Title: A Lone Child

Author: Etharei

Rating: G

Summary: Gilraen has gone off to visit her relatives, leaving a young Estel alone in Rivendell. A day of bonding for Elrond and his young charge.

Author's Notes:

After considerable time under author's block, the writing bug bit me again on the plane, and this is the result. I've left it open-ended so I can continue it in the next few weeks give me the time to do so, but I won't make any promises because I'm extremely unreliable with writing. Anyway, to those I've let down with my lack of updates in my other fics, I'm so incredibly sorry, and a hearty thanks to those who e-mailed (even after all this time) to see what had happened to me. My works and I don't deserve such interest.

I should also add that part of the reason I wrote this was because I wanted to explore the relationship between Elrond and a young Estel in a situation where they weren't particularly close (yet). Should I manage to continue the story, I hope to go into how that relationship evolved to the point where Elrond was more or less Estel's father. I guess we'll have to see. Also, this is another clear example of my tendency to keep bringing the past into the present (methinks it's an obsesion). Anyways, enjoy!

Italics denote thought (and sometimes flashbacks)

Naneth- Sindarin word for 'mother'.

To those who are nitty-gritty about such things, as this is Rivendell all interactions would have taken place in Sindarin.

 ~*~

A Lone Child

1 - Estel

"Don't you understand, muindor? I shall be as immortal as you, perhaps even more so. Through me the line of Luthien shall never depart from this world; through my descendants, I shall live forever."

At the tender age of five, Estel was quite an intelligent little boy.

When he woke up that morning, for example, and frowned in dismay at finding himself alone, he didn't cry or cause a fuss, but merely sat and thought until he remembered that his naneth was away on a trip with 'Dan and 'Roh. A sense of loss and disorientation threatened to overwhelm him, but he resolutely pushed it back and tried to pretend that it was any other day, that his naneth was nearby and watching to see if he could take care of himself like he said he could. He was, after all, no longer a baby!

He dutifully got out of bed, changed into his day clothes, and tidied up his chamber the way naneth usually did for him. He determinedly avoided thinking of her being far away, and was perhaps a bit eager in his task for he nearly pushed over the jug of water on the table by his bed.

A growling in his stomach presented the next course of action. Unfortunately this was a bit more challenging. Usually naneth would carry- though nowadays she tended to take his hand instead, as he was getting too heavy- and together they would go to the big table to have breakfast. Walking alone was daunting enough, but he wasn't entirely sure where the room with the big table was, despite his assurances to naneth of the contrary just before she left.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Estel took a deep breath and exited the familiar comfort of his bedchamber. The hallway outside seemed much larger and more intimidating than usual. He knew that the absence of people was because they were in the private wing of the House, and his own room was only three doors down from the Master's, but his imagination conjured up unnamed beasts hiding in the darker corners, waiting to leap out and gobble him up.

His hand reached back to touch his chamber door, and he wondered if anyone would come to feed him if he didn't show up for breakfast. But he was getting quite hungry, and what if the Elves don't think to come and look for him before he starved to death? Naneth certainly wouldn't be pleased if he missed a meal, especially as he'd been the one constantly assuring her that he was big enough to look after himself. The twins, for sure, would laugh at him if they find out that he was too scared to walk around on his own.

The last thought stiffened his resolve sufficiently. Face scrunched up in dreadful concentration, he tried to remember the route to the eating-room. As he entered a more dim section of the corridor he reached out a hand into the empty air, pretending that he was holding naneth's hand, but once he got to the stairs where the morning sunlight poured in like molten gold he stopped, and felt a bit silly at being so frightened.

A large vase with purple flowers, a wall with aging tapestries... he could hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears as he traced the path that he'd walked with his naneth every morning, and marvelled at the fact that it was only today that he'd paid any conscious attention to the route.

He finally gave a big sigh of relief at the familar large wooden doors to the eating-room. Now he could not wait for naneth and the twins to come back so he could tell her how grown-up he was becoming (carefully omitting the bout of silliness in the hallway, of course).

He eagerly opened the doors, but even the growing voice of his hunger was stilled when he saw that only Master Elrond was in the room, seated at his place at the head of the big table, face hidden behind a sheet of parchment. He wasn't afraid, exactly, of the Master of the Last Homely House. Lord Elrond had always spoken kindly to him, and he had a vague memory of receiving a hug, but he'd rarely seen the stern face smile (much less laugh) and he was convinced that the piercing Elven gaze could read every thought in his mind.

