-The Curse of Angmar-

By: Cassia and Siobhan

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Rating: PG-13

 

Feedback:
cassia_a@hotmail.com and siobhancl2@aol.com

Spoilers:
Maybe little ones for previous stories in our series and other LOTR stuff possibly.

 

Disclaimer: 
We own nothing of Middle Earth or any of Tolkien’s worlds or characters. Everything recognizable belongs to JRR Tolkien; anything else belongs to us. We have no permission to use these characters and are receiving no money for this story. This story was written for enjoyment only.  Please do not use our original characters or situations without asking first.  Thank you. 

 

 

Summary:
Aragorn and Legolas wanted only to rest and heal after their harrowing experiences in the south.  But fate has other plans.  Evil has always haunted the Barrow Downs near the Shire, but now strange things have begun happening and many are saying that the wights have awoken to haunt the countryside.  Aragorn and Legolas, along with Aragorn’s brothers and fellow rangers, must ascertain the truth of what is going on, but will what they find be more than they can deal with? 

 

Series:
Yes, part of the Mellon Chronicles Universe. :o)

Other stories in the series are:
Captive of Darkness
Hope
Father’s Love
Never Alone
First Meetings
Change of Heart, Change of Mind
Exile
Return
Mistaken Identity
Vilya
Black Breath
Sickness
The Seventh Stone
Betrayal
Legolas’ No Good, Rotten Day
Priceless Treasure
The Stars of Harad
Dark Visions
Traitor
&
Escape from Mordor

Also part of this series and already written, but chronologically taking place after this story:

And So The End

 

This story will make more sense if you have read those first, although if you want to be adventurous and give it a whirl by itself, go right ahead!

 

 

Warnings:
The usual. 
Some character owies,
general reader health warnings, etc.

 

 

Language Note: 
We use two different forms of the elvish word for ‘brother’ in this story.  Muindor which simply means brother, and Gwador which implies a sworn-associates as-close-as-brothers kind of relationship not bound by actual familial ties. 

 

 

Additional Disclaimers:

Aragorn + Elrond + Elladan + Elrohir = family.  :o)
By now you all know our take on this I am sure - in our world birth mother and father *both* died and the elves were Estel’s only family.

 

Just so you know, our ideas on the Barrow Downs, wights, etc. may be different than yours, although we have tried to stick as closely to the book interpretation as possible.  However there isn’t much there, leaving a lot left to be filled in by the imagination, so if you disagree, please accept that this is simply our version of it and don’t flame us for it.  Thanks!

We have quite a large cast of secondary characters in this story (although I begin to think that the Twins are almost a little above normal supporting cast status by now) and even a rather prominent OC or two, which is mildly unusual for our stories.  However, we have still kept the focus more or less on Aragorn and Legolas, since of course they are our favorites and the point of this whole series!  So don’t’ worry.  :o) 
 

      Any spelling, date, cannon or character errors are the fault of the authors only and are completely by accident.  We are not an expert on Middle Earth and have never claimed to be.  So please forgive any omissions that you might find.  Likewise, please forgive the inevitable typos, spelling errors, etc. and enjoy the story anyway.
ALSO we do occasionally have names turn up that start with a J.  I realize that there are few to none of those in LOTR but hey, consider it a translation fluke, ‘kay?  It’s not really a big deal. :o) 

And on to the story! :o)

 

 

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-Curse of Angmar-

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART ONE*~

 

 

 

Their footsteps could barely be heard as they crept through the large house nestled deep in the beautiful valley of Imladris.  Sneaking up the elegant stairway and quietly entering the room at the end of the hallway, Lord Elrond’s twin sons silently approached the bed that held their younger human brother, Estel.

 

The ranger had returned the previous day and the twins had not yet had the opportunity to see him as they had only just returned from a quick trip through the mountains themselves.

 

The human lay on his stomach, his face turned to the far wall.  The sheets fell in folds off the bed, wrapped about his waist, exposing the top of his sleeping breeches.  One arm lay under his head beneath the pillows that cushioned him and the other dangled off the mattress. 

 

The man had filled out since they had last seen him.  He had grown up.  His shoulders and back were broad and muscular and his facial hair, albeit scraggly in comparison to others, had grown as well.  Shoulder length wavy tangles of dark hair, coated with the warm glow of early morning light, fell across his face as he breathed deeply in sleep.

