burnt badly by a small dragon he had accosted in the woods surrounding Imladris, nigh on three years ago... even then, Arathorn's son had bravely but staunchly refused to show how much pain he was in, even though the skin on his small chest and shoulder had been raging scarlet.
Unsure, the elven lord leaned forward, his morning-glory hair spilling lightly over his shoulders, and he softly wiped the teardrop away. "Come, child: what is the matter, Estel? You are no weeper - I know as much as that." But Estel simply would not look at him, keeping his watery eyes averted. "Estel?"
"They'll hate me even more , now, won't they?" Estel cried suddenly, and another tear slipped past his defences.
Glorfindel paused, trying to work out the child's logic. Suddenly, Estel's fears were as clear as a summer day. "Now, you can't mean Elladan and Elrohir, can you? Those two big, soft elves who love you... love you as much as I or Lord Elrond, love you as much as your father and mother did?"
Estel nodded mutely. Then he burst out, "I'm always tagging on behind them... they can never do anything because I'm in the way. They must hate having me for a little brother... I'm no use: I can't even play a game of hide-and-go-seek properly. I'm just a silly child."
The elf sat in silence, thinking about how he could handle this situation: what with no children of his own, it having been so long since the twins were unmanageable little eflings, and what with Arwen living in Lothlorien... he knew he could quiet easily drop the ball in this matter. Glorfindel ended up plumping for the first thought that had entered his astute mind, hoping that if it did not comfort the boy, it would at least distract him, "Well, no matter what you think, Estel, I know for a fact that they do not share your view."
He let his words seep into the stubborn young mind of the child before him, heard the subsiding sniffles and watched carefully as they large eyes widened just a little bit as they moved to meet his own eyes. "Really?" came the tentative whisper.
Praise the Valar! Glorfindel thought to himself.
"Yes indeed... when they left you to play hide and seek - something they should not have done - they came into the house full of the most fond talk about how you had entertained them with your ideas about being a prince... they praised your imagination, ambition and courage, and thought you showed to them everyday the qualities one needs to become a prince." The elven warrior was taking liberties a little, but at that moment, he would have killed to make his beloved Estel feel better, and he was just relieved to have found something so effective.
Estel looked impressed with himself, and his eyes lit up with the wonderfully bright light they were wont to do. "I just think it'd be great fun, you know? To be a real prince." The light in his grey eyes turned half-devious, and he gave Glorfindel a sneaky sidelong glance - Glorfindel of course saw this, and had to hide his knowing smile deftly behind his hand.
"Lord Glorfindel?" Estel's curiously innocent voice was high, and his words drawn out - the elf immediately felt alarm sirens burst into his head, as trouble was confirmed: the human never called him 'Lord' anything... though Estel had once called him 'Master Mean-Face' - something Glorfindel was sure he would remember until his next dying day.
The child went on, regardless of the growing anxiety crossing the warrior's handsome face, "Lord Glorfindel, you must have known some princes in your life, right?"
"Aye, that I have, young one... I even know some now, come to think of it," he answered with a smile, how wonderful it would be if Estel maintained this ideal of royalty long enough for them to reveal his true lineage to him... though Glorfindel knew this would almost certainly not be the case.
If it was possible, Estel's eyes widened even further, and he grinned, all upset now forgotten, "Could I meet them? Are they scary?"
"They definitely can be," Glorfindel laughed, his mind conjuring up the image of a young, blonde Mirkwood prince who had pinned him to the ground with two white knives to his throat on Glorfindel's first arrival in their fair lands, before realising who it was. Legolas had apologised profusely ever since then, but the memory still brought an amused lift to the older warrior's heart.
"Are they handsome? What do they do? When can I meet them?" The child all but exploded with questions. Glorfindel held up his hands half-heartedly against the tide, but laughed musically with the joy this human gave to him. Estel, however, was relentless, "Are there princes close by!"
Glorfindel paused with a slow smile, "Closer than you think, little one... and I promise you, if you go to sleep now, I shall answer all your questions in full tomorrow and arrange a meeting. Alright?"
"Excellent," Estel settled back into his blankets: he could not wait for the day he could meet a real life prince.
Unfortunately, that day would come too soon for them all.
A/N: There: you shall have to wait till the next chapter to see what's happened to our band of Mirkwood elves, I'm afraid. But don't worry, the next chapter shall be hot on the heels of this one, pending the reaction to this chapter... so review!