Welcome to History Lessons: The Third Age.  This story is about half written and fully outlined, so I think I have enough to begin posting. I hope to post about a chapter a week.  Its a bit melancholic, but I have decided that this is appropriate.  The cast of characters is large, but the primary POV will be Elrond's.  This story is caught in what Verlyn Flieger in her book 'Splintered Light' calls 'the vision of hope and the experience of darkness' - a fitting description not only of Tolkien's work at large, but the experience of the elves at this time.  Please do let me know your thoughts - a little encouragement is most welcome.

Chapter 1: The Most Hardy of Living Men

“Then Aragorn, being now the Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother to dwell in the house of Elrond; and Elrond took the place of his father and came to love him as a son of his own. But he was called ‘Estel’, that is ‘Hope’...” The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen, Appendix A, The Lord of the Rings

Imladris
Early Spring, 3017 Third Age

Elrond entered the darkened room silently, passing through the sitting room where sword, bow and quiver were set with care in the corner that had housed them whenever the occupant was in residence.  No clothing was scattered about, nor were any personal items loose on the table beside the comfortable chair.  Ithil’s light bathed the sleeping chamber in a soft glow, softening also the grim face of the one who lay sleeping upon the bed.

Moving closer, Elrond touched lightly upon Aragorn’s brow, and beneath his touch even the remaining wrinkle of tension fled from the man’s face. He was deep in sleep, completely relaxed, ‘boneless’ he would call it, though Elrond had oft wondered how the term could be used to describe one such as Aragorn.  He had soaked long in a tub of hot water, essential oils drifting pleasantly to soothe and relax his mind.  His favorite foods had appeared without request, for Cook did not forget the favorites of any of the House’s children. Well fed and clean, he had fallen upon his bed and drifted instantly into sleep.

Arwen had sat quietly by his side, having arranged his bath and brought wine to accompany his meal, making not even a demand of conversation upon the one she loved. His weariness ran to the core of his being, and she wanted nothing more than to ease him. For this Elrond knew Aragorn was grateful; Imladris remained the one place, he said, where he could safely let down all guard and allow his body and mind respite from the hard life he led.

Elrond’s fingers slid across the damp strands of hair, smoothing them away from Aragorn’s face. Though he wished to know more of his foster son’s thoughts, he would take no liberties in learning what lay beneath the surface of his mind. He had heard enough in the brief report that Aragorn and Mithrandir had provided before falling into their beds: That the ring found by Bilbo was likely the One Ring.  Events were being set in motion, Elrond knew, that could not be stopped or reversed.  Evil had been growing in the lands to the east, causing him to call Arwen home from Lothlórien, for soon not even the woods protected by her grandparents would be safe.  He expected that Aragorn’s story, when he was able to tell it, would show that time was growing short.

He finally sat on the edge of the bed, straightening the sheet over Aragorn. Hovering, his sons would call it, for that is what he did when one of his children was in such a state. He felt a soft touch upon his shoulder, and reached his own hand up to cover the deceptively delicate hand of his daughter.  She pressed her lips to his fingers, and he felt a pain deep within his heart. If indeed the One Ring was found, the events that he had long ago foreseen would soon come to pass. They would rise up against Shadow one last time; if they were defeated all would be lost for Men and Elves and all the free peoples of Middle-earth.  Yet if they won, he would lose his daughter. He felt her comforting presence surround him through her mere touch, and he knew that she sensed his sorrow.

“Never have I seen him so worn and weary,” said Elrond quietly, turning his own and his daughter’s thoughts back to Aragorn.  “Five hundred miles and nearly fifty days he drove Gollum north from the swamps to the Realm of the Woodland Elves. He pushes himself beyond what the hardiest of men might endure.”

“Each time he has come home to Imladris you have thought he appeared the weariest you have seen him,” replied Arwen.  “Yet events are building to a climax, where he must rise above all he has been and all he has accomplished to become who he was born to be. His road will not be easy.”

“The road of the Dúnedain has never been easy,” replied Elrond gravely. “He has never shirked from his duty or his birthright, since he has known of it. In time, he will face his greatest test.”

“Come, Adar, and sit beneath the stars with me, and tell me again of your first meeting with the child Aragorn,” she coaxed.

Elrond stood as she pulled gently yet persuasively upon his hand, and they walked on to the balcony that connected the family rooms together. There they found Elladan and Elrohir, recently returned from the north where they had aided the Rangers in clearing a den of orcs that had been preying upon travelers.  Both stood as their father and sister approached, and Elrohir took Arwen’s hand and seated her next to him.

