*******

Though asleep, Gilraen retained some awareness; of the dim room, and of her son lying beside her. Yet a part of her believed, even insisted, that they were in the courtyard under daylight, and years ago. More memory than dream, her sleeping vision as clear as her waking eyes had been.

"Look at me, nana!"

Again as many times already, Gilraen replied smiling, "I see you." Her attention had been nowhere else, since Glorfindel lifted her son upon Asfaloth hours before.

It was the end of summer; every day since harvesting began, Estel would plead to visit the orchards, where Elves sang as they worked, many being particularly inclined to dance and play. Gilraen never learned what aspect of the chore so enthused them, and her son only asked to be there.

That morning, they had come across Glorfindel, immaculate upon his white steed and looking somewhat out of place as he rode down a row of trees; ladders, baskets, and toiling Elves on either side.

"Fair greetings for a fair lady," he all but sang. "Surely Elrond has not dispatched his envoy to pick apples!"

"Not to my knowledge," she replied, "and neither has he dispatched me." Serving as delegate between Rivendell and the Angle was hardly an envoy's status, Gilraen deemed; moreover, she preferred not to think of her outspoken predecessor, Telmoth, as an ambassador.

Glorfindel dismounted, mirthful at the sight of Estel dancing circles around one trunk. "Is this a good tree, young one? Since it is now graced with your affection, I think I too should prefer it, and have my duty fulfilled." Producing several white ribbons, he began binding the cloth to prominent branches.

Gilraen considered this odd deed, but came to no conclusions. Glorfindel only smiled at her inquiry before calling to those nearby, "Hear ye Elves, this is the chosen one! Leave it be!"

Tradition then, it must be some elvish tradition, and immortals must accumulate scores of them. Would they abandon those oldest, or avoid making many anew, lest every day become an event? Her son danced again, twirling one of Glorfindel's ribbons through the air. Maybe daily cause for celebration is what keeps some Elves so merry.

She might have woken during these thoughts, or imagined her son's sleeping face, who soon smiled again upon a white steed.

Estel was overjoyed to ride unaccompanied for the first time, and to think that he commanded the horse, although Glorfindel had walked beside directing Asfaloth all along.

"Yaw!" her son cried. "Ha-yaw!" Asfaloth simply completed the circle he paced to pause at Glorfindel's other side. "He does not go..." Estel eyed the meadow beyond the courtyard.

Laughing, Glorfindel said, "No! Because no such request was made. But I think he, and your mother, would consent to another go round." Instructed by a hand gesture, Asfaloth began another loop.

Gilraen suspected that her son might complain, demand adventure; instead he called to her, waving. "Nana, look at me!"

"I see you."

So she said, yet this time her eyes focused elsewhere. In that instant, Arathorn stood beyond, clear but colorless, and unobstructed until Asfaloth passed in front. Then the apparition was gone, replaced by Elrond, who should rightly be there, if the dream obey memory. He spoke words lost upon her; on the brink of waking, she wondered if she had listened then, either, or had she thought to see her husband first.

Glorfindel looked at her, attentive enough that she fell deeply asleep once more. Guessing his question, she nodded her approval. It was only a few yards to where Elrond stood, and Asfaloth had demonstrated exceptional temperament.

To ride even that short distance alone thrilled Estel; it seemed all he could do to sit still for the duration. Once arrived, he explained the extent of his accomplishment to Elrond, who held Asfaloth's headstall until Glorfindel arrived to check that none of Estel's clothing had caught on the saddle before helping him down.

She had come to expect such care and familiarity -- but not what came after.

"There you are, child, back on your feet. Now run along to your ada, tell him what you learnt is a good way to pluck apples from high branches!"

That Glorfindel meant well did not change how she hated the moment, as her stomach fell with the weight of the dead, and a chill set in, pending Estel's reaction. Would he be struck with remembrance, and weep for Arathorn? If he did, would Elrond weep for rejection? No, impossible nonsense: one was too young to remember, the other too old to cry.

The silence lasted only a heartbeat, if the consequence would last forever. Estel went forward and began the tale of picking apples from horseback, calling Elrond father for the first time, as he would do thereafter.

Arathorn had not been replaced, she realized; merely blocked from her sight. Still he stood there, revealed again as Elrond knelt. Neither his deathless face nor his unmarred eyes mirrored any expression. All he held was a white ribbon in one hand held out to her. An urge to take it from him consumed her, wanting nothing more. Her muscles burned with the effort to move, to go to him. He shook his head and backed away, fading a little further even as Gilraen managed to sit up.

She sat staring ahead; he might reappear if she quit struggling. The notion that he was dead lingered just beyond her awareness. Wall, window, doorway, nighttime now, and unreal. Alone in bed, every movement took slow effort, as though her body was numb, or her will. Unable to force herself awake, she left the room to find her son, loath to be parted from him, even in a dream.

From the hall window she observed the courtyard below, where walked a procession of hooded figures. One looked up at her, faceless. This had happened one High Day; then the smiling Elf who spotted her raised a candle in salute. This void just stared.

Turning away, now the hallway was a row of trees on each side. One tree stood alone, adorned with white ribbons. Tradition. She vaguely recalled the eventual explanation: that it was custom for the Lords in residence to harvest the fruit of one tree together each year.

The dream made its own ritual. A stale breeze folded the white over to red, which then bled to black under cloudless rain. Amid the swaying branches, she could barely discern a streaked face, beardless and solemn, grey hair in contrast to the black ribbons. Fifteen hung already, and the person held one more, raising cloth to lips before tying it off with thin hands.

Another breeze swept the scene away as so much ash.

Finally, Gilraen could wake. She kept her eyes closed, grateful for sightlessness in place of seeing. Under the light of day, such images would shrink away to sleep themselves until her next restless night. Reaching out to find her son's hand, she waited for the dawn.

*******

The Third Age - 2935

*******

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.

*******

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.

*******

*******

The next day kept Gilraen busy from the moment she opened her eyes.

Estel was difficult to wash and nigh impossible to dress, restless with excitement. "Will they be at breakfast?" he had asked a number of times. He found it insufficient that Gilraen assured him the twins would be found eventually, though she knew not their own schedule.

"I get to meet their horses today, Elrohir promised! Nana, I have never sat a stallion before, may I sit one of theirs? --oh, not that itchy pair-- Will they be at breakfast?"

"My child, you shall find, eat, meet, or sit nothing without pants on. Now be still!" He did so, with visible effort, and without silencing.

Gilraen did not wonder at his enthusiasm. Often Elladan and Elrohir were spoken of in their father's house. Tales of their exploits across Middle-earth, combined with their fair portraits and the forbidden allure of their closed rooms, had long captivated her son. Even at that, he knew less than he might. 'Adventuring' was called their endless hunt and execution of orcs, at Gilraen's insistence. Regardless of how necessary or valuable the undertaking, she would not abide admiration for such achievements with Estel not yet old enough to respect how unglamorous the deed.

When they arrived at the dining hall, Estel was plainly disappointment that only Elrond and few others were present. Upon hearing that the twins were still abed, his mood lifted. "But the sun is up already!" he said laughing, and showed no interest in the food placed before him. "Really, nana, I should go and wake them, lest they sleep the day away."

"You should have breakfast and respect the privacy of others."

He quieted at this familiar reminder, and did not voice his usual defense, that he should not be faulted if some Elves were less receptive than others, since it was impossible to remember which ones do not appreciate what kinds of play.

After breakfast, Gilraen found herself reluctant to leave Estel in anyone else's care, for he seemed thoughtful, which was not unknown to precede mischief. She felt little comforted when Elrond said, "I thought we might forsake studies today, and dwell out of doors. Elrohir spoke last night of tack in poor repair; perhaps we may learn something of leathercraft, if we keep an audience with him."

Before he finished, Estel had already agreed thrice. Despite her reservations, Gilraen could not but consent. She left for her usual chores, taking longer since she made the time to happen across her son's location periodically -- every hour on the hour, in fact.

She discovered him well-behaved and in good company each time: first in the stables, watching beside Elrond as Elrohir shaped a horseshoe; next helping in the kitchens, unrecognizable but for his smile under a coating of flour; and later she heard many voices along with her son's, all male, echoing from the civic bathing chamber, but could not bring herself to look inside. By the last calculated chance visit --Estel slept in a chair while Elrond and Elrohir sat talking nearby-- she felt guilty for checking.

On that final walk returning to her tasks, Elladan came upon her path all too conveniently. He alone had marked her comings and goings throughout the day, while others paid no heed. She recognized the ambush as such, and would have allowed herself to be annoyed, had she not personally been stalking another likewise.

He gave a bow, and spoke as formally, "My brother was good enough to inform me that I owe you an apology, lady. Doubtless he spoke sooth, being in such ways the wiser of us two. For my part, I was not at my best last night, being fatigued and preoccupied; but troubling you was not my intent, and I am sorry."

Gilraen nodded as if interested, her mood such that she sought the fastest resolution without conflict. "Accepted then," she said, smiling as an afterthought, and saw that Elladan looked as unconvinced as her voice sounded unconvincing. Yet he said nothing more, not including the raised brow, and did not leave.

Suddenly uncomfortable, and at a loss for what else to do, she managed a farewell, only halting some steps away. This would be no easier after a day or a year, and no harder to confront now than to forever avoid. She turned back to face him.

"If you had not expected to return and find that another now thinks of your father as his own, know that I understand. Yet Master Elrond has forgotten you no more than Estel has replaced you, by will or accident. If you would but give him a chance, my son I mean, I think you could love him no less."

"You only think that, lady, while I know it is so. Mind you that your son is one of many, and just as his forefathers before him--" he looked away briefly. "It is easier, to love."

"What reason is that for--"

"Because it is shortsighted also," he snapped, sighing to continue, "Understand that soon, as I reckon it, Estel will die. Would you have me turn next to his heirs and begin breaking my heart anew? Well, I have seen that road, and it never ends." He brought himself up straighter, looking a little further down his nose at her thereby. "No, for me it must not be so. I am not as some others to spend my days enduring such torment, nor indeed contriving it. My energy is committed elsewhere."

"Was it always?" His look, however intense, did not surpass that of his father, and Gilraen withstood it. "You were friends with my husband, he spoke to me of you. He spent his childhood here too. And you mistook my son that night, calling him Arahad--" Elrond had never looked at her quite as Elladan did now, and she succumbed to the urge instilled in her to be silent.

He said plainly, "Less apparent though it may be given the short span of mortal years, nonetheless believe me when I say that even in Rivendell, some things do change."

"Yes. Yes of course. Then I-- I would ask nothing of you. Just, perhaps, that you not begrudge my son the love given him. It is not undeserved."

Shifting, he said, "I do not. Pray you not begrudge me, lady, that I cannot forget who will stand over his grave, and yours, beside Elrond grieving yet again for the bitterness of mortality."

To that, she had no reply. The notion of Elrond, or any of these most noble of people, burying Estel seemed wrong beyond reason, even more so than any looking to the next Heir of Isildur. She could not put it to words.

"Gilraen." He had spoken while her thoughts consumed her. She blinked and found his expression softened. "I said that certain things need not be asked for, that there be no confusion in the future. True it is no secret that Elrond and I do not agree in all ways at all times; yet I am a loyal son, and ever at the service of my lord father in his endeavors, many of which we share in common. Do you understand?"

Excluding the aspect entirely unknown to her, that Elrond and either of his sons were ever at odds for any reason, she thought to. "I believe so."

"That is well then." He bowed again with a smile that revealed nothing, gave a courteous farewell, and turned to go.

"Ah--" he stopped. "My son, besides that he-- I mean, do you disagree about Estel? If I may ask."

Elladan hesitated, but sounded sincere to say, "No." He glanced over his shoulder. "You do know what it means, Estel? If I may ask."

"Hope? I should-- hope so."

To her surprise, he smiled honest and nigh full, an Elrohir-smile in the making. "Well, I might have chosen something more... subtle, to relate the same sentiment. Beren, mayhap. But no, we do not disagree about Estel."

"I suggested Elessar," she ventured given the lighter mood, yet not so comfortable that she felt like sharing that the name had indeed been foreseen for him at his birth.

"Elfstone." Elladan faced forward. "What did Elrond say?"

She smiled remembering his smile. "Not yet."

"...Good day, Gilraen."

Well, there had been worse days.

