30 / 12 / 18 ~ In which Elrond teaches his apprentice about first-hand experience.

Disclaimer: "The Lord of the Rings" is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien. I only claim ownership over Eleanor Dace, Rávamë (aka "Tink"), and the subsequent plot of their story.

A/N: Someone once asked me what I meant when Ellie mentioned back in Book 1 "as Lord Elrond's apprentice, you either learned fast, or you didn't learn at all." Well, lovelies, this is what she was referring to…

The Best Teacher

Book 1 : Chapter 6.1

"She is late again," the master of Rivendell murmured ominously from the head of the long dinner table.

His eyes had been fixed disapprovingly on the only empty chair at the end for the last five minutes, his exasperation growing with every passing second it remained vacant.

"You say that as if she had not been late for every meal this week," Glorfindel noted just as darkly, though slightly hampered by a forkful of pheasant.

Elrond heaved a sigh. He had made clear early in his ward's time in Imladris that dinner was served exactly at seven, and not a moment later. Given her enjoyment of the food produced by the house's cooks, she'd rarely been late, let alone missed a course. At least, not until he'd begun assigning her mandatory reading quotas as part of her healer's training. Something about introducing his apprentice to the house's library had seemingly evaporated her ability to keep time — never mind be on time.

"At least she is consistent," the Lord of Rivendell muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"You did assign her five complex toxins to revise today, Ada*. Along with all their symptoms, effects, and antidotes," Arwen said mildly, giving her father and Glorfindel both a pointed look over the top of her wineglass. "You can hardly fault her for her devotion to the standards you demand."

Glorfindel looked as if the pheasant had turned a bit sour in his mouth, but he knew better than to rise to the bait.

For all her infamous grace and beauty Elrond's only daughter had inherited — likely from her grandmother, he suspected — the surprising ability to vivisect another person's argument with only a few words, all while maintaining an air of impeccable politeness. It had startled the world-weary Glorfindel the first time he'd been exposed to it. And while Elrond didn't exactly relish his old friend's discomfort, it was oddly satisfying as a father to see his then-adolescent child put a habitually patronising old veteran in his place.

What was more, Arwen had recently begun to grow rather fond of her father's new apprentice, often keeping her company while she studied. As a result, she had become increasingly disapproving of both her father's and Glorfindel's guerrilla approach to her medical and physical training.

"Might I ask, Ada," Elladan, the elder of Elrond's twin sons asked with a beatific expression from his place opposite Eleanor's empty chair. "Why do we have all the windows open when it is this cold a'night?"

It was true, the small dining hall they regularly used for meals was bordering on uncomfortably chilly. All the windows had been left open despite the early autumn air rolling down from the mountains. The staff had only looked slightly concerned when Elrond gave them their odd instructions. All of them had been residing within Imladris long enough to know better than to question the lord of the house too much.

Elrond eyed his faux-innocent looking eldest child.

"You may well ask," he responded and went back to slowly eating his meal, saying exactly nothing more. Elladan's face twitched in a crooked smile of silent amusement — an expression that was so similar to Celebrian's it never failed to tug at Elrond's heart whenever it appeared.

"A clue for our intrepid new ward, mayhaps?" The identical male Elf sat beside him suggested, not even bothering to try and mask his own enjoyment. Elrohir, while the exact mirror to his twin brother in appearance — fair, tall, dark-haired, and blue-eyed — had always been far less reserved in both his amusement and his opinions. Especially on his father's latest apprentice.

"Élanor has been here almost a year now, Elrohir. She is hardly as new as you treat her anymore," Arwen said, giving both her smirking older brothers a suspicious look. "And what do you mean a clue?"

Elrohir just smiled at his younger sister, then at Elladan, and finally, at his father, the expression bearing a close resemblance to what Eleanor had once referred to as 'a Cheshire Cat grin.'

"Nothing. Only that the entertainment value has yet to grow old. I do hope it continues," he said, popping a piece of gravy-soaked bread into his mouth. "You know she set your lab on fire yesterday, again?"

"I did. Entertainment is not the word I would have selected for that mess. Or any other she has created these past months," Glorfindel said, his tone dry as the expression on his face.

"Not even for the attempts she gave at learning to use the sword last month?"

"Or the harp, the month before?" Elladan suggested, joining in.

Glorfindel visibly winced, as if the mere memory of both Eleanor's appalling sword skills and lacking musicality pained him. It was no secret he was not overly fond of the young Elleth, but Elrond knew that despite his often chilly treatment of her, the concern had always stemmed from concern for him, not a personal dislike of her. However, when you were as old and spiritually weary as he was, capacity for patience with the young often wears thin — and his dear apprentice often required more than the usual dose of patience.

