Disclaimers: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters, settings, or plots. I just like to play in his sandbox. I also make no money off of any of this.

A/N: There is a slight deviation from canon in this story. Rather than having Arathorn slain when he was 'riding against the orcs with the sons of Elrond', I have assumed that Aragorn and Gilraen were with him and they were heading to Imladris to live for a time. In the Silmarillion it says 'In that house [the house of Elrond] were harboured the Heirs of Isildur, in childhood and old age, because of the kinship of their blood with Elrond himself…'. The quote continues, but this made me think that Aragorn would have been taken to Imladris for his own protection at some point, so why not when he was two? The twins are still there, acting as escort, but they were not out specifically to hunt orcs. I know that is not Tolkien's version, but I need things to happen a bit differently for this story to work. Therefore, this story can be considered slightly AU. I am also using a history created for Elladan and Elrohir by Cassia and Sio. I do have their permission to use Dehlfalhen and Glamferaen, which were their creations.

Please read and review. If you have any ideas for changes to the history of Middle-earth that you would like to suggest as the story progresses, please feel free to e-mail me at mistycracraft at yahoo.com and let me know what they are. If they fit well with other plot elements I have planned, I may use them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Two

Aragorn groaned as he shifted in his sleep. His bed seemed much harder than usual. Had he rolled out of bed and now slept on the floor? He rolled over and felt a rock dig into his shoulder. A rock? The incongruity of a rock being in his bed brought him abruptly awake, and he opened his eyes to find that he was staring into a canopy of trees, their bare branches covered with blossoms and the new leaves of early spring. Trees? Where was he and how had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his brothers' sitting room in Minas Tirith. Had he been kidnapped somehow? As he quietly tested his range of movement, he found that he was not bound in any way, and there were no injuries that he could feel. So what had happened after he fell asleep? Fragments of a dream drifted into his mind and his eyes widened as he remembered floating in a black void, arguing with a bodiless voice. Had that been real? It could not be, but then, how had he gotten here, wherever here was?

Closing his eyes once more so as not to bring attention to himself, he sifted through the memories in his mind of the night before and listened to the sounds of the camp around him. The encounter with the voice came back to him in full, and he considered for a moment the possibility that he was truly back in the past, in the body of another, with the chance to change the past by saving his father's life. Oddly enough, as he thought this, memories and knowledge that were not his own filtered into his mind. These thoughts told him that his name was Eradan, and that he was a young Ranger out on his first patrol with his father and a group of other Rangers. They were escorting their Chieftain and his family to Imladris so that young Aragorn could be raised in the safety of the elven refuge. Aragorn's breath caught in his throat as he realized that he was indeed in the body of another, and had access to some of the knowledge the other held. That knowledge would be needed to help him maintain that person's identity.

'*Hello?*' Aragorn thought. If there was another mind sharing this body, Aragorn needed to know if he could communicate with it. He needed to inform the young Ranger what was happening and reassure him that it was nothing he had ever intended to happen. There was no answering response. Aragorn was unable to feel any conscious thought or feelings other than his own, though the knowledge was there for him to access whenever he needed it. Aragorn remembered the voice saying that his presence would completely suppress the other mind. '*I'm sorry*', Aragorn thought to Eradan, knowing he would probably not hear or understand him. Knowing he needed to figure out what his full situation was and that he could not do that while pretending to be asleep, he opened his eyes and carefully sat up.