*******

Notes:
*From ROTK Appendix A: 'But [Aragorn] was called Estel, that is "Hope"...'.
*From LOTR, Farewell to Lorien: 'In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil!' And from ROTK, The Houses of Healing: 'And they named him Elfstone, because of the green stone that he wore, and so the name which it was foretold at his birth that he should bear was chosen for him by his own people.' So who foretold the name at his birth? Canonically, it was Ivorwen mother of Gilraen. From HOME, The Peoples of Middle-earth: '...and his father gave him the name Aragorn, a name used in the House of the Chieftains. But Ivorwen at his naming stood by, and said "Kingly Valour" (for so that name is interpreted): "that he shall have, but I see on his breast a green stone, and from that his true name shall come and his chief renown: for he shall be a healer and a renewer."'

*******

*******

2936

As they left the dining hall headed out of doors, Gilraen noted how Elrond seemed preoccupied, though it had been otherwise during supper. Once Estel had scurried ahead to walk aside Elrohir, she sidled closer to Elrond. "An evening fit for a poet," she said, pointing to a pair of birds perched in a flowering tree. Elrond had once commented in jest how throughout the Ages, nigh every minstrel visiting Rivendell had dedicated a song to that very scene.

He made no response, so Gilraen simply held out her hand before him, which by habit he took to his side in the manner of formal escort. Thus having his attention, she said, "I fear Estel has developed a taste for the spontaneous, and a tendency to assume all others are of like mind. I know he was obstinate and excited about going for this ride, but I could still dissuade him, if you have obligations elsewhere."

He drew a quick breath and stopped walking, his unblinking stare focused over her head. Gilraen turned. Ahead, Elrohir and Estel entered the stable just then. Nothing seemed amiss. Before she could question, Elrond resumed walking, swifter than before. She followed, soon hearing her son's alarmed voice from within the building they neared.

As she began to run, he emerged alone to stump against the entryway. "Estel, what? What is it?" Weeping, he threw himself into her arms, reaching too for Elrond. Through his sobs, Gilraen could distinguish few words, 'dead' among them, but he pointed tellingly whence he had come.

"One of the horses has perished," said Elrond. With a sigh, he joined in the embrace of mother and child, remaining so until Estel had calmed. "I go now to do what else I can."

Gilraen nodded, seeing that Elrohir lingered nearby. He made a small gesture, either summoning his father or relaying some message. "I will see to this." She kissed her son's head, talking soothingly to him as she started back for the house. Mere steps later, Estel popped his head up from her shoulder, red eyes wide and darting.

"Nana, no! Where did ada go?"

She tried to explain that he had gone to do something unfun, trying next to interest Estel in playing a game inside. The instant his eyes filled with new tears, she relented. "Let us stay by Master Elrond then."

They fell in line not far behind him. Elrohir stood now at the entry, rigid back to the frame, almost guard-like in his stance. He did not move as she passed him by, neither to blink nor to breathe, that Gilraen could tell. Even passing the eeriness of his presence, she felt engulfed by more of the same within.

Just ahead, Asfaloth laid unmoving, his saddle gear and headstall strewn haphazardly about. Elrond stood there; and cradling the beast's head, a figure sat, gold-haired and white-garbed. Gilraen had never beheld Glorfindel so wilted, so dim. Unwittingly, she paused.

"It is death." Startled by his unexpected words, she eyed Elrohir over the shoulder Estel did not clutch. The threshold fell under shadow, concealing his face and giving his voice the illusion of disembodiment. "Why it feels as though you have stepped beyond Rivendell: you walk in the footprints of death."

"I am mortal." Shifting Estel to her other hip, she shook out her cramping arm, and walked on. "We live in the footprints of death."

She came to stand near Elrond, who had crouched aside Glorfindel. Being so close gave her certainty that Asfaloth drew no breath, and she wondered at Elrond's purpose as he rested his hands upon him with bowed head. Then came a whispered incantation in Quenya, both language and significance beyond her understanding.

"I am sorry, my friend," said Elrond.

Glorfindel might have attempted a smile, nodding instead. "So am I. Sorry and selfish." The motion unsteady, maybe for lack of reason, he stroked the white coat. "We would ride so little anymore, giving his body ample time to rest. Yesterday I left him hopeful of another year, one last year. Today he asked for one last ride, knowing better than I how short his time left. Yet we got only this far, before--" Shoulders tensing, his chin fell abruptly to his chest. "He did not resist, so noble, just lied down and..." When Elrond knelt behind, straight and strong, Gilraen likened him to the shadow Glorfindel would cast on any other day.

His gaze took to roaming the form before him, then his surroundings, as though seeking something misplaced, or just missed; he spoke as if lost himself. "How many times, this, Elrond? How many times that it never becomes easier?"

Estel wept anew, clinging to Gilraen even as the Elf twisted into Elrond's embrace. As it proved evident that her son would not be consoled promptly, she took continuous steps backwards, colliding suddenly with something broad and hard. Gloved hands steadied her from behind.

"My apologies, lady, I was distracted."

"No, excuse me, I wasn't looking." Gilraen turned, peering beyond the Elf-man to see if another remained at the entrance. The shadow revealed nothing. She studied the face before her. "Elrohir?"

"He has left." Elladan did not let her get out an apology. "No matter." After a glance to where Elrond comforted Glorfindel, he looked full at her son. "What about this jaunt you pled for? I thought you would have been miles gone by now."

Estel sniffed. "I do not care to ride anymore. Asfaloth has died, and everyone cries for him. Will you hold me?"

Elladan flinched at the unusual request. "Must we stay here, if I do?" Estel shook his head, already reaching over. Taking him, Elladan said to Gilraen, "Would you accompany us into the fresh air?"

Gladly, she did so, feeling immediately refreshed, even able to find amusement in that, for once, she had been happier to see Elladan than his brother. When a hint of guilt followed that thought, she glanced sidelong. Her son cried no longer, comforted in the Elf-man's arms; seeing him held by another, she did not wonder that her own arm still ached. Soon only hearty men would have the strength to lift him.

"Thank you," she said. Elladan nodded.

They walked through the pasture, until the sun was near the horizon, and the stable a distant shape. Elladan lead them to a place amid sparse, thin trees, where the remains of what might have been broken walls provided Estel with a few moments of intense investigation. He soon returned to where his mother sat, saying, "I am still sad."

Hearing this, Elladan came to sit beside Gilraen. "Here, take a place between us." With help to scale the bench's height, he did so. Elladan said then, "Things die, Estel; plants, people, even ideas -- you know this. Asfaloth is a good and loyal horse, but he is mortal also. Had he stayed any longer with us, he would have struggled to live, and suffered in death."

"I don't want that either," said her son. "But father suffers now, and Glorfindel. They even cried, you saw."

Elladan turned his face to the setting sun, the west. "They are sad, more so than need be, which I will explain. Think of Elven grief like a lakebed, when over the Ages, sorrow by sorrow, the bed fills, becoming a pool. Undisturbed, it remains calm, but imagine now a stone dropped into the water; as it sinks, ripples spread in widening circles out to the very the rim. Incidents like this one are as stones, that when fallen upon a calm pool, upset each sorrow laid there to rest before."

Estel nestled closer to Elladan's side. Duly surprised, Gilraen noticed the Elf-man drape his arm around the boy. "Glorfindel does not weep for this severance alone, but for remembrance of every time he has bid a friend farewell. Not all partings are peaceful, as this one. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Only--" Estel looked up, squinting as his head tilted thoughtfully. "You are elvish. Why do you not ripple?"

A smile equally sorrowful and sagacious surfaced as Elladan regarded the boy. "Some ripple on the inside." They embraced briefly, when Elladan said, "Now, enough tears! You are no Elf to have so many to spare. Besides, Asfaloth will return."

Gilraen could not be certain, by Estel's exclamation, if she also had gasped. "He will? He really will?" After Elladan's nod, Estel squealed for joy. "Does Glorfindel know? Does father, and Elrohir? I must tell them!"

His expression sobered at that, Elladan stood up, lowering the Estel the ground. "They do know. You may remind them, but have a care. Remember what I said; their grief may yet dwell close to the surface, until this time of mourning passes."

"Oh, yes, I'll be gentle. But what news!" He turned to Gilraen with eyes alight, speaking before she could summon the nerve to quench his exhilaration, "Nana, is it not wonderful? He'll return!" Unanswered, he sprinted off, racing through the field.

Gilraen turned on the Elf-man, fighting an urge to slap him. "In this as in so many things, you could learn much from your brother."

"What?"

"What!" She raised a hand on impulse, lowering it in a fist as quickly. "He will not forget, Elladan, he is no fool. Months and years will pass with you coming and going as you please but he will never forget what you said this day." His innocuous look only exasperated her further. She continued pleadingly, as one might reason with an unreasonable child, "How can you pretend not to understand? How can you justify telling an everlasting untruth to brighten one dark hour? You know better, you must!"

After an initial frown, he bristled, even tossed his head. "Lady, I think of neither you nor your son as fools, and I tell no lies. But whether you understand it or not, this-- reunion will occur."

"Ah, 'reunion', is it?" Her annoyance grew twofold, that no one here spoke to her in Sindarin despite her fluency, save to replace a word or two should her reaction to the Westron equivalent displease them. "In spirit, you mean? And where, when; beyond this world? You might have told Estel as much, though he should not be so happy to hear that he must die, that his mother must die, before we can be reunited with those beloved and lost to us in life." Realizing that she spoke now on matters of little concern to Elf-kind, and that she had once again raised her hand in temptation, she crossed her arms and quieted.

Elladan looked upon her strangely, before saying, "I see that this is difficult for you to consider."

To rally whatever patience remained to her, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. "I have no desire to pursue this further at present. But one day, Estel must be told the truth, an unpleasant chore that will fall to me. I do not thank you for that." She met his eyes again, forcing herself to remember his compassion towards her son, and that in his own way, he meant well. "For being a comfort to him, I am grateful. Good day."

*******

*******

2938

She stopped short, motionless after her mouth fell open. It could not be. In the courtyard, a crowd formed to greet the recent arrival, every face smiling except for one -- to Gilraen's knowledge, even elvish horses could not smile.

After a bout of basking in admiration, the beast stepped forward to pause at the base of the stairs. Not fully grown, Gilraen estimated his age at two years, though he moved with the grace of a steed tried and proven. Raising and turning his head, he eyed her; such was the intelligence in his gaze that when he blinked, Gilraen could not differentiate it from a wink. It could not be. Yet no other horse had ever regarded her in such a way.

"Asfaloth!" cried an Elf from behind. A blur of golden hair went by, with laughter like a ringing of bells. "Asfaloth!"

Incredulous, Gilraen watched as Glorfindel descended the stairs to embrace the young stallion. Looking up towards her, tears shone on his bright face, tears of joy. In no rush, he fussed over the animal, inspecting every joint and limb, exclaiming his satisfaction all the while. Finally, he leapt away. "Come, Asfaloth, come! You journeyed long to reach home, and long shall be your reception." He walked backwards then, speaking of carrots, combing, and all manner of equine indulgences.

The horse followed, nudging playfully at the Elf's center, but paused once Glorfindel had turned to proceed forward. Unobserved, save to Gilraen, the steed glanced back at her, nickered with a toss of his head, and sprinted off to rejoin his master.

Decided then, she headed down the stairs. A few Elves remained below, chatting amongst themselves of Glorfindel's happiness, Asfaloth's return, and something about Gondolin that Gilraen did not understand. She heard nothing indicative of surprise in particular; she never had. How uncomfortable she would become, the times Estel mentioned Asfaloth and his impeding return, more so that Elf after Elf humored her son unhesitatingly, even Elrond. Or so she had thought.

On winding paths through gardens and structures, she made her way to the training grounds, then the sparring ring. There, a few pairs were amid mock combat, while several Elves lingered near the surrounding benches. She sought out a familiar face, and approached Telmoth.

Estel once asked the Elf why Glorfindel mourned if he would meet Asfaloth again. "Because it is his way," she had said, "but for that reason I mourn not, and I think neither should you."

Gilraen waited for Telmoth's attention, and tried not to think of the sleep she had not lost these past years, or how she owed no apologies this day, or what teasing she would inflict upon Gilraen later.

"Aye, like timid maidens," the Elf was saying to another as they surveyed the proceedings. Telmoth acknowledged Gilraen with a nod at last, and seemed to dismiss her similarly. "It is noon. Elrond should be in his library."

"After he and my son return from foraging for herbs, perhaps." The Elf gave a short huff, which Gilraen endeavored not to make her repeat. "But might you know where Elrond's firstborn enjoys himself today, if not in your own fine company?"

