FicWad

The moment Elrond and the rest of his party reached the riverbank, the Lord of Rivendell leapt down from his horse, running toward Elladan and Estel.

Elladan met his father's eyes sadly. "He has lost consciousness, Ada. I did not know what to do."

Elrond ruffled his son's hair. "You did the right thing. The warmth your body lent to his may be the only reason he still breathes. I need you to hold him, continue to keep his head above the water. Mithrandir and I will handle the tree." The elf-lord turned to Legolas, "When the tree has been suspended, help Elladan with Estel. Do not put any undue pressure on the left side of his body. He will have sustained some serious injuries."

At the thought of the damage that could be done to his friend's all too mortal young body, Legolas shuddered, but moved into position to help Elladan.

Gandalf raised his staff, and Elrond his ring, and the tree began to rise into the air. Working quickly, Legolas and Elladan took Estel's limp form and laid him out on the earth. The young Ranger's forehead was hot with fever, but he did not wake.

Watching in awe as the wizard and the elf-lord disposed of the tree, Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas could feel the air nearly crackling with power. It was easy to forget that Mithrandir was a very powerful wizard when he was sitting before the fire smoking his pipe and telling tales of his many adventures, just as it was difficult to imagine the power Elrond wielded with Vilya.

As soon as the tree had been safely discarded, Elrond dropped his hand to his side, massaging his fingers as the ring's power still caused them to tingle. Gandalf lowered his staff, once again leaning upon it as though it were nothing more than a walking stick. Elrond's attention did not rest on his own discomfort for long. When his eyes fell upon his sons, he ran to them, dropping to his knees in the mud beside Estel.

"Estel! Open your eyes, my son. Do not linger in the darkness any longer."

Estel stirred slightly, a moan escaping his lips. "Cold ... "

Quickly, Elrond removed his warm elven cloak and wrapped it around his foster son. "He is badly hurt. We must get him back to Rivendell where I can tend to him properly."

Elrohir helped his father lift Estel onto his horse. The elf-lord supported Estel against his own body, afraid to hold him too tightly because of his wounds. Even in his barely conscious state, Estel's body was racked with pain with every jarring step of the horse. Elrond pressed his hand to the too-warm forehead, whispering to him in elvish. He felt Estel's body go completely slack, and was glad that he would not be awake for the painful journey home.

Upon their return to Rivendell, the first priority was getting Estel into his bed. Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas stood back and watched, pale-faced, as Elrond and Gandalf began removing Estel's soaked, torn clothing. Unable to hide their horror, everyone in the room, including Gandalf, gasped at the state of the young ranger's body. His left shoulder, arm, and side were bruised black, the shoulder obviously, painfully dislocated. His left leg was badly bruised, and there was a ragged wound where the rock had dug into his flesh until it pressed the bone. As if the bruising was not bad enough, cuts and scrapes abounded as well.

Elrond's first thought was to get his shoulder taken care of before he regained consciousness. Gandalf held the young Ranger firmly while Elrond snapped the joint back into place. Unfortunately, as the shoulder made an audible cracking sound, Estel opened frightened, feverish eyes.

"No! Please, no more!"

Cradling his foster son's head, the Lord of Rivendell tried to soothe him. "Shh, shh, Estel. You are badly hurt, but I will make it better. Soon, it will not hurt."

Estel was not aware of reality, as the fever had sent him into delirium. He thrashed restlessly on his bed, and when Legolas and Elrond tried to hold him still, he mumbled half-incoherently about events long past. "I am sorry, Ada! Please, do not send me away!"

Tears rolled silently down Elrond's face. Would the damage he had done to Estel's soul never heal? He had thought that the dreams of his exile and subsequent orc captivity had faded completely, but here was evidence that they had not.

"He is dreaming of when I exiled him. That was years ago. I had thought he had recovered from that."

Legolas shook his head. "I do not mean to be unkind, but I speak the truth. He dreams of it often, even when no fever plagues him. He loves you and he loves Rivendell, but he will ever be wary."

The Elven Lord of Rivendell sighed, running his hand lovingly through his foster son's hair. "Peace, my son. Sleep in peace." Once again, Estel's body relaxed, his face buried in the soft fabrics of his father's robes.

"Will he be well?" Arwen stood in the doorway, tears clinging to her eyelashes, but otherwise composed.

"Your presence can only help, Undomiel. See? At the sound of your voice, his breathing has become more regular."

It was true, and obviously so, as Estel calmed visibly as she softly stroked his forehead. "I will sit with him, Ada. I will soothe him while you work. Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas are too wet and dusty with travel to touch Estel."

Elrond nodded his agreement, mustering a small smile for his sons and their friend. "She is right. You must all three bathe and change your clothes before you may come back into this room. Legolas and Elladan started for the door, but Elrohir hung back, a worried frown marring his youthful elven face. Elrond rose from Estel's bed, leaving Arwen to tend him alone for a few moments so that he could embrace his son. "Elrohir, it was not your fault. Estel will be all right. He pushed you out of the path of danger because you are his brother and he loves you. You or Elladan would do the same for him, would you not?"

