Glorfindel is carrying Estel to the bathing chamber after an illness or wounding. Estel is ashamed and balking.
Would you shame me also, were I in your place, Estel? If you had the opportunity and ability to carry me, care for me, bathe me even – were I in need?
Of course not! But you're a warrior and
And nothing. Is it so wretched to be in my arms, youngling? Do you not find some comfort in it?
Glorfindel, please... I should not...
Ah, so you think me weak then.
What? Of course not! Never.
But you must. For I take comfort from holding you. To feel you solid and warm against my chest. To feel your very breathing and be assured that you're alive. I find that especially comforting. I am heartened to care for you and I shall soar in joy when you stand again on your own. Love, Estel, is not exclusive.
He lowers the child gently into the warm waters prepared with healing and numbing tonics. He removes his hands and stands, as if to leave.
Do you truly feel better now, Estel? Do you prefer my distance? I shall leave upon your wish.
Gasping. No, I don't. Please, Glorfindel! Please! I'm sorry. I should be stronger, I should be…
Hush. You are exactly as you should be. Why do you fight us so? Put yourself here, beside the tub. Would you refuse to wash my back, even though I did not ask? Or would you, too, long to relieve me from having to. Would you perceive my struggle to carry out basic needs as a weakness, a flaw? Or would your heart sing in the helping and fairly shout to see me well?
Yes! Yes. Yes.
Accepting love does nothing but strengthen you, youngling. That you felt the need for solace when you were even younger, matters not; you felt hunger then, too, and are not still ashamed. Let me bathe you without fuss and tell me truly if you feel worse or better for it.