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Title: A Song in a Song
Author: Hare (harefic@yahoo.com)
Type: FCS
Characters: Lindir, Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: PG-13 mainly, R rarely.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters found in this story nor was I creative enough to invent their world. I make no profit except in joy.
Timeline: Early Third Age
Warnings: Slash – some angst, some fluff, some romance. Not a songfic but a new genera Erfan and I call bum-fluff wherein a character lusts for another’s bum but the reader gets only fluff.
Beta: Weeping Naiad – a friend AND a scholar. Thank you, my dear.
Entry: 2008 Glorestor Challenge
Dedicated: To Patricia “slayer9649”, rescuer of orphans.
Author’s Note: A huge thank you to the “Tale Spinners”, Ezimachia and Svengalliedhare, for unwavering support and advice. Svengalliedhare, with whom I proudly share 25% of my genes, wrote all the songs in this story with edits by me. ***Except for the first and last sections this entire story is from Erestor’s POV


Chapter 1

Linael clung to the tree terrified. His nana stood close desperately urging him upwards and his ada cried at top voice as he slogged after Duinfel. The water was already up to their knees as the river swelled its banks

“Climb higher, my beautiful. That is good. Up, up to where the birds roost. Stop, pen dithen. Stay right there. Do not let go, Linael. No matter what happens hold tight.”

“Nana!” Linael cried out as his mother rushed away from the base of the tree. He started to slide down the trunk when his nana turned back.

“Nay, Linael. Stay or I will send your ada to punish you for disobeying me.”

Linael stopped, frightened by the fear he heard in his nana’s voice and the threat of her warning. Slowly, reluctantly he shimmied back up to the highest branch that could bear his weight, holding her eyes the entire time.

“I love you, Linael.” She turned then and moved sluggishly through the ever rising water to where his ada was struggling with Duinfel. Linael knew this was no game, and he yelled at Duinfel. But his brother was too young to understand, too far away to hear. Duinfel continued to giggle and splash in the water even as his ada strained against the surging river which was now waist high.

He continued to cry out for his brother and parents to join him in safety, desperate for their nearness, yet the water was pushing them farther away. Rain came sudden and fierce, pounding his exposed body, and the accompanying wind created an eerie symphony as if encouraging each gust to sweep him from his perch.

High above in the mountains beyond, the sounds of the earth groaning heralded the first deafening, cracking roars. The cacophony reverberated through the lowland as the spring thaw broke violently and swiftly poured into the cramped valley. The destructive wave of brackish water struck his family. Their limp bodies tossed skyward then fell back to the water where they lifelessly danced amongst the debris before disappearing from sight. Linael, cleaving to the tree, screamed soundlessly against the chaotic din.

As quickly as the storm came it ceased, stilling the turmoil and a hush fell over the valley. The day drifted to night and one tiny voice emerged calling out its mournful song.

~oOo~

The healing wing overflowed with injured elves and several humans. Vilya had spared the inhabitants of Imladris though it did not have influence on areas outside its borders. The spring flooding had taken the entire area by surprise and, immortal though they may be, no elf could breathe water. Coughs and ragged gasping filled the air as the healers, stretched thin for many days, raced around, tending to those seriously ill and hoping those they unwillingly neglected would not turn for the worse. The area was cramped with hastily constructed beds and the counselors, maids, soldiers and ladies who had been recruited into duty.

Erestor purveyed the scene from the far corner of the large room. His nose wrinkled from the stench of open wounds which defied healing. This was a place of pain and suffering and he avoided it whenever possible as it was outside of his realm of understanding and none of the actions here were within his control. The sights and the sounds threatened to overwhelm him so he turned his eyes downward and focused on the small elfling lying on the cot beside him. He uneasily monitored the elfling’s chest and the shallow breaths that barely moved it. Occasionally he would bend his face to the elfling’s nose to convince himself that he still lived. So caught up was he in his nervousness that he missed the fluttering of the elfling’s eyes as he gained awareness for the first time since his rescue.

“Ada?” The weak question came out as a croak from a voice long unused.

Erestor, now alert, awkwardly patted the small hand and smiled cautiously as the elfling turned his gaze towards him. The frail face frowned at him and Erestor could see his confusion.

“You are not my ada. Where is my ada?” whispered the bewildered elfling who immediately tried to rise from the bed.

Erestor bent low restraining the elfling while attempting to calm him.

“Hush child. Shh, shh, all is well. You are safe.”

