INNOCENCE
by Soledad
Disclaimer:
The characters, the context and the main plot belong to Professor
Tolkien, whom I greatly admire. I'm only trying to fill in the
gaps he so graciously left for us, fanfic writers, to have some
fun. Only Erestor's family belongs to me.
Rating: PG for this chapter.
Please read Warnings before the Prologue.
Author's notes:
Time: 532, 3rd Age
Follows immediately Chapter 2. Lindir has to say farewell to the
only father he knows. You heard it. Father. Not someting
else. No way.
And no, I have no idea why Saruman wanted to meet Radagast. But let's hope I'll figue it out later. This baby is planned to go as far as 30 chapters, after all (not to mention the Prologue and the Epilogue), so we have plenty of time.
Chapter 3: Abandoned
Lindir of Rhosgobel sat in quiet awe with Arwen, Elrond's daughter on a cut-in stone bench, still warm from the last rays of the setting Sun, his long, graceful legs streched straight out before him, looking around the stacked terraces climbing up the cliff-side, admiring the ethereal beauty of the pearly white and pale gold stone buildings with their tall and narrow, arched windows, and listening to the musical sound of the many waterfalls. He had never seen a place quite like this.
Arwen watched him from the side with fond interest. Although she preferred the Golden Wood of Lothlórien herself, just like her mother (they were very much alike in spirit, though Arwen inherited her fater's dark hair and noble features), she always found it intriguing to watch the amazed reactions of those who had seen her home for the first time. It made her proud of Imladris, the great accomplishment of her father.
Elrond had left Gil-galad's court in Lindon after the fall of Eregion and the horrible death of Celebrimbor's people, the greatest of all Elven-smiths ever, save Fëanor himself. He wanted to build a safe haven against the darkness of the world in the recently-discovered, deep valley of Imladris, to save the lore and ancient wisdom of the Firstborn for the later times - and to raise in peace the child he had rescued from the smoldering ruins of Celebrimbor's city.
Erestor was not the only orphant brought here, but all the others had at least someone of their kindred who came to Imladris and took care of them. Erestor had no-one, aside of Elrond himself; his unfailing loyalty towards the Lord of the Valley being the only thing to fill the aching holes of his heart.
Arwen often discussed with her mother the possibility that Erestor might have felt abandoned when Elrond finally fell in love, married and had children of his own, though the young seneschal guarded his heart too carefully to allow them a look into its tormented depths. Still, sometimes Arwen thought that Imladris was much more of a home for Erestor than for herself.
For Erestor had naught else.
No other home.
No other family.
No other purpose.
/It has to be a very lonely existence/, Arwen mused, watching the soft, delicate face of the youngling beside her, guessing how old he could be. He looked very young, but appearances could be deceiving by an Elf between physical and legal maturity, and the air of child-like innocence upon him made it even more difficult to guess his true age.
Arwen never met any one like him, and she wished for a chance to know him better, for he intrigued her on many different levels: his beauty, his quiet manner (he had not uttered a single word since they came up here to enjoy the magnificent view), his shyness and the inner light that seemed to radiate from him, without him being even aware of it.
In a way he reminded her of ancient Glorfindel - which was a mystery in itself, even though she knew that when Glorfindel was sent back to Middle-earth from Mandos' Halls, the lost innocence of the Firstborn who awoke at the waters of Cuiviénien had been restored in his heart. Yet this young elfling looked as someone who had never lost that innocence...
She could not follow this intriguing path of thoughts, for she felt the calling of her mother in her mind - a treat only the two of them were able to share in the whole family. She knew her parents could exchange thoughts and feelings without spoken words by simply touching hands, but only she could feel the thoughts of Celebrían without physical contact and even over considerable distances.
She rose fromt he stone bench with the natural grace of her fair kin and extended a hand towards the boy.
''Come'', she said, ''we have to return to the house. We are wanted by our Elders.''