Telmoth's eyelids lowered, and she made a strange movement: Gilraen likened it to how Estel might hug himself for a job well done. "Indeed, he was here earlier, when the elders had the field, though he left before I could wound aught other than his pride. I would look to find him at the nearest bathing spring."

"Ah, well, I would not." At the Elf's raised brow, Gilraen found her fingernails very interesting. "Would not disturb him, I mean. Mayhap you know of his plans for this evening?"

"I have not seen him in the evening for all this season."

Neither had Gilraen, and remembering how unpredictably Elrond's sons were known to depart, she resolved to seek him out sooner than later. She left Telmoth and her companion debating the difference twixt subterfuge and technique. Elladan was not present at the first or second site visited, and according to those Elves singing with the water and each other, he had not been observed coming or going. By the third, Gilraen approached and paused only near enough to hear splashing; when no songs followed, she continued along the path. Ahead, the trail wound sharply around an outcropping of rock. Gilraen did not frequent the springs, but remembered that this pool lay just opposite the bend. Bypassing the boulder, she stood with her back to the turned path, so that the bather would be aware of her presence but invisible to her.

Soundless moments later, she heard, "What are you doing?"

"I had hoped to speak with you," she answered, recognizing Elladan's voice.

"Then come over, lest we go hoarse from shouting."

As the noises of splashing resumed, she obligingly took a few steps closer, backwards. "Forgive my intrusion, I feared to miss you in the evening. Might we set time aside to speak sometime later, before you next take leave?"

"Why not now?"

She sighed silently. Despite years residing in an elvish household, publicly bathing in appropriate nudity remained a strange custom to her. Likewise, some Elves had remarked upon her reservations as seeming no less peculiar to them. Presently, she suspected that Elladan was just being contrary.

"Asfaloth has returned."

The water went quiet again. Bracing her modesty, Gilraen turned, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand. His gaze drifted from the surrounding greenery to the sky, stopping squarely upon her. "And this surprises you."

"Well, yes. So I came to--" she found herself shifting as his eyes did not, "to make amends." Suddenly he shrugged, and emerged with barely enough warning for Gilraen to avert her already heated face. His voice came from farther away.

"Then this surprises me. I had not realized that we were at odds."

Though tempted, she did not admit her difficulty to be certain either, judging by his moods alone. "Two years ago, you consoled my son when Asfaloth-- died. Do you recall?" When no reply came, she turned again. Elladan laid spread out to dry on a smooth rock in the sun. Seeing as much, she promptly looked back away, assuming that he had nodded in answer rather than fallen asleep. "I was short with you, believing you had misled him. But you were right, in all that you said. I did not understand, still I do not."

Another silence lengthened, until Gilraen glanced over to see Elladan raised on his elbows, unsmiling as he regarded her. Guessing his unspoken complaint, she neared. He reclined then, saying, "In my lifetime, I have ridden and buried countless horses, though never one quite like Asfaloth. As told by Glorfindel, he is an elvish horse of ancient lineage, born first in the Undying Lands and come to Arda before the sun. Throughout the Ages, he has died both on the field of battle, and as you saw, at the end of his natural life. In either case, he ever returns at his leisure. More than that, I cannot explain."

"I wish you could." She thought for a moment, musing aloud, "It must have something to do with his living here, in an elvish realm. Elsewhere, horses are not reborn--"

"How can you be certain? Has no foal of your acquaintance been faster to learn, more eager to serve, less liable to err?"

"Of course, but--"

"Have you never asked them of themselves?"

First dismissing the question as a jest, she reconsidered to say, "I do not have that ability, to converse with animals."

"Like I said, Glorfindel and Asfaloth were companions since before time passed as we count it now, so one should expect their bond, but it is a rare beast who retains naught that--" she heard a scattering of pebbles. He had sat up facing her, both feet on the ground. "Say you what?"

"I cannot talk to animals."

"My father said you were foresighted, in the manner of Elf-kind. I had assumed--" Sounding initially puzzled, he ended simply, "Well, no matter."

From the edge of her vision, she saw Elladan standing up; after catching a welcome glimpse of cloth, she chanced to look fully. He pulled a tunic over his head -- first shaking the tunic, then his head, both a bit bemusedly. She cleared her throat. "So, Asfaloth, he is reborn, and makes his way home as he pleases."

"So he tells us." He went rigid before sighing in a groan. She could only guess that he had meant not to speak again of what beasts have to say for themselves. "Does your son know?"

"Maybe, by now." When it appeared that he made ready to leave, she extended her hand, as she had seen others do under these circumstances. "I had thought of myself as so clever to evade the subject, should it ever arise. Yet the last time Estel spoke of Asfaloth, asking when I supposed he would return, I answered that I supposed he would not. I mean to apologize to my son, for my pessimism. But now, I wish to apologize to you, for my mistake."

He seemed to deliberate; also to soften. "Just be mindful not to let this incident lead you to gullibility. Some of these Elves are not above pranks, and those so inclined prey upon trustfulness." She wondered why a smile came to him as he grasped her by the arm. "All is well." His smile broadened, until he laughed.

"What?"

"This," he shook her arm, "transpired traditionally amongst brothers in arms, though these days any ner will take the liberty. However, the nissi always have and still embrace."

"I see. What of me then?"

"Evidently something in between, which is why I laughed. Look here, this is the wrong arm you offered."

"Hm, what a fine apology to waste. And I thought myself so clever." She frowned upon their clasped arms. "But it is a gesture of contrition, yes?"

"It is. And an apology once accepted in any form cannot be withdrawn. Though you may have your hand back."

Side by side, they began to follow the trail. "So many customs to heed; and this one creates a predicament for your line. Which hand do the Half-elven offer?"

"Ah, we exempt ourselves by winking instead; the nuances of which make apologizing to your kind somewhat of a trial -- twixt the men, especially."

She laughed, more at his oddness than the jest. Then realizing that Elladan had done the same after her blunder, she laughed anew.

*******

Notes:
*Asfaloth is the canonical horse of Glorfindel in the time of LOTR. That Asfaloth was a horse of Valinor and the concept of animal reincarnation as presented herein are not canonical elements.
*Ner means male elf (neri plural), the equivalent of man/men; nis means female elf (nissi plural), the equivalent of woman/women.
*The customs Elladan describes (and jokes about) are not canonical elements.

*******

2941

"Today is a special day, Estel," said Elladan. He had a knowing look, standing with hands on hips and gazing keenly at the boy. Gilraen took particular notice of this wily mood, rare as it was. Her son, however, looked up at the Elf-man unimpressed.

"I know that," he said.

Elladan replied sagely, "Ah, but it is especially special. Can you guess how so?"

"Well, it is my birthday. So-- that must not be all." Estel thought for a moment, touching his finger to his temple even though his mother had assured him it does not truly help one think. "Elladan, what then? The day will be over before I figure it out."

"No, for you are clever with riddles. But I will not leave you wondering." He turned up his hands, fingers spread. "You are now ten years of age, and not until ninety years have passed shall you earn a third digit."

Estel stood unflinching, then closed his eyes, frowned, and sighed with a shake of his head. "That is a lame jest." Gilraen's quick reprimand was lost amid Elladan's mock-outburst.

"What! That is as my own grandfather told me, and similarly when I reached my first century--"

"And it was lame even then," said Elrohir, strolling into the room. Elladan dismissed them both with a wave before turning to a window, though from her vantage Gilraen saw that he grinned.

Elrohir went on, "Father is coming now to see us off, and our horses wait prepared in the square. Estel, I've brought your gloves, but here, let me show you a nice trick. I shall set them on the furnace a moment ere we go, and your fingers will thank you for the warmth -- never forget them there, though, or no one will thank you for the smell!"

Gilraen watched their continuing exchange with gladness and sorrow, knowing her son would be as safe as he would be content with Elrond's sons. Without his mother. Estel had pleaded for such an excursion over many years, ever bade to settle for daylong rides. Now at last she trusted his skills at riding and woodcraft enough to permit a longer trip, and one on which she would not go along. Therefore his birthday gift from her: twelve days in the wilderness accompanied by Elladan and Elrohir.

"Well, just look at you." Elrohir had knelt before Estel, looking the boy over as he arched backwards. "Every year your head is at a different place! I should ask father if you are tall for your age."

"And father would know," said Estel. "He measured me just a while ago, all over! I thought it was for clothing, and shoes, and a hat too, but I've received none of those things since."

Gilraen remembered that day. She had been hard-pressed to keep from laughing at Elrond's cleverness in concealing his true purpose from Estel, who might have guessed what he was being fitted for, had Elrond not documented the length of each foot as well as the reach of both arms, and the circumference of his head along with the width of his shoulders.

Her son looked now at Elrohir as he had looked at her after Elrond departed with his partially irrelevant dimensions. "Was that not strange of him?"

"Hmm, yes, I cannot make any sense of that," Elrohir lied, poorly. "Brother, have you any insight to share?"

Elladan would not spoil the game, if he played differently. "I think you are all mad."

"Well there, you see? Maybe that explains it."

Of a sudden, Estel was all his age, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Oh, oh, oh, a plot! Tell me now, Elrohir, I must know, what is the long secret?"

"It is not for me to tell!" he laughed. "But I think you will know soon enough, perhaps even before we leave."

Gilraen unclenched her hands as the chair's armrests began to creak. Something about the way anyone said everything incited an urge to forbid this plan, and keep Estel at home. With his mother. She entertained thoughts of meddling already entertained and dismissed twice, thrice, before. If she asked Glorfindel to follow them, he may; or if she begged, Telmoth, though she would balk at such short notice. In any case, Ronduir would watch over them, if his post were nearby; unless Gilraen could get a message to him that he might outright spy. No, dismissed. Again.

When Elrond came, they left together for the courtyard. Gilraen noticed her son inching towards her, the brave face he donned unwavering. Soon his cold hand slipped into hers. "Will you be lonely?" he blurted once the horses came into view, packed as they were for the journey ahead.

"Of course!" She bent to kiss his head. "So do not stay gone overlong."

"Nana..." he stopped short as Elladan came up, presenting the warmed gloves. "Oh, I forgot after all. Elrohir--"

"Forgets his own more often than not. How else would he know they smell foul when cooked? Now run along, Master Elrond asks for you." He patted the boy's back, and bowed towards Gilraen. "We go with his blessings, lady," he said, and despite the unsaid, that with Elrond's sanction came some security, Gilraen still put her heart back in place with every swallow.

A joyous cry shattered the peace, followed by elvish laughter from unseen sources. Gilraen looked towards her son, just completing a happy dance before daring to handle the gift Elrond had revealed. It was a bow, far more opulent than what had been described to her as a mere idea presented with seeming innocence. She resolved to have more care next time the Halfelven seemed innocent.

Now he knelt, and Estel rested back against Elrond's support after receiving the bow gingerly. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he examined its shape and the runes writ upon it. "I will cherish it," he breathed.

"No." Elrond turned Estel around and closed the bow in his hands. "You must use it. Thus, it should become scuffed and worn, and it may well break or be replaced. But--"

"The gift, father." Estel walked forward and helped himself to a long embrace. "I will cherish the gift, not the thing -- I know the difference. Thank you." Soon he giggled to add, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

At that, Gilraen lost the fight for composure. This scene before her and the imminent parting stirred too many memories that she wished never to revisit. For her son's sake, she turned away to conceal a sob by embracing whoever stood closest, as if in farewell. Then for her own sake, she turned again and embraced whoever stood next closest, to conceal her mirth after that queer moment in Elladan's awkward embrace. She felt Elrohir shaking with silent laughter of his own, which helped her efforts to sober none at all.

Weapon at hand, Estel was all confidence. Accepting no help to get saddled --nor suffering to be parted from the bow-- he reined his horse around while the brethren mounted their steeds. "I shall return an accomplished bowman, a master hunter!" he said to Elrond, who generously conceded that by minding Elladan and Elrohir's tuition, it was possible. Gilraen wondered how long it would be until he noticed his lack of arrows, and how long after that until the brethren ceased teasing and revealed the quiver which was to be their gift to him.

With one last farewell, she watched her only son ride out of sight beside twain warriors, and carefully repressed the thought: What have I done? Stealing a glance sidelong revealed Elrond in his statue form. Odd that so many years later it would strike her how Estel --no, little Aragorn-- used to do just that with roads: stare and stare at no one there. Gilraen went inside alone.

