Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters
and/or places thereof.
Author's note: I know I don't write children's speech very well, and I apologize, but as I spend little time around children I do not know how they speak. For those of you who have read this story before: I am re- posting it, editing and making the story flow better.
*****
Imladris, known in the common tongue as Rivendell, was founded in the Second Age against the assaults of Sauron. This Elven haven was lorded over by a Half-Elf who went by the name of Elrond. This particular Elf, as our story found him, was sitting at the desk in his study, wishing that there were some way to maintain Imladris without so much confounded paperwork. There was, of course, not, and Lord Elrond was just searching for a nice distraction when his twin sons entered, and his search was over.
"It is hardly so, brother," Elladan said to Elrohir as he held open the door. Elrohir, entering, continued this argument with, "It is so, as you would see if you would only allow me to explain."
"What is all this commotion?" asked Elrond, glad for a distraction but thoroughly wishing his sons would get along, as they often came to him to settle the silliest of arguments, and as their father it was only right that he discouraged further such occurrences.
"Elrohir thinks--" Elladan began, but to be interrupted.
"And I am right, you shall see," Elrohir interrupted.
Elladan shot his brother a dirty look and continued, "Elrohir is of the impression that the Dwarves contributed significantly to the Battle of Five Armies. I have told him perhaps one thousand times that--"
"I want not argument," Elrond said, silencing both boys. "Elrohir is correct, Elladan. Now, I hope I have misinterpreted your tones, for I would not hope to hear any form of silly prejudice from my sons."
Elrohir noticed something amiss, and suddenly realized what it was. "Where is Estel, Ada?" he inquired, for their mortal brother was only four years old and rarely seen on his own. While Imladris was a safe place and Estel could be trusted to stay within a given boundary, the child enjoyed the companionship of his Elven family. Usually at this time of day he would be sitting or poking about somewhere in the study, firing off questions at an unspeakable rate and only just listening to the answers before starting up again. Now the study was uncharacteristically quiet, and the boy was not there at all.
"Oh." Elrond winced. "He has gone to play outside." The twins both looked to him for an explanation. Estel loved to be outside, but only if he was with someone to ask questions of and point things out to ("Look at the pretty butterfly, Elladan!"). "I was unnecessarily harsh with him earlier and he has gone out. Quietly."
The twins did not speak for a moment, then Elladan nodded and said, "We all lose our patience with him some times, Ada, you should not be so hard on yourself about it. Estel will have forgotten it by tomorrow," as he knew his brother would. Elrond knew his son's words for truth, but he could hardly help regret his actions. Estel was only a child!
The boy in question, at this moment, was kneeling on the ground, fists grinding into the ground and elbows locked as he leaned his weight on his skinny arms, staring intently at a small white flower. How were the petals connected to the flower? What about the leaves, how did they connect to the stem? Estel knew that bees, the small creatures that so often stung him, carried pollen--whatever that meant--from flower to flower and made more flowers. He was unsure of why this was or how, but he knew that it was true because Elrohir had told him so.
As Estel watched a bee did land on that particular flower. With awed fascination, the boy's eyes locked onto this creature, following it along the petals to the yellow-orange pollen, then out again. "Hey, wait for me!" he cried as the insect buzzed away, then got to his feet and chased after it. Nothing stood in Estel's way as he ran at top speed for his pudgy little legs, which was not too very fast but quick enough to keep pace with the bee. This bee landed on another flower not far away, and Estel knelt again to watch it.
Before he knew it, Estel was by the stream. His friends, Oswald and Lysander, two Elven brothers, were there. Oswald was six years old, which for an Elf was just a bit younger than Estel, and Lysander older than both, something like ten, in mortal years. Both brothers had straight blonde hair, Lysander's worn long and loose round his face and Oswald's held back in a short tail, and both had intense blue eyes. Estel played with them sometimes, although Lysander thought himself a bit old for children's games and looked on more often than not.
"Hello, Oswald," said Estel, approaching his friend.