 

Feigned sleep.

 

His senses, having been battle-heightened over the many years of war he had seen, were alert and although the man had not completely woken, every fiber in his body tensed, bringing his awareness slowly to the surface. 

 

Elladan barely knelt on the bed; it gave way easily beneath him with a soft squeak.  The elf leaned towards the ranger, a devilish smile on his face; it had been a long time since he had been able to surprise his youngest brother.

 

Instantly awake and on the defensive, Estel twisted in the bed sheets, recoiling from the presence he had felt.  Automatically his hand wrapped around the hilt of the elven blade he had placed beneath his pillow out of habit sometime in the pre-dawn after his father had left his room.  He slept better with it near at hand lately and putting it there had been an almost unconscious reflex. 

 

Bringing the weapon up with lightning fast speed, Estel pressed the sharp edge of the knife against his perceived attacker’s throat.  His left hand wrapped in the dark hair of the elf that knelt next to him, holding Elladan still against the steel razor and pressing forward threateningly.

 

The elf froze; breathing carefully as the blade scraped dangerously against his jugular.  His eyes wide, Elladan slowly raised his hands, taking note that the human who held him so precariously was not quite awake or aware yet.  His younger brother’s attack had simply been an automatic response to a perceived threat.  It was an action that neither twin was prepared for however; the ranger had never raised his weapons against them before save in jest or to spar... this was neither.

 

“Estel?”  Elladan spoke his name softly, causing Aragorn to blink several times as he took in his surroundings.  He was not on the banks of Pelargir nor the blood-soaked plains of South Gondor, the attacker before him was not a Haradrim or Corsair, it was an elf with oddly familiar eyes...

 

“Elladan?”

 

Aragorn loosened his hold at once, releasing his brother and allowing Elladan to press him back against the pillows while Elrohir slipped the blade from the human’s hand.  Aragorn breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and holding his breath as his heart pounded wildly in his chest, trying to absorb the adrenaline that had shot through his system.

 

The ranger sighed softly and stared up into the blue eyes that scrutinized him.  Estel didn’t move when Elladan pinned him to the bed, his hands on the younger human’s shoulders as he leaned over the man.  His nearly disastrous reaction to his elven brother frightened Aragorn; he hadn’t heard the twins enter his room and had forgotten that he had slipped his knife under his pillow before he had fallen completely asleep.  The reaction surprised him as much as it did the twins and so he simply lay on the bed, catching his breath.  If he had pressed against the blade even a little too hard... Aragorn shuddered slightly.  The wars he had lived through these past years had marked him too much; he had a great deal to unlearn.

 

It had been many years since the twins had seen their brother and the visible changes in the human both intrigued them and saddened them as well.  The emotions were foreign and strange.  Aragorn knew there would need to be a time of adjustment.  Things weren’t as they always had been and Elladan’s keen senses picked that up immediately.

 

“We heard you had returned.  You have... changed, little brother.”  Elladan whispered softly.  It wasn’t just his outward appearance or actions; they could see the age in his eyes, more so even than his years.  Because elves aged so slowly after reaching maturity, it was almost as if their little brother had grown up to be older than them.  It was strange to the twins, unsettling. 

 

Changed.  An understatement, Aragorn thought sarcastically, but he simply nodded.  There was nothing else to be said, it was true.  He tried to explain himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I wasn’t awake... I...  It was an automatic response; I thought you were an enemy.”

 

Gently placing the sharp elven blade on the dresser, Elrohir sat on the edge of the bed, watching his brothers.  Deep in his heart he knew Estel was different... older, and he could feel the weight the human carried in his own heart.  He smiled softly as the ranger’s silver eyes turned to gaze briefly at the dark haired elf.  Although things had changed, he for one was very glad that Estel had returned to them, the years since they had last seen the ranger had been long indeed, even in a timeless place such as Rivendell.  After all, life was full of changes; they didn’t have to be bad.  Estel would always be their little brother in their hearts, no matter what happened. 

 

When Aragorn glanced back at his older brother he noticed the frown that creased Elladan’s forehead.  The elf was staring at the scar that marred the man’s lip.  Self-consciously Estel covered the blemish with the fingers of his right hand, dropping his gaze from the twins.  His slight beard and mustache concealed the worst of the scar but it still bothered him.

