Elrond and Celebrian share a quiet moment after her rescue from the orcs. This was written for the 'Middle Earth Express' challenge on the Aragorn Angst list for prompt #1: Lost.

Third place in the Best Emotional Torture category of the 2006 Mellon Chronicle Awards.

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Elrond sat beside the form of his wife on the bed they had shared for centuries. With a gentle hand, he brushed a cool cloth across her fevered brow. He was careful not to disturb her sleep, for she greatly needed her rest. However, her sleep was not restful. She wandered in a realm of nightmares, of monsters and pain. Though her physical injuries were well on their way to healing, there were injuries to her mind and spirit that Elrond did not know how to heal. Seeing her in such torment drove a spike of pain through his heart. If it were possible for him to take her pain on himself, he would not have hesitated.

A low moan from her caught his attention and he gently took her hand in his, letting her know that he was here, she was not alone in her torment. Her eyes slowly came into focus, and stared into his.

"How do you feel?" Elrond asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face, cursing himself for asking a stupid question even as the words left his mouth.

"Lost," she said simply, her voice a mere wisp of her usual lyrical tones.

Elrond closed his eyes in pain, then forced himself to open them and meet her tortured gaze. "I know," he whispered. "I know."

She brought a hand up to cup his face, and he leaned into the touch. "I do not wish to hurt you, my love, but I will find no peace here. Even in sleep, I return to that cave, and the pain I endured. My love for you and our children sustained me through that torment. I knew I would be rescued and return to you, and that thought enabled me to go on. But I did not realize then how badly they had hurt me. I cannot stay here Meleth-nin. My eyes are no longer capable of seeing the beauty around me. Instead of the beauty of my home, I see shadows and monsters everywhere I look. I will never heal from this as long as I remain in Middle-Earth."

"Iston, (I know)" Elrond whispered. Though he would give anything to keep his wife with him, he had known for some time that he would not be able to heal the injuries to her fëa. Not even the wealth of knowledge he had at his fingertips or the healing abilities he had acquired over the ages were able to help the one he loved most. Only the peace of Valinor could help her now. But how would he be able to continue without her? Knowing the thought was selfish, he did the only thing he could and gave her his blessing to leave.

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As he stood on the shores of the Grey Havens and watched his wife sail away, he felt many things, sadness, grief, pain, and some anger, but the overriding thing he felt was… lost.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or settings, or anything he created.

Author's note: This was written for the Aragorn Angst weekly challenge. Prompt # 2 is 'rain', and the story cannot be longer than 500 words. The word count for this particular story was exactly 500 words.

Summary: Aragorn is having a bad day.

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Aragorn groaned. This was the last straw. He couldn't take any more. It was time to go home, crawl under the covers, and retreat from the world.

His day had started out badly and become increasingly worse as the day progressed. First, he had overslept, missing breakfast. Next, when he was getting dressed, the leather strings on his pants had broken, making it necessary to change his clothes, causing him to be even later to the practice field. Then, when he finally made his way down to the practice field, he saw that his brothers had already started their lessons without him. He was supposed to be helping observe and train some of the men from nearby villages who had asked for help in learning the best way to fight orc incursions. It did not make a good first impression on the men when he arrived late, in clothes that did not match. Having to endure his brother's teasing did not lighten his mood at all. Then, since several of the men had never picked up a bow and arrow in their lives, the lessons did not go well. Aragorn had been helping one young man learn to aim correctly when a stray arrow streaked past his nose and buried itself in the post next to him, pinning his sleeve to the post. The only good thing that Aragorn could think of was that the arrow did not bury itself in his head rather than the nearest post, but it had been much closer than he liked. He spent the rest of that lesson coaching and giving pointers from a distance. The way his day was going, he did not want to give the students another chance to kill him.

Then, once the lesson was over, he returned to his room to change clothes once again, discarding the shirt with the noticeable hole in the sleeve and finding a shirt that actually matched the pants he was now wearing. He made his way down to lunch with his stomach growling. The thought of the food awaiting him made his mouth water. He was so hungry that he would have eaten anything placed in front of him. But no, just when he was about to take his first bite, a large number of wounded had streamed into Imladris. A nearby village had been attacked by orcs, and many people had been wounded. All available healers were needed. After hours of stitching wounds and treating orc poisons, Aragorn was nearly ready to drop from exhaustion.

As he was leaving the healing wing to return home for a long awaited dinner, the skies opened up and rain poured down upon him in streams so heavy that he could not see more than a few feet in front of him. Trudging back to the main house to once again change clothes before heading down to a late and likely cold dinner there was but one thought in his mind. "When it rains, it pours."

Summary: Bilbo tells a story to a young friend.

A/N: If the tale told here seems to differ from that in the Hobbit, keep in mind that Bilbo is the storyteller, and he has been known to change details to make himself look better. This was written for the weekly challenge on the AragornAngst list for prompt # 3: Riddle. This story takes place in the year 2943 of the Third Age, a year after Bilbo returns home after the events in "The Hobbit", when Estel is 12 years old.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and make no money from this.

// quote from the Hobbit //

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"So there I was, lost in the darkness under the mountain. No dwarves, no wizard, no friendly beings anywhere nearby to help me." Bilbo smiled at the rapt expression of wide-eyed wonder on the face of the boy in front of him. Young Estel was such an attentive audience, all a storyteller could hope for. He continued his tale. "Then, out of the darkness, a slimy creature named Gollum approached me in a boat. He was looking for his next meal, but when he saw that I was armed and no easy prey, he decided not to attack immediately. I told him that I was lost and needed to find my way out. At that, he proposed a challenge. We would exchange riddles until one of us was unable to answer the question posed by the other. If he won, he got to eat me, but if I won, he would show me the way out."

When Bilbo paused for effect, Estel asked, "What did you do?"

"Well, I agreed, of course," Bilbo answered. "I had no doubt I could defeat him in a war of wits, and I did not have another choice." Bilbo went on to enthrall Estel's imagination with the tale of 'The War of the Riddles', as he had come to call it. At last, he recited Gollum's last riddle.

//'This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.'//

"Any fool would know that the answer to that was Time," Bilbo scoffed. "So then it was my turn again. The question I asked him was rather a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. I asked him 'What have I got in my pocket?' "

"But that's not a proper riddle!" Estel burst out. "You cheated!"

"I most certainly did not," Bilbo said indignantly. "Gollum agreed to it as long as I gave him three chances to guess. You should show more respect for your elders. Now, should I continue the story, or stop?"

"I'm sorry," Estel apologized. He still thought that it was not a proper riddle, but he wanted to hear what had happened. "Please continue."

Bilbo nodded to himself at the apology, then picked the story up where he had left off. "Gollum's first guess was hands, which was incorrect. Next, he guessed a knife, which was also wrong. For the last attempt, he snuck in two guesses; string, or nothing, both wrong. With that, Gollum lost the game."

"What did he do then?" Estel asked.

"What could he do? He lost so he showed me the way out." Bilbo left out much of the story, not wanting to tell him of the invisibility ring.

Estel frowned, feeling that there was something missing in the tale, but chose to let it go. "So what was in your pocket?"

Bilbo gave him a sly smile. "That, my lad, is a tale for another day."

Summary: A son mourns his father and events are set in motion.

A/N: This was written for the weekly Middle Earth Express challenge on the AragornAngst list for Prompt # 4: Broken.

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters or setting and make no money from this.

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Broken.

Isildur stared at the shards of his father's sword in his lap. Narsil had been strong, powerful, and unbreakable, or so he had thought. The sword had been the symbol of Elendil. In Isildur's eyes, his father had also been strong, powerful and unbreakable. Wasn't it he who had enabled them all to escape Númenor before it was destroyed? Did he not forge a powerful alliance with the elves? Was it not he who had advanced his armies into the very depth of Mordor and made Sauron's defeat possible?

Isildur sighed as he gazed at the dull, shattered remnants of his father's sword. Narsil no longer shone with the light of the sun and of the moon. The battle was over, the war won, but at such a cost. His father had fallen, as had his brother Anárion. The elves had lost their high king, Gil-Galad. So many others had fallen as well, men and elves beyond count, lost to the seemingly never-ending tide of Sauron's dark army. They had won, but there was very little celebrating occurring now, though that would surely come later. For now, the men and elves had set about burying their dead, tending their wounded and grieving their many losses.

Bowing his head over the shards of Narsil, Isildur allowed himself to weep for his father and brother, for all they had lost, for all those who would not be returning home to their loved ones. After many long minutes, his tears ceased and he stared once again at the broken sword. "You will not be forgotten, father," Isildur whispered. "I will journey to Eriador and take up your kingdom. Your name will be celebrated for as long as my line continues. This I swear. Ages from now, people will know your name and your great deeds. I will not allow your name to fade into the mists of time. Your kingdom will be great, and all great deeds I do will be done in your name."

Fingering the golden ring on a chain under his shirt, Isildur made his vow that the name of Elendil would be remembered. He had been unable to cast this ring into the fires of Orodruin as Elrond and Círdan had counseled. He did not believe that the ring was a source of evil, as they claimed. It was Sauron who had been evil, and he was now destroyed. This ring was nothing more than a very pretty trinket. But this ring was more than a trinket to him. He could not bring himself to destroy it. It was a reminder that his father and brother's deaths had not been in vain. Though they had lost their lives, in so doing, the evil of Sauron had been defeated. That thought was some small comfort to him, and for that reason alone, the ring had become precious to him.

Summary: Arwen considers sailing from Middle Earth. *movie-verse*

Disclaimer: I don't own Aragorn, Arwen, or any other of Tolkien's characters. I also do not own the lyrics to Broken. The song is sung by Seether and features Amy Lee from Evanescence. It is owned by the author, Shaun Morgan of Seether (I think) and Wind-Up Records. I do not have any claim to the lyrics.

A/N: This is movie-verse, as I don't think this scene ever happened in the books. This was the second story I wrote for the AragornAngst Middle Earth Express challenge Prompt #4:Broken.

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'…cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away.'

Chorus of 'Broken'
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Arwen stared blindly out at the beauty of Imladris from her balcony. The sight of her home never failed to soothe her fëa and bring joy to her heart, but today she did not even see the sight in front of her eyes. Aragorn had just left with the Fellowship on what would very likely be an impossible mission. He did not plan to return to Imladris, to her. Even if he survived, he would not be coming back.

She had offered him her heart and pledged to join her life with his, and he had rejected her. He had called their love a dream, saying that they could never be anything more. He had even tried to return the Evenstar to her, as though it were nothing more than a trinket. When she had given it to him, it had been a token of her love, her decision to stay with him for the rest of his life and become mortal to be with him. The thought that he would try to return it had hurt her beyond words. She had closed his hand around it and forced him to keep it, saying that it had been a gift. At that, she had turned and practically fled from him. Once she had calmed down in her chambers, she realized that Aragorn had never said that he did not love her.

Truthfully, she would not have believed him had he tried to make that claim. Their love was strong and pure, and he could never lie to her in that manner. His actions and words had come from his concern for her well-being. She knew that her father wanted her to leave and sail to Valinor, away from Middle Earth, away from Aragorn. It seemed that Aragorn agreed with her father. Though she knew that Aragorn loved her, he had apparently decided to give her up for her own good. The thought enraged her at first, but the anger faded, simply leaving her empty. He apparently did not love her enough to give her a choice in the matter. She knew her own heart and her decision still stood. For Aragorn, she would give up her immortality and leave all she had ever known. Her happiness rested solely with him.

The thought of leaving Aragorn behind, of never seeing him again left her heart shattered in a million pieces. She would never be the same again if she sailed, but she saw no other choice before her. Since the decision seemed to have been made for her, she would abide by it, but she would live out the rest of her life as a broken husk, never again feeling love or joy. That would be the legacy of her father and Aragorn's decision.

Summary: Young Pippin makes a bad decision.

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters or have any claim to Tolkien's work.

A/N: This was written for the Middle-Earth Express challenge, Prompt #5: Lack.

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"Just what were you thinking?" Gandalf asked as he looked down at the young hobbit sitting on the bed in front of him. Young Peregrin Took was covered with welts nearly from head to toe. Gandalf shook his head as he prepared a healing paste to cover the many bee stings. He had been on his way to visit friends in the Shire when he had heard shrieks of pain coming from the fifteen-year-old hobbit on the path ahead of him. Hurrying to arrive as quickly as possible, he had found Pippin attempting to fight off a swarm of honey bees. Quickly conjuring up a smoke cloud, he had chased the bees away from the hobbit, then picked him up and carried him into the village to tend his injuries.

"I thought that some honey would be good on my muffins," Pippin answered back in a pain-filled tone.

"If you wanted honey, why did you not venture to the bee-keepers home?" Gandalf asked in exasperation. "There is more honey there than even you could possibly eat!"

"Well, I was on my way there, when I looked up in the tree and saw a bee-hive just above my head," Pippin answered. "The bee-keeper lives on the other side of Hobbiton, and there was the honey I wanted, right above me. It seemed like a better idea to just get the honey from there rather than walk all the way to the other side of Hobbiton. I was hungry!"

"So you decided to knock it from the tree by throwing rocks at it?" Gandalf asked in disbelief. "Did you not think about the bees that would not take kindly to you destroying their home?"

Pippin shrugged self-consciously while Gandalf began slathering his many bee stings with a numbing, healing paste. "I didn't think about that."

"Fool of a Took," Gandalf said with a mix of resignation and humor in his voice. "I often think you lack the common sense that Eru gave a gnat!"

Pippin frowned, then looked back up at Gandalf. A shy grin crossed his face as he held up the remains of the hive. "Maybe so, but I have my honey."

Summary: Arwen celebrates a spring day in Minas Tirith.

Disclaimers: I don't own Arwen, Minas Tirith, or anything else of Tolkien's.

A/N: This was written for the Middle Earth Express 500 word challenge for prompt # 6, Outdoors. I just happened to read the challenge prompt after coming back from a day in DC for the Cherry Blossom Festival and wandering among the crowds and the beautiful trees and flowers planted around the tidal basin. So, this was the first idea to hit.

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Arwen took a deep breath of the fresh spring air and a gentle smile crossed her face. Perched on the low wall around her garden, she was able to look out over the city. The air was redolent with the rich perfumes of flowers, fresh grass, and the rich scent of the fertile soil. As she gazed down into the various levels of the city below her, she watched the bustle of the crowd. Today was the first day of the Blossom Festival, and the city of Minas Tirith was filled with vibrant splashes of color from the trees and flower beds lining the streets and the flowers filling the window boxes of the homes.

The city that had once been bare of living things had come to life at last. Legolas and the other elves who had visited over the years since the War of the Ring had brought many seeds, fresh plantings, and young trees to be planted around the city. The fruits of those efforts could now be seen in the vibrant colors visible on every level of the city. From her seat, Arwen could see the bright yellow daffodils, colorful red tulips, and deep violet irises. The trees were at their peak blossom stage now, and the subdued white blossoms of some cherry trees contrasted sharply with the bold pinks of other cherry trees. Various shades of yellow, orange red, pink, purple, and creamy white could be seen everywhere. This had always been Arwen's favorite time of the year, when the world woke up from its winter slumber and showed such unbelievable beauty.

Arwen's gaze turned from the beauty of the flowers and trees as she watched the people in the streets. It seemed every inhabitant of the city was out in the streets, enjoying the blossoms, the blue sky and wonderfully warm weather. Though the streets were packed with so many people that movement was difficult, there were smiles on the faces of all. This last winter had hung on fiercely, and now, as it released its grasp on the city, the people were out celebrating the new season with their neighbors. Vendors lined the streets, selling everything imaginable. Children ran and played and laughed out loud while mothers watched with amused expressions.

Arwen watched the children play with a joyful grin on her face. The city was growing once more. Finally, after so many years in shadow, the people of Minas Tirith had hope in a better future. There was no longer the overshadowing presence of evil hanging in the air. The people were free and happy and having children, sure in the knowledge that their children would have a better life than had been possible before. 'Yes,' Arwen thought. 'After a long winter, the city and its people are coming to life. And so am I,' she thought as she heard her son approaching at a run. She swept him up in her arms and turned to join her husband in the gardens.

Summary: Frodo's thoughts as he flees Amon Hen, leaving Aragorn and the others behind.

Disclaimers: I have no claim to any of Tolkien's characters, places, or storyline. I'm just borrowing them temporarily.

Authors notes: This was written for the Middle Earth Express 500 word weekly challenges on the AragornAngst list for prompt # 7: Alone.

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Looking back over his shoulder as he ran, Frodo nearly tripped and quickly turned his attention back to the path in front of him. The decision he had been avoiding was now here. There was no other choice. He had to continue on alone.

Carrying the ring was his burden, and his alone. He had finally come to accept this fact. Those wiser and stronger than he had turned down the ring. Galadriel and Gandalf had refused the ring when he offered, afraid of what they would do with it, how it would twist their powers and wills to it's desires. Those he would have trusted with the ring, like Elrond and Aragorn, had made it quite clear that they had no desire to handle or carry the ring. It was up to him, Frodo, a hobbit from the Shire.

No others could help with this, though they had tried. Sam, Merry and Pippin had tried to cheer him up when the load seemed too heavy to bear. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and even Boromir had tried their best to protect him and help him in any way they could. Well, Boromir had tried to protect him when he was not under the ring's influence. Frodo did not blame Boromir for his actions, he had not truly been himself. Frodo knew full well that it was the ring trying to get back to Sauron, and not any fault of Boromir's. But he had to leave, to keep the ring from tempting anyone else.

Gandalf had worried about the affect the ring might have on the Fellowship, though he had tried to keep that worry from Frodo. Gandalf…Frodo brushed a sudden tear away at the thought of the wizard who had fallen in Moria. Gandalf would have done anything to have kept him safe at home and far away from the danger he had been thrust into. Frodo's mind raced as he thought of his companions and the danger he had just left them in.

Aragorn had urged him to run away when he saw the blue glow of Sting signaling the approach of orcs. Frodo hated to think of the battle he was now engaged in, but he was more afraid for Merry and Pippin. They had seen the orcs coming and run off in the other direction to serve as a distraction and allow Frodo to escape. Frodo's heart nearly stopped in his chest at the thought that they might be captured or killed, but he knew that he had to flee. All they had been through, all their sacrifices would be for naught if he was caught and the ring returned to Sauron. No matter what else happened, he could not allow that.

As great as his fear was, Frodo knew that only one path was now open to him. He had to journey straight into Mordor itself. And he would not ask anyone else to accompany him. This was his task, and his task alone.

Summary: Arwen reflects on her feelings for Aragorn the evening before his departure from Imladris. This takes place the same evening that Elrond told Aragorn he would wed nor pledge troth to any woman until the time had come and he was found worthy of it. But what was Arwen thinking during all this? This was written for the 500 word challenge, theme #8: Hidden. (Though the added last paragraph puts the count closer to 700 words. Just consider this the Extended Edition of the story.)

A/N: According to Tolkien, 'Then Aragorn took leave lovingly of Elrond; and the next day he said farewell to his mother, and to the house of Elrond, and to Arwen, and he went out into the wild.' In my understanding of this, even though Elrond's words to Aragorn seemed less than loving, and they both knew that one day one of them would lose Arwen to the other, their parting was not an acrimonious one. I believe they agreed to set the subject aside and move on, so that when Aragorn left, he did not do so in anger or with hard feelings between him and Elrond.

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Arwen sat on her balcony, watching Aragorn with the twins in the courtyard below. The three brothers sat upon the benches discussing many things. They seemed to be avoiding the topic of Aragorn's imminent departure, reminiscing instead about their travels and adventures. Arwen's lips curved upward into a smile as whatever had been said caused all three of them to burst out into sudden laughter. She loved watching the three of them like this. She loved them all, the brothers she had known her whole life, and the young man she had only recently met.

As the thought flittered through her mind, she focused her attention inward, no longer seeing the scene before her eyes. She loved Aragorn. Many times over the months they had known each other, she had seen the love Aragorn felt for her shining in his eyes. He would not speak the words aloud, for fear of seeming too young, too forward or too brash, but she knew the feelings were there. She, in turn, had hidden her feelings for him. If she allowed herself to speak the words aloud, to even acknowledge her feelings to anyone, she would be opening a door she could never close again. The love they felt for each other was not the simple matter that it was for most people, assuming love was ever a simple matter. No, there were many other things to be considered. If she truly wished to be with him, she would have to give up the immortal life of the elves and live out the remainder of a mortal life before succumbing to the death that all mortals must one day face. She was not sure if she was brave enough or strong enough to make that choice. Was her love for him strong enough to face that test? She did not yet have the answers to those questions.

But beyond that, she had other things to think about as well. If she chose Aragorn, she would be giving up her family as well. She would never be able to sail, to join her family in Valinor. The thought that she would rejoin her mother in Valinor had sustained her through those horrendous nights after Celebrían had sailed. Not ever seeing her mother again…the very thought sent a knife of pain stabbing through her heart. And her father, oh she could not stand the thought of causing him pain. She knew very well that her father would be hurt beyond measure if she left him to join her life with Aragorn's. Though her father loved Aragorn as a son, he knew that he would one day lose the man to a mortal death. He had never thought to lose his daughter the same way.

For all those reasons, and for many more, she would keep her feelings locked away in her heart, hidden from all. Only in the privacy of her rooms, alone with her thoughts, could she acknowledge how much she loved Aragorn.

Another bout of laughter from below her balcony caught her attention, and she lifted her eyes from her lap, where she had been staring at her hands, clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. Aragorn had looked up at the same moment and caught her gaze with his. For a brief moment, their eyes locked and spoke the words they could not yet say to each other. A soft smile touched Aragorn's lips and Arwen felt an answering smile cross her own face. Elladan said something then and Aragorn turned his attention back to his brothers, but Arwen felt the ache in her heart ease slightly. She had a feeling that though their time was not yet come, this choice still lay before her, and one day it would not be such a difficult one to make. With that thought, she stood up and left the room to go join the three brothers in the courtyard. She would not squander this last evening with Aragorn. Tomorrow, they would say their farewells, but for tonight, she would enjoy spending time with him and the twins, hearing more tales of their adventures

Summary: Arwen and Aragorn meet up in Lothlórien. This was written in response to the Middle Earth Express 500 word challenge prompt #10: Magic. In a sense, this is a sequel to my story for the prompt #8: Hidden, which was titled Choices. You do not have to have read that one first.
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Arwen wandered through the trees of Caras Galadhon, enjoying the beauty of Lothlórien. Her thoughts were far away, dwelling on a certain man whom she had met many years ago, many years in the life of mortals, anyway. It was often that her thoughts turned to Aragorn, and she wondered how he fared. Her father and brothers received several messages from him, but those were few and far between. The tone of those few missives had grown more serious and grim over the years. She sighed as she hoped once again that he was well. Her concern for him and for what was happening to their world had affected her in a way that she knew had begun to worry Galadriel and Celeborn. Laughter was seldom heard from her any more, but she did not see much to laugh about with the shadow of Sauron spreading so quickly from Mordor.