Thus Estel silently padded into the room and took his customary place at the table, two chairs from the Elf-lord. Normally he'd be sandwiched between his naneth and one of the twins, and their attentions would distract him from the solemn presence at the head of the table. But today it was only the two of them, and the silence had an uncomfortable weight to the child.

Once again his stomach growled, and the sound seemed too loud in the hush that permeated the room. Estel cringed. The scroll was lowered to reveal the ageless visage of the Elf-lord, and Estel instinctively made a half-duck as those storm-grey eyes landed on him.

"Good morning, child," the Master greeted him, that deep voice resonating in the enclosed space of the eating-room. Estel felt himself relax at the familiar sound of it; the gaze and the stern expression intimidated him, but that deep voice had been with him for as long as he could remember. He couldn't recall a visual memory of the occasion, but something deep down told him that that voice had kept him safe, once, and always would.

"Good morning, Master Elrond," he replied shyly. The act of speaking lessened his nervousness, and he sat up straigher.

"Well done for waking in time for the morning meal," the Elf-lord continued, treating him with a small smile. "Elladan and Elrohir always woke too late or too early when they were at your stage in life."

Estel wasn't sure how to reply to that, but he acknowledged the compliment with a nod and a smile of his own. A servant came then and placed his food in front of him, as well as placing two soft cushions underneath him to raise him up to the proper height for the table, and he was forthwith distracted by his favourite food (hot porridge, lightly spiced and sweetened with clover honey).

When he was half-way down the bowl, Elrond rose and said, "I must take my leave now. With your naneth absent you may do whatever you wish, so long as you stay within the grounds of the House and do not trouble anyone." At Estel's nod, the Master left.

Once he'd finished his porridge, Estel pondered his options. He was usually happy to do whatever his naneth wanted to do- except anything involving a needle and thread- and this was the first time that he had complete freedom. Naturally, he couldn't think of what to do with it.

first he went to the Master's private garden, where his naneth had been given a little plot of earth, and they'd spent a beautiful spring week planting it together. He dutifully watered the young plants, pleased that they seemed to have grown almost the length of his young hand since the previous week (Elrohir had put a wooden post at the edge of the plot so Estel could monitor their growth). Then he looked at Elrond's flowers and herb garden and decided to water them too.

He noticed that the twins' joint plots were smaller than his naneth's, with most of it covered by thick rose bushes. Between that and Elrond's was a goodly-sized plot of rose bushes, but these were white, whereas the twins' were red. Estel felt that the roses had been planted thus for a reason, though he couldn't fathom what that reason could be. But as he had nothing else to do he took up the watering can once again and watered the roses and the large pine tree at the centre of the garden.

Getting tired of being under the increasingly hot sun, the little boy finally returned indoors. He visited the library and was chased out by a number of harried Elves; he took an apple from the fruit bowl in the Master's private living room to the stables and fed the yet unnamed and unbroken colt of Elrohir's mare; he skipped up and down the empty Hall of Feasts, making his steps echo and pretending he was a grand Elf at a feast.

Come noon, frustration and sheer boredom compelled him to make those reluctant steps to the north wing of the House. For several minutes, he simply stared at the door of carven wood, with the curious sea shell the size of Estel's hand mounted at its centre, wondering if the door had grown bigger and darker since he last walked past. Footsteps from the other side of the door confirmed that the room's usual occupant was inside. Estel felt the urge to just run away, but he was convinced that the only options before him were either death by Elven-glare or death by sheer boredom, and he wanted to do the twins proud by choosing what he thought of as the more dignified exit.

Hand trembling, he opened the door and slipped inside, making as little noise as possible. The Elf-lord, barely visible to Estel behind his magnificent polished writing desk, did not even glance up. Estel silently approached the desk, and found that he needed to be on the tips of his toes to even be able to see over the desk.

Lord Elrond still hadn't noticed him, and Estel didn't know how to alert the Master to his presence without risking the Elf-lord's anger. For a long time he simply stood there, toes aching, watching the feathered quill dance across the parchment. So entranced was he by the movements of the tip of the quill, and the patterns of ink it made on the sheet below it (which still held no meaning for the young boy) that he didn't notice when the Master finally became aware of him.