The sight that appeared in front of him was a familiar one, and he smiled slightly. He was in the midst of a Dúnedain camp that was just waking up for the morning before moving on. Those coming off of a watch were beginning to wake the others. Some men were preparing a small meal to break the night's fast in the middle of the small clearing, while others were gathering up some supplies and preparing the horses for the day's ride. Aragorn caught his breath again as he caught sight of Elladan and Elrohir sitting near the fire, helping with the meal. Were they here from his own time as well? Aragorn wanted to rush over to their side and ask them what they remembered from the night before, but his memory of the voice prompted him to be more cautious. The voice had told him that he would not find the brothers he knew in this place. In that case, the Elladan and Elrohir in the camp would be the ones that belonged in this time. They had, after all, spent centuries riding with the Dúnedain and attempting to eradicate all the orcs in Arda. If a young Ranger by the name of Eradan approached them and started babbling about events that had not yet taken place, surely all of the men in the camp would believe he was touched in the head and he would never be able to gain their trust. While the gift of foresight was not unheard of among the Dúnedain, not many would start claiming that they were not who they appeared to be and were visiting from the future, inhabiting the body of another. Aragorn was not about to do something so rash. He would watch his brothers and see if he could find some indication as to whether they were the twins of this time, or the twins of his time.

"Eradan!" Aragorn looked toward the person who had spoken the name of the body he now inhabited. It was apparently an automatic reflex for him to respond to this name. He looked up to find an older man with the dark hair and eyes of the Dúnedain watching him. He recognized the man as Eradan's father, Elendur.

"Yes, Adar?" he replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and pushing his blanket aside. Elendur crouched on the ground a few feet away, packing up his pack.

"It is past time for you to arise, my son." Elendur stared at him for a moment. "I realize that you are not yet used to being on patrol, but you must get up now and help us prepare to leave. Eat something first, then help the others pack up."

"Of course, Adar." Aragorn rose and quickly packed up his bedroll before heading over to the fire to grab a quick meal. He nodded in acknowledgment to the twins, who nodded back. Their expressions were serious, but not unkind. Making sure not to be caught, Aragorn sneaked a few glances in their direction, but could find no trace of the mischievous streak he knew the two had. It seemed at this point that the twins were not the ones he had grown up with and known as his brothers. He would watch further, but would keep his own counsel for now.

Doing as he had been ordered, he sat down on a fallen log to eat his meal and observed those around him. There was much activity taking place as they quickly got ready to leave the camp. A small boy darted from a tent set up off to the side, and he ran toward the men gathered around the fire. Elladan moved quickly, gathering the child up in his arms as he got too close to the fire.

"Aragorn!" came a voice from the tent. Aragorn could not help but turn around at the sound, and saw Gilraen striding quickly toward them, her dress swishing around her legs. "You know better than to take off like that, young man."

A small smile quirked Elladan's lips as he handed the squirming child over to her. "Your son, my Lady."

"Thank you, master elf," she nodded her head toward him, then turned and walked quickly back toward the tent, chiding the two year old softly.

Elladan sat back down beside his twin to finish his meal. "It looks like the latest addition to Isildur's line has just as much energy as every previous one." He nodded his head in the direction of the Chieftain's tent. "Imladris is about to become much less peaceful."

Elrohir smiled slightly. "Adar will find the noise comforting, I think. It reminds him of our own youth." He sobered then. "I know he misses having us around."

"I know," Elladan replied with a serious look on his face. "But there is still too much for us to do out here. It almost seems as if there are more orcs every year. We cannot stop yet." Elrohir nodded in reply before sighing softly and staring back at the plate of food in his lap.

Aragorn listened to their conversation without seeming to. That proved to him that these twins were not the ones he knew. While the Elladan and Elrohir that he knew had no love for orcs and had often gone out on patrols with the elves of Imladris or the Dúnedain, they had still spent a great deal of time in Imladris. The need to extinguish the life of every orc in Arda did not drive them as hard as it once had. The two in front of him still felt that drive.

Knowing he was truly alone here, he forced his mind to other topics. He shook his head in amazement at the thought that he had just seen himself as a two-year-old child. And his mother looked so young! This Gilraen wore none of the lines of worry or the mantle of grief that he remembered. The Gilraen he had just seen was young, vibrant and full of life. Not wanting to seem like he was lingering unnecessarily, Aragorn quickly finished his meal and set about helping to prepare the camp to leave. A few minutes later, Gilraen emerged from the tent once more with a firm grip on young Aragorn's hand. Aragorn felt his heart nearly stop in his chest as they were followed by a tall man with dark hair and grey eyes. 'Arathorn,' Aragorn's mind whispered. 'Father', he thought as he stared hard at this man he had no memory of. For a long moment, he could do nothing but watch the man as he led Gilraen and Aragorn over to the fire to take their meal while he then set about helping to dismantle and pack up his tent before taking his own meal. He spoke quietly with the twins while they lingered over the remains of their meal.