Her thoughts were so distant, that at first she did not register when someone else appeared in her field of vision. As her eyes focused on the other figure, her breath caught in her throat. There before her was a tall silver and white clad man with a grey cloak and a gem upon his brow. He seemed to her a powerful Elf lord, but she recognized the man as the one her thoughts had been drawn toward. Could this be a dream? Could the magic of Lothlórien have summoned him forth from her thoughts? She blinked and saw that he did not vanish. He turned his gaze toward her, and she saw the cares and lines in his face that had not been there when they last met. A smile spread slowly across his face, erasing the cares and worries that weighed him down and he began to walk toward her.

This was no dream then, he truly was here, in front of her. Arwen's face lit up and a bright smile answered his. She began to walk toward him, knowing in her heart that all the debates she had had with herself over the years had just been resolved. Her heart was no longer conflicted. Seeing him once more had convinced her that she loved this man with all of her heart and her life would never be complete without him in it. In this moment, her fate was sealed.

When they reached each other, Aragorn caught her hands in his and they spent long moments simply gazing into each other's eyes. Aragorn's breath caught in his throat as he saw the same love he felt for her shining from her eyes. He drew her hands up to his mouth and placed a feather light kiss on the back of each of them. Arwen freed one of her hands from his and placed it gently on the side of his face. He closed his eyes and leaned slightly into her touch. Neither spoke, but then, no words were necessary in this magical moment. They were finally together again.

Summary: Estel and Elrond share a quiet moment. This was written for the Middle Earth Express Prompt #11: Hair.

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters and I make no money from any of this.

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Seven-year-old Estel yanked his brush through his thick, tangled hair in an attempt to bring some order to it. The bristles of the brush caught in a knot and stuck. Growling in frustration, Estel pulled the brush out of his hair and threw it across the room. It skidded through the open door and bounced off the wall in the hallway.

Elrond bent down and picked up the brush before looking around the door and peeking in at an unhappy young boy sitting dejectedly on his bed. "Is there a problem, Estel?"

Estel looked up to see his father in the doorway. "My hair is too tangled," he said quietly. "I can't get it brushed."

"Would you like some help?" Elrond offered. He had a feeling that the dejected look on Estel's face was from something more than a head of tangled hair.

Estel shrugged and stared at the floor. Taking that as permission, Elrond entered the room and sat down on the bed beside Estel, gently beginning to run the brush through his tangled hair, being careful not to pull too hard.

"Would you care to explain why you felt it necessary to throw the brush into the hallway?" Elrond asked carefully.

"I don't know," Estel mumbled. "I got mad, I guess."

"At the brush?" Elrond asked.

"No, at my hair," Estel replied. "It's always messy and tangled and I can't ever get it to look like…" Estel stopped in mid-sentence and fell quiet.

"Look like…?" Elrond prompted him, feeling like they were getting to the true heart of the matter.

"Like an elf's," Estel said quietly. "Your hair is never messy and tangled. I can't get my hair to look like yours."

"But you are human, Estel," Elrond said gently. "You are not supposed to look like an elf."

"I know that, Ada, but I'd rather be an elf, like you." Estel wouldn't look up at his father as he said this.

Elrond was silent for a moment. "Do you know who your hair reminds me of?" he asked quietly.

"Who?" Estel asked.

"Your father," Elrond answered. "He had the same dark head of curly hair that you do. As a child, he was ever struggling with it as well. You remind me of him in so many ways."

Estel twisted around on the bed to look at Elrond. "What was he like?"

"Your father was a brave, kind, strong, and honorable man," Elrond said. "This world was diminished with his death. He loved you and your mother with all his heart, and he would have loved to see himself reflected in you as I do. Do not wish to be something other than what you are, Estel. Ilúvatar made you just as you are supposed to be. He, and I, love every hair on your head. Never forget that."

"I love you too, Ada."

With that, Elrond hugged Estel tightly to him before continuing to brush out the tangles in Estel's hair as they talked quietly together.

Summary: Arwen wishes for more time with Aragorn.

Disclaimers: Obviously, I'm not Tolkien and I don't own the characters. I'm just borrowing them for a little bit.

Author's notes: This was written for the Middle Earth Express Prompt #12: Time. I seem to be writing a series of short fics revolving around Arwen and Aragorn's love story. So this can be considered a sequel to both Choices and Sweet Surrender, but it is not necessary to have read them first. OK, after a bit of research, it seems that Tolkien never stated how many daughters Aragorn and Arwen had. I'm just writing that there were four daughters along with their only son Eldarion.

'quote from Appendix A: The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen'

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"I need more time," Arwen whispered.

She traced her fingers along the lines of Aragorn's face. Her fingers touched the lines on his forehead that had been acquired through years of carrying the concerns of a kingdom, brushed along the eyes that would never again stare lovingly into hers, lingered over lips that would never again smile that special smile, the one that could melt her heart. "How could you leave me so soon?" she asked him, knowing there would be no response.

"A hundred and twenty years was not long enough. I need more time; a few more years was not too much to ask, was it? Even a few more weeks or days would have given us more time." Her voice stilled as she realized that even if they had had a thousand years together, Aragorn's death would have come too soon.

A soft, heartbroken sigh filled the room. "At the last, I understand what Ada hoped to protect me from. The thought of continuing in this life without you is more than I can bear. You could have remained with me a few more years, my love. Why did you choose to leave now?"

His recent words resounded in her ears; '…ask whether you would indeed have me wait until I wither and fall from my high seat unmanned and witless.'

"You were still strong and healthy," she told him. "Turn the kingdom over to Eldarion if you wish, but you could have remained with me for years yet. This was too soon, Estel."

Arwen closed her eyes and hung her head, letting the tears come. She knew Estel's reasons for leaving this life now, when it was still his choice. Her heart, though, could not help but wonder why he chose to leave while there were still years in front of them. Part of her felt that Aragorn had chosen to die while still robust and healthy to keep her from having to see him aged and frail, leaving her to take care of him, knowing that she would never age the same way. Even after choosing mortality, Arwen retained her beauty and youthful appearance. She would never succumb to the ravages of time quite as humans did. The same choice that Aragorn had made now lay before her. Just as he did, she could choose the time and place to give up her life.

Feeling her heart breaking in her chest at the thought of going on without him, she knew her time would be soon. She would leave this place and return to a place she had loved in her youth. There, she would release the bonds of this mortal life and find her way back to Aragorn's side. But even now, at the end, she could not regret the choice she had made to join with him. They had lived in bliss for over a hundred years and had five beautiful children. Her only regret was that they had not had more time.

Aragorn gets in yet another battle with the orcs. (OK, this isn't the best summary, but it's a 500 word fic and I don't want to spoil the ending.) This is the second fic I've written for the Middle Earth Express Prompt # 12: Time.

Disclaimers: OK, I don’t own them, and I make no money from this.

/ slightly altered movie line /

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Aragorn swore under his breath as the orc blade came far too close to his head for comfort. He jabbed his sword to the side to stab the orc trying to sneak up on him before turning his attention back to the large, ugly and very angry orc in front of him. This orc had been more skilled than most, and he was having a difficult time defeating him. If they were in a one-on-one battle, this would not be much of a problem, but while the orc in front held his attention, other orcs kept trying to skewer him. He certainly was not about to turn his back on the orc in front of him. There did not seem to be an end to the orcs swarming from the trees around him, and he began to wonder if he would escape this battle with his life.

As Aragorn deflected the heavy blows from the orc in front of him, he sensed two orcs closing in on him from the sides. Unable to take his attention from the one in front of him, Aragorn was driven to his knees by an impact to the back of his legs. Seeing that the mighty warrior could be brought to his knees seemed to encourage the other orcs, and they all swarmed toward him at the same time. Aragorn was completely unable to defend himself from the overwhelming numbers, and he was soon down on the ground, taking numerous blows from hands, feet and other blunt objects. His sword had been wrenched from his hand and lay nearby, just out of reach. Knowing he was about to be killed, Aragorn looked up at the orc looming above him with his scimitar raised high above his head.

As the scimitar fell toward him, a loud explosion sounded nearby, startling all the orcs. The orc above him hesitated and turned toward the sound. That was all Aragorn needed, and he quickly grabbed his sword and stabbed upward in one smooth move. Seeing their leader fall and the confusion created by the smoke and noise broke the nerves of most of the orcs and they began to flee. Stumbling to his feet, Aragorn dispatched as many as he could while the rest escaped into the surrounding trees.

Leaning on a nearby tree for support, Aragorn caught his breath and looked up to find Gandalf walking toward him. "Where have you been?" Aragorn panted. "You're late."

/"My good lad, a wizard is never late, nor is he early. A wizard arrives precisely when he means to."/ The twinkle in Gandalf's eyes brought an answering smile to Aragorn's face.

"Perhaps next time you can 'intend' to arrive a little earlier?" Aragorn asked.

"It seems to me that I arrived just in time." Gandalf said.

"So you did," Aragorn stood straight and looked at the wizard. "So, what was this little task you had for me?"

"Have you heard of a creature named Gollum?" the wizard asked him.

Disclaimers: I don't own Frodo or any of the characters or places in Middle Earth. They are solely Tolkien's.

A/N: This set of two 500 word ficlets were written for the Middle Earth Express #13: Change. A co-worker inspired/suggested the first ficlet, and another friend inspired the second. The two ideas are closely related, and can be seen as two sides of the same story.

S.R. (Shire Reckoning) 1401

Silence, Part I

Frodo closed the door behind Gandalf, then turned around and leaned wearily back against the door. 'Finally', he thought to himself. 'Silence, blessed silence'. This had been a very long day. Bilbo's birthday party and abrupt disappearance had been only last night. Then, today had been an absolute mess! It seemed everyone in the Shire had shown up to Bag End in the hopes of either walking away with one of Bilbo's possessions or finding the treasure that Bilbo had supposedly returned with after his adventure with the dwarves. Frodo rolled his eyes as he straightened up and walked slowly into the kitchen to fix a long-desired cup of tea.

It had taken most of the day and a great deal of help from his cousin Merry to finish handing out the items that Bilbo had chosen to give away and then evict everyone else. A long day, indeed. If he never had to see the Sackville-Bagginses again, it would be too soon. They had expected Bilbo to leave them much more than he did, and they had made their displeasure eminently clear to Frodo. Straightening a few things as he went, Frodo finally reached the kitchen. After fixing a cup of tea, he settled down at the table and inhaled the steam rising from the cup, letting the scent of the tea soothe his tattered nerves.

After a day like the one he had just endured, he had been pleasantly surprised to see Gandalf at his door. He had rather hoped that Gandalf would visit for a few days, but after uttering some rather cryptic warnings to keep the ring hidden, he had left again, just as abruptly as he had appeared. Frodo sighed and took a sip of his tea, relaxing and listening to the silence of the house.

Bag End was his now, Frodo realized with a start. He had known that Bilbo intended to leave the house to him, but for the first time, he realized that it and everything in it was his now. A smile crossed his face at the thought, then faded away. The house seemed much quieter than usual. There was no sound of Bilbo humming, talking to himself, writing, or just moving around in the next room. While he had certainly been in the house by himself before, it just seemed…emptier somehow. Knowing that Bilbo had no intentions of returning, the silence suddenly seemed deeper, rather oppressive, actually.

Frowning, Frodo tried to reclaim that feeling of peace he had felt only a few moments ago. It proved elusive, however, and the silence began to press in on him. Frodo suddenly did not want to be alone and stood up. Leaving the house, he headed down the path to the pub. Opening the door to the pub, he saw Merry and Fredregar Bolger waving to him from a table across the room. Smiling and moving toward them, Frodo let the life and bustle of the pub wash over him. Silence was overrated.

Silence, Part II

S.R. 1420 - A year after the hobbits return to the Shire.

Frodo stood in the doorway of the re-built Bag End and looked around. All of the filth and destruction that Saruman and Wormtongue had left behind had finally been cleaned out and repaired. He had been broken-hearted to see what had become of his home in his absence, but now, one would not be able to tell that darkness had ever touched this place. Frodo walked slowly through the house, touching the furnishings and objects decorating his home. Many of the original furnishings and decorations had been damaged beyond repair, but they had been replaced with new items.

As he looked around, he realized that Bag End would never be quite the same as it had been before evil had touched it. Though things looked fine on the surface, the damage done had changed it so that it was not the same home he had grown up in. Bag End was changed, just as he was changed. A rueful smile crossed Frodo's lips as he shook his head and gave a soft laugh. That train of thought would not help anything. His home was repaired and he was grateful for all the help that he had received in making it once again a warm, comfortable home for him to spend the rest of his days in.

Sitting down in a plush chair, he relaxed and listened to the silence of the house. A feeling of peace settled on him. When he had first been given Bag End, the silence had bothered him a bit. He had grown used to it, though as he thought about it now, he realized that Bag End had seldom been silent. Merry, Pippin, Sam and others had been frequent visitors. He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the chair and sighed, letting his mind wander where it would as he drifted off to sleep. Silence could be a good thing, sometimes.

A great lidless eye stared down at him, exposing his every thought to an evil so terrible that he knew he could never escape. The weight of that stare dragged him down to the ground, smothering him, preventing him from moving or making his escape…

Frodo sat up abruptly, panting, his hand clenching convulsively at the white jewel given to him by Arwen. His breathing was ragged and harsh as he tried to bring his mind back to the present. He was safe, home in the Shire, far away from the darkness of Mordor and the eye that oversaw that evil realm.

Perhaps silence was not such a good thing. Bag End should be a place of joy, of laughter, of friendship and family, not a place to re-live nightmares and memories. A smile crossed his face as he thought of the solution. He would ask Sam to move in. Bag End was large enough for the both of them, along with any future wives or children that might come along. Bag End would be a happy, warm home once again.

Summary: The members of the Fellowship remember those fallen in battle. This was written as a Memorial Day story.

Disclaimers: I do not have any claim to any of Tolkien's creations, his characters, world, or events.

Author's Notes: This story was inspired by the Middle Earth Express prompt #14: Silence. It was largely written as a Memorial Day story, as today is Memorial Day in the US. I did not even make an attempt to keep this to the 500 word limit.

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Silence. That was what struck Pippin as he glanced around the expanse of the Pelennor fields, the utter silence. Not so long ago, a great battle had raged here. The sounds then had been loud and chaotic; the sounds of metal clashing on metal, the shouted commands and defiance in the face of the enemy, the screams of the dying. But now there was only silence. The dead and injured had long been removed, to either be healed or laid to rest. Only some battle debris still remained as a testament to those who had died here.

King Elessar had declared today to be a day of remembrance, a day to reflect and honor those who had not lived to see this day. A formal ceremony was planned for later that evening in the great hall. That ceremony was for all in the kingdom, a time in which a list of all those who had died in the recent war would be read so that all the fallen could be honored. Pippin knew how long that list would be. He had helped accumulate that list, visiting each captain and taking his list to Aragorn to be added to all the other names that Aragorn had gathered; all those of Gondor, Rohan, and Dol Amroth. But for now, the members of the Fellowship, along with Faramir and Éomer, who had returned to retrieve the body of the fallen King Theoden, had gathered upon the field for a private ceremony. In this ceremony, they could speak of those friends and kin who had fallen, and if a few tears were shed, none would think the less of them.

The procession out onto the fields had been made in utter silence, marking the somberness of the event. At Aragorn's signal, they stopped and gathered around in a circle. Legolas' voice broke the silence as he began to sing a lament. The utter sorrow and loss in the song brought tears to the eyes of all who heard it, though most present could not even understand the words. As the last notes of the song faded away, Aragorn began speaking of the courage and bravery of all those who had fought and died so that they might have the victory over the darkness of Sauron and his minions. After a moment, however, he began to speak of Halbarad and Boromir and the other friends he had lost. As each new person was mentioned, all who knew him were invited to share memories of him.

Pippin glanced up at Faramir as Boromir was mentioned. The young Steward's face seemed carved from stone at first. He had heard of Boromir's moment of weakness when he had tried to take the ring from Frodo, and must have feared what the others would say about him. His expression softened, however as he heard them all speak of Boromir with praise and fond memories. He even felt comfortable enough among these friends of his brother to share some memories of their childhood.

They went around the circle, each mentioning those they had known who had fallen. Theoden was mentioned, and Éomer and Merry had shed tears as they remembered him. Each of them had lost someone in this battle, and they each had a chance to reminisce and share their memories of the fallen.

When it came time for Pippin to speak, he mentioned several of the men he had come to know on the journey to the Black Gates, men with families, wives and children that they would not be returning to. Pippin's breath hitched as he spoke.

"I do not have the words to praise their great deeds and sacrifices," he said softly. "I know they gave their lives willingly and that through their sacrifice, a great victory was won, but…" Pippin took a deep breath before continuing. "I can't help but wish that none of this had had to happen, that all this had not been necessary. When I think of all those whose loved ones will never return to them, my heart breaks." After another pause, he continued, saying all he could think of, and feeling it was too little. "They will be greatly missed."

The others were all silent for a moment, thinking that in Pippin's youth and simple phrases, he had said what all of them felt in this moment. Though they well understood the necessity of those battles, they all wished it had not been so, that all those who had fought and died had been able to return to their families and loved ones.

Gimli laid a hand on Pippin's shoulder and surreptitiously wiped a tear from his eye. "Aye, lad. That they will."

Once they had all had a chance to speak, Legolas and Aragorn sang another elvish lament as they made their way back to the city. Later that night, after the formal ceremony, they once again gathered together to spend the remainder of the night sharing memories of those they had lost. The room was filled with both laughter and tears as they remembered the fallen.

Summary: The beginnings of an unlikely friendship?

Second place in the Best Friendship category in the 2006 Mellon Chronicle Awards.

Disclaimers: I don't own Gimli or any other of Tolkien's characters.

Note: This was written for the 500 word Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #15: Horses.

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"I don't know why I'm doing this," Gimli grumbled to himself as he carefully made his way to the stable where Arod was currently housed. He made sure that no one saw him as he crept along in the shadows. If a certain elf princeling ever found out about this, he would never hear the end of it.

"Finally," he grumbled as he ducked into the darkened stable. Making his way quietly down the row of stalls, Gimli peered into each one, trying to find the horse that he had come to think of as his nemesis.

Arod seemed to have taken as much of a dislike to Gimli as Gimli had taken to Arod. Legolas insisted that it was only because the horse knew that Gimli disliked him and thus returned his animosity. Gimli, however, was sure that Arod simply loathed him for no reason.

Gimli had always only tolerated Arod because they had needed to cover great distances in a short time and they could not do that any way other than horseback. At least, that had been his feelings on the subject of Arod until today. Today, the horse had actually done something to redeem himself in Gimli's eyes.

There had been a battle today. It was not the largest battle they had ever been in by any means, but they had been outnumbered by the horde of orcs surrounding them. Gimli had turned at one point in the battle to see an orc behind Legolas with a raised scimitar, about to take the elf's head. Gimli had been too far away to be able to help Legolas, and the elf had been too involved with another enemy to turn and defend himself. Just as Gimli had thought he was about to witness the death of one of his closest friends, Arod had reared and brought his front hooves down squarely on the head of that orc, killing him instantly, thus saving Legolas' life.

For that, Gimli thought he deserved a treat. When he reached the right stall and recognized Arod, he called softly to the horse. Arod swung his head over the stall door and glared suspiciously at the dwarf. Gimli pulled an apple out of his pocket and held it up to Arod as he had seen Legolas do many times.

With barely a moment's hesitation, Arod nipped the apple cleanly off his hand, then came back looking for more. Gimli had come prepared, and held out another apple, but kept it out of reach for a moment. "I'll give you the apple on one condition," he said to the horse. "The elf never finds out about this."

Arod looked at him for a moment, then seemed to nod his head in agreement. Gimli smiled slightly as he held out the second apple for the horse to eat. After he had fed him the remaining apples he had brought, Gimli lightly rubbed the horse's forehead. "You're not so bad, I guess…for a demonic beast."

<>Summary: Aragorn and Sam have a talk while Frodo is recovering from his stabbing by the ringwraith. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #16: Trust.

Third place in the Best Fellowship category in the 2006 Mellon Chronicle Awards.

Disclaimers: I don't have any claim to Tolkien's characters and I make no money from this.

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As Aragorn approached the room where Frodo lay recovering, he spotted a small figure sitting hunched over on a bench overlooking the valley. A soft smile crossed his face as he recognized Samwise Gamgee. Sam had spent nearly every moment at Frodo's bedside since they had arrived at the haven of Imladris.

Aragorn walked over to stand beside Sam's bench. It took a moment before Sam looked up at him. "Oh, mister Strider, I didn't see you there…I mean Aragorn." Sam shook his head as he remembered that Strider was not his real name, but a somewhat derogatory nickname.

With a faint smile, Aragorn took a seat on a bench near Sam. "I do not mind you calling me Strider, Sam. How is Frodo today?"

A slightly worried half-smile crossed Sam's face. "Well, Gandalf assures me that he's doing better. He said they finally got the last sliver of that horrible knife out of his shoulder."

"That is truly good news," Aragorn said. He turned his gaze out over the valley and soaked in the beauty of the view. A contented sigh escaped him as the peace settled into his soul. "I do miss the beauty and calm of this place when I am traveling. It never fails to ease my worries and concerns." A glance over at Sam found another worried frown. "Does it not do the same for you?"

"What?" Sam asked, looking up at Aragorn, having been shaken out of his musings by the question. "Oh, yes, it is beautiful," Sam nearly stuttered his answer, not wanting to offend the man. In all honesty, he had seen little of the view in front of him. He turned to more fully face the man, wanting to set something straight. "I'm sorry."

A startled look crossed Aragorn's face. "For what?"

"For not trusting you when we met." Sam rushed to get the words out. "All you wanted to do was help us and keep us all safe, and I kept telling Mr. Frodo not to trust you. Even on our journey, on Weathertop, I started doubting you again. I even thought, just for a moment, mind you, that you might be in league with those wraiths. Mr. Frodo trusted you nearly from the beginning, but I'm ashamed to say that I didn't. Well, Strider, you've proven yourself true by getting us here and saving Frodo the way you did. I just wanted to let you know that I will never doubt you again. I trust you with my life, and even more importantly, with Mr. Frodo's." That said, he exhaled heavily and watched Aragorn.

"I am honored that you have chosen to trust me," Aragorn told him. "I do not hold your initial doubt against you. You are a stalwart and loyal friend to Frodo, and I know you were only trying to protect him. Frodo is lucky to have a friend such as you. I would consider it a privilege to be considered among your friends as well."