The small elfling thrashed weakly and finally clung to Erestor. He cringed slightly when the elfling’s moist nose left a shining trail on his newly laundered robe. Finally he crawled into Erestor’s lap, frantically grabbed him, and started to hum tunes that were familiar and unfamiliar. For several hours they stayed this way. When he turned quiet Erestor thought him asleep until in a hushed whisper he once again spoke.

“You are too big to be my ada.”

Erestor smiled. He wanted to make sure the young one continued to speak as they had little information on his identity or his family.

“Have you never met one born in the First Age?”

The small head shook on his shoulder.

Eager to encourage the elfling’s attempts at communication he launched into a description of First Age elves.

“Ilúvatar, in His great wisdom, created us originally as tall creatures. I know not why but here in Imladris you will meet many of us from that time and you will know us well for we stand a good head above those born later. Still, there are always some who are gifted with height no matter what Age. Mayhap you will be tall, pen dithen…” He stopped himself on the edge of a panicked babble, trying to find words to fill the void.

His apprehension was for naught, however, as the elfling was no longer paying attention to his ramblings but lay singing an unknown song quietly under his breath. He did continue to cautiously peer at Erestor until slowly his eyes shut and he drifted once more to slumber.

Erestor sighed and looked around for someone to relieve him of this duty. There was no one. The healers were still attending to the more seriously injured and those, like him, had their own charges. So he sat, nervously wringing his hands and waited for the elfling to awaken again.

~oOo~

Erestor felt a mad chuckle rising from his chest and fought to squelch its eruption. He attempted to appear contrite and repentant as Elrond physically escorted him from the meeting room. He knew his mistake and he cared not. It was merely a jest at the expense of the simpering elfling. Erestor scowled as he thought on the brat! But the glower quickly left his face when Elrond, having loudly shut the office door, turned and unleashed his fury upon him. He admonished him in such a loud voice that Erestor’s face burned, not from the shame of speaking poorly of the child, but that every elf must surely be hearing the tirade within. Elrond berated him for his lack of feelings and irresponsible priorities.

“What is more important than our children?” Elrond had asked. And Erestor, in his most professional manner, spent the next five minutes reciting a long list of situations and things and ideas more important than bratlings. He knew he was angering Elrond with his answers but he was reckless and irate. His life was taken over and he had no choice! He needed away from the elfling and only Elrond could grant him release.

When he finished, Elrond let loose his exasperated rage for what seemed hours and flayed the skin from Erestor’s being with perfectly targeted dagger-like words. And when his anger finally burned itself out, Elrond simply walked from the room while issuing his nonnegotiable orders on the subject.

“You WILL make this work, Erestor! Your attitude is appalling and disgraceful and as my chief counselor I expect more from you! Find a way to make this situation tolerable immediately!”

Erestor bolted from the room stiff-necked and taut with anger. He headed for the woods. The unfairness of it boiled his blood. Elrond had made his situation permanent! He was saddled with this leech of an elfling who was slowly siphoning the life from him! Even his bastion of solitude, his private quarters, had been invaded as he was forced to clear one of the rooms for this nuisance.

He never wanted children. Ellith held no interest for him! This was not part of his scheme, for he had hatched a plan decades ago. A long laid and carefully orchestrated project to court Glorfindel. For years he had worked on befriending Glorfindel making himself an integral part of his existence.

Their friendship was his life’s masterpiece, carefully blended colors with the right amount of contrast to keep the interest alive and intriguing. Glorfindel, he found, was the only elf who seemed to like him, really like him, who understood his moods and quirks and knew everything about him. Now it was for naught! His chance was lost, his plan unfinished and involuntarily abandoned.

His days were now spent catering to a sulky elfling who said nothing and hid behind Erestor’s robes. He would not speak. He would barely walk. Sleeping was near impossible because of the continuous whimpering the child emitted at night. The screeching set his nerves on edge. There was no pattern to the nightmares, and when the screaming began, Erestor would be taken unawares, bolting from his bed and reaching for his knife each time. But each time, it was not a knife that was necessary to slay this beast. It was holding and rocking and soothing. Erestor was not made for cuddling children. He was an advisor and had skillfully risen to the highest level in Imladris as chief counselor to Lord Elrond. His time was precious and not for coddling brats!

Erestor ran hard. The sound of his harsh breathing filled his ears. He could not yet face the simpering child who was waiting for him. Until today, the elfling had not spent one moment away from Erestor since the day he woke in the healing wing, two months ago. And when Erestor had insisted he be kept with an attendant so he could return to work unfettered, the elfling had cried out, reached for him, and strained against the arms of the attendant, with wide-open pleading blue eyes that begged Erestor to stay. He had not tarried but, like now, fled.