"Hello, Estel!" return the red-cheeked Oswald, always excited to see someone. "Have you been to this pool lately? There are tadpoles grown in it!" The " pool" in question was only about as large as a book, perhaps smaller depending on the size of the book, but a good volume of about twelve hundred pages. Estel knelt beside his friends, never minding the way the mud complimented the grass stains that were on his knees already, and watched the young little things wriggle about in the water.
"Those sure are something, Oswald," said Estel, truly jealous of the time his friend had spent already observing the little creatures, his bee quite forgotten.
"I heard that tadpoles turn into frogs," Oswald said, having found this fascinating and thinking it a great thing to share.
"Really?" Estel asked. "These are frogs as children?" Oswald nodded. "Then are -we- going to turn into frogs when we grow up?"
"No, silly!" Oswald exclaimed. "We are going to be Elves!" He laughed, but a glance at Estel silenced his cheerfulness. "Oh, I am sorry, Estel. I was hardly thinking. . .sorry. I know you will not be an Elf."
"I will be an Elf!" replied the indignant youngster. "My Ada is an Elf, and so will I be!" he proclaimed, sitting up a little straighter and trying to ignore the way his hair got in his eyes.
"But Estel, he is not your really real Ada," Oswald said, not arguing but pointing this out as though Estel ought to have known and had simply forgotten it.
"He is," Estel replied, getting a little angry now.
"I a'm sorry. . ." was all Oswald would say. "I think I should go home now, Estel. Maybe we could meet here again some time, and look at the tadpoles." With those parting words Oswald stood and left, looking many times over his shoulder at his friend. Oswald was not unkind, but he felt as though he had hurt Estel and ought to give his friend some time to be angry, and think things through. Lysander followed his brother but Estel remained by the pool, watching the tadpoles.
Silent tears began sliding down his cheeks and plunking into the pool. "He is too my ada. . ." Estel sobbed shakily. "I will too be an Elf. . ." He was so confused, the poor boy. Was Elrond his father, or not? Would he not become an Elf? He had always thought it was just a matter of time before his ears grew pointed, and his grace grew into him. Would it really never happen? More importantly, could it really be that Elrond was not his father?
*****
To be continued
Author's note: I know I don't write children's speech very well, and I apologize, but as I spend little time around children I do not know how they speak. For those of you who have read this story before: I am re- posting it, editing and making the story flow better.
*****
Imladris, known in the common tongue as Rivendell, was founded in the Second Age against the assaults of Sauron. This Elven haven was lorded over by a Half-Elf who went by the name of Elrond. This particular Elf, as our story found him, was sitting at the desk in his study, wishing that there were some way to maintain Imladris without so much confounded paperwork. There was, of course, not, and Lord Elrond was just searching for a nice distraction when his twin sons entered, and his search was over.
"It is hardly so, brother," Elladan said to Elrohir as he held open the door. Elrohir, entering, continued this argument with, "It is so, as you would see if you would only allow me to explain."
"What is all this commotion?" asked Elrond, glad for a distraction but thoroughly wishing his sons would get along, as they often came to him to settle the silliest of arguments, and as their father it was only right that he discouraged further such occurrences.
"Elrohir thinks--" Elladan began, but to be interrupted.
"And I am right, you shall see," Elrohir interrupted.
Elladan shot his brother a dirty look and continued, "Elrohir is of the impression that the Dwarves contributed significantly to the Battle of Five Armies. I have told him perhaps one thousand times that--"
"I want not argument," Elrond said, silencing both boys. "Elrohir is correct, Elladan. Now, I hope I have misinterpreted your tones, for I would not hope to hear any form of silly prejudice from my sons."
Elrohir noticed something amiss, and suddenly realized what it was. "Where is Estel, Ada?" he inquired, for their mortal brother was only four years old and rarely seen on his own. While Imladris was a safe place and Estel could be trusted to stay within a given boundary, the child enjoyed the companionship of his Elven family. Usually at this time of day he would be sitting or poking about somewhere in the study, firing off questions at an unspeakable rate and only just listening to the answers before starting up again. Now the study was uncharacteristically quiet, and the boy was not there at all.