"I'd like that," Sam said with a shy smile, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders at the thought that Aragorn did not hold his earlier behavior against him.

Summary: Eowyn ponders her situation before riding off with the Rohirrim to join the battle for Minas Tirith. This was written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt # 17: Fight.

Disclaimers: I don't own Tolkien's characters and make no money from this.

/quote from Tolkien/

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Eowyn cinched the girth strap on her horse's saddle and glanced around from beneath lowered eyes. No one seemed to be paying her any undue attention, and she nodded to herself. She would not be able to breathe easy until she was on the road to Minas Tirith with the other soldiers. With a sad sigh, she leaned against Windfola and stroked her hand down the great creature's grey neck.

"It should not be this way," she whispered. She hated subterfuge such as this. In the coming battle, all those with the ability to fight would be needed. And yet, she was being told to stay behind simply because she was a woman. She wanted to fight for her people, but had been refused by both her uncle, the King of Rohan, and Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor.

She looked back wistfully toward the now distant Paths of the Dead. Though the very thought of treading those dark paths sent a shudder of fear down her back, had she been allowed to travel with Aragorn's company, she would not have hesitated even an instant. She had nearly begged Aragorn to allow her to join his company, and he had spoken to her of her duty to her people. Yes, she did have a duty to her people; her duty was to protect them, and fight alongside them, not remain behind and worry and fret over the fate of those she loved.

It simply did not make any sense to her, why, when they were so desperate for able-bodied fighters that they turned her away, time and time again. Her skill with a blade was no less than most of the men who served her uncle, and in many cases, was much greater. She was weary of the fight to convince others of her right to join them in marching off to battle. That fight would not be won, no matter how long she struggled. The only way to show them of her value in battle was to join them without their knowledge and do what she could on the battlefield for her people and her honor.

Hearing a call to arms, she quickly mounted her horse and swung around to join the others gathering for battle. Seeing Merry standing forlornly nearby watching all the Rohirrim mustering for war, she made a quick decision. Turning her horse, she came to a stop directly in front of him.

/"You wish to go whither the Lord of the Mark goes: I see it in your face,"/ she said to him.

/"I do,"/ he responded.

/"Then you shall go with me. I will bear you before me, under my cloak until we are far afield, and this darkness is yet darker. Such good will should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!"/ She helped him onto her horse. 'None who wish to fight should be left behind,' she thought to herself.

Summary: Elrond’s thoughts during the Council of Elrond. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt # 18: Shortcut.

2006 MC award nominee

Disclaimers: They’re not mine, I just like to play with them from time to time.
/quote from 'Fellowship of the Ring'/

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Elrond sighed softly as he listened to the reports being given to the council. Their current situation was dire indeed. The One Ring was now hiding in Rivendell, but it could not remain there. The power of Vilya would not be enough to hold off the combined forces of Sauron. Most of the ideas being presented to the council would not work to protect Arda from the spread of Sauron’s darkness.

If anyone were to hold and attempt to protect the ring, they would fail. Once Sauron learned of its position, he would simply send the full might of his forces against the bearer of the ring, and wrest it away. Taking the ring and casting it into the depths of the ocean would not work either. It would merely delay the inevitable. But once the ring was found again, Sauron would find it and regain his strength then. At that point in time, it was likely that the elves would no longer remain in Arda, and it would be left to whichever races were left to decide the fate of the ring. Elrond did not like the idea of simply postponing the task and foisting the responsibility off on others.

To his mind, there was only one choice that could be made. There was no shortcut possible, no easy solution. The ring must be destroyed in the fires of Orodruin. There was only one question that now remained, who would undertake such a dangerous task? His eyes strayed toward Estel, knowing that he would insist on being involved in any task pertaining to the ring. He still bore the guilt over his distant ancestor’s actions. The very thought of sending his son into Mordor sent a shaft of pain straight through the elven lord’s heart. He would take this task on his own shoulders before he would choose such a path for his son. However, he knew that this journey was not his to take.

Glancing around the circle of those gathered, he began to decide who should join Aragorn. As his eye fell on Frodo, he could not help but close his eyes in despair momentarily. He would not ask this of the young hobbit, but he had a feeling that the current ringbearer was not yet finished with the ring. Though he hated the thought of sending such an innocent into danger, he knew that this task belonged to Frodo more than to any other.

A debate was soon raging about what should be done and who would do such a thing as take the ring to Mount Doom in an attempt to destroy it and end the threat of Sauron. The voices stilled as Frodo’s voice sounded out among all the others.

/"I will take the ring," he said, "though I do not know the way."/

Elrond closed his eyes momentarily as he felt the stirrings of destiny around them. Much as he hated to admit it, this is what must happen.

Summary: Elrond marvels over his newborn sons. This was written for the Middle-earth Express prompt # 19: Mirror.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or setting and make no money from this.

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Elrond sat quietly in a corner of the room with a soft smile on his face. He gazed down at the bundles in his arms in utter amazement. They were absolutely perfect. In all his imagination, he had never thought he could feel something like the love and wonderment that he felt at this moment. Looking from one to the other, his smile widened. His new sons were mirror images of each other. Elladan and Elrohir, they had been named, and they were identical in every detail, except for the small birthmark on the bottom of Elladan's foot. As a healer, he had helped bring many children into this world, but none of them could match the beauty and perfection of his sons. His lips quirked upward as he realized that every parent down through the years must have felt the same at the birth of their own children.

A silent sigh passed his lips as he thought of his own twin, gone these many centuries. Seeing the identical elflings in his arms could not help but remind him of his brother. How he wished Elros was here to see this. He would have loved the chance to meet these two beautiful elflings. Rocking back gently in his chair, he held his sleeping sons close and hummed a soft melody.

Closing his eyes as he rocked lulled him to a state of near slumber. A series of visions flashed before his eyes; Elladan and Elrohir as young elflings, among the branches of a massive tree, urging each other ever higher as they climbed. The twins, a few years older, sitting at the dinner table, laughing over something one of them had said. Elladan and Elrohir, along with Elrond and Celebrían, relaxing by the edge of a cool lake on a summer day. Two identical elves, riding proudly on their horses, bows and swords at the ready as they rode off in one of the patrols that guarded Imladris, turning to give him a reassuring smile before they disappeared from sight.

Elrond opened his eyes and gazed down at the tiny bundles in his arms. Whether the visions he had just seen were dreams or portents of the future, he did not know. Whatever their future held, however, Elrond was glad that they would be facing it together. "I wish only the best for the both of you," he whispered into the night. "I would keep you both from all harm if it were in my power. While I may not be able to do this the entirety of your lives, I am grateful that you have each other. I am sure that you will protect each other when I cannot be there. That is one of the greatest joys of being a twin, knowing you will always have someone you can trust absolutely at your back. That is a rare thing, indeed."

As he closed his eyes once again, his thoughts drifted to Elros and thoughts of his son's futures.

Summary: Frodo wakes up in a peaceful place after the destruction of the ring. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt # 20: Comfort. I went back to re-read the events that take place after Sam and Frodo's rescue by the eagles and saw that we only see Sam's awakening at noon, not when Frodo woke earlier in the day, so I decided to write that moment.

Disclaimers: The characters, setting, and surrounding story line don't belong to me. They're purely Tolkien.

A/N: Oh, and I didn't quite meet the 500 word limit with this one. It's about 70 words over the limit, but I couldn't bear to cut any of it.

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Soft. That was the only thing Frodo could think. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was lying on something soft. A fresh, clean scent permeated the room, driving out the memory of the foul scents that had surrounded them in Mordor. A small smile crossed Frodo's face as he snuggled deeper into the soft bed and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. This seemed like a dream, a cozy, wonderful dream that he had no desire to wake up from.

The last place he remembered being was Mount Doom as they tried to escape the fiery death of that mountain after the destruction of the ring. If this was truly a dream, he wanted to stay here. Just thinking of the possibility of waking up back in that horrid place sent a shiver of fear down his spine, causing him to burrow almost completely under the covers. Hearing birdsong nearby, he relaxed into the amazingly comfortable bed. There had been no birds or natural life anywhere within the depths of Mordor. The song brought him a sense of comfort that he had not thought he would ever feel again. Life still existed in this place.

Wanting to see where he was, but fearing that he would wake to a reality he did not want to face, he slowly cracked one eye open, and saw a shaft of bright morning light illuminating his bed. That pure, wonderful sunlight had not shown in Mordor. Slightly reassured, he opened his eyes even further. Gazing upwards, he beheld the amazing sight of beech trees stretching far above his head, the sunlight filtering down through the branches. A soft snore caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Sam lying in a nearby bed, sleeping peacefully and quite soundly, by the looks of it. Frodo knew not how they had come to be here, wherever here was, but he would not dare to wake Sam. The poor hobbit had not gotten much sleep on their long quest, trying to keep watch over Frodo and be sure that Gollum or another enemy did not sneak up and attack them.

"So, you are awake at long last," a gentle voice spoke from Frodo's right.

Turning his head, Frodo saw Gandalf standing beside his bed. Frodo's eyes widened in astonishment, and he scrambled into a sitting position. "GANDALF!" he shouted, before clamping a hand over his mouth and glancing guiltily over at Sam's sleeping form. He needn't have worried, as Sam had not stirred at all. "Gandalf," he exclaimed more quietly in amazement. "I thought you had died. We saw you fall…"

"Worry not," Gandalf said as he saw the confused expression on Frodo's face. "I am well, as are the rest of your companions, save one."

A shadow crossed Frodo's face. "Yes, I had heard of Boromir's fall. It grieved me greatly." An expectant look lit his face. "But the others are all well?"

"Yes, they are," Gandalf answered, a gentle smile on his face. "Tales of their adventures can wait for another time. You should rest for awhile more, my friend. I will watch over you and make sure you are not disturbed."

Frodo yawned, not realizing until that moment how tired he felt. Reclining back against the pillow, he snuggled back into the covers, taking comfort in Gandalf's presence and the thought that his friends were well.

Summary: Aragorn's first visit to Imladris after Elrond sails. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge Prompt #21: Home.

2006 MC award nominee

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

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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.

Summary: Denethor finds a reprieve from his responsibilities and the summer heat. This was written for the Middle-earth Express prompt #22: Water.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters. I just play with them from time to time. I also do not make any money from this.

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Denethor wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and grimaced. The heat this summer was nearly unbearable. The stone walls and floor of Minas Tirith absorbed the heat and radiated it back at them throughout the day and night, increasing the discomfort of its inhabitants. He, for one, would be quite happy when this heat finally broke. The council had recessed for the midday meal, and he was headed back to the private chambers he shared with his wife and their two small children.

As he neared the chambers, he heard the high, bright laughter of his children, mixed in with the rich laughter of his beautiful wife. A smile crossed his face as he listened, then a slight frown quickly chased it away. Along with the laughter, he heard the sound of…splashing water? Fearing what that might mean, he followed the sounds to an open courtyard, and stopped, staring at the scene in some shock. There, in the middle of the courtyard, playing in the water fountain, were his wife and children.

"Finduilas! What are you doing?" he asked, aghast.

His wife looked up from where she stood in the middle of the fountain, holding her skirts up above her knees. "My love, would you care to join us?" The mischievous smile on her face told him that she knew how shocked he was at seeing this. Boromir and one-year-old Faramir had been stripped down to their breeches, and were happily splashing each other and their mother with the water.

"You should not be behaving in this manner," Denethor said stiffly. "If anyone were to see the Steward's family like this, I shudder at what they would think."

Finduilas smiled softly at him. "Denethor, we are in our private chambers. There are none here to see or think anything about us. I know the mantle of Steward rests heavily on your shoulders, but you must not allow it to weigh you down so much that you cannot enjoy a summer's day with your sons. Come, find some ease from this horrible heat." She raised a finger to gesture at him as he opened his mouth to speak. "And do not tell me that you never played in this very fountain when you were their age. Your father told me many tales of your youth."

A smile tugged at Denethor's lips as he remembered many summer days as a child doing exactly what his sons were doing now. He nodded, granting her point. Shrugging to himself, he decided to do as she bid. His rooms were just around the corner if he needed to change into dry clothes. And she was right. None would see them here. Here, he could simply be Denethor, not the Steward. Removing his heavy outer robe and placing it at a safe distance from the fountain, he removed his boots and went to sit at the edge of the fountain, dipping his feet in the refreshing coolness and watching his children play.

Summary: A young man finds that appearances can be deceiving. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge #23: Stranger.

Third place in the Best Pre-LOTR story category of the 2006 Mellon Chronicle Awards.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, except maybe Edric. I don't have any claim to any of Tolkien's works, worlds or characters.

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The stranger had returned. Edric peeked around the corner of the counter to stare at the dark, mysterious figure sitting at one of the tables in the rear. Edric examined every detail of the man's appearance, trying to find some clue that would tell him who and what this man was. He could see more of the man tonight than he could have last night. Last night, all he had been able to see of the man was the heavy cloak that covered him from head to foot, hiding his face and concealing all of his clothing as well.

Only his large rough hands had shown where they rested on the table. Those hands had been rough and callused from holding a sword. Edric was quite sure that many had died at those hands. The stranger had smoked a pipe most of the evening, and the red glow of the pipe occasionally lit up the inside of the cloak, reflecting off of the dark eyes gazing out of the cloak. Edric shivered as he remembered catching a brief glimpse of those cold eyes. Those eyes had watched every movement within the tavern, missing nothing. They had regarded everything and everyone with a cold, malevolent gaze.

The cloak was gone tonight, and Edric was taking the opportunity to examine the stranger in more detail. He wore travel stained clothing that looked like they had not been washed in a very long time. A long leather coat covered a rough woven shirt and trousers, all of which were rather stained by mud and grass. His boots were liberally caked with mud as well, but it was not the clothing that had so captured Edric's attention. A long scabbard hung at the stranger's side, and the shiny hilt of a sword stood out above the scabbard. The gleam of the metal hilt contrasted sharply with the disheveled appearance of the man's clothing, and Edric knew that the sword would be in pristine condition if it were to be pulled from the scabbard.

'Of course he would keep the sword clean,' Edric thought to himself. The man was surely an assassin. He must be here to kill someone, or to meet someone and find out who he was to kill next. The stranger had a dangerous feel about him, which Edric knew meant he spent a great deal of time fighting and killing. He wondered who the man was here for, and hoped it was no one he knew. But then, there would be no reason for an assassin to kill anyone he knew, so they were probably safe. He jumped as a hand came down on his shoulder.

"What are you doing hiding behind the counter?" his father asked as Edric straightened and turned around suddenly. He handed Edric a tray and a cloth. "There are tables that need cleaned. We don't have time for you to stand around staring at the customers. Get moving."

Edric gulped as his father gave him a gentle push in the direction of the assassin. The men sitting at the table next to the stranger had just left, and it was Edric's job to clean off the table for the next customer. His hands started shaking as he moved toward the stranger. The man's eyes followed his movements, and the scrutiny made Edric even more nervous. He dropped his gaze, looking away from the man and hurried over to the table. His movements were more jerky than usual as he gathered up the plates, cups and other utensils. After he placed everything on the serving tray and wiped off the table, he spun quickly around, trying to make his escape. Apparently, he moved too quickly, and everything went flying off of his tray. His face flushed with embarrassment as he knelt to begin picking everything up off the floor.

He started when a hand reached down in front of him and picked up a bowl. He jerked his gaze up abruptly to find himself staring into the face of the stranger. The blood that had suffused his face drained away in his fear as he stared at the stranger.

"Here, let me help you," the stranger spoke in a deep, yet oddly gentle voice. He held the bowl out to Edric.

Edric reached out carefully and took the bowl from the stranger, placing it back on the tray. He lowered his gaze back to the floor as he went back to picking up the fallen items.

'Thank you," he said softly. If the man had offered to help him, the least he could do was say thank you.

The man just nodded and knelt down beside him, helping him to clean up the mess in silence. When Edric finally had everything back on the tray and the spilled food and liquid cleaned up, he stood up and looked back at the man who still knelt beside him.

"Thank you again," Edric said, minding his manners. His mother would not have been happy if he had accepted the man's help without thanking him.

There was a trace of a smile on the man's face as he inclined his head toward Edric. "You're quite welcome, young sir."

As Edric turned away, he couldn't help but think how a simple thing like a smile could change a man's face so much. His eyes no longer looked cold and dark, but warm and even a little amused. The lines on his face that Edric had earlier thought to be a sign of the man's cruelty now seemed to speak of the man's weariness. Edric put the items away behind the counter and turned back to look at the man that was once more sitting at his table. Looking over the clothing once more, Edric began to feel sorry for the man. It was obvious that he spent a great deal of time outside, traveling from place to place, and he probably did not have a place to call home. The sword that he had noticed now took on another meaning. Anyone traveling that much would be in danger from a great many enemies, animal or otherwise and would have to keep his weapons clean and in good condition, or he would not survive long. Such a man probably took comfort in whatever inn or tavern he came across for a good hot meal when he could get one.

Acting on impulse, he spooned a bowlful of his mother's stew and carried it over to the stranger.

The man raised his eyebrows as Edric placed the bowl on the table. "Thank you, but I did not order this."

Edric flushed slightly. The man probably did not have the means to pay for the meal, he thought. "It is my way of saying thank you," he replied. "Please take it."

A wide smile crossed the man's face, making him seem to be someone else yet again. He did not seem to be either the menacing assassin that Edric first thought, or even the weary traveler, but a much younger man, one able to laugh and enjoy his life. "Then I shall take it, and it is you who have my thanks. May I ask your name?"

"Edric," he said, still staring at the smiling face in front of him, trying to figure out who this man was.

"People around here call me Strider," the man said, inclining his head toward Edric once again.

Edric turned as he heard his father calling his name, and hurried back to tell his father why he had just given away a bowl of stew. His father thought it an appropriate gesture, though he wondered at the wisdom of giving it to such a strange, mysterious man.

"He is not what he seems to be," Edric said as he picked up his tray to go clean up the other tables. He was busy for the rest of the evening, but he nodded to the man when Strider got up and left the tavern. Moving back over to clean up his table, he found a small coin left behind. It was more than the soup was worth. He picked it up and looked around, spotting Strider's face through the glass as he stood outside the window. The man gave him a smile and nodded, indicating he should keep the coin, then strode out of sight into the shadows of the evening. Edric was left holding the coin and wondering who the man truly was.

Summary: A look at Smeagol's thoughts as he retreats from the world. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #24: Dark. This story is written in the time frame when Smeagol just starts to retreat from the world under the ring's influence and before Gollum really makes himself known.

Disclaimer: The character is not mine, he belongs to Tolkien. And honestly, if I were going to try to lay claim to one of Tolkien's characters, it wouldn't be Smeagol. ;-)

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"It burns…it burns me. Why does it burn so? I can remember a time when it did not…can't I? I thought so, but now it's gone. All gone. No more spending time in the sun. It burns me now." Smeagol scrambled into the shade at the side of the cliff, avoiding the burning gaze of the sun.

"That's better," he said as he found the entrance to the cave he now called home. "It's nice here in this cave. All dark and quiet. No one to bother me. No strangers to call me names and chase me. No one can hurt me here." A whimper escaped him as he remembered the pain he had suffered at the hands of so many strangers. "Why do they hurt me? I never did anything to them. They call me monster, murderer." Smeagol's face twisted in his anger as he mimicked the villagers who had so recently chased him away from their village. He continued muttering to himself as he crept deeper into the cool confines of the cave system.

"If Deagol had given me my ring, I would not be a murderer. It's all his fault. I'm glad he's gone. Gone, gone, gone. But…he was my friend once. Wasn't he?" Smeagol's head tilted to the side as he tried to remember what his life had been like before. Before the ring had found him and called to him. Shaking his head, he spoke again.

"No, he wasn't. He wouldn't give me my birthday present. No, not my friend." He continued creeping along the caves until he reached the cool, still pool deep inside the cave. Squatting down, he ran the fingers of one hand through the water and went to his special hiding place, digging out his greatest treasure and staring greedily at it.

"I'm all alone here. Just me and…my precious. I don't need anyone else. All the fish I could want from this pool, and no one to bother me. What more could I want?"

His fingers caressed the cool surface of the ring. "Nice, shiny…precious. And it's all mine. Mine alone…all alone." For a moment, his voice trailed off and he gazed sadly back out at the entrance of the cave before he resolutely turned his attention back to his ring, the sole purpose of his existence. It was all he had left, but then, it was all he really needed.

Title: The Return

Rating: G

Summary: Strider and Edric meet again, after many years have passed. This was written for those who requested a sequel to 'The Stranger', and in response to the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt # 25: Hunger. I will admit that the link to the prompt theme is kind of weak, but it is there. However, I did not even attempt to keep this within the 500 word limit. Consider this a prompt-turned-fic.

Disclaimers: The only characters that I own are Edric and his family. I don't own Aragorn or Arwen or any of Tolkien's properties.

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"Father, the King is coming. The King is coming!"

Edric turned to look at his son, Braden, as the boy raced through the door into the tavern. Hearing his son's words, he hurriedly placed his cleaning cloth on the counter and hastened to his son's side. The entire village had been making preparations for the visit of the High King of Gondor and Arnor. A messenger had come through several days ago telling all that the king was on a tour of his new realm and would be stopping in the village. He planned to meet with his people and the leaders of the village to see how things were run and determine what might need to be done for the people of the village. Since the king could not possibly visit every village in all of Gondor and Arnor, the messenger had told several nearby villages that the king would be here if they wished to see or meet with him. Because of that, the town was filled to overflowing with people. None here had ever seen the king or queen, and had only recently learned that the king had even returned to Gondor.

Once he got to the door of the tavern, Edric started pushing through the crowds toward the main street where the king would be passing by. When he reached the main street, he discovered that he could push through no further. There were so many people here that they were packed far too closely for anyone to move. He found a spot toward the back and leaned up against a wall, craning his neck to try to catch a glimpse of the king and queen. He had apparently taken too long in arriving, however, and he saw only the backs of the king and queen as they rode by.

From the back, he could see the queen's long, dark flowing hair as it cascaded down her back. She was wearing a dress made of a rich, dark green material, and there was an intricate headdress made of silver and gems adorning her head. On the horse next to her was a man with hair as dark as hers, though much shorter than the queens. He was wearing a circlet of silver rather than a full crown, which Edric supposed must be much more comfortable for traveling. The king was wearing a dark leather surcoat over a chain mail shirt, with leather and steel pauldrons on his shoulders. There were four knights of Gondor riding in front of them, and four knights behind them. The knights were not dressed in full armor, but rather in chain mail hauberks with leather overcoats. Edric was able to catch a glimpse of the silver emblem of the white tree of Gondor with seven stars arching over the splayed branches that was embroidered into the guards' leather overcoats. Behind the knights came several men that Edric now knew to be Rangers. Having befriended several Rangers in the course of his life, Edric scanned the faces as they rode by, but saw none that were familiar. Once the Rangers had gone by, next came the king's advisors and the ladies-in-waiting in all their finery, and then all of the rest of the king's escort including the cooks, healers, men to handle the horses and other assorted laborers. The procession continued for a long time, and Edric stood spell-bound along with all the other villagers. None of them had seen anything like this in their lives.