Frustrated, he punched at tree limbs in his path. Recklessly he darted through the trees avoiding impact only at the last moment. Erestor let loose a great roar and cackled even louder as small animals scurried up trunks and several deer flashed through his peripheral vision, flushed from their foraging by his madness. He smiled gleefully with each sound of his robe being torn as it was snagged by branches. What did it matter? He was free of the elfling for the first time in months - the whimpering mewling hunk of flesh that had attached to him from the time he awakened in the healing wing - the cipher that clung to him day and night; saying nothing, being nothing.

Breathing heavily, he slowed his pace. It was long since he roamed this far from the Homely House, but he knew he was headed to a familiar favorite site. He could smell the water and feel the tendrils of moisture caressing his skin. This was a place he had visited frequently when first he arrived in the valley and was sick for his home near the sea.

As he neared the small pond, he increased his stride, suddenly longing for a dip in the cool water to rid himself of the sweat from his run. Instead his foot caught on an exposed root and he went down hard. Twisting, he turned himself at the last moment and with a grunt landed flat on his back. Stars swirled before his eyes. As he lay gasping for air, the sounds of hushed voices wafted through his perception. He stilled, for some unknown reason afraid of discovery, and lay quietly as the voices came ever closer.

Erestor slowly turned over, parted the brush with his hands and peered through. The sight before him confirmed his suspicions that the Valar were a cruel lot who recently took immense pleasure in striking out at him. Here, far away from their home, was Glorfindel, suave, and well spoken, never awkward or ungainly. On his arm he gracefully led the lovely Lady Amlugeth through the undergrowth around the pool. Fierce, bitter, irrational jealousy snarled through him as she stared adoringly into Glorfindel’s eyes. He spoke unknown words and she giggled perfectly in response. Amlugeth blushed at all the correct moments. She was consistently demure and she was bold when necessary and she knew exactly when to add her own thoughts to a conversation.

Erestor was quite sure he hated her. She was his competition for Glorfindel’s attention. He knew it and she knew it but Glorfindel appeared clueless of this struggle. And now, he, with the elfling taking up all his time, was unable to stay her hand! He was defeated without his consent. Niggling thoughts reminded him that Glorfindel had never shown interest in him or in any other ellon, other than friendship. Nay, Glorfindel’s preference for elleth appeared clear for he was known to wax poetically on the finer points of the female figure.

Yet, Erestor was not familiar with disappointment or defeat. His life, up until the last two months had been charmed. He was blessed with a loving family and a keen mind and his ongoing happiness seemed assured. Now unfamiliar feelings plagued him. This empty ache that gnawed at his insides was new and unwanted and he failed to understand how he could be so hollow when he had never had Glorfindel to begin with? Anger ran through his veins, adding harsh acid to his thoughts and his stomach churned constantly. Each morning, upon seeing the elfling, he found he loathed him with such ferocity that he occasionally wished the child had not survived the flooding of the valley. But then his resentment would fade a bit and his emotions would circle back. The next few weeks he would feel guilty about those unforgivable thoughts and a semblance of empathy would work its way back into his heart. He would chastise himself a thousand fold for lamenting those things he did not have when he had been blessed by so much already. Until, for some unknown reason, the caustic thoughts would resurface and the circle continued unbroken.

When Erestor could not abide the sound of one more perfect giggle he quietly admitted defeat, stood and left. In a moment of dispiriting clarity his course in life was finally made clear. Glorfindel needed him for nothing more than friendship. There was only one elf that needed his love and he had abandoned him at the first opportunity. He would find a way to thaw his icy contempt for the elfling, for if they were to be thrown together, this would be the only way for each to survive. Erestor knew. Nay, had always known that he was the catalyst for the elfling’s survival and well-being. And as he trudged back home he decided it was time to stop fighting this knowledge and help the child turn from despair to life.

Upon arrival back at the Homely House, Erestor made his way swiftly to his rooms careful to avoid any elf. Quickly he changed his clothing and dealt with his mess of hair. Unfortunately the bruises on his hands would not be hidden nor would the various scratches left by his charge through the trees.

Finally prepared, he left to retrieve his elfling. The attendant immediately answered his knock, and he noted her sigh of relief as he entered.

“Is all well, Vaeluth?”

“Nay, Counselor, he has not moved all day. Come.”

She led him into the playroom. There he lay curled into a tight ball with his head bent down to his chest and his knees tucked up so far they touched his head. There were no signs of tears being shed, just eyes staring into the distance while lips silently formed the words of an unknown song. Dejection and distress radiated from him.

