A Man Who Flies From His Fear May Find He Has Only Taken A Shortcut To Meet It by LadySternchen  

Sleep- Elmo

Sheer, blank panic floods his body, replacing the sleepy drowsiness of a moment before. He stares down at the body that lies before him, watches it change, hair turning darker, eyes slowly closing. Eyes that were the only recognisable feature in his father’s face. All else is blood and torn-apart flesh.

“Elwë!”

His brother does not stir, making Elmo fling himself at him, shaking him violently.

“Elwë, wake up, wake up!”

With a jolt, Elwë sits upright, his eyes scanning the scene. Then, when he realises that nothing is amiss, he relaxes, and looks exasperatedly at Elmo, who feels a deep sadness replacing the fear in his stomach. He does not want his brother to be angry with him. It is worse even than when his parents were angry. Somehow, Elwë is both to him now.

“Elmo, please let me sleep for once, please!”

Elwë sounds exhausted, which makes guilt creep up Elmo’s throat, and tears start in his eyes. He wants nothing more than his mother’s arms.

“Don’t cry, Elmo. I am sorry. I did not mean to scold you. I’m just so tired.”

Elwë puts his arm around him soothingly.

“I… I…”

“I know you are scared when we all sleep, but-“

“It’s not that.” Elmo says in a small voice.

“What frightens you so, then?”

“Seeing you sleep. You… you look so much like… like…” he could not speak his father’s name “And I don’t want you to die, you must not die, ever! Don’t leave me!”

“You remember? His body?” Elwë’s voice is utterly toneless now, as though the mere thought takes his breath away.

Of course Elmo remembers. Small he might have been, but the image of his father’s mangled body has etched itself ineffaceably in his mind’s eye. He cannot hold back his tears anymore, howling now in misery and grief.

“What’s the matter?” Olwë mumbles sleepily, awoken perhaps by Elmo’s sobs.

“It’s alright. Go back to sleep, Olwë.” Elwë says calmly, then, finally, pulls Elmo tight against his chest.

The warmth of his brother’s body soothes him, calms him, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat is deeply reassuring.

“I am not leaving you, Elmo. So it is seeing me sleep that frightens you because you think me dead?”

Elmo nods against Elwë’s chest, almost ashamed now. This fear seems so ridiculous now that his brother is up and talking.

“I am not leaving you, I promise. I shall not even go on adventures with Finwë anymore if that makes you worry. I promise you I will care for you for as long as you need me, and I will love you into all eternity. But I need to sleep, Elmo. I cannot stay awake forever. And you need not fear, we Quendi do not die just like that, like beasts or birds. You should know that by now.”

Again, Elmo nods, though the lump in his throat grows once more. He knows this, but that does not help to chase the images away.

“Would it help” Elwë asks gently, hoisting Elmo more securely into his arms and covering them both in his mantle “if we slept like that?”

It is very comforting, so comforting, in fact, that Elmo already feels his eyelids droop already. Elwë chuckles as he lies back down with Elmo still in his arms, so that the movement shakes Elmo a little.

“It seems so, at least” he concludes, then starts stroking Elmo’s head, until Elmo is fast asleep.