When the procession finally consisted of only the supply wagons, the villagers slowly broke, and many followed the procession to watch the spectacle of the camp being set up a short distance away from the village. Edric pushed through the crowd to hurry back to his tavern. Many people would be looking for a good noon meal, and he would do a great deal of business today.

Once back at the tavern, he and his family remained busy for many hours as people came and went, looking for and receiving a good, hot meal. There was hardly any break in the flow of people between the noon and evening meal with so many people in the village, and Edric knew he could not expect the flow to slow even into late evening as men gathered to drink and celebrate.

It was just after the usual dinner hour when the door opened and Edric glanced up to see who had entered. Freezing in his movements, Edric beheld a face he had thought to never see again. In the doorway stood a man dressed in a worn traveling coat with a dark cloak draped around him. His hair was dark as the night, and his eyes were a clear grey, capable of a piercing stare. 'It was amazing', he thought to himself. 'The man hasn't changed at all. Perhaps there are a few more lines on his face, and a hint of grey in his beard, but it seems as if the decades have not touched him.'

Breaking out of his surprised stupor, Edric moved forward with a wide smile on his face. "Strider!" he called out as he approached the man in the doorway.

Strider turned to look at Edric, studying the face of the man approaching him. A smile spread across his face as he replied. "Edric?"

Reaching out to clasp Strider's arm in a friendly gesture, Edric nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Strider, it is I."

Returning the gesture and gripping Edric's arm in a firm grip, Strider reached out with his other hand and grasped Edric's shoulder. "You've grown."

Edric laughed. "It has been many years, Strider." He paused, then forged ahead. "And yet, you do not seem to have aged."

Strider merely shrugged in response, and Edric stepped back, gesturing for the man to come further into the tavern. "As you can see, we are quite busy tonight, but I have a table in the back room, if you wish. It will be quieter there than out here."

"That would be fine," Strider said, nodding, as he began to follow Edric through the tavern. "If you are not too busy, would you care to join me? It has been long since I have seen you, and I would like to hear of your life."

Stopping in his tracks, he turned to face Strider. "We only met once when I was very young. Why are you interested in my life?"

Strider looked steadily at the younger man. "The day we met, you showed me a kindness that was not extended to me very often. Because of that, I remembered you and have often wondered about your life."

A wry grin curved Edric's lips. "Then we seem to be akin in our thoughts. You were such a mysterious figure to a young boy that I have often wondered who you were and what your life was like. I will join you for dinner, as I have yet to stop for a moment to partake of my own meal. But I would like to hear of your life in return."

"Agreed," Strider said with a nod.

Resuming his trek through the maze of chairs in the tavern, Edric led the 'mystery man' as he had come to think of him in his childhood, to the back room where a few tables yet stood empty. This room was much smaller than the main room, and only a handful of tables would fit here. Since there was only one set of customers in this room, it would be much quieter and allow for conversation. Edric seated the man at a table and excused himself to notify his wife and son that he would be joining a friend for dinner. Braden nodded and followed his father to the back room.

Before taking his seat at the table, Edric introduced the man to his son.

"Strider, this is my son, Braden. Braden, this is Strider."

Braden looked sideways at his father. "This is the man you always ask the other Rangers about?"

Edric flushed slightly in embarrassment as Strider gave him an amused look. Taking pity on him, Strider turned his attention to Braden. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Remembering his manners, Braden turned back to the man, inclining his head toward him. "As it is you. May I ask what you wish for dinner this night?"

A smile spread across Strider's face as he remembered one of the main reasons he had come here tonight. "I would like a bowl of your beef stew with a couple of slices of fresh bread and a mug of your best ale."

"I would like the same," Edric told his son as he sat down at the table, remembering the stew he had given to Strider so long ago. Apparently, that small encounter had left an impression on them both.

Braden left the room, returning shortly with their food and drink. Edric waited until the food was settled and his son had left to resume the conversation. "I was rather surprised that you remembered me. It was a long time ago, and you must have met a great many people on your travels."

Lowering the spoon of stew that he had started to raise to his mouth, Strider studied Edric as he replied. "The life of a Ranger is a hard, often lonely one. Many of those we encountered did not trust us, they did not know us, and had no desire to. As I said earlier, you showed me a kindness, and I appreciated the gesture more than you can know."

Looking down at the tabletop, Edric found himself unable to meet Strider's eyes. "I fear I am not so unlike those others as you might think. When I first saw you, I saw only your outward appearance and thought you must be an assassin or bandit or something of that sort. It was only when you knelt to help me clean up my mess that I changed my opinion. Surely no assassin would help a clumsy child pick up after himself." Deciding that he needed to see how Strider was reacting to his confession, Edric looked up to meet his eyes.

There was no hint of condemnation in the expression of the man sitting across from him, and Edric relaxed as Strider spoke again.

"But you did change your opinion. I realize how…off-putting we Rangers sometimes appeared to people. You, unlike so many others, were willing to look beneath that surface when something happened to challenge your initial perceptions. That was what endeared you to me. With the simple act of bringing me a bowl of stew, you made sure I would remember you." A look of curiosity crossed his face. "But how did you remember me? You were only a boy when we first met, and I was just one of many customers who ate here. Yet you called my name when I walked in the door tonight."

Knowing how honest Strider had been with him, Edric knew he could be no less. "You left quite an impression on the young boy that I was," he said, starting slowly. "I had quite the imagination at the time, and as I said, first imagined you as an assassin. After you helped me clean up the mess, I felt quite guilty for having judged you as I had without knowing a thing about you. The stew was partly a way of saying thank you, and partly due to my guilt. It did teach me something about looking beyond the appearance of others, though, and I tried to never again judge someone else the same way."

"That alone makes me quite glad that we met the way we did," Strider replied.

Silence fell between them then as both men began to eat. The conversation had taken priority, but both men were quite hungry, and decided that this was a good place in the conversation to take a bit of a break. Once the food was gone, both men sat back in their chairs and Strider was the first to speak.

"The stew was as good as I had remembered. You must relay my compliments to the cook."

"My wife will be happy to hear it," Edric replied. "It was my mother's recipe, though my wife is just as good a cook as she is."

"Do your parents still live, then?" Strider asked. "I do not believe I ever met your mother, but I do vaguely remember your father."

"My father passed on five years ago, but my mother still lives. She now lives with my wife and I, and has greatly enjoyed having Braden around."

Strider reached for his mug of ale. "I am glad to hear that she is doing well, though I am sorry about your father." He took a drink of his ale as if in toast to the man.

Taking a drink of his own ale, Edric started the questions he had long wondered. "I know now that you are a Ranger, and having befriended several Rangers over the years, know roughly what your life must have been like, but I would like to know more about you. The mystery that surrounded you has loomed large in my mind for many a year."

"What would you like to know?" Strider asked carefully, taking another sip of his ale.

"I often asked the Rangers that I encountered if they knew you and if they could tell me how you were. Even the ones that I knew quite well were careful whenever they spoke of you. I could rarely get more than a comment that you were doing well. Are all Rangers so secretive?" Edric's drink sat before him, forgotten.

Strider hesitated before answering. "It was often dangerous for any to know exactly where the Rangers were. Secrecy was essential to our survival, and became a way of life for us. I am sorry if that bothered you over the years."

A shrug was Edric's reply. "Do not worry about it. I was only curious. So, you do seem to be doing quite well." Edric's glance took in the clothing that the man wore. His coat and cloak had been laid across the back of an empty chair earlier in the evening, so his clothes were now clearly visible. No longer was he wearing dirty, travel-stained clothing, but a short tunic and pants of richer wool material. The tunic was a deep blue, while the pants were black. While the clothing was not made to look expensive, the material used and the superior cut of the cloth made Edric think that it was of a high quality.

The smile that spread across Strider's face lit his eyes up from inside. "So I do not look like the scruffy Ranger you first met?" He waved his hand to indicate that he did not expect Edric to answer that. "My lady wife threw out all of my old clothing, and ordered new travel clothing for me. I am only grateful that she allowed me to keep my old coat." A gesture to the coat on the chair made it clear that it was the coat in question. From the looks of it, Edric did not doubt that it was the same coat he had first seen him in, many years ago.

From the fond smile on the man's face, Edric assumed that the marriage was a rather recent development. Most men who had been married for a longer amount of time would not have reacted so well to having their clothing discarded. "How long have you been married?"

"Less than a year," Strider responded with a smile.

Edric stared at the man in front of him. Though he looked as if he were only forty or so, he had to be quite a bit older than that, for Edric was thirty two, and Strider had appeared nearly the same age decades ago. Knowing that the question might be considered rude, he was very hesitant when he asked it. "Why did you wait so long? I have been married for many years now, and you are many years older than I."

Strider's eyebrows rose toward his hairline as he stared at Edric. He had obviously not expected such a question. It was a minute or two before he answered, and in that time, Edric squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. That had been a bad question to ask, he should have known better than to give it voice.

"The situation was quite complicated," Strider finally said, his voice soft. "There were things that I had to do before I could settle down and take a wife or start a family. Those things were only recently accomplished, and I finally received her father's blessing."

Sensing that the topic was one he should not be prying into, Edric quickly changed the subject. "How is it that you do not seem to have aged since last we met?" His eyes widened as he remembered something he had learned long ago. "Is it true, then, that you and the other Rangers are descended from the Númenoreans? It is said that they lived longer than normal men and aged far more slowly."

Strider nodded his head. "Yes, it is true that the Dúnedain, my people, are the last descendants of the Númenoreans."

"So is the new king, is he not? I have heard it said that he is the direct descendant of Isildur. Is that true?" Placing his elbows on the table, Edric leaned forward, waiting to hear if this man knew something about the new king.

"He is," Strider answered.

"Do you know the king? I had not thought of the timing before, but that you arrived today makes me think that you do know him, or at least that you were part of his escort. Do you know him personally? What is he like?" The questions tumbled out one after another, giving Strider no time to answer one before the next was asked.

"You could say that I know the king," Strider replied carefully. "One thing that I can tell you about him is that he cares deeply for the lands and peoples of Middle-earth, and will do all that he can to see that all prosper and live in peace."

"Is it true that his queen is an elf?"

Before the man could answer that question, they heard an unusual hush spread across the common room. Through the doorway, Edric saw two of the Gondorian soldiers escorting a cloaked figure inside. They stood still as they scanned the room, apparently looking for something. Turning back to Strider, Edric murmured his apology, and hurried out into the common room to greet the newcomers.

"Good evening, may I help you gentlemen with anything?" Edric came to a stop before the Gondorian soldiers and looked back and forth between them for an answer. He was unable to see beneath the hood of the cloaked figure. A slender hand pointed out from beneath the cloak toward the back room. Edric turned to see Strider walking toward them.

"We found him," one of the soldiers said. "Thank you for your offer, but we do not seem to need your assistance.

Strider approached the cloaked figure and gave a short bow before gesturing the three newcomers toward the back room. "Would you care to join us in some refreshment?"

The guards looked questioningly at each other, but the cloaked figure nodded and took Strider's outstretched arm, allowing the Ranger to lead her to the back room. Edric stared in surprise as his mind filled in the fact that the hand he had seen extend from the cloak belonged to a woman, and as she was escorted by two of the king's guards, she must be someone of some importance. Perhaps she was one of the queen's ladies.

Strider escorted the lady and the two guards to the now empty back room. Edric moved to follow them, but the guards barred his way. A stern look from Strider had the guards moving aside to let him pass.

Once Edric was inside the room, Strider helped the lady to remove her cloak, and Edric found himself staring in shock. This was the most beautiful lady he had ever beheld! Her skin was smooth and pale, and seemed to shine with an inner light that he had never seen on another living being. Her hair was a lustrous sable and her luminous grey eyes shone with that a wisdom that belied her youthful appearance. When he saw the delicate points on her ears, he knew whom he was facing, and was stunned into immobility.

Strider turned toward him with the lady on his arm. "Edric, I would like you to meet the Lady Arwen. Arwen, this is Edric, the young boy I told you about. Though he is a young boy no longer."

At the introduction, Edric was shaken from his stupor and fell to his knees with his head bowed before the queen. "My Lady." Those were all the words he could squeeze past his tight throat.

"Please arise, Edric," the soft, rich voice had a touch of humor in it, and he looked slowly up into her face. She was smiling softly down at him, and gestured for him to get to his feet. "It is a pleasure to meet one who bestowed a kindness upon my beloved at a time when such kindnesses were all too rare."

At that, Edric turned an openmouthed expression of astonishment toward Strider.

A smile spread across the man's face, and he started laughing at the look on Edric's face. Quickly closing his mouth, Edric stared at the man he had known only as Strider. If the elf woman in front of him was the queen, then Strider had to be…King Elessar.

"My Lord?" It was more a question than anything else.

"Peace, Edric," the king said, reaching down a hand to tug him gently to his feet. "I am still Strider, the Ranger you met long ago and have been enjoying a meal with this night. That I am also known as King Elessar is of no consequence here."

Head spinning, Edric just stared at the man in front of him. "No consequence?" he asked in a hoarse voice. The king just shook his head and guided Edric back to his seat before seating the queen and re-taking his own chair. The thought that he was sitting at a table with the king and queen rendered Edric mute, so he simply watched as the king and queen spoke to one another.

"How did you know to find me here?" Elessar asked Arwen. "I took great pains to slip away and leave no tracks."

"I am quite aware of that, my love," Arwen answered with a laugh. "The guards are getting quite annoyed with you. You are supposed to bring them with you for protection. They keep complaining that they cannot protect you when none know where you are."

Elessar rolled his eyes. "I have survived many years on my own without their protection. I do not think they should worry so. I am well able to protect myself."

She smiled at him. "That is true, but you were not a king then. You should not be slipping away from your guards so frequently. They only want to keep you safe."

A long sigh escaped him. "Very well. But you did not explain how you found me here."

Another light laugh escaped her. "It did not take the skills of a great tracker to find you tonight. You spoke of coming here for many days before we arrived. Once we discovered you missing, I gave you enough time to enjoy that bowl of stew you seemed to be craving, then took two guards with me to track you down and reassure them that you had not been carried off by enemies."

Chuckling at her words, the king nodded to his wife. "Then I thank you for allowing me time to speak with my friend here before stunning him into silence with your beauty. Would you care for anything to eat? I fear that I abandoned you before the evening meal. I trust the cook saw to it that you still had a hot meal on time?"

"Yes, I have had dinner. Though some dessert and perhaps a glass of wine would not go amiss." The queen turned her gaze on him expectantly, and Edric realized that, as the owner of the tavern, there was something expected of him.

Shaking his head briefly to clear his mind, he found enough presence of mind to speak. "My wife made peach tarts for dessert tonight. Would that be acceptable?"

A smile lit her face. "That would be quite nice, thank you."

Excusing himself, Edric made his way to the kitchen to pick up dessert and drinks for all of them. He made sure to take a moment to get a hold of himself and make sure that he did not go in there and sit in stunned silence any longer. This was hardly the impression he wanted to make on his new king and queen. Though the thought that Strider was his king was enough to make his head spin, he took a deep breath to clear his head before re-entering the room with a tray of food and drinks.

Once he had served them and sat back down, he had to ask the question in his thoughts. "Do you mind if I ask how you became king? I did not think the Steward would readily relinquish control of Gondor, especially to a Ranger from the North."

A sad look crossed Elessar's face, making Edric regret asking the question. "That is a long story. Do you have the time to hear it?"

Edric nodded eagerly. For a chance to hear this story, he would gladly give up any responsibilities he had for the evening. Come to think of it, he would gladly give up sleep, if it required the whole night to tell.

The queen began eating her tart while the king launched into his story, occasionally pausing to eat a bite or drink his ale. Edric listened with rapt wonder to the whole tale of the war of the ring.

Once Aragorn's tale was complete, he and Arwen asked Edric about his life. Though he felt his tale was quite ordinary by comparison, he told them about working in the tavern with his parents, meeting a beautiful young woman and falling in love, marrying and starting a family. They seemed quite interested in his story, so he told them about Braden, what he was like as a child, and what his dreams were for the future. While Edric was quite content to stay where he was, working in the tavern with his wife, Braden desired a different life. He wanted to be a soldier, and fight to defend the land he loved. Detouring from speaking about Braden, Edric told Aragorn of the people he had met throughout his life, focusing mostly on the Rangers he had befriended. Aragorn nodded in recognition of many of the names, and Edric told several tales of his friendship with those men. The three of them spoke long into the night, sharing many tales with each other. Arwen was coaxed to tell Edric many tales of her own life, what growing up in Imladris and Lothlorien had been like. Her world was quite different than the one Edric had experienced, and he was enthralled by her tales.

When the hour had grown quite late, Aragorn and Arwen made ready to head back to their camp. They had a full schedule the next day, and needed at least a little rest. Aragorn pulled out a coin purse to pay for his meal, but Edric refused to accept the payment.

"I am in the habit of paying for food and services that I receive," Aragorn protested.

"This night, these tales mean far more to me than any coin you could pay me," Edric insisted. "Please, accept the meal as a gift, from a friend."

Aragorn looked steadily at Edric, pleased that he felt comfortable enough to make such a plea, then put his coin purse away.

"Thank you," Edric said.

"No, thank you." Aragorn stood and extended a hand to bring Arwen to her feet. As he helped her into her cloak and shrugged into his own coat and cloak, he turned once again to face Edric. "When your son is old enough, and if he has your blessing, you should send him to Gondor. If he is half the man his father is, I would be proud to have him as a soldier in Gondor's service." Stepping closer to Edric, he once more clasped his shoulder. "Thank you for this evening, my friend."

With that, the king and queen of Gondor and Arnor swept out of the room, to be followed by the two guards who had remained at the door the entire evening, and Edric was once again left staring after them in wonder.

Summary: An entry in Faramir's journal where he muses on the changes in his life after the events in the War of the Ring. This was written for prompt #26: Duty.

Disclaimers: I don't own Faramir, more's the pity. I have no claim to any of Tolkien's property.

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Duty. It has ever been my life. From my earliest childhood, I was taught my duties: duty to my city, to my people, and to my father. I cannot remember a time when my life did not consist of my many duties. Boromir told me of times when we were younger, when our mother was alive and we were happy. At that time, we were allowed to be children, to play and laugh. My memories of that time are hazy, but Boromir assured me it was so, once, long ago. Our lives were full of love and light, and my brother even told me that he could remember seeing our father laugh. That is not a memory I have. My memories of my father are of a stern man, one who did not laugh; a man consumed with pain for the loss of his wife, and fear for the future of his people.

He taught me quite well that my only purpose in life was my duty to my people, to him. I had a duty to be a soldier, to lead my men in battle, to patrol the woods of Ithilien and keep it free from the influences of the enemy. My father scorned my desires, telling me that I must live for my people, not for myself. Though I would rather have been a scholar, I was trained instead as a warrior. Over the years, I was told repeatedly that I would never be the warrior that Boromir was. But Boromir enjoyed the fighting, the training, the battles even, in a way that I never could. When Boromir died and I became the heir to the Steward, I knew my life would never contain anything but duty. It was almost a relief when my father ordered me to re-take Osgiliath, a duty that we both thought would claim my life. My only regret was all the good men that would die with me.

But it was not to be. So many of them died, and yet I lived. It was…unexpected. When I awoke and found myself facing the king, I knew I had a different duty. It would be my duty to hand over Minas Tirith to her true ruler. After meeting Aragorn, it was a duty that I was proud to fulfill. But he surprised me, asking that I stay on as Steward, and his advisor. Though I did not expect it, he offered me his friendship, a gift greater than any other he has bestowed upon me.

And Eowyn…I never thought to love someone such as she: beautiful, brave and proud. She is both a warrior and a lady. The thought that she returns my love is enough to nearly stop my heart in my chest.

My life has changed much in the last year. My life is now more than duty. I have friendship and love, more so than I deserve. Though I wish Boromir were here to share it, life is good indeed.

Title: A Single Step

Summary: Aragorn sets out on a long journey. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt # 27: Journey.

Disclaimers: I don’t own any of Tolkien's characters, and I make no money from this.

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"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step" - Confucius

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Aragorn stopped on the path leading out of the valley and turned to look wistfully back at Imladris. One more step would take him around a curve in the path and hide the buildings from view. He had never imagined how scary and painful the thought of a single step could be. Gazing back, he could still see Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir standing in the courtyard, watching him walk away. Though he was too far away to see their faces, he drank in the sight of them as long as he could. Once he left, he did not know when he would see them again. Or, for that matter, if he would see them again.

Shaking his head at that thought, he tried to focus on what lay ahead of him, not what he was leaving behind. This journey was one he knew he must make, and one that excited and terrified him all at the same time. He was leaving behind everything he had ever known and heading off alone to lands he had only heard tales of.

When he was twenty and had only recently discovered his identity, he had embarked on an equally exciting journey, to live with the Dúnedain and take his place as their Chieftain. At the time, he had been filled with youthful enthusiasm and excitement and had not truly considered what he would be facing. He had learned, though, and had settled in with his people in time. At the beginning of that journey, he had never truly considered that he might not see his family again. It was a possibility, of course, whenever they ventured out on patrol, that one of them might not return. Aragorn knew that though he protested the fact, the other Rangers did their best to protect him during the battles they faced. The son of Arathorn was the last of the line of kings, and none wished any harm to come to him.

Today, he was beginning a journey on his own, one that would set his feet on the path toward his destiny, becoming the king of Gondor and Arnor. He had discussed this with Gandalf, Elrond, and his advisors among the Dúnedain, and they all agreed, however reluctantly, that this was something he needed to do. His advisors had urged that he take a companion, someone to watch his back if necessary. After a great deal of thought, he had decided that this was a journey he must make alone. Though he knew it was the right decision, it was still a very intimidating prospect.

Not knowing how long he would be gone, or if he would ever return to his home, to the people he loved, made his next step the hardest he had ever taken. He turned away from Rivendell, feeling as if in that action, he was not turning away from his home, but turning toward his future. His nerves settled and his excitement grew as he took a single step forward.

Title: To Protect

Author: Misty

Rating: G

Summary: Erestor prepares for the newest inhabitant of Imladris. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #28: Childproof.

Disclaimers: I don't have any claim to the characters or setting. They all belong to Tolkien.

