Post by Admin on Jan 1, 2021 21:02:00 GMT
Autho: Quodamat
Ranking: 1st place
Summary: Estel is sick in bed. Gilraen is not amused. A pair of twins and a certain Balrog-slayer have some explaining to do.
Rating: G
Characters: Elladan, Elrohir, Gilraen, Elrond, Estel (off-screen), Glorfindel (off-screen)
Warnings: Mild gross-out humour inspired by cold and flu season
I own nothing in this story, and have no desire to profit from it: I offer it simply as an affectionate tribute to Prof. Tolkien’s work.
It was the tone, the twins agreed later, when the calm aftermath had set in. There was something in the tone. Something sharp. Something jarring. Something that sent terror racing down the spine as effectively as the thwack
There was something motherly in that tone that transcended age, race, and the passing of millennia.
It was that something, the sons of Elrond agreed, that had them trembling, stammering, and fumbling to explain themselves like a couple of wayward elflings caught clambering down from the one tree they were absolutely not allowed to be climbing...
“How could you be so irresponsible?” Gilraen fumed, descending on the twins like a winter storm from the mountain peaks.
“He was fine when we arrived, my lady,” Elladan ventured cautiously. “It was only after our first night in the valley that he began showing—”
“And you didn’t think to quarantine him?” the lady snapped. Elladan looked to his brother for help.
“Well, it’s just that, well…it isn’t usually an issue, you see,” Elrohir stammered.
“Oh, of course! Why bother to be concerned about something that only affects us mere mortals? It’s no bother to you in all your Elvish perfection. Of course you wouldn’t think about the one susceptible child in your midst!”
“He wasn’t in our midst at the time!” Elladan protested. “It’s not as if we escorted Estel to Habadon’s bedside!”
“Oh, indeed?” Gilraen retorted. “Then how, may I ask, did Estel come to be in his current condition?”
“It’s Estel! You know how he…”
Elladan’s words petered out as he shrank beneath the lady’s withering stare. Strange, he thought to himself, how he’d never so much as quailed at his grandmother’s famously penetrating gaze, yet before this mortal woman…
“As you are most surely aware, Lady Gilraen, Estel is a curious and adventuresome boy,” Elrohir resumed in his most diplomatic tone. “It’s only natural in a lad of his intelligence.”
Gilraen huffed and rolled her eyes, but did not interrupt. Elladan, catching on, tried again.
“A most curious child, and kind-hearted as well. So when he heard that one of our friends had taken ill, he wanted to cheer him up.”
“And you thought this was a good idea?”
Elrohir cleared his throat nervously. “Well, lady, we didn’t exactly—that is, Estel wasn’t—or, rather—”
Now it was Elrohir’s turn to wither as the lady turned on him. Silence fell. The tension mounted.
“It was all Glorfindel’s fault!”
Elrohir’s mouth fell open as Gilraen pivoted toward his brother. Elladan looked stunned by his own outburst. He gulped, but pressed bravely on.
“You know what a soft spot Glorfindel has for Estel,” Elladan urged. Gilraen nodded tersely. It had escaped precious few inhabitants of the valley that the mortal boy had the ancient Elf lord wrapped around his pudgy little finger. “So, when Estel asked to go visit the sick Ranger…well, you’ve seen Glorfindel with him.”
Gilraen snorted. “Yes, yes—like an overgrown puppy with a shiny new toy,” she said dismissively. “And what exactly possessed you to leave Estel alone with that flighty-headed rascal?”
The twins stood silent for a moment, torn between delight at the discovery of two new and eminently reusable appellations for the Balrog-slayer and dismay at Gilraen’s regrettably non-redirected wrath.
Elrohir cleared his throat in preparation for the next round of questioning when Elladan’s rather frantic gaze landed on another person of interest.
“We had to report to Father!” Elladan said, pointing eagerly down the hall at the approaching, and as yet unsuspecting, Lord of Imladris.