Elrond could not help but smile at what appeared to be a gesture of love, for he saw the look of utter contentment cross Elrohir’s face when Arwen pulled him near and began to massage his head and neck.   He saw the bemused look upon Elladan’s face, and motioned for his son to draw near to him, that he might perform the same service upon his still stiff muscles.

As the twins drifted into a pleasant state of waking dreams, Elrond began to speak.

“When word came that Arador had died in the trollshaws, unease settled upon me, for his death was untimely and Arathorn had thought he had many years of his father’s leadership left to guide the Dúnedain. Arathorn had taken Gilraen to wife only a year earlier, and she was great with child when their Chieftain was killed.  Gilraen’s mother had supported the marriage, despite Gilraen’s youth, for in her foresight she had seen that the line must be continued; that there should be no delay.

“I feared for Arathorn, though I did not know why. Your brothers attached themselves to Arathorn’s patrol when he resumed his duties after Aragorn was born. Elladan sent word to me that it seemed as if all evil things had become attracted to that patrol, and each time they rode out heightened danger awaited them. Attacks by goblins and orcs, the increasing forays of trolls into Dúnedain protected lands – yet Arathorn would not send his Men where he would not go himself.

“For nearly a year this continued, and then the attacks lessened and a hard winter settled upon the mountains. Your brothers came home for a few months, while Arathorn returned home to Gilraen and Aragorn. They rode out together that spring, but were ambushed. Arathorn was slain by an orc arrow to his eye, and he died in Elrohir’s arms.”

Elrond saw a tear slide down Elrohir’s face. His son had taught Arathorn to ride and hunt as a young man during his fostering years in Imladris; to hold him in his death had brought the circle of his life to a close, and the futility of it had grieved them all. Arathorn had died a young man by Dúnedain standards.

“We knew then that Arador’s and Arathorn’s deaths were not chance occurrences, but that the servants of evil were seeking Isildur’s heir, seeking the heir of the one who taken the ring from Sauron, and we feared for Aragorn. . . ”

~ ~ ~* * * ~ ~ ~

Spring, 2933 Third Age

Elrohir gritted his teeth and with an anguished sob, pulled the arrow from Arathorn’s eye.  He was glad he had waited so long to do it, for he did not know if he could bear to see the damage he would have done on a wound still fresh. He cut a length from his undertunic and tied it over Arathorn’s head, covering his damaged eye.  He did not want Gilraen to see the horrible disfigurement.  The sounds of battle receded and Arathorn’s men began to return, some injured and others carrying one who had been killed.  Elrohir felt his twin’s hand on his shoulder and he clasped his own over it, accepting and receiving comfort, before they turned to the rest of the Dúnedain.  Grief was etched deep into their grim faces.  Elrohir released Arathorn’s body to Halbarad, now the leader of the Dúnedain, and turned his attention to the injured.

They camped that night a few hours to the south, in a site they often used.   Arathorn’s body was covered and set at the edge of the camp, and every one of the Men stood over or knelt at his side for a time that evening.  Elrohir had just sunk to the ground in front of Elladan, when he heard one of the Men speak.

“The hope of our people now rests on a two-year-old child,” he said mournfully.

“The rule of Chieftain has passed from father to son in an unbroken line from Elendil. Yet it may be in our time that the line ends, and the hope of the Dúnedain perishes forever,” replied another. “We must see that Aragorn survives to adulthood.”

“I do not believe that Arador’s and Arathorn’s deaths are coincidence or bad fortune.  I believe the enemy is seeking Elendil’s heir. In time they will find Aragorn,” predicted Halbarad soberly.

“Let us take him to Imladris now,” said Elladan softly.  “Elrond will keep him safe, and hidden.”

Silence fell on the camp, as the Men considered his words. Elrohir’s thoughts raced, and he felt the calming influence of his twin on his mind.  This will be no fostering, he thought. The enemy must not even know of the child’s existence.

The twins were silent as the Rangers discussed this.  Enough of them were present to make such a decision, and Halbarad was now their acting chief. Halbarad finally stood and regarded them gravely. “I will tell Gilraen she must do this,” he said resolutely.  He turned to the other Men. “We must remove the child’s name from our conversations and continue as if he does not exist. It is our best hope for his survival.”

