Written for Back to Middle Earth Month Day 5.

Gilraen stared into the fire. The truth was just beginning to set in. In the rush of getting herself and Aragorn here, she hadn't really thought about it much. Arathorn was dead, and her people left without a Chieftain. And she was left without a husband. She was glad her father had counselled them to wed early. For a short time, she had tasted true love. She would not marry again.

Master Elrond and his household had shown her every courtesy. She had everything she needed. She was surrounded by beauty and tranquility. But she was alone. The elves were kind, but they were not her people. They did not understand the joys and brutalities that came with being Mortal.

She had no idea when she would see her family and friends again. Her little nephew Halbarad probably wouldn't even know her the next time she saw him. Even her own son was to be bereft of his heritage and made to forget his father, and even his real name. Her poor Aragorn! He would grow up without any playmates his own age. She hoped the elves knew how to deal with small children. Most of Aragorn's ancestors had been older when they had come here for fostering.

"Nana!" Aragorn, or rather, Estel, came running in and jumped into her lap. The sons of Elrond looked in from the doorway, smiling indulgently at the little one.

Gilraen looked at her son and smiled.