Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2021 23:56:08 GMT
Author: Archeress of Silverbow
Summary: When young Estel finds something in a long locked chest, Elrond has to confront the memories connected to it…
Rating= K
Disclaimer: Nothing recognisable as Tolkien’s belongs to me. Therefore the once mentioned Godwine is my only possession. ', '
The eighteen year old boy jumped
and looked warily around. The lock on the chest had made a louder noise
than he’d expected when it opened. Satisfied there was no-one coming
to investigate he pushed open the lid. And gasped, the chest was filled
to the brim with objects. Or as his Adar called them ‘valuable artefacts’.
After a minute or so of rifling
the boy lent forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Leaning down
into the deep recesses of the chest he dug with both hands and then
pulled them free, triumphantly clutching the handle of a curved hunting
knife, still in its surprisingly plain sheath. Before he could
properly examine his prize a dark robed arm swooped over his shoulder
and its attached hand snatched the knife away. The boy spun round on
his knees to be faced by long, flowing robes at eye level, raising his
gaze he came face to face with his father, the Lord of Imladris
“Go to your room Estel.”
The elf lord’s voice was deadly quiet
The boy stayed still, holding
his hand out for the knife “Can I have it please”
“Go to your room” The voice
got louder
“I want the knife Adar, an
old searching law still stands here: finders keepers”
“GO TO YOUR ROOM!”
Estel found himself hauled upright
by the collar and practically thrown out into the corridor, with the
door slammed behind him for good measure
Elrond staggered backward and
collapsed in the chair. He hadn’t meant to react like that, much less
physically eject his adoptive son from the room. He looked down at the
object clutched by a set of white knuckles. Relaxing his grip he, slowly,
reverently, drew the knife from its sheath, tracing the ornate inscription
with a forefinger
“gûd
daedhelos…Foe of dread”
He drew a shuddering breath,
the last time he’d seen that knife out of sheath had been at the beginning
of the Second Age, when Elros showed him Eönwë’s gift to each of
the Edain leaders. For all he knew, this was the last one remaining.
He shut his eyes and swallowed
as the memory overwhelmed him.
First Age 587
“Look at this Elrond”
The Peredhel didn’t respond
as his twin entered the tent
“Elrond…”
He finally removed his nose from
the book and subjected his gaze at the curved knife his twin held out
for inspection.
“Usable.” He returned to
reading, missing Elros’s frown
“Usable. Is that all you can
say? There are only two of these in the whole of the world Elrond. Mine
and Godwine’s…”
Elrond’s head shot up, his
eyes wide and face pale “Elros no… By all the Valar, please no.”
“No what?” the twin looked
over his shoulder
Elrond’s voice shook “Tell
me you didn’t choose to join the Edain, that you didn’t choose death.”
Elros’ voice stayed steady
“I cannot lie to those who know me well, and most certainly not to
you. You who know my mind and heart like it were your own. I have chosen
the life of men, though it may be three times as long as those who were
our allies today.”
“Elros…” his eyes were
full of tears “Gw - Gwanunig nin” There was no point in fighting
it, not when both heart and fëa were breaking, he slipped to the floor,
on his knees, tears pouring down his cheeks.
Elros silently moved to his twin
and, kneeling, placed his arms around him
“Even if our fates are sundered,
I will always be there with you. I will always be a part of you;
Amparindo”
Even through his tears Elrond
had to smile at his nickname
S.A. 442
Numenor
“Amparindo”
The voice came weakly from his
arms. Elrond looked down at his brother’s ancient face, aged almost
beyond recognition “Yes Gwanunig
nin?”
Elros struggled for breath and
finally managed to speak “The chest, the one which has its end sticking
out from the wall… I want you to take it with you when you leave.”
He gasped for air, fighting once more for breath before continuing “The
things in there are things in there that would mean more to you than
to my heirs, I packed it two days ago. Will you take it?”
Elrond smiled “Of course, is
there any reason for you to doubt?”
His twin laughed weakly “I
guess not…”
Elrond felt
tears filling in his eyes and he angrily swiped them away. It was no
good crying now, after all these years. The hurt dug deeper inside as
he tried to force it away.