 

Elrohir caught the ranger’s wrist and gently pulled Aragorn’s hand away.

 

“What happened?”  He asked softly.

 

Moving out of his brother’s grip Estel scooted back against the pillows behind him and sat up in the bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and fingering the mark.

 

“It was a war wound, from a fight with a Haradrim.  They are fierce warriors.”  He glanced at Elladan as he spoke, “But he did not return home and I did.”

 

Elladan nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Well you know, they say that women find battle scars very attractive.”  The elf looked quickly at his twin who matched his smile.

 

Shaking his head, Aragorn rolled his eyes, “Leave it to you to find something positive about it.”  He scooted over as Elladan seated himself on the edge of the bed across from Elrohir.

 

“Tell us of it?”  Elrohir asked cautiously.

 

“Of what?”

 

“The war, your time with men, all of it.”  Elladan finished the thought his twin had started, eager to hear how their brother had fared.  Little word had been sent through the years as carriers often fell prey to the ravages of war, bandits in the hills, or worse.

 

“Not yet.”  Aragorn glanced from one twin to the other, “Please, let me leave it for a while. I only wish to be Estel.  There are some things I *need* to forget.”  Deep weariness marked the gaze he laid on the elves and they immediately withdrew from their questioning.

 

Gently touching Estel’s shoulder, Elrohir apologized, “We meant no harm Estel.  If it is painful it is best left until you are ready.”

 

Aragorn smiled softly, his hands busy worrying the edges of the blanket that he had pulled up to his chest, a habit he had never broken himself of, “It is... I am weary of it.  The world men of has taught me many things, some good, but much of which I wish to forget.”

 

“I see it has also taught you to sleep with your blade under your pillow.”  Elladan eyed the weapon that rested on the nightstand, his tone taunting as he deftly changed the subject, not wishing to make his younger brother any more uncomfortable than they already had.

 

“Oh that.” Estel laughed quietly, “Yes, I got used to sleeping with that in my hand.  I slipped it under my pillow out of habit last night after father left me.  Please forgive me Elladan, that is one routine I will need to break.”

 

“*Before* you kill someone would be nice.”  Elrohir chided playfully.

 

“Oh and you think you didn’t deserve it!?”  Aragorn glanced from one twin to the other, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion, trying to hide his smile.  “You think I don’t know that you were trying to scare me?”  He laughed as the twins affected an air of shocked innocence.  “Probably had in mind to drag me out of bed and play one of your tricks on me didn’t you now?  Well they won’t work anymore.”

 

Elladan sobered immediately.  He knew that Estel was teasing them but he could also feel that the human spoke the truth.  Aragorn’s age of innocence was gone and the little brother that they had known had finally, truly grown up.  The older twin looked quickly away, trying to hide the sadness his thoughts had suddenly evoked.  He knew it was natural, but could not help the bitter-sweet feelings of one who has watched someone grow from infancy. 

 

Aragorn however was not fooled and leaned forward, tipping Elladan’s chin up, forcing the elf to look at him.  It was a tiny action that the elven twins had done a thousand times with their younger brother and now the roles were reversed.  “What is it?  What have I said?”

 

“You are not the young Estel that we remember.” Elrohir whispered softly, his voice uncertain as he spoke the words.  They knew.  They knew their brother was human, they knew with their heads it would be this way, but their hearts still had trouble grasping the fact that their young Estel had become a man, a battle-weary man whose cares hung heavy upon him. 

 

Aragorn glanced from the youngest twin to Elladan who was watching him again carefully.  “He is right. You are not,” The elder twin concurred quietly.  It was not bad that Aragorn had become an adult, they were proud of the man he had become... but it was hard to let go of the boy. 

 

“Oh.” Estel silently mouthed the one syllable word and leaned back against the headboard as realization sunk in.  His elven brothers were having difficulty with the fact that Aragorn had finally grown up.  The ranger reached his left hand behind his back pushing a pillow into a more comfortable position.  As his fingers touched the soft, down-filled bag, a thought brushed his mind and he gripped the cushion, tensing.

 

“You think I am so changed that you fear you no longer recognize the person in this body?”  He asked quietly, voicing the elves’ unspoken fears.

 

“Yes, perhaps.”  Elrohir answered hesitantly, glancing at