The glare he received from the lady was more than sufficient to inform Elladan that his efforts at distraction had been not only noted but added to the list of charges against him—nonetheless, he was relieved to see Gilraen turn her attention to his father.
Elrond responded to her attention with characteristic grace.
“Ah, Lady Gilraen, welcome home,” he said warmly. “I imagine my sons have brought you up to date regarding Estel’s condition. Please allow me to add my reassurances: he appears to be suffering from nothing more than a bad head cold—unpleasant enough, but nothing dire. Our unfortunate friend Habadon is already on the mend—he’s responding well to the draught I formulated, which seems to be doing its work to soothe the throat and reduce congestion. I just finished a fresh batch and was on my way to give a dose to Estel, if you’d care to join me.”
“Yes, I would care to join you,” Gilraen said, barely waiting for Elrond to gesture her forward. “He obviously needs me. I leave this valley for five days to tend to my sister and her new babe, and I come back and find that these two”—Elladan and Elrohir tried, and failed, to ignore the lady’s glare and their father’s knowing expression—“have managed to expose Estel to all manner of dangers, not least the esteemed lord who leads your patrols, and—”
Gilraen stopped short, paused, and spun around, the better to pierce father and sons alike with a newly reinvigorated glare.
“And,” she resumed, “here they are, talking to me. And here you are, Lord Elrond, brewing another one of your concoctions. And who, pray tell, is tending my son at this moment?”
Elrond, his face a portrait of innocence, turned to the twins. “Yes, my sons, do please remind me who I saw bustling around Estel’s sick bed when last I checked in on him?”
Elladan ran nervous fingers through his hair. “Well, actually, funnily enough, it happens to be a certain flighty-headed pu—”
“Lord Glorfindel,” Elrohir interrupted, aiming a none-too-subtle kick at his brother’s ankle, “has been most assiduous in his care for young Estel since he began exhibiting symptoms.”
“Most assiduous,” Elladan echoed, nodding gravely.
“He really has been very attentive,” Elrond added soothingly, gently guiding Gilraen around a corner as they approached the room in the healing wing where Estel had taken up residence. “As have many others. Estel truly is beloved throughout the household, my lady.”
Seeming proof of Elrond’s words appeared before their eyes in the form of a cluster of elves hovering near Estel’s doorway.
“Ah, see that,” Elrond said cheerfully. “Estel is by far the most popular patient in these halls.”
Gilraen looked at the assembled elves with suspicion. “And they’re all here to ensure he’s well cared for?”
“I can’t think why else they’d be here,” Elrond said virtuously. It did not escape the twins’ notice that his eyes were sparkling with barely-suppressed mirth. “Wouldn’t you agree, my sons?”
“Of course, of course,” Elrohir hastened to agree. “Everyone has been very…concerned about Estel’s progress.”
“Very…interested,” Elladan added.
Gilraen raised her eyebrows. “In a sick child?” she asked rather darkly. “My son is not a show for elvish amusement, you know. He should be resting!”
“Er…what we mean, my lady, is that many members of the household have devoted themselves to keeping Estel’s spirits up. Entertaining him, if you will,” Elrohir said.
At that moment they heard a loud sneeze, followed by several exclamations and assorted murmurs of wonderment. Two elves dressed for patrol emerged from the room, shaking their heads and chattering excitedly to each other. Gilraen’s eyebrows inched further up her forehead.
“And Estel is…returning the favor,” Elrohir said rather weakly.
“Excuse me, sirs,” Gilraen said, addressing the two departing warriors. “Is my son’s illness really all that amusing?”
Startled, the elves looked nervously between the angry mortal woman and their lord. Elrond simply nodded to them pleasantly.
“Oh, no, my lady, we don’t find it amusing—that is, not his illness itself…as such,” one of the elves stammered.
“Your son, though, such a charming child,” the other said, trying for a winning smile. “We just came in to see how he fares. We are unfamiliar with the ailments of Men, you see, so we just came to see…well, to see how he fares.”