His temper broken once more,
he pushed the sheathed knife back into the chest and slammed the lid
down with the palm of his hand. Forcing the padlock closed he pinched
his finger between the two pieces of metal and cursed
“Naicë”
Finally the padlock clanked shut
and Elrond let it swing to thud into the chest side. As he rose and
made to go the elf regretted his harshness and turned back, caressing
the carved ship on the lid in apology.
3 years later (T.A)
“Chainmail, Jacket, Vambraces,
Cloak’s over there, Sword… Sword! Where has it got too?” The confident
check list faded away into confused mumbles as the newly identified
ranger hunted around for his weapon.
“Here Aragorn.” Elrond picked
it up from by the wall and handed it to his foster son.
The young man’s face relaxed
in relief “Hannon le Adar” he frowned in consternation “I
can still call you that can’t I, when its private?”
“Or with the twins, or even
in public. Estel, you will not remove my attentions so easily” The
elf let a laugh creep into his voice
Aragorn smiled in response “I
should have known.” He turned back to the table, now empty of
equipment “I think that’s everything”
“Not quite Estel…” Elrond
reached under his cloak and pulled out the hunting knife, he looked
straight at his foster son “I think it’s time this had a new owner.”
Aragorn was clearly stunned “Adar,
I don’t know what to say…”
Elrond shook his head “You
have no need to say anything… This knife was forged as a trophy
of the War of Wrath, now you will take it on the next stage of its journey
defeating the dark forces. 5951 years is long enough for it to languish
in that chest.” Carefully he knelt and buckled the belt around
Aragorn’s waist “I found a plain strap so it wouldn’t attract
attention.”
He stood up and looked the new
chieftain over, nodding slightly “Onen i-estel
Edain… Galu, Elrosion”
It was only later, when he recalled
the look of surprise on Aragorn’s face, that Elrond realised what
he had called his foster son. Yet somehow the name fitted him.
Much like Elessar, the name he would carry as the King of Arnor and
Gondor… it was truly who Aragorn was.
And the knife had known
Gwanunig
nin = My twin
Amparindo = One who learns
a lot from books
Naicë = Ouch
Hannon le Adar = Thank you
Father
Onen i-estel
Edain = I gave Hope to the
Dúnedain...
Galu,
Elrosion = Good luck, son of Elros
Summary: When young Estel finds something in a long locked chest, Elrond has to confront the memories connected to it…
Rating= K
Disclaimer: Nothing recognisable as Tolkien’s belongs to me. Therefore the once mentioned Godwine is my only possession. ', '
The eighteen year old boy jumped
and looked warily around. The lock on the chest had made a louder noise
than he’d expected when it opened. Satisfied there was no-one coming
to investigate he pushed open the lid. And gasped, the chest was filled
to the brim with objects. Or as his Adar called them ‘valuable artefacts’.
After a minute or so of rifling
the boy lent forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Leaning down
into the deep recesses of the chest he dug with both hands and then
pulled them free, triumphantly clutching the handle of a curved hunting
knife, still in its surprisingly plain sheath. Before he could
properly examine his prize a dark robed arm swooped over his shoulder
and its attached hand snatched the knife away. The boy spun round on
his knees to be faced by long, flowing robes at eye level, raising his
gaze he came face to face with his father, the Lord of Imladris
“Go to your room Estel.”
The elf lord’s voice was deadly quiet
The boy stayed still, holding
his hand out for the knife “Can I have it please”
“Go to your room” The voice
got louder
“I want the knife Adar, an
old searching law still stands here: finders keepers”
“GO TO YOUR ROOM!”
Estel found himself hauled upright
by the collar and practically thrown out into the corridor, with the
door slammed behind him for good measure
Elrond staggered backward and
collapsed in the chair. He hadn’t meant to react like that, much less
physically eject his adoptive son from the room. He looked down at the
object clutched by a set of white knuckles. Relaxing his grip he, slowly,
reverently, drew the knife from its sheath, tracing the ornate inscription
with a forefinger
“gûd
daedhelos…Foe of dread”
He drew a shuddering breath,
the last time he’d seen that knife out of sheath had been at the beginning
of the Second Age, when Elros showed him Eönwë’s gift to each of
the Edain leaders. For all he knew, this was the last one remaining.
He shut his eyes and swallowed
as the memory overwhelmed him.