~*~

2 - Elrond

"Yet you will sunder us. Alas that our wills are so evenly matched!"

Yes... fifty bales of parchment seemed reasonable, in exchange for extending the perimeter of the southern outer patrol by half a league... but does the settlement include this ridge, because it'll be quite difficult to cover this area...

Elrond didn't know at first what halted the train of his thoughts and the scratchings of his quill. He hadn't heard the door open, and a glance showed no one else in room. Then he saw the fountain of light brown hairm at the edge of his desk, and beneath it, partially covered, very familiar deep blue eyes.

The eyes had been focused on the quill in his hand, and now that it had ceased moving the young gaze travelled upwards until it made contact with Elrond's. Upon which its owner emitted a soft gasp, and the little head disappeared behind the wood.

Elrond sighed. He knew that the child was intimidated of him, perhaps fearing him. He wasn't sure what to do about it; it had been over two thousand years since Arwen and the twins had been youngsters, and they hadn't been this shy of him (though Elrond had occasionally wished they were). As for the handful of Isildur's descendants that he had taken under his wing over the years, none had been deprived of their father and subsequently thrust into his care at such a young age. The Dunedain preferred to take care of their own. But Arathorn had been especially close to the twins, and the gift of foresight was stronger in him than many of his predecessors. Once he'd learned that Gilraen was pregnant, he had immediately sought out the Lord of Imladris to discuss his son's future. Elrond remembered the meeting, and even now found it hard to believe that the calm, charismatic young Captain of the Dunedain had known that he was going to die. Elrond hadn't met Estel until the twins brought him and his mother home three years ago, yet the moment he laid eyes on the boy he knew that Arathorn had been correct.

The head re-emerged, like a turtle from its shell, eyes wide with apprehension but at least meeting his gaze. Elrond could see the strength within them, still untested. Their deep blue colour- bordering on violet- would change, he knew, into a sharper grey-blue when the child got older. The twin's eyes had been like that, as well as his own.

Elrond came to the realisation that, as intimidated as the child was of him, he was similarly uncomfortable around the son of Arathorn. As long as Gilraen was present, a reminder of Estel's identity, the discomfort was barely noticeable. But in the rare times when it was only the two of them- today, for instance- he found it difficult to look upon that young, intelligent face for long. Even after three years it was a stranger to him, for he only saw the boy during mealtimes in most days, yet as the face was moulded by time and inherited blood, it was taking a peculiar resemblance to another face, becoming too familiar.

A tiny hand tentatively touching his brought Elrond back from his thoughts, and he realised that whilst he had been lost in his thoughts the child had walked around his desk and was now gazing at him inquisitively.

"Apologies, Estel, my mind was elsewhere," he quickly said. The boy nodded, then looked uncertain. "How may I help you, little one?"

Estel hesitated, eyes going to examine his feet. Then he contorted his facial expression to convey what Elrond deciphered as extreme frustration. At first the Half-Elf was puzzled. Perhaps the child missed his mother? Of course he does, but that is not what he is trying to say. Without warning, a memory surfaced from a particular pool that he had locked away a long time ago. He quickly banished it, but not before he understood its relevance to his current situation. He inwardly groaned.

"Are you bored, Estel?" he asked frankly, and sighed at the boy's affirmative nod. "Did your naneth not leave you with some project, some task to complete before her return?" The child shook his head.

Elrond frowned. He had initially been puzzled when Gilraen had politely declined his offer of hiring a temporary nurse or attendant for Estel during her absence, and had thus assumed that she'd at least leave the child with something to do. Then again, Estel was her first child, and Elrond still wondered if the twins' mischevious streak had been awakened by his lack of planning one summer when Celebrian left for a visit to Lothlorien.

"The twins are with your naneth. Glorfindel is out on the northern patrol, and Erestor has chosen today of all days to rearrange the library," Elrond said. He didn't know who else of his household could take care of the child. Not for lack of trust- though not every Elf in the House knew of Estel's heritage (and certainly none outside it, for the fewer that knew the truth the less likely the news will get to the Enemy) but more of his people's lack of experience with human children that made Elrond reluctant to entrust Estel to anyone outside the family. Save Glorfindel and Erestor, of course.

