(Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I make no money from this writing.)
Elrond
"Come, old friend."
The voice is familiar. I begin to surface.
"Come now. Your son needs you. It is time to return to us, Master Elrond."
Sight returns to my eyes. I feel the bed beneath me, the weight of the covers; I smell the food at the fireplace, touch the soft woollen blanket beneath my fingers. I come back to the world.
"There now. See. All is well."
It is Gandalf speaking. I turn my head and see my old friend, sitting close by in a large upright chair. Between his knees stands Estel, mouth open, eyes wide, listening to Gandalf's words. Gandalf has his hands on his shoulders, restraining the boy.
"May I – may I …" Estel breathes and Gandalf, knowing what is being asked, guides him forward.
"Be careful now. Do not touch him."
And I know that warning is not simply to protect my injury, which I can still feel at my side. They must have kept Estel from me to keep him from trying to heal me. His gift is a perilous one.
"I won't," Estel says quietly, then, as his promise is given, Gandalf releases him and he comes to stand by the bed. Behind him, a great hound stirs and looks at us both.
"Estel," I say, my voice a shadow. "Come, child, sit here with me and tell me all that has happened." I reach out a hand to him, a hand that does not yet seem quite attached to me. I went far away, for too long. Someone has called me back.
Estel sits on the edge of the bed most carefully. The hound gets up and comes to stand by him. Estel's hand goes to Keeper's head and rests there. The friendship between the two touches my heart, and draws me further into the world.
"Gandalf and me, we brought you back. I helped a bit, anyway. I chose the words to say to you," Estel says, his eyes never leaving me face. "You almost went away."
"You chose the right words," I say, suddenly in awe of my foster son. I gather my scattered wits. "I am glad I did not go, my boy. See, all is well," I say, echoing Gandalf's words as the boy's relief and distress spills out of him. I reach across and brush his cheek with my fingers. "Tell me, have you been well?"
"Yes, Papa. I have been washed and my clothes have been washed and I think I'm as clean as I could possibly be. And they keep feeding me good food."
He sniffs, and brushes the back of his hand across his eyes before he continues.
"I have been learning things, too. And I have my own troop to look after." He smiles happily. His face is full of conflicting emotions. I begin to feel in need of rest again, of good, quiet rest, away from the place I have been in the last days. But I manage to be interested in my son's happiness for a few moments more.
"Your own troop?"
"I don't know if that's the right word, Papa. Ten of the boys here, they're all about my age, and they have started their training as rangers. Properly – you know. And they wanted me to be their captain! I said I didn't know what to do but they said it was all right. Elladan's been helping me and we've been drawing up maps and going on scouting missions and everything."
As his excitement climbs, my mind dims once more. I need only to rest for a little while but I cannot take in all he is saying.
Gandalf's deep voice interrupts the flow. "Come now, Estel. Your father must have his rest. Later, you and I will give him some of that good broth you helped your grandmother to make. Come along – it is time to rouse your men and give them their duties for the day."
Through half-aware eyes I watch the old man take my youngest by the hand and lead him from the hut. Keeper follows, tail wagging. I fall into rest.
It is near dark when I come back to myself again. This time, I feel much stronger and the pain which has been with me for days has faded away.
"Elrond?" a soft female voice enquires. "Will you stay with us this time?"
It is Ivorwen, and her voice is softer than I have known it.
"I believe so," I say.
"Do you wish for some food?"
She helps me to sit up and draws the blankets around me. I still feel too light, too much a part of another world.
"Yes," I say. A connection with the world of Middle Earth, that is what I need to anchor me again.
Ivorwen stands and calls, "Estel!"
The boy is a minute coming.
"All is well!" he says, as if reporting to her. "I have guards placed and the scouting parties have all returned."
"You are running the village most efficiently, Estel," she says.
He looks down, unsure what to do with the compliment.
"It's only a game, grandmother," he says.
"No. It is more than that, child. You have given us new purpose. Now come, bring a bowl of broth for your father. He needs to build back his strength."
Estel, after a prompt from Ivorwen, washes his hands in a bowl placed on a table by the fireplace, takes a dish and ladles carefully into it something which smells potently of venison. He holds it in both hands as he brings it to me.
"Can you hold it, Papa?" he asks. I take it from him and test out my strength.
"I believe so. A spoon would be helpful."
"Oh!" Estel quickly fetches one and I begin to eat, under his watchful care.
The light is fading in the hut. It is quiet, and the darkness is soothing. The broth warms me, and I am satisfied to be back in this place, for my boy needs me. He sits by my side, watching me eat.
"How is your puppy?" I ask between spoonfuls.
"Shall I fetch him for you? He's growing up every day."
"Yes. I would like to see him. Have you named him yet?" He might have told me. I have forgotten much that happened in the last days.
