Title: Elusive Dreams (1/?)

Author: Pickle Pixie

E-Mail: picklepixie83@hotmail.com

Rating: G so far

Summary: Elrohir can’t sleep …

Disclaimer: All the characters you recognise belong to JRR Tolkein, God and author extraordinaire. I am making no money from this and mean no infringement upon his works.

Elrond made his way quietly through the passages of Imladris, the only noise to be heard made by the swish of his robes on the cold flagstone floor as they swept behind him. He knew not what had drawn him from his slumber, but it had wrenched him from the paths of Elven dreams, and he knew he would find no further peace this night.

The lord of Imladris walked trough the passages of the Last Homely House as if in a trance, gazing at the shadows chasing each other across the ground, only to dance on up the walls. His feet were leading him somewhere, sensing his unrest. He rarely felt this way, unless one of his children were in peril. At these times Elrond Peredhil both blessed and cursed his gift of foresight.

Elrond sighed as his thoughts turned to the very child who was usually at the root of his foreboding and sleepless nights. Estel was due to return on the morrow from the wilds where he had been hunting with Legolas Thranduilion before the biting chill of winter set in. Already the golden leaves were falling, and in the early morning hours one could see their breath on the air. Surely Estel would return whole ….

It was not that Elrond doubted his foster son’s ability in caring for himself in the widerness; indeed, Elrond had every confidence in the skills his own twin sons had taught their eager sibling. But mortal life was so fragile. Estel had been with him a mere twenty two years, and Elrond already feared the day he would lose his youngest son.

Shaking those desolate thoughts from his mind, Elrond rounded a corner and strode through an archway into his great library. He had no reason to fear for Estel. The prophetic stirring was not so specific as was its wont, and Estel had not gone far. There was no need for him worry unduly. Setting the candlestick he held upon a desk, Elrond ran his hand across the ancient mahogany grain. He inhaled the scent of the wood deeply, still as potent as it had been the hundreds of years ago that the desk had been fashioned. The Elven lord always found solace amongst the shelves of his library. And so, it seemed, did another.

"Elrohir? My son, why do you not seek your rest? The hour grows late. It is far past time for little Elflings to be dreaming."

Despite the softness of his voice, Elrond’s words still cut across the silence of Rivendell’s archives. But the younger of his twin sons did not look up at his father. Nor did he even start at the sudden disturbance to his reverie. He continued to gaze out at the stars from his perch on the wide balcony. All parts of the Peredhil home were open to nature, never breaking the connection of all the Eldar who inhabited it’s halls to Middle Earth.

Elrond stepped closer to his son, feeling some disturbance around the boy. He had to remind himself that this ‘boy’ was almost three thousand years old. But a boy he was still in the eyes of his father, and a mere babe in arms he would seem to the Valar.

"Do you think he watches us as we do him, Ada?" Elrohir’s voice was little more than a whispering breeze.

"Who, pen neth?" Elrond was at his son’s side now, and placed a hand gently upon his shoulder so as not to startle him.

"Grand-father. He is always there, watching. But does he see?"

"Eärendil? Of course he sees us. My father is ever watchful. Elrohir, what troubles you?" Elrond turned his son’s face to his own, forcing their eyes to meet. His brow furrowed at the uncertainty he saw in those grey depths. He was not used to this unease from Elrohir. The younger twin always seemed so … contented.

"I find myself … oh, I do not know Ada. I only know that sleep eludes me this night. As it does you it seems. Tell me, do you fear for Estel?"

Elrond did not miss his son’s attempt at changing the subject, and a wry, fleeting smile graced his lips.

"Nay, no more than usual. However, my wonderings have revealed to me another source of worry. I ask again child, what troubles you so? It is usually impossible to stir you from your slumber. Indeed, it would be easier to pry fresh mushrooms away from a ravenous Perian. Now tell me, ion nín. Why do you not sleep?"

"There is no need to fear for me Ada. I am merely restless. I find myself anxious over Estel’s return. You know I am fretful when he is abroad without either Elladan or myself. I shall retire now." Elrohir made to move past his father, but was halted by a firm grip oh his forearm.

Elrond looked again into his son’s eyes and sighed. Perhaps he truly was only concerned over Estel’s well being. Was that not the reason he was here himself?

"Very well Elrohir. Go and seek your dreams. I do not wish to see you again until you are well rested. Sweet dreams, little star." Elrond drew his son to his breast and placed a gentle kiss on his brow.

Elrohir leaned into the embrace before breaking it. "Goodnight Ada."

Elrond watched the retreating form of his son. ‘Ah, the young. They will be the drive me to distraction yet’ he thought. He continued to stare at the archway that his son had disappeared through until he could no longer hear the light padding of Elven feet.

~*~

Elrohir did not return to his chambers immediately. Instead he stopped at the door adjacent to his own. Making barely a sound, he slipped through the heavy oak door. Crossing the room and settling himself upon the thin window ledge, Elrohir again devoted his attention to the stars.

He sat balanced on the sill for what seemed an eternity, the faint breeze stirring his braids as he sang softly to Elbereth. His voice was only stilled by a muffled sound from deeper within the room.

