Title: Through the Ages
Author: Mawgy
Beta: Naresha (Thanks Darling)
Dedicated to my Boney Arse *winks* *sheep*
Rated: PG (for bullying themes) (will eventually be NC-17)
Genre: Ansgt
Warnings: Bullying. Rape and humiliation in later chapters.
Pairing: (eventually) Erestor/Glorfindel
Summary: This fic follows the somewhat sordid lives of Erestor and Glorfindel from their childhood in Gondolin to their re-acquaintance in Imladris. Glorfindel is a Lord much like in medieval times and has power over everything and everyone, and Erestor, a lowly peasant.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no money from this story… I just like to play with other people’s toys. :D
A/N: As far as age goes, I believe Elves age at half the rate of humans, so while Erestor is 20 in this chapter, he looks like a 10 year old.
Chapter 3
Earane wanted to surprise Erestor. Not only had the King bought the headwear for twice the price Galshor had originally promised, but had also asked for another two to be made for the same price! Earane was practically skipping on his way to rendezvous with his son as Erestor walked home.
Approaching the field in front of the classroom, he could see a group of children all huddling close together around… something. Earane merely shrugged it off. By the way the students were cheering and yelling, it sounded just like his old days, back when he was at school. The children then used to race frogs and made just as much ruckus as the children were making now.
Yet knowing Erestor was far too sensible to participate in such activities, nor would he be accepted into the other children’s games, Earane gave them a wide berth and continued his way to the classroom.
However, a pained yelp reached his ears, sounding very much like Erestor. Frowning, Earane changed course and headed back over to his sons’ classmates. Over a sea of heads, Earane was able to see three boys ferociously stamping, kicking, punching and screaming at something on the ground. Looking around Earane saw a dirty old book that once belonged to him that he had given to Erestor to read. Looking back into the centre of the circle, Earane watched as the boys paused for a moment, two of them dragging something up from the ground and the other spat towards the object, then his fist flew at full speed, punching the object one last time before it crumpled to the ground, battered and broken. He saw at the last second that it was Erestor when a spectator shifted her stance.
Panicking, the craftsman ploughed through the children, all of whom were too pre-occupied cheering to have noticed him before. Shoving his son’s attackers aside, Earane knelt down to examine his bloody and bruised offspring.
Cradling a limp hand in his own, Earane called out. “Erestor?… Erestor speak to me!… Erestor!… Oh no… no… nonono… Gods no…” he whimpered, trailing off, fearful too much damage had been done to save his child. The children watched the scene unfold before them speechless, unmoving, unimpassioned as tears of horror, shock and fear fell from Earane’s eyes as he looked his son over. After thoroughly but quickly inspecting the small body for major injuries, he gently picked Erestor up before jogging away as smoothly as possible, so as not to cause further harm to his son. He went to see Clorel, the master Healer.
Galdor, Glorfindel and Ecthelion struggled up from the ground after being knocked over for the second time that day, landing in a heap of arms and legs. There was no remorse on their faces as they watched Erestor being carried away, only a sense of achievement and a new stroke of mischief stir within them. Smiling slyly to one another, they marched home.
~*~*~*~*~
“Cirilea! CIRILEA!” Earane shouted as he kicked his foot upon the wooden door, impatient for the she-Elf to come and grant him entrance. “OPEN UP!” The door slowly swung open on its hinges and a small, rather timid looking Elleth peered around the doorframe at her deceased best friend’s husband.
“Yes?” she asked, but was interrupted as Earane barged in, almost slamming her against the wall with the door as he brushed past.
“I apologise for my intrusion, but you must see to Erestor immediately. Please? I have been to all the Healers but they turned me away. Please? I know of no other who can help.”
“Why? What has happened to him?” she fretted.
“Those *bullies* in his class… no doubt punishing him for my failings… I shall explain later, just see to him, would you, please?” he begged.
“Of course. I shall do what I can, but I am not a qualified heal-”
“I do not care. Any skills are better than none right now,” Earane persisted as he lay Erestor down on the meal table and stepped out of the way.