When the horse that Aragorn was loading supplies on to jostled him, Aragorn was shaken out of his musings. He quickly set about finishing up his task, hoping no one had noticed his fascination with Arathorn. Going over what he knew of the attack that had taken his father's life, Aragorn came to the conclusion that it would happen on this trip. Today or tomorrow, perhaps. He would have to stay on alert, and once the attack was sprung, would have to find and kill the orc that fired the fatal arrow before he had a chance to repeat history. Aragorn sobered at the thought that his father's life now rested in his hands. It was a responsibility he must live up to.

When all was ready, they mounted their horses and continued on their path toward Imladris. As they rode, Aragorn did his best to stay near the twins and Arathorn at the head of the men, without making himself conspicuous. He was content to simply be near his family and listen to them speaking to each other. A smile crossed his face as he heard little Aragorn babbling to his father, obviously saying something he found quite important, though no one else could understand a word he said. Aragorn kept a careful watch on the trees around them, expecting trouble around every bend.

They had been riding for several hours before he noticed the twins stiffen in a sign he knew well. Their keen sense of hearing had picked something up. He began looking around them, reaching down for the hilt of his sword as the twins signaled them to stop.

"Yrch!" Elladan hissed as he and Elrohir gestured at the path ahead of them. Aragorn and the other Rangers quickly came up and surrounded Arathorn, Gilraen and little Aragorn. They well knew their responsibility was to protect the Chieftain's family. Moments later, arrows rained down upon them from the surrounding forest. The Rangers drew their bows swiftly and returned fire, doing their best to make each arrow count. There was certainly no shortage of targets as the orcs poured out of the trees toward them. Soon, the orcs were upon them, and they put their bows aside, drawing swords instead.

Aragorn struck at the head of an orc that had gotten too close before wheeling his horse around and stabbing at an orc on his other side. He quickly got swept up in the battle, doing his best to protect his family as he concentrated on taking down each orc as quickly as possible. For quite some time, he was able to fight from horseback, urging the horse to strike out and hold off some of the orcs while he struck down others who were much closer to him. Aragorn saw when an opening appeared in the ranks of the orcs and Gilraen and little Aragorn were hustled away to be hidden and better protected. Nodding in approval, Aragorn took a moment to look away from his own enemies to scan the surrounding forest. He needed to find the orc archer that would fell Arathorn and prevent that from happening. His moment of inattention cost him as he felt a body impact his and drive him from his horse. Hitting the hard ground momentarily knocked the wind from his lungs, but Aragorn knew he did not have time to lie there and recover his breath. Taking his knife from his belt, he quickly stabbed upward, catching the orc across the neck, ending his life in one blow. Shoving the orc aside, he quickly rose to his feet, knowing that the longer he stayed down, the more likely it was that he would not be given the chance to rise again. Sensing an orc approaching from behind, he quickly turned and caught the upraised arm of the orc with his left hand, driving his sword into the orc's gut with his right. Dropping that orc, he pivoted and took on another orc that was approaching his side. For many moments, he was surrounded and it was all he could do to block the blows aimed at his head, midsection and legs. One orc got in a lucky blow while he was fighting another, and Aragorn felt fire line his ribs as the scimitar cut into his side. He swung his sword around in an arc, beheading that orc and turning back to the orc he had been in the middle of fighting, stabbing his knife into the orc's eye before turning and facing yet another orc attempting to stab a sword into his back. After several more minutes of intense fighting, he found himself in a lull. He pressed his arm tightly to his side, hoping to stem the bleeding, knowing he did not have time to do anything more yet. His fights were taking too long. Where was Arathorn?

