A Flame of Purpose

Summer, Imladris, 2941 TA

Lord Elrond was spreading raspberry jam on a slice of berry morning bread, “How goes the feasting preparations for the Eve tonight?” he asked as he looked across to Gilraen, who was not only naneth to Estel but also Chatelaine of Imladris, through Elrond’s good graces.  He knew she needed structure in her life beyond the care of her son, and she had flourished in her given role.

Gilraen took a sip of the chilled spiced mead, which was the drink of choice on pleasant summer mornings in Imladris, “Going well.  We will be making the rolls and sweetmeats today.”

Estel who sat at the table examining a rock that he had discovered in the riverbed the day before perked up, “Sweetmeats!  Today?”

His naneth gave him a stern look, “Yes…and we will be having much to do without inquisitive little fingers in every pot.”

“I could help!  I can chop things and … stir.”  Estel ventured.  He loved sweetmeats.  

Gilraen looked at Elrond meaningfully.  Elrond looked at his precocious foster son, “Don’t you have archery practice this morning?  Rannion says you have been making fine progress.”

Estel shined at the praise from his adar, “Well I did hit the black many times during the last training!”

“That is what he told me!  Practice is what creates perfection.”  Elrond looked at Gilraen as if to say, “That should do!”  Gilraen smiled her thanks but glancing at her rambunctious young son she hoped he was right. 

After breakfast Estel ran down the lane to the shooting range ready to impress Rannion with more of his skills, ever eager to please.  The sun was shining gently over the practice field and the archery master stood at the line inspecting the form of the younger elves. All far older than Estel but still young in Elvish terms.  Master Rannion spied Estel as the boy walked out of the archery stable with his gear set to shoot, “Young master Estel, on time as usual.  Toe the line and let us begin!” 

After a good training session of shooting, Master Rannion approached the boy, “I think you might be ready to shoot on the longer course tomorrow!”

Estel’s eyes glowed, “Do you think so?” he asked excitedly.

“I do!” Rannion affirmed, “I shall speak to Lord Elrond about your progress.  Is it not time for lessons with Lord Glorfindel?”  Estel looked up into the sky seeking the sun.

“Just about!”

“Well, you run along then, you do not want to be late.” Rannion encouraged, mindful of the edict from Lord Elrond that spoke to keeping the boy busy.  An idle Estel was a mischievous Estel.  The child’s recent misadventure on Lord Elrond’s own strawberry roan horse resulting in a broken arm and a brush with the sleeping sickness was still fresh in his adar’s mind.  Rannion had a rueful chuckle as he watched the boy scamper off to the archery stable to stow his shooting gear.  His attention then returned to the next group of archers ready to hone their skills and he did not see Estel as he took a route that was decidedly not in the direction of Glorfindel and his study.

Estel wandered purposefully past the kitchens of Imladris.  They were irresistible; the smells enticing.  Estel could not resist a visit even though his naneth had tried to dissuade him earlier while they breakfasted in the morning.  He peered through the curtain separating the kitchens from the rest of the main building.  He did not see his naneth and felt it was safe to venture forth. The smells of fruits boiling and honey rolls baking, he was in bliss.  He neared a boiling pot and then moved the lid gently with the pot cloth nearby.  He grabbed the nearest stirring stick and tentatively stuck it in the bubbling reddish goo. He blowed on it tentatively to cool it just a bit and then brought it to his mouth and began savoring the tart sweetness; it was heaven…for a few moments until a booming voice shattered his idyll. “Young Master Estel.  Your tasting talents are not necessary today.  We have far too much to do.”

Turning around he pasted on his best face.  “I was just inspecting to make sure all was going well.”  

“Try your charms elsewhere,” Hadrien said, but handed him one of the sweet rolls just out of the oven.  Her voice softened a bit, “Now be off with you before your naneth finds you in here today.”