"She is… enthusiastic in her pursuits, I will grant her that much. A dedicated student if nothing else," he offered, and Elrond was almost disappointed his apprentice wasn't there to hear the micro-compliment. He glanced at her empty chair once again.

"Though, I do wish she would glance up often enough from her pursuits to notice the candles are burning down," he muttered, more to himself than the table at large.

The last time he'd found her reading this late in the library, he'd entered to find her stamping out a singed set of (thankfully blank) parchments that she hadn't noticed were aflame until the smoke had filled the room.

He hoped that hadn't been the case this time.

A muffled bang echoed from down the hall outside, a sound that would have been too quiet for any Man to hear had any been present. Unfortunately for the one who'd made the sound, there were five Elves seated around the table, and they all heard it quite clearly.

Elladan and Elrohir both threw each other sideways grins.

"Three, two, on—"

The door to the dinner hall suddenly flew open, yanking Eleanor inside with it. She'd clearly intended to creak the door open and sneak through quietly but hadn't realised the door was already ajar. Colour flooded her face and ears beneath her wispy braided hair as she all but fell inside, steadying herself on the doorframe and trying valiantly to appear as if she hadn't just sprinted the entire length of the house.

"Sorry I'm late, Master," she winced, glancing around at the faces all already seated and fixed on her with mixed looks of exasperation and amusement. She winced "…again."

Elrond straightened in his chair and set his fork down with deliberate slowness. His ward and apprentice's ears grew even redder as she shifted from foot to foot as he regarded her, looking as if she was resisting the impulse to flee from the room again. She was still dressed in the riding greens she'd worn for her run that morning, and there was a large smudge of soot across her left temple and cheek.

So she had let the candle burn down, again.

"Did you complete the assigned scrolls?" he asked. Eleanor blinked, then nodded.

"Yes, all of them. Twice."

He smiled minutely.

"Good. Come, be seated."

Arwen gave her a warm smile as she hurried to sit down in the adjacent chair, one of the kitchen staff appearing as if from thin air with a fresh plate of steaming pheasant and roasted vegetables covered in lemon and pepper. Eleanor's stomach unleashed an almost comically loud rumble, clearly only just realising that she'd forgotten to eat lunch once again. She uttered a brief thanks to the serving steward before immediately digging in, the rest of them following suit.

"I trust the library is still standing?" Elrond asked mildly after a moment, watching his ward trying and failing to eat as elegantly as Arwen while sating her famished stomach. She swallowed a mouthful of pheasant and gave him a slightly sour look.

"It is, Master."

"And the lab?" Elrohir asked with his Cheshire Cat grin.

"The sanatorium? Both still in one piece?" Elladan added, a teasing tilt to his smile. Eleanor looked as if she was barely resisting throwing a catty retort back, but one glance at Elrond and Glorfindel's faces and she refrained.

"No fires, explosions, floods, falling objects or otherwise today. So sorry to disappoint."

"Then why does it look like you crawled down a chimney on the way in here?" Glorfindel asked, his deadpan tone belaying any possible trace of humour.

Eleanor paused in the midst of raising another forkful to her mouth. Then she picked up one of the dessert spoons, squinting into it to examine the state of her face. A groaning noise escaped her as she finally saw the giant smear of soot, muttering something about being sure she'd gotten it all off.

"Here," Arwen chuckled, pulling the napkin off her lap, dipping it in her water glass and offered it to her, Eleanor mumbled an embarrassed thank you, her face colouring again as she cleaned off the remaining ash and dirt.

"I was working on the distilling method you showed me last week, Master," she explained sheepishly once she was done. "It's harder than it looks to heat the hithlas leaves without them catching fire."

Elrond nodded, quietly pleased he'd succeeded in piquing her curiosity with the demonstration. Though judging by the guilty wince on her face he'd have to remember to restock that particular part of the storage cupboard.

"And did you discover the trick to it?"

She winced slightly. Yes, he would definitely have to order a restock.

"Eventually," she admitted, clearing her throat and obviously scrabbling for any plausible change of topic. "Aragorn's still not back yet?"

"Not for another week at least," Elladan answered first, and Elrond noted the twinge of disappointment in her eye.

"Where exactly has he gone?"

"Headfirst into danger, no doubt," Elrohir answered her flippantly, and Elrond gave him a quelling look.

"He is investigating an important matter south of the Misty Mountains, near Rohan. I requested he track someone down," he said. Eleanor's brows furrowed.

"That doesn't sound all that dangerous."

"Indeed not. If, of course, he had been sent out with any kind of support whatsoever," Arwen chipped in, and much like his apprentice, Elrond didn't miss the note of both disappointment and worry in her tone, tinged with mild resentment aimed at him. He eyed his daughter with a mix of disapproval and empathy.