“Charming child,” the first elf agreed, nodding vigorously. “Fascinating, really. I’ve never seen anything the colour of the…of whatever it is that’s coming out of his nose!”
Too late, the elven warrior saw the matching glares on the twins’ faces, and immediately began resigning himself to several years’ worth of extra night watches. His friend tugged him toward the door.
“Charming boy, truly!” the hapless elf called over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner.
“The colour coming out of his nose?” Gilraen nearly growled, rounding on the twins. “Those are two of Glorfindel’s scouts. Just wait until I get my hands on that—”
“Ahhh…I’m sure Glorfindel and the others really are concerned for Estel,” Elladan said hurriedly. “They’re just…curious.”
“Good-hearted and curious,” Elrohir elaborated. “Glorfindel’s rather like Estel that way, in fact.”
“Next you’ll tell me it’s only natural in a lad of his intelligence,” Gilraen snapped.
“Well, if you think about it, it’s not often he encounters something new,” Elladan offered.
Elrohir kicked his brother’s ankle again.
“I believe that what my sons are attempting to communicate,” Elrond began, “albeit in their own unique and startlingly obtuse way, is that for all his…irrepressibility…Lord Glorfindel takes your son’s well-being to heart.”
“And is it for the sake of my son’s well-being that he’s gathered his friends to gawk at Estel’s distress?” Gilraen interjected.
Elrond was spared the need to reply by the resonant sound of Estel blowing his nose, then erupting into delighted giggles.
“With respect, my lady, Estel seems not wholly distressed by their company,” Elrohir ventured.
As if to confirm his words, a delighted shriek issued from the sick room.
“Look, Glowfindy!” Estel crowed. “It’s green this time!”
The twins looked at their father, then at each other.
Elrohir cleared his throat. Elladan shuffled his feet. Elrond, blessed with thousands of years of practice, maintained a carefully neutral expression.
And Gilraen, because there was really nothing else to do at that point, burst out laughing.
Ranking: 1st place
Summary: Estel is sick in bed. Gilraen is not amused. A pair of twins and a certain Balrog-slayer have some explaining to do.
Rating: G
Characters: Elladan, Elrohir, Gilraen, Elrond, Estel (off-screen), Glorfindel (off-screen)
Warnings: Mild gross-out humour inspired by cold and flu season
I own nothing in this story, and have no desire to profit from it: I offer it simply as an affectionate tribute to Prof. Tolkien’s work.
It was the tone, the twins agreed later, when the calm aftermath had set in. There was something in the tone. Something sharp. Something jarring. Something that sent terror racing down the spine as effectively as the thwack
There was something motherly in that tone that transcended age, race, and the passing of millennia.
It was that something, the sons of Elrond agreed, that had them trembling, stammering, and fumbling to explain themselves like a couple of wayward elflings caught clambering down from the one tree they were absolutely not allowed to be climbing...
“How could you be so irresponsible?” Gilraen fumed, descending on the twins like a winter storm from the mountain peaks.
“He was fine when we arrived, my lady,” Elladan ventured cautiously. “It was only after our first night in the valley that he began showing—”
“And you didn’t think to quarantine him?” the lady snapped. Elladan looked to his brother for help.
“Well, it’s just that, well…it isn’t usually an issue, you see,” Elrohir stammered.
“Oh, of course! Why bother to be concerned about something that only affects us mere mortals? It’s no bother to you in all your Elvish perfection. Of course you wouldn’t think about the one susceptible child in your midst!”
“He wasn’t in our midst at the time!” Elladan protested. “It’s not as if we escorted Estel to Habadon’s bedside!”
“Oh, indeed?” Gilraen retorted. “Then how, may I ask, did Estel come to be in his current condition?”