Estel nodded and made his escape, the sweet bun in hand.  All around he saw industry.  All making Imladris ready for Midsummer’s Eve.  Many of the celebrations throughout the year were held in the Great Hall but Midsummer’s Eve was under the stars and amid the greenery of Imladris.  Flowers were strung along the riverbank, and wooden tables were set around the glade and would soon be laden with the feast that had been undergoing preparation for the last week.  He bit into his honey bun and sighed happily.  Life was good.  He lay in his favourite alcove on the riverbank of the Bruinen listening to the sound of the waterfall and gazing up into the sky letting the gentle warmth of the sun lull him into a drowsy sleep all remembrance of Glorfindel and lesson gone from his mind.  It was Midsummer’s Eve and all was well in Imladris.

“Did we wake you, Muindoreg nin!” called out a merry voice seemingly right next to his ear.

Estel started at the sound of his foster brother’s voice, “Elladan!  You are back!”  He sat up and looked into the star-filled eyes of one he held very dear.  

“Dan!  What were you thinking?  Clearly our little brother was very busy…napping!”  Estel looked to his other side and crouched near his shoulder was Elrohir, Elladan’s twin in body, spirit and the place he held in the mannish boy’s heart.  “Of course, we are back.  We would not miss Midsummer’s Eve.”

Moving out of the alcove and jumping up, Estel reached to give his brothers an encompassing hug.  They had been gone for weeks, and he missed them so dreadfully when they were out on patrols.  “Nana has been in the kitchens all week preparing for the feast.  I was in there earlier, but Hadrien said my particular skills were not needed today!”

Elladan smiled thinking of the “skills” that Estel had most assuredly been offering.  Most likely picking up lids and sampling various foods. “I suspect she was right,” giving Estel a knowing look.

“But it all smelled so good!” Estel exclaimed in his defense they settled into sitting positions on the riverbank.

“It is hard to resist temptation.”  Elrohir nodded sagely.  “Many a time I recall Elladan getting his hand slapped from too much sampling!” He chuckled.

“Oh, like you were any better!”  Elladan quipped.

“Me?” Elrohir feigned an innocent look, “I was the soul of restraint.”

“Uh-huh…. I seem to remember a tray of raspberry tartlets that went missing!”

Elrohir gave a distinct shudder at the memory, “Maethadis was not best pleased with that!”

“Not even your renowned charm could win her over.” Elladan added.

“What happened?” A very interested Estel questioned.  Elrohir could charm a squirrel into giving up his acorn.

Elrohir was reluctant to continue the tale, so Elladan began again with relish as his brother shot him a speaking look, which of course Elladan completely ignored.

“You do not know Maethadis.  She took ship for the West a few centuries ago,” He looked conspiratorially at Estel, “She was even more of a dragon than Hadrien.”  Estel’s eyes grew wide thinking of the matron of the Kitchens who wielded a swift spoon to little hands that were not quick enough to escape.  He had been lucky earlier, she had been in a good mood, and the result had been a honey bun and not a slap on the hand.  He had felt the sting often enough.  Elladan smiled as he saw he had achieved the proper emphasis for his tale.

“It was another Midsummer’s Eve and ‘Roh was just a little elfling and apparently the smells of the kitchens were just a little too much for him.  We had been told on numerous occasions that we were to give Maethadis and her kitchens a wide berth for a while.  Her husband of many centuries had taken ship for the West and she was finding the parting harder to bear than most.” Estel looked at Elrohir and saw a look of regret.  Elladan placed a commiserating hand on his brother’s shoulder, “We had not understood at the time.” He had felt his brother’s discomfiture, so bonded they were.  But in a mercurial shift of mood, he continued his story, “He stole into the kitchens–”

“Yes, well you were supposed to be keeping watch–” Elrohir interjected.

“I looked away for a moment or two!” Elladan countered.  He remembered it distinctly.  Their adar had spied where Elladan was standing and called him away for the explanation of his furtive positioning.  He had tried to give Elrohir the warning signal that they had arranged but Elrohir had not heard, so intent he was on his task of sweet-napping, “As I was saying…He saw a tray of raspberry tartlets lifted them and made for the entrance."   