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Erestor checked another item off of his list of things to do with a feeling of satisfaction. The house should now be safe for an active two-year-old child. All breakable objects had been placed high out of reach, lanterns had been placed throughout the house to light the darkened corridors, and locks had been placed on doors leading to rooms housing weapons or other objects that children need not play with. Aragorn, or rather, Estel, was old enough to be able to walk up and down the stairs, so he need not worry about an unexpected tumble. A frown crossed his face as he looked at the wooden floor at the bottom of the stairs. Perhaps a soft rug placed at the base of the stairs might not be amiss. Adding another note to his list, he turned to head to his room for the night.

It had been long since a child so small had resided in these halls, and it was Erestor's task to see that the house was made as safe as it could be. Erestor thought about the young child that Elrond had taken in. Though it had only been a matter of days that he and his mother had lived under Elrond's protection, Elrond and the twins had already lost their hearts to the young boy. Erestor did not hold any grudges against humans, but he could not understand loving one. Their lives were far too short, and he knew the pain that awaited Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir on the fateful day that Estel's life ended. He simply could not see deliberately asking for that kind of pain. Therefore, when each of the descendants of Elendil came here to study, to learn and grow in safety, or to live out their remaining years, Erestor held himself back from them. His heart was not given to any of them, though they had been his students, and even in several cases, his friends.

A noise drew his attention to the hallway in front of him, and he looked up from his musings to see Estel standing in the hall, a small blanket clutched in one hand, and the thumb of his other hand stuck firmly in his mouth.

"What are you doing out here?" Erestor asked softly. "Should you not be in bed?"

Estel tilted his head up to meet Erestor's eyes, and the elf could see the faint traces of tears on the boy's cheeks. "Monsters in my room." The child's words were muffled as he spoke around the thumb in his mouth, but Erestor could understand him well enough.

Knowing that the child suffered nightmares about orcs killing his father and coming for him, Erestor crouched down in front of the boy. "Would you like me to come make sure there are no monsters in your room?"

Estel nodded and took his thumb out of his mouth, lifting his arms toward Erestor. The elf gave him a smile and lifted the boy in his arms. When they reached Estel's room, Erestor walked through the room, peeking behind doors, in closets and even under the bed while Estel watched from a perch on the bed. "There are no monsters now. You are safe here," he announced, approaching the bed. Sitting on the side of the bed, he pulled back the covers and gestured for Estel to climb underneath. Before doing so, Estel crawled over to him and threw his arms around Erestor's neck. Hugging him tightly, Estel placed a wet kiss on his cheek before releasing the advisor and climbing back under the covers. A small hand reached out and grabbed one of Erestor's before the elf could rise.

"Stay?" a soft voice asked, and Erestor did not have the heart to refuse him.

Brushing back a stray lock of curly hair from the child's face, Erestor smiled down at Estel. "I will stay. Sleep now, you are safe. I will not let anyone harm you."

A beautific, sleepy smile crossed Estel's face, and his eyes closed as he relaxed back into the soft bed. Erestor watched as his breathing evened out and the boy drifted off into sleep, clutching firmly to Erestor's hand. Even after the child had fallen asleep, the elf remained where he was, watching over him. Reaching out to gently brush back a strand of curly hair, Erestor recognized the feeling suffusing his being. A wry smile crossed his face as he realized that though he had done all he could to protect the child, he had failed to protect his heart.

Title: Fair Game

Summary: Legolas arrives for a visit and makes an unexpected discovery. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #29: Guest.

Disclaimers: I don't own them, I don't make any money from this, they belong to Tolkien, etc.

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"I will kill them."

Aragorn shot a surreptitious look at the dripping elf beside him, and did his best to stifle a chuckle. Legolas had ended up taking an unexpected dip in the lake, fully clothed, courtesy of Elladan and Elrohir, and was now rather incensed. Legolas had arrived in Imladris the day before, looking quite weary and worn by the constant battles in Mirkwood. The twins had attempted to help lighten Legolas' spirit in their own way, a move they had badly miscalculated. Rather than laughing and relaxing, the elven prince had threatened retribution.

"They did not mean any real harm, Legolas. You know that. As far as one of their pranks go, you got off very lightly. You only got a bit wet." Aragorn shrugged.

With a sigh, Legolas acknowledged the truth of that statement. He had been the victim of many pranks where he did not get off so lightly. Legolas wrung his hair out and then shook his head, sending water droplets flying. "I only arrived for a visit yesterday. I was hardly expecting to be tackled near the edge of the lake my first full day here. Can they not give me a day or two to recover from my journey first?" Pausing, he looked seriously at his friend. "Are the twins this vexing to all of their guests? If this is how they treat visiting royalty, I shudder to think how they treat any other guests."

Stopping in his tracks, Aragorn gave Legolas a quizzical look. "Of course they do not treat our guests this way. You, my friend, are not a guest here."

Legolas stopped beside the man and looked at him in puzzlement. "How am I not a guest? I do not live here." Legolas asked, perplexed at Aragorn's answer.

A chuckle escaped Aragorn before he could help it. "Legolas, you have a room in the family wing right beside mine. That room remains empty when you are not here. It is your room, not simply a guest room. You are as a brother to me and to the twins. My father sees you as another son. How many times have you and I been the victim of the twins, or played a prank of our own on them? You are family, Legolas. And to the twins, that means you are fair game for a prank anywhere, at any time."

Legolas stared at Aragorn. While he was very pleased and even honored that they all considered him to be one of the family, he did not like the implications. "What would I have to do to be considered only a guest?"

Giving in to the laughter welling up inside him, Aragorn shook his head at the plaintive question and started walking back to Imladris. "It is far too late for that, Legolas. You are family now, and from that, there is no escape."

Title: Healing

Rating: G

Summary: Hope comes to live in Imladris.

A/N: This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #30: Rest. It was inspired by Terri, so I thank her for the idea. I seem to be stuck on young Estel stories right now. *shrugs* But I like writing them and the idea was there, so...

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them, sadly enough.

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An elf with hair as black as the surrounding night stood on the balcony gazing out into the darkness. His back was stiff and his posture was one of defeat. His mirror image sat in a chair before the fire, a book open in his lap, but his gaze was distant, unfocused. The tension and grief in the room was palpable, but it was a feeling they were well acquainted with. They had failed once again. Their mother had been the first victim of their ineptitude, and now a friend was gone. Arathorn had fallen while fighting by their side, and they had failed to protect him. It had been their sad duty to escort Arathorn's wife and child here for protection.

The woman and child now slept in a room nearby, Gilraen sleeping only with the aid of one of Elrond's teas. She had been in a state of shock since receiving the news, and unable to find rest. Aragorn, who was now the only remaining heir of Elendil, slept beside her, exhausted from his tears. Though he did not understand what was happening, he understood that his mother was upset and that things had changed.

As Elladan stared out into the night, he hoped the child would be able to rest, as there would be none for him this night. Looking inside at his brother, he saw the grief in the set of his shoulders. Though he wanted to comfort him, he knew his words would sound false. Elladan had failed, and did not have it in him to bring comfort to another. He lowered his head as he turned back to gaze unseeing into the distance.

A loud cry broke the stillness of the night, shattering the tension in the room and making both of the twins jump. It was the cry of a child, a cry they had come to recognize. Aragorn had awoken from his restless sleep. Knowing that Gilraen would not wake from the drugged slumber she resided in, Elladan crossed the room in long strides and entered the bedroom Gilraen shared with her son. The child was sitting up in bed, shaking his mother's shoulder, trying to wake her.

"Nana!" The word could barely be heard through the sound of his cries.

Sitting down on the bed beside the boy, Elladan reached out a hand to him. "Your naneth is sleeping right now, penneth. Will you allow me to help you?"

Aragorn's cries stopped as he stared at the elf he had known such a short time. He crawled over to the elf and reached up to tug gently at his hair as he stared at him, then held his hands up. His breath hitched as the elf lifted him, and he cuddled into the warmth the elf offered.

Standing, Elladan walked back toward the sitting room he shared with Elrohir, and found his brother waiting in the doorway. As Elladan entered the room and chose a rocking chair in which to rock the distraught child, Elrohir sat on a nearby couch. Upon leaving the room his mother slept in, Aragorn had begun crying again, though softer than before. While Elladan rocked the child and attempted to soothe him, Elrohir reached out and laid a gentle hand upon the child's back.

"Sleep, penneth," Elrohir whispered. "You are safe here. All will be well." Elrohir offered the comfort to the child that they could not offer each other. The younger twin began to softly sing a lullaby their mother had sung to them, so long ago. Slowly, the child's cries tapered off, and he drifted off to sleep, finally feeling safe in the comforting presence of the two elves.

A small smile graced Elrohir's face as he watched the sleeping child. He stretched out on the couch and laid his head down on the pillow, keeping his hand on Aragorn's back as he hummed the lullaby. The melody faded as he, too, drifted off to sleep.

Shifting slightly to get more comfortable in his chair, Elladan relaxed and held the small warm bundle securely against him. Glancing over at his sleeping brother, he felt a sense of amazement. It had been quite some time since either of the twins could fall asleep so easily. "Perhaps you are just what we need, penneth," Elladan whispered softly. "Do not worry. I will do all in my power to keep you from harm." Though he had failed the father, he did not intend to fail the son. Lost in his thoughts, he did not even notice when sleep crept up on him as well.

Elrond stopped by a few hours later to check on Gilraen, and was panicked when he did not see Aragorn anywhere. The flicker of firelight in his sons' sitting room caught his attention, and he stepped across the threshold, intending to ask them if they had seen the child. He knew they would find no rest this night. The guilt that consumed them both would keep them from sleep.

However, the sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks and brought a soft smile to his face. His sons were both asleep, Elladan holding the child, and Elrohir keeping a comforting hand upon Aragorn's back, even in his sleep. There was a sense of calm, of peace in the scene that he had not expected to see. Though he knew it would take time, he began to have hope that his sons could find their way back to him, back to who they had once been. In this child, Elrond began to hope that his sons would find rest and healing.

Rating: G

Summary: Strider shares his knowledge of the stars with the hobbits. This was a prompt inspired short fic for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #32: Stars.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or have any rights to any of them. I just like to borrow them from time to time.

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Pippin huddled next to Merry, misery etched on his features. They had just trekked through the marshes, and nearly been eaten alive by the bugs who lived there. He was starving, and cold, and the inscrutable Ranger who held their lives in his hands would not allow so much as a small fire to warm them or cook what little food they had. Though he would not have abandoned Frodo, he was beginning to regret coming along on this miserable journey.

Glancing over at said Ranger, he found the man staring into the sky, watching the stars as though he could glean some important message from them. His curiosity getting the better of him, Pippin could not help but ask. "What are you looking at?"

Strider glanced away from the view of the night sky to look at Pippin. It was a long moment before he spoke, and his voice was soft when he finally answered. "Old friends."

"Old friends?" Pippin asked in confusion. "There's nothing up there but points of light. They're pretty enough, I suppose, but how can they be friends?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across Strider's face as he turned his full attention to the young hobbit. "I learned the names and histories of many of those 'points of light' when I was very young. They have been my constant companions through all the years of my life. The stars have borne silent witness to all of my joys and my sorrows, to both the pain and the happiness that I have experienced. What else could you call them but friends?"

Pippin's eyes were wide. "You know all their names?" His eyes drifted to all the points of light in the sky above them. "That's an awful lot of names to learn."

Strider actually chuckled at that, and looking around, realized he had the attention of all four hobbits, not just Pippin. "No, not all of them. I learned their names from the elves, but I doubt even the elves have named them all."

"Can you tell me some of them?" Pippin asked curiously.

A quick nod was Strider's response, and he turned to look back into the sky. "There," he said, pointing. "Do you see that bright star, low on the horizon?" When the hobbits nodded, he continued. "That is Eärendil, father of Lord Elrond, half-elven. He sailed to Valinor to petition the Valar to intervene and help Men and Elven-kind to rid Middle-earth of Morgoth. Now he sails the skies in his mighty ship, Vingilot, with the light of a Silmaril shining as a beacon of hope in the darkness. Ever have I sought him when I gaze into the night sky. He has been a comfort to me when there was no other comfort to be had."

When Strider's soft voice faded away, the hobbits stared at him in amazement. "An elf sails the sky in a ship?" Pippin asked incredulously.

"Half-elf, but yes," the man answered, nodding.

"Do any more people or elves reside in the sky?" Merry asked. His curiosity was now as strong as Pippin's. The hobbits had their own stories of the stars, though few hobbits truly took an interest in the skies, their interests tending to be of the more earthly variety, tending their gardens and fields. But he had never heard of such a thing as an elf sailing the night sky.

"As far as I know, Eärendil is unique in that honor," Strider answered. "Though there are more stories of those who reside in the heavens. Would you like to hear them?"

"Yes, please," Merry said, and the other hobbits nodded eagerly.

"Very well," Strider answered. He proceeded to point out Menelvagor, the huntsman of the sky, and his faithful hunting companion Elenhu, and explained the age old hunt that was taking place as the two tracked Elnimaras, the white stag through the heavens. It was a story that had fascinated him since his childhood, and it succeeded at capturing the attention of all four hobbits as well. They spent much of the night with Strider pointing out one grouping of stars after another, naming them and telling the hobbits their stories. There was Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar, Wilwarin, the butterfly and Soronúmë, the eagle. Pointing out the north star, Elenforod, he told them that they could always figure out which way they were heading if they knew that star. Deciding it would be a good idea, he also gave them a quick lesson in how to navigate their way by the stars. The future was uncertain, and they may one day need to know how to find their way by the stars.

Strider spoke long into the night, telling them all he could think of about the stars, and answering their many and varied questions. This night had drawn them all out of their shells, and the hobbits were inquisitive and enthusiastic students in this matter. Finally, Strider insisted that the hobbits get some rest, as tomorrow would be another long day of traveling.

Laying on his back, Pippin watched the stars for a long time before he drifted off to sleep. The sky seemed new to him, alive with people and history and stories in a way it never had before. "Thank you," he whispered before allowing sleep to claim him at last.

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Months later, after the breaking of the Fellowship and Boromir's death, Pippin was in misery as he was carried along on the back of an Uruk-hai, heading to who knew what doom. Merry was unconscious, and Pippin was utterly alone. Looking up toward the sky, Pippin saw a break in the clouds, and beyond it, the stars shining down upon him.

Catching sight of Eärendil, also known as Gil-Estel, the star of high hope, Pippin could not help but feel his hope rise out of the depths of despair. Though his situation had not changed, he felt better thinking that the half-elf was watching over him. After having met Elrond, he could not help but think that his father would have to be as kind and understanding as he was. Perhaps there was a chance that they would come out of this safely after all. He didn't have the faintest idea how that would happen, but he was able to take comfort in those pinpoints of light like he never had before. "Thank you, Strider," he whispered. In that one night of lessons, the man had given him hope and comfort. He had given Pippin the very stars in the sky.

The End

Author's Notes: OK, again, as the astronomy buff I am, I feel the need to re-iterate what constellation is what. I went into more depth in my story 'Shoot The Moon', but here are the constellations that Tolkien mentioned, and the ones I made up. I didn't actually use all of these in this particular story, but I thought I might as well include all of the notes I have.

Tolkien:
Menelvagor - The Swordsman of the Sky. He forbodes the Last Battle that shall be at the end of days.
This constellation is clearly Orion, and is specified as such in the index of the Silmarillion.

Valcirca - The Sickle of the Valar. This is a crown of seven mighty stars that are a sign of doom. This has been identified as The Great Bear, Ursa Major, also known as the Big Dipper.

Wilwarin – The butterfly, this was speculated to be Cassiopeia

Soronúmë – The eagle, was thought to possibly be Aquila.

The named stars that Tolkien mentioned were Carnil, Luinil, Nénar, Lumbar, Alcarinquë, Elemmírë and of course Eärendil, also known as Gil-Estel. I am sure that Eärendil is actually Venus. Since planets were first called ‘wandering stars’ I put that into the story.

Mine:

I needed to use the constellation Canis Major for the hunting story, so that constellation became Elenhu; Elen- star and Hu- dog. The star that marked his eye, Sirius in our sky, I named Alcarinquë, the ‘Glorious star’ from Tolkien, because it is the brightest actual star in the sky.

I also wanted a creature that would typically be hunted, and since Ursa Major had been identified as a sickle and not a bear, I had to come up with something else in the night sky. I looked at some star charts and decided that a little re-working of Pegasus would create a great stag in the sky. This constellation became Elnimaras, El – star, nim – white, and aras – deer.

I also had to point out the north star, Polaris, so that became Elenforod, Elen – star and Forod – north.

Title: Love's Choice

Rating: G

Summary: Arwen and her father have a long-awaited talk. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #33: Acceptance.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters.

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Arwen listened as soft footsteps approached her, halted, then began to recede as the other started walking away. She sighed softly to herself before speaking up. "You may as well join me, Ada. There is room for us both, and you cannot keep avoiding me." Her tone was slightly chiding. She had only recently returned to Imladris from Lothlorien after pledging to forsake her immortal life for a mortal existence with Aragorn. Every time her father saw her, he was reminded of her decision and the fact that he would lose her to death. While she understood his reasons for avoiding her, she had to put a stop to this.

She had not only returned to Imladris for Aragorn's sake, but to spend time with her family. Now that she must face the fact that she no longer had centuries to look forward to, she wanted to spend what time she had with her father and brothers. However, it was rather difficult to spend time with her father when he retreated every time he spotted her.

Elrond hesitated in the doorway, before berating himself for a coward and stepping out onto the balcony. She was right, his behavior had been unacceptable. Taking a seat on the bench next to her, he sat in silence, not knowing how to bridge the chasm that had sprung up between them.

Arwen took the initiative and spoke into the silence. "I have missed you, Ada."

Her words cut deeply into Elrond's heart because he knew she did not only mean during the time she had spent in Lothlorien, but since she had returned home. "I have missed you, too, Arwen," Elrond's voice was sad as he reached for her hand.

"We should not have to miss each other when we reside in the same house," Arwen pointed out. Since her father seemed reluctant to broach the topic they needed to discuss, Arwen forced herself to speak, though she knew her words would hurt him. "I know why you avoid me, Ada, but I could make no other choice. I love Aragorn, and I could not imagine trying to survive an eternity without him. My heart would break under the sorrow, and I hope you would not have that be my fate?"

Elrond's breath caught in his throat at the thought of his daughter having to live the rest of her life mourning a lost love, knowing she had lost her one chance at happiness. "No, I would not wish that," he said softly. "But I do not wish to lose you."

Arwen knew one thing that would make him see why she had to make the decision she had. "Ada, if Naneth had been mortal, what would you have done?"

The question pierced Elrond's heart as he thought of his beautiful, golden haired wife. His grief when she had sailed had nearly caused him to fade. Only the love of his children and the sense that he had many things yet to do had kept him from sailing with her. Every day since then, he had missed her intensely. If that was how Arwen and Aragorn felt about each other… Shaking his head, he finally saw how deeply Arwen loved Aragorn. "I would do exactly as you have done, and would let none stand in my way," he said, wrapping an arm around Arwen's shoulders and pulling her close, resting his head atop hers as he came to accept that this was the right choice for both her and Aragorn. Though he was saddened at the loss he would have to face, he was happy for his children, that they had found the same sort of love that he shared with Celebrían. Theirs was a love that would make all hardships worthwhile, a love that would only grow over the years as they started a family of their own. A smile crossed his face as he realized that they had found exactly the sort of love he would have wished for them both. And that, he had no trouble accepting.

Title: Hope Will Prevail

Author: Misty

Rating: G

Summary: Estel overhears a discussion between Elrond and Glorfindel and has a few questions. This was written for the Middle-earth Express challenge prompt #34: Enemy.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Tolkien's characters and make no money from any of this.

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Estel sat hidden in the recessed nook near his father's office. The door to Elrond's office stood slightly ajar, and Estel listened to the conversation his father and Glorfindel were having. They had been in there for over an hour now, discussing the patrols of Imladris and the many enemies they faced. Estel had listened with horror and a thrill of excitement that was the purview of the young, to the tales of orcs, wargs, and trolls that the elves had faced and destroyed. Glorfindel and Elrond were worried, Estel could tell that much as he eavesdropped.

"The legions of darkness are increasing every day, Elrond," Glorfindel said, pointing to the map spread out before him. "Orcs on the edges of Lothlórien, and in the woods beyond this valley, trolls not far from here, orcs and spiders in Mirkwood. Their numbers grow and it is all we can do to hold them back." A sigh escaped the golden-haired elf. "We are losing this war, Elrond. It does not seem to matter how many of the foul creatures our patrols eliminate, there will always be more to replace them."

Elrond stepped forward and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Do not lose hope, mellon-nin. We are still here, still alive, and still fighting. They have not won. Do not give them a premature victory. There is still hope. Never forget that."

Glorfindel lowered his head before looking up and meeting his lord's steady gaze. "Forgive me, hîr-nin. You are correct. We have not lost this war, and we will not. Forgive my doubt."

A small smile crossed Elrond's face. "There is nothing to forgive, my friend. All of us have moments of doubt from time to time."

They spoke only a few moments before Glorfindel left Elrond's office. Estel crept out of hiding and peeked inside the room. His father stood near the window, gazing out over the valley, the warm afternoon light shining on his face. "Please come in Estel." He spoke without turning around.

Estel pushed the door open and entered the office, taking a seat as Elrond turned to face him. "How did you know I was there?"

Elrond smiled at his ten-year-old son. "I always know when you are near, Estel. How much of our conversation did you hear?"

Hanging his head, Estel could not meet his father's eyes. It was impossible to lie to his father. "A lot."

"I see. Do you have any questions?" Elrond's voice was mild as he watched the boy.

His head shot up in surprise when he heard no reproof in his father's voice. Thinking hard, he had one question that he had to ask. "Why did you accuse Glorfindel of giving the Enemy a premature victory? Glorfindel would never surrender to any enemy!" His voice was fierce as he defended the elf he idolized.

"You are correct that Glorfindel would never surrender his troops to a physical enemy. But one of the most important lessons you will learn as you grow is that our worst enemies are not orcs, wargs, trolls or spiders. Our worst enemy has no physical body, Estel. Despair, the loss of hope, they are our true enemies. As long as we hold out hope, no enemy can defeat us. If we give in to despair, we will lose sight of the reason we fight, and we have already lost."

Estel thought about that for a long moment. "We can defeat our enemies with something as simple as hope?"

Elrond nodded, placing his hand on Estel's head. "Hope is our greatest weapon against that worst of enemies, despair. It is partly why I named you as I did. You remind me daily of why we fight. You are my hope, Estel. Remember this, my son. Hope has ever been your gift, and with it, you will prevail over all your enemies."

With a solemn nod, Estel took Elrond's words to heart and those words stayed with him throughout his life, encouraging him and reminding him that no matter what difficulty he faced, he could not give up hope.

Title: Bittersweet

Summary: Gilraen reflects on life on Estel's birthday. This was written for the ME express prompt #35: Birthday.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters. They're all the property of Tolkien and his estate.