"Would you like to read a book?" Elrond asked, then realised that he didn't know if the child was able to, yet. "Have you been taught your letters yet, child?"he re-phrased the question. Estel shook his head.

Elrond cast his eyes around his office, searching for ideas, when another tentative touch on his hand brought his gaze back to the boy.

"Can you teach me?" The words were quiet, uncertain, but clear. The big blue orbs gazed at him expectantly. Elrond opened his mouth to say a gently 'no', then paused. His eyes flickered back to his half-finished reply to a recent proposal from a human settlement just outside their southern border.

"To be a King is to hold the fate of thousands, yet I can assure you that being a father is thrice as perilous."

Elrond blinked. How long had it been since those words had been uttered? Yet the memory was still fresh, as raw to his heart as the day it had taken place. How could he deny a child, today of all days? He put away his quill and parchments.

"Of course, little one."

~*~

3 - Estel

"Perhaps this is why we are equals. We must continue father's work; we shall be the bridge between the First and Second Children of Eru."

Estel was very excited to finally be learning how to read, and being taught by none other than Master Elrond himself! Naneth was always saying that the Elf-lord was one of the cleverest people in the world, and as Estel thought his naneth was very clever herself, her admiration did nothing to lessen his considerable respect for the Master.

A heavy fully-bound dark green volume was to be his first book.The volume looked like it had been handled a great deal before by inexperienced hands. On the first blank page, there were two small handprints. It looked as if someone had patted a bit of ink onto their hands and made their mark on the book. Estel had enough of a mischevious streak to recognise a job in which the perpetrator was perfectly aware that what he was doing was wrong, and had thus committed the deed when no one was looking. Curious, Estel placed his hands on top of the handprints and, to his delight, saw that his hands matched the prints exactly.

He also became aware of the Master, who was seated next to him on the stone bench, going very still, eyes fixed on the page. The Elf-lord wore an expression that was similar to his naneth's when she was thinking about Estel's adar.

In those situations his naneth would sometimes not respond to him calling her, but Estel found that if he gently touched her hand she would come back to herself. It seemed that Lord Elrond was like that, too; Estel moved one hand from the page and onto the Master's.

Those steel-gray blinked and turned to him, as if seeing him there for the first time. Estel saw a flash of shock, then a deep sadness that the half-heartbeat in which it clouded the Elf-lord's eyes made Estel's heart squeeze in sympathy. A silent moment passed, and though the Master didn't move Estel could feel him becoming distant. Then Lord Elrond cleared his throat, and the lesson began.

~*~

4 - Elrond

"We are not equals, muindor; you are ever wiser and stronger than I. If I could but see beyond my grief at our separation! But all that matters to me is that you will leave me, and I shall be truly alone, when I have never been alone in my life."

When the child began to rub his eyes tiredly, Elrond glanced outside and saw that they'd been working for over four hours. This discovery prompted him to look at the little boy beside him with wonder and a touch of respect. Not even Elrohir had had such patience when he learned his letters, and the younger son of Elrond was rumoured to be the only to have finished his father's collection besides Elrond himself. The Lord of Imladris smiled; he could still remember the surprise on Celebrian's face when he had first told her about his own youth. He may be a renowned loremaster and head of the White Council in this day and Age, but he had been the less studious twin by far.

The memory of his wife had probably been brought on by the miasma of roses. As the library was out of bounds and his office would keep reminding him of his work, he'd decided that the lesson take place on an outdoor stone bench and table near the centre of his private garden, ideally shaded by a pine tree. At one point he'd left the boy on a writing exercise and located the watering can, only to discover that the flowers had already been watered. Estel had then admitted- with some trepidation- to doing the job that morning.

Elrond had smiled and thanked the boy, returning to the bench. But the memories, as if being locked away for so long had built up a sort of pressure, spilled through his mind in furious procession, and though he continued the boy's instruction, during the silences the past rose up and punished him for neglecting it for so long.