At this point Elrohir took up the telling of the story, “Maethadis was entering at the same time with an empty mixing bowl in her hand…”

~*~*~*~*~

170 TA, Imladris

A voice from behind Elrohir made his blood run cold. “I specifically stated that you were to remain out of the kitchens.  Did I not?”  The last words were enunciated slowly and pointedly.

Elrohir turned around and saw his adar looking down at him with a barely leashed fury smoldering behind light blue eyes. “Apologise to Maethadis!” in that tone that brooked no debate.

Elrohir turned back to the Maven of the Kitchens and whispered contritely. “I am sorry Maethadis!  It won’t happen again.”  He looked into Maethadis’ eyes and found compassion but beyond a pain he did not understand.

“Come with me,” he heard his adar say. 

“Yes, sir.” Elrohir states in a monotone voice as he placed the forgotten tray of tartlets on the stone counter next to him.  He followed his adar to his study, dreading the coming conversation which would consist Elrond lecturing and Elrohir answering “Yes, sir.” with varying levels of contrition periodically.

“Enter and sit on the stool by my writing desk.” his adar said in a controlled voice.  Elrohir did as he was told, his eyes fixed on the ground awaiting his fate.  A rustle of silken robes signal that his adar was seated at his desk.  Elrohir heard an audible sigh then, “Elrohir, look up at me!” Elrond’s stern voice began.  The young elf lifted his eyes cautiously.  “I wish to speak to you not as a child but as an intelligent young elf.  Why did you feel the need to visit the Kitchens after I asked you not to and explained the reason why?  Answer after thinking about it.  I do not want a flippant answer. I am very disappointed with you.”

Elrohir opened his mouth and then shut it again. Disappointment.  That was worse than anger.  Shame washed over him. He never wanted to disappoint his adar.  After a few moments he lifted his eyes to his adar's face and ventured, “I just did not think and I wanted the tartlets.” He answered both truthfully and despondently, casting his eyes down again.

Elrond stated, “Thank you for telling me the truth.  I appreciate that.”  He lifted his son’s face with a finger and then grasped the small hands within his. His voice softened a little.  “I do not idly set limitations.  This was done because Maethadis needs our consideration and compassion at this time.  You wanted something and you put your desires in front of another’s regardless of the stricture.  That was a child’s decision, not a young elf nearing the coming of age.  You did disappoint me and more importantly yourself with your decision but I respected your honesty just now.  Charm will get you many things, my son.  But not all of those things are worth having.  Think about your actions and how they affect others.  Agreed?”  Elrohir agreed, relieved that it was not the doom he had feared.

~*~*~*~*~

“So you did not get punished?”  Estel asked hopefully.

“Oh no…I still was punished.”  Elrohir quickly corrected,  “Maethadis set me to washing the pots and pans…for an entire week!  And Adar did not stop her saying that if I could not learn to listen then I must ‘accept the consequences!’  he said in an imitation of Lord Elrond’s voice. 

“An admirable attempt, Ion nin!  But a little more sonorous, I think.” All three looked up and saw Lord Elrond standing right behind them with a mischievous smile on his face.  None had heard him approach. “But I think that the lesson took only partial root. You still don’t always listen.”

Elrohir opened his mouth to defend himself but closed it knowing the point to be well-made.  Elrond looked pointedly at Estel, “Are not you due in the study with Lord Glorfindel or has laying about with my two miscreant sons wiped that from your memory.”

Grey eyes wide with remembrance, “I forgot!”  He was up and off like a shot to the study followed by three pairs of amused eyes.

Lord Elrond turned back to Elladan and Elrohir, “So good it is to see you, my sons.  I am so pleased you are here for Midsummer’s Eve.  Let us retire to my study and you can tell me your tales before the festivities begin.”