"He pushed me out of the way, Ada. I did not even know what was happening until I saw him lying beneath that tree." He shuddered at the memory. "Why would he do such a thing? It would truly have been better if it was I who was wounded. My firstborn blood would have seen me partially healed by now."

Elrond thought for a moment before answering. Elrohir was right, of course. Had the tree fallen on his elven sons, the injuries would have been painful but not life-threatening. "Estel is a mortal raised among immortals. In many ways, our immortality causes him to feel too keenly the frailty of Men."

Mithrandir finished grinding the herbs he had been preparing, laying his mortar and pestle aside. "In many other ways, however, growing up here in Rivendell has turned our Estel into a bit of a daredevil, I fear."

"He is every bit as cautious, if not more so, than Elladan and I!" Elrohir defended his human brother's character fiercely.

The old wizard nodded in agreement. "Yes, he is. Think about this, Elrohir. If you or Legolas or Elladan decide to leap over a small gorge, what is the worst that could happen? Your horse might balk, you might fall a bit, but your injuries will heal. If a warg takes a bite of your arm, your elven strength will sustain you until it can be treated. If you are traveling in a storm, you do not have to worry about being taken ill. When traveling in snow, you can walk atop the drifts. Estel does everything you do, goes everywhere you go, but he does not have the luxury of being an elf. He lives among elves, thinks like an elf, and is in love with an elf." Mithrandir smiled at Arwen, who looked up from tending Estel just enough to blush prettily. "But, he is no elf and he knows this."

A soft moan from Estel ended their discussion. The young Ranger's eyes were open and he blinked as if to clear his vision, his eyelids again drooping closed. Arwen smoothed his hair. "Open your eyes, Estel. You are safe at home now."

Slowly, he opened his eyes. At the sight of Arwen, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Arwen wiped the sweat and grime from his face with a soft cloth, working her way down his neck to his shoulders and chest. "Speak to me, Estel. Tell me what hurts and what I may do to make it better."

His voice was a whisper, but it held a note of humor. "My Lady, there are only two places that do not hurt, and they are my chin and my right index finger. If you wish, I could point at something for you."

Arwen gently lifted his right hand to her lips and kissed his index finger, then leaned close to him and kissed his chin. "Better?"

"Much."

"Hrrrummph."

They were interrupted by the sound of Gandalf clearing his throat. The gray- robed wizard glanced at Elrond, who was watching his daughter with a cross of stern disapproval and paternal worry. Arwen pulled away from Estel, and Elrond relaxed visibly. When the elven lord reached out to touch his human son, Estel's body tensed, and he closed his eyes against the added pain.

Elrond did not realize his mistake, that Estel had seen the disapproval on his face, and he leaned closer. "You need to open your eyes, Estel. You opened them a few moments ago, and I need for you to do that again, all right?" He brushed the straggling, mud-caked hair from Estel's forehead, and the young human again tensed, causing pain to erupt all over his body.

Estel gasped, straining to sit up, then collapsed against the pillows. Tears leaked from the corners of his tightly closed eyes. "I'm sorry, Ada. I'm sorry. I-I c-can't - " The pain from moving caused him to black out.

"Ada? What is the matter?" Arwen frowned in concern.

"Nothing, my child. Only it is time for you to leave this room, at least until Mithrandir and I can get Estel bathed and clothed. His fever still burns."

Obediently but hesitantly, Arwen left the room. "Ada, please tell me when I may sit with him again. I didn't even get to thank him for saving Elrohir."

Elrond nodded. "It is you that he truly wishes to see. When we are finished here, I will send for you."

After Arwen had gone, Elrond looked to Gandalf in confusion. "What has happened? In one moment, he has gone from lying quietly to apologizing for the Valar know what!"

Gandalf shook his head sadly. "He saw."

"Saw what?"

"He saw the expression on your face when Arwen was ministering to him."

At that moment, Elrond knew that the wizard was right. He had thought that he had done a good job of hiding his reservations about Arwen's relationship with Estel, but he remembered his thoughts during the moment that he had seen his daughter lay a kiss upon Edain flesh. His thoughts had not been complimentary. He had let his guard down, shown his true feelings, and Estel had seen it.

At Estel's bedside, Elrond and Gandalf watched the young Ranger for a moment. Estel's skin was pale, and sweat was beaded on his forehead. The ghastly contrast of the bruises and scratches was enough to make Elrond's heart clench painfully. Getting him cleaned up was a difficult task, but once it was finished, Estel rested so much more comfortably that it was worth the difficulty. After a thorough examination, Elrond determined that Estel had broken three ribs, and bruised several more. His left leg was not broken, but the bone was cracked. The shoulder that had been dislocated made a sickening grinding sound when the arm was moved, and on top of it all, the prolonged exposure to cold and water had caused his fever.

And then, Elrond thought sadly, he had added the extra burden of guilt to the young man's already troubled heart. Determination filled the elf-lord. Estel would recover, in body and in spirit. Was Elrond not known far and wide as the best healer in Middle Earth? Estel needed his family and friends close during the long recovery that lay ahead, and Elrond resolved to do whatever it took to bring the young Ranger around.