The Third Age - 2935

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Gilraen was late, and saw dismayed that Elrond stood in the courtyard ahead, waiting beside her son. She hurried across the square. "Pardon me, lord, excuse my lateness, my final chore for the day, all I needed was some paper, would you believe the shelf broke, fell, buried my chronicle, ahh--" she quieted for lack of breath and a cramp in her side.

Smiling, Elrond shook his head. "You misunderstand." When he made a gesture with the hand Estel did not hold, Gilraen turned around.

After a moment two riders became visible in the distance. They emerged now from the trees' shade to cross the meadow. She had not heard that they were expected, but recognized the identical steeds and attire of Elladan and Elrohir.

"Do you see them now?" Elrond had picked up her son, whose face was drawn with concentration.

"Oh yes, but I cannot tell them apart. Not from here."

Gilraen smiled at his optimism. She doubted if he remembered them at all, leastwise which was which, being only two years old when he last saw them, and briefly. Even for her own part, the brethrens' appearance gave her pause once they rode up and dismounted: they seemed refreshed and cheerful, their gear unsullied. Not the condition in which she would expect them to return, after years in the Wild.

While they exchanged greetings with their father, Gilraen watched and listened carefully, failing in that short time to tell them apart herself. When one turned towards her, she said simply, "Welcome home." Receiving an embrace in return, she suspected that this was Elrohir.

He stepped back, smiling. "Greetings and well met! We brought letters, but give us a while to settle in, and I shall retrieve those addressed to you."

"For me? From where? Oh, you must have passed through the Angle!"

"Yes, and we return from a sojourn in Lothlórien, where Telmoth shall dwell for a while still." He cleared his throat and said haughtily, "'Since Gilraen keeps Elrond's house well in hand', as she said. Although she was not so assured that she did not compose a list of reminders for you!" He laughed, silencing suddenly, his eyes drawn downwards. "Well, hullo, and who might this young man be?"

The moment Elrond seemed solely targeted by these oncoming strangers, Estel had wiggled down to his own feet and disappeared behind his mother. Now he nodded frantically as she urged him to come out from her skirts.

Elladan turned with his father to join in coaxing the young one. "Hmm, he is handsome. I think me this is some Elf-prince, perhaps from a wooded realm."

Estel had since hidden himself away again, but could not leave these errors uncorrected. "No, I am Dúnadan, from the Sea," he asserted in a voice muffled by fabric and his mother's giggles.

"Ah, as I might have guessed. That is, if I could see you."

They waited, until a flushed face peeked out at them. Wide eyes peered at each twin before Estel dashed straight between them, crying, "Oh, father, it is worse than their portraits, they even sound alike!"

Elrond picked him up. "Maybe, but unlike their portraits, these two may answer to their names. Shall we try? This one is Elrohir."

Braver in his foster father's arms, Estel called on the Elf-man, and introduced himself. Elrohir made conversation at a distance, venturing closer once Estel was comfortable. Soon he held the boy's hand as they spoke together in Sindarin. By then standing farther away, Elladan said little more, and would not be persuaded to remain after deciding to leave -- to tend his and his brother's horse, he insisted. Gilraen wondered.

***

By suppertime, Estel's shyness had vanished, and he was acting much himself as the household sat down to the evening meal. From the following talk, Gilraen gathered that Elrond's sons had spent the majority of their time away in Lothlórien; which, as explained for her sake, was to many of Rivendell a home away from home.

Mention of this far-away place incited many questions from her son, as did most other topics. She feared that the Elves would grow impatient having news they yearned to hear interrupted by details already known to them; none complained, even as Elrohir kept them waiting a third time while he embellished another tale for Estel's amusement.

"Why go hunting in Mirkwood for giant spiders? Some live right here at home," said her son. "I killed one myself once, look here, it was this big, really!"

"hrm..." Elrohir covered his mouth --and laughter-- as if thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he considered Estel's fingers held a couple of inches apart. "A big spider, that. Ah, but Mirkwood is renowned also for its hunting songs, which even the trees will sing, thereby filling Elf-foes with dread. Elladan, let us recite one!"

Gilraen judged that Elladan was disinclined to partake, but Elrond replied first, "Spider-slaying ditties, I deem, should be saved for daylight."

Elrohir nodded with understanding. "Oh, of course. Another time, Estel." He quenched his thirst, and sat back with a sigh. "Back to tidings then-- only, where was I?"

"Beside the point even then," said Elladan, followed by some others' laughter. He turned to Ronduir, who had earlier asked a question never answered. "You wanted to know when we last trod the High Pass, before my brother mistook this table for the Hall of Fire."

Sitting nearer to Elrohir, Gilraen saw that he raised his eyes at his brother before turning towards her son, who sat yawning next to him. "Such plain talk is not for everyone," he quietly agreed.

"I cannot remember where the High Pass is. Should I know?"

Arranging a few items on the table, Elrohir said, "Let us say that this cup is Rivendell, and this twine the High Pass; we shall use this knife as the Misty Mountains and point it north."