"Hú," he says, getting up immediately. "When he is bigger, Húan." Then he is gone.
"His puppy is not the only one who is growing, Master Elrond." Gandalf appears in the doorway. He comes to sit back in the large chair where I first saw him. "The boy is a sturdy scion of the family. He suffered little from his drenching and his fear."
"Yet he has grown thinner again," I lament. "Has he been completely well?"
"He has suffered two more visions and he does not sleep well," Gandalf admits. "Keeper looks after him, and this new business he has, being the captain of his own troop, occupies his mind. It was Elladan's idea, and it has been a great success. He has a natural ability to persuade others to do what he wishes them to do. He does not force them – they do it for love of him. Yet he does not know that."
I raise my eyebrows, and set the bowl back in my lap. "How long have I been ill?" I ask. "He has accomplished so much!"
"You have been recovering from your wound for seven days, old friend. In that time, all have deepened their respect for your son – their captain-to-be."
"Ah – yes," I reply.
We sit silently for a few minutes, then Estel appears at the door, his puppy in his arms.
"Hush! He is asleep," he says, and the puppy is indeed draped across his arms in sleep.
"Bring him here," I say. Estel carefully places the puppy on the bed, then stands back. I put my hand on the warm body of the puppy and, in my own way, I ward the puppy from harm. Hú. Húan. I will remind Estel of the story of Húan when we return to Imladris.
The day ends. Estel goes about his business, checking his guards, so Elladan tells me. The twins return from their own patrols and we converse, of home, of the days to come and, as the evening wears on, of Elrohir's adventure.
"I was carried downstream a long way," Elrohir tells me. "When I reached the shore, it was almost too steep to climb. It was still day, the birds singing, the sky blue. It is a beautiful world, Father. I am glad we are still here."
I take Elrohir's hand in mine. "I am glad, too, my sons. Now, we are to heal Estel. Then we shall return home and all will be well again."
I do not miss the look between the twins.
"Gandalf says you must not take part in the healing. You are not strong enough yet."
"Then we will wait until I am strong enough," I reason. Gandalf's words are logical, so there is no cause for me to complain.
Elladan takes over from his brother. "Ivorwen says – she says it must be the day after tomorrow. Such a healing has not been needed amongst the Rangers for years. The old man who will perform the ceremony has arrived and he says it must be now, for it is a propitious time. And Estel should not wait another year."
I know they are keeping something from me but all I want to do tonight is rest. I shall find out tomorrow what they are attempting to hide from me.
Estel reappears and comes to pick up his puppy.
"Has he been good?" he asks, trying to get his hands under the pup, who wakes and laps at his face.
"He has been very good. As have you, Estel. Tomorrow, if I may, I should like to inspect your troop."
"I will line them up for you, Papa. I don't know why they made me captain. I don't know anything about hunting here and scouting and things like that."
"Then as soon as we get home, I shall teach you myself. Learn what you can now, child."
"I will be glad to be home," Estel says firmly. "I don't know why, but I think it is too dangerous for me here!"
Elrohir takes him by the shoulder. "Come now. Let's get you bedded down for the night!"
"I'm not a horse!" says Estel as Elrohir steers him from the hut. "Goodnight, Papa!"
"Goodnight."
"I know the way!" I hear him protesting.
"I'm not having you being stolen again," Elrohir says.
"They didn't fight fair. Next time, I'll fight back harder."
The conversation fades. I sink back onto the soft pillows and try to compare Estel with his father. There is simply no comparison. I had not a moment's worry about Arathorn, who was never chased, or taken away, or took to running away. I say as much to Elladan, who smiles.
"Father – you should drink this," Elladan says, holding a cup in his hand.
I take the tea and drink, savouring the complex tastes and approving the mixture. "The touch of mint is appreciated," I say.
"Your favourite, Father," Elladan says. "Rest well. Those are Gandalf's instructions. He is talking to the old man about Estel's treatment. Father," Elladan says, and looks for a moment like the child he was so long ago.
"Yes," I say, handing him my cup.
"Estel's concern for his enemy was quite remarkable. His father, in that situation, would have relished the chance to defeat his foes. Does this make Estel weak, compared to his father?"
After a moment's thought, I know the answer. "No, my son. It makes him strong."
Elladan nods, tidies his medicines and then leaves me alone.
The sounds of the camp are ever-present. I hear the quiet conversation, the happy laughter of children and, once again, the thrum of rain on the roof.
A moment of peace. There have not been too many such moments in the last months. I hope these calm, strong people know what they are doing. If they do not, they will answer to me.
(A/N – I would just like to thank those of you who have stuck with this story and given me the encouragement of some very kind feedback. I am very happy to read all comments, which have been very helpful in encouraging me to go on when I couldn't see a way forward. So – thank you very much!)