***

By midday, their paths had crossed too closely, too many times, to ignore. Gilraen laughed mildly embarrassed to have been caught wandering aimlessly; Elrond might have been playing, for his own part. They approached each other to meet in the foyer.

"Well, I forgot your advice, lord, though I now see the wisdom in it," said Gilraen. Elrond had suggested that she do nothing for days before Estel departed, to ensure a busy schedule without time to worry until his return. Yet the nervousness started even before he left, so until then, she stayed restlessly productive, leaving little to do now but wait.

Elrond unfolded his hands to regard and seemed to shrug at their emptiness. "Would that I had heeded my own advice better. It is easier looking after another, I deem, than seeing to oneself."

"We ought to have put conditions upon each other, then, that we remain idle until his departure... or else sat with our hands tied together. For my part, though, I am not solely to blame! I tried to busy my hands by helping Estel with his packing, but he was so determined to do things himself."

Elrond nodded, saying, "Ah, and I had made a list, on it among other chores to reorder my library. But Estel happened across those plans, and thinking to spare me the trouble, toiled in my place secretly: 'since I helped you mess it', as he said."

Gilraen forced her smile away. "When he returns, we must sit him down and explain all he has put us through."

"Truly."

A noise outside attracted her attention for a moment, and the angled shadows reminded her of the hour. On a normal day, Elrond would be unseen from now until suppertime. Before she could excuse herself if he had business elsewhere, he said, "I had sought for you, in fact, hoping we might speak."

If Gilraen could think of any deed that she would not part from for Elrond's sake, walking in circles would not be it. He led the way to his study, where they settled on opposite sides of a table upon which sat a tea tray and an unusual absence of books.

Pouring their drinks, Elrond gestured about the room, bookshelves on each wall tidy and clean. "Estel was diligent."

"So I see." With a burned lip, Gilraen left the beverage to cool and sat back. Two cups in front of two chairs between hot cider already prepared and an utterly silent hallway beyond the door Elrond had closed behind them. The Lord of Rivendell had words to say. "What have you foreseen?"

He did not appear pained to drink before replying, "I would not expect to surprise you by saying that in these darkening days, it is the unseen we must mind foremost." She reached a finger to her own cup and recoiled from the heat while he drank again. "This, though, is all we need resolve at present. It is my advice that after Estel has returned he should begin a more rigorous schedule of combat training." His eyes met hers. "With weapons."

The extent of his training thus far went little beyond play or basic bodily study: horseback riding, woodcraft, wrestling, healing arts. All things to the delight of young boys, which made it easier, and more preferable, for Gilraen to ignore the ugly truth therein: that he was indeed training, and not for any game. She let herself cling to the fantasy, to their innocence, for one last moment, or so it seemed. When she retrieved her cider, it was lukewarm.

"Well, yes. So be it. His age is not inappropriate, even. One of his stature and maturity might have been started with the blade already, in the Angle, and especially being-- who he is."

Elrond leaned forward, taking her hand in his. "Such is one benefit," he said, "of dwelling here, that your son lives neither in danger nor fear, and need not hasten towards manhood. However, we would be remiss at this late date to delay any longer the inevitable. It is time."

"I know." His face had turned grave. She shook her head and offered a smile. "I know you're right. I'm being a silly mother, is all. He's growing too fast!"

Some tension remaining, Elrond smiled. "They always do, I assure you."

*******

Notes:
*Estel's 10th birthday presents are not canonical elements.

*******

*******

The knock on her door came too early in the morning to be good news. Jolting out of bed, Gilraen immediately began to dress, calling "Come in!" even as she raced to open the door herself.

On the other side stood an Elf looking mildly affronted, one hand drawn away as if from a hot stove. "I was coming. And there is no need to shout."

"You'll have to excuse me," said Gilraen, sympathizing little. Only Telmoth could wake someone at this hour and still fuss over etiquette. "I feared something were amiss. But--" Just as Gilraen took in the garb that Telmoth wore, she stepped aside gesturing that she came not alone.

"I have just ridden in. You are right that something is amiss."

Gilraen darted into the hallway. Elrond stood there, as she knew he would; Telmoth held her tongue for none other. "Tell me plainly, I beg you," said Gilraen, come close enough to read his face in the dimness. "Has something befallen my son?"

He raised his hands. "No."

That one word broke the tension, and she slumped forward, dizzy for relief. "I feared--" the worst, she could not finish. When arms came around her, it seemed easier to breathe, to think, amid the warmth. Telmoth moved then to stand within view. "Tell me your tidings."

The Elf glanced up before replying, "Alas, the Dúnedain commander, Valcirion, has perished. He is survived by his wife and children, and will be succeeded by Gilbarad. Your kinsmen mourn, but send to you their good wishes."

Gilraen allowed herself a deep breath before stepping back to meet Elrond's eyes. "How did he fall?"

"He had taken to sickbed, so Telmoth was told."

After a moment, she said, "That is a strange end for a man of his high lineage, despite getting on in age. I remember from my youth how he was always so hale! Save for these last few years as I heard, but even falling ill on occasion, for him to die, to die--"

Telmoth interrupted, "Come now, Gilraen, you have begun to shiver. Let us get you something warmer to wear than that shift. If you must be treated for exposure, I will never be permitted to forget this night." To Elrond, she said, "We release you to your obligations, Master."

Gilraen was back inside her room, robed, and seated before she realized it. Telmoth continued then, "Elrond did not wish to wake you. I insisted on your behalf. Was I right in adjudging that this is as you would have it?"

Unbidden memories came, of the night when she learned of Arathorn's death. The sound of hoofbeats had awoken her, but she did not mark the hour; just knew that two horses approached when there should only be one. She came with dread to see beyond the bedroom window Arathorn's riderless horse, and grim-faced Gilbarad dismounting. A moment later, they stood one on each side of the threshold.

"You are a widow."

"Your wife is not. Go to her." They made no eye contact before she closed the door. In the bedroom, she watched Aragorn sleep, and in the poor light, strove to memorize every inch of his face, that the memory of Arathorn's be less vivid thereby.

Presently, she sat upon an empty bed. Estel had long since slept in his own room. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that without him she would be alone.

Telmoth spoke again, "You were close to this man, Valcirion. His widow spoke fondly of you."

"I knew them better in my youth, ere I married and left my family's home. I befriended their last child, a daughter close to my age, and their oldest son had children that I would look after."

"I am sorry for your loss, and that of his family."

"My uncle has a son now, seven years old already. If Gilbarad is to take Valcirion's place--" Gilraen blinked, sat straighter. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I never asked of your family, Telmoth. You stayed in Lothlórien for years, were you visiting relatives?"

"My relatives left these shores long ago, one way or another." The Elf lit the lamp sitting at the bedside, and made to leave. "It is good to be home," she said by the door. Referring to Rivendell or to the West, Elvenhome, Gilraen knew not.

***

-clang!-

"I have not seen him," replied Glorfindel, all sincerity.

Which did not exactly answer Gilraen's question, so she rephrased, "Can you tell me where he is?"

The Elf was again focused upon his task, plunging the horseshoe he shaped into a basin of water, and spoke haltingly over the hissing steam, "I fear not." Then he ducked away to where Asfaloth waited nearby and checked the shoe's fit.

Gilraen considered her next words, saying when he returned, "Can you tell me how I might find him?"

He paused, opened and closed his mouth, then smiled. "Elrond was unspecific in this, so I shall say, 'I do not know'."

And we shall be here all day, Gilraen did not reply, trying to rub away the ache from her head.

Glorfindel must have noticed. With a nod to the forge he said, "This heat is insufferable, I know."

He was absorbed in his work again, and she said truthfully, "It's not the heat." Rather this: that daylong she had sought for Elrond to no avail, that among the household no one knew more but said less than Glorfindel, that it had happened similarly in the past, and that it would happen again. Unless she confronted Elrond with her displeasure. 'As your humble guest, I regretfully must insist that you be available to me at any time every day. You know how I worry. Lord.' Yes, Gilraen deemed herself as likely to say so this time as the last time or the next time.

"Well!" Holding up the prepared horseshoe, Glorfindel assessed it once more, and seemed satisfied at last. "I am finished here at last."

She followed him out to where Asfaloth waited, through waiting for her own part. Over the noise of the shoe being nailed in place, she said, "I have spoken with the stablemaster, and he said a horse will be made ready for me within the hour. Also I have left Telmoth with word of my leaving, though she should find no duties of mine unresolved. At this time of year, Ronduir holds the first outpost, and when I-- what?"

He had straightened and turned to face her, no mirth discernible in the sudden keenness of his gaze. "You would forego speaking first with Elrond, before carrying through with your plans?" Taken aback by his changed mood, Gilraen did not answer at once. His voice softened when he said, "Please, reconsider. I believe he would have words with you, and should like to see you off."

"That is as I would prefer it. But knowing not of his whereabouts or when he is expected to return, I feel compelled not to tarry on account of my ignorance." She paused, if Glorfindel would surrender any pertinent information. After his silence, she shrugged. "And since I cannot ask his counsel, I know not that he would say other than 'farewell'."

Glorfindel's smile reappeared. "Yet I have seldom known Elrond to say quite so little!"

"Maybe he would wonder at my hesitation. I would be loath to seem negligent of my duties thereby."

"I think that doubtful, but I doubt not that he would wonder at your absence."

About to respond, Gilraen noticed how Glorfindel seemed ready to do likewise, and could not but suspect that he knowingly stalled her. She sighed. "I must remember to discuss with him such situations as this, so as to better guess his opinion in the future if need be."

"Well, Elrond is not so unpredictable. For instance, what if you were to ask him, 'Should I depart, Master, without your blessings?'"

Gilraen smiled in turn. "He would give me that look of his, the one that makes me feel as a small child, and I would realize the foolishness of such a question."

"Then wait but a while; you may see that look soon enough!" With that, Glorfindel went back to his work, and began to sing a merry song. Its echo followed Gilraen back to the house, where she returned to make one last preparation.

In front of a mirror, she sat to braid her hair as suitable for a long ride on horseback. "Should I depart, lord, without your blessings?" She leaned forward, studying herself. "Should I remain, and assume it is free at the asking?"

***

Coming some time later into the stable, Gilraen was surprised to see Elrond dismounting ahead. An ostler stood ready to lead the puffing steed away; Elrond remained in place, looking at the horse waiting saddled with Gilraen's gear.

Approaching the mare, she secured another bundle, imagining 'that look' upon her back. "I had no idea you had gone, or where," she said, trying to sound more convincing than annoyed.

"I had no idea you would go this soon," he said.

"Well, not without your blessings, of course, but I assumed--"

"Of course.

Relief faded to disbelief that he posed no argument, indeed no conditions. Gilraen turned a suspecting eye on the Half-elf. Besides his seeming innocence, she noticed that he was somewhat soiled, disheveled. Behind him, the horse he had ridden in on partook of a long drink. "No leisurely ride have you returned from."

He raised his eyes as she clumsily amended the statement, for she had no reason to deduce that he had taken a leisurely ride, save that in her irritation it seemed most likely; but that forgotten irritation being unmentionable, she simply stuttered until changing the subject.

"So I mean to be back before Estel returns."

"Ten days will see you to the Angle and back, certainly. I shall look for you both at that time."

Together they walked outside, Elrond speaking the condolences he wished to have relayed, and Gilraen listening intently. As such, she did not notice Glorfindel waiting outside the doors until after she had mounted. He appeared prepared for an excursion of his own, the plain clothes he wore earlier replaced with garb suitable for riding, and Asfaloth laden with traveling bags.

As she sat considering the unlikelihood of this coincidence, Asfaloth pranced closer of his own volition, then circled. Glorfindel sighed at the display. "Yes, yes, we see you!" More impressed than his master, the horse shook his mane and pawed the ground. Glorfindel said to Gilraen, "This one is such a braggart, so proud of his new shoes that he must show them to everyone within view. And your fine mare has been eyeing the boundaries for days, hopeful of a good journey. Fit companions, us four!"

She turned from the Elf to Elrond, who looked predictably unmoved. Or unmovable. No sooner had Gilraen opened her mouth than Elrond said, "You had not thought to travel alone."

Most Elves phrased questions as statements more often than not, as if to spare Gilraen the need for her presence; not only was Elrond good enough to reveal the right answer by his choice words, but also he waited for response. "Actually, I had," she said.

He nodded in such an indulgent, knowing manner that she felt three feet high, and as many years old. "The road is days long, Gilraen, perilous without an escort. Glorfindel knows well its dangers."