* * *

“Elrond, your sons approach.” Elrond nodded to Erestor, capped his ink and stacked the papers he had been reading.  “They bring guests: a female rides with Elladan and Elrohir carries a child.”

“Ensure that a room is prepared for them,” he instructed needlessly, for he was sure Erestor had already done so.

He greeted them in the courtyard, where Glorfindel was lifting the woman from the horse.  Her eyes widened at the sight of Glorfindel, and she did not return his greeting, seemingly unable to speak.  Her gaze then drifted to the house and grounds, where lanterns were casting a warm glow about the front porch and courtyard, and Elrond thought she might swoon, but Elladan caught her arm and spoke calmingly into her ear. 

Glorfindel helped Elrohir slide from the horse, toddler in hand, but the child was less awed by Glorfindel’s presence.  He immediately reached out one chubby hand and took a firm hold on the warrior’s golden hair, pulling it to him. Unfortunately for Glorfindel, Elrohir did not realize Aragorn had claimed a prize.

“Elrohir!” called Glorfindel, his head tilting as Aragorn gleefully pulled as Elrohir stepped forward.

Elrohir stopped, unable to hide his grin as he pried Aragorn’s fingers from the golden braid. “No, Aragorn,” he said firmly when the child attempted to regain his pretty toy. Aragorn subsided immediately, burying both hands in the front of his tunic, but he smiled coyly at Glorfindel.

“Adar, this is Lady Gilraen and her son, Aragorn,” said Elladan as he guided Gilraen forward.

“Lady Gilraen,” greeted Elrond formally, bowing his head slightly.   “Please come inside; a warm fire awaits.”

She looked upon him, a bewildered expression on her face, and sorrow filled him. Word had come of Arathorn’s death that morning and Imladris was in mourning.  A young bride and mother, now a young widow in shock, she had been uprooted from her family and friends in her time of greatest need and sorrow, and Elrond knew without his sons needing to speak that the Dúnedain had sent their future Chieftain into hiding to keep him safe.

Elrond stepped forward and took Gilraen’s arm in his, unobtrusively but purposefully using his touch to calm and soothe her. She leaned heavily upon him, and he did not take her to rest by the fire in the Great Hall, but followed Erestor to the rooms appointed for her.  The suite was in the family quarters, and Elrond nodded his approval at Erestor for also reading the situation correctly.  Elves were soundlessly building up a fire and making the bed, bringing flowers from the greenhouse and hot water for tea.  Elrond eased Gilraen’s cloak from her shoulders and gently pushed her into a comfortable chair by the fire. He poured her a cup of hot tea, but although she took it, she did not drink but merely stared at the cup.  She sat there dumbly for a few minutes, while Elrond issued directives to the house staff.   He heard the cup clatter back to the tray and turned just as she looked up in fright.  “Where is Aragorn?” she cried, rising to her feet.

“With my sons,” he reassured her, again taking her by the arm to steady her.  “I just heard him laughing with Elrohir a moment ago. He is well.”

She crumpled in his arms then, a soft cry issuing from her lips followed by sobs of grief. He pulled her to him, holding her to his chest and stroking her back and hair. She cried until exhaustion overtook her, and Elrond laid her carefully upon her bed. Placing one hand upon her head and the other her breast, he pushed her deep into sleep.

At a motion of his hand, two female elves appeared, carefully undressing the mortal woman and clothing her in a comfortable nightgown, then covering her for a night’s rest.  They would sit in shifts with her through the night, not wishing for her to awake alone with her grief in a foreign place.

Elrond went in search of Elladan and Elrohir, following the sound of childish laughter to the kitchens. There he found Aragorn happily eating and chattering with Elrohir, while Elladan spoke quietly to Glorfindel and Erestor. He sat down beside Elladan.

“I am sorry we could not send word that we were bringing Gilraen and Aragorn here,” said Elladan.  “Halbarad also felt it was important that they leave immediately, and he and Gilraen’s father along with several others, escorted us to the borders of Imladris.  She is heartbroken, Adar.  She had only a few hours to prepare, not even seeing Arathorn buried before we left.”

“She is in shock,” agreed Elrond. “I believe that you did right. I am not surprised that Halbarad also thought so.”

Elrond watched as Elrohir played with Aragorn, coaxing him to eat while asking the toddler his opinions on many things.