He had first gone to see Clorel, whom had begun to examine Erestor carefully. However, barely five minutes into the session, a messenger had arrived and gave a note to Clorel, saying it was urgent. The Healer glanced at the note, his face paling in seconds as his gaze swung to Earane. He quickly packed his tools away and sent Erestor and his father on their way.
Shocked, Earane had only moments to indulge his confusion before turning to the next best Healer. However, he, and all the others that followed, either refused to see him at all or the same scene that happened with Clorel occurred all over again. Panicking Earane begged and pleaded for their skills with Erestor draped over his arms, but their refusal stuck.
Not knowing where else to go, Earane went to Cirilea, his dead wife’s best friend and the midwife whom had helped bring Erestor into this world.
“His injuries are grave,” Cirliea commented to herself as she divested the Elfling of his clothes.
“Can you help him?” Earane asked fearfully.
“I can, though it will take almost all night to bandage his wounds.”
“Do whatever you must,” Earane said strongly, though his voice broke in worry. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Boil some water and stay out of the way,” Cirilea ordered as she went to work on the small, unresponsive Elfling.
Many hours later, Cirilea lay aside her equipment and went to Earane, whom she had sent out of the room some time before, his constant fretting getting on her nerves.
“I have done all I can. His arm is broken and must be set by a proper Healer. He has a cracked rib and should not move much lest he makes it worse. Other than that, I have bandaged and cared for his injuries as best I can,” she informed wearily, having worked into the wee hours of the morning, the sun’s rising soon to begin.
“Thankyou Cirilea. You have no idea how much I appreciate you doing this for me. I thought I would die when every Healer refused to tend to him. Or worse… he would…” Earane sighed with worry and relief.
“Why would the Healers send you away though? It goes against every instinct they possess, both as a Healer and as an Elf,” Cirilea questioned.
“I do not know why they would not see him, only that they wouldn’t.”
“What did he do to sustain such injuries in the first place?”
“I found his classmates surrounding him while a few pummelled him. Though which ones in particular I am unsure. As soon as I saw Erestor hurt, beaten and broken on the ground, everything else faded away.”
“It would not even matter which children it were!” Cirilea gasped. “All of those in Erestor’s class are the offspring of very influential people. What did you do when you saw this?”
Earane looked at Cirilea in wonderment for a moment. “Well I didn’t join in, that’s for sure! I went to Erestor’s aid of course!”
“Yes, but how did you reach him? You said the students were ‘surrounding him’…?”
“Well, I ran through those watching and… knocked. The. Others. Away…” Earane slowed his talking as he realised fully what he had done.
“Yes, and if those picking on him are the ones I am thinking of, then their fathers would have threatened the Healers their jobs if they helped you. And now… they can do almost anything they wish to you…. I realise reaching your son was the forefront thought going through your mind, but your actions, well intended or not, still forced a Lord’s child into doing something he wished not to do. They or their parents will surely seek retribution now… The Healers sending you away will only be the beginning.”
Earane groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “And today started off so well…”
Cirilea sobered. “Well, for now you are going to take your son home, get some sleep and not dwell on the up-coming consequences of your instinctive actions. Just deal with them as they come. No point in worrying about them now. Besides, the King seems to have taken a liking to Erestor, perhaps he will intervene and be lenient should he decide on a punishment himself,” Cirilea counselled wisely, leaving her friend with some hope.
“You are right, as usual,” Earane said standing and walking back to his son.
“I have administered a pain-reducing potion. Here is another if he suffers much when he wakes. Try not to move him too much. And, if possible, see a Healer as soon as you are able. His arm must be set before it starts to mend, otherwise the Healer may have to re-break it in order to set it straight. And make sure he checks for internal bleeding. It is beyond my skill to determine if there is any. Also, I am somewhat concerned that Erestor has yet to wake. His head wasn’t too badly hurt, so it appears he was not knocked unconscious, though maybe his body is tired from having to heal such vicious wounds… I, I really cannot say. I am sorry I cannot be more help.”
“There is no need to be sorry. You have done all you can, that is more than what anyone else has done for me tonight. Thankyou… for your help, your kindness… everything. Thankyou,” Earane said as he left and carried Erestor home.