Aragorn scanned the fighting around him until he saw Arathorn surrounded by no less than ten orcs. Making his way toward him, Aragorn studied the surrounding woods, knowing the fatal arrow would not come from one of the orcs closest to Arathorn. In that moment, he saw the orc step out of the shadows and raise it's bow toward Arathorn. Knowing he had only seconds, Aragorn stepped forward, pulling out his own bow and loosing an arrow aimed directly at the orc's head. It flew true and straight, burying itself in the orc's eye. But it came a split second too late. The orc had already released his own arrow. Aragorn was not about to let his father die, and thinking only of that, threw himself into the path of the arrow, dropping to the ground as he felt it bury itself deep into his shoulder. The agony of it took his breath away, and he lay still for a moment, trying desperately to regain some control over his body. The fighting raged around him for several moments more before one of the orcs noticed that the body on the ground was not quite dead. It loomed over Aragorn raising a scimitar dripping with blood over it's head to end Aragorn's life.

Aragorn grasped his sword with his good arm and stabbed upwards, catching the orc with a glancing blow to its side. The orc growled and brought the scimitar down toward Aragorn's head. Aragorn attempted to block the blow, but he was becoming weak from the pain and blood loss, and the orc easily brushed aside his attempt. Just as the orc was about to dispatch Aragorn to the next life, another sword swung down out of nowhere, decapitating the orc. The orc's body dropped on top of Aragorn, the weight of it driving the air out of Aragorn's lungs. Just before he blacked out, Aragorn looked up to see Arathorn standing over him, alive and well. 'I did it,' Aragorn thought. Then he surrendered to the darkness and knew no more.

-------------------------------------------------
A jolt of pain ripped Aragorn out of the comforting darkness. He was unable to help the yelp that escaped him as he felt a searing pain in his shoulder.

"Easy, now," a soft voice said as he felt pressure against his shoulder. The pressure triggered another wave of pain, and he groaned, trying to squirm away from the hands holding him down. "Just relax," the voice came again, and a gentle hand stilled his movements. "The worst is over. We have removed the arrow, but the wound still needs to be tended. Try to be still, and it will be over soon."

Recognition filtered through Aragorn's fuzzy mind, and he pried open his eyes to see the wavy form of his brother hovering over him. "It hurts, 'Ro," he whispered. "Saes, make it stop."

Elrohir looked up with surprise at his twin, who was placing stitches into the young man's shoulder. Very few of the Dúnedain could tell them apart, and even fewer ever called them by their nicknames. If any of them were to use a nickname, it would likely be the common nickname El, simply because they did not know which twin was which. Elladan's eyes had also widened in surprise at the young man's words. They did not even know this man well. He had only been introduced to them a few days ago, as this was his first patrol. The twins stared at each other for a moment before Elladan shook his head and turned back to treating the injury as Elrohir brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into the young man's eyes. "I will make a tea to dull the pain." He stood up and crossed over to the fire, where they had water boiling to sterilize instruments and to be used to make up various teas as they were needed.

A temporary camp had been set up a short distance from the battle site to tend the wounded. Those men who were able were cleaning up after the battle, piling and burning the bodies of the orcs, and standing watch for any other enemies or predators drawn to the scent of blood. Elladan and Elrohir had directed the wounded to be laid on the ground near each other in a very small clearing to be tended to.

Fixing a cup of pain-numbing tea, Elrohir went back to where Elladan had just finished stitching up the injury in Eradan's shoulder and had begun to pack healing herbs against the injury before bandaging it. As soon as Elladan had finished, Elrohir helped the young man to sit up to help him drink the tea. The man, boy really, Elrohir thought, grimaced at the smell as if he knew what it would taste like before he drank the tea down quickly. "Hannon le," he whispered as Elrohir laid him gently back down. The pain and sedatives in the tea quickly pulled him back down into a peaceful slumber, which was good, since they next needed to treat the gash in the young man's side.

When they had treated and stitched up his injuries, they moved on to the next injured man, and the next, and the next. There were no other healers in the patrol, and while most of the Rangers could help out with battle injuries, the twins still liked to check every patient for themselves. When they had finished with all of the wounded, they sat wearily down near the fire to take a rest and get a bite to eat. As they rested, Arathorn came over and sat down across from them. "How are they doing?" he asked them, gesturing back over to where they had laid out the wounded.