“I am reminded of watching him with Arwen,” said Elladan softly.  “She adored him and rightly so, for he treated her as if all her thoughts and words were of the utmost importance. Aragorn slept some on the ride here, but when he was awake Elrohir kept him occupied.  When Gilraen’s father departed, he lifted her before me on my horse, but spoke not a word to us. He just rode off into the darkness. Aragorn did not notice his departure and that was as he wished; he did not want Aragorn to think he was leaving him.  He reminded Gilraen of how much he loved her and commended courage to her for he knew this exile would be long and difficult, but reminded her that the Dúnedain were entrusting their hope to her and the Elves. She is young to bear so heavy a burden.”

Elrond covered Elladan’s hand with his own and squeezed, but he had no words of wisdom to offer.  The choices had been made and though harsh, they were necessary.  “We will help her to bear it. The child will need a new name, at least until he is ready to take his place among his people. Too many visitors pass through Imladris for us to risk a slip of the tongue.  He is the hope of the Dúnedain; Estel we will call him.”

Elladan smiled, but sorrow darkened his eyes.  “Gilraen has lost much this night, Adar, and now the identity of her son.  She will agree, for Halbarad explained that this might be necessary, but I sorrow for her.”

Elrohir washed Aragorn’s hands and face with a warm cloth, then lifted the toddler in his arms. He sat next to Elrond with Aragorn in his lap. “This is my adar, Elrond,” he told the child.

Elrond could not help but draw Elrohir near and kiss him lightly on the head.  “Hello, child,” he greeted Aragorn.  “I think you were hungry. You ate well,” he complimented, motioning to the empty plate.

“Mama says I always hungry,” agreed Aragorn, laughing and appearing pleased by his good behavior. He quieted suddenly, sticking his thumb in his mouth and looking around him for a moment. “Where Mama?”

“Your mama is sleeping,” answered Elrond, playfully tugging the thumb from the child’s mouth, which made him laugh again.  “Would you like to see your mama and kiss her goodnight?”

Aragorn nodded, and without any hesitation let Elrond lift him from Elrohir’s arms.  As he walked from the room, Elrond heard Erestor say, “I win, Elladan. I have known your father much longer than you.  No child has ever cried or declined to be carried by him.”  Elrond could not help but smile. He would ask Elladan later what he had lost this time.

Holding his finger to his lips, a sign the child evidently understood, Elrond entered the chamber where Gilraen slept.  He sat on the side of the bed, carefully pulling the covers away from Gilraen’s face that Aragorn might see her.  The toddler bent over and kissed her cheek, then patted her hand.  When she did not respond, he frowned.

“Your mama is very tired,” said Elrond softly, drawing the toddler’s head to his own shoulder.   He thought about settling Aragorn into the bed next to Gilraen, but knew that she needed uninterrupted sleep and Aragorn was unlikely to allow that. “Would you like to stay with me a while longer?”

Thumb securely back in his mouth, Aragorn finally nodded.

Elrond took him to the sitting room attached to his own chambers, finding the twins and Glorfindel already present. He sat down with Aragorn in his lap and was a little surprised when the child sat so quietly, content to watch everyone around him.   The door opened and Erestor entered, a large box in hand and clothing folded over his arm.  He sat down adjacent to Elrond, set the box on the floor before him and then laid the clothing out on his lap. Lifting a short white gown, he held it up for Elrond to see.

“I am impressed you found something in such good condition of that size,” said Elrond as he fingered the gown.  “This will fit Estel quite well.”

As he spoke the name Estel, he hugged Aragorn, associating the word with the child. When Aragorn looked at him, Elrond said, “You are my Estel. Let us see what else Erestor has found for you.”

Elrond leaned over, digging through the box that Erestor had brought, and pulled out a cloth rabbit. He offered it to Estel, who immediately hugged it tight.  He chose a wooden toy next, an odd shaped thing with different shaped openings.  Grabbing a handful of wooden shapes, he showed Estel how one fit through one of the openings.  Estel took a peg and tried to push it into the same opening, and then sat up straight, curious, when it didn’t fit.  A moment later he had slid to the floor, taking various pegs and trying different openings.

“He is a very bright child,” commented Erestor.  “Watch how he tries each one based on what worked or failed the time prior.”

Elrond watched Estel play, his mind considering the implications of having a bright child growing up with a hidden identity in Imladris.  How would they raise him so that he did not question too much, yet would be prepared to handle his heritage when the time came? “He will need to be extraordinarily secure,” he murmured.

“Adar?”

