*******

Fog crept into the valley, seeming to make its way along by pacing wall to wall like some caged predator. "Go then, fly away!" Gilraen swept a hand above the misty path to no avail, warranting a frown and murmur from two Elves nearby.

"At least it might rain," she overheard, in a hopeful tone fit for saying the opposite, unless one were an Elf.

It is bound to be one of those days.

At the breakfast table, those seated were few and somber. They greeted her minimally. Among them sat not Elrond, whom Estel had gone to see.

"Or if he is not available, I shall find someone to make me useful this morn, as I am not hungry," he had told her. So subtly, since returning days ago by Elrond's command, would he make known his intended business.

This time Gilraen had halted him, saying, "Estel. No wrongdoing need you atone for. Master Elrond has said it, now I say it. If you seek my esteem, my trust, then be glad! It is yours today just as last week and the next."

"I know. But there is some difference."

In him went unsaid. His eyes straying towards the direction of the road gave Gilraen pause, then insight. "He thinks of Elladan who returned not. Have no worry. They shall reunite, make amends, and all will be well."

It did not occur to her until later how she must have sounded like Glorfindel. Estel did not seem to mind, and went his way with lighter steps -- maybe turning the nearest corner to sneak off on some brash deed. Gilraen banished the thought and fixed a plate for herself.

Outside, high clouds darker than fog strangled the dawn light. She took a place that faced a wall and considered going back to bed after eating. Her chosen corner opposed another, and glancing over her tea, she found herself sitting across from Elladan.

A few choice words boiled within her for this instigator of recent woe. She gave him her full regard and took a breath for speech. His face was grim with care and sleeplessness, masked by an air of oblivious indifference, transparent even to mortal sight. He wore his riding garb of grey, and ate as if for supper twice missed. His eyes did not rise, but were dim beneath their lids.

After dual twinges of shame and pity, Gilraen took a pitcher and refilled his cup.

No sooner did Telmoth break the silence as only she would. "So, Elladan, I heard you bent your knee to Master Elrond."

Elladan pushed plate away as one who has had his hardiest appetite ruined. The impassive expression so well maintained vanished; an unloving glare took its place and squared upon Telmoth.

"Which I was glad to hear, of course, as it meant you had forsaken sulking in the woods to come home, thus retaining some sense and honor." The Elf quit the prolonged cleaning of her knife to look at Elladan and feign surprise. "Come now! Of all things, have no shame for that."

To Gilraen's genuine surprise, he relented, lowering his gaze and picking at the food before him.

"Leave me be."

"I only meant to say welcome home, and how wonderful that things are redressed twixt you two! Again." Without the pretense, she continued, "And thus the talk has gone on and on these past days, if you would know. Your father keeps a large house, Elladan, but no longer a full one. When news is so little and far between, they see it is introduced and entertained like a guest welcome to stay."

Elladan's hands curled into fists on the table. "News? Gossip! And if Elrond abides it, then let them. As you say, my father keeps this bored old house," he added darkly, "but not forever."

Telmoth sat blinking for a moment, then without another word, stood and left him be in earnest. Gilraen thought to have an idea of the Elf's true grievance: that Elladan would forego escorting the Lord of Rivendell for any reason --least of all some 'deserved slight' as she had named it-- though the incident become the talk of the vale.

No one spoke again until Gilraen said, "At least it might rain," in dry jest for her own amusement -- but two others took up a spirited conversation thereof. Gilraen retired to her room.

***

"You are back abed? Are you unwell?" Estel stood in the open doorway, stricken.

"No, merely indolent." Gilraen tossed down the coverlet and folded her book with a smile. "What is that you have in the basket?"

"Some things for Master Elrond." He nodded before her reply. "Nothing special, really. We were around and about when I spotted these sprouted anew in the sun after the fog cleared. I was going to deliver them fresh with this book I borrowed. Since I could not find him this morning, maybe he will have me sit for a while. Would it please you to join?"

The window revealed equal parts clear sky as clouded, with the sun winning through. Gilraen resolved to give the day another chance. They went out in no hurry, for the noon turned fair. Its breeze carried the scent of aught the fog had smothered; they made a game of who could name the changing smells first.

"That cannot be parsley in fall, mother."

"It is, thanks to me, and I have half the batch in flower to reseed for next year. Elves know not what makes good soup." Except for Elladan, she almost amended, and forgot to mention his return instead when a drop of rain landed on her nose.

Estel held out a hand beside her. Without further notice, it began to rain, sunlight and all. No fewer than three Elves appeared from seemingly nowhere, dashing out of shelter to sing and frolic in the downpour.