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A smile crossed Gilraen's face as a shriek of childish laughter split the air. She watched as Elladan swung the small child up to sit atop his shoulders. Aragorn…no, Estel had turned five years old today, and his brothers, the sons of Elrond, had just finished giving him his birthday gifts; an assortment of books, toys and clothes. She glanced aside and found Elrond watching his sons playing with Estel, a paternal smile on his lips.

The smile faded from her face as she realized that he counted her son as one of his children. Truly, she was grateful to the elven lord for taking them in and treating Estel as if he were his own son, but he was not Elrond's son. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, did not know who his true father was, did not even know his name, his father's or his own for that matter.

Her feelings on this matter were mixed, at best. Elrond and his sons had done their best to give her son an ideal childhood, a place of safety, and the love of a family. They truly did consider her son, and by extension, her, part of their family. She loved them for that, but at the same time, she could not help but resent that they had taken Arathorn's place in the life of her child. Aragorn should have grown up as the son of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain with her and Arathorn. Her husband had been taken from them far too soon.

He had been riding with Elladan and Elrohir against the orcs when he fell. At times, she hated them for that, for surviving when her husband was gone. But then she would watch them with Estel and feel shame for her thoughts.

As idyllic as their life seemed here, she could not help but long for a simpler home. All the beauty of Imladris did not compare to the home she had once had, a home with her husband and child, one filled with love and laughter. Estel had love and laughter here, but she did not. Every time she heard her son call Elrond 'Ada', it only served to remind her that his real father was not here.

Sighing, she tried to break out of her melancholy mood. She did not normally dwell on such thoughts, usually able to shake them off when they occurred. Each year, on Estel's birthday, however, she was reminded that her husband was not here to see his son growing up. But she would not have her melancholy mood ruin her son's birthday.

"Nana!" Estel cried from where he now sat in Elrond's lap. "Come see what Ada gave me!" He waved a small, intricately carved animal in each hand, and she smiled at him as she crossed the room to praise his gifts, hiding her pain away for another day. Today was about Estel, his happiness, and his family. Birthdays should always be a time of joy, not sorrow.

Title: The Monster Within

Rating: G

Summary: Frodo's thoughts as he comes to himself in Osgiliath. Movie-verse. This was written for the ME challenge prompt #36: Fear.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of them or make a penny from any of this.

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Large, panicked eyes staring up at me. The voice of someone calling me, begging me to recognize him. I know that voice. The mist and darkness begin to fade from my eyes, showing me more clearly what is before me. The sight is horrifying; Sam on the ground, fear in his eyes as he stares up at me. Why is he scared of me? Then I see it, Sting… my sword, held at his throat. This cannot be. How could this have happened? I would never hurt Sam, not my Sam.

I back away slowly, my heart in my throat as I realize what I almost did. It's all I can do to keep from losing what little I have in my stomach as I move away, dropping my sword, unable to bear the feel of it in my hand. I cannot believe what nearly happened. How did I come to this? I do not know. The last thing I remember is being led into this ruined city by Faramir and his men. What happened next? Wait…a sound, fear, darkness. I know that darkness. I have felt it before. A wraith. That must be it, a wraith came, and then what?

What horror could have brought me to the point that I held a sword to Sam's throat? How could I ever have come so close to hurting the most loyal friend I have ever had?

The ring. It's changing me in ways I never thought could happen. Am I falling to it, like Boromir and all the others it's tempted over the years? I can't allow that to happen. I can't allow myself to succumb to its power, or all Middle-earth will suffer.

I shake my head in disbelief. Did the elves know something like this could happen? How could they ever trust the ring to me, knowing that I could fall to it and destroy all their plans? There was little chance from the beginning that I could escape all the foul creatures chasing after us, the wraiths, the orcs, the trolls and wargs. But those were the only dangers I saw when I though about taking on this quest. I never expected anything like this. I never expected to turn on my friends.

Sitting on the ground, shaking from my attack on Sam, I realize something. It is not the monsters chasing us that I fear most, it is the monster I may become.

Title: Hope Renewed

Summary: The darkening of Mirkwood as seen through the eyes of one of its many inhabitants. This was written for the ME express challenge prompt # 37: Forest.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters created by Tolkien, and I make no money off of any of this.

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Darkness. Fear. Pain. Despair. This is all I see, this is what our lives have become. All around me, there is only darkness, the spread of evil among us, among the place we have lived for so long. Where once there was peace, light, and the joy of living, now there is none. The orcs come among us, bringing death, pain, fire and destruction. Their filthy, heavy booted feet spread the touch of evil among this place, our home, like a poison. Many animals fled, and those who remained became something ugly, some twisted version of what they had once been. I could only watch as my forest, my home was slowly and mercilessly transformed from the joyful place it had once been.

These woods were once known as Greenwood the Great, but we now reside in Mirkwood. Mirkwood, how I despise that name. Unfortunately, it is an accurate name. Where once the light shone down upon us, reaching to the forest floor, there is now perpetual gloom. Travelers fear to step foot within these woods, and with good reason. I cannot bear to recount the atrocities I have witnessed here, never being able to help, feeling more and more helpless. There seems to be nothing I can do to stop the spread of this malignant presence that infects us, sickens us. I have watched too many of my friends and neighbors fall victim to this malingering sickness, darkening their hearts and minds until they are no longer recognizable. They are changed and cannot reclaim who and what they once were.

Though I fight it with all of my heart, I can feel hope leaving me. For what hope is there when all I ever see is pain and darkness?

Then I hear a voice, one unknown to me, speaking of hope. I am not alone in this fight, the voice says. I must hold on long enough for the side of light to prevail. Others are fighting for us, with us. Though it may be nothing more than the hope of an old fool who wishes things were different, I find myself wanting to believe this voice. The speaker is fair, and while I sense he has seen many of the same horrors I have witnessed, his essence is still pure and filled with light. With beings such as he fighting for us, perhaps hope remains. I cling to this thought and feel the strength of my renewed hope surging through me, burning away the lingering malaise. Thank you, my new friend, I whisper to him. I will hope, and one day, perhaps you and I will meet again when our home is once more filled with light and life.

"You're welcome, my friend," Legolas said in return as he let his hand linger upon the trunk of the great Oak, the only tree in sight that was not twisted and decaying. "I look forward to that day. Just remember that there is always hope."

Title: A Father's Love

Beta: NiRi

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir bring a surprise when they arrive to visit the King and Queen of Gondor. Written for the ME express prompt #39: Cradle.

Disclaimers: Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own them, I don't make any money from this, etc.

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"Elladan, Elrohir!" Arwen turned as she heard Aragorn's voice calling to her brothers. Upon hearing the news that she and Aragorn were expecting their first child, they had decided to come for an extended visit. This was one event they did not intend to miss. A joyful smile broke out on her face as she saw her brothers standing in the hallway.

So alike were they that strangers and even some close friends could not tell them apart, but Arwen had never had trouble knowing which brother was which. Elladan and Elrohir were greeting Aragorn, not having seen her yet. As she approached, Aragorn looked up and caught her eyes, signaling her arrival to her brothers.

Elladan turned and took in the sight of his younger sister, her elven glow enhanced by her pregnancy. His eyes roamed over her rounded stomach, then back up to her eyes with a smile on his face. Stepping forward, he caught her in a gentle hug, quickly followed by Elrohir.

"You look radiant," Elrohir said as they pulled back to arm's length and he took a long look at his sister.

Arwen simply smiled at her brothers. "I am so glad to see you both," she said, pulling them in for another quick hug. When she released them, she kept hold of their hands, so happy was she to see them. "We were just about to take our meal in the garden. It will be easy enough to set two more places."

Elladan looked up and caught the eye of a page standing in the hallway. The page nodded his head, and Elladan turned back to his sister. "The meal can wait for a short time. There is something you and Aragorn need to see first."

Arwen narrowed her eyes and gave her brothers an appraising look. "Only here for a minute and already you have a prank in place? My, you really do not waste any time, do you?"

Elrohir affected an innocent look. "A prank? Us? Would we do anything like that to a woman with child?"

"When that woman is your sister and the most frequent victim of said pranks, then yes, I certainly do believe that you would." Arwen had dropped their hands and now placed them on her hips as she stared at first one brother, then the next.

Elladan's expression was serious as he gazed back at his sister. "This is no prank, Arwen. We have a surprise for you, and it is one you need to see."

Hearing the serious note in his voice, Arwen dropped her teasing demeanor. "Very well. What is it that we need to see?"

"It is a surprise," Elladan said, reaching out and taking hold of her hand once again.

Arwen let her brothers lead her down the hallway, Aragorn striding beside them, just as curious as she was. Her curiosity only grew as they were led through the king and queen's chambers to approach the nursery. She and Aragorn had begun preparing the small room adjoining their bedchambers as a nursery for the baby. What did the twins have planned?

Elrohir gently pushed open the door, then stood aside to allow Aragorn and Arwen to enter the room.

They gasped as they saw the magnificent wooden cradle sitting in the middle of the room. The light colored wood shone in the soft light filtering in through the curtains. The rounded ends of the cradle were covered in detailed carvings, and Arwen and Aragorn moved forward quickly to examine them. On the headboard, there were intricate carvings of Minas Tirith with the symbols of the Royal house, the white tree and seven stars, above the city. The footboard, on the other hand, was carved front and back with scenes from the elven realms of Imladris and Lothlórien.

Arwen's breath caught in her throat and tears formed in her eyes as she traced her hand gently over the scenes of Imladris, causing the cradle to rock gently beneath her hand. Aragorn did the same, trailing his hand lightly over the smooth wooden railings on the sides of the cradle. Sensing that Arwen could not yet speak, Aragorn turned to face the twins. "Thank you. The cradle is beautiful. I have never seen its like anywhere."

Elladan nodded. "It is indeed special, but Elrohir and I did not make it."

Arwen turned to look at him. "If not you…" her voice trailed off and the tears in her eyes overflowed as she realized what Elladan was about to say.

"Ada made this before he sailed," Elladan spoke softly, stepping forward and embracing Arwen as he continued. "Though he could not remain here long enough to see your children, he wanted them, and you, to have a reminder of his love." He pointed out the carvings. "Your children will be a combination of the both of you, elven and human, represented by the places you have both called home over the years."

Elladan paused for a moment to clear away the tightness in his throat before continuing. "Ada worked tirelessly on this for many days, wanting each curve of the wood, each line etched to be perfect, a symbol of his love for you, his children, and for your children. Though he was not able to stay long enough to meet them, he already loved them as part of his family, and this cradle is his expression of that love."

His voice broke, and he lowered his head to rest upon Arwen's. Aragorn stood close to her, rubbing a hand lightly up and down her back. Elrohir looked away from the three of them for a moment, tears in his own eyes. Aragorn opened his other arm to his brother, and Elrohir stepped into his embrace. For a long moment, the four of them stood thus, grieving the loss of their father, but at the same time, taking joy in his love for all of them.

Even from a land far across the sea, he had found a way to make sure they knew how much he loved all of them.

Title: The Road goes ever on

Dedication: This story was written for and dedicated to Sio, who suggested the general idea and let me run with it. Merry Christmas!

Summary: Frodo's thoughts at key points within the trilogy. This was inspired by the ME Express challenge prompt #41: Road. (It certainly is too long to be considered a prompt fic.)

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

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Frodo paused for a moment, turning back to look at Bag End for what could be the last time. He clutched his pocket tightly, feeling the outline of the golden ring that had been left to him by Bilbo on his departure. Though he did not wish to leave his home, and hated being forced to flee in order to keep the Shire safe, he felt a small thrill of excitement. He was heading off on an adventure, much like Bilbo had, so long ago. Often in his thoughts he had roamed the lands of Middle-earth with Bilbo, fighting dragons and trolls, flying with the eagles, and hunting treasure with the dwarves. In all his years, though, he had never left the boundaries of the Shire. This would be his chance to see more of the world and those that dwelled within it. He and Sam were going to visit Rivendell and see the elves. A smile crossed his face at the thought. That would certainly make Sam quite happy. They would bring the ring to Lord Elrond and once that was done…well, they would just have to see, wouldn't they?

"Goodbye," Frodo whispered to the darkened house, where he had spent so many happy years. Waving, he turned resolutely toward the road, and took his first step away from the safety of his home. Though he expected danger to follow him, he couldn't help the feeling of anticipation rising in him as he and Pippin started out. This would be quite an adventure.

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Frodo glanced around at all the elves standing nearby, watching he and the rest of the fellowship as they prepared to leave the peaceful valley and journey into the very heart of the Enemy's realm. Elrond's words resounded in his ears, telling the others that only Frodo bore the charge to see to the destruction of the ring. The others would only be asked to go as far with him as they chose. In a way, Frodo was glad of that. It was not his choice to bring Sam, Merry and Pippin with him into such danger, but he was glad of their company now. Perhaps that would change later, and he could convince them to leave him and find safety for themselves. He would not wish them to be bound by a vow to follow him in such a case. Their brave and loyal hearts would never allow them to break any vow, especially one such as that.

Glancing at Aragorn, he found himself quite glad that the man had chosen to accompany him for as much of their journey as their paths coincided. He knew that he would have to part with the man when he and Boromir turned toward Gondor, but Frodo was grateful that he would have Strider's protection for hundreds of miles. The knowledge that Gandalf would be with him was a source of great comfort. Gandalf had long been a friend of his and Bilbo's, and though Frodo felt that he did not truly know the power the wizard possessed, he felt sure that Gandalf would not allow him to come to any harm if it were within his power. A frown briefly crossed Frodo's face as his hand came up to clutch briefly at his shoulder. Lowering his hand quickly, he hoped no one had seen the gesture. The wound from the wraith's blade was a vivid reminder that even when a protector was near, he could still be wounded. He only hoped that Gandalf, Strider, and the others would be enough to at least protect Sam, Merry and Pippin. It would break his heart utterly if any of them came to harm because of him.

Glancing around at the other members of the fellowship, he considered what little he knew of Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli. They had actually not spent a great deal of time together thus far, so he did not know much about them. Boromir was a strong man, strong of body and strong in his opinions. If he did not agree with what was being said, he did not hesitate to share his thoughts. Frodo sensed that he was an honorable man, however, one who loved and wished to protect his people. Legolas was still a mystery to Frodo. The elf had spent most of their time here with the other elves, and Frodo had seen little of him at all. The elf seemed merry enough, most times singing and wandering the gardens, though being around Gimli was the surest way to bring a frown to his face. It could be quite interesting, having the elf and dwarf on this quest together. They constantly bickered and sniped at each other, and while Legolas seemed quite content to simply ignore the dwarf, Gimli took great pleasure in irritating the woodland elf. Frodo knew their enmity stemmed from the encounter between their fathers, but wondered how they would behave as traveling companions.

A sound broke into his thoughts and he turned to see the others readying their packs and preparing to leave. Frodo straightened up, settled his pack firmly on his shoulders and moved to take his place among the fellowship. Glancing around at the beauty of Imladris, he felt a tear come to his eye. This would not be an easy trip, in any way, and at the end of this road, there would be no place of safety and beauty waiting for him. The very name of Mordor struck fear into his heart, and it was that place to which they now headed. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he turned his gaze to the steep path leading out of the peaceful valley. That path led to what would be the most important journey of his life. The road that stretched out before him now seemed long, hard and very uncertain.

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Beaten and bloody, weary and defeated, Frodo stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out over the vast expanse of Mordor stretching out before him. His shoulders slumped wearily. Though they had come so far, through so much pain and sorrow, they still had such a distance to go. This land was crawling with orcs and other servants of the Enemy, standing between him and Sam and the mountain they had to reach. How could they reach their destination? They had not come so far only to fail now, but he did not see how they could possibly reach Mount Doom through all of those foul creatures filling this land.

It still amazed him that he and Sam had escaped Cirith Ungol alive. When he awoke in the dark tower to find the orcs taunting and hurting him, stripped of his clothes and all his belongings, he had thought the entire quest ended in failure. The despair that had swept over him then had nearly stopped his heart. The absence of the ring around his neck had caused panic and pain that was nearly unbearable. When he had seen Sam in that tower, his heart had leapt in joy, but then shame filled him as he had to admit that he had lost the ring, that he had failed. Finding out that Sam had the ring, he had felt such a need to have it back in his possession that he had grabbed it out of Sam's hand. Thinking on it now, he felt shamed. He knew that Sam had only wanted to help him. It was ever Sam's first thought, how to help make Frodo's life easier, how to help him.

Looking beside him, Frodo saw Sam standing firm beside him, where he had been since the start of this wretched quest. Steeling his resolve, he took one step on the path. No matter how hot, weary or broken he was, he still had a journey to finish. The road stretching out before him seemed endless and hopeless, but he had to try.

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Stopping to look back over his shoulder, Frodo gazed back at the glorious seven-tiered city of Minas Tirith. The time he had spent here as a guest of the king, of Aragorn and his new queen, the Lady Arwen, still seemed nothing so much as a wonderful dream. He had accepted in the depths of Mordor that he would never return from those dark lands, that he and Sam, loyal to the end, would perish there. The fulfillment of the quest, no matter how it had happened, had lightened his heart and relieved his mind. At least they would not now die in vain. As the world exploded around them, he relaxed back, secure that Sauron was defeated, that the world, the Shire, was safe. That was all that really mattered.

When he had awoken and seen Gandalf sitting beside him, he had first thought he had died. After seeing Gandalf fall in Moria, how else would the wizard be at his side? However, Gandalf had reassured him that he was alive, that they had succeeded and had been rescued, plucked from the fires that sought to devour them. Once they had arrived in Minas Tirith and seen Aragorn crowned, Frodo's thoughts had turned back toward the Shire. He wanted nothing more than to return home, see the lands he loved and the place he thought he would find peace. At Aragorn's request, he had remained, and seen the arrival of Arwen, and had witnessed their wedding. That had been a truly joyful moment for them all, and he was so grateful that he had lived and been able to see it. But now, it was finally time to return home.

Frodo glanced down at his hand and saw his missing finger once again. It was an ever present reminder of all the horrors he had lived through, the changes that had taken place within him. He did not know if he could return to the life he had once led, but he wanted to try. Glancing around him, he saw all of his friends, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, and many others. They had all survived, and were moving on, living their lives and relishing the world of peace they had all achieved. A smile crossed his face and he turned back to look at the road before him. This road was one he had never thought he would travel, the road home.

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Sighing softly, Frodo glanced around once more at his home. Bag End had been cleaned up and restored wonderfully after they had thrown out Sharkey and his men. It was back to being as he remembered it, as the home he had grown up in. Smiling, he thought that it would be a great place for Sam and Rosie, and all the children they would have. Sam deserved this chance to live his life for himself, no longer having to worry about taking care of Frodo, trying to help him heal from wounds that could not be healed in Middle Earth. Though he had never thought that he would use Arwen's gift to him, he now knew that he would find no peace and healing here, as he had once thought.

It would hurt Sam deeply, he and Merry and Pippin. He had never wanted to hurt any of them, but he knew they would understand, eventually. He and Bilbo would take one final journey with the elves, sailing to a faraway land. There, and only there, would they be able to find the peace and healing they so desired.

Trailing his fingers over the large book lying on the table before him, he smiled wistfully. His story on Middle-earth was finished, his time over. The last page was filled, the last word written. Now it was time for Sam to pick up pen and ink and continue the tale, filling the pages with his words, and this home with his life and laughter. Glancing out the window, he saw Sam waiting with their ponies, Strider and Bill. It was time to start. He hated to think of the pain that Sam would feel when he told him the true purpose of this journey, but Sam would heal. He would come home to his wife and little Elanor, and go on with his life, as it should be.

As he stepped through the door, Bilbo's traveling song came to his mind and he smiled to himself as he began singing under his breath, 'The Road goes ever on and on'. His road, it would seem, was not quite ended, a brand new adventure lying before him. Excitement and joy welled up within him as he mounted his pony and gestured for Sam to ride alongside him. "Come, Sam, it is time we were on the road."

Title: Warmth

Rating: G

Summary: A weary traveler finds refuge. This is written for the ME express prompt #42: Peace.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters. I don't make any money, I just like to borrow the characters and world for a bit.

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A lone figure waded through the deepening snow, pulling his cloak tighter about his shivering frame. The biting wind cut through his clothing, and his breath frosted on the air, only to be ripped away, leaving him to fill his lungs with as much of the frigid air as he could endure. It almost felt as if his breath were freezing in his lungs. He had long ago ceased having any feeling in his toes or fingers, and forced himself to continue his lonely journey, putting one foot in front of the other in the hopes of reaching his destination before he succumbed to the cold.

Though he tried to keep alert for any signs of danger, the cold had numbed his senses as well as his body, and he kept his eyes downcast on the path before him. It was a struggle to keep his feet on the path that was now hidden by the deep snow, and he had to concentrate in order not to lose his way. Losing track of time as he traveled in his world of cold, wind and snow, he at first thought he was imagining things when a faint sound drifted to his ears in a lull, the wind ceasing momentarily. Lifting his head, he strained his eyes into the darkness ahead, trying to decide how far he had come. There was a flicker of light ahead of him, and he moved forward again, no longer watching the path, but the light that was so tantalizingly close.

Stumbling forward, he hurried as much as possible to the source of the light. A wondrous sight rose out of the snowstorm before him; a house with light spilling from every window, the voices laughing and singing finally strong enough to be heard over the roar of the wind. A smile crossed his frozen lips as he reached for the front door. It was a struggle to open the door when his fingers would not cooperate, but then the door opened from the inside, saving him the trouble.

"Estel!" came two joyful voices, calling out in unison. The traveler was pulled into the warmth of the house, and he was enveloped in the firm embrace of two dark-haired, identical elves.

Aragorn relaxed and tried to bring his frozen arms up to return the hugs. Though he moved stiffly, he wrapped his arms around them both and took comfort in the warmth of their greeting as well as their body heat.

As they pulled back from him, Elladan frowned. "Your lips are blue, Estel."

Knowing that his frozen lips and tongue would not allow him to form coherent words, he merely nodded. "C..c..cold," he finally stuttered. Elladan reached out to touch his face and frowned at the temperature of his skin.

"Come," Elladan said, draping an arm around Aragorn's shoulders and leading him further into the house. "We must warm you up." Elladan escorted Aragorn to his room while Elrohir went to inform Elrond that Aragorn had returned. Elrond immediately left the gathering and joined the others in Aragorn's room. The man had already shed his cold, wet clothing and was wrapped in a thick blanket by the fireplace.

"Ada," Aragorn said with a smile as he saw Elrond enter the room. He made an attempt to stand, but was held down in the chair by Elladan. Elrond crossed the room to kneel in front of Aragorn, then reached forward and pulled Aragorn into a tight hug. Aragorn's arms were already obeying him better, and he eagerly returned his father's embrace.