~*~*~*~*~
“He has a concussion, a broken arm, which has yet to be set. I would have done it myself, but I have not the training for such an intricate task. A cracked rib, possible internal bleeding, a black eye, several small cuts and numerous more bruises, your majesty,” Cirilea recited to King Turgon. He had heard of what had occurred the day before late last night, and, despite other Lords’ protests, he decided to deal with the matter himself and first thing in the morning. The preparation for the proceeding was rather rushed, but knowing that Erestor had yet to be fully examined by a Healer, it was also the King’s wish that this matter was dealt with as soon as possible so the young one could be treated.
“Thankyou, you are dismissed.”
Cirilea left, giving Earane a small encouraging smile as she passed.
Turgon sat back on his throne and sighed heavily, steadying himself before he gave his judgement. “I think it is disgraceful that Gondolin’s future Lords would act so basely, especially to one younger than themselves. Even more so when he was alone and defenceless and there were three of you! And though you may be many years from your Majority yet, that does not excuse your behaviour. While Erestor could be obligated to serve further punishment, after hearing his list of injuries, I find none is necessary, not that he would be able to cater those requirements in his current condition anyway.”
Quiet whispers and murmurs fell from several lips around the room and Turgon took a moment to gauge the general consensus. A few particular individuals were predictably upset with his ruling; some seemed almost happy, yet most had a look of surprise on their faces. Whether that was due to them expecting a harsher punishment, or that a peasant had never before been excused when a Lord demanded retribution, Turgon knew not. But Erestor was a unique case. Even at a young age, Turgon could see he would one day be working along side those trying to bring him down now. The sooner they started treating him like an equal, the better it would be for both parties.
Of course, now that he had let Erestor off, he had to make one of two choices. Give Earane the same ruling, or punish him twice as harshly to make up for the lack of reproach Erestor is receiving. The mutterings ceased sooner than he wanted, but realising they were waiting for the next sentence to be handed out, the King started.
Making a show of it, King Turgon looked to his left and smiled lovingly at his daughter Idril. “If ever someone lay a hand upon my child, I believe I would react in very much the same way Earane did. In fact, I would hope all parents were equally concerned about their offspring’s wellbeing.
“I would like it put on record that all Earane did to harm Galdor, Ecthelion and Glorfindel was to push them out of the way long enough to gather Erestor up and take him to the Healers. It is therefore my belief that none of them have sustained lasting injury, and as such, I see little reason in ordering Earane to make amends for his actions. I also firmly believe that Lord Galshor’s order for the Healers to turn Earane away is more than fair punishment for any parent to bear while their only child may be dying in their very arms. However, this shall be rectified immediately. I order for Healer Clorel to see to Erestor’s injuries immediately. And I also hereby revoke a Lord’s power to interfere with a Healer’s responsibility when attending to an injured Elf. I only hope that never again shall an incident like this occur, and never again shall a Healer turn anyone away from their practice, unless they choose to do so themselves. That is all,” he commanded and leaned back to listen to the chatter that exploded throughout the room. Galdor, Glorfindel and Ecthelion had a look of wild anger covering their faces, while their father’s reactions were more controlled, but their fury shone through their barely restrained features. Again, most were surprised Earane had been released without punishment and that the King had made a new law without consulting his Lords first. With the session’s end, change surely seemed to be in the air in the hidden city of Gondolin.
Earane himself was numb. He kept pinching his left wrist with his right hand, felt the pain, but was unable to react to the sensation. His shoulders slumped in relief for his son and himself. After hearing the whole story this morning, Earane realised they had both pushed Elves of power and should be ordered to do the person’s bidding for as long as they wished, within reason. Yet somehow, King Turgon had miraculously decided they had suffered enough to make further reprimand unnecessary.
A gentle hand on his shoulder roused him from his state of disbelief.
“Earane, bring the boy to my clinic and I shall examine him at once,” Clorel said. Earane moved his head but did not turn around. He nodded his head once in understanding and watched from the corner of his eye as the Healer left. Facing the front again, Earane’s eyes met Turgon’s for a moment and gave his King a small, but very grateful smile, a quick bow and then left the Hall.
Minutes later, Earane watched on as Clorel washed, re-bound and re-examined Erestor’s condition, and also set his arm. Luckily there was no internal bleeding and his arm had barely started to heal, so there was no need to re-beak the limb in order to lay it properly.