Elladan sighed. "We have treated all of the injuries. There are two who will not live out the night. Most of the others will likely heal completely with time as long as their injuries do not become infected. A few of the injuries were poisoned, and we have done the best we can to counteract the poison."

Arathorn looked down at the ground and sighed heavily. He wore a bandage on his right arm, but was otherwise uninjured. "We lost too many in this attack."

"We almost lost you," Elrohir pointed out. He, Elladan, and Arathorn had all seen how close Arathorn had come to being killed by that arrow. If it had not been for the young man now lying among the wounded, the Chieftain of the Dúnedain would have fallen in this battle.

Arathorn sighed and looked back toward the wounded as he was reminded of his close call and the young man who had saved his life. "How is Eradan? Will he be well?"

Elladan nodded slightly. "With time, he should heal completely. His injuries are painful, but we managed to stop the bleeding, and the only danger from his injuries now stems from the possibility of infection. We will keep a close watch to be sure that does not happen."

"Good," Arathorn said, looking back at the twins. "I owe him my life." He looked down, shaking his head in sorrow. "I only wish I did not have such news to give him when he awakes."

Elladan and Elrohir nodded. Arathorn had told them that Eradan's father was one of the casualties of this battle. The young man, who was only twenty years of age had lost his father on his very first patrol. Since Eradan had no other family, Arathorn planned to take him under his wing and watch out for him. This would be a very difficult thing for the young man to face and Arathorn intended for Eradan to know he was not alone.

"How are Gilraen and Aragorn doing after all of this?" Elladan asked in concern, glancing toward the small tent that had been hastily set up to shelter the Chieftain's family.

Arathorn sighed. "Gilraen is shaken, but holding up well. She was finally able to calm Aragorn down. He is sleeping now."

"No child should have to experience something like this," Elrohir said softly.

"I know." Arathorn's expression was pained as he spoke. "That is the whole reason I am bringing them to Imladris. They are not safe out in the wilds anymore. I do not trust that they would be safe even in one of our villages. I know it is earlier than usual to bring him, but these times are becoming ever more dangerous. I cannot allow any harm to come to him. Too much depends on him." Arathorn's voice rose slightly as he expressed the fear he felt for his family's safety, and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Elladan reached out and laid a hand on Arathorn's shoulder. "And he will be safe in Imladris. Fear not." He briefly squeezed the shoulder under his hand before dropping his arm back to his side. "Now we only need to arrive there in one piece." The last line was spoken in a soft undertone that only Elrohir could hear.

Arathorn stood after another moment, moving among the remaining uninjured men, setting the watches for the night. They would not be able to move out until the next morning at the earliest. The had already begun to bury the dead, and if what the twins had said held true, there would be more dead to bury before morning.

------------------------------

When Aragorn next became aware of his surroundings, he first heard voices. There were low, murmuring voices nearby. His mind was too muddled to make sense of what they were saying, but they were familiar and comforting, so he let his mind drift for a while. Feeling a warm hand check his forehead for signs of fever, he decided he should try to wake up and reassure whoever it was that he was well. It was more of a struggle to open his eyes than he would have expected. The forest was dark around him, lit only by the light of a couple of fires scattered through the small camp.

"He is waking," a soft voice called as Aragorn slowly pried his eyes open.

When he was finally able to gaze, somewhat blearily, at those around him, he saw Elladan moving away, and Arathorn crouching down beside him.

"Adar?" Aragorn asked hoarsely. This was beyond anything he had expected. His father was here, beside him. The events of the day flashed briefly before his eyes, and Aragorn sighed in satisfaction. A few injuries were a price he was more than willing to pay for the chance to save his father's life.

A grimace crossed Arathorn's face briefly before it smoothed out into a serious look. "I am sorry, Eradan," he said softly. "Your father did not survive the battle. He was killed while protecting my wife and child."