Elrohir smiled as he again turned his attention away from the stars and onto a member of his family. Elladan turned in his sleep, lips moving silently as he conversed with unknown spirits in his slumber. Elrohir continued to watch his twin, taking in the glassy stare of Elven dreams and the gentle rise and fall of his brothers chest. Gradually, Elrohir’s breathing fell into a rhythm with his brother’s, and he found the peace which had previously escaped him that night. Slowly, ever so slowly, Elrohir descended into the depths of sleep.

TBC

Chapter 2

“Aragorn. Aragorn awake. It is time to meet the new day. Anor rose long ago! Aragorn! You cannot sleep forever Master Sluggard!”

Legolas sighed and shook his head. Aragorn was usually a light sleeper. It would irritate the Mirkwood Prince intensely when he would take watches. His human friend rarely let his senses relax fully when he was not on watch. On occasion all Legolas had to do was shift his position to find himself fixed with a concerned, questioning gaze.

But this was one of the rare instances when Aragorn would reach such a state of exhaustion or excitement that, when sleep claimed him, she would not let him return to the land of the waking without a fight. Legolas knew that when Aragorn was in this state, there was only one way to wake the young human.

Grinning, Legolas leapt lightly into the eaves of the tree that had sheltered them for the night. He always loved this part. Secreting himself amongst the boughs, Legolas’ smirk twitched before he took a deep breath…

“YRCH!”

Legolas watched silently as the peaceful form below started into frenzied action. Aragorn was on his feet in the blink of an eye, kicking lanky limbs to disentangle himself from his bedroll. In one swift movement he had drawn his sword and swept his dark locks from his eyes. A battle cry rent the air.

“Elendil!”

The Wood Elf’s eyed sparkled with barely concealed glee as he dropped to the ground behind his dazed friend. Aragorn spun on his heels to come face to face with his chuckling comrade.

“Quel undome, mellon nin.”

Aragorn’s chest was heaving with exertion. His hand started to tremble as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He stared dumbstruck at Legolas with a slightly fevered glint in his eyes as his brain comprehended the disappearance of the threat that had torn him from his rest. His voice came out as a rasp when he finally composed himself enough to speak.

“Good evening indeed! What in the name of Eru are you trying to do to me?”

“I was merely trying to wake you my friend. You overslept as it was. We are expected in Imladris this morning. And yet you sleep the day away! It has been three new moons since you have seen your father and brothers. I expected you to be up with the dawn and pestering me to be on our way. You know there is only one way to wake you when you slumber so deeply, as Elladan discovered long ago.”

“Aye, you speak truly my friend. Alas that it was ‘adan who discovered that particular weakness. I spent the best part of six months rising before him so that he would not have the opportunity to rouse me in such a fashion. Elrohir would not have been nearly so cruel … he would only have teased me for two months at the most.”

“It will be good to see them again. I have missed their banter.”

“As have I.” Aragorn sheathed his sword and turned his attention to his dishevelled bedroll. “I believe that is why I was so difficult to bring back to wakefulness this morning. I have been so excited to be going home, I believe I finally exhausted myself.”

“Oh Aragorn, just like an Elfling at Yuletide.”

“Now now princeling, in Elven terms you are as young as I. Now bite that poisonous tongue and help me to break camp. I feel the need to sleep in my own bed again. At least in my chambers there are no trees for you to hide in!”

*~*~*

Elladan was aware of his twin’s presence in his room before he was even fully aware of being awake. He stretched out like a cat, easing out the knots and kinks of sleep. He sat up and ran a hand back through his long raven hair as he scanned the room for his brother.

He smiled softly as his gaze rested on the form of his twin. Elrohir was sitting back against the stone alcove of his window. One long leg dangled down towards the floor, while the other was folded beneath him. His hands rested gently in his lap and his head lolled to one side. Elrohir’s hair, slightly longer than Elladan’s own, fell over his face like a curtain.

The fond smile on Elladan’s face twisted to become a mischievous smirk. This was just too easy! He couldn’t have planned a better opportunity to humiliate Elrohir. ‘If this works so well on Estel,’ Elladan thought, ‘there’s no reason it cannot be just as amusing with Elrohir!’

Elladan slipped out from beneath his silken sheets and dropped his feet silently to the floor. He furtively made his way to the opposite end of the alcove to his brother, preparing to conceal himself behind the deep red drapes farming the window. But as he neared his brother and the last cobwebs of sleep cleared from his mind, he forgot his plan entirely.

Elrohir’s breathing hitched ever so slightly, and the occasional tremor, undetectable to a mortal eye, would shoot down his left arm. Elladan could almost hear Elrohir’s heart hammering in his chest. Elladan dopped all attempts at stealth and made towards his twin. Surely Elrohir would hear him and awaken.

But Elrohir did not wake. Elladan sped up his steps to reach the other elf’s side. Reaching out, he brushed Elrohir’s hair back behind a delicately pointed ear. What he saw stopped his breath, and a strangled gasp escaped him.

Elrohir’s eyes were closed.