One look passed between them before Gilraen and Estel ran laughing to take cover. Once inside the library foyer, they caught their breath and shook their clothes. Gilraen was hanging her shawl when she saw Estel flinch, and his eyes brighten.

"Father!" he blurted, nigh skipping forward.

He must have been especially startled or delighted to resume old habits since outgrown. But she too felt light at heart and smiled, now turning to see her son stopped before the lone occupied chair just as earlier in her doorway: stricken.

For her part, Gilraen needed only to see the bare hand upon the armrest to know it belonged not to Elrond.

Estel recovered to speak, "Sorry. Master Elrond always sits there. I mistook you from behind."

Gilraen came around just as Elladan finished some swirling hand gesture of welcome or never mind. He still had not changed clothes; a red bottle near empty sat by his soiled boot. She feared they had woken him, and wished to have warned Estel of his unhappy mood at breakfast.

"In any case, welcome back," said her son, taking to a chair himself and a more relaxed manner.

Elladan bowed his head in thanks, elongating the movement to bend and retrieve his drink.

"Estel? Your basket."

"Oh, that can wait, mother. Unless," he eyed Elladan doubtfully, "do you know where Elrond is?"

The Elf-man made a sound both mirthful and sarcastic. "Your father, Estel, mystifies me."

Gilraen yearned to pull her son from that chair and be about their business, away from word games and unmerited scorn. Instead, she set to work finding the rightful spot to replace his book. The invitation had been to join, not reign.

Her son was more indulgent, or he pretended. "Right. So, did you go on the rest of the way without us then?"

Noiselessly, Elladan sighed. "I will not speak of that to you."

"Fine," Estel huffed, "but Master Elrond said I can go along as we would have. I can, just not yet. He said fourteen is too young." There followed a silence in which even Estel appeared uncomfortable and at a loss to help. Suddenly he said, "How about a story?"

"I do not wish to speak of my mother."

Estel shrugged. "What do you wish to speak of?"

When Elladan laughed low and hollow at that, Gilraen took out a map of no interest to ignore from such a vantage that let her oversee and hear this exchange.

"Very well, a story!" He clapped once, so like and yet unlike his father, as a familiar song sung with changed words.

"Once long ago, there came the greatest of great wars, in which fell the darkest of dark lords, and the lands forever changed. Of two heroes deserving reward for their heroic heroics, one became a mortal king of mortal men in realms renewed, and the other a deathless descendent of dead kings in faded memory."

Almost Gilraen dared hope his drunken tongue would slip. Throwing a book to silence him was a low task she would take upon herself at dire need, alas.

"Such was the way of things for all that Age, at the ending of which arose the last united army against a lesser dark lord who fell after a shorter siege seized victory wearily." His breath caught. She glanced over the upside down map. He swallowed hard, looking as one whose eyes refuse to focus, and continued with a distant voice.

"So dark, so bleak. Sometimes I think I was there, doomed there, lost there. Thus is the power of elvish minstrels. But I was not there, not with those sad harpers singing wrongly whose realm was last and fair and free. Neither dwelt I in his heart or mind when the call went up, up with the highest of high and unreachable hopes. He never told me. I dreamt it. 'Favored one, favorite one, wilt thou not takest up the crown?' No. No, he did not think of this son."

The spell broke --visibly yet not so, as sheer glass breaking-- and Gilraen stared overtly as Elladan gasped for breath and shuddered. Sweat beaded upon his brow, and he blinked rapidly, a look of fear and awe come over his paled face. Mouth agape, Estel froze half-raised from his chair; from him she might have heard, "Mother?" and went to take his arm.

Slowly, normalcy returned, sooner for some than others. A wind turned the pages of books lying open somewhere; birds cooed outside. Elladan passed a hand over his eyes and emptied the bottle of its final swallow. After a moment, he pointed the glass at Estel, who watched him uneasily. "Do you still melt those dyed candles over these?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

The Elf-man rested his head back, fingers caressing the grooves worn in the wooden armrest from long use. They had the same hands, Gilraen noticed, father and son.

"Estel, I am weary, but it is soon mealtime, which Elrond will observe. Get you gone so I may rest, and take that basket."

Her son turned at once and walked the faster. In the hall, he risked hushed speech, "I was glad to see him safely home, but--" he frowned and gave his head a vigorous shake. "Well, what a very odd story! Father does it better, and more to my liking."

Gilraen hugged Estel to her side as they walked, leaving behind the son of Elrond who would never be King.

"We cannot all be so blessed."

*******