Elrond turned at the sound of Elladan’s voice, meeting his son’s questioning eyes.  He smiled in reassurance, but avoided answering.  He paid little attention to the talk around him, instead watching Estel and allowing his mind to wander along paths of memory and recalled prophecy. Eventually the child’s eyes began to droop and he leaned against Elrond’s leg, relaxing and nearly falling over as sleep overcame him. Elrond caught him easily. He deftly undressed the toddler and pulled the nightshirt over his head, then cradled him against his chest.  Estel nuzzled against the soft fabric of his robe and then relaxed into deep sleep.

“I had a child’s bed moved into the room attached to his mother’s. Would you like to put him to sleep there?” asked Erestor, as he placed a soft blanket over Estel.

Elrond smiled, noting that Erestor had not offered to put the child to bed himself.   Erestor enjoyed children, but he preferred them out of the thumb sucking stage. Elrond could not help but recall how Celebrían would tease Erestor with threats of leaving the very young twins in his care.  It was enough to bring a look of slight panic into their friend’s eyes.

“No, I would not want him to wake alone, and I have set Gilraen into a deep sleep. I will keep him with me,” he answered.

Elrond noted the reaction of his sons. Elrohir’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought while Elladan’s widened in surprise.  He knew what they were thinking: others could sit with Estel during the night; the elves already watching over Gilraen would be happy to do so. Ignoring their questioning looks, he rose. “Sleep well, Elladan, Elrohir. You have also had a long and trying day.  Good eve, Glorfindel, Erestor,” he said, then walked through the door into his own chamber.

He pulled back the covers from his bed and laid Estel there, then prepared himself for sleep and lay down beside the child.  As Estel moved in his sleep, seeking something, Elrond pulled him close and felt the child snuggle against him.  Knowing some of the customs of the Dúnedain, he suspected the child was only recently weaned and still slept with his parents. Estel would take comfort in his presence. 

As he drifted on to the path of dreams, he could not help but think how right it felt to hold this child. In his dream, Celebrían appeared, and as he knew she would, she brightened visibly at the sight of the child in his arms. Fatherhood becomes you, she said as she linked her arm through his.  She had first said those words to him after seeing him with both of the twins in his arms for the first time.  He leaned over and kissed her, glad for these times when she seemed as present in dreams as she had been during her life in Imladris.

* * *

Elrond felt someone stir at his side, and it took him a moment to comprehend who was in his bed and why. Loneliness swept briefly over him as he counted again how many years he had slept without Celebrían at his side. He allowed himself a moment of remembrance of what he had lost, and a moment of hope for what he prayed would await him the day he landed in elvenhome: a wife restored, healed, and at peace, and himself complete again by having her at his side.

Turning his attention to the child sprawled out next to him, he pushed the unruly curls away from Estel’s eyes and then ran his hand down his arm, picking up the sturdy hand and examining each finger.  A sudden thought occurred to him: He had not asked if the child should have slept in swaddling, but the bedding was dry.   No sooner had he expended the thought when he felt a warm wetness spreading beneath his hand.

“Well, young Estel, I think I have been reminded of the most basic of parenting skills,” he said ruefully.  “And you slept through it. Celebrían would have thought of this, young one.  She would be laughing at me now, if she were here, for what she always referred to as my scholarly oversights.  In other words, my occasional lapse in practical sense.”

He gently shook Estel by the arm, but the toddler merely rolled over and pressed his wet body against Elrond, cuddling close.  Elrond could not help himself, and began to laugh.  Estel did awake then, his eyes widening in curiosity then fear, and finally some memory came to him and the fear left.  He sat up, pulling on his nightshirt uncomfortably.  “I wet,” he proclaimed, looking at Elrond as if he had somehow caused this thing.

“You are wet, Estel,” agreed Elrond.  “Would you like to become wetter and cleaner?  How do you like baths?”

“Mama heat water and fill tub!” he agreed happily.

“I think Mama might appreciate some of the amenities of Imladris,” mused Elrond.  “Come.” He pulled Estel to his feet, stripped him of his wet clothing, set him on the floor and held out his hand.  Estel wrapped his fist about Elrond’s finger and allowed himself to be led to the bathing chamber.  Elrond filled the bathing tub with warm water, then stripped and stepped in himself. He was just reaching for Estel when the child flung himself into the pool.  “Go swimming!”