"Yet the road is watched closely at this season, by your people and mine." Seeing that fail to affect, she added, "Telmoth rides alone."

"Telmoth is a warrior," said Elrond, somehow both sterner and plainer.

She glanced to Glorfindel, noting the engraved sheath of a sword amongst his gear in contrast to the white cloak gathered to one side. His looks were deceptive, as any who had watched him in the sparring ring would know; still, she fancied the Angle ill suited to lodge an Elf-lord in comfort comparable to the House of Elrond. "I know it is not ideal, my traveling alone-- I only hoped not to cause an inconvenience, and to leave as soon as may be."

"But it is my pleasure, and we may depart forthwith." Glorfindel bowed his head.

Elrond said, "And it is my desire."

Gilraen looked from Elf to Half-elf. Between them, no hint of surprise, nothing to indicate that anything she had said or done struck either unexpectedly. It occurred to her that Elrond, having just returned, must have consulted Glorfindel, assigned him to accompany her, before Elrond rode away this morning, before Gilraen had spoken to anyone of her intentions. Before even I had decided?

She nodded at last, if Elrond waited for it. "As you wish." He smiled then, and followed to bless them at the beginning of their road. For long after, Gilraen could only shake her head with pursed lips. Elves!

*******

Notes:
*Naturally, the death of Valcirion (being a non-canonical character) is not a canonical element.

*******

***

Gazing up at the stars, Gilraen lay less tired and more thoughtful than the previous nights. It would be their last camp on the road before reaching the Angle, and she found some apprehension had surfaced as they neared. Frequently, her thoughts turned to Valcirion. With his passing came memories of similar incidents, Arathorn's death foremost among them. She yearned to stand beside her kinsmen against this new grievance, an urge that had not struck her so strongly for years. Yet a part of her cringed, guiltily, to know that family had been present at her own time of need, while she arrived to pay condolences weeks after Valcirion's funeral.

Beyond the campfire, she could see Glorfindel standing alert but silent nearby. He had kept watch throughout each night, she knew, and still marveled at the tirelessness of the Firstborn. If there is rest to be had sitting in a saddle with open eyes, only an Elf could find it.

In that moment he turned towards the fire, and smiled at her. "Do you sleep as an Elf, lady, or do you sleep not at all?"

"Nay to the first, alas." She arched up to adjust the bundle ill serving as a pillow. "If I were an Elf, my body would not ache as it does after any unfamiliar use, and I could sing such sweet songs as I have heard these past days."

"As to the last, you could surely learn." Coming closer, Glorfindel crouched to tend the fire. "The wood-charms I know are not of my making, yet being no bard by trade, even I can weave them easily enough."

Gilraen paused to make a translation of an uncommon term he used, before saying, "A blessed path beneath me, and even with an Elf-lord protecting it, still I cannot sleep." At that, she sat up completely. "And I am poor company to have sat lost in my thoughts while you minded our road these past days. Forgive me that. I am grateful to you, despite what it might seem."

"Nonsense," he said softly, waving a hand. "You mourn, and I commiserate." She watched as he stood, shining in the firelight like some golden statue from an Age long past. He looked left to right, presumably listening also --a demonstration of his 'casual caution', as she thought of it-- before speaking again. "By tomorrow, we shall have seven days left to us, three of which must be reserved for our return journey. You do mean to spend the remaining four among your kinsmen, yes?"

His tone was changed, distant or calculative. "That long is not necessary, for my purpose. To pay my respects to Valcirion's family, wish well his successor... no, I should not keep you waiting four days."

His eyes widened as he replied with laughter, "Keep me waiting? But no! Elrond has set other deeds upon me to accomplish, after seeing you safely to your kinsmen. If the weather remains mild, your glad escort will require two days counting from the Angle, ere he could return to see you home." In a sober tone, he added, "Or I need not arrive so soon, if there are private ceremonies which my presence might disrupt."

Considering what she knew of elvish burial customs, Gilraen concluded that Glorfindel might feel equally as ignorant regarding that of her people. I've spoken so little during this journey, and said nothing of my purpose. It should be no surprise that he's drawn such conclusions as that I go to a confidential service. She explained that Valcirion's body would have been buried as soon as may be, and any formal proceedings already enacted.

"It used to be different, still would be, if not for us being strewn throughout the land as we are, and so often beset. Since I was a child, I've heard our elders bemoaning 'old ways compromised for new days'. I suppose it is inevitable."

"Aye, so it would seem."

Gilraen watched without surprise his expression turn to sadness. She had never heard an Elf speak of change with any other consequence. They agreed then that Glorfindel would depart from the Angle to return at his convenience, but within four days' time.

"Unless my mother catches sight of you, for then I fear you may be compelled to sit for a meal."

The Elf smiled. "Well, we shall see."

He moved back into the shadows, his surveillance resumed. Gilraen decided not to warn him of the truth in her statement: all in the Angle well knew that none escaped Ivorwen's kitchen unfed. She fell asleep soon after, composing a menu of dishes to Glorfindel's liking from the ingredients her mother used to keep in supply.

***

"Gilraen."

She looked up to meet the keen gaze, and habitually improved her posture, removing one elbow that had crept onto the table. "Yes, mother?"

Ivorwen smiled, creasing her noble but aging features. "You have been home for two days now, much to the delight of your family and friends. You do know how welcome you are, of course?" Gilraen nodded, and her mother continued with her initial tone, gracefully direct, "But you needn't have troubled yourself by making this trip to relay Elrond's condolences."

"No, I imagine Telmoth made that gesture instinctively. Even so, she does not speak for me."

"Nor is her company as pleasant!"

While her mother settled back in her chair, chuckling, Gilraen gave a noncommittal shrug, but concurred with some empathy, "Elves." Then to change the subject, "And it was no trouble for me to come."

"Yet you must leave so soon. A pity, that."

Gilraen fell quiet, reluctant to extrapolate on the logic of her schedule, that she would return in time to welcome her son home. Initially, she had spoken openly with her kinsmen of Estel, garnering varied reactions. Of his renaming, most were inclined to think it an honour. But of his continued fosterage, some were dubious; only the boldest among them spoke to her of the Angle's safety these past years, even suggesting that Arathorn's son be brought home for the remainder of his childhood. Surprised by that much, she resolved not to reveal that Estel calls Rivendell home, and Elrond father.

The older woman had stood, and spoke now over her shoulder from a counter nearby, "Oh, but your father and I are overjoyed to see you, for any reason or amount of days. Next time --and soon!-- you must bring Aragorn for a visit." Clucking her tongue, she frowned at Gilraen's correction, plunking down the dishes she brought to amplify her reply. "In my own home, I may call my grandson by his rightful name as I please. If Master Elrond is half as gracious as his reputation, he would not object as you do."

Gilraen was still smiling when her mother sat again. "Elrond is so gracious that you would name your grandson after this muffin if it was all he asked of you."

Her hand waving seemed to dismiss the possibility as much as it offered more options. "Have some fruit, too, dear, and here, we've no shortage of butter. Now! Gilbarad tells me the boy is growing into a fine young man."

Gilraen dropped her knife. "Well, Gilbarad should know better. Estel is only ten! More 'young' than 'man' by several years, I should say."

Her mother's eyes flashed knowingly over the brim of her cup. "You would say that, as his mother."

"And you would know! Having your way, I would still be living under this roof -- well," she gestured out the kitchen window, towards the house, "that roof. Too young to be a wife, too young to be a mother, too young for aught but housework. Think you that I've forgotten?"

"I think me your memory is full of more holes than mine." Ivorwen paused to admire a plump apple, from her own garden if Gilraen could judge the proud look. "That was your father who lamented those things, when it became obvious his little girl grew into a ripe woman; one who soon had every bachelor in the Angle turning his head. 'Twas I who said you were more 'young' than 'lady' when those hopeful suitors came knocking, but that fact was even less of a deterrent than Dirhael's hard glare."

Together, they laughed. Once composed, Gilraen decided to defend her femininity. "It's true I was of a mind in my youth to care more for horses than embroidery. But I was not so unusual by the time I was turning heads, as you say."

Ivorwen shook her head, eyes lowered to the table, surface as worn as her hands after years of kneading and cutting and washing. "Ah, but you were. Say 'special' instead, if you prefer, but you were. And seeing it, Arathorn desired you all the more, I deem."

Gilraen felt her breath catch, and sighed just as abruptly. I can talk about him here, name him freely. And yet, she found nothing to say. But everyone here knew him, and so many are lost amongst us that we speak more of the future; not like Rivendell, when I cannot reminisce aloud for fear of being overheard, though all the house echoes with stories of the past.

"Nemendil means to stay."

Blinking at the sudden change, Gilraen said, "Does he?" Of all Valcirion's children, she knew his middle son, Nemendil, least closely. He had moved away from the Angle in the same year of her marriage. Yesterday had been their first meeting since.

Her mother went on, "Returned from the Sarn Ford with his younger brother to see their father laid to rest. Of course, Rochil has a new wife that he hurried home to. But Nemendil means to stay, even to inherit his father's residence."

After a moment's deliberation, Gilraen thought she gleaned her mother's direction; as little as it pleased her, she wanted to be certain. "I'm sure his mother will be glad to have some company in that old house."

Ivorwen bristled. "It's a nice house, spacious and sound. Just needs an able woman's touch and some laughter in the halls again." Gilraen glanced up, as discouragingly as she could, but her mother's face stayed tilted away. The aged woman shrugged. "My subtlety is not what it used to be, but my foresight is sharper sometimes these days then ever before. So think not that you can discredit my words on account of their plainness. Nemendil came knocking for you, and I see no cause to turn him away."

"No." Gilraen stood, unexpectedly angered by her mother's suggestion, and to a lesser degree, hurt. She busied herself by checking that everything they had prepared for the day remained prepared, though her thoughts were more reasonable. She pictured Arathorn, an old habit never discarded; his temperament, unshakable despite any circumstances, comforted her always. And that she did still think of him only served to fortify her first impulse. "You may tell Nemendil, or I will, but the answer is and will remain no."

Calmer, she returned to the table.

"He wed, not long after you and Arathorn," said Ivorwen, as if to herself. "But she died in childbed, three summers ago; first such tragedy in a decade. Broke his heart, poor man, to lose his wife and heir. He would not so much as look at another woman over the longest time, went about electing himself for the most perilous duties and would not be gainsaid. Seeing him now though, even in the wake of his father's passing, he is clearly much improved. Nay, he'll not again be ruled by grief. Ah, you did not even suspect such an ordeal had befallen him, did you?"

Nemendil had looked to Gilraen twenty winters beyond his age, and indeed, she had failed at first to recognize him. But she said, "No, I did not wonder," before smiling beseechingly. "As I recall, Nemendil has always been a strong man. Alas for his ill fortune, yet if he has overcome the worst of it, I am heartened. Now let us do likewise, and speak of something else! I was amazed that father and Glorfindel had such a long conversation when we supped together. Did I tell you --wise Elf-lord though be may be-- that Glorfindel doubted he would be convinced to stay for even one meal?"

"I was about your age, thirty-four years past, when I brought you into this world, as was my sister when she bore your cousin Artanel."

Gilraen rested her head in her hands. "Mother, please, be not so stubborn."

"I am stubborn, as any woman should be after a half century of being right more often than not." Her tone changed to gentle persuasion, "My only care is for you, Gilraen. Would children, a family, not bring joy anew into your life?"

Just then, Dirhael stepped into the kitchen, the room falling silent as suddenly. Gilraen sat facing the door, and saw her father's face betray immediate discomfort. She suspected that he had some idea of what subject his entrance had interrupted. Also, she thought to glean his opinion on the matter; that he stood no more willing than she to argue with Ivorwen.

She went to take from his arms the wood he had gone out to chop. "Thank you, father." Then turning to the table, "Mother, I have a child, the grace of a family so extended that I am still learning their many names, and good reason for living as I do. Nemendil is a fine man and I wish him well, but the path he seeks is not mine. I am going into the house now, and if you sit with me by the fire, I would tell you about your grandson, the people he loves, the house Arathorn wished his heir to grow up in, and why. Will you not come?"

Ivorwen arose, standing wordlessly for a moment before collecting a tray. "If it would make you happy."

It is not about me, Gilraen bit her tongue to refrain from saying. As they walked together towards the house and the setting sun, she heard her father release a long breath.