“It’s Estel! You know how he…”
Elladan’s words petered out as he shrank beneath the lady’s withering stare. Strange, he thought to himself, how he’d never so much as quailed at his grandmother’s famously penetrating gaze, yet before this mortal woman…
“As you are most surely aware, Lady Gilraen, Estel is a curious and adventuresome boy,” Elrohir resumed in his most diplomatic tone. “It’s only natural in a lad of his intelligence.”
Gilraen huffed and rolled her eyes, but did not interrupt. Elladan, catching on, tried again.
“A most curious child, and kind-hearted as well. So when he heard that one of our friends had taken ill, he wanted to cheer him up.”
“And you thought this was a good idea?”
Elrohir cleared his throat nervously. “Well, lady, we didn’t exactly—that is, Estel wasn’t—or, rather—”
Now it was Elrohir’s turn to wither as the lady turned on him. Silence fell. The tension mounted.
“It was all Glorfindel’s fault!”
Elrohir’s mouth fell open as Gilraen pivoted toward his brother. Elladan looked stunned by his own outburst. He gulped, but pressed bravely on.
“You know what a soft spot Glorfindel has for Estel,” Elladan urged. Gilraen nodded tersely. It had escaped precious few inhabitants of the valley that the mortal boy had the ancient Elf lord wrapped around his pudgy little finger. “So, when Estel asked to go visit the sick Ranger…well, you’ve seen Glorfindel with him.”
Gilraen snorted. “Yes, yes—like an overgrown puppy with a shiny new toy,” she said dismissively. “And what exactly possessed you to leave Estel alone with that flighty-headed rascal?”
The twins stood silent for a moment, torn between delight at the discovery of two new and eminently reusable appellations for the Balrog-slayer and dismay at Gilraen’s regrettably non-redirected wrath.
Elrohir cleared his throat in preparation for the next round of questioning when Elladan’s rather frantic gaze landed on another person of interest.
“We had to report to Father!” Elladan said, pointing eagerly down the hall at the approaching, and as yet unsuspecting, Lord of Imladris.
The glare he received from the lady was more than sufficient to inform Elladan that his efforts at distraction had been not only noted but added to the list of charges against him—nonetheless, he was relieved to see Gilraen turn her attention to his father.
Elrond responded to her attention with characteristic grace.
“Ah, Lady Gilraen, welcome home,” he said warmly. “I imagine my sons have brought you up to date regarding Estel’s condition. Please allow me to add my reassurances: he appears to be suffering from nothing more than a bad head cold—unpleasant enough, but nothing dire. Our unfortunate friend Habadon is already on the mend—he’s responding well to the draught I formulated, which seems to be doing its work to soothe the throat and reduce congestion. I just finished a fresh batch and was on my way to give a dose to Estel, if you’d care to join me.”
“Yes, I would care to join you,” Gilraen said, barely waiting for Elrond to gesture her forward. “He obviously needs me. I leave this valley for five days to tend to my sister and her new babe, and I come back and find that these two”—Elladan and Elrohir tried, and failed, to ignore the lady’s glare and their father’s knowing expression—“have managed to expose Estel to all manner of dangers, not least the esteemed lord who leads your patrols, and—”
Gilraen stopped short, paused, and spun around, the better to pierce father and sons alike with a newly reinvigorated glare.
“And,” she resumed, “here they are, talking to me. And here you are, Lord Elrond, brewing another one of your concoctions. And who, pray tell, is tending my son at this moment?”
Elrond, his face a portrait of innocence, turned to the twins. “Yes, my sons, do please remind me who I saw bustling around Estel’s sick bed when last I checked in on him?”
Elladan ran nervous fingers through his hair. “Well, actually, funnily enough, it happens to be a certain flighty-headed pu—”
“Lord Glorfindel,” Elrohir interrupted, aiming a none-too-subtle kick at his brother’s ankle, “has been most assiduous in his care for young Estel since he began exhibiting symptoms.”
“Most assiduous,” Elladan echoed, nodding gravely.
