Apostate’s Ruse

Chapter Four: Elrondion No More

He awoke to the sound of rain pattering against his window. With a groan, Estel rolled over and propped his aching head up with his arm. His ribs still throbbed, but not as badly as before. As he stared into the darkness of his room, he realized that he had slept the day away. The boy slowly sat up, grimacing as he remembered yesterday’s events. Pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, he tried to sort out his thoughts.

"What was wrong with Ada?" He traced the pattern of his bedspread with one finger. "Why is he like this?" Estel thought of the recent events that transpired. None of this seemed to be right.

First, Elrond had forbidden him to touch several books. Then, he had banned him from his study. Finally, Elrond had punished him harshly for an apparently minor wrongdoing. Frustrated and despondent, he kicked a pillow on to the ground with one foot, watching it spin and hit a chair leg. “I’m missing something to this whole thing,” he muttered under his breath, “think, Estel!”

The boy stood up and began to pace. If his guesses were true, it would be only a matter of time before his father turned on him, though not purposefully. Estel pressed his hands and his forehead against the glass of his window, and exhaled slowly. He watched as the rainwater streamed down the windowpane, making the view blurry. Though he was reluctant, he knew he would have to leave if he were to seek help.

But where would he go? Estel thought of Mirkwood, where his brothers were. Maybe he could borrow a map from Erestor-the elf always kept a number of maps in his room.

“Elladan and Elrohir say giant spiders live in Mirkwood - it wouldn’t do me any good if I ran into any,” He mused aloud. “But where else could I go?” He suddenly remembered where Glorfindel and Erestor still were.

Lothlórien. It would have to be Lothlórien.

With a determined light in his eyes, he strode over to his closet and rummaged in it until he found a pack. After hastily stuffing in a few articles of clothing and personal belongings, Estel pulled on his boots and grabbed his cloak. Last of all, he slid a dagger into his boot and strapped a knife to his belt. He wished he had his own sword, but he had yet to earn such a weapon. Shouldering his pack, he quickly made a stop in Erestor’s room to retrieve a map before he cautiously made his way down the stairs. It seemed that recently, that was all he had been doing, with disastrous results each time. Thankfully, all of Rivendell was quiet and still. The boy found the kitchens easily enough, and he filched some food and a water bottle for his journey. As he bent down to adjust the straps on his pack, he heard a rustling sound. A rustling made by silk brushing against the ground…

He froze, one word forming on his lips. “Adar.”

Frantically, Estel seized his pack, stepped behind the kitchen door, and closed his eyes, desperately trying to quell the fear that threatened to overtake his senses. It was his father. Estel flattened himself against the wall, trying hard not to breathe. "Pretend it’s a game," he told himself. "You’re playing hide-and-seek with Elladan and Elrohir, Estel. It’s only a game…"

As he looked through the small opening the hinges of the door made with the wall, he could see Elrond nearing his hiding place. "He probably went into my room," Estel realized, scolding himself for being so careless. "And saw that I was gone. Valar help me…"

The elf drew closer to him. Estel forced himself to keep still, his hands pressed tightly against the wall. "Please, please go on," he pleaded silently. "Please don’t see me." He held his breath, clenching his teeth until his jaw hurt.

Elrond paused in mid-step. Estel thought his heart would stop when the Elf-lord turned towards the place where he was hiding. He could see his father’s eyes, and he fought his fear. Elrond’s eyes seemed so…cold and lifeless, which was odd for an elf. The seconds ticked agonizingly by. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of Estel’s forehead, but he barely noticed it. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Elrond, knowing that if he even blinked, the small motion might be noticed.

At last, Elrond turned away. The boy still did not move. The elf walked toward the stairs, and then suddenly turned around. “I know you are out there, Estel," he said in a low and frightening tone of voice. “And when I find you, the outcome will not be pleasant, I assure you.” He slowly ascended the stairs without another word.

For a moment, Estel simply stood there, slowly breathing until he was sure Elrond was upstairs and in his own room. At last, he slumped against the door. Standing on shaky feet, he slowly exhaled and inhaled, trying to stop his hear from beating so loudly. Estel stepped out of the kitchens, eyes nervously darting around. His near meeting with his father had left his nerves on the edge. Every small noise made him jump. Just before Estel headed for the door, he suddenly had an idea, and headed in the direction of Elrond’s study. Hurriedly lighting a candle, he rifled through the articles on the desk until he found the scroll about the Rings of power. Carefully rolling it, he pushed it into his pack until it rested at the bottom. Hopefully, the leather of his bag would be watertight,in case of heavy rain.

As he reached over to blow out a candle, a piece of paper caught his eye. It was written in an unfamiliar script that did not seem to be his father’s.

"Strange," he thought. He tried to read the letter but found it was in a language foreign to him. As he ran his fingers down the parchment, tracing the letters, he frowned. He knew that his father knew many languages and often shared his knowledge with his youngest son, but this one was unknown. What was Elrond up to? He decided to take the letter with him. Wrapping it in a handkerchief, he tucked it into a pocket in the inside of his tunic. Snuffing the candle, Estel quickly walked out into the hallway, his eyes on the stairs. When he could not detect anything, he quickly dashed to the door and ran out into the rain. In a matter of minutes, he was soaked, but he did not care. Almost blindly, he ran toward the direction of the Brunien, trying to find the bridge in the dark. He stepped forward, only to find water touching the toes of his boots. He sighed. Where was the bridge? He squinted through the rain, brushing his damp bangs away from his face. He could hear the sound of something rumbling, but as he looked up, there was no thunder, only torrential rain. He then realized he was near the waterfall, and had traveled too far. Slowly he turned away, and came face to face with Elrond.