Estel looked up from his nodding and sighed after a pause; apparently the conversation had become no more interesting to him. "I should have liked to hear a spider-slaying ditty, even at nighttime." He walked the distance of Elrohir's makeshift map with his fingers. "Where is Mirkwood?"

"That should be Elladan over yonder, for it is as gloomy."

Gilraen was grateful that her son missed the joke, and that Elrond provided a changed subject by inquiring towards the letters. His son winced and glanced apologetically at Gilraen.

"Ah! I meant to bring them. Instead, I have not even unpacked. And here the night is almost through already -- where has the day gone? Well, no matter, I shall go fetch them now."

Gilraen said, "Not for my sake, please, sit and enjoy what little of the evening remains. I should be off to put my son to bed." Estel straightened to protest, immediately betrayed by another yawn. "If you've yet to order your things, would I find you still awake within the hour? Let me come to your door then."

Eventually Elrohir agreed. "I admit that I am weary. Very well; one less chore for me tonight. Thank you."

Hearing this, Estel pulled on her skirt. "Oh, I'm weary, too, mother."

Picking him up, Gilraen gave her goodnight to the household, and on the walk to her room, considered how she might convince Elrohir to popularize hand-washing likewise.

***

"Didst thou hear? The boy calls him father now."

Gilraen stopped abruptly in the stairwell. The voice --one of Elrond's sons-- came from the hall above. She could not tell which direction he walked.

More distant, a calmer voice said, "Aye, I heard, and I think tis not my business, or thine."

"Maybe. Yet I bemoan vows made evanescent, or memory so selective that--"

The closing of a door interrupted the rest. Sitting down on the stairs, Gilraen considered what to do. Which twin said what, or made that any difference? Among other things, she wondered if of all those that Elrond has harbored, her son had been singled out, or if Elrond had treated others as his fosterlings likewise and the brethren were ever indifferent or resentful.

"Well, if my business is not theirs, then theirs is not mine," she grumbled and stood, resolved to proceed. At worst by coming so soon, they might suspect she had heard their talk; in which case, at least they might be more careful thereafter. Suppose Estel heard such talk! To give fair warning, she was not quiet crossing the hall, having herself no desire to hear more.

One of two doors ahead opened before she arrived. Elrohir stood at the threshold to welcome her inside. Despite his smile, she thought he seemed less at ease than he had during supper. "Please come in, but I'm afraid we only just arrived. Your son must fall asleep quickly, or else we tarried getting here. Make yourself comfortable while I sort through this stack -- it should not take long."

He went to a table, and seeing the 'stack' she would sooner name a paper hillock, Gilraen wished to have stayed a few moments longer on the stairs, or better, in her own room. She took one of two seats before a fireplace, the only thing in the fallow and too-tidy room that felt alive.

Elladan sat alone by the window --he bowed his head when their eyes met-- with the goblet of wine he had held throughout the evening still in hand. He drank little, but seemed to sip the draught to curb his tongue, maybe when what he would say others cared not to hear. He took a drink now, and Gilraen looked away, ordering her imagination to quit.

"Bah, what a nuisance I am to keep you." Elrohir was shuffling parchment with declining gentleness. "Gilraen, sorry, won't be but another minute. See, you should have let me deliver them to you after all. Would have served me right, forgetting to bring them to supper, and being so disorganized here."

"Already you have taken those letters across many miles. I would not have you carry them one step further." She added, "And there is no hurry." Yet in truth, she strove not to leave Estel sleeping by himself for long: he had been known in the past to venture out on his own, should he wake alone. More than once, he had made his way to Elrond's own quarters, never able no offer convincing reasons why he might have thought to find his mother there.

"Does your son not wait for you, lady?"

Gilraen started, looking towards Elladan at once. The inquiry correlated too exactly with her thoughts to be coincidence, or comfortable. Before she could speak, Elrohir inserted, "See, I know there were two at least, maybe more. Elladan, did we keep separate those we brought for Gilraen? Ha! Here they are!"

Despite his brother's attempt at distraction, Elladan had not so much as flinched, and thereby, neither could Gilraen. "I know what you think of me," he said. "You're wrong."

"Brother." The spell broke at last. Gilraen blinked, looking from one twin to the other. Elrohir's voice held a warning as he continued, "Say no more." Their matching gazes locked, and held, until Elladan returned his attention to the window and his wine.

Elrohir came to Gilraen, smiling unnaturally again as he gave her the letters. "More than I recalled: four in total. My apologies for the wait. Next time I shall bring them to your door and not be convinced otherwise, though you were kind to spare me the walk tonight. We rode from the Angle in only two days." Gilraen could not get to the door fast enough, and hardly noticed that Elrohir followed her into the hall. He said lower, "Please accept my apology on behalf of my brother. There is too much wine in him just now, but he meant no harm."

His goblet had only been refilled twice that Gilraen saw; hardly enough to affect one of Elladan's stature. She said, "Think nothing of it." And for her part, she could think of nothing else until sleep overcame her late into the night.

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Notes:
From ROTK Appendix A: '...and Elrond took the place of [Aragorn's] father and came to love him as a son of his own.' Canonically, Elrond may or may not have assumed the role of father for other Heirs of Isildur.

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