*~*~*

Aragorn smiled as he and Legolas rode along the ridge above Rivendell. Below him he could see his Father’s house. The smile gracing his features soon faded into a wistful, far off look. The ranger felt the tell tale prick of tears behind his eyes, and he furiously blinked them away. The change in his friend’s demeanour was not lost upon Legolas.

“You are home Aragorn. Will it not be wondrous to once again feel warm water seep into your aching bones, and a soft feather pillow beneath your head. I for one am anticipating a marvellous feast, and Valar willing a change of clothes! Two tunics can only last so long in the wilds. I believe this one met the end of it’s usefulness in the flooding of the Loudwater. Aragorn, are you not pleased to be home?”

“Home.” Aragorn sighed deeply. “I fear it will never be that for me again, not truly.”

Legolas threw back his head and laughed. “What nonsense you speak Aragorn! I do believe you hit your head harder than I thought after your fall from Malmereth when you persued that stag. Whatever can you mean?”

“Oh Legolas, you do not know how lucky you are. Elrond has been as a father to me. Nay, he is my father. But … you know he told me of my true heritage. My place as Isildur’s heir. I understand my path Legolas, but I fear it. I fear that my destiny will take away who I am, the man I have become. Already it has changed me. I would forsake it if it meant that I would remain Estel, son of Elrond, brother to Elladan and Elrohir.”

Aragorn turned to look at the elf for the first time since he started speaking. He had been wrestling with these emotions ever since his father had revealed his true lineage. He had taken the news rather well at first. If he were honest he was numb to it. He could not fully comprehend what it would mean. But time away from his home had given him the opportunity to reflect on the burden he had been given. For that is what this was. A burden that would change him forever; a burden that would rob him of his family.

“Aragorn. Whatever you may be in the future, you are first and foremost Estel. You always shall be.”

“You are wrong, my friend. Your father loves you. You are his son. You are Legolas Thranduilion. But I am not Estel Elrondion. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Even you call me such. And now, so do my family. Since Ada … Elrond, told me who my forefathers were, he and the rest of the household have begun to call me Aragorn. Not Estel. Not even ‘little’ Estel. I have loathed that endearment since the first moment it was uttered, but now I would give anything to hear it from my brother’s lips again.”

“Oh Aragorn. Your family merely seek to put you at ease with your heritage. They know of your fears, that you fear you will be as weak as Isildur was. They only wish to show you that they accept your ancestor’s folly, and they do not change how much they love you. And what do you mean, it can no longer be your home?”

“My heart will dwell there forever Legolas, but I fear my destiny will not allow me the peace and tranquillity I have known in this house again. My path is fraught with difficulty. I cannot linger here forever.”

“You have answered your own question, you dullard!“ laughed Legolas. “Your home is where your heart is, not a shell of a building. And no, you cannot spend lazy days with your brothers’ around Imladris any longer. Great deeds and dangers await you, son of Arathorn. But you will not meet them alone. I will be at your side, as will your brothers’. And as will your father. Arathorn may have sired you, but Elrond will always be your Ada.” The gaze Legolas fixed him with was so intense that Aragorn had to look away. He closed his eyes and let the internal conflict drop from his shoulders.

“You are right, mellon nin. Diolla le.”

Legolas smiled at Aragorn, and the young human could not help but smile back. His friend had assuaged his fears … for the time being. Aragorn resolved himself to think on it again later. There would be plenty of time to brood. For now he was looking forward to hearing the sound of the twins’ voices and the feel of his father’s arms around him.

The friends’ had been so absorbed in their conversation that they had not noticed the gates of Imladris coming ever nearer. Now they found themselves upon the threshold of the Last Homely House. Aragorn looked around the courtyard curiously as he dismounted Malmereth. There was no elfling to hand the reins to, no welcoming cheer or beloved faces. The courtyard was deserted. Aragorn could not remember a time when he had seen Rivendell as such. As a ghost town. The fears Aragorn had just pushed aside began to creep back up upon him. He turned a confused gaze upon Legolas, who was still atop his own mount, Culhiliel.

“Fear not Aragorn, someone approaches.”

Legolas nodded towards the steps leading into Elrond’s entrance hall. The great doors had swung open and a familiar form was making it’s way gracefully towards them.

“Glorfindel! Tell me friend, what is amiss? Where is my father? He has never not welcomed me home before.” Aragorn’s voice almost broke as he realised the truth of his own words. His father always greeted him at the gates. Legolas was here also. What possible reason could an Elven Lord have for not welcoming a Prince of a neighbouring realm? Aragorn stared imploringly at the blonde Eldar before him.

“Mae govannen, neth ernil. Lord Elrond bade me welcome you back to Imladris. He regrets that he is otherwise and unavoidably engaged.”

Legolas nodded his head as he dismounted. “Mae govannen, Aran Glorfindel.”

“Enough of the pleasantries!” Aragorn could not prevent his outburst. “Where in all of Arda is my father!”

Glorfindel looked stricken. It was painfully obvious to the friends that the ancient Elf did not volunteer to deliver these tidings to them.

“Thank Eru you are home Aragorn. You must hasten to your father. It is your brother.”

TBC