The boy could actually feel the color drain from his face as he slowly backed away, his hands slick with rainwater and sweat. He stammered out something incoherent before Elrond snapped at him to hold his tongue before he cut it out. Estel’s eyes widened at this, but he wisely did not say anything as Elrond’s hand gripped his arm tightly.

“Just where do you think you are going?” The Elf-lord calmly asked. His anger was thinly veiled, his voice tinged with annoyance.

“Out. For a walk.” Estel was amazed that his voice was still steady.

"You should not be so afraid," he scolded himself, "for what wrong have you done? None." This thought gave him some courage, and he spoke on. “I simply wanted to take a walk, my Lord.” He had said “my Lord” again.

Elrond laughed, though his voice held no trace of humor. “Do not think to fool me, Estel.” He fingers gripped the boy’s arm a little more tightly. “Where are going?” he shouted.

Estel flinched. “It is none of your business!” he replied, his breath coming out a little shorter.

“As Lord of Rivendell, I make it my business.” The elf gestured to Estel’s pack. “Empty it.”

"NO!" Estel’s mind screamed at him. He stared at his father. “But I...” he began, his throat suddenly dry. “I...”

Elrond sharply cuffed his ear. “Now, Estel.”

Slowly, Estel shrugged it off his back and let it drop to the ground. He quickly unfastened it, and opened it to show Elrond its contents. He chewed on the inside of his lip, silently hoping that nothing would happen. But his hopes were dashed when Elrond snatched the bag from him and began looking through it. Estel closed his eyes, his heart wildly beating. He knew his punishment would be far worse than he had received the day before. He desperately hoped Elrond would not find the letter in his clothing.

Elrond pulled out the scroll. The ferocity of the rain paled in comparison to the rage that showed on his face. Estel involuntarily took a step backwards, but Elrond stopped him. “Why did you take this?” The half-elf demanded. “What did you hope to accomplish, Estel?”

Estel decided to make his real reasons known. “You’re not yourself, Ada,” he blurted out. “Ever since you came back, you have not been yourself. You refused to let me read books that I have been allowed to read prior to your departure; you refused to let me into your study, and you’ve been reading strange things.” His voice dropped down to a whisper; he was near tears. “And I’m worried about you.”

“And you have come close to upsetting all my plans.” He answered coldly.

"Plans?" Estel thought. "What plans do you have? I barely know anything these days!"

Elrond stepped forward, and suddenly grabbed Estel. Forcefully, he flung him on the muddy ground, knocking the breath out of him. The boy tried to back away, but the Elf-lord firmly held him down. “Don’t ever, ever try to run from me. Understand?”

At the boy’s terrified nod, he smiled an odd smile that made Estel’s heart flutter. “Get up.”

Slowly, he stood, breathing slowly.

“Turn around and take your tunic off.”

For a moment, Estel stopped breathing. Surely, his father wasn’t going to… Then he noticed what was in his father’s hand.

“Now.”

With trembling fingers, he slowly complied. Unclasping his cloak, he let it fall to the wet ground. Careful to wrap his tunic in order to conceal the letter, he uneasily removed his shirt and dropped both articles of clothing. Turning away from his father, he shut his eyes and tried to quell his fear.

He could not hold back his cries when the first strokes fell.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

By the time Elrond was through chastising the boy, Estel was in tears, sobbing as he lay on the ground. Though the punishment had stung, the betrayal and shock had hurt the most. Elrond was not one given easily into anger. Never before had he struck the boy, or shouted insults at him. But today - it must have been Estel’s worst day of his life - the elf had done so, crushing the heart of the young boy. Now, as Estel looked up at him through tears of pain, The elf spoke contemptuously. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked roughly.

“I have nothing to say,” came the soft, plaintive answer. “For I have done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” Elrond pulled him up, ignoring the whimper of pain. “You have disobeyed me! Don’t say that you did not, Adan.” He spat out the last word as if it were a curse. “Will you apologize for your wrongdoing?”

Estel shook his head. “It is better to do right than wrong, even if I am defying my own father,” he answered, knowing what would come next. “I won’t apologize for something I haven’t done.”

The elf slapped him in the face. “You were never my son, nor was I ever your father,” he replied harshly. “I simply took you on out of pity, Adan, nothing more.” Without warning, he dropped the boy and began walking away. “You are no longer welcome here.”

The look on Estel’s face was one of pure shock, hurt, and anguish. “Y-you don’t mean it!” he cried out. “You made a promise! You once promised that I would always be...” he found he could not finish the sentence; his throat had suddenly closed.

“Promises were made to be broken,” Elrond answered him, his voice devoid of emotion. “This is one of them.” He turned his head to glare at the boy. “Go. Before I drive you out.” With these words, he walked away, ignoring his adopted son’s pleas.

Estel stared at him, too distressed to speak. Standing on weary feet, he watched the Elf-lord walk away, leaving him alone in the storm. Mutely, he pulled on his clothing, barely noticing the sting of the whip marks on his back. Shoving his things back into his pack, he slowly began his walk. As he reached the bridge, he turned back one last time to gaze upon the place he once had called his home.

“Navaer, Imladris nîn,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from weeping as he walked onto the road with a heavy heart. A tear trickled down his cheek, but he did not even bother to wipe it away - what was the use? He would only shed more for the days to come.

Abandoned and bereft, for the first time Estel was without hope.

TBC…

Translations:

Adar - father

Adan - human

Navaer, Imladris nîn - Farewell, my Rivendell