***

They had spent a full day on the trail, riding as hard as possible to make up for lost time, though encumbered by the results of recent rainfall. After setting a meal to heat, Gilraen crouched close by the campfire, warming her hands. Soon Glorfindel joined her.

"Our path should become easier, the further we go. I believe the storm turned west nigh here. If we can maintain this pace, our arrival should be on time after all. Oh, are you cold?"

Gladly, Gilraen moved closer to his side, her chills subsiding the moment his arm draped around her. They remained thus for a moment. "That tea will not boil faster from my eager stare, will it?"

Glorfindel laughed. "Nor from ours both combined, I fear."

She nodded, and sought for diversion in the absence of a hot drink. "You said that rain had plagued you on your road, but I meant to ask, was your mission accomplished despite the delay?"

"To Elrond's satisfaction, I hope." His voice turned thoughtful. "But I would not mind setting out again, even soon. Rivendell, not unlike any Elf-realm, is an island in many ways, beyond which the world moves quite differently. Almost an Elf can travel from Elrond's House to Lothlórien without getting wet. But if we intend to dwell offshore unenchanted land at need or desire, it is wise knowing what to expect."

They disentangled momentarily, settling close again with steaming mugs in hand. "And you, lady? Your family seemed well, when I last supped at their table. But had you other business with the Angle?"

"Yes. It is settled. Gilbarad is determined to visit Rivendell before long, and more often. In the meantime, I have brought his missives for Elrond. I think I will not have need to return soon."

"Had you desired to?"

She considered that for a moment, next considering how to put her feelings into words, and words an Elf would best understand. At length, she said, "It is good to be home."

***

2945

***

Gilraen roused to the sound of giggling, and straightened, blinking her eyes clear in time to see two Elves dash behind a less excitable crowd. Beyond them, she thought to catch a glimpse of a grey cloak billowing under dark hair shorter than most. No one moved near the exit when she peered again without obstruction. At once she felt annoyed and anxious, finally concluding that not all of her wits have yet returned from slumber. As if to assist in that, thunder rumbled outside.

Beside her, Telmoth smoothed her clothes at the shoulder, where Gilraen's head had rested for she knew not how long.

"Oh, I beg your pardon. Were you speaking when I drifted off?"

"Not I, but you were." The Elf chuckled into her goblet, returning it to the floor empty. "Well, with the minstrels themselves seeming tired this eve, their music must be partly to blame for your lapse." The Elf raised a knowing eye and added, "Though it has been dull here in days past without affecting you so."

"I have not been sleeping well of late," she admitted, remembering then the subject of their earlier conversation. Estel had left again into the Wild with Elladan and Elrohir as guides. Even after four years, Gilraen had yet to grow accustomed to their venturing, each time further and longer than the last.

At the sound of rising wind, she forced her attention off the budding storm that Estel would endure unsheltered, focusing instead upon more immediate surroundings. The Hall of Fire remained at about the same occupancy as her last waking memory, making it difficult to guess the time elapsed since then.

"I believe he has retired," said Telmoth.

Gilraen realized where her gaze lingered: upon Elrond's empty chair. "When did he depart?"

"Shortly after you, and with more grace if I may say." Gilraen stood up in a start, and the Elf grasped her arm as soon. "Sit, sit, I shall cease my teasing!"

"No, I thought--" Gilraen looked back. "I am remembering that I had been mindful of how he seemed preoccupied tonight." She paused to humor Telmoth's look with a nod. "Maybe not abnormally so, but when Estel is gone..."

"Then be seated. There is no trouble while Glorfindel remains." After showing a smug smile, Telmoth said the rest to the back of Gilraen's head. "Think not that you are the only one with talents of insight. Though Glorfindel has been merry-making, he is not oblivious to the cares of others, leastwise--"

"I do not see that he remains either."

Following her example, Telmoth rose to scan the Hall. One golden head shone in the firelight, belonging to a lady, and one silver, belonging to Lindir. Standing inches taller than Gilraen did not help the Elf mark any others; still, she bade the woman wait while questioning a passerby.

"Nay, lady, Glorfindel took leave, I know not when."

With a sigh, Telmoth addressed her companion. "I trust you would be notified of any cause for concern. But get you gone to investigate, if it would ease your mind."

Gilraen refrained from reminding the Elf that she had not sought permission.

***

Gilraen could still hear music from the distant Hall of Fire when someone appeared ahead, clad in the camouflage of Rivendell's wardens and walking full stride. She called out and hurried to intercept, identifying Ronduir by the brindle horse trailing after its master. His station and schedule should disallow this visit barring some unforeseen need.

"Ah, Gilraen, fortunate that I find you." Yet the Elf swiveled his head, as if seeking a replacement.

Close enough to see Ronduir's cheerless face through the dimness, she unconsciously gathered her skirt in fists. "You were sent for me?"

"Rather bidden to have you sent for if I could." He seemed reluctant enough to tarry that Gilraen assigned a hand to hold his bracer instead. Casting eager glances over her head, he continued, "I am in haste to depart with a rested steed. Lacking reinforcements at my behest, a watchman abandoned the field to assume my outpost ere I-" Gilraen had risen on the balls of her feet to impede his view of beyond, "-never mind. Glorfindel is in the square, he can explain. I must away. Esgaldîn, come!"

She passed the puffing horse at twice its speed, resigned that Ronduir would not abide longer diversion from his duty. Moreover, Glorfindel likely expected further tidings if he waited in the square.

When the Elf came into view, he stood facing her advance; a lamp he held aloft stressed the frown upon his face, and set his white-garbed form glowing like stoked coal in contrast to the pale fountain behind.

"Glorfindel, what occurs?" A sudden gale swallowed Gilraen's words. She proceeded blindly for the last few steps, striving to secure hair blown loose. Even as she repeated, thunder boomed overhead, while another wind loosed her hair from its bindings. Struggling for control over her effects and temper, she ignored Glorfindel's hand upon her shoulder until he had turned her full around. Then she reeled.

Aught displaced fell at once and stirred no more: the wind had died as though mid-breath. Still she trusted her eyes less than through a net of hair as before.

Elrond sat before her, mounted and cloaked. His horse bore no traveling bags, and a glimpse of mail from under that mantle froze Gilraen's heart; she noted next the hilt of a blade, then had seen enough.

"Forgive me. I would that we meet under proper circumstances," he said, strangely reserved.

"Or not at all?" spoke Glorfindel in the same tone.

Excluded from the unspoken exchange that followed between these two, Gilraen's impatience grew. Unthinking she grasped for where the horse's bridle would be, if Elrond rode with one, clutching his person instead as some babe unable to speak.

He blinked at the contact, regarding her once more. "I ask permission to speak in your name that Estel would be compelled, for his own sake."

Behind her, Glorfindel shifted. She said, "What? I mean yes, of course, but why?"

"I go to retrieve your son," said Elrond dully.

Gilraen forgot herself to grip him two-handed. "Then he is in danger."

After a pause, he bent down that they were nearer. "No, for he is among my sons, and within Rivendell still." But without now the favor of Master Elrond, Gilraen suspected, and feared most of all. He straightened to continue, such intensity in his face as she associated with dire insight. "I may intercept ere they pass beyond these borders. At which time, I think he shall contend my will, if not ours united." Fixed then under his measuring eye, she could not but consent again.

With a sharp nod, his horse backstepped to make way and was off. Gilraen watched after them until her arms grew tired, outstretched as if still holding onto Elrond for dear hope. She let them fall to ache empty at her sides, for a while pretending to admire the sky deepening to night --where no storm remained-- and trying not to contemplate brash deeds of her own.

"These valley walls play such games with the wind, at times."

She turned. Glorfindel had resumed his customary light tone and untroubled expression -- though Gilraen wondered if in better light his eyes would betray him nonetheless. As to his art of speaking without really saying, she would discover. "Ronduir said you could explain."

The lamp flared in brief disturbance; Glorfindel set this upon the fountain edge, speaking carefully as ever. "Ronduir learned that the trio adopted a change in plans. As they set off upon a path other than that of which Elrond approved, he took it upon himself to deliver these tidings." When Gilraen made no reply, he gave a small bow.

"And?"

The Elf executed his most disarming smile. "And Master Elrond took minor offense that his opinions went overlooked. Do not worry! All will be well."

"Of course. Well. I do not mean to interrupt your duties. Waiting to see Ronduir off?"

"Indeed I am. Good night, lady." Another bow and he seemed sufficiently dedicated to his own affairs, perhaps taking a short nap before Ronduir happened by, or else making it his business to stand very quiet in the meantime.

She paced backwards before strolling casually towards the main house, and once inside, tore up the nearest stairs. A window by the start of one hallway faced the courtyard; this she edged beside and waited, then peeked through it. Glorfindel's lamplight flickered beside the fountain below. No footsteps came or went that she could hear.

On Gilraen hurried to Elrond's quarters undetected, and closed herself inside.

***

Elrond kept what Gilraen had always considered a small library in his personal chambers, though the loremaster referred to this area --bookcases and all-- as his office. Excluding a few choice tomes presented for Estel's education or amusement over the years, she had never known exactly what might be found therein; but she could guess, and had done so correctly.

Some time after lighting his candles with his matches from his drawer, yet before finding what of his knowledge she sought from violating his journals concerning his life, she collapsed into his chair and wept. What if he finds me, or knows I came? Such fears gave way to one worse. What if he does not, and I keep the lie? But worst of all that Estel traveled she knew not where, and for what purpose even Elrond would not abide.

Gilraen wiped her face dry and studied the next parchment before her. In Elrond's ornate script, it began: '2509 Enderi 3'

When she finished she sat back. It was the 1st. She looked towards a window, where the first hint of dawn grayed the night sky. Where has the time gone? She stood and began arranging everything back in its original place. With an armful of scrolls that belonged to a nearby chest, she turned, yelped for surprise, and dropped every piece.

Glorfindel stood three paces in from the doorway; two doors he must have opened to come this far, yet Gilraen had heard not so much as a breeze. "What do you do here? How long have you stood there?"

"I have leave to be here," he said, very plain. "And I have been here long enough."

"Well." Flustered, Gilraen bent to gather the scrolls. "I have leave to -- excuse me!" He stepped aside that she could kneel before the chest, watching as she replaced them one by one, taking time to remember which came out in what order. "To make my son's business my own. To know of his, of what, that he..." She rested her head against the closed lid. Glorfindel said nothing. "Will you tell Elrond?"

"Should he inquire." The Elf moved to the desk. "Which I do not expect." She stood, but did not face him. "If all of your answers were so clear, I need not have done this."

"Some questions it is not my place to answer." His voice wavered at that, in regret or something else, steady again when he said, "Neither do I accept responsibility for this trespass."

"I do not ask you for that." Gilraen turned with sudden courage. The Elf finished ordering the desk. She had forgotten the effort when better light revealed how aught touched showed prints in the dust. "But I foresee, lord, there will come a day when you forsake what may be expected of you for what you judge right to do in your own mind."

Balking at her own words as he faced her, his stunned look perhaps mirrored her own. They remained for an uncounted time; but the candles wasted in the early dawn when the nearest door flew open. Elrond entered, gaze downcast and buried in a flurry of cloth as he flung off his dusted cloak and not a few leaves with it. He stood motionless, as though contemplating, before seeming to take first notice of his company.

Glorfindel gave his customary small bow while Gilraen fidgeted awkwardly. When her turn came, she endured Elrond's expressionless regard as best she could. When that gaze become stern shifted to the desk, all the candles went out.

"If not for my haste, I would have explained," he said, very nearly as plain as Glorfindel had first spoken. Elves adopted such toneless tones at times when Men's voices would rise in anger.

Elrond made a motion that might have been a head toss, or a signal to Glorfindel. "Help me," he said, moving towards the bedroom, one hand unfastening his belt. The Elf followed, and from within Gilraen heard the rattle of chain mail, as she carefully did not rattle the door handle behind her.

***

Finally, she found Estel. He leaned cross-armed against the stable door, one of Elrond's sons beside him in like fashion. At her approach, the Elf-man sprang up straight and guarded, while her son continued his study of the horizon with undue diligence.

"Estel, it is past dawn!" she said, suddenly exasperated and at a loss for other words at seeing him so casual.

"I have no curfew. Elrond released me this day to do as I--"

"You did not think of coming first to your mother? I had been sick with worry!"

His gaze dropped and softened considerably to meet hers. "Well, I might have, but we were talking, and Elrond left some time ago, so I supposed-- I'm sorry, I should have." His arms recrossed, stubbornness manifesting again. "But I never was in danger, mother, whatever you heard."

