Outside the haven of Imladris, the dark foreboding storm clouds that had been gathering in the sky all day finally gave way with a rumbling thunderclap, and the rain began to pound down. Lightning flashed brilliantly, casting shadows and momentarily lighting the path before plunging everything back into a thick darkness.

Estel grimaced, sniffling; his cloak was heavy and sodden with the rain. His eyes were sore from crying, and he wanted his mother. Rebelliously the boy's stomach growled, and he thought wistfully of the delicious meal that was probably being served at this very moment. He regretted his decision to leave, but he could not stay and face Elrond's disappointment. Childish pride refused to let him turn around. Ruefully Estel waved his hand in front of his face, knowing it was there but unable to see it.

The bronze rings jangled as he trudged along. Because they'd been a gift from Elladan, Estel had been unable to force himself to leave them behind. Small fingers touched them for comfort, wishing that the twins were there to keep him company.

The road was fast being turned into mud; his feet made a sickly sucking noise with each step that he took. An incautious step sent the boy flying, and he landed painfully, twisting his shoulder under his body. More tears stung his eyes, and he bit his lip to hold them back.

Estel had not ventured outside the safety of Imladris since his mother had moved them there shortly after his second birthday, which he had no memory of. Had he known how large Middle-earth truly was, he very well may have stayed in the familiarity of Imladris despite his shame. As it was, he made his miserable way along, humming a simple Elvish tune and practicing the blocking techniques that Elrohir had taught him, imagining his wooden practice sword was in his hand, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

When the rain picked up in intensity, running in rivulets down his cheeks, Estel ducked beneath the thick overlapping branches of an ancient evergreen, small body shaking with cold. There was reasonable shelter here, and the ground was damp but not soggy. His chin quivered a little as he curled his small body against the tree trunk between two upraised roots. Alone and chilled, he fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming that Elrond appeared and took him home.

His song was interrupted when something sneezed. Surprised, his eyes went to the side of the road, where he'd heard the sound.

"What is this?" muttered the man, chewing on the end of his pipe. He clicked to his mount, and she obediently halted, lowering her head to crop the dewy grass on the side of the road. Her master swung himself out of the saddle and hunkered down, removing his pointed hat so that he could crawl under the barricading branches of a tall fir. A small, dark-haired figure was revealed, sleeping fitfully and shaking with cold.

Concerned, the bearded man shuffled closer and touched a hand to the young one's forehead. It was hot to the touch. Gandalf rocked back on his haunches, brushing the needles above his head and causing water to patter down from the tree branches in the rain's aftermath.

Gathering the boy into his arms as best that he could, Galdalf awkwardly left the cover of the tree and stood. Looking down at the flushed face, he realized with a start that this was Isildur's heir! A frown formed on his weathered face, and he puffed angrily on his unlit pipe. He would have words with Elrond, that was certain.

The Maia whistled softly between his teeth, and his horse trotted back from where she had wandered, reins dangling in the wet grass. As gently as he could Mithrandir lifted his charge up and set him in front of the saddle. Estel muttered but did not wake. When Gandalf gained his own seat, the child leaned back into his warmth, shivering uncontrollably. Moved with pity, the wizard yanked a dry cloak from his saddle bag and wrapped it around Estel. His horse started forward again when he nudged it with his heels while thinking of all the things he was wanted to tell a certain Elf lord.

"You know all of my secrets, Belethil,"Elrond complained, though the light in his eyes betrayed the indignation in his voice. Herding the boys away from the bowl of fruit they attempted to raid, she blew him a kiss.

"Would you have it any other way?" she wanted to know.

"Never," he responded, swooping down to catch an Elf-child under each arm. They laughed happily; neither had spoken yet, though they gurgled and babbled to one another in their own secret language. Growling playfully, Elrond blew a raspberry on Elladan's stomach. Elrohir squealed and pointed to his own tummy, demanding that he not be left out. Celebrian took the toddler into her arms and tickled him.

"Atar,"Elrohir said plainly, pointing to Elrond. Elladan looked up at his with curious gray eyes.

"Atar?"he questioned, looking to his brother for confirmation. Wisely the tyke nodded. Over their heads, Elrond and Celebrian were staring at one another, laughing incredulously.

[Atar = father

The lyrics in Gandalf's song are probably very familiar to you, and obviously not something that I created, so don't go around saying I did. Aight?]