Celebrian had loved roses. She had covered the garden with them, and he remembered the countless afternoons he blissfully spent just watching her tend to them. She'd infected the children with her love for green, growing things. After her departure, the twins found tending the garden too painful a reminder of her that they had lost. For a long while Elrond, too, couldn't walk the garden without being reminded of the pain in her eyes from wounds that he had no power to heal. Eventually he had placed all the red rose bushes in the twins' plots, so that they wouldn't be barren, and in their own time the twins came and began seeing to the roses themselves. The overall effect, of the garden being mostly white but for the red blossoms near its heart, seemed fitting.

Bathed in the breath of roses, Elrond realised that he had spent more time that day reliving the past than he had in a long time. Arwen's prolonged absence and the twin's constant forays with the Dunedain had allowed his work as the Lord of Imladris to occupy more and more of his time. When was the last time Elrond had simply walked through Rivendell, reacquainting himself with the people and the daily life of his little settlement? It would have been just like him to use this day of all days to remind me of obligations and priorities.

The old volume that now lay open in front of Estel at the page displaying the Tengwar alphabet, propped up by a stone, was yet another painful reminder on top of all the others. He had chosen it because it was the twins' first book as well, and he hadn't remembered the handprints on the first page until it was too late.

When Estel completed the last letter, Elrond took the piece of charcoal away. "That is quite enough for today, little one." Half-Elf and boy examined Estel's handiwork; the word 'Estel' had been copied repeatedly down a large sheet of low-grade paper in the flowing script of the Tengwar.

"This is very good work," Elrond complimented the child. Indeed it was; the charcoal was smudged in many areas, and the irregularity in the sizes of the letters made it clear that the hand holding the charcoal was unused to its task, but the script was clear and readable. And the boy could already read- albeit slowly- a whole paragraph of basic text, though he still needed to refer to the book. Elrond felt he was justified in feeling proud of his new student.

"Thank you," Estel said shyly, his face glowing.

A persistent voice at the back of his mind reminded Elrond that he had used up the dat to teach the boy how to read and write, and that tomorrow his workload would undoubtedly be twice as heavy, but at the moment, seeing the pure joy radiating from the child made him feel that it was worthwhile.

Just then the chimes from the kitchens announced that dinner was to be served within the hour. Though as Master of the House he wasn't constrained to the timetable, Elrond respected his staff and always ate the same time as everybody else so that they would not have to prepare his meal separately. At times his duties would prevent him from doing so, of course, but he often tried his best.

As if on cue, a loud growl emanated from Estel's stomach, much to boy's obvious consternation.

Elrond frowned. "When was the last time you ate, child?"

"When I broke fast with you, Master," Estel replied, wiping the charcoal on his hands off on his trousers. Elrond instinctively stopped him, remembering how displeased the washers were (not to mention his wife) when he had let the twins' get their clothes dirty in their play.

"So you haven't eaten since this morning?" he asked incredulously. Estel nodded, looking worried at Elrond's tone. Somewhat alarmed (and perplexed as to why the child hadn't mentioned that he was hungry, considering the voracious appetite of children), Elrond quickly packed away the writing equipment and the book. He dropped them off at his office, then led the child towards the private dining hall, where he discreetly instructed the servants to bring in slightly more food for Estel than usual.

The boy didn't seemt to notice the extra servings, and certainly didn't seem to mind. Elrond was bit concerned at the speed and quantity in which the dinner was consumed, but did not comment. He silently admonished himself for letting the child go hungry. He was quite out of touch with parentage, but mere courtesy alone should have prompted him to inquire if the boy had had lunch.

Despite the urgings of the part of his mind that ruled Rivendell for him to return to his office immediately and burn the midnight oil to complete the day's work, Elrond for the most part was in a peculiar mood. He knew that even if he returned to his office and buried himself with tactical maps and trade figures, the ghosts of the past would still do their merry dance around him. The nights were always worse. He had suffered reawakened grief in solitude far too many times, and tonight he wondered if the presence of the child would ease the pain a little, remind him of old promises and the hope in the future.

Elrond made sure to eat slowly so as to finish the same time as Estel. When the boy finally pushed back his plate and glanced at him uncertainly, the Half-Elf beckoned for the child to follow him.

As they stepped out of the dining-room, Elrond felt a tiny hand slip into his own. Taken aback, the Elf-lord looked down and encountered wide blue eyes, still with hesitation around the edges, but placing a great deal of trust in him. Elrond couldn't help but smile, and was rewarded with a look of pure happiness that only a child could achieve. He close his hand around Estel's in a gentle grip, and headed for the Hall of Fire.