Lindir accepted both the unspoken message and the proffered hand shyly, and so they returned to the house, without any further word.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Celebrían smiled involuntarily when she saw them enter the upper library, holding hands like small children. Arwen was very good with people - a talent she inherited from her father, as Celebrían preferred to stay in the background, watch quietly and share her insights with Elrond in private. Most of the time, anyway, though there were exceptions.
Elrond gave the young Elf a thorough look and understood at once why Radagast wanted him well-protected. Due to his unique upbringing, Lindir of Rhosgobel was totally unaware of evil things - or evil intentions - all around the Earth, therefore he most certainly was not able to defend himself. And his exquisite beauty and his innocence would be too much a temptation for many, even those who were not necessarily evil.
There was such a thing as wrongs born of weakness, as Elrond very well knew. Such one had turned their last victory over the darkness into a defeat.
Aye, they had to protect this child - and also cheerish this rare gift the wizard gave them in trust. Celebrían was right saying that he was to be shielded from greedy eyes - and he most definitely needed a thorough education in the things of daily life among his own kin. Erestor, master of the daily routine in the valley, would provide it.
/And mayhap it would do equally good for Erestor himself to have some company/, he thought, admiring his wife's insight once more. /If he will be able to open up a little, that is./
He turned to the youngling who still clutched desperately Arwen's hand, as if he hoped for protection from her side, and smiled encouraging at him.
''Welcome to Imladris, Lindir of Rhosgobel. I understand that my daughter has shown you the best watching spot in the valley. Did you enjoy the view?''
Lindir nodded wordlessly, wide eyes still full of fearful anticipation. He clearly felt that something unpleasant was about to happen. Elrond glanced at Radagast to see if the wizard wanted to break the hard news to the boy himself, but the old man looked guiltily aside.
Elrond surpressed a sigh. He hated to be the messenger of ill tidings, but he child had to be told about the decision that would change his whole life, and Aiwendil obviously could not bring it upon his heart to tell him of it. For one of the Wise, the wizard seemed to be fully enthralled by the youngling. In a good way, for sure, but his feelings still did cloud his judgement.
''Lindir'', the Lord of the Valley said as gently as he could manage, ''mayhap you have already heard that Master Aiwendil shall have important tasks to perform, soon.''
The boy nodded, his eyes lingering upon the guilty face of the old man; in his eyes clearly shone his love for the wizard who had been the only father he had ever known.
''Alas, these labours of his are such that you cannot go with him this time'', Elrond continued, searching carefully for the right words. ''So he asked the Lady Celebrían and me to take care of you for a while. You shall stay here, with us, until he is done with his tasks and comes back for you.''
Lindir let go of Arwen's hand, took a step backwards and shook his head in wordless despair, his eyes like those of a wounded dear. The anguish on that vulnerable face almost broke all their hearts.
Radagast gathered his inner strength (which was considerable, unless it came to his young charge) and took the trembling boy in his big arms.
''It has to be, little one'', he murmured, voice breaking alongside his old heart as the child all but burrowed himself into the rough folds of his heavy brown robe. ''I cannot protect you there where I have to go. But you shall be safe in the care of the Lord and the Lady, and this would comfort me in my grief.''
He held the boy at arm's length and looked at his crumpled face with gentle sadness.
''Lindir, listen to me. I have to leave, and I have to go now. 'Tis not a thing I can change. But I only shall have peace on my long and tiresome journey when I know that you are safe. Do you understand?''
The youngling nodded, swallowing his tears.
He would not cry before the eyes of all these strangers.
Not yet.
Not now.
''I shall come back to see you as soon and as often as I can'', the wizard continued, ''but I cannot say yet how soon or how often it would be. For I have difficult tasks before me that might be dangerous. I know not. But from now on, Imladris is your home, for an amount of time. 'Tis for your own good, child. Here you shall learn the ways of your own people and many, many other things...''
Lindir gave no answer. He only looked at the old man, the only family he had ever known, with heart-wrenching sadness. Radagast sighed.