He was well aware of how his daughter had begun to feel towards the Man in the past few years, and while he understood the pull of her feelings towards someone she both respected and cared for, he was still her father. It would always be his prerogative to worry; and when needed, speak hard truths.

"He volunteered of his own volition, Arwen. As always," he told her gently.

"And you know he travels swiftest alone," Glorfindel added. Arwen was silent, and while the resentment dissipated from her expression, the lingering fear for Aragorn's safety didn't.

The conversation lulled in the wake of the ranger's mention, and a sheepish Eleanor took the opportunity to continue demolishing her meal, avoiding sparking any more awkward topics. The colour in her cheeks still hadn't receded. In fact, it had gone from an embarrassed pink to a feverish red, and she was starting to look a bit dizzy. So much so that when she went to reach for her water glass she missed entirely and knocked over her wine glass, spilling dark red liquid in a long splash across the table. Elladan had clearly seen it coming because he was up and throwing his napkin over the spill before Eleanor had even registered it had happened.

"There goes another tablecloth," Elrohir said, more jovial than was entirely proper. He seemed even more relieved for an excuse to ease the tension than Eleanor had.

"I daresay there's more where this one came from," Glorfindel commented, and Elladan nodded, smiling at her.

"Indeed. No harm done."

Arwen ignored them all, shifting closer to peer at Eleanor's flushed, suddenly rather dazed face. She was blinking a lot as if trying to clear her vision of fog.

"Élanor? Are you sure you are well?" Arwen asked. She shook her head, suddenly appearing almost drunk and unbalanced in her chair.

"S-sorry, I'm not… I'm suddenly not feeling well. I…" She looked genuinely confused, then puzzled as she glanced down and spotted the feverish reflection in her soup spoon. Wiping a hand quickly across her forehead she stared in surprise at the dampness that came away on her sleeve. "I'm… sweating?"

She stared around at them all in honest bafflement, then at the windows which were now noticeably wide open.

"It's cold in here. How am I sweating?"

"That will likely be due to the poison in your food," Elrond said out of nowhere, without so much as a trace of sugarcoating.

Eleanor's fork hit her plate with a loud clatter, sending the entire table into stunned silence. Even Glorfindel looked faintly surprised.

"W-what?!" she croaked, eyes wide on her mentor.

"Poison," Elrond repeated cooly, glancing up from his own meal. "Specifically one of the five plant-based toxins I assigned for you to study today. I had the cook mix a dose into your meal."

"Oh, Ada!" Arwen sighed, sounding more exasperated than alarmed.

Eleanor, still shellshocked, looked down in horror at her half-consumed plate. She sent a disbelieving gape over at the twins, clearly hoping they'd confirm some hope that this was all an elaborate prank. But they both just smiled guiltily at her from across the table.

"Sorry, Mîwen**," Elladan shrugged sheepishly.

"He made us swear not to tell you," Elrohir added, though he seemed far less worried than his twin. If anything, he looked highly amused by the growing expression of panic on Eleanor's face.

"If you have sufficiently studied the assigned material," Elrond cut in, pulling his apprentice's increasingly frantic attention back to him, "You should be able to identify the toxin used by its symptoms, and brew the correct antidote in time."

She gawked at him like a landed fish, mouth working to get any words out.

"H-how—?!"

"You will find all the ingredients you need in the cabinet behind my desk."

"B-but—!"

"Feel free to take whatever brewing equipment you require from the storage cupboards, again." He picked up his wine glass and gestured to the door. "You are excused, apprentice."

Lord Elrond watched with a mask of serene calm as his student simply gaped at him for a split second, then all but knocked her chair over in her haste to get out of it, flying out of the room as fast as her rapidly wobbling legs would move her. He kept the facade in place until the bangs and crashes of her stumbling down the corridors were well out of earshot before heaving a sigh.

"Boundless entertainment," Elrohir tittered, leaning back in his chair. Elladan was smiling too, but Arwen was far less amused.

"She has been training with you for barely six months!" she said in outrage, rounding on her father. "Your last student did not get his first poisoning until he had been studying for at least two years!"

Elrond raised his shoulder in a micro-shrug, taking a sip from his wineglass.

"She is quick to learn."

"She will be quick to die if she does not," Glorfindel commented, eyeing Eleanor's laced plate of food with concern. He glanced up at the lord of the house, looking skeptical. "Are you certain she is quite ready for this level of trial by fire?"

"Concerned for her wellbeing, old friend?" Elrond asked, eyeing him somewhat suspiciously. Since when had he been against throwing challenging tasks at the Elleth?

The tiniest of smirks tugged at the corner of Glorfindel's lip.

"More for your reputation. You may never teach again if word gets out you put another apprentice in the infirmary mere months into their training."

Elrond set down his glass and shot the ancient blond Elf lord a narrow look.

