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rivendell injury prompts

TITLE: Blood, Chapter 4: Elrond
ARAGORNANGST PROMPT #80: Guilty (500 words)
AUTHOR: Marethiel/ThinkingLady
RATING: K
CHARACTERS: Aragorn, Elrond
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em, drat it. Many thanks to Professor Tolkien for creating these wonderful souls to populate my imagination.

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At your door, I observe you painfully struggle to force your injured leg to do more than it can at this moment. You are a healer; you know that you cannot force flesh, bone and sinew to work before they are ready. In my position, you would have chided your patient, counseled patience.

But I am both your healer and your father. I know you very well. I know it is more than impatience that drives you.

“Estel, the leg is not responding because the nerves have not yet healed. You know this,” I say calmly as I walk in. You sink back into your overstuffed chair, slapping its arm in frustration. “Why should your body be any different than any other Dúnadan’s on the mend?”

“It’s taking too long!” you growl. Your lips form an angry line and you will not meet my eyes. Patiently, I wait. You have been glowering and growling and snapping at everyone all day, and it is only a matter of time before one of us manages to anger you enough to lash out at us with what is truly bothering you.

“Nay, child,” I answer, with just the right amount of annoying parental condescension, “it is taking exactly as long as it supposed to.”

“It wasn’t ‘supposed to’ happen at all!” you thunder. “My people need their leader to be whole and healthy! And he is not! Why? Because he chose to play a fool! To forget his responsibilities! To put aside everything at stake! To play at … at… “ You sputter, frustrated, unable to put into words the shame that has tormented you these long weeks of recuperation.

“At being a human being who suffered an injury in a hunting accident,” I finish for him gently. “Who allowed himself to be a beloved brother and cherished friend, as in his youth.” I tilt my head as you breathe heavily, struggling to come to terms with what happened to you.

Finally, you sag in surrender, covering your eyes with a shaking hand. I gingerly perch on the arm of your chair and stroke your hair. I think for a moment, then I speak, softly, rubbing light, soothing circles on your back… they way I did when you were too old to take in my lap yet too young not to show soothing and love. “Estel, ion nîn… here, at this moment… with me… you need not be Chieftain of the Dúnedain. You need not be Isildur’s Heir. Here, you are Estel Elrondion. And you are free to show your frustration and anger in any way that comforts you.”

I watch the fragile balance tip… You draw in a great shuddering breath, and I deliberately weight those scales in favor of a loving father who knows his child. I lean forward, kissing your head.

A strangled sob chokes from your throat and you turn blindly toward me, and allow me to gather you, sobbing as if your heart will break, into my arms.

- to be continued

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