“He really has been very attentive,” Elrond added soothingly, gently guiding Gilraen around a corner as they approached the room in the healing wing where Estel had taken up residence. “As have many others. Estel truly is beloved throughout the household, my lady.”
Seeming proof of Elrond’s words appeared before their eyes in the form of a cluster of elves hovering near Estel’s doorway.
“Ah, see that,” Elrond said cheerfully. “Estel is by far the most popular patient in these halls.”
Gilraen looked at the assembled elves with suspicion. “And they’re all here to ensure he’s well cared for?”
“I can’t think why else they’d be here,” Elrond said virtuously. It did not escape the twins’ notice that his eyes were sparkling with barely-suppressed mirth. “Wouldn’t you agree, my sons?”
“Of course, of course,” Elrohir hastened to agree. “Everyone has been very…concerned about Estel’s progress.”
“Very…interested,” Elladan added.
Gilraen raised her eyebrows. “In a sick child?” she asked rather darkly. “My son is not a show for elvish amusement, you know. He should be resting!”
“Er…what we mean, my lady, is that many members of the household have devoted themselves to keeping Estel’s spirits up. Entertaining him, if you will,” Elrohir said.
At that moment they heard a loud sneeze, followed by several exclamations and assorted murmurs of wonderment. Two elves dressed for patrol emerged from the room, shaking their heads and chattering excitedly to each other. Gilraen’s eyebrows inched further up her forehead.
“And Estel is…returning the favor,” Elrohir said rather weakly.
“Excuse me, sirs,” Gilraen said, addressing the two departing warriors. “Is my son’s illness really all that amusing?”
Startled, the elves looked nervously between the angry mortal woman and their lord. Elrond simply nodded to them pleasantly.
“Oh, no, my lady, we don’t find it amusing—that is, not his illness itself…as such,” one of the elves stammered.
“Your son, though, such a charming child,” the other said, trying for a winning smile. “We just came in to see how he fares. We are unfamiliar with the ailments of Men, you see, so we just came to see…well, to see how he fares.”
“Charming child,” the first elf agreed, nodding vigorously. “Fascinating, really. I’ve never seen anything the colour of the…of whatever it is that’s coming out of his nose!”
Too late, the elven warrior saw the matching glares on the twins’ faces, and immediately began resigning himself to several years’ worth of extra night watches. His friend tugged him toward the door.
“Charming boy, truly!” the hapless elf called over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner.
“The colour coming out of his nose?” Gilraen nearly growled, rounding on the twins. “Those are two of Glorfindel’s scouts. Just wait until I get my hands on that—”
“Ahhh…I’m sure Glorfindel and the others really are concerned for Estel,” Elladan said hurriedly. “They’re just…curious.”
“Good-hearted and curious,” Elrohir elaborated. “Glorfindel’s rather like Estel that way, in fact.”
“Next you’ll tell me it’s only natural in a lad of his intelligence,” Gilraen snapped.
“Well, if you think about it, it’s not often he encounters something new,” Elladan offered.
Elrohir kicked his brother’s ankle again.
“I believe that what my sons are attempting to communicate,” Elrond began, “albeit in their own unique and startlingly obtuse way, is that for all his…irrepressibility…Lord Glorfindel takes your son’s well-being to heart.”
“And is it for the sake of my son’s well-being that he’s gathered his friends to gawk at Estel’s distress?” Gilraen interjected.
Elrond was spared the need to reply by the resonant sound of Estel blowing his nose, then erupting into delighted giggles.
“With respect, my lady, Estel seems not wholly distressed by their company,” Elrohir ventured.
As if to confirm his words, a delighted shriek issued from the sick room.
“Look, Glowfindy!” Estel crowed. “It’s green this time!”
The twins looked at their father, then at each other.
Elrohir cleared his throat. Elladan shuffled his feet. Elrond, blessed with thousands of years of practice, maintained a carefully neutral expression.
And Gilraen, because there was really nothing else to do at that point, burst out laughing.