''Believe me, 'tis not easy for me either. But I need to know that you are safe. Do you promise me to stay here and follow the teachings of the Lord and the Lady and all the people they see fit to tutor you? Will you be obedient and wait here until I can come back for you?''
Lindir nodded mutely, his young heart visibly breaking before their eyes. He threw his slender arms around the wizard's neck in a desperate hug, rubbing his soft cheek against the coarse grey beard of the old man, his entire body shaking with surpressed sobs.
But no sound, not a single tear found its way to the outside. It was eerie. Elrond began to doubt the wisdom of their agreement, but it was too late to re-think it. The damage was already done.
''I am very proud of you, Lindir'', Radagast murmured softly, kissing the top of the golden head. ''So very proud, my dear child. We shall walk the forests together again one day. I promise.''
Lindir sighed, resting his face on the wizard's shoulder for a moment. Then he stepped back from his old mentor with a strangely blank face and gave one slight nod. Was it as promise or simple resignation, no-one could tell.
Not wanting to prolong the painful scene any further, Radagast took his leave from the Lord and the Lady of the Valley and Glorfindel escorted him back to the paved courtyard where Elladan and Elrohir were already waiting with his horse. The wizard mounted, looked up to the balcony one more time to wave his final farewell to the silently watching Lindir, then rode out of Imladris at great speed, without looking back.
Arwen escorted the youngling back to the upper library and urged him to take a seat, but Lindir refused with a shake of his head. Elrond sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than they had thought.
Reaching for Celebrían's hand for some much-needed moral
support, he turned to the boy again.
''It has been decided that you should be taught in ancient lore
by the Lord Glorfindel and myself.''
Lindir gave no reaction to that.
''Since it has been the wish of Master Aiwendil that you become an esquire, though, I have chosen a tutor for you who shall instruct you in the ways of our people and in the customs of the valley.''
Still no reaction.
''Erestor son of Hargil is not only my seneschal, he is also my foster son'', Elrond continued, ''who has come to my house very much like you. He has seen much, and he knows the life of the valley better than even the Lady or myself. It would do you good to follow his instructions.''
Lindir nodded, watching quietly the face of the one who will be the master of his life for an as-yet-unknown amount of time. Erestor was a young Elf, tall and dark-haired as the Noldor mostly were, and fair-faced as all Elves are. He looked friendly enough; but in his clear grey eyes there was much sadness and pain, and his forehead was marred with the paled scar of a vicious old injury.
''I shall prepare a room for you, near my own chambers so that you can find me every time when something bothers you'', he promised. ''Have you brought any baggage with you?''
Lindir nodded. Erestor withstand the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed he would have to do all the talking for quite some time. This was something he was not used to do.
And the exact reason why the Lady suggested him to become the boy's tutor.
''Well, then, let us go to the stables and collect your saddle bags'', he said with a sigh of slight impatience (and a lot of resignation), and walked out of the library.
Lindir followed him in wordless obedience.
Elrond looked at his wife in admiration.
''My Lady'', he said, ''are you sure that the wickedness of the
Galadhrim - who are a strange lot as I am told - had not infested
you in all those seasons you have spent among them? This was the
most ingenius plot I have ever witnessed to unfold - and it seems
to work just fine. Erestor looks already more alive than he has
been during the last hundred years.''
''He has a purpose now, one more personal than simply running our house'', answered Celebrían with a miscievous smile, ''and young Lindir will be quite a challenge, I deem. If he wants to achieve anything with the boy, Erestor shall have to come out of the shell he had built around himself.''
''Shall we help him?'', Arwen asked, her eyes equally sparkling. Celebrían shook her head.
''Nay, that would make Lindir feel crowded. Let them work it out for themselves; they have all the time in the world. And tell your brothers to stay away from the boy. The last thing we need is them frighten him out of his mind.''
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
About two hours later, when he finally completed his daily tasks and was ready to retire for a well-deserved rest, Erestor made an added turn on his way from the Lord's study to his own chambers, in order to check on his young charge. He truly felt for the boy who had been torn away from his life, his home, his only family and given in the hands of complete strangers.