"Welcome home, ion-nin." Elrond spoke softly in Aragorn's ear.

Elrohir studied Aragorn's face as he pulled back from his father and settled back into his chair. "At least your lips are no longer blue," he commented. "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better," Aragorn answered. "Still cold, but much better, thank you." His shivering had nearly stopped, and feeling was slowly returning to his fingers and toes. Unfortunately, the feeling that was returning was accompanied by a painful tingling sensation.

A knock on the door brought their attention to Erestor, standing in the doorway with a tray in hand bearing a kettle of hot water and fixings for tea. Smiling at the shivering man, he entered the room. "It is good to see you home, Estel. Would you care for a cup of hot tea?"

"I would love anything hot," Aragorn answered with a wry grin. Erestor fixed a cup of tea and handed it over to Aragorn. After a few sips, Aragorn relaxed back into his chair, the shivering easing.

"We did not think you would be home this winter," Elrond said as they all made themselves comfortable in chairs around the fire, with cups of tea of their own.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Aragorn said, taking another sip of his tea. He smiled at his family as he finally began to warm up. "It had been too long since I had spent a winter solstice with my family. When I left, the weather was not so severe. I had thought I could make it here before the snow started. I did not want to miss another winter at home."

"We are very glad you made it home, and that you arrived in one piece, more or less," Elrond responded, slightly teasing. "We have missed having you here. The solstice celebration does not seem the same without you."

"Thank you, Ada," Aragorn said with a soft smile, ignoring the comment about arriving in one piece. Feeling tired from his journey, Aragorn rested his head back against his chair and listened as his family spoke softly with each other.

A feeling of warmth suffused Aragorn as he listened to the soft voices of those he loved. There was no place he would rather be at this moment. The fire crackled in the fireplace, enveloping the room and it's occupants in a soothing warmth. Aragorn gazed out the window and watched the snow fall to the ground. Now that he was not out in it, Aragorn could appreciate the beauty of the night. The wind had died down a little, so the snow now fell gently in large wet flakes. Come morning, Imladris would be shrouded in blanket of white. Taking the last sip of his tea, Aragorn felt the warmth spread throughout his body, chasing the last of the chill from him. He leaned forward to place the teacup on a nearby stand, then sighed as he settled back in his chair and pulled the blanket up around him. This was home, the place he belonged, a place to which he could always come back. A sense of peace filled him as he looked back around at his family, those who would always welcome him back with open arms. Giving in to his fatigue, he rested his head back against his chair and closed his eyes, drifting into the world of slumber with a peaceful smile on his face. He did not even notice when he was lifted and carried to his bed, being tucked in like he had been as a child.

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Seasons Greetings everyone!

Title: King of the Dead

Author: Misty

Rating: G

Summary: The King of the Dead confronts Aragorn. This was written for the ME express prompt #42: Peace. movie-verse.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or make any money from this.

/movie quote/

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I stare at the man who has dared to enter my realm. Who does this impertinent whelp think he is? We will do to him as we have done to all who entered here. None leave here alive. He dares to ask for our allegiance, to fight for him. Only one can command our allegiance; one who no longer exists. There is no longer a king in Gondor, and he is the only one with the power to command us. I move forward, swinging my sword at his neck. He blocks my blade! How is this possible? The weapons of the living have no power against us. His claim must be true, then. This is the sword of Elendil, reforged after having been broken, and he must be the rightful heir of Isildur…the heir of the man who cursed us.

My anger nearly overwhelms me as I think of Isildur. That man brought this existence upon us. Neither living, nor truly dead, we have been doomed to linger here in this place for centuries, unable to move on. We cannot join those who went before us, those we loved in life. That is the worst part of this curse…the separation. This man claims that if we fight for him, he will hold our oaths fulfilled, that we will be released from this never-ending torment. Can we trust him to do so, or will he betray us? I know what he thinks of us, that we are murderers, traitors and oath-breakers. Many a man would not hesitate to leave us to this curse. Is this man any different? Will he truly release us?

I must give this some thought. I chase them out to give myself some time. If there is any chance that we can escape and find peace at last, we must take it. If he betrays us, he and all of his people will suffer for it. But we must take this chance. We will fight.

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The battle is over, and I once again stand before this man, this heir of Isildur. We have fulfilled our part, now all that is left is to see whether he will fulfill his. The dwarf, irritating little creature that he is, tells the man not to release us. If he reneges on our deal, all will suffer my wrath. I watch him intently as he opens his mouth to speak.

/"I hold your oath fulfilled. Go. Be at peace."/

Peace? We are free? The centuries of pain, of anger and torment fade from my mind. A sense of lightness sweeps through me and I feel the hold this world has on me disappear. A light appears before me, and beyond them, I see the halls of Mandos. It is true, we are free now and can finally find our peace, and see those we love once again. A smile crosses my face as my surroundings change. I am going home at last.

Title: The Greatest Gift

Author: Misty

Rating: G

Summary: Gilraen and Estel celebrate Yule with the elves in Imladris. This was written for the ME express prompt #44: Gift. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

Disclaimers: The characters are not mine, I have absolutely no claim to them.

A/N: This came to mind after watching my nephews, niece and assorted other little cousins open their Christmas presents. Utter chaos, but so much fun to watch.

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Gilraen watched the scene before her with amusement. Estel was holding court, surrounded by attentive elves as he showed off his Yule gifts. At four years old, he was bright, inquisitive, and the center of attention. Holding a new gift, he darted from elf to elf, climbing up in a lap to share his new treasure, only to climb back down a moment later to visit another. She was constantly amazed by the patience and love expressed by so many of the elves toward her son. He was currently surrounded by Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, and Erestor. Estel’s happy chatter easily reached her ears where she sat nearby, watching her son charm all those around him.

Elrond glanced up at her and smiled at the look of contentment on her face. Looking around and seeing that Estel was currently quite occupied with the twins, he stood and made his way over to take a seat near Gilraen. They watched the scene in silence for a time.

"He seems quite happy with his gifts," Elrond commented softly, watching Estel show a new wooden toy to Glorfindel, who nodded solemnly and admired the gift.

Gilraen smiled. "He does like his gifts, my lord, but it is the attention he enjoys most. Knowing that everyone would be here for the festivities tonight, it was quite difficult to get him to sleep last night. His excitement was enough to keep him awake long into the night."

Elrond smiled as he beheld Estel with Elladan and Elrohir. "It was the same with my sons when they were small. It never ceased to amaze me, the amount of energy they have in such small bodies."

Laughing in agreement, Gilraen followed Elrond’s gaze. Her expression sobered as she watched her son with his ‘brothers’. "He is thriving here," she said softly, as she turned to look at Elrond. "You gave him the greatest gift the day you took us into your house. He has found a family in you, your sons and the rest of your household. I am grateful every day for the love you show him. Thank you."

Elrond looked at her seriously. "There is no need to thank me," he replied. "I do not see how any could be around him and not come to love him." Glancing up as Estel’s laughter rang through the room, a smile crossed his face, and he turned his attention back to Gilraen. "He has given us all a greater gift than any we could give him. He has returned happiness and the sound of a child’s laughter to a house too long without such joys." Hearing his sons’ laughter mingling with Estel’s, Elrond’s smile softened. "There is no greater gift to me than hearing laughter ringing out once again in this house. For that, I have you and your son to thank."

Gilraen nodded, and a contended silence fell between them as they turned to watch Estel play happily with the twins.

Title: Summer Storm

Summary: An elf enjoys a summer storm. This was written for the ME express prompt #47: Storm.

Disclaimers: I don’t own the elf. Pity.

A/N: I decided to take this prompt quite literally and use it as an exercise in descriptive writing. Please review and let me know how I did.

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Heavy, threatening clouds hung low over the woods. A sense of expectation filled the woods and all who dwelt within. There was a stillness in the air, an almost unnatural calm. The elf stood in a sheltered niche in the gardens, watching and waiting. A strong wind swept in, blowing loose leaves and debris into the air and bowing the branches of the trees under its force. The trees and grasses danced to the tune of the wind, twisting and swaying as they were blown about. Suddenly, a roll of thunder broke the silence, and then the clouds opened up and let loose their burden. Rain fell from the sky in a stinging torrent, pounding into the ground and everything unfortunate enough to be caught out in the deluge. Bright flashes of light illuminated the surrounding woods as lightning darted through the clouds above, some bolts leaping downward to touch the ground.

A smile nearly as bright as the lightning crossed the face of the watching elf as he beheld the flashes of lightning, each bolt a thing of beauty, reaching outward in intricate jagged patterns. Its transitory nature meant that one had to watch intently to catch each bolt as it raced through the sky, splitting the gloom of the day. Peals of thunder accompanied the glorious light show, loud enough that any conversation would have been made quite difficult. The hair on the back of the elf's neck stood at attention, reacting to the charged atmosphere around him. Truly, he never felt as alive as when in the middle of a lightning storm. The very air felt different, alive in a way it was not at any other time. Standing still under his shelter, he gazed into the sky, drinking in the sights, sounds and smells that came with such a storm.

Eventually, the lightning grew fainter and slowed in its wild dance across the skies. The thunder rumbled less often and sounded further away, and the sharp biting rain gave way to a more gentle rain, the kind that would soak the earth and provide nourishment for the trees and replenish the lakes and streams. This was a life-giving rain, not as wild and exciting as the storm, but even more important to the life of the forest. Stepping out into the rain, the elf began dancing along with the trees as they swayed now to a gentle wind, taking joy in the rain, reaching out to catch it in their branches, drinking deep of the rain as it fell about their roots. The trees took such joy in the rain that the elf could not help but join in.

When the rain finally ceased and the sun began to break through the clouds once more, Legolas took in a deep breath of the clean, fresh scent left behind in the wake of the rain. With a smile on his face, he turned to resume his journey, wondering anew at the grandeur of the world around him.

Title: Motivation to Endure

Rating: G

Summary: Elrond and Glorfindel discuss Aragorn's plans to leave in order to journey to Rohan and Gondor. This was written for the ME Express Prompt #54: Friendship.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, much as I might wish otherwise. I make no money from this.

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Sounds of joyful laughter drifted through the open doors to reach Elrond's ears. A smile curved his lips, and he pushed his chair back from his desk, standing and walking over to the balcony. Glancing down, he watched Aragorn playfully shove Legolas as they laughed. Elladan and Elrohir sat nearby, laughing at the by-play between their brother and the elven prince.

The smile slipped from Elrond's face as he watched the younger beings. Aragorn would be leaving soon. After much discussion, it had been decided that he would travel to the lands due East, to Rohan and Gondor and beyond, learning what he could of the lands and people. It was necessary for Aragorn to learn about the people they all hoped would one day welcome him as king, but Elrond feared what might happen while his son was far out of their reach.

Hearing a light footstep behind him, Elrond turned to see Glorfindel approaching. The golden elf looked over the edge of the balcony, and smiled at the sight. Turning to Elrond, he saw the serious expression on the elf lord's face. Knowing where his thoughts had led, Glorfindel spoke softly. "You worry for him."

"Yes," Elrond admitted, turning away from the view below to face his friend. "He will be further away than he has ever been before. We will not be able to come to his aid if he is in need. This will be a solitary journey for him, and as his father, I cannot help but fear for him."

Another burst of laughter brought a smile to Glorfindel's face. He simply listened for a moment before answering. "It is true that Aragorn must make this journey on his own, but he will not be alone, my friend." Gesturing toward the gardens below, he continued. "Wherever he may go, he will carry them with him. We have done all we can to raise him and train him, and now, as with any child, we must allow him to leave us behind, trusting that he will carry our love with him at all times."

Elrond was silent for a long moment as he stared back out into the gardens. "His path will be long and hard," he said softly. "There will come a time when thoughts of duty and his destiny will not be enough to sustain him, when his life will seem harsh and dismal. It is during those times that he will remember this day, his friends, his family, and it is those thoughts that will enable him to keep going beyond all endurance."

Glorfindel heard the distant tones in Elrond's voice that indicated his words were from a vision of the future. A chill shot down his spine at the thought that Aragorn would find himself in such a state of mind. Forcing himself to show no reaction, he sought to comfort Elrond. "Then friendship and love will see him through all the days of his life."

Elrond nodded slowly. "Yes, they will."

Rating: G

Summary: A friend muses on Elrond's life. This is for the Middle-earth express prompt # 56: Abandoned.

Disclaimers: Sadly, I don't own any of the characters, or have any rights to them.

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Glorfindel stood in the shadows, watching those gathered in a courtyard of Minas Tirith. Aragorn and the twins were joking, teasing their father, who merely looked at them with a raised eyebrow, exactly the reaction they were trying to elicit. The laughter that reached Glorfindel's ears gladdened his heart. The sound of Frodo's laughter was rare, and greatly treasured by all that heard it. The golden elf knew that Elrond was gladly playing along with his children, trying to bring a bit of life and joy back to the hobbit who had been through such misery. A day in the sun with friends was the treatment Elrond had declared for Frodo, and Glorfindel was glad to see that his friend was right.

But then, Elrond had a gift for knowing what those around him were feeling, for knowing what it was they needed. Glorfindel shook his head as he thought about the amazing way that Elrond related to those around him. He truly cared for everyone he met, be they human, elf, dwarf or hobbit. It was his greatest desire to heal the hurts of everyone he came in contact with. Those qualities were rare in anyone, let alone one with Elrond's history.

A sober look came over the elf's face as he thought over Elrond's life. In his place, many would be bitter, and attempt to withdraw from those around them, but not Elrond. The elven lord had barely known his father, as Eärendil had spent so much of his sons' early years on the sea. Then, when Elrond and Elros were still children, Maedhros and Maglor and their men had attacked Sirion, searching out the Silmaril. Elwing had taken the jewel and leaped from a cliff to the waves below to keep it out of the hands of the sons of Fëanor. It was only due to the actions of Ulmo that she had not died among those waves, but rather took the form of a bird and escaped. That night was the last they ever saw their mother. In many ways, the children must have felt abandoned by their parents, that they had chosen duty over remaining with their children. As adults, Elrond and his brother could accept that their parents had sacrificed that which they loved most to save many more lives, but as children, it must have been very hard to understand.

After the loss of their parents, they were raised for a time by their captors, Maglor and Maedhros, and grew to love and respect Maglor, as he had come to love them. Their young lives had been torn apart by warfare and the slaying of elf by elf, all for a jewel, but they had grown to adulthood to become remarkable people, each in their own way. When they were given the choice to join the kindreds of men or elves after the War of Wrath, Elrond and Elros chose differently, leading to a pain that Elrond never truly recovered from. Elros had lived to the age of 500 as a king of men, longer than the life of any man before or since, but such a short time to an elf. Gil-Galad had once confided in Glorfindel that he had not been sure Elrond would survive the death of his twin. But, difficult as it had been, he had survived.

By the time Glorfindel returned from Valinor, re-imbodied, Elrond had already lost so many that he had loved. But whether he felt abandoned by them, Elrond never let it stop him from loving others. He had pledged his loyalty to the high king, Gil-Galad, and worked ceaselessly to aid him however he could. Gil-Galad had taken in the younger elf and treated him as a son, while Elrond felt for his king as he would a father. Elrond had become Gil-Galad's vice-regent, his herald, and a leader in his armies. He had received Vilya, the ring of Air from his king's hands, as his most trusted companion. Glorfindel had been by Elrond's side in the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, and had witnessed the devastation in Elrond's eyes when his king fell. That was a blow that Elrond did not recover from quickly. Even now, there was a shadow of sadness in his eyes whenever Gil-Galad's name was mentioned.

Though he was greatly saddened at the death of his king, Elrond still did not lose his ability to love. Glorfindel thought back to Elrond's wedding to Celebrían with a smile. He had known from the moment that Elrond and Celebrían met that they were perfectly suited for each other. He had been their staunchest supporter, urging them both not to let the events of the time come between them. Elrond was far too serious most of the time, taking the weight and concerns of all Arda upon his own shoulders. Celebrían had been able to lighten that burden and help him find the time to relax, to play and smile again. She was exactly what Elrond had needed, his greatest ally and best friend. Her attack and subsequent departure had nearly destroyed Elrond. For a long time, he withdrew into himself. The elf lord had been unable to comfort his sons or his daughter, to control the rage that his sons had exhibited, or to find a reason to convince Arwen to remain in Imladris.

The only reason that Elrond had not left with Celebrían to journey to Valinor was that he knew his duty to Arda was not yet finished. Though he did not know what part it was he must play, he knew that it was important for him to stay. That sense of duty held him here, but it did not bring him joy. After Celebrían's departure, he was a serious, unsmiling elf. He still worked to help and heal all who sought his aid, and he never failed to have a kind word for those who needed it, but the depth of sorrow and pain in him could be seen by all. Time worked to blunt the raw grief and helped him begin to interact more easily with those around him again, and he sought to repair the wounds that his family had been dealt.

When Arathorn was killed in battle against the orcs, Elrond had opened his home and his heart to the fatherless child. Even knowing that he would one day face the death of this mortal being, he took young Aragorn in and raised him as a son, loving him as much as he did his other children. It was Elrond's acceptance of the child and his mother that had led to the rest of his household accepting them as family. Thus, Estel grew up with a mother, a father, two brothers, and the love of the entire household.

And now… Glorfindel shook his head sadly. Elrond would lose not only his youngest son to mortality, but his daughter as well. Though the separation would cause him unimaginable pain, Elrond had given Aragorn his blessing to wed his daughter, with one stipulation only. Now that Aragorn was king, that stipulation had been met, and Arwen had gladly wed Aragorn. Glorfindel turned his attention once more to the group in the courtyard. Arwen sat beside Aragorn and she had easily joined in with the laughter and teasing. After all, they had been her brothers long before they had become Aragorn's. She was well able to hold her own with them. The look on Elrond's face as he watched her was not one of pain, but of joy. He would grieve their parting greatly, but for now, while he was with them, he would take pleasure in the obvious love and happiness between his daughter and foster son. The peredhel loved them both immensely and wanted only their happiness.

A smile crossed Glorfindel's face as he thought back to that moment, many centuries ago, when he had been given a choice. Mandos had given him a choice whether to consider his time in Arda finished and go on to Valinor, or to return to Middle-earth and continue serving the son of Eärendil, one he had died to protect. Glorfindel had not hesitated a moment before making his choice. His duty had been left unfinished in his opinion, and he had been glad to return and serve Elrond. Moments like this only made him more sure that his choice had been correct. It had been his greatest honor to serve Elrond. The Peredhel was one of the noblest and most selfless beings that Glorfindel had ever met, and it was his privilege to count Elrond as his friend.

While Elrond was counted among the wise and considered a master of healing and of lore, his greatest gift was his ability to love.

At that moment, Elrond looked up and saw Glorfindel in the shadows and waved him over to join them. Glorfindel nodded and left the shadows behind to join his family and friends in the sunlight.

OK, this is a bit of silliness, but I hope you get a laugh out of it. Please read and review.

Title: Out of a clear blue sky

Author: Misty

Rating: G

Summary: Aragorn finds a surprise in the clear blue sky. This was written for the Middle-earth Express prompt #57: Sky.

Disclaimer: I have no claim to the characters and make no money off of any of this.

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"There it is," Aragorn said, pointing toward the target.

"Where?" Elrohir asked. "I do not see a dragon, Estel."

Aragorn patiently pointed again, tracing the outlines of the massive beast. "There are his wings, tail and head. How can you not see him?"

Tilting his head and squinting his eyes, Elrohir studied the fluffy white cloud. "I still do not see a dragon. Perhaps a sparrow." He glanced sidelong at his human brother.

"A sparrow?" Aragorn asked, in mock outrage. "That much more resembles a fierce dragon than a little sparrow."

Elrohir laughed and gave a small shrug. "So you say."

Laughing softly, Aragorn turned his attention back to the sky above them. He had returned home several days ago for a brief respite from his duties, and today there were no duties to which he had to attend. He and Elrohir had taken a basket of food and gone to a favorite meadow to eat a peaceful meal in the beauty of the spring day. After consuming nearly everything in the basket, they had stretched out on the soft grass of the meadow to relax. Aragorn had begun pointing out shapes in the clouds above, a game he had played with his brothers in his youth. Elrohir had joined in readily.

For several minutes, they pointed out various shapes to each other, some more easily seen than others. Elrohir glanced around the meadow briefly before looking back up at the sky. "There is a frog," he said suddenly, pointing to a rather ambiguously shaped cloud.

Looking at the cloud in confusion, Aragorn glanced back at his brother. "Have you taken leave of your senses? That cloud in no way resembles a frog."

Giving him a small smirk, Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "I still contend I see a frog."

Shaking his head at his brother's obstinate nature, Aragorn turned his head back upwards. His eyes widened in stunned amazement as a frog came flying over his head to land squarely on his chest. Aragorn stared at the creature as it croaked and looked him in the eye before hopping off and across the meadow.

Hearing laughter beside him, Aragorn sat up and looked at Elrohir, who was rolling on the ground in his hilarity. Aragorn turned his head as he heard an echo of that laughter to find Elladan approaching them, wiping his hands on his tunic. Aragorn narrowed his eyes at his brothers as they both laughed at his reaction.

"You should have seen your face, Estel," Elrohir gasped out between bursts of laughter.

"It was quite amusing, you must admit," Elladan said, dropping to sit near them.

Their amusement was catching, and Aragorn finally allowed a smile to cross his face. "Perhaps you are correct," he said, grinning. "For a moment, I actually thought frogs were falling out of a clear blue sky."

His comment set both of his brothers laughing again, and Aragorn joined them. Taking revenge on them could wait for another day.

Title: The Hunt

Rating: G

Summary: Elladan and Elrohir take on a mission to hunt a fearsome creature.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or make any money from any of this.

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"How many have disappeared?" Glorfindel asked Aragorn.

"The exact number is uncertain," Aragorn answered, shaking his head and pacing back and forth as he spoke. "The Dúnedain have been hearing reports for months now, but I have had no men to spare to investigate the matter. Those reports have been rather confused, and we do not know truly what has happened."

"And you say people have seen a strange creature?" Elrohir asked seriously.

Nodding, Aragorn looked toward his brothers, who were the only others in the room. Elrond was in council and could not be disturbed. "Some say the creature had three heads, antlers and glowing red eyes."

Elladan looked at him quite skeptically. Aragorn raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I realize it sounds quite odd. I had never heard such a thing, either, but I have heard too many reports now to dismiss them. It may be some new deviltry concocted by Sauron to harass our people. Perhaps this creature originates in Mirkwood and it crossed the mountains. I do not know from whence it comes, Elladan, but it must be investigated."

Glorfindel stared hard at Aragorn. "And you say you cannot spare the men to investigate the matter? Will you not do this yourself?"

"There are other matters which have just come to my attention," Aragorn said in frustration. "The Dúnedain are spread too thin as it is. We simply do not have enough people to cover all the lands in which we are needed."