"You were in danger of betraying Master Elrond's blessings, and that is danger enough." Her words came harsher than intended. She sighed and pleaded, "Did you know, Estel?"

The Elf-man had seemed almost to speak with every breath, and visibly restrained himself while Estel answered, "Of our purpose, yes. I did not know he would have forbidden it."

"For that, Elladan yet holds father in the wrong," Elrohir broke in. "For my part, hindsight shows things more clearly to me. I should not have been persuaded that Estel become involved. Forgive me, Gilraen." He bowed with hands upon his chest.

"Still," Estel murmured to himself, "what real difference it makes, I cannot tell. We set out to track orcs, and one orc suits as fine as another."

Much of Gilraen's apprehension dissipated when her son admitted no deliberate wrongdoing. She embraced him at last, saying, "Tracking enemies for practice may be well and good, but taking Master Elrond's permission for such and stretching it along with you on some ritual ambush is a difference plain as day."

Elrohir did not suppress a toss of the head in full, and said before her resulting glare, "We help to keep open the Redhorn Pass. It is for the benefit of all."

"Including your personal gratification. I believe you!" she said, not relishing his distraction. "But I do not believe this particular tour, coinciding with the very anniversary of lady Celebrían's unhappy trial, was wrought by goodwill equal to vengeance."

He drew back a bit and frowned. "As said already, I pray you forgive me. Yet it may prove possible that lessons worthwhile come even from such a thing." Her son eyed him now, making Elrohir seem unsure how to continue, or if. He relented, "Perhaps it is more of a vice that we share, my brother and I; and perhaps your son being halfway to manhood we took for a brother in arms with whom to share all things. If we erred as well in that--"

"No." Gilraen did not need her son's anxious look to remind her how invaluable the involvement of Elrond's kin to Aragorn's destiny. "But begin at the beginning, as proper to teach one who is halfway a child still. Favorite songs, written words, family history -- are there no innocent ways to honor your mother's memory that keeps me not awake all night nor drives your father to such a state that even the wind flees afraid?"

Smiling faintly at that, the Elf-man bowed once more. "Let us hope."

*******

NOTES

2509 is the year Celebrían was waylaid by Orcs heading to Lothlórien on the Redhorn Pass. At their hands, she endured torment and a poison wound, before rescue by Elladan and Elrohir. Elrond healed her in body, but she lost delight in Middle-earth and left over Sea the next year. For the purposes of this story, month/date Enderi 3 serves as the anniversary of that attack.

*******

*******

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."

*******

2951

*******

Flower petals.

Gilraen nodded to herself in conclusion of long speculation. From afar, she had espied colorful but unrecognizable debris scattered about the courtyard. At times of merrymaking, the Elves were wont to decorate with any manner of thing pleasant to see or smell. She was not aware of this particular occasion, and thought little more of it.

Glorfindel had dismounted at the bridge, where he and some Elves there engaged in conversation, while Gilraen went ahead to settle the horses. Now she rode upon and through the square made so festive to the stables beyond.

Some time later, she came back to the main house.

"Hail, Nimros, I have a sachet for you from Lothlórien. Shall I leave it here on the ladder?"

"Who is that? Oh, Gilraen, yes, thank you. What ladder?"

Up maybe the height of two men, the Elf balanced and reached precariously from a ledge to unbind a banner hanging on the wall. Indeed there was a ladder propped aside him; probably an after-thought of some Elf passing by, and Nimros had failed to notice their courtesy. She wanted to know how else he got up there as little as to watch him come down. "I shall just leave it here then."

Half-dreading a cry or racket to echo behind, she made her way to the rooms of Elladan and Elrohir, who were afield with her son this time of year. Letters for each had come recently from the Grey Havens, and the warden of the first outpost after the Ford had entrusted their final delivery to her.

In Elrohir's room, she shuffled through the envelopes, also finding and separating those for Elladan. She faced the bed, and would have seen it peripherally upon entering, but looked again without clear reason.

For an instant, it seemed that Elrohir must be lying there. Dark hair spread out on the pillow came foremost to her startled recognition. Then the body sat up, that of a lady beyond fair. Yet certain they had never met, Gilraen thought her familiar, as from a portrait or dream half-remembered.

She stepped back, abashed for her mistake and trespass, saying, "I beg your pardon!" at a loss to offer aught else, too shocked even to bow.

The lady swung bare feet to the floor, looking inquisitive but kindly upon her intruder. "Good day; but I regret to have startled you."

Just as she drew breath to politely deny that, Gilraen bumped into a chair, and had not realized she was retreating. "Forgive me, I thought this room to be empty. I would have knocked! But these letters," without really looking, she lay them upon the nearest flat surface, "come from the Grey Havens, for Elrond's sons."

"My brothers," said the lady, nodding. Her brief smile at mention of kin faded to austerity. She stood up. "Truly, you have ridden from Mithlond?"

"Your brothers--" At once Gilraen understood. The flowers tossed up and the banners rolled down in celebration of her homecoming: Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Lady of Rivendell, of whom Gilraen had learned long ago by accident, keeping the revelation to herself ever since. She drew forward as proper and curtsied. "Nay, lady, I am merely returned from visiting the Angle where dwell my kinsmen."

"Ah, then you are Gilraen." No longer curious, no less courteous, Arwen took up Gilraen's hand in greeting. "Well met! I inquired just yesterday as to your chair empty at mealtimes. My father explained things."

Gilraen could think of nothing else to say, assuming that 'things' entailed the situation with her, her son, and his identity concealed. As if anticipating the lapse, Arwen went on.

"Now I wonder if you would excuse me. I see the shadows have lengthened far since I lay me down in reminiscence, and I would not tarry here longer than my wont, lest father walk alone ere supper. Be well, Gilraen, surely we shall meet again soon."

Some time after the Lady had gone, Gilraen remembered where she stood, and carried on with the day's chore. Her final delivery, to Elrond, she left at the stoop of his door.

*******

*******

Yestereve they had returned, Elrond's sons and hers. Telmoth came to find Gilraen in the storehouses where she tallied well into night, and told her of this.

"Elrond has revealed all, lady," said the Elf lastly.

Gilraen nodded and continued her work, more relieved that the three would forego the dining hall in favor of private rest and simple fare. Once finished, she retired late intending to rise late and break fast late, reuniting with her son somewhere along the way.

Not until the next day did the full significance of Telmoth's revelation dawn upon her, and she never did find Estel quite as expected. For at the breakfast table they said he just left, and at the stables they said he never came, and in the end she should have known where best to find one Lord in the house of another.

He stood in the archway of Elrond's hall and could easily have palmed the apex with extended arm. Stretched on the balls of her feet, Gilraen could barely reach a fingertip that far. And he was smiling happy as he looked out upon the day, taking in a breath of its air so deep and full it seemed as though he swelled with life itself. He let it go in a sigh, while a look of peace came into his face and did not leave.

Their eyes met and he came with full strides on legs that would grow longer still, and stronger. Older. For a moment all joy left Gilraen. The further you go from this place and the longer you stay gone the older you will grow and the sooner. The moment passed, joy returned. Her son stood before her a man.

When last they had parted, she needed not to bend her neck quite so steeply to meet his eyes. "Well, may I call you as I named you, finally?"

He laughed, saying, "I would be honored!" Then he bowed low into kneeling, and taking her hand kissed it and placed it against his temple. "Behold thy son who loves thee, and is pleased to greet thee proper for the first time, my mother, Gilraen wife of Arathorn." Looking up, jesting replaced his formality. "Unless you have your own secret identity to reveal."

"None other than that you have spoken already, Aragorn." With her free hand, she caressed his face, the unkempt beard prickling just as Arathorn's always had. He covered her hand with his own, the ring of Barahir gleaming in the sunlight, and drew himself up to his full height, if not yet his fullest. "You are your father's son," she said fondly. "Welcome home."

Though he made the barest flinch at that, glancing back towards the hall where Elrond remained within, his mood was undimmed. There together they spoke a while in the courtyard, until the sun began its slow sinking towards the horizon. Aragorn declined an offer to sit inside and talk for longer.

"I can barely stand in one place as it is. To sit me down now I think would require rope. With weights attached. And the chair nailed to a wall." He laughed at himself while Gilraen tried not to. "No, I shall take me for a walk in these fair woods while some sunlight lasts."

After kissing her brow, he trotted along his way, and never saw her standing conflicted with a strange reservation at his parting words, before growing cold and going inside.

***

"It is some form of Elf-magic." Gilraen went on without heeding the looks given her or those deliberately averted. "What keeps this valley ageless and unchanged, safe and protected. It must be some form of Elf-magic."

Elrohir gave a small shrug against the obvious tenseness of his frame. His focus left her as he idly spun the ring around his thumb. "I could not say."

"I know of the Three."

His hands stilled, and this time his shrug came more as a twist. Estel as a boy had occasionally done similarly, and when asked why, explained that he tried to get out of his skin that way. By the window, Elladan had not moved, though if he had lost interest, Gilraen would have lost his attendance.

"Come now, the both of you. If Elrond worried that I might learn as much, surely those particular texts would not have been among the rest for all these years."

Elrohir sat back with a smile and spoke without the restraint of before, "Ah, but whatever they may contain, my father cannot withhold books, never has. It is against his very nature to do so, I believe. Is that not interesting?"

"Not as interesting as magic rings."

Whirled at once, Elladan gave a sharp hiss for silence.

Gravely, his brother said, "Speak not of such things." Gilraen did her best not to smile, and may have appeared stricken thereby; for she had not been certain before then whether the Three were in fact rings, rather suspecting people, even Elrond himself.

Elrohir leaned across the table, taking her hands and saying softer, "It is not a subject for plain conversation, in these days."

"Please excuse me, I shall do as you advise." She waited that his bearing returned at ease before raising his left hand, thumb turned up. "If this too is one of those things not to be named, what might its talent be?"

Elrohir bowed his head with a groan. "It compels curious women to ask difficult questions on a regular basis."

"She asked if it were magic, not cursed," injected Elladan.

"And I asked your brother," said Gilraen, struggling to examine Elrohir's ring despite him shaking with laughter.

Elladan sniffed. "Well, I see that my welcome has expired. Good day."

Yet Gilraen saw him still straightening his face as he passed by the table. Elrohir too remained in good spirits after that initial warning. But they never spoke again on the subject.

***

Rings. Gilraen had never noticed so many rings. Most of the Elves in the dining hall wore at least one band of gold or silver. They shuffled and chattered amongst themselves, the precious metals glimmering here and there like stray fireflies. When all had seated themselves, her observations were limited to immediate company.

Elladan held a goblet with one unadorned hand as his brother beside him animated the other in the telling of some story; Elrohir himself had only the familiar bronze band; Lindir sitting across from him let not a single finger attend the feast undressed; Telmoth favored pearls, the only in view to have them in place of gems.

Gilraen relieved her cramping neck by considering the other side of the table a while. Glorfindel had no rings, or none that she could see underneath his strange bracelets of delicately linked gold covering the hand and attaching to the middle fingers; Elrond bore a ring of gold upon the first finger of his right hand, though at times it sparkled in the corner of her vision as peculiar for a slender and unjeweled ornament. The oddity kept her attention until she looked up expecting to have been caught at her game; but Elrond watched her son, quiet and intent.

For his part, Aragorn was failing where all others succeeded: not to stare upon the Lady Arwen. She marked the ring of Barahir once again, and unable to attract Aragorn's eye, followed the staggered cups until finding one closest to Arwen, before which her bare hands lay folded upon the table. Just then, the Lady reached aside to touch her father's arm. Gilraen focused forward. Aragorn did likewise and smiled at her quicker than expected of a guiltless man.

She made as small a motion as still noticeable towards Elrond at the head of the table. Since returning not long ago, Arwen had taken her place each supper at his left side. Presently father and daughter inclined over the table corner, dark heads barely touching while they spoke together and sat back smiling. As though the movement of one body, their hands closed the space between them and entwined.

Aragorn faced his mother again, wearing an expression she could not identify. He gave a single nod and his gaze did not find Arwen again that evening. Not until they moved later into the Hall of Fire, where the pattern repeated.

***

"I never spoke with Master Elrond of our talk," said Gilraen, for lack of something better, and instead of mentioning how poorly his adoration of the Lady Arwen had been concealed, poorer week by week.