Erestor had yet to wake since his father had found him and Earane began to worry for his son’s lack of consciousness.
“It isn’t common, but it does happen,” Clorel reassured him when Earane spoke of his concern. “He shall come to in his own time. Put simply, his body is not used to this condition, nor should it be, and as such it is working overtime to put things back together properly. His body is using a lot of energy to heal himself and not enough into bringing him back to consciousness.”
Earane nodded his head in understanding and started slightly when a voice spoke behind him. “Walk with me,” Turgon said quietly, standing in the doorway.
“Of course, my Lord,” Earane said as he turned, but motioned back to Erestor. “Though I would rather be here in case he wakes.”
“This shan’t take long.” Turgon insisted gently and walked out, leaving Earane no option but to follow.
“I am sorry that events have escalated to this end. Had I known how deeply the other Lords would disapprove of Erestor’s learning with their children I would have reconsidered my position and decision concerning your son. Or, at the very least extended my protection to him. A mistake I shall rectify shortly. Tonight I have asked all Lords and their families to join me for dinner. I will then announce that Erestor is not be harmed by them again until he has finished his Master qualifications.”
“What of the boys involved this time? Are they to receive any form of reprimand?”
“Unfortunately, no. It was well within their rights to do as they did. As much as I may wish to punish them, I cannot. I am sorry,” Turgon spoke softly, his demeanour clearly showing no lie to his words.
Earane considered his King’s words for a moment. “Well, thankyou, my Lord, but even so, I am not sure I would like Erestor to be exposed to those miscre- I mean children,” Earane caught himself, but Turgon shared a knowing smile with the craftsman. “I shall of course speak with Erestor before any decision is final, but I personally would rather him not to continue his education there. Or perhaps join another classroom, rather than one where there is a high population of House Lords’ children…?”
“Would you be able to afford to send him elsewhere? Regretfully I must adhere to my original arrangement to pay for Erestor’s schooling, provided he remains with the class first assigned to him. Change his classes now and the children there shall be just as bad after all the publicity this stunt has caused. Not to mention that there is barely enough students in each class per year level as it is; Erestor will either have to skip another year or be held down to repeat this year’s work if he is to find another class. I very much doubt either choice would be very beneficial to his learning. And personal tutors are very expensive. I am sorry I cannot be of more help. However, you are his father, the decision lies with you, just be sure to think hard before reaching a decision and what a quality education could do for your son’s future.”
Earane said nothing as they continued walking.
~*~*~*~*~
“I am sorry Ada,” Erestor said croakily when he came to that night, his father waking with a start after slowly dozing off in the chair he had pulled to the side of the bed.
“Oh my son, there is nothing to be sorry about. You did what you believed to be right,” Earane soothed him, idly stroking Erestor’s hair.
“Did I get you in trouble?”
“No, everything is already settled. King Turgon pardoned us both, but we shall speak of that later. For now, how are you feeling?”
“I hurt… everywhere.” Earane nodded his head, having expected such a reply.
“I have a pain-reducing tonic, if you would like some?”
Erestor slowly nodded his head, but the pain bubbling behind eyes forced him to stop quickly, yet Earane understood his son’s wishes nonetheless. Earane administered the potion and a large glass of water to wash away the disgusting taste.
Erestor soon fell back into a peaceful sleep as Earane carefully watched over his son’s slow progression back to health.
~*~*~*~*~
The next morning Master Tamarin came by to apologise profusely for allowing this to happen, even though there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. He had also kindly brought Erestor all the holiday reading material he had asked for and offered to read them to his pupil once Erestor was strong enough to take in all the information, thereby also allowing Earane time to work while knowing his son was being watched over by someone. The craftsman desired very much not to leave Erestor’s side in the young one’s time of need, but also knew he could not afford to be out of commission just for wanting to care for his son.
Erestor drifted in and out of consciousness for the first week of his recovery. He woke only long enough to eat something, have half a conversation then fall back into a healing slumber in the middle of a sentence.
His superficial wounds had healed by the 10th day since the afternoon on the field. His bones had started to knit back together, and while they would take another few weeks to mend completely, Erestor was no longer confined to his bed during the day.
