No Home Here

Chapter Nineteen: Bed Rest and Wagers

Estel woke up slowly, his ears telling him that it was late evening. Crickets were buzzing outside the open window, and the fifteen-year-old could feel a cool draft coming from the outside.

His bed, however, was warm and soft, and even though the boy could tell that it was not his own, that didn’t stop him from wanting to stay in it for as long as physically possible.

He laid back with closed eyes, enjoying the peace of having no brothers, fathers, or anyone else remotely worried about him staying in bed. It took him a moment before his conscious mind digested what he had just realized.

‘No one around?’ Silver eyes flew wide open, and though Estel noted that his vision was no longer blurry, he didn’t pause to contemplate this welcome discovery.

Instead he swung his legs wearily over the side of the bed, scooting himself along on his back so that he slithered off the mattress and onto the floor. Estel paused for a moment to ascertain his strength and found it unsatisfactory: nowhere near to where it was when he was in full health.

However, the boy knew that if he wanted to make a break for his own room and the books that he had stashed under his bed there would be no better opportunity than now.

Usually when he was sick he was well guarded by one of his family members until he recovered fully. But now there was no sign of the elven lord or his sons, and the young man was fully prepared to pounce upon the opportunity that presented itself.

He slowly rose to his feet and took a tentative step before instantly yanking his foot back up again. Frowning, he found that the entirety of his right foot was swathed in white bandages.

‘Trust Ada to play up a little cut.’ He thought to himself as he started on his trek across the room. He made a thumping noise every other step, and figured that someone had put a piece of something solid in the midst of the mountain of bandages, perhaps to protect it even further.

He got to the door and paused, poking his head warily out of the open doorway. The hall was reassuringly devoid of life, and Estel worked up the confidence to step out.

He waited for a moment, half-expecting someone to leap out of the woodworks of the house and wrestle him back into bed. But no one made their presence know, and the young man sighed in relief. He put his weight on his right foot, stepped with his left, and found himself face to face with a very irritated elf maiden.

Light brown hair hung down her back in a neat braid, and blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. Estel sighed as he recognized one of his father’s junior healers.

“Estel Elrondion!” She exclaimed, waving her hands about for emphasis. “Just what do you think you are doing out of that bed? You can’t be left alone for a moment without attempting to escape!”

Her rampage continued, and Estel reluctantly allowed himself to be herded back into the room. The maiden shut the open window with a snap, tugged on the bedclothes until they lay semi-straight, and made shooing motions with her hands.

“But Elinae!” He protested weakly. He was stopped from any further speech, however, when the irritated elf grabbed him under the arms, lifted him up off the floor, and deposited him on the bed. Estel squeaked at the undignified treatment, but grudgingly held still as Elinae pulled the covers over him and tucked the edges under the mattress.

“Now listen carefully little master.” She berated him with hands on hips. “Your father and brother are seeing the guests off, and you will not move one muscle until they return and I am no longer responsible for keeping you in bed! Do you understand me?”

The boy nodded reluctantly, and the healer settled down in a chair by the window. He found it hard to get any sleep when he knew that she was scrutinizing him, but he feigned ignorance and turned over. Estel steadied his breathing and lay still, hoping that she would eventually leave.

After what seemed like an eternity, light footsteps were heard in the hallway and Elinae tiptoed her way out the door. When the wooden panel shut behind the elf, the young boy could hear his father’s voice along with that of the younger healer.

“Any change?” The elf lord asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Well, he has woken, her nin.” The she-elf could be heard saying. “And I am under the distinct impression that he is practically back to normal.” Estel chuckled: he could almost hear Lord Elrond’s look of confusion.

“Aye, he has already tried to escape once.” The maiden confirmed. A light laugh found its way to Estel’s ears, and the door to his room opened up the slightest crack.

His father’s face appeared in the slight opening, and though he no longer looked as stressed as he had last time the young man had seen him, the elf still had a worry-crease between his eyes. Estel consciously altered his breathing once more to match that of his usual sleeping breaths.

The elf-lord looked on for a moment before sighing and closing the door softly. He talked to Elinae in hushed tones for a moment, and then all was quiet for a short while.

Estel unconsciously lulled himself so sleep, and didn’t even notice when the healer slipped back into his room a while later with his books. The reading material was left on his bedside table within arm’s reach, and the elf smiled and smoothed the boy’s curls before leaving once more.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Elladan stormed his way inside the house, letting the great oaken door slam behind him. He had had to stand politely and watch the lying imbeciles ride off, smiling and waving like the courteous son of the house that he was.

Elrohir had been tense beside him, and he knew that his brother was as unhappy as he was. But deep down Elladan couldn’t bring it upon himself to parcel off all the blame on others, even the infuriating twin boys.

Granted, the two were certainly not innocent. But, as much as the oldest twin hated to admit it, much of the fault of this incident lay on his brother and himself.