Erestor’s heart ached at the sight. Mere hours were they separated and the elfling had reverted back to when they first met. He knelt close to him, gently touched his back and held out his hand.

“Come, child. It is time for us to return to our rooms.”

His voice startled the elfling who sat up immediately, scampered to his feet and threw himself into Erestor’s arms. His grip was tight and he clung fiercely. Still Erestor in turn put his arms around his charge and gathered him even closer.

“You should not have feared. I shall not leave you. Ever.”

Standing, Erestor gave a nod of thanks to Vaeluth and returned to their rooms. When they arrived he coaxed the elfling to sit next to him on the couch. It was time to press him into speaking and to obtain his name for he plainly needed some semblance of his own identity.

“You have a name, pen dithen. Can you remember it?” Erestor was firm in his approach but held the elfling close as he searched for answers. He had uttered a word here and there so Erestor knew he was capable of speech. It was time to draw him out.

Appearing to contemplate the question, his face scrunched into a hard look of consideration while one small finger wound a piece of hair, over and over. The finger never stopped its work. Round and round until the lock of hair was tight upon the finger, and the only portion of his finger visible was red and swollen. Then he would yank his finger out leaving a tight curl. Again and again the action continued but he uttered not one word. Finally, the elfling peered up at him dejectedly and shrugged his little shoulders; the finger never ceasing its work on his hair.

Pulling him even closer, Erestor took both of his hands and clasped them tightly giving the elfling no quarter but to stare at him.

“You must try again. Remember. Your parents picked a special name for you. Think hard now. What is your name?”

At the mention of his parents he stiffened noticeably but appeared to consider Erestor’s words carefully. Before long he was sputtering his first syllables in weeks.

“Li—,” came the stuttering reply.

“Li—,” he seemed confused and kept uttering this one syllable again and again.

Interrupting him, Erestor questioned further, “Li, pen dithen? Surely there is more?”

He peered up into Erestor’s face and shook his head no.

“Think hard. Your ada and nana thought long before naming you and it meant something unique for you alone. Where you born on a warm night perhaps? Was it cold? They may have named you after a special celestial event? ”

Erestor bent down to the elfling, eye to eye, and smiled warmly.

“Our names are precious, pen dithen. They hold power and describe something about us. What is yours? Please think well on this. I know you can recall it if you but try harder.”

A look of unyielding concentration came upon the elfling and his right eye squinted a bit. Erestor gently rubbed his hands providing what encouragement he could. Deliberation turned to pure delight suddenly lighting up his entire being

Quietly he answered, “My name is Little --.”

Momentarily shocked at hearing him speak his first sentence, Erestor could only ask, “Little?”

“Yes,” hesitantly he added, “Little Erestor.” Little Erestor looked questioningly into Erestor’s face.

Stunned failed to describe how Erestor felt at this pronouncement.

Stuttering for an appropriate response he said, “My name is Erestor so your name cannot…”

But Little Erestor interrupted him, “No, you are Big Erestor.”

“Pen dithen, each elf has their own special name and no one else shall have our same name even as generations pass to the next.” Even as Erestor spoke these words he recalled a similar conversation, in the recent past, he had with Thranduil.

“But how do you know someone else does not have your name?”

“Simply put, I am the keeper of names. Those who are about to become parents petition me with a list of suitable names for their child and I am able to guide them as I keep an ongoing roster.”

Erestor saw the suspicious look garner force on the elfling’s face.

Suddenly jumping to his feet Little Erestor cried out, “No! That is silly. There are too many elves! And anyway my name is Little Erestor. Your name is Big Erestor. We do not have the same name!” Little Erestor’s face was set in a stern frown.

Erestor blinked. Little Erestor’s outrage and demeanor again recalled his lost battle with King Thranduil over the name of his new son. But with Thranduil, he had acquiesced immediately once Lord Elrond secretly revealed to him the special relationship Thranduil once had with his son’s namesake. Although he did not understand Little Erestor’s insistence, he would once again, bow to the demand and for now share a name with his charge.

“Aye, pen dithen, aye, please calm down and come sit beside me again.” Erestor held out his hand and helped Little Erestor back up on the couch. “You shall be Little Erestor as of this moment.”

The tension between them broke and shyly, head down, Little Erestor climbed into Erestor’s arms. Erestor stroked Little Erestor’s long hair which was dirty and tangled. Little Erestor had grimly fought him each and every time he had attempted to wash the elfling. He feared water and seemed to believe that any droplet which touched him would send him to his doom. So for now, Erestor oiled his hair and pulled it back into a braid. He dearly hoped none had noticed the ripe aroma which clung to the child.
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