Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
*****
Estel did not know why he was running, nor where he was running to nor what he was running from. He knew that he was running, his little legs moving and carrying him not at all fast enough, and that knowledge was enough for him.
He also knew that he was afraid. It was night, which meant darkness, and he had had the dream again. In the dream the Creatures came, they came and they killed his father but Estel never saw them...For this he was all the more frightened.
Estel tripped and fell down. He bumped his knees against the floor and scooted away, resting at last with his back against the wall. In the new language, the one he found his lips speaking, he said with difficulty, "Go...away."
"Estel? Oh, Estel."
Estel did not know who had found him but instinctively trusted the newcomer. Elrond lifted the boy into his arms and rocked him, speaking softly to calm him. "It is all right, little one....you are safe." When Estel fell asleep he had one thumb in his mouth and his other hand firmly clutching Elrond's tunic with a grip like death.
*****One Year Later
"Elrond, there is a new message from Lothlorien you might take an interest in, your sons send word of their concern and hope you are well, and I will be riding out this spring, although I cannot say for sure when I shall return I am certain you will manage without me."
Glorfindel strode confidently across Elrond's study, his speech uninterrupted and matching his brisk rhythm. He threw open the curtains, drenching the room in natural light, and looked out on the early-winter panorama. Trees had few leaves remaining, save evergreens, and the leaves of grass moved as the winds bade them. Glorfindel smiled. "It's a beautiful day," he observed.
The lack of response worried him and he turned to look at his friend, truly look. Elrond sat at his desk with a pen in his hand and a thoughtful look on his face, but the blankness of his eyes betrayed him. Glorfindel waved a hand in front of his friend's face.
"Elrond, wake up," he said, shaking him.
Elrond's eyes snapped shut, then opened quickly. "Did I miss anything?" he asked.
Glorfindel laughed. "Other than twenty-five winks, nothing."
"Ai..." The Lord of Imladris sighed and rubbed his face to wake himself more fully. "Glorfindel, it is not healthy for him or for me. Estel has nightmares whenever he does sleep, the poor child cannot be left alone or he screams..." Glorfindel knew of there screams, and he understood that they were not the demands of a spoilt child but the wails of a terrified boy. "I tire of this, Glorfindel. I am sick of exhaustion, I miss feeling rested! I despise that I am constantly permeated with the smell of urine--yes, he is only a child, but sometimes I feel he causes enough trouble for ten children!"
All trace of merriment had gone from Glorfindel's face. He respected the seriousness of the situation. Estel, the young Heir of Isildur, was now three years old and a one-year resident of Imladris. In that one year he had attached himself firmly to Elrond, brooding whenever separated from his adopted father. Estel, a boy whose head was not quite right from birth, had grown swiftly and steadily among the Elves and was now healthy, though not without imperfections beyond those of the average child. Perhaps out of fear of the dark or of abandonment, Estel had trouble sleeping. He wailed when left alone and often awoke crying from nightmares.
Given the violent death Estel had witnessed not long ago, that of his father, who could wonder at his bad dreams? But the many sleepless nights were beginning to take their toll on Elrond. Glorfindel had noticed more than any other, being present at every one of the meetings in which Elrond fell asleep, but until not regarding the matter as insignificant.
"There must be some way to make a child sleep," Glorfindel said, and in that way their crusade began.
*****
To be continued
Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter, the next one will be longer.
*****
Estel did not know why he was running, nor where he was running to nor what he was running from. He knew that he was running, his little legs moving and carrying him not at all fast enough, and that knowledge was enough for him.
He also knew that he was afraid. It was night, which meant darkness, and he had had the dream again. In the dream the Creatures came, they came and they killed his father but Estel never saw them...For this he was all the more frightened.
Estel tripped and fell down. He bumped his knees against the floor and scooted away, resting at last with his back against the wall. In the new language, the one he found his lips speaking, he said with difficulty, "Go...away."
"Estel? Oh, Estel."
Estel did not know who had found him but instinctively trusted the newcomer. Elrond lifted the boy into his arms and rocked him, speaking softly to calm him. "It is all right, little one....you are safe." When Estel fell asleep he had one thumb in his mouth and his other hand firmly clutching Elrond's tunic with a grip like death.
*****One Year Later
"Elrond, there is a new message from Lothlorien you might take an interest in, your sons send word of their concern and hope you are well, and I will be riding out this spring, although I cannot say for sure when I shall return I am certain you will manage without me."
Glorfindel strode confidently across Elrond's study, his speech uninterrupted and matching his brisk rhythm. He threw open the curtains, drenching the room in natural light, and looked out on the early-winter panorama. Trees had few leaves remaining, save evergreens, and the leaves of grass moved as the winds bade them. Glorfindel smiled. "It's a beautiful day," he observed.
The lack of response worried him and he turned to look at his friend, truly look. Elrond sat at his desk with a pen in his hand and a thoughtful look on his face, but the blankness of his eyes betrayed him. Glorfindel waved a hand in front of his friend's face.
"Elrond, wake up," he said, shaking him.
Elrond's eyes snapped shut, then opened quickly. "Did I miss anything?" he asked.
Glorfindel laughed. "Other than twenty-five winks, nothing."
"Ai..." The Lord of Imladris sighed and rubbed his face to wake himself more fully. "Glorfindel, it is not healthy for him or for me. Estel has nightmares whenever he does sleep, the poor child cannot be left alone or he screams..." Glorfindel knew of there screams, and he understood that they were not the demands of a spoilt child but the wails of a terrified boy. "I tire of this, Glorfindel. I am sick of exhaustion, I miss feeling rested! I despise that I am constantly permeated with the smell of urine--yes, he is only a child, but sometimes I feel he causes enough trouble for ten children!"
All trace of merriment had gone from Glorfindel's face. He respected the seriousness of the situation. Estel, the young Heir of Isildur, was now three years old and a one-year resident of Imladris. In that one year he had attached himself firmly to Elrond, brooding whenever separated from his adopted father. Estel, a boy whose head was not quite right from birth, had grown swiftly and steadily among the Elves and was now healthy, though not without imperfections beyond those of the average child. Perhaps out of fear of the dark or of abandonment, Estel had trouble sleeping. He wailed when left alone and often awoke crying from nightmares.
Given the violent death Estel had witnessed not long ago, that of his father, who could wonder at his bad dreams? But the many sleepless nights were beginning to take their toll on Elrond. Glorfindel had noticed more than any other, being present at every one of the meetings in which Elrond fell asleep, but until not regarding the matter as insignificant.
"There must be some way to make a child sleep," Glorfindel said, and in that way their crusade began.
*****
To be continued
Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter, the next one will be longer.