"Oh." Elrond winced. "He has gone to play outside." The twins both looked to him for an explanation. Estel loved to be outside, but only if he was with someone to ask questions of and point things out to ("Look at the pretty butterfly, Elladan!"). "I was unnecessarily harsh with him earlier and he has gone out. Quietly."
The twins did not speak for a moment, then Elladan nodded and said, "We all lose our patience with him some times, Ada, you should not be so hard on yourself about it. Estel will have forgotten it by tomorrow," as he knew his brother would. Elrond knew his son's words for truth, but he could hardly help regret his actions. Estel was only a child!
The boy in question, at this moment, was kneeling on the ground, fists grinding into the ground and elbows locked as he leaned his weight on his skinny arms, staring intently at a small white flower. How were the petals connected to the flower? What about the leaves, how did they connect to the stem? Estel knew that bees, the small creatures that so often stung him, carried pollen--whatever that meant--from flower to flower and made more flowers. He was unsure of why this was or how, but he knew that it was true because Elrohir had told him so.
As Estel watched a bee did land on that particular flower. With awed fascination, the boy's eyes locked onto this creature, following it along the petals to the yellow-orange pollen, then out again. "Hey, wait for me!" he cried as the insect buzzed away, then got to his feet and chased after it. Nothing stood in Estel's way as he ran at top speed for his pudgy little legs, which was not too very fast but quick enough to keep pace with the bee. This bee landed on another flower not far away, and Estel knelt again to watch it.
Before he knew it, Estel was by the stream. His friends, Oswald and Lysander, two Elven brothers, were there. Oswald was six years old, which for an Elf was just a bit younger than Estel, and Lysander older than both, something like ten, in mortal years. Both brothers had straight blonde hair, Lysander's worn long and loose round his face and Oswald's held back in a short tail, and both had intense blue eyes. Estel played with them sometimes, although Lysander thought himself a bit old for children's games and looked on more often than not.
"Hello, Oswald," said Estel, approaching his friend.
"Hello, Estel!" return the red-cheeked Oswald, always excited to see someone. "Have you been to this pool lately? There are tadpoles grown in it!" The " pool" in question was only about as large as a book, perhaps smaller depending on the size of the book, but a good volume of about twelve hundred pages. Estel knelt beside his friends, never minding the way the mud complimented the grass stains that were on his knees already, and watched the young little things wriggle about in the water.
"Those sure are something, Oswald," said Estel, truly jealous of the time his friend had spent already observing the little creatures, his bee quite forgotten.
"I heard that tadpoles turn into frogs," Oswald said, having found this fascinating and thinking it a great thing to share.
"Really?" Estel asked. "These are frogs as children?" Oswald nodded. "Then are -we- going to turn into frogs when we grow up?"
"No, silly!" Oswald exclaimed. "We are going to be Elves!" He laughed, but a glance at Estel silenced his cheerfulness. "Oh, I am sorry, Estel. I was hardly thinking. . .sorry. I know you will not be an Elf."
"I will be an Elf!" replied the indignant youngster. "My Ada is an Elf, and so will I be!" he proclaimed, sitting up a little straighter and trying to ignore the way his hair got in his eyes.
"But Estel, he is not your really real Ada," Oswald said, not arguing but pointing this out as though Estel ought to have known and had simply forgotten it.
"He is," Estel replied, getting a little angry now.
"I a'm sorry. . ." was all Oswald would say. "I think I should go home now, Estel. Maybe we could meet here again some time, and look at the tadpoles." With those parting words Oswald stood and left, looking many times over his shoulder at his friend. Oswald was not unkind, but he felt as though he had hurt Estel and ought to give his friend some time to be angry, and think things through. Lysander followed his brother but Estel remained by the pool, watching the tadpoles.
Silent tears began sliding down his cheeks and plunking into the pool. "He is too my ada. . ." Estel sobbed shakily. "I will too be an Elf. . ." He was so confused, the poor boy. Was Elrond his father, or not? Would he not become an Elf? He had always thought it was just a matter of time before his ears grew pointed, and his grace grew into him. Would it really never happen? More importantly, could it really be that Elrond was not his father?
*****
To be continued