EP: Elrond, age 8

[starrydome]

The door opens and closes, as a young child slips through.

He is thin and pale, but his hair is clean and tightly braided and his clothes are carefully mended.

Every year the winter seems harsher than the year before, the Keep colder, the food more scarce.

When they are set to work, the tasks are bigger and more demanding, and - as his bruises attest - when they spar against the adults, they hold back far less.

It has been months since he last found himself here and as always he quickly looks around to see if anyone he knows is here as he makes his way to the Bar,slipping in and out of the dimly lit spots.

Hot tea. Bread. That's all he asks for, but the plate that shows up has slices of cheese and sausage, carrots, and a crisp apple.

He sits, looking at it - and then he blinks a couple of times before he slowly begins to eat.

Comments

[the_cupbearer]

"Hello, little one," greets a warm voice standing next to Elrond by the bar; he's not wearing anything nearly as lovely as Elrond's usual wear as an adult, only simple riding attire while he waits for what he ordered. But Ganymede has a gentle smile and he's comfortable around children.

"That looks like a very good lunch you have."

[starrydome]

Elrond looks up at him and nods.
Cautiously.

"Yes," he agrees. "There is little food at home right now. It's winter."

His gaze is bright. And curious.

Mostly because he cannot quite place the Man. He isn't even sure that he is a Mortal Man.

[the_cupbearer]

"Would you like something else to eat?" he asks, taking a seat as he's presented with a plate with many different things on it. "You can certainly have anything of mine you'd like. It's food from where I grew up."

He has aubergines with some sort of filling that smells like tomatoes and garlic, a crispy flatbread, and grape leaves stuffed with rice, fried zucchini fritters; there much of any one thing, but there are many choices, and Ganymede slides the plate over towards the child.

"What's your name?"

[starrydome]

The child looks over the selection. Some things are almost recognizable, though most are not.

People have been kind here, but he is still hesitant as he reaches for a stuffed grape leaf.

"This?" he asks before answering the question. "I'm Peredhel. They call me Elrond."

The name still elicits a small frown, but saying it comes easier now, than the first time he was here.

His hands are very clean, but they look rough.

He has an almost vanished bruise on his cheekbone and small cuts on his arms. The kind you get when you have to move through brambles instead of around.

[the_cupbearer]

"Those are called dolma, or dolmades," Ganymede answers, letting Elrond take as much from the plate as he likes. "They're grape leaves filled with rice and ground meat. You might like them," he chuckles, taking in the bruises and cuts on the child; it dims his smile a little as he brushes a fingertip over one of the scratches.

"Wouldyou like me to call you Elrond, or something else?"

[starrydome]

He hesitates.
Then he shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. Peredhel is not - it's not really a name. I don't care much for 'Elrond' but it is the closest to a name I've got."

[the_cupbearer]

"It matters to me," Ganymede replies. "I like to be called by a name that makes me happy, and I'd like to extend the same courtesy to you."

He offers a hand out. "I can clean those cuts on your arms too, if you'd like. Make sure they don't get infected."

[starrydome]

"Peredhel, then," the child says, decisively.

"And I think they're clean. They're just cuts from thorns."

He does hold his hands out for further inspection.

[the_cupbearer]

"Peredhel it is. You can call me Ben if you'd like," he offers, getting an alcohol wipe from the bar and carefully cleaning the small cuts.

"Why were you crawling in thorns?"

[starrydome]

He nods, wincing a little at the sting of the alcohol.

"Because there was a patch of moss in the middle. It's edible once you've boiled it," he answers. "You can dry it and grind it once it has been billed and use it in bread and porridge."

[the_cupbearer]

"...Did you decide to go after that yourself, or were you told to?" Ganymede asks, gentle with the cleaning swipes and the thumb he brushes along Elrond's cheek over that fading bruise.

"Are you safe where you live now, little one? You're bruised and cut, and you're very young to have both those things."

[starrydome]

The child looks at him. Calmly.

"It had to be me or my brother. The adults were too big. And I was the one who saw the moss."

So he was the one who had to fetch it.

He doesn't shy away from the touch exactly. But it seems to surprise him.

"Bruise? - oh. Yes. Sword practice. I didn't duck fast enough."

And got a smack with the flat side as a reminder to do better.

"We're at war."

In a better world, yes, he would have been too young.

[the_cupbearer]

"War is inevitable, in many ways," Ganymede replies, equally calm. He won't treat Elrond as if he's stupid for being young, but the boy does need to be treated with some care. "That is no excuse to treat children poorly, or cruelly. The people you live with, they're adults, yes? They should know better."

[starrydome]

"I think they believe they do what is necessary," the child says,diplomatically.

"And it is in honesty not too bad. It hurt a lot at first, but nothing was broken."

He looks briefly down at his plate and then back at Ganymede. Ben.