Aragorn shook his head weakly back and forth in confusion. How could his father have died if Arathorn was the one telling him this? Realization hit a moment later. He had nearly forgotten that he was not Aragorn to those around him, but a young ranger by the name of Eradan. It was Eradan's father who had not survived the battle. Aragorn closed his eyes in grief. While he had not known Elendur, it was always a hard thing to lose men in battle. Aragorn also felt a pang of guilt that he had deprived the father and son of their last day together by taking the place of the young man.

Opening his eyes once more as he felt a hand come to rest on his good shoulder, Aragorn looked up into his father's face as Arathorn spoke. "I know that nothing I say right now will ease your grief, but you must know that you are not alone, Eradan. The others and I will help you through this. You must not hesitate to ask for anything you need."

Aragorn nodded slightly, taking care not to jostle his injured shoulder. "Hannon le, hîr nin." (Thank you, my lord.)

Patting his shoulder gently, Arathorn rose to his feet, nodded once more to Aragorn, and left him alone to grieve. Aragorn closed his eyes again and let his mind wander, trying to figure out where he went from here. He would have to be very careful in his words and actions, not wanting to make those around him suspicious. They must believe that he was the young man they knew as Eradan. As he was pondering his new situation, the pain and remnants of the earlier sedative pulled him gently down into a healing sleep.

----------------------------------------------------------

When Aragorn next woke, there were many voices and a sense of movement around him. Opening his eyes, he glanced around and saw that the camp was being packed up as the Dúnedain prepared to leave. The bright light of the morning shone down through the tops of the trees, indicating that it was later than they normally would have left. Aragorn knew they had likely wanted to allow the injured just a few extra hours of rest before moving them. Forcing himself to a sitting position, he grimaced as the movement pulled on his injuries. Lifting the edge of his shirt, he examined the injury to his side. Though the sword had not likely hit any vital organs, the gash was deep enough and long enough that he would have bled to death had it not been treated. The stitches holding the edges of the gash together were neat and precise, just as Elladan's stitches always were. Nodding in approval, he let the shirt fall and lifted his head to meet the eyes of his brother as Elladan approached him.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Elladan asked him as he crouched down and repeated Aragorn's recent motions of checking on the injury. Seeing no obvious signs of infection, he released the edge of the shirt and quickly checked the shoulder wound before looking at Aragorn.

"I am well," Aragorn replied. He had certainly obtained injuries far worse than this in his life, though he made no comment to that effect since it was doubtful that Eradan would have suffered worse than this in his life.

Elladan's eyebrow rose in an uncanny imitation of Lord Elrond. "No pain?" Elladan asked skeptically.

Aragorn ducked his head before looking back up at Elladan. "Not as much as before," he answered truthfully.

"Will you be able to ride?" Elladan asked him. "We must leave here shortly." He quickly fashioned a sling and arranged Eradan's arm so that he would be less likely to move or strain his injured shoulder. He saw the young man quickly hide the wince of pain that crossed his face as Elladan moved his arm into the sling.

"I will be fine," Aragorn answered. He nodded to Elladan. "Thank you for helping me. I seem to owe you my life."

"As I owe you mine," a voice said. Aragorn looked up and saw Arathorn standing behind him.

"Hîr nin," Aragorn said, nodding his head in acknowledgment. "It was nothing more than my duty. I could not let you be harmed if it was within my power to prevent it. Your people need you. Your family needs you." Aragorn wanted to climb to his feet as he spoke with his father, but knew better than to attempt that just yet.

Arathorn crouched down and stared at the young man before him. Eradan stared back steadily, not flinching from his regard. "Nevertheless," Arathorn finally said, "putting yourself in the path of an arrow meant for me took great courage." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I saw some of your battle, and you fought like a much more experienced warrior. How did you come by such skills?"

Aragorn lightly shrugged his good shoulder. "I had good teachers, and they said I was a natural when it came to fighting. As for putting myself in front of the arrow…there was not so much courage as you might think. I do not believe I actually thought about it at all. I simply reacted to the moment." Aragorn had a slightly self-deprecating smile on his face.