Elrond lifted him so his head was above water, watching as the fearless child sputtered and coughed, the water being over his head clearly an unexpected thing.  He began to jump on Elrond’s knees, bending his knees to go underwater on purpose and coming up with a gleeful squeal. “Ai, you are going to be a handful, Estel.”

“I Aragorn,” replied Aragorn. “Your name?”

“I am Ada Elrond, and you are my Estel,” replied Elrond purposefully.

Estel looked at him seriously, clearly confused by the names, but he did not dwell on the topic. “Where Mama?”

“Mama is sleeping, but she will want to see you as soon as she awakes.  Let me wash you so you smell and look nice,” he replied, already soaping a soft cloth and scrubbing at the little boy.

Estel played happily, splashing in the water, and after Elrond dried him off he ran naked back into Elrond’s chamber.  Elrond was pleased to find the clothing Erestor had acquired stacked on a chair near the door, but ignored it as he dressed himself and brushed his hair.  Estel was running in circles around him, singing and laughing, and daring Elrond to catch him.   When he was ready, he merely held out an arm and scooped the child off his feet and upside down, wincing at Estel’s squeal of delight as he carried him to his clothing.

“Do you wear swaddling during the day?” he asked.

“No!” cried Estel, aghast.  “I am big boy!”

“Of course you are.  I knew it was a silly question.  Perhaps we will swaddle you at night, though?”

“Mama says yes,” sighed Estel.

“Then Mama is wise, and we will do what Mama says,” answered Elrond as he quickly dressed him, glad that part of his parenting skills had not departed.  “Let us go see if your mama is awake and if she is hungry.”

“I hungry!” cried Estel, clapping his hands.

Elrond took Estel by the hand, exiting his chambers and walking down the hall to the room where Gilraen slept.  He knocked lightly, and entered when Liriel, one of the elves who had sat the night at Gilraen’s side, opened it silently.  Gilraen sat up as he entered, looking as lost and dazed and as young as a child at that moment.

“Mama!” cried Estel, racing to climb up on the bed next to her.

“Aragorn,” she murmured, wrapping both arms about him and burying her face in his still damp curls.   Holding her son seemed to give her purpose, and after taking a few deep breaths she looked up at Elrond.  “Thank you for caring for him, my lord.”

“Please, call me Elrond,” replied Elrond.  He did not like having to immediately speak to her of unpleasant things, but some things needed to be said sooner than later, and he decided purpose might also aid Gilraen in dealing with her grief.  “Liriel will help you to bathe and dress, and show you to the dining room. If you wish, Estel may stay with you or I can take him down to breakfast now.  After that, we should speak.”

“Estel,” Gilraen whispered, and her eyes filled with tears, and Elrond knew that she had grasped the significance of the word and why it was being used.  She trembled and hugged her son close, but again took a deep breath and sat up straight, meeting Elrond’s gaze solidly. “So be it. I think Estel would rather go with you now than wait for me to dress,” she decided, as he squirmed in her embrace, anxious to get down and play. 

Elrond held out his hand to Estel, who took it and then leapt from the bed to the floor, trusting that Elrond would not let him fall.  Elrond steadied him only a little, then nodded to Gilraen.  “I will see you later.  Take what time you need.”

“Bye, Mama.  Come fast!” Estel commanded as he skipped from the room at Elrond’s side. Elrond looked back as he closed the door, glad to see Liriel sitting at Gilraen’s side. She would need time and strength and a strong shoulder in these first days, and Elrond knew that there was none better in Imladris to provide that than Arwen’s childhood friend. He did not think there was a kinder or more empathetic elf in his house.

No sooner had he closed the door than Estel dropped his hand and raced off down the hall ahead of him.  Elrond saw the object of Estel’s attention, and knew despite Elrohir’s looks of surprise as the toddler ran smack into him, crying “I got you!”  that his son was not surprised in the least.  He swung Estel upside down and flung him over his shoulder.  “I think you are sorely mistaken, Estel.  It is obvious that I have you.”

Estel kicked and squirmed, Elrohir’s hand smacking him lightly on his rear causing a howl and giggles. “Clearly we need to establish that I am in charge,” growled Elrohir, sending Estel into another gale of giggles.

Elrond followed at a more sedate pace, nodding to Glorfindel when the elf fell into step with him.  “Well, it does bring back fond memories,” commented Glorfindel.

“Fond memories?” asked Elrond, but he knew what Glorfindel meant.

“Yes, we have a child in the house again. A child who will make noise and messes and mischief and liven up the house as we have not seen in millennia,” he answered. Elrond read between the words to what was really being said: we will all help to raise him; he is one of this house now.