Aragorn glanced up from his packing, and shaking his head, continued. "Nay mother, I know." After a moment, he laughed with little sound or humor. "That Elrond had been the first person to realize, after myself, I would not doubt. Nay, I have only myself to blame. And fate, mayhap." He sighed, yawned, and shook himself again.

If he slept at all last night, Gilraen would be amazed. He and Elrond had discussed these delicate matters just yesterday, leaving Aragorn nonetheless hopeful of Arwen's eventual hand in marriage, and Gilraen feeling compelled alternately to apologize for his cheek and apologize that Elrond had no say -- but of course he did, and of course Aragorn transgressed. Or not.

She paced the room as she had paced earlier that day in Elrond's study, unable to decide what to say or do, but decidedly unable to take after the Master himself. He seemed content to assuage her worries whilst revealing none of his own before changing the subject entirely.

If the advice of Elrond was to be heeded, naught should be thought of it at present. Gilraen wondered.

Only two years older than Aragorn now, she had wed Arathorn despite the counsel of her father. 'No man's child as yet.' She watched Aragorn, recalling what of his own conversation with Elrond he had related to her. Even now, his features were set as they had molded at the telling: resolute.

"It is not unreasonable, what he asks of you." Aragorn paused to eye her. She tied her shawl in a better knot for the third time. "Concerning the Lady Arwen and such, I mean. At least, I do not think so."

Her son shrugged in response, saying neither yes or no or both; but when passing her to fetch some items from a cabinet, he squeezed her hand, a comfort better than words.

Once all had been made ready, he slowed, as though each movement took an effort of consideration, or courage. He donned his belt after securing the sword, shouldered his pack after gauging its weight, reaching last and slowest for his cloak. Instead, his hand came to rest upon the hilt at his side. It remained there as the other returned his bag to the bed.

"First I shall go unburdened and give my farewells to the household." At the door, he stopped, half turned to where Gilraen remained behind.

Before he could, she spoke, "I only wish for you both to be happy."

He looked full away, then turned full back. "Arwen would know happiness with me." He said so as one who shared a secret of profound truth. His arm circled in a wordless gesture, the spread fingers returning to perch upon the sword hilt. "I know it, however that may be. I know it."

Graceful after years of practice, she nodded without hesitation, acknowledged without agreement, and sent him off promising to wait there for her own goodbye -- all in silent relief for his misunderstanding. Aragorn had not spoken alone from and of the heart, if he alone intended to.

After he left, she sat on the cold bed of his unlived-in room doomed to remain thus, hands clasped under bowed head. "So be it," she said softly to herself, "I only wish for you three to be happy."

***

Gilraen arrived the next morning, finding Elrond in his study as usual, where they exchanged happy greetings, unusual for the effort required. She had forgotten her journal riddled with notes and reminders, as she had in the past. If Elrond noticed, he did not offer her a blank parchment to substitute this time. Preoccupied. Gilraen understood all too well, and did not feel like writing in any case.

After seeming to remember her presence, Elrond sat initially without the volume he had held but not regarded by the window. Retrieving it, returning with it, opening it, he sat shoulder-sunken, shaking his head at the adjacent shelves full of dissimilar bindings. Gilraen inclined to glean the book lying open in his lap, both pages blank under pale hands. Hands she had held and even kissed before, but never recognized their wear, faint veins crossing less vague creases. Examining her own revealed little different.

There they remained, until the noonbells rang, when more out of habit than hunger they arose to attend the midday meal.

*******

2981

*******

"Those baked delectables your son so coveted in his youth, what did he call them... ah, apples in blankets! With rice cream."

"What!" Gilraen arched over the taller Elf's shoulder for a better view. She could see the riders approaching well enough, but from such distance, one dark-haired and fair-faced Elvish form seemed much the same as another. If indeed Arwen rode among them, Gilraen had lost the wager, and now would be obliged to cook according to Telmoth's desire.

Yet not easily would she abandon her own reward, to receive more exotic ingredients from the Grey Havens, courtesy of the voyages of Círdan's folk and of Telmoth's conveyance.

"I do not see the Lady," she insisted, though even so doing, thought disappointedly that she did at last.

"Nonetheless, I do. She has a thoughtful look. And riding up beside her, Elladan, trying as usual not to beam at his happy home. And asleep probably since across the Ford, Elrohir sits at her other side. And having joined them at the bridge, Glorfindel follows close behind, with Nimros, and--"

"Red apples, or green?" Gilraen focused her ire upon the deceptive absence of banners or flowers or even Elrond himself.

"Let no chef of mine suffer any restrictions of the sort!"

Gilraen returned the Elf's bow, and her sarcasm. "You are too kind." They continued their wait in silence, until the courtyard came alive with bustle and talk at the travelers' entrance. No sooner had they dismounted than some Elves of Elrond's household departed with one steed following at each hand, headed for the stables, while others made it their business to receive the two-legged guests.

Elladan and Elrohir were habitually succinct at this, returning so often exhausted from their exploits or eager to see their father at once; but Gilraen noticed Arwen too said little, and wondered why that should be. Though Telmoth named her look thoughtful, Gilraen would sooner say nervous. The Lady was adorned all in grey, and no jewels were visible upon her. Even as they had ridden, still she kept hooded and between her brothers: also grey-clad and indistinguishable. Some time ago, Gilraen wondered aloud why the twins ever rode with matching gear, even their steeds as identical as possible.

"Confusion can be a mighty weapon against your enemies," Elrond had answered. "And upon the field of battle, twin combatants, like those who wield blade in either hand, are regarded as a force to reckon with." Spoken as one who knew, but loremasters know so much, and Gilraen wanted no details.

Now she could not help eyeing the gap of the cloak Arwen fidgeted within; once contented that no sword hung at the Lady's side, Gilraen could comfortably appreciate the brethren their fighting tactics and their sister her simple camouflage.

The gathering dispersed as the travelers' effects were taken inside and those arrived went seeking rest or refreshment. Then as if hearing the same sound or thought, Elrond's children turned and came her way. They exchanged pleasantries and Telmoth had already begun to press the brethren for gossip when Arwen drew back her hood with gloved hands. She produced an envelope from a pouch at her side, and presented it to Gilraen.

It looked twice as though she almost spoke; when her words did come, they were halting. "I am reminded-- here. From your son, good lady." Gilraen thought she might say more on the subject; her eyes, at least, spoke of the desire to do so. Instead, she took Gilraen's free hand and raised it with a belated smile, saying quick and hushed, "We must meet later, us two alone," then louder, "For now, I take my leave of you all. Until we dine together this eve, good day."

Before Gilraen could respond, Arwen's handmaids came and escorted her away. At the same time, Telmoth excused them from the company of Elrond's sons. Gilraen followed her lead, not only because she had taken one wrist captive.

"Delayed any longer and they would have grown cross with us," said Telmoth, once out of hearing range. Inside, they stopped aside a window. The Elf frowned at the courtyard beyond, her arms crossed.

"Alas though, I had Elrohir nigh to confessing. He will resign to keep silent on the matter ere I get to him again. That missive had best prove remarkable indeed, whatever it reminded Arwen of." Telmoth pointed with her chin to the envelope still unopened in Gilraen's hand. "At least more noteworthy than whether or not our own Nimros shall have the Lothlórien bride of his asking."

Gilraen regarded the thing she held with newfound dread. "Estel my son, what have you done..."

***

Telmoth would have every available type of apple or pear from which to choose, all baked in pastry and ready for a bath of spiced rice cream.

From a bench where she rested outside, Gilraen admitted to herself she had toiled in the kitchens far longer than need be. It would be time for supper soon; she had barely finished her own task and not yet thought up another before the kitchen staff reclaimed their territory.

"Well! Desert has been decided for us, I see." One Elf stood balking at the sum of Gilraen's confections as another bemoaned the lost workspace while another saw her to the nearest exit with a breathless "Good day!"

She sat alone ever since, staring at her lap where Aragorn's letter lay unfolded. Since that morning, she had reread it so many times that by now her memory recited the words without leave.

'My dear mother,

'The folk of these Woods tell me you are well and content, living still in that fair house of my youth. I only hope time itself does not escape their reckoning, and this account holds true even now. My heart would be gladdened to know this letter finds you thus.

'As for me, I have traveled far and labored long, as to be expected. But of my deeds I bid you wait a while longer to hear in detail. Soon enough I will return, with plans of moving you by lavish stories as peace offering. Then may you forgive me my caution that I risked so few messages these past years.

'You can see that caution remains, though I will it less and try to make light. Yet if I must hold to old habits, even namelessly there is one thing I would have you know before all else. Be warned, it may surprise you.

'My word to him is broken. For here in this place, I met again she whom I first loved, whom I loved solely all the years after, and lo, so too does she love me now. Together we have dwelt since our reunion. Until the end, come it bitter or sweet, she has chosen to remain with me. We plighted troth under a Midsummer moon.

'This matter is difficult. I imagine you wedged midway and feel that I have put you there unfairly. It grieves me every day. When I come, I will endeavor to make better what I can. Meanwhile, find comfort however you might, be it in company, silence, or counsel. Just as I would not keep such a secret from you, nor could I ask you to do the same. Neither hesitate to leave the time and manner of this revelation to my beloved's discretion, if you rather. Maybe of us all, she knows her father best.

'Finally, take to your heart this reminder of my love that is with you always. Until we next meet.'

The last sliver of sun sank below the walls of the vale. Gilraen stood now before sealed doors, engraved with runes writ in copper. She remembered seeing them for the first time, so many years ago. They made no sense to her then, either.

"What is that you have there, lady?"

In the growing darkness of her thoughts and surroundings, she had failed to notice that anyone stood nearby. From the corner, four eyes shone at her, as if one wall were a mirror and one pair a reflection.

A second voice similar to the first said, "Father is with company just now. If you please, I would save you the trouble of returning later."

Realizing she held it aloft like some guest on tour, she folded the letter and tucked it away. "I have no delivery for him, thank you." She peered into the gloom, where one set of eyes disappeared under a bowing head. "Regardless, I must return. How long?"

Elladan left his shadow to turn alight the lamps hung at either door side. Able to see better, Gilraen noted the twins wore grey again, albeit clean and dissimilar. She would guess they had not rested, or too little; Elrohir leaned full against the wall, and his brother moved listlessly.

His task complete, Elladan turned towards his twin before turning towards Gilraen to answer for him. "Return no sooner than tomorrow, I guess."

Gilraen blinked, taken aback. The Elf-man mistook her surprise, and shrugged, adding, "Arwen is home--" he stopped short. Whether he swayed or merely flinched, Gilraen grasped his arms without thought.

The true cause of shock faced her still: upon seeing Elladan up close, his appearance so haggard came unexpected, if not mysterious. "I know," she said. He eyed her, then glanced back at Elrohir who watched the floor. She nodded. "I know, Aragorn told me. I'm sorry. I-- I don't know what else to say."

Elrohir made a scoffing sound. "Say nothing. She would not have, if not for our persistence." He laid temple in palm and fell silent. Elladan went to stand beside him.

It was not lost upon Gilraen that neither invited her to remain, nor that she had likely interrupted their own conference. She resigned herself to the least desirable, if most courteous, option.

No sooner had she decided and made to depart than the doors creaked in motion behind her. Arwen had emerged. She stood looking diminished before the grand entrance, pale against the lamplight, and sorrowful, if firm. Almost Gilraen pitied her; almost she forgot who remained behind those closed doors. Then a gleam of metal caught Gilraen's eye, and the ring of Barahir upon the hand of Arwen kept her attention.

Elrohir pushed off from the wall. "What did he say?"

Arwen did not stir for some time. Her first response was to look the only direction in which no one stood. "Naught."

As though filled suddenly with the nervous energy his sister had restrained that morn, Elrohir paced passed Gilraen and back twice. He stopped before Arwen and himself seemed to shrink, bereft of all vigor.

To words maybe unspoken, Arwen said, "Hast thou then, Elrohir, madest thy choice to forsakest Arda with our father, that thou judgest me now? Elladan, hast thou chosen thus?"

Silence. At length, Arwen stepped away from the doors, and her brothers. The meal bells rang out. Reverting to the Common Tongue, she said to Gilraen, "If you sit with me, good lady, we may have chance to talk some over supper. However, I beg you to release me from my promise of earlier, our tryst alone. My desire for rest is such that I shall forego even the Hall of Fire this night."

Nothing appealed less to Gilraen than food. She thanked Arwen for the honor and promised to attend.

***