~*~

5 - Estel

"Our choices for the future do not change our past. We are twins; we will always be twins. We can never be alone. And I will never leave you, Elrond. You cannot understand now, but in time you will see that truth."

Estel didn't know what had compelled him to take the Master's hand, but he was glad that the gesture was welcomed. He supposed it was because his naneth was always sad, and he had become very good at telling when she was sad so he could make her feel better. Master Elrond certainly seemed very sad since their afternoon in the garden. At first he was worried that it was because of him, but now he was quite sure it wasn't. He wondered how grown-ups can become so sad that by looking into their eyes you can feel a bit of it too, like the sun would never shine again. He didn't really want to find out, come to think of it. But looking up at Lord Elrond now, Estel felt a sudden urge to try to make the Master happy, to see him laugh. He felt silly for the thought, because the Master was a relative stranger and he had trouble enough keeping his naneth happy.

He recognised the heavy wooden doors immediately, as his naneth like to go to the large room with the roaring fire. As usual when it was dark outside, the hall was filled with Elves and music. He followed Lord Elrond to a big, soft couch near the fireplace that was the twins' favourite seat. The Master sat, and motioned for Estel to sit next to him. A group of minstrels moved towards them and sat in a half-circle around the couch, then began singing a song that Estel didn't know.

At first he was quite content to sit on his side of the couch. But the combination of a full stomach and flowing Elven harmonies made his eyelids increasingly heavy. Instinctively he shuffled over to the Master, snuggling up to the warmth. The small part of his mind that had yet to be overwhelmed by drowsiness sensed the Master becoming tense, and the alarm began lifting the shroud of sleep. But then strong arms encircled him, gently lifting him and placing him on a somewhat unfamiliar lap.

The alarm went away, and his worries were eased as he rested against the Elf-lord's form. The strong arms held him close as he let sleep take him, and he smiled, knowing that he was in the safest place in the world.

~*~

6 - Elrond

Elrond placed an affectionate kiss on Estel's forehead. It may have been a trick of light, but he thought he saw a little smile form on that young face. He shook his head, checked the child's blanket, and left the room that Estel shared with Gilraen.

He was striding down the corridor to his own chambers when he changed course, heading towards the garden instead. On the way, he encountered Lindir.

"My Lord," the minstrel greeted him with a bow.

"Lindir," Elrond acknowledged him. "It was a particularly beautiful recital tonight." The story had been too familiar, too close to the memories that had been following him that day, but with Estel in his arms the grief had given way to sorrow and an old truth.

"Thank you, my Lord," Lindir replied modestly. "Is the child that was with you the one called Estel, the son of the Dunadan Gilraen?"

Elrond nodded. "He is."

Lindir smiled, and shook his head. "His mother comes to the Hall often, but tonight was the first time I paid attention to the child." He hesitated. "If you do not mind me saying so, my Lord, there were moments tonight when it was almost as if we were at the youth of this Age, and you were cradling one of your sons." Elrond shot him an inquiring glance, and he quickly added, "I meant to say that he had a peculiar resemblance to you, my Lord."

Elrond slowly nodded. "He does, I suppose. It is a curious coincidence."

Sensing that the Half-Elf was troubled, Lindir bowed again and took his leave. Elrond resumed his walk to the garden, but his mind was already somewhere else, in a different place and time.

The scent of roses was less overwhelming in the cool night air. Elrond glanced at the stone table and bench where they had worked, remembered the old book with the handprints. As if summoned, the day they had been made flashed through his mind. It had, after all, been his idea.

Only the left handprint was his.

As always on nights when he was revisited by the past and took to the garden, a certain star blazed brightly in the night sky, as if it was trying to outshine all other stars. Out of the habit of several millenia, Elrond made a little nod of acknowledgement to his sire. For a long while he simply stared at the light of the distant Silmaril, his mind full of the sound of breaking waves and the cry of gulls.

Eventually he said, to the past, "After all this time, I still do not know how you could have made your choice, and be strong enough to hold me to mine. But I know now that you were right. You were always right."

And then he was drowned by the salty sea, lost in the pain of a wound so old that it could never truly heal, because in a way there was never really a wound to begin with. He let himself go, and he wept.

~ The End ~