It was a cold late winter's evening in the hidden valley of Imladris, the stars shone brightly, and Eärendil made his way across the night sky. Most of the inhabitants had already retired for the evening, but there were still a select few who walked abroad in the vast halls. In the Hall of Fire, the fire in the large hearth faded to gentle glowing red embers, casting a soft light on the few remaining elves seated talking quietly to one another.

Down the corridor, inside his large comfortable study, Lord Elrond sat behind his oak desk finishing off several layers of paperwork that should have been completed several hours ago. As he finished signing off on a trade agreement with a nearby human settlement, the exhausted elf lord put down his quill exhaling softly, running his hand over his face.

He was fatigued; he would admit that. And the long night that laid ahead of him playing catch up on the documents and paperwork was not looking agreeable. Elrond looked back and reflected on his day. Much of it had been given over to tending to his adoptive human son, Estel.

Estel. The elf lord couldn't help but smile thinking about the small child asleep upstairs. He had adopted the boy after being brought to Imladris by his mother when his father Arathorn had been killed by orcs while out hunting with his own sons Elladan and Elrohir. Less than a year later his mother Gilraen died from a broken heart, leaving the small two-year-old on his own, with an elf for a father. Elrond, however, quickly grew to love the boy as one of his own, while bringing joy to everyone around him.

The young child still missed his mother terribly, but with time and love from Elrond and his twin sons, Estel slowly broke out of his shell, eventually coming to love his new family. Periodically, the nightmares which petrified him for almost a year would reappear causing the small boy to cry convulsively, begging for his mother.

During these sad moments, Elrond found himself holding his son close to him, singing a soothing lullaby that he could remember his foster-father Maglor, sing to him and his brother Elros when they would wake up frightened after the horrifying events in Sirion that left them without their parents.

Most days, life in the Last Homely House was tranquil and uneventful, but this morning, Estel had not been his usual cheerful self. After arriving down to the morning meal earlier, Elrond had noticed that something was not quite right with Estel. Upon sitting down to eat, the young child sat laying his head on his arms. "Estel, what is wrong? Are you not hungry this morning?" Elrond asked setting his morning cup of tea down.

Estel looked up and shook his head. "No, daddy, I do not feel well," he murmured.

Getting up from his chair, Elrond walked over now concerned about his son. Placing a hand on his forehead, Elrond could feel the heat radiating from his body. "You have a fever, my son. What all is not feeling well?"

The young boy, looked up at his father, tears brimming from his eyes. "My head hurts and so does my throat and tummy."

Frowning, Elrond picked Estel up and took him to his room confining him to his bed. As the morning wore on, Estel's health continued going downhill.

By midafternoon, Estel had a raging fever, chills and a deep-chested cough that caused him massive pain whenever he fell into a violent coughing fit. Elrond continually stayed beside Estel's side stroking his wet hair, trying everything he could think of to help bring comfort to his youngest son, as he twisted and turned, crying out in his feverish dreams.

Lord Elrond sat back in his chair, letting his mind drift back to earlier that evening when he took in his youngest son's features.

As Estel lay in the middle of the large bed, his forehead covered with perspiration, he cried out in pain holding his stomach. The young boy could not keep any food or liquids down, which caused the elf lord great worry for Estel who was quickly becoming dehydrated. Many time's, Elrond attempted to coax Estel to eat a few spoonful's only for it to come back up a moment or two later.

After countless hours of racing between the healing rooms and Estel's room, Elrond finally came up with a special healing tea that consisted of peppermint and honey, which soothed Estel's stomach and throat enough for him to take small sips of water.

Staying close by Estel, Elrond kept a bucket in hand just in case his son's body decided to reject the water. After long moments passed by without incident, it soon became apparent that the child would be able to withstand drinking larger amounts of liquid. Elrond slowly persuaded Estel into drinking a fever-reducing tea, laced with a sleeping draught.

Elrond sat with Estel, wrapped in a blanket on his lap, talking to him softly as the herbs began working. Slowly, Estel's eyes began to droop, his fingers loosening their hold on the rich robes of dark purple, Lord Elrond wore. Moments later, Elrond heard the soft breathing of his son. Looking down he saw Estel sleeping peacefully in his father's arms, his small body relaxed, his mind at ease.

With tenderness only a father possessed, Elrond stood, ever so careful of the precious bundle in his arms, walked over to the bed, gently laying the child down on the soft mattress. Estel sighed softly in his sleep and rolled over onto his side, his little thumb in his mouth.

Elrond smiled as he drew the thick comforter up over his sleeping son. "Sleep little Estel," he whispered, before gently kissing his forehead, his hand absently combing through the dark untamable curls on Estel's head for a moment. "So small and yet so great, the Hope of men," Elrond murmured to himself.

Straightening up, he took one last look at the sleeping child then left the room, intent on returning to his study. With Estel now sleeping, hopefully, for the rest of the night, Elrond could finish up his work and get a few hours of much-needed sleep himself before he was required to resume his duties as Lord.

With a sudden start, Elrond looked back at his desk. Brows creased, he realized with slight disappointment that he had been staring out at the garden that appeared bathed in silver moonlight. He had no idea just how much time went by, but one glance down at his desk, he knew he had not achieved much.

Shaking his head muttering to himself, he poured himself a glass of red wine, forcing himself to work through the night, clear into the early morning hours determined to finish his work before the sun rose. His body had a mind of its own, however, and eventually, sleep overtook him just as dawn peeked over the high snow laced mountains.

Sleeping deeply, Elrond failed to notice the door to his study being pushed open as a small being toddled in, dragging a blanket with him.

"Daddy?" a small, tired voice asked, gently prodding his leg.

Receiving no reply, Estel looked up at his father sleeping in his large chair. Frowning, he turned to leave when an idea came to his small mind.

Quietly, carefully as he could, he crawled onto his father's lap covering the two of them up with his little blanket thrown clumsily around Elrond's knees. Estel reached up and placed a small kiss on his father's cheek. "I love you, daddy," he whispered, as he curled down to sleep once more.

Lord Elrond stirred softly, smiling as he heard little Estel whisper to him. "I love you too, my son." His hand brushed over his son's forehead, feeling the now cold skin. Together, father and son drifted off into their separate dreams.

Hours later when neither Elrond nor Estel had turned up at the morning meal, the twins went to search for them. Eventually, they found them as they were; their brother curled up on Elrond's lap, the elf's strong arms wrapped protectively around Estel.

"Leave them," Elladan whispered to his twin a smile playing on his lips, "they need the rest." With a nod, Elrohir closed the door softly, taking care not to make a sound that would disturb the sleeping pair.