"Only once did that happen."

Arwen just sighed, setting aside her chair and getting up.

"I had best go make sure she has a bucket nearby."

With that, she departed the room, following Eleanor's path back across the house.

Elrond sat back in his seat, unworried for his apprentice despite the time it had taken her to recognise the poison's symptoms. The dose had been non-lethal, barely enough to give her a bad stomach for a night if left untreated. Of course, she didn't need to know that — and the pressure of potentially imminent death would be a good test of her focus.

His gaze fell to his own half-finished dinner plate with the tiniest twinge of guilt, and Elrond found his own appetite suddenly dissipating. She had been working tirelessly for the past few months since he'd hesitantly agreed to take her on as his apprentice, spending hours in the library and sanatorium, frequently forgetting to eat or sleep. Truth be told, he had almost regretted the decision as soon as it was made, though not through any fear that she would make a poor student. If anything, she was one of the more dedicated students he'd ever accepted.

No, he knew well that his hesitation at taking her on had come from the same place that tiny twinge of guilt and his lost appetite had; the silent fear that he would not be able to inflict the necessary — but often cruel — trials needed to complete her training. The fear of having to choose between hurting her a little bit now, or allowing her to be hurt greatly later…

Unwillingly, his mind drifted to thoughts of Celebrian, and a stab of true pain went through his chest.

It had been many years now since his beloved wife's abduction, torture, and eventual rescue, and yet the wounds her trial had left on his heart still felt fresh. She had been by far the kindest, honest, and most radiant souls he had ever known. Seeing that light in her diminish with the horror of what she had endured, and knowing he could do nothing for her but let her sail into the West had been agony. And in many ways, it still was. Every time he looked upon his children in loving pride, a twinge of that same pain always returned.

If only she had been better prepared, he'd thought. If he had helped her master her own defence instead of trying to take all the responsibility onto himself, she might have—

But no, he thought now, pushing the thought firmly away. That way lay treachery. He had done all he could for her at the time, and though he felt the emptiness she had left behind every day, he would not allow himself to give in to despair in her name.

Not a second time.

'But Élanor is not just your apprentice. She is also a ward under your protection,' that nagging voice of self-doubt insisted, tugging at his conscience. 'She has already endured so much, and will only continue to. Can you really bring yourself to inflict more?'

"Can I afford not to?"

Only as he said the words did he realise he'd answered Glorfindel's original question aloud.

"Ada?"

Elrond glanced up to find both his sons both giving him peculiar stares, but Glorfindel himself simply sent him a small smile of understanding and continued with his meal without further comment. He at least understood all too well the weight of a long life, and how its memories could so easily pull you from reality.

"Nothing," Elrond assured them, setting aside his own plate and napkin. "I have had sufficient for tonight. Do continue without me."

He rose from his chair, and while Elladan and Elrohir both didn't look convinced nothing was truly bothering him, they knew when to leave well enough alone.

A spark fo affection kindled in Elrond's chest as he passed them, along with a renewed sting of guilt for his afflicted apprentice. He'd have to have some fresh, un-laced food brought up to her room once she'd had a chance to calm down. And, depending on whether she successfully brewed the antidote in time, once she'd stopped vomiting.

"Are you certain I should not warn the infirmary to have the antidote on hand, just in case?" Glorfindel called after him, and Elrond paused to genuinely consider the notion properly before answering.

"No. She will either succeed or she will learn. I have given her all the tools she needs to master her chosen skills," he said, silently deciding to stop by the kitchens and take up his apprentice's un-poisoned meal himself. "Believe me, old friend, in matters like this, real experience is a far better teacher than I could ever hope to be."

Translations:

* Ada — Informal version of "Father"; aka. "Dad" (Sindarin)

** Mîwen — Literally "small lady", Eleanor's epessë "nickname" given by the twins (Sindarin)

A/N: Ok, I won't lie, this chapter was a lot of fun to write, and is probably the main reason I managed to drag myself out of my latest bout of writer's block. There's a lot to be said for changing both the character and POV occasionally (and also not bring in a toxic working environment where sleep is apparently only for the weak-willed.) I really hope you all have had a great and restful Christmas and a holiday season so far. And perhaps enjoyed both the first look at the twin sons of Elrond, and this little nugget of insight into what life was like for Ellie in those two years before joining the Fellowship.

If any of you have looked at my Tumblr recently you'll probably see that I'm very nearly done with the next chapter of CM (I've been working on it over Xmas since it's one I reeeally want to get right.) With any luck, I'll have it up either tomorrow or on New Year's day, but there will defo be a preview up on my blog before then.

As always, thanks so much for the awesome feedback. It just keeps getting better every time I come back, and I can't thank you enough for that.

Much love until next time (soooon!)

Rella xx