If any one, Erestor surely knew the feeling, in spite of Elrond's gentle and thorough care in his youth. He did find a new home in Imladris, but it did not mean that he ever stopped to miss the first one.
It did not stop the nightmares, either. Not then, not now, half an Age later. They would ever stay his most faithful company.
He had learnt to live with the loneliness. He had learnt to live with the nightmares. He had his vengeance, and he knew he would pick up his weapons again, should the need arise. But he had sworn never to have a family. Never to father any children, who could share his own fate one day. No child would go through the same hell because of him.
That was why he hesitated to accept the responsibility for young Lindir. The boy had already lost one whom he depended on. He did not want the boy to become fond of him. He had learnt how fragile life was, even that of Elves. He had seen it in the brutal massacre in Eregion and in the even more brutal battle upon Dagorlad. He did not want any one to grieve over him the same way he still grieved over his parents and siblings. Never.
He entered the large, airy room through one of the tall, arched window-entrances, opening to an inner garden. He was not surprised to see that the saddle-bags were unpacked, thrown carelessly to the stone-paved floor where they had put them down hours earlier. The beutifully-carved, square bed was empty, its snow-white sheets untouched. Lindir was no-where to see.
Erestor sighed and tried to think clearly. Where could the boy be? He knew no-one in the valley, and the Lady Arwen, the only one he seemed to like, was with her mother. Yet the boy needed a friend in his grief. That left only one opportunity.
Erestor left the bedchamber of his charge again and went straight to the stables. The boy might not know where exactly his own trusted steed was put, but he knew the beasts well enough to find one in particular. Especially one that belonged to him.
He entered the gate leading to the stables' area, crossing the paddock that was now empty, the horses being brought indoors for the still chilly night and walked around the boxes where the magnificent horses of Elrond's household stood. Though he had known almost all of them since the day of their birth, he paused for a moment, enraptured by their beauty himself.
He stopped by his own steed, a beautiful white one, whispering softly to it, and the horse listened, ears flicking forward, gently nudging his face with its soft nose. Erestor hugged the neck of the faithful beast and reasted his face for a moment on the soft mane. He knew the comfort of having such a friend, himself.
Quiet, sniffing noises remembered him why he was here. He patted the neck of the horse and took a look around. In one of the furthest boxes he finally found the smaller horse that had brought their young guest to Imladris shortly before sunset. The horse was resting on the ground, and a slim figure was laying on his side, face burrowed in the short, dark mane, narrow shoulders shaking with deep, almost soundless sobs.
Erestor sighed. It was to be expected. The boy had taken the departure of Aiwendil much too calmly. It was only a matter of time for him to break down.
The seneschal of Elrond's house sat down next to the sobbing youngster and gathered the lithe frame in his arms. Lindir did not resist. He went limp in the safety of his new mentor's embrace and let his tears flow freely.
Erestor waited patiently for him to calm down again. It took quite some time, but finally the boy's tears ceased flowing and he looked at the older Elf with reddened eyes. Reddened, but not swollen, in spite of having wept so long. It was strange.
''Feeling better?'', Erestor asked gently, wiping away the last tears with his fingers. Lindir nodded. ''Good. Then we might go back to the house and put you in bed for the night?''
Lindir nodded again and let himself be pulled to his feet. He followed Erestor obediently (after all he had promised Radagast to bee good), but in the door he paused and looked back at his horse - his only friend in this valley full of strangers - longingly.
''You can come to him again tomorrow'', Erestor promised. ''In fact, caring for the horses is one ofthe duties of an esquire. You shall see, we have some wondrous ones here.''
A ghost of a smile appeared for a moment on the reddened face of the youngling and Erestor smiled back, relieved.
''Your horse is a nice one, too'', he said. ''What's his name?''
Lindir sighed, tearing his gaze away from his faithful beast.''T-tinwë'', he answered.
This was the last word any one in the valley had heard from him for a long time.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
What, no footnotes this time?
No, ideed. I thought you guys deserve a break. <g>