First Age 587
“Look at this Elrond”
The Peredhel didn’t respond
as his twin entered the tent
“Elrond…”
He finally removed his nose from
the book and subjected his gaze at the curved knife his twin held out
for inspection.
“Usable.” He returned to
reading, missing Elros’s frown
“Usable. Is that all you can
say? There are only two of these in the whole of the world Elrond. Mine
and Godwine’s…”
Elrond’s head shot up, his
eyes wide and face pale “Elros no… By all the Valar, please no.”
“No what?” the twin looked
over his shoulder
Elrond’s voice shook “Tell
me you didn’t choose to join the Edain, that you didn’t choose death.”
Elros’ voice stayed steady
“I cannot lie to those who know me well, and most certainly not to
you. You who know my mind and heart like it were your own. I have chosen
the life of men, though it may be three times as long as those who were
our allies today.”
“Elros…” his eyes were
full of tears “Gw - Gwanunig nin” There was no point in fighting
it, not when both heart and fëa were breaking, he slipped to the floor,
on his knees, tears pouring down his cheeks.
Elros silently moved to his twin
and, kneeling, placed his arms around him
“Even if our fates are sundered,
I will always be there with you. I will always be a part of you;
Amparindo”
Even through his tears Elrond
had to smile at his nickname
S.A. 442
Numenor
“Amparindo”
The voice came weakly from his
arms. Elrond looked down at his brother’s ancient face, aged almost
beyond recognition “Yes Gwanunig
nin?”
Elros struggled for breath and
finally managed to speak “The chest, the one which has its end sticking
out from the wall… I want you to take it with you when you leave.”
He gasped for air, fighting once more for breath before continuing “The
things in there are things in there that would mean more to you than
to my heirs, I packed it two days ago. Will you take it?”
Elrond smiled “Of course, is
there any reason for you to doubt?”
His twin laughed weakly “I
guess not…”
Elrond felt
tears filling in his eyes and he angrily swiped them away. It was no
good crying now, after all these years. The hurt dug deeper inside as
he tried to force it away.
His temper broken once more,
he pushed the sheathed knife back into the chest and slammed the lid
down with the palm of his hand. Forcing the padlock closed he pinched
his finger between the two pieces of metal and cursed
“Naicë”
Finally the padlock clanked shut
and Elrond let it swing to thud into the chest side. As he rose and
made to go the elf regretted his harshness and turned back, caressing
the carved ship on the lid in apology.
3 years later (T.A)
“Chainmail, Jacket, Vambraces,
Cloak’s over there, Sword… Sword! Where has it got too?” The confident
check list faded away into confused mumbles as the newly identified
ranger hunted around for his weapon.
“Here Aragorn.” Elrond picked
it up from by the wall and handed it to his foster son.
The young man’s face relaxed
in relief “Hannon le Adar” he frowned in consternation “I
can still call you that can’t I, when its private?”
“Or with the twins, or even
in public. Estel, you will not remove my attentions so easily” The
elf let a laugh creep into his voice
Aragorn smiled in response “I
should have known.” He turned back to the table, now empty of
equipment “I think that’s everything”
“Not quite Estel…” Elrond
reached under his cloak and pulled out the hunting knife, he looked
straight at his foster son “I think it’s time this had a new owner.”
Aragorn was clearly stunned “Adar,
I don’t know what to say…”
Elrond shook his head “You
have no need to say anything… This knife was forged as a trophy
of the War of Wrath, now you will take it on the next stage of its journey
defeating the dark forces. 5951 years is long enough for it to languish
in that chest.” Carefully he knelt and buckled the belt around
Aragorn’s waist “I found a plain strap so it wouldn’t attract
attention.”
He stood up and looked the new
chieftain over, nodding slightly “Onen i-estel
Edain… Galu, Elrosion”
It was only later, when he recalled
the look of surprise on Aragorn’s face, that Elrond realised what
he had called his foster son. Yet somehow the name fitted him.
Much like Elessar, the name he would carry as the King of Arnor and
Gondor… it was truly who Aragorn was.
And the knife had known
Gwanunig
nin = My twin
Amparindo = One who learns
a lot from books
Naicë = Ouch
Hannon le Adar = Thank you
Father
Onen i-estel
Edain = I gave Hope to the
Dúnedain...
Galu,
Elrosion = Good luck, son of Elros