~*~*~*~*~

Estel burst into the study and saw Lord Glorfindel bent over a scroll.  “I’m sorry I was late!”

Glorfindel looked up at first in consternation but then was moved by the genuine regret in his young charge’s earnest grey eyes.  “I suppose on Midsummer’s Eve one can be forgiven for lulling about in the sun.” He smiled and then grew pensive, “In fact, let us depart these confines and revel in nature for that is also part of your education.”  Estel’s eyes lit with excitement.  “Come!” The elven lord exclaimed.

They found themselves above Imladris on the banks of the Bruinen higher up. Estel looked all about him.  The river spilled across the uneven rocks creating small eddies and currents in the downward flow of the river.  As a result a mist fell lightly upon Estel’s face, which was refreshing in the light breeze.  The woods around the river grew high, lush and green cocooning the elf lord and the young boy within the wild beauty of the land.  Estel breathed in and felt alive.  He turned to say as much to Glorfindel but the serene, upturned face of his tutor, his eyes closed, stopped him.  Glorfindel opened his eyes and looked upon the small boy with eyes that spoke of joy and youth.  Estel stood rapt, normally his tutor’s face held a look of wisdom and if he were honest on occasion a little weariness, but not now.

Glorfindel laughed, “Is it not glorious this day of days, Estel?”

“Yes!”  His tutor’s joy was infectious.  Estel looked around.  The air seemed alive.

“Take off your boots,” Estel looked at his tutor quizzically, “Yes you heard right.  Take off your boots.”

Estel walked to a fallen tree to sit down and comply with the odd request.  Glorfindel did likewise. Leaving their boots at the log, Glorfindel took the boy’s hand and guided him to the riverbank.  Feet sank gently into the silt of the riverbank.  Glorfindel smiled. “Yes!  Now wiggle your toes and let them sink into the silt.  Do not worry, they will not sink far but let them sink.  Feel the earth between your toes.  Feel the connection between you and the earth.  It is strongest on this day.  On Midsummer’s Eve.”

Estel did as his tutor instructed and he did feel it.  He felt the earth surrounding him and he felt connected; to Glorfindel’s hand and to the earth that squished between his toes.  He felt as one with the land, unsure where he ended and the earth began; always protected.

“This land.”, Glorfindel whispered, breathing in and out deeply, “Let it seep into your soul.  Let the beauty of it, the joy of it, live in your heart.”  They stood for many moments.  Estel could sense something.  He listened long and could almost hear the wind through the trees as if they were using words just beyond his understanding.  Glorfindel knelt to look into Estel’s eyes equal in height. “This is what we protect; this is what we are.  And always will be.  Do you feel it?  Do you understand me?”

Estel looking into the eyes of his tutor, “Yes,” he whispered, lost in the star-filled depths.

Glorfindel nodded and smiled. He straightened.  “On Midsummer Eve the bond is rekindled and lasts in our hearts, always to be refilled once again.” he ended softly in a voice that touched the young boy’s soul.  The elf lord blinked, “Thus ends the lesson.” he said briskly and smiled. “Let us return.”

That night as Lord Elrond stood at the pyre laid for Midsummer’s Eve he held a burning torch.  “This night,” he intoned, “is for feasting and festival, is for joy and renewal.  This bonfire symbolizes the fire of life renewed!”  He lit the kindling at the base of the bonfire.  Estel watched mesmerized, as the kindling fire fed the bonfire logs consuming themselves as the logs in turn smoldered and then ignited.  As the bonfire flared to life Estel felt kindle within him a flame of purpose and love of this land.  The feeling of connection that had enthralled him on the riverbank blazed to life.  He looked at Glorfindel, whose face showed the same rapt light as if the bonfire flames were merely a reflection of his inner light.  The Elf Lord nodded to him and smiled back, and the boy’s life was forever changed.  He knew that somehow, he was born to protect this land with his life though how the path would reveal itself was a mystery to his young heart.