"We will go in your place," Elladan offered. "I do not know what we shall find, but if it will aid you, all you need do is ask."

A look of relief crossed Aragorn's face. "I thank you. It will help me greatly."

Once the decision was made, they spent another hour discussing the particulars of the mission and mapping out the week-long round trip.

At dawn the next morning, Glorfindel and Aragorn met the twins in the courtyard to see them off. The day was overcast and cool, promising rain in the near future. Knowing that they could not postpone such a vital mission due to rain, Elladan and Elrohir checked their weapons once more and nodded seriously to Aragorn and Glorfindel before turning their horses to leave the valley.

Aragorn watched his brothers until they had moved completely out of sight. Turning to Glorfindel, he grinned. "What do you think they will do when they discover that there is no such thing as a three-headed, horned creature devouring innocent people?"

Glorfindel shrugged easily, and gave Aragorn a lazy smile. "They will come back here, having had a long miserable trip to plan their revenge."

The grin on Aragorn's face slipped somewhat, then he shrugged. "Perhaps, but making them believe in such a creature will be worth it. I only wish I could see their expressions when they reach their destination." Glorfindel laughed in agreement, and they went back into the house out of the cold and the drizzle.

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After three days of traveling in miserable conditions, through the woods, always on the alert for enemy attack, Elladan and Elrohir finally reached the center of the area where the creature's activities had been reported. They spent the next three hours carefully examining the woods, and every stick and stone for sign of the creature.

A loud groan caught Elladan's attention and he looked over toward his brother, afraid that he had been injured somehow. Seeing Elrohir standing facing a tree, he frowned. His brother was not acting as if he were in pain.

"Elrohir?" he asked. "What is it?"

"I think I have found our creature," Elrohir said. His voice sounded strange to Elladan, somewhat strangled, as if he could not get the words out of his throat.

"Where?" Elladan asked, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword and moving swiftly to his brother's side.

Extending a hand, Elrohir pointed into the tree. There, tied to the trunk of the tree was a small cloth creature with three heads, sticks for antlers, and red buttons for eyes.

Elladan's eyes widened in shock, and he turned to stare at Elrohir. The younger twin was shaking, and Elladan at first did not know whether it was due to laughter or anger. His question was answered when a chuckle escaped Elrohir and he shook his head in amusement.

"We taught Estel too well, my brother."

A glare crossed Elladan's face. "I am glad you find this amusing. I, however, do not appreciate being sent out here for nothing."

With a smile still on his face, Elrohir stepped forward and cut the small cloth creature from the tree. His grin turned mischievous as he stared at his twin. "We have a few days ride back home before us. Perhaps we can decide upon the best way to return this little token to our so-loving younger brother?"

"And Glorfindel," Elladan said, a matching grin slowly crossing his face. "We cannot forget Glorfindel."

If Aragorn and Glorfindel had been there to witness the unholy glee in the faces of the twins, they would have shuddered at the thought of what they had just unleashed.

A/N: This story was written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt #58. I didn't want to mention the prompt at the beginning, or it would spoil the punch line. :) Sorry, I don't plan to make this a continuing series. I'm not really all that great at thinking up pranks, so this is likely the end of this little story.

Title: Brothers

Author: Misty

Summary: Halbarad and Aragorn discuss Aragorn's childhood. This was written for two of the Middle-earth Express prompts: Numbers 62 and 63, Celebration and Siblings. This fic was also largely inspired by a discussion on the OAA list regarding the nature of the twin sons of Elrond, and the roles of Gilraen and Elrond in Aragorn's life. This is sort of my view of the family dynamics of Aragorn's young life. This went quite a bit longer than the expected 500 words, however.

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, sadly enough. I don't make money from any of this, and don't claim to be Tolkien, as if that weren't eminently obvious.

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Halbarad sat back in his chair and let his gaze roam the room. It was full of laughing, cheerful, Dúnedain celebrating the day of birth of their newly returned young Chieftain. Aragorn sat across the table from Halbarad, working through a plate overflowing with food. Childish laughter rang out through the hall, and Aragorn turned with a fond smile to watch as a group of children exclaimed over their games in the corner. A question came to Halbarad's mind as he watched his new Chieftain.

"Were you lonely?" he blurted out the question before he had a chance to think about it.

Startled by the question, Aragorn turned to face the ranger he had known less than a year. "Lonely?" he asked in confusion, not sure what Halbarad meant by his question.

A flush crept over Halbarad's face as he looked away from Aragorn. "Forgive me, it was an impertinent question."

Aragorn waved his hand as if to brush away the apology. "To what do you refer? Was I lonely when?"

Looking as if he were sorry he had started the conversation, Halbarad finished his earlier thought. "In Imladris. You and your mother were the only humans living in a realm of elves. There were no children to play with, no others of your kind, no family. Were you lonely there?"

Shaking his head slightly, Aragorn sat back in his chair. "No, I was never lonely, Halbarad. I had a mother, a father, and my brothers, along with many others in Imladris. I was never alone, you see. My life may not have been the one that my parents intended, nor one like any other of the Dúnedain, but it has been a good life. You need not fear that I regret a moment of my childhood."

"You call the sons of Elrond your brothers?" Halbarad asked curiously, leaning forward on the table. He had heard his Chieftain refer to Elrond as his father and Elladan and Elrohir as his brothers, but had never mustered the courage to ask more. "Though I have not met them, I have heard tales of them. They seem quite…intimidating."

A low chuckle escaped Aragorn's throat. "In battle and on patrols, yes, they can be quite intimidating. At home, however, they are quite different."

"How so?" Halbarad asked. He was surprised that Aragorn was being so forthcoming about his family, but wished to take advantage of his openness and find out more about this young man who now led them. It was unusual for him to speak so freely about his childhood, as many of the Dúnedain were uncomfortable with the fact that he had been hidden away and raised among the elves and not his own people.

A smile touched the ranger's lips as he thought about his brothers. "You were correct when you said that there were no children in Imladris other than myself. I had no one my age with which I could play. It was my brothers who became my playmates. They had an infinite patience with my never-ending questions, would sit on the floor and play with me, and were fiercely protective of me. Elladan and Elrohir taught me to swim, ride a horse, and wield a blade and bow. Along with teaching me the skills I would need as a ranger, they taught me to enjoy my life and treasure my family. I never felt scared or unsure of myself when they were near, as I knew they would keep me safe. The warrior side of them, the side you have heard of, I did not even know existed when I was young. They were only my brothers, who loved me. Later, when they began training me, I saw their skills as warriors, and was awed by it. It was ever my goal to become as proficient as they." A wry grin crossed his face. "I fear that is still a goal for me to pursue, one I may never achieve."

He sighed as he sobered and stared at Halbarad. "Once I began riding on patrols with them, I saw that other side of them, the side that is ever alert, ever wary, always watching for orcs or other evils lurking nearby. On patrol, they rarely laugh, though they usually have a smile or a comforting word for me if needed. In battle against the orcs, I nearly do not recognize them as the loving brothers I have known. They are deadly then, seeking to destroy any evil before it can touch another innocent, another loved one." Shaking his head, he gazed across the room, not truly seeing his surroundings.

"My lord?" Halbarad asked, as the silence stretched out into minutes.

Coming back to himself, Aragorn gave the other ranger a rueful smile. "Forgive me, I was merely lost in my memories. I do hope you can meet my brothers some day and see them the way I have always known them. If you could see them when they are not on patrol, when they are not in battle, you might be quite surprised."

"I would enjoy meeting your brothers," Halbarad said softly. While his Chieftain was being so forthcoming, Halbarad chanced another question. "What does your mother think of the elves being your family? You spoke of Lord Elrond as your father." Unspoken was the question that Aragorn had seen in the eyes of several of the older Dúnedain. Was Aragorn disloyal to Arathorn by calling Elrond his father?

Silence fell between them for a moment as Aragorn tried to decide how to respond to the question. Staring down at the plate of food, he slowly pushed it aside. "I do not remember Arathorn," he finally started speaking. "He was home so seldom when he was alive, and I was too young to have any firm memories of him. You know well what the life of the Dúnedain is like. He was out on patrol so often that even my earliest memories only truly include my mother. When we were brought to Imladris, I was old enough to know that things had changed, but not old enough to understand that I had lost a father. When I was growing up, I heard the twins refer to Elrond as 'Adar', and soon was referring to him the same way. I imagine that it did hurt my mother the first time she heard it, but she never asked me to stop. She encouraged my relationship with Elrond, who truly did become as my father, as well as my relationship with my brothers. If she felt resentment toward them, or toward the situation, I never saw it. I was raised in a home where I was surrounded by those I loved. I had my naneth, my adar, and my brothers." A grin quirked his lips. "As well as Glorfindel, Erestor, and many other elves whom had a hand in raising me. I had a happy childhood, Halbarad, surrounded by family. That is more than many will ever have. Though I wonder what my life would have been like if Arathorn had not been killed, and I wish I had been given a chance to know him, I cannot regret what my life has been."

"Does your mother plan to return to live among the Dúnedain?" Halbarad asked curiously. "Now that you have returned as well?"

"I have heard no plans for her to leave Imladris," Aragorn said slowly. "It has been her home for nineteen years now, and I still consider it my home. I do plan to return as often as I may to visit her and the rest of my family. Perhaps she chooses to stay for my sake, or perhaps she has too many memories of Arathorn among the Dúnedain. I have not asked."

Noticing that Aragorn's expression had grown shadowed, Halbarad began to apologize for introducing such a serious conversation on such a happy occasion. Before he could speak the words, there was a commotion near the door, and Aragorn and Halbarad glanced over to see the cause.

Hearing a familiar voice, Aragorn sprang from his seat and made his way quickly to the doorway. Halbarad followed him, wondering what was happening. As he approached the cluster of people, the crowd cleared enough for Halbarad to see two tall dark-haired elves, identical of face. His eyebrows rose in surprise. These had to be the twin sons of Elrond, the brothers they had just been talking about.

"What are you doing here?" Aragorn asked Elladan after greeting them both. Holding Elladan's arm, he glanced back and forth between his brothers.

Elladan smiled at Aragorn as Elrohir reached out to clasp the human's shoulder. "This is the day of your birth, is it not? We are here to celebrate with our little brother. Are we welcome?" His voice was questioning as he glanced around at the many curious faces staring at them.

"Always," Aragorn said, nodding his head toward the interior of the building. "Come, I have someone I want you to meet." They nodded to those they knew as he led them to stand before Halbarad. "Halbarad, my friend. These are my brothers, Elladan and Elrohir." Aragorn gestured to them in turn.

"I am quite pleased to meet you, my lords," Halbarad said, bowing his head toward them nervously. He had not expected to meet these brothers of his lord so soon, and was not sure what to say to them. He was reassured by the smile that they bestowed upon him, and Halbarad realized he was truly meeting the brothers of Aragorn, not the twin warriors who often rode with the Dúnedain. His nervousness fled as he remembered Aragorn's words. "It is my honor to meet the brothers of my Chieftain," he said firmly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the approving look Aragorn gave him at his words.

"No, it is our honor to meet his friend," Elladan said, bowing his head toward the ranger.

After the initial greetings were finished, Aragorn gestured toward the table with his hand, leading Halbarad and the twins back over to the more secluded corner of the room. Even as they approached the table, people were laying two new plates of food down for the newcomers. Aragorn nodded his thanks as they sat down. Gesturing toward the food, Aragorn addressed his brothers. "You must be hungry after your journey. Please enjoy the hospitality of the Dúnedain."

A grin crossed Elrohir's face as he began to eat. "Thank you, Estel. This is quite the gathering. You seem to be well loved by your people."

"As I was at home," Aragorn said seriously, surprising his brothers. At the look on their faces, Aragorn added, "I have missed you both, as well as Adar and Naneth."

Reaching across the table, Elladan placed his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "As we have missed you, my brother." After a nod of acknowledgment, Elladan returned his attention to the food on his plate.

Sensing the serious moment had passed, Halbarad asked a question that he had not thought to have the chance to ask. "You have known Aragorn most of his life. Do you have any tales of his youth that you would be willing to share?"

A mischievous twinkle came into the eyes of both twins, and Elrohir leaned back in his chair. "I believe we do have a few tales, yes."

Halbarad's face lit up as Aragorn groaned good-naturedly. He leaned forward to hear what would surely be an amusing tale.

Aragorn sat back in his seat and watched with a fond smile on his face as the twins told Halbarad amusing anecdotes from his childhood. This was turning out to be a much better birthday than he had expected, surrounded by his family, both old and new, to share in his celebration.

Title: The essentials of life

Rating: G

Summary: Elrond has to deal with a bored child on a hot summer's day. Written as a birthday gift from me to everyone else on my birthday following the customs of the hobbits. This story was inspired by the Middle-earth Express challenge #72: Life. This story is also dedicated to all those parents out there whose children are on summer vacation. Good luck. lol

Disclaimers: They're not mine, I don't make any money from this.

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"Ada, I'm bored."

Elrond glanced over at the child reclining on a sofa across the room from the desk where he was trying to write several letters. Estel was lying on his back with one leg draped over the arm of the chair, foot idly swinging back and forth. "Why do you not go outside and play, then? Go climb a tree or drag your brothers to the practice field."

Barely turning his head to glance at his father, Estel sighed heavily. "It's too hot outside. I'll roast. Do you want me to roast?"

The question was asked in a plaintive tone of voice, but contained a distinct whine to it that was beginning to grate on the lord of Imladris' nerves. The child had been lying in his office for the last hour, complaining that he had nothing to do. "Then you can read a book, or work on your lessons," Elrond suggested, well aware of what response that suggestion would garner.

Sure enough, he heard the same response as the last three times he had made the same suggestion. "I don't want to read. It's too hot to think."

Sighing, Elrond was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes in his exasperation, a distinctly un-elven motion showing how frustrated he was becoming with his youngest son. "Please go find your brothers and have them help you find something to do. I am busy, Estel, and I need to get these letters written today."

Giving his father a hurt look, Estel swung his leg off of the arm of the chair, stood and slowly shuffled out of his father's office. Elrond shook his head and tried not to feel guilty about chasing the eight-year-old out of the room. But he could not get his work done if the bored child was constantly interrupting him. Settling down to his work, he soon lost himself in the routine of his paperwork. He glanced up in exasperation when he heard the knock on his door a mere half-hour later. "What is it now?" he asked, looking up to see Elladan, not Estel standing in the doorway. Waving a dismissive hand at the look on his son's face, Elrond gestured for the elder twin to join him. "Forgive me, Elladan. I was expecting Estel with another litany of complaints about being bored."

"It is out of concern for Estel that I am here," Elladan said, stepping into the room.

"Has something happened?" Elrond asked, standing abruptly and moving toward the door. "Is he well?"

"Nothing has happened, but I fear he may not be well," Elladan answered his father, looking worriedly back over his shoulder. "He is flushed and sweating, seems listless, almost wilted, and nothing will hold his interest. He has been complaining since the moment he found Elrohir and I, and that is not normal for him."

Elrond's brow furrowed as he thought about Elladan's concerns. He had been annoyed enough with the child that he had not stopped to consider how out of character his actions were. Looking out at the summer day, with the sun shining brightly down, Elrond realized what the problem might be. "It is unusually hot today, is it not?"

A shrug was Elladan's response. "I had not noticed."

"I fear we sometimes forget how strongly your brother is affected by extremes of either heat or cold. It does not always occur to us, as elves, that his moods can be affected by the weather in such a way." Standing still for a moment, Elrond gazed out the window and then came to a decision. "Gather your brothers and meet me on the front steps. I think I know how to remedy this."

Elladan gave his father a quizzical look, then moved to do as asked. Elrond moved through the house, gathering a few things and placing them in a basket, then met his sons in front of the house.

"Where are we going, Ada?" Estel asked as he trudged along behind the others, his pace slow in the heat. "I thought you had work to do."

"It can wait," Elrond said, leading them through the valley to a secluded grove. Pushing the branches of a low-hanging tree aside, Elrond revealed their destination to the others, a large clear pond. The water was clear enough to see to the bottom of the pond, to the smooth pebbles lining the floor. A small waterfall entered the pool from the north, providing fresh, cool water from the mountains, and a stream exited in the south. Turning his gaze away from the water, Elrond watched as Estel's face lit up. It was only a matter of moments for the child to shed his outer clothes, then take a running leap into the cool water. Elrohir gave them a wide grin and then shed his clothing as well, following his little brother into the water with a yell.

Giving his father a grin, Elladan gestured toward the two frolicking in the water. "This was a very good idea, Ada. You certainly brought him back to life." Elladan began removing his own clothes, preparing to join in the fun.

"It was your comment about Estel seeming wilted that made me think of this," Elrond admitted. "Sometimes, children are much like plants. To keep one happy, they need to be watered every now and then."

Laughing at the twinkle in his father's eye, Elladan turned and jumped into the water, causing a great wave to splash his brothers.

Title: A Perfect World

Author: Misty

Rating: G

Summary: Aragorn imagines his perfect world. This story was written for the Middle-earth Express prompts #73: Garden and #74: Wish. I had the idea for the first prompt, but it fit the second one even better, so it's a combined prompt. And while this story is not a songfic, it was inspired by the song "If everyone cared" by Nickelback.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tolkien. I have no claim to them.

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Taking a deep breath, Aragorn inhaled the scent of honeysuckle, roses, and a myriad of other flowers floating on the gentle night breeze. Glancing up, he saw stars twinkling down on him, stretching as far as the eye could see like diamonds upon the velvet background of the sky. As a gentle gust sent strands of dark hair dancing across his face, Aragorn reached a hand up and brushed the hair tenderly back behind the ear of the one to which it belonged. Arwen turned to him with a smile from where she lay in the crook of his arm. Her hand touched his as he lightly traced her cheek with his fingers. She turned his hand over and entwined her fingers with his, staring deeply into his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the intensity of her love in those mysterious grey depths.

"Is this a dream?" Aragorn asked her softly, still amazed that she returned his love. It seemed unbelievable to him that this princess among the elves could love a mortal man such as he. That she had pledged herself to him still struck him dumb every time he thought upon it. "This cannot be real, can it?" He glanced around as if to check for himself that he was not dreaming. His gaze swept over the secluded corner of Lady Galadriel's private garden where they now lay upon the grass, enjoying the clear summer night. A smile crossed his face as he watched the fireflies lighting up the darkness around them, echoing the twinkle of the stars all about them.

"This is no dream, my love," Arwen's voice whispered into the dark. She brought their joined hands up and softly pressed her lips to the back of his hand.

Aragorn tightened his arm around her shoulders. "I wish this night could last forever. There could be no other place as perfect as this."

A serious look came into Arwen's eyes, chasing away the dewy, romantic gleam that had been there moments before. "I also wish the world could be such a perfect place as this garden, but it is not so, not yet. There is a great deal still to be done before that can come to pass, and you have a large part yet to play."

Unable to hold her gaze, Aragorn averted his eyes back toward the stars above. "I do not know if that is a task I will be able to fulfill. Arda is full of such evil and malice, and not only from Sauron's creatures. Even within the hearts of men lurk hatred, pride, and deceit. How will we be able to create a world of peace when we have so much to overcome?"

Arwen reached her free hand over and turned Aragorn's face toward her. "It will not be an easy road, or a short one. But you will overcome all obstacles in your path, Aragorn. As long as you hold true to yourself, there is no challenge you will not be able to conquer. Do not let despair hold sway over you. As you journey the paths your life will take you down, remember tonight. Hold to us, to the love we share. You will show the world how it can be a better place, how love can overcome hate, caring and compassion can overcome pride, and the truth will always triumph over deceit. You will help build a world of peace, Aragorn, and I will be at your side as you do, helping you to do so."

Staring deeply into her eyes for a long moment, Aragorn saw the confidence in her eyes, the surety that they would prevail, and evil would be vanquished. Smiling down upon her, he raised himself up on his elbow to lean over her. "With you at my side, I believe we can create the perfect world." All doubts were vanquished for the moment as he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss to seal their vows to fight for a world free of war and strife.

Title: In Dreams

Rating: G

Summary: Arwen watches over the man she loves. This was written for the ME Express Prompt #77: Watch.

Disclaimers: I'm not Tolkien, I have no claims on any of the characters used here.

Thanks to Padawanar for the title. I always have such a hard time coming up with good titles. And thanks to Wimsey for the beta read.

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'…Arwen remained in Rivendell, and when Aragorn was abroad, from afar she watched over him in thought…'

Appendix A: The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen.

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Arwen lay upon her bed, barely noticing the gentle breeze blowing through the window or the scent of the rosebushes nearby. Her mind was blind to her surroundings, stretched out into the wild, seeking the one she loved. It took only a moment of searching before she felt his presence in her mind. A frown crossed her face as she felt the pain and exhaustion emanating from him. Delving deeper into his mind, she saw flashes of battle, orcs on every side. Her heart raced and her fists clenched at her sides as she lay in her room, helpless to assist him. A gasp escaped her throat as she felt a fiery pain in her leg. She sat up abruptly, reaching down to clutch at her leg, only to realize the pain had vanished as her connection to Aragorn shattered. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and prayed with all her heart that Aragorn would prevail in his battle, that he would return to her, whole and healthy.

Rising, she walked briskly to her balcony, stopping only when she could grasp the railing in her hands and look out over the valley, though her eyes saw naught of its beauty. Her heart was heavy with worry for Aragorn. She longed to be at his side, to fight beside him, to protect him. Ever had she been left behind, worry filling her heart as she watched Aragorn ride off, never knowing if it would be the last time she saw him.

Using her ability to watch over him from afar, she supported him as best she could and encouraged him in his dreams. At times like this, knowing he was fighting for his very life, it did not seem nearly enough. Glancing down, she saw that her hands were clenched so tightly around the railing that her knuckles were white from the strain. Loosening her grip, she released the railing and stepped away, beginning to pace slowly back and forth down the length of the balcony, her dress sweeping the stone and creating a hushed whisper in her ears. The sound barely registered, drowned out by the pounding of her heart. It took all her concentration to calm her mind and body once again. Only when she was calm would she be able to reach out to Aragorn again.

Sinking down upon the chaise near one wall, she closed her eyes and clasped her hands loosely in her lap, quieting her thoughts. Reaching out once more, she brushed against Aragorn's mind, and felt a wave of relief rush through her. He was alive! The sensations she felt now were not those associated with battle, but with the aftermath. There was pain and exhaustion, yes, but also relief, concern for his men, and satisfaction that the battle was won. Releasing the connection, she slumped back against the cushions. He was alive, that was enough for now. She would wait until he slept, then bring him into the world only they shared. In dreams, they could speak and touch; she could reassure herself that he was well, bring comfort to him and ease his pain. If dreams were all they had, she would make the best of them.