Elrond smiled, then clapped his friend on the back.  “Thank you, Glorfindel.”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

“I recall that I was surprised by your actions,” remembered Elladan, tilting his head back to look up at Elrond. Elrond continued to massage the now relaxed muscles of his son’s neck, taking a rather silly pride in how Elladan could barely keep his eyes open. “We talked after you had taken Estel to bed, and concluded that you had decided to not only hide him, but raise him as your son.  You were careful to never call him Aragorn after that first meeting, and you never called yourself ‘father’ in the common tongue. You were Ada and he was Estel.”

Elrond sighed at the memory. “My decision was conscious and intentional, but still very difficult. I was blotting out his past, causing his memory of his father and family to fall away instead of teaching him to cherish those whom we had also loved.  We gave him so much love and attention that he fell into his new life easily.” He paused, closing his eyes. “Each moment that went by, when he did not ask about his papa or his grandpapa or grandmama, was like a dagger in Gilraen’s heart.  My heart ached for the pain that caused her.”

“She understood, Adar,” said Arwen softly. “Though you are right that her heart was broken and she never fully recovered.”

“She did give all her hope to the Dúnedain; she gave up all she was and all she had to do what was needed.  She also had no choice: her people expected this of her and she would no more shirk her duty than Aragorn would today,” replied Elrond. “Part of me is sorry she passed beyond the circles of this world before seeing Aragorn’s time come, for he very much wanted her with him; yet I also understand that her light had passed and she could shine brightly for him no more.”

 * * *

Elrond entered Aragorn’s room silently, a slight tug of concern leading him to check on this son who had now slept for nearly twenty-four hours straight.  He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand lightly on Aragorn’s head. Peace had entered this son’s mind during the night, his body finally rested and his mind restored.  Nudging at Aragorn’s thought gently, he pushed him into wakefulness.

“Father,” murmured Aragorn lightly, his eyes blinking open slowly. He stretched out long and lean on the bed, finally settling a smile on his foster-father.

“You have slept long,” said Elrond kindly. “I do not recall you ever being this worn before.” Aragorn grunted in reply, yawning and stretching again. “You need to eat and drink. Cook is busy preparing all of your favorite foods.”

“Cook should not go to so much trouble, but I know you will tell me it pleases him to do so,” replied Aragorn.  He sat up, and Elrond could not help but note how thin he was. “And then you would tell me that I am too thin, and I would be unable to disagree. Traveling with the creature Gollum was not conducive to eating or sleeping.”

“So I gathered,” replied Elrond dryly.  He moved to sit in a chair by the room’s small table as Elves entered bearing a platter of food.  For himself Elrond accepted only a cup of tea, but he watched with amusement and gladness as Aragorn ate like one would expect for a man who had subsisted on little for many days.

“Where is Gandalf?” he asked.

“He awoke late this morning and is speaking with Bilbo,” replied Elrond. “He is comparing details of what he learned from Gollum with Bilbo’s account of finding the ring.”

“He needs only to see the ring for final proof,” replied Aragorn gravely. “Mordor is aware now of The Shire and the name Baggins. If it is indeed the One Ring, it and its bearer are no longer safe there.” He sighed. “I must leave this afternoon.”

Elrond inclined his head in acknowledgment. Aragorn came seldom to Imladris, and his stays were usually short as his duties as chieftain and his workings with Gandalf consumed much of his time. “Elladan and Elrohir will ride out with you. They have chosen a new horse for you.”

Aragorn smiled gratefully.  “I will return for a longer visit soon, if possible,” he promised.

“Events have been set in motion that cannot be stopped,” replied Elrond. “Take all care, Aragorn son of Arathorn.  Your presence has long been hidden from Mordor, but if he learns of your existence, as he has long suspected, he will target you and you will be hunted as your fathers were before you.   You are the one person he fears as he seeks to regain what is his.”

Aragorn regarded him silently for a long moment. “I will take all care, my father.”

Arwen entered then, after knocking once on the door, and Elrond rose as she entered.  He kissed her as he stepped past her to the door, allowing them a moment alone before Aragorn departed.   He could feel the love that emanated from his daughter to this man she had pledged herself to, and he took comfort in knowing her devotion was real and sustaining. Only time would determine its end.

* * * * *

Special thanks to dawtheminstrel and Karri for beta reading this chapter.