He sighed in frustration as he thumped down the hallway, normally silent footsteps echoing loudly on the floor. He heard the front door open again and his father’s stern voice called out to him.

“Elladan! My study! Now!” The elf lord’s tone was so stern that his eldest so flinched and turned slowly around, only to find that his father was no longer there. A meek looking Elrohir peeked in from behind the door, looking both ways before squeezing into the hall.

“Ada’s furious.” He stated calmly. Elladan winced as he walked back to join his brother.

“At us?” He asked quietly, pausing a moment while his brother eased the large door back shut.

“Too soon to tell, if you ask me.” The younger twin said flatly. “But all signs point to a major lecture, at the very least.” Here he abruptly stopped walking and faced his twin.

“But I really can’t say that I blame him. I feel so horrible, all Ada really needs to do is stand there and listen to me berating myself!” Elladan nodded in sympathy, and the elves made the rest of the short journey to their father’s study in silence, completely lost in his their own thoughts.

When they reached the room, however, Elrond was not there. They seated themselves and waited for several long, agonizing minutes before the door opened once more and their father swept into the room.

At first the elf simply stood there and looked at his twin sons, not saying anything and letting them see just how displeased he was with them. Finally he sighed and walked around to the far side of his desk.

He poured himself a glass of water, offering the pitcher to both of his sons who refused it in turn. After another long wait he finally spoke.

“I think that both of you know how much I am disappointed in you.” He said in a quiet, even voice. “I understand that you were lied to, but you should have at least listened to your brother when he told you that he didn’t commit the offense!”

At these words Elladan visibly paled, and Elrohir bit his tongue so hard that he made a small “oomph” of pain. Elrond scowled deeply and sat up in his chair, obviously waiting for one of his sons to speak.

“I’m afraid… well, I’m afraid that Estel never had the chance to defend himself, Ada.” Elladan stated softly, eyes on his boots. “I don’t even remember telling him what he was accused of.” He sighed. Elrond, however, stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back so hard that it made a screeching noise as it grated across the floor.

“You mean to tell me that you dragged Estel home with a bad cold, high fever, in the snow, and giving him the cold shoulder without even telling your brother what you were blaming him for?” He exclaimed, voice rising slightly with each word he uttered.

“And to top it all off you yelled at him last night for not telling you?” The enraged elf’s voice echoed in the small room, and as he was winding up for another furious statement, the door to the room opened. Glorfinel entered the study with an air of authority about him.

“Boys,” he said quietly to the twins. “Why don’t you leave now? I’m sure that your father will have a discussion with you later once he has calmed down.” The elven brothers jumped up and hurried out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.

Elrond, for his part, glared at his blonde advisor with all the malice he could muster up.

“What was that for?” He demanded, trying desperately to salvage what was left of his calm façade.

“That,” said the blonde elf, “was because you had completely lost your temper and were about to explode on the twins. I didn’t want you doing anything now that you might regret later.” He explained calmly.

“I doubt I would have regretted anything that I would have done to them right about now.” Muttered Elrond, grudgingly accepting Glorfindel’s logic. The older elf smiled and walked around the desk so that he stood beside Elrond, who stood up to be on the same level as his friend.

“Now, wait a while before talking to the twins. By then they will have beaten themselves up sufficiently and saved you the effort. Yes,” he smiled, seeing the slightly shocked look on Elrond’s face, “don’t think that they aren’t feeling guilty enough as it is. You surely will not help that any.” Elrond sighed, and then nodded, efficiently closing the matter.

“Now,” continued the blonde elf, “we have another small matter to discuss.” He smiled broadly, striking fear into the dark-haired elf’s heart. “The small matter of a wager that you placed yesterday must be settled now that your sons are home.” Elrond sputtered like a boiling kettle.

“Wager?” He exclaimed. “I do not make bets, especially, as you are implying, on my own sons!” Glorfindel’s smile grew broader, if that were possible.

“Ah, but I have it in writing here,” he drew out a yellowed sheet of parchment, “ that you bet on Estel’s horse being the first to collapse once the group reached Rivendell!” At this Elrond paled visibly and grabbed the sheet from his friend’s hand.

“I never!” He exclaimed, but soon quieted when he saw his own signature and date next to the wager. “Wha…. How on Arda did you get me to sign this?” He shouted. The grin on Glorfindel’s face did not once flicker, and he simply jabbed a finger at the parchment.

“And that isn’t the best of it, either!” He stated. “Read on and see what the stakes were!” Elrond’s eyes practically bugged out of his head when he saw Glorfindel’s neat script.

“A week’s kitchen duty?” He exclaimed. At that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Don’t worry!” Glorfindel called after him. “You won’t be the only one there, Figwitt can keep you company!” And the blonde elf burst into laughter that echoed throughout the Last Homely House, assuaging the tension of those who dwelt there and easing the minds of the inhabitants.