Disclaimer: Do not try this medical procedure at home without a qualified physician, and besides, you probably won't need to, because antibiotics are a marvellous, marvellous discovery.

Warning: Pouring angst here. And it’s short, just a scene really...

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Drowning

by Lily Frost

        Lines of bottles containing brightly coloured liquids were stacked across the shelf and scattered pell-mell across the countertop, along with jars of dried herbs and open books. A clean basin was left empty, but at hand, and another not-so-clean one next to the bed. The bed’s occupant was small, his feet nowhere near reaching the end of it, and he was wrapped in several light sheets. His small chest rose and fell slowly, each breath coming in a painful heave. Three elves were in the room, each taking turns on his watch. Elrohir rested on a chair in the corner, and Elladan had just sat next to the bed, brushing Estel’s sweaty, dark hair from his eyes and feeling the fever that burned beneath his skin.

        Estel jolted suddenly, a deep, rattling cough issuing forth and causing his body to shake violently.

        Elladan had him sit up and rubbed his back, whispering words of comfort into the sleeping child’s ears. His gaze shifted up to Elrond, who stood above him, grey eyes filled with concern, “He burns still...”

        “And it is as if he is drowning on the fluid in his lungs...”

        “Go to sleep ada,” Elladan pleaded, “there is nothing more you can do tonight. If you recover enough energy to heal him a little more, then do so. But do not exhaust yourself beyond being able to help him.”

        Elrond nodded, knowing that his son’s words held an amount of wisdom, “You will wake me if he worsens?”

        “Of course.”

        At last the half-elven lord of Imladris left the chamber he had spent the last several days in, staggering down the corridor to his own and barely removing his robes before allowing himself to fall onto his bed, exhausted.

        “Estel...” he muttered, closing his eyes, “The hope of man. Aragorn...”

        Images flew through his head, Gilraen arriving with his sons, a frightened girl bearing an energetic toddler. Gilraen was leaving then, for Estel’s safety, to find herself... Estel was growing up, learning elvish, laughing, playing, crying over a scraped knee.

        Now Elrohir was kissing the knee better, reading him stories... Elladan giving him rides on his back, teaching him how to skip rocks...

        Estel was now eight, and calling his name, “Ada! Ada!”

        That was not his voice... it was Elladan’s...

        Elrond jolted out of his dreams, coming to face a frantic Elladan.

        ‘Estel!’ was his only thought before running into the chamber where the child was, coming to halt beside the bed.

        The child’s face was sheet-pale, his lips turning blue, and he was gasping, “Ada... ca--can’t breathe...”

        “Elladan, help me!” Elrond said, lifting his youngest son into his arms. “Hold onto him... tightly now...”

        Elladan obeyed, holding the struggling eight-year-old, while Elrond ran his hands along Estel’s back, positioning them in just the right place. He hoped this would work... there was no other way... Estel was drowning.

        Hands tightened into fists, Elrond brought them down harshly, thumping Estel’s back in what he hoped was just the right position to shake the mucus loose.

        Estel was drowning in a lake, fluid filling his lungs, his brain slowly shutting down for the lack of oxygen...

        “Keep holding him Elladan.” Elrond encouraged, continuing to pound, “Cough Estel, get it up!”

        He was falling downwards, falling out of Elrond’s reach...

        At last Estel gave a deep cough, bringing up mucus into the basin hastily provided by Elrohir, who had just been awoken by the noise, and rushed to the bed with it.

        All three elves rubbed Estel’s back as he continued to cough, and Elrond knew that he was out of danger. He stepped out of the room for a moment, allowing the twins to comfort Estel while he leaned against the wall in the corridor. He had to collect himself, to be strong...

        Valar, he had nearly lost him!

        Tears came unbidden to his eyes, the first since Celebrian’s departure. They gathered quickly, and would not be forced away. All the stress from the past several days came pouring forth. Orcs, nightmares, goblins under the bed... all these he could defend Estel from. But illness was one thing he could not. Elrond was not even certain how the child had contracted pneumonia, but these sorts of things seemed to happen to mortal children once in their lives at least. It was a wonder, to him, that such a frail species survived. It was times like these when he was painfully aware of the frailty of mortals, and reminded that one day he would have to face the death of his youngest while his other three lived on.

        Silently Elrond sobbed for what seemed like forever, until at last Elrohir opened the door and looked to his father. Elrond knew that, to his son, he must have appeared pathetic. A full-grown elf-lord - a mighty warrior - sobbing on the corridor floor, half dressed. But Elrohir did not shun him for it... he hugged him instead, wrapping warm arms around his father and helping him to stand up moments later.

        “Estel is asking for you.” Elrohir said softly, guiding him into the chamber.

        Once at the bedside again, Elrond ran a hand along Estel’s face.

        “That was scary ada, I could not breathe.”

        “I know Estel. We are here with you now though...”

        Weak, hot arms wound their way around Elrond’s neck, “You were crying, ada... why?”

        “I though I was going to loose you. But you are safe now...”

        The will of men, unlike their bodies, was not easily broken. Whether that will was good or evil did not matter, it was strong either way. Elrond knew many elves that would have given up long ago in Estel’s position, but he had fought thus far.

        Elladan and Elrohir, knowing that this was a good moment to do so, offered their comfort and support to their father and adoptive brother, wrapping both their arms around them and hugging them tightly.

        “I am not going anywhere...” Estel said, “I want to stay here, with you forever and ever!”

        “And you will.” Elrond smiled, knowing full well that he was lying. But it was a white lie, given to a mortal for the sake of their happiness.

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fin