The Littlest Warrior

Estel sat working determinedly at the desk made especially for him; his father had it commissioned the day the boy took his first classes from Master Erestor. Estel had previously been seated at an adult sized table, plump pillows propping him up so that he could comfortably use the surface. However, Estel was a bit of a ‘wiggler’ and had the habit of trying to get to things that were out of his reach. The result of his reaching was, that on more than one occasion, he tilted to the side and had fallen off the chair, landing quite hard on the stone floors. The first time was unexpected, resulting in several minutes of unabated crying, followed by the equally unexpected arrival of his father and both brothers; who ‘just happened’ to be passing by.

Erestor later got them to admit they had been pacing in the hallway the entire time the child was separated from them, ‘just in case he needed us’ they said. The second time Erestor caught him before he landed, but that was enough for his father to order a child-sized desk that very afternoon. On this morning however, there was no crying. Estel sat, quite contented, completely engrossed in his assignment; he was learning how to write his name.

“’Westor?”

“Yes meleth nín?” (my love)

“Iss dis right?” the boy questioned as he held his slate up for the counselor’s perusal.

Erestor suppressed a smile and turned and answered the little one. “The word is pronounced ‘IS’ meleth, ‘IS’, repeat it for me now,” he prompted.

“IS!” Estel said loudly.

“Very good meleth…now what was your question again?”

“Iss dis right?”

The counselor couldn’t help smiling, it seemed that as much as they tried to correct him, there were just certain words with which Estel was going to have problems. Erestor made a mental note that perhaps it would be better if they didn’t teach both Westron and Sindarin simultaneously; he would bring it up with Lord Elrond at dinner. Taking Estel’s slate in his hand, he examined the child’s work with a teacher’s critical eye.

“Very good Estel,” he exclaimed. “I can see that you have been practicing. Very neat.”

“Can I go and show it to Ada? I made it real neat this time ‘Westor…cause I know you like it neat. Can I show Ada?”

“Why do we not save it for later meleth…it is almost time for us to have our tea.”

“Why do you say our tea ‘Westor? I never have tea, I always hafta have milk…can I have tea this time ‘Westor?”

The counselor laughed at the unending stream of questions that always seemed to come from Estel. He’d commented more than once to Elrond that the child was a veritable walking fountain of questions, always bubbling, always overflowing.

“Perhaps…a little cup, but we will have to put some milk in it.”

Estel was quick to point out the flaw in this plan. “Aw ‘Westor, I want my tea like your tea…you don’ put milk in your tea.”

“No I do not meleth, that is very observant of you…but I think the tea will be a little too strong for you without it.”

“Ada lets me drink tea.”

The fast thinking tutor sidestepped Estel’s argument, quickly demonstrating why he was known as the best negotiator in Arda. “Yes, but that is only when you are ill, and it has medicine in it, you do not want to have medicine in your tea do you?”

Estel, bright child that he was, mounted his defense, and once again showed his teacher that he had indeed been paying attention…to everything Erestor did, particularly to the way he maneuvered his way around a conversation.

“But you drink tea and you don’ have medicine in it,” he said astutely.

Erestor’s eyebrow did a quick imitation of Elrond’s. He’d been outwitted by a three year old, and quite skillfully, he noted, 'Good boy,' he silently thought. His pride in Estel’s ability to think things through to a conclusion that benefited him, was evident in his eyes…and his answer.

“All right Melyanna…but just a small cup, and not too…”

“Can I have honey in it too?” Estel interrupted.

Erestor gave the child an assessing look and then responded contritely. “Methinks you have missed your calling meleth…mayhaps you should become a negotiator instead of a warrior,” he said with a quirk on his lips.

“Nope, gonna be a warrior,” Estel said shaking his head in the negative while swinging his legs freely under his chair. “Gonna be just like Glorfy and ‘Linwë. He thought for a moment more, and then quickly added, “an Dan an Roh too…of course.”

“Of course…Erestor repeated dryly. “Come little one, let us go and have our tea…before you negotiate me right out of my braies.”

“Huh? Why would I…‘gotiate your underpants ‘Westor? ’Westor whas ‘gotiate?”

“Never you mind, just come with me so I can keep my breeches where they belong.”

Estel giggled and took his teacher’s hand, looking up at the counselor he added "Westor you funny…I don’ wan you breeches…dey woo’nt fit. ‘Westor can I have a scone? Wit’ booberries? Can we feed the birdies wit the crumbs? Can we show Ada my words now?”

The ever-patient counselor just nodded, and said yes to everything as he led the king of unending questions towards the kitchen. 'Warrior? Hummp, indeed! The child is a born negotiator, anyone can see it,' the wise advisor thought. 'Better to capitulate now Imladris…a counselor is born this day'.