October 6th, 2986 T. A.

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The night passed into day, and the day into the next night. You sit in the chair in the same position, holding his hand. The fire burns high, and his eyes, sunken deep in their sockets, are closed. Nothing changed. Only the lines in your face are deeper, and the circles beneath your eyes darker. The storm passed already. It is quiet outside. It is quiet in the whole Rivendell…

And then, the change came suddenly. And not for the better.

“Estel!” you call him, with a trace of panic in your voice. Estel… but I have no time to wonder about the name. Elrond! What is happening? You must save him!

You call for clean sheets and cold water.

The fever.

The infection… the fever is rising. He burns… Ai, didn’t he suffer enough? You work quickly, concentrated. The sheets soaked in cold water to beat down the fever. Oh did everything else fail? You know what you are doing. But I fear. He is so weak… Can he endure any further cold? Your hands waver. What is going through your mind? You know what you must do. You hesitate, and I know why. So long has he been outside in the cold, alone. How can you submit your child to it again? What if he will think that the warmth was just an illusion? That he is still there, still alone… What if he ceases to fight?

The fever rises too quickly. You know no other way. You do what you must. And for the whole time, you hold him close, speak to him, and stroke his hair. You are there, as much as you can. Is it enough? I see the tears in your eyes. He is in delirium. He calls you with hoarse voice - barely audible, and yet so heartbreakingly loud to you… and to me. A sob comes through his lips when you change the wet sheets for fresh ones, icy-cold. You do what you must, Elrond, but it takes all your strength to do it.

Then finally, the fever is beaten down. Its flush disappeared from his cheeks. They are pale again, pale as the snow that will soon cover the mountain passes. You shiver. Both of you… You sit beside him at the bed, and take him into your arms. To be close, to tell him that he is not alone…

And you, Elrond, you are not alone, either. Look at me, my son. Take comfort in my light. You know that I am here. Despite the distance, and time, I am here. I will ever be. No, it is not a curse. You yourself showed me how important being here is. It is a gift. Always when you need me, I will be here. Everyone loses his path sometimes, and I have lost it too. Now I have found it again, together with my purpose. I can be the light showing the path when you lose it, like I could show you the path to your son. And by doing so, I have found the path to you…

You look to me. You know that you are not alone. As does he… He stirs! You call him again. Yes, Aragorn, open your eyes! Come back to us! You are safe here, you are home! Home…

Aragorn! Slowly, not heeding the anxiety of his father… and many times grand-grandfather, he opens them, unfocused and full of pain.

“Ada?...” he whispers hoarsely, insecurely – as if he wouldn’t dare to believe. Yes, he is there my child; your Ada is with you. He calls you, Elrond, with the name that I always longed to hear from your mouth... You smile at him, and all the weariness is gone from your eyes.

“Estel!” you breathe out. “I’m here... you are safe... I’m here.”

“Hurts… so cold…” he whispers, and the short glimpse of pain in your eyes tells more than thousands of words ever could. He does not perceive his surroundings; he does not know where he is. But he knows that you are with him...

You pull him closer into your embrace. “I know, Estel, I know. Easy, my child. You are ill, but it will pass soon. I will bring you a tea that will help you.” You lower him gently on the pillows, and move away, but oh, the look of panic in his eyes! Immediately you embrace him again.

“No, I will not leave. I will not leave you alone again…” you whisper soothingly, and rock him in your arms. “I will not leave you alone…” Oh, what did he go through… A part of his mind is still there, outside in the mountains. He fears that the illusion of warmth and safety will dissolve, and he will find himself there again, without help. Did he have such illusions in his suffering? Did he imagine being here, safe in the arms of his father, only to wake up into the cruel reality? Oh Aragorn… This is no illusion, no hallucination. You are safe…

Instead of leaving, you hold him close, and call for someone. Soon a golden-haired Elf enters the room. His face is familiar… Glorfindel! It feels as if in another life... I have a vague memory of running, my mother clutching my hand, a long shadow before me, swaying in the rhythm of my steps and the flames behind – a burning city. When I looked behind, there was a tall golden-haired figure, framed by flames... That is my last memory of him, protecting our retreat. He was there then, and he is here now – who else would protect my son better then the one who protected me for the price of his own life? For the whole night did he sit before the doors and wait, but did not dare to enter the room. He looks as worried as you, but his face brightens when he sees Aragorn awake.

“Welcome back, Elrondion…” he smiles with relief. But Aragorn doesn’t hear. He clutches your hand desperately, as if it could disappear... Your eyes meet with Glorfindel’s, and he nods sadly. He understands... Quickly you give him the instructions for the tea, and he leaves. I see him running through the hall... You stay alone with your son again. You stroke his hair gently, and whisper words of comfort.

Sooner then I would think possible, Glorfindel returns, carrying a steaming mug. “Do you need anything more?” he asks you then, and you thank him, but do not perceive the question fully, your attention is already with your son. Glorfindel watches for a moment, but then he leaves again, and returns to his place at the door, ready to help if needed, but not wanting to disturb. These moments belong to you... I am glad that he is there for you. You have friends, Elrond, good friends.

You bring the cup to your son’s lips. “Drink, Estel. It will help you.” And he obeys gladly: he is thirsty, and the warm liquid soothes the pain in his throat. But after the first sip he grimaces in disgust. Ah, a healing tea… Aragorn, do you remember the warm sheets, and hot tea that I promised you? Well, this tea is not what I had in mind, honestly.

What tea is it, Elrond? Against pain, against infection? I hope it will help… You smile encouragingly, and he drains the cup, too weak to protest, too thirsty to care about the taste. His eyes seem a bit brighter after it, finally he seems to realize that the warmth and light will not dissolve into cold darkness. With a sigh his body relaxes. Then he closes his eyes wearily, and you kiss him on the brow, and tuck the covers more closely around him. Soon his breath evens out. He sleeps.

The light of fire dances on his face, so calm and peaceful. Finally, a true peace, and true rest. You watch his face, every line, every feature. You trace it softly with your fingers, a hairbreadth above it, and peace is in your face, too.

Elrond, my son, do you marvel in him? Do you savor the feeling of his breath, his heartbeat? Do you savor the feeling that he lives? Hard years are written in his face. Fights and travels, pain and hardship. The disdain from those he protects, the lonely watches in cold nights, hunger, and grief for the fallen... You know the hardness of the ways he had to walk, and of the ones that he will have to walk yet. You cannot protect him. You must let him go, go through the fire, like a blade of hardened steel to achieve its full power – or break.

You know it… but now, just for this while, you can hold him, like you held him when he was a little boy, hold him close and marvel in his face, in his peaceful breath, his steady heartbeat. You sigh, and close your eyes. And as you fall asleep with your son in your arms, the corners of your mouth lift in a slight smile.