Earane had quickly made the other two circlets for his King during the first week of Erestor’s healing, trusting Tamarin and Cirilea to call him should Erestor’s condition alter drastically. Though they were not quite as exquisite as the first he had made, they were just as beautiful.
By the end of the third week, Erestor had read, or had been read half his requested reading and Earane had been assigned enough work to keep him busy for the entire summer. This pick up in business had been spurred on by a hastily organized, impromptu feast Turgon had decided to host one evening. He, his wife and daughter all wore the circlets Earane had made, showing off their beautiful, newly acquired wares. All present at the meal had inquired as to where they too could purchase such quality craftsmanship. Turgon was only too pleased to tell them and since then Earane had barely enough time to write down people’s wishes before another customer requisitioned something else. So busy was he that Erestor made up a little study area in a corner of his father’s workshop for himself, just so they could spend some time together. Again, Earane would have liked to hold off on work until Erestor was completely healed, but work in jewellery production was unstable. At times, requests would come thick and fast, other times slim pickings at best. Earane would be mad to turn down any offers just to spend time with his son, despite all that had recently transpired.
Now that he was reading on his own again, Tamarin came every few days to bring new books for Erestor and collect the old ones as the child quickly devoured all the books on the original reading list, and he was yet to be allowed to leave the house to go to the library for himself. Cirilea also visited the house frequently, usually bringing food to make sure Erestor’s body received enough nourishment and that Earane did not work himself to death.
Word soon spread about Erestor gaining King Turgon’s protection and Earane knew he would soon need to speak to Erestor about his educational future.
Three weeks after the incident, Earane was cutting up Erestor’s meat. While his arm was no longer broken, lack of use had left the limb rather sensitive and weak, but with light exercise, he should regain full operation of it within two weeks.
“Erestor,” Earane began, having finally gathered the courage to discuss the matter with the small Elf, knowing his son would most likely throw his own words back at him, and how many opportunities a good education would give him. “Are you looking forward to going back to school?”
“MmmHmm,” Erestor mumbled around a mouthful of food.
“You… you wish to go back then?”
Erestor nodded his head, still chewing on his dinner.
“What about the other boys? Are you not afraid they shall try and harm you again?”
Erestor shook his head. “No. Master Tamarin told me King Turgon has extended his protection to me.” Earane nodded his head, but frowned, wishing Tamarin had not told Erestor without his knowledge. Yet he knew that even so, he did not possess the strength to deny Erestor anything.
“Very well… just, be careful, please?” Earane hated the way he begged.
“I will Ada,” Erestor promised.
~*~*~*~*~
“Good morning everybody.”
“Good morning, Mistress Kamarla,” the class droned together.
“I have here a reminder to you that ‘Erestor, son of Earane is hereby henceforth under the protection of Turgon, King of Gondolin,’” Kamarla read from the parchment. Erestor meanwhile slumped in his chair in embarrassment. It was one thing for the King to give his protection, but it was another to have his authority on the matter flaunted on the very first day back at school. It certainly wouldn’t help him become any more popular with his classmates. But, given that his chances were always slim in regards to that eventuality transpiring, this would hardly make a dent in his reputation. “The way in which I interpret this message,” the teacher continued, waving the piece of paper around, “is that you are to basically pretend he does not exist. And, to help you, I shall do exactly the same… Lead you by my own example, as it were,” she said with an overly sweet smile. “So, if everyone would please turn to the introduction of your Elven Lore book, we shall officially start a new year of learning.”
Erestor frowned at the teacher’s words, wondering if she would do as she said, and if so, what would become of his marks if she pretended his work also did not exist? But the instructions to open his book soon filled his mind and he readied to begin learning all he could this year and he sat, awaiting further instructions once he had done as the teacher directed.
“Who would like to read out loud the first paragraph for the class?” Kamarla asked. Erestor’s hand was the only one that shot into the air. Yet the tutor looked past him as though he was not there. “How about you, Miss Luquanda?”
Erestor slowly lowered his hand, doubt of his decision to come back to school starting to sneak its way into his head.
TBC
Parmasambe
Library of Imladris
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.