A/N: Please be as brutal as possible with this chapter. I am not sure what to think of it, but I hope that it is at least up to my normal standards. Constructive criticism is desperately desired. There will be only about one more chapter following this. Hope I haven't disappointed anyone!

Unfortunately for him, at that moment a much less appreciated person was bearing down on him.

"Where is he?" Gilraen demanded. Instead of falling to pieces, as they had all expected, she was showing more emotion than she had in more than two years. She'd taken up the position of authority Gilraen had been born to fill, directing his Elves in their search.

Elrond avoided her eyes. He knew that there would be condemning disappointment written in the emerald depths. "We haven't found him yet."

"You promised to find my child." Her voice was loud and accusing. An unwilling smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; this was the stubborn-to-her-soul woman that he remembered. If only Arathorn had lived. Things would have been so different.

"And find him I shall, madam. However, my power does not extend outside the borders of Imladris. The task is that much harder because of this." He told her, deliberately adding an edge of scorn to his tone. Elrond was delighted when she straightened her shoulders, tossing her braided hair back over her shoulder haughtily. Hundreds of years of practice enabled him to keep cool control of his features.

"I thought that Elves were suppose to be - connected to the forests, or some rubbish. Can't you go out and find a trail or something?" she snapped peevishly. Her cheeks were flushed with color, and Elrond wondered if she realized that unconsciously, she was enjoying crossing words with him.

"We are not hounds, to pick up a scent," he returned coolly, laughing inside. "The rain washed away any tracks that Estel may have left behind. Finding him will take time."

"Time!" Gilraen muttered incredulously, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Throwing up her hands, she gave up on him. "He asks for time!" She walked away muttering.

When she was gone, Elrond made determinedly for the door, intent on going out once more to search for the missing Estel. However, the swift motion brought exhaustion born of three days without sleep crashing down on him. So much was involved in the running of his home that the Elf oftentimes simply forgot to sleep, relying on his natural Elvish resilience to keep him alert. Coupled with his distress over the disappearance of Estel, Elrond was so weary that he knew there was no way he could go traipsing around the mountains like this.

Promising himself that it would only be for a few minutes, Peredhil took a seat on the window seat, staring out at the banks of the Bruinen before letting his mind slip gratefully into the strange realm of dreams that only Elves graced.

"Elrond Peredhil, this is a most embarrassing activity. Sleeping on the job is for mortals." Mithrandir's voice was as crisp as an Ivanneth morning. Startled from his rest, Elrond's eyes widened and tried to focus. After a moment, he recognized the grey mass as the wizard, who was watching him with amusement from the doorway.

"I need your help-" the Elf started, skipping the pleasantries and going straight to him main concern, which was Estel. He did not realize that he'd been asleep for more than twelve hours, and that the sun was on the opposite horizon.

"I found the child hours ago. He is sleeping comfortably, with a few bruises and a fever. It would be wise for you to see to him, before we talk." The look in Gandalf's eye promised that he would be doing the talking. Elrond would be doing the wincing.

Not showing any emotion, despite the great relief that flooded him at his friend's words, Elrond dismissed himself. Within minutes he stood outside Estel's chambers, suddenly unwilling to enter. What if Estel did not forgive him?

Shaking his head, he pushed aside the ridiculous fear and strode in. Lying in the middle of his wide bed, looking pale and vulnerable, was Estel. A swell of tenderness rose in Elrond, closely followed by a fierce desire to protect. Because there was no one there, he allowed his composure to slip a little, and the love he felt for the slight child showed on his face. Careful not to disturb him, Elrond took a seat on the bed and, taking a deep breath to call on his healing powers, laid a hand gently on Estel's forehead.

For one impossible moment, he was swamped with the same choking terror he'd felt when he had tried to heal Celebrían. It felt as though his magic would not pass through his palm and into the boy beneath it. He gagged, fighting to control his sudden desire to retch. This could not happen to him again!

Then it was over. Vilya pushed subtly, and his power transferred into Estel.