Arathorn shook his head. "Do not attempt to undermine what you have done for me. It was a selfless and courageous act, and I will not forget it." Reaching over and placing a hand on the boy's good shoulder, Arathorn studied his face. "I would like you to become a permanent part of my company. You would stay by my side and be under my direct command. I owe you and your father a debt I cannot repay, but I would like to do what I may for you. Would you consider such a thing?"

Aragorn was speechless for a long moment. He had not expected such a boon as to be granted the chance to spend so much time with his father. Shaking his head to break himself out of his shock, he bowed his head to Arathorn. "It would be an honor, hîr nin. Thank you."

A small smile graced Arathorn's lips as he looked at the stunned look on Eradan's face. "Thank you for accepting," he said. Standing, he looked over at Elladan, who had been watching the scene with a serious look on his face. "Will he be able to ride?"

Elladan nodded an affirmative, and Arathorn looked back at Eradan. "Good, you will ride beside me and my family."

Aragorn watched with amazement as Arathorn strode off to see about getting the camp ready to leave. Elladan moved back over to Aragorn's side with a cup of tea and some bread and dried meat. "Here, you should eat before we leave."

Aragorn glanced suspiciously at the tea. "May I ask what is in that tea? I cannot afford to fall asleep as I am riding."

Elladan smiled slightly. "There are some herbs in it that will help with the pain, but it is nothing that should make you drowsy."

"Hannon le," Aragorn said, reaching for the food and tea with his uninjured arm and beginning to eat. "Is there anything else?" Aragorn asked as Elladan showed no signs of leaving, simply sitting back and watching him.

"Why did you call my brother 'Ro when you woke earlier?" Elladan asked.

"Did I?" Aragorn asked with a confused look on his face. He honestly did not remember what he might have said the first time he woke up. Though it was very likely that he did say something he should not have, thinking that he was talking to his brothers.

"You called my brother 'Ro and asked him to help stop the pain," Elladan said.

Aragorn shook his head as if he were at a loss to explain why he had said such a thing. "I do not remember what I may or may not have said when I first awoke. All I remember is the pain. Please let your brother know I meant no disrespect."

Elladan studied him for a moment. "He took no offense. We merely wondered how you knew to call him that. Only those who know us well can tell us apart, and it was interesting that you called him by a shortened version of the correct name."

Aragorn simply shrugged again, and after another last look, Elladan stood to go help prepare some of the other injured for the journey. Hanging his head, Aragorn closed his eyes. He would have to be much more careful. Treating the twins like they were the brothers he had grown up with would surely reveal that he was not who he seemed to be. After he finished his meal, he stood carefully to his feet and went to find and prepare his horse. He found that his horse was ready and waiting for him, with all his supplies already stored in the saddlebags. Aragorn smiled his thanks at the Ranger who stood nearby, ready to help if needed. Though it was not as easy as usual, Aragorn was able to climb into the saddle without seeking help. Most of the camp was on horseback and ready to go by this time, with some injured being helped onto their own horses, while those unable to ride on their own would be riding back with someone else. Aragorn found his place behind Arathorn, Gilraen and two-year-old Aragorn, and the journey continued.

The rest of the ride to Imladris was uneventful, though they were all on their guard for the rest of the journey. Aragorn breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief as they passed through the entrance to Imladris. They had made it, he was home again. At that thought, he had to correct himself. This was not Eradan's home, though for Aragorn, it would always remain such. Dismounting their horses in the courtyard, the injured were directed or helped into the healing ward. Aragorn was ushered to the very familiar rooms along with the other injured. Finding himself directed to lie down on a bed, Aragorn finally admitted to himself how much pain he was in. Riding with his injuries was not something he would have chosen to do had it not been necessary. Now, resting in a safe, comfortable and very familiar place, he could admit how much he needed the pain-killing tea that one of the healers brought him. Knowing he could do nothing else at the moment, he allowed himself to give in to the sedatives and drift off to a deep sleep.