"Wishing it was different or wanting it to be different, will not make a difference."

[the_cupbearer]

"That much is true, yes. Wishing and wanting don't do much by themselves. But that doesn't mean you should do nothing. Are they teaching you how to swordfight?"

[starrydome]

He nods.

"We're captives,my brother and I. But they teach us. Fighting. How to survive in the wild. And reading and writing. Music. Those things."

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede listens, and nods.

"Would you like to learn more? I can teach you what I know, but it has kept me alive for quite a while. I warn you my style of swordplay is likely to be wholly alien to you, but if you'd like, I can teach you some about survival."

[starrydome]

He lights up.

"I'd like that. Thank you."

He takes a bite of one of the dolmades, chewing carefully and swallowing before he continues, "One day, we'll run away. And we'll need to be able to fend for ourselves."

They're less terrified of the Sons of Feanor now than when they were first captured. And this place is safe.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede smiles. "It's relatively simple to survive, honestly. You need to have shelter, you need to be able to find food and water, you need to know how to start a fire. Knowing how to treat wounds will help if you need to," he says lightly.

"What of that do you know how to do now?"

[starrydome]

"I know how to make a small shelter from branches," the child says.

"I know which roots and berries are safe to eat, and I can make snares. I can make a fire with two sticks. I know how to tell if water is bad for drinking."

He lists the items on his fingers.

"I can bind cuts and ease pain."

[the_cupbearer]

"Then honestly, you've got most of the knowledge you need," Ganymede answers. "You could do worse than to have some extra clothes, warm ones, stored away. And collect food before you go--get it from here, it will be safe and you won't have to be on short rations before you leave."

He laid a hand on the bar to ask for a note, and wrote the list down as he spoke. "Do you know where you are going?"

[darkeryetdarker]

The small child grabs Gaster's attention - they're clearly not human, judging by the ears, but too human-looking to be a monster.

Then he sees the bruises.

Gaster approaches the child slowly, not wanting to scare them.

"Are you all right?"

[starrydome]

The child looks up and his eyes widen.

He has never seen a being like this before.

But it is polite. And he will be so too. Even if he can feel a small trembling inside.

"I am well. Thank you."

[darkeryetdarker]

"It's alright. I won't hurt you. Here..."

Gaster extends a skeletal hand towards one of the bruises. It pulses with a soft light, and the bruise begins to fade.

[starrydome]

The child gasps and looks at him, even more wide-eyed.

"Are you a Maia?"

They can look like anything.

[darkeryetdarker]

"Er...no. I'm a monster - a skeleton." Gaster add that last part after a moment, knowing some of Bar's patrons have a different reaction to that word.

"How did this happen? Did something hurt you?"

[starrydome]

A monster!

But -

He frowns a little, so caught up in the apparant inconsistency he's found, that he quite forgets about being scared.

"I don't think a monster would care if I was hurt," he says. "Are you dead?"

Maybe this is what happens to Mortal Men when they die. He hopes not.

[darkeryetdarker]

Gaster gives a small smile. "Monsters are what my species are called. As for whether I am dead..."

He trails off. The answer is complicated, to say the least, and this child seems like they've got more on their mind.

"...well. I was born looking this way."

[starrydome]

The child looks at him, seriously. Then he says, "Then I shall try not to be frightened. That would not be fair to you."

Even if he is quite scary looking.

[darkeryetdarker]

"Thank you." Gaster smiles. "You seem like a very kind child."

Then he asks again.

"How did you get these bruises?"

[starrydome]

"These," the child says,holding out his scratched arms and hands, "I for because I found edible moss hidden beneath bramble. I tried to mind the thorns, but you cannot avoid them."

He reaches one hand up to his cheek, without touching. "This I got because I wasn't fast enough during sword practice. It was with the flat side."

It could have been a cut.

[darkeryetdarker]

"Sword practice?" Gaster frowns slightly. This child looks too young to be doing either of those things. He chooses his next words carefully.

"It sounds like you come from a very dangerous world."

[starrydome]

He nods.

"It is. My brother and I are captives. And there's a war. Everyone learns how to fight."

Even children.

[darkeryetdarker]

"Captives?"

Gaster can remember, from when he was very small, his own people being at war.

"Who is it that has the two of you imprisoned?"

[starrydome]

"The Sons of Fëanor. They have sworn an Oath to reclaim the jewels their father created. Our parents had one of them,so they sacked our city and took my brother and I captive."

He can say it now without his voice breaking. If he doesn't think too much about the words.

[darkeryetdarker]

Gaster's SOUL aches with sympathy, along with the rage at the injustice of a dispute so petty, and that a child should be caught up in it and suffer this way.

He can guess what happened to this child's parents. Gaster can't change what's happening on the other side of the door, but he can start there.

"My race was at war, too, when I was a child."