Disclaimers: I don’t own the characters, and make no money from this.

2006 MC award nominee

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Aragorn stared into the room from the doorway before taking a few hesitant steps into Elrond's library. His steps brought him to stand before his father's great desk and he ran a hand lightly across the smooth surface. His thoughts drifted back into the past, touching lightly on his memories of all the times he had been in the room before. So often as a child, he had brought a book into this room and sat quietly in a chair, reading his book and glancing occasionally up to watch his father work at this desk, it's surface covered with papers and letters and the ever present ink quill. Other times, he had been called to stand before this desk to face a rather irate elf lord and give an accounting of whatever he had done to get himself in trouble that time. Luckily, he had more fond memories than uncomfortable ones.

A sigh escaped him as he realized that he would never be able to build more memories with Elrond, in this room, or anywhere else. Elrond had sailed, leaving the shores of Middle-earth forever. Aragorn knew that his father had finally grown too weary of Arda. With the waning of the power of Vilya, he could not bear to remain. Though he knew it was the best thing for Elrond, he could not help feeling sorrow at the thought that he would never see him again. This was his first visit back to Imladris since Elrond had sailed, and though there were still many elves who lived here, it seemed somehow…empty. He had always been able to feel his father's presence in this place, from anywhere within the valley. Whether it had been a real, physical feeling, or simply the safe feeling that accompanied the child's knowledge that a parent was nearby and would keep anything bad from happening, Aragorn did not know. All he knew was that the feeling he had always had here was missing. This was the place he had grown up, the place he had always yearned to go back to when he was traveling and far from home, and yet, it no longer felt like home.

'Home is not a place, but the people you love.' This was a lesson he had learned long ago, but he had always associated the word home with Imladris, knowing that Elrond would always be there, ready to welcome him back with open arms. When Elrond sailed, in a way, he had taken Aragorn's home with him.

The sound of bright, joyful laughter drifted to him from outside, and his lips curved upward in a soft smile. Elladan and Elrohir were still here, he reminded himself. Their joy in this world and this life had not yet faded. They would remain here for some time yet to come, and as long as they were here, this was still his home. A gentle breeze brushed his face, and he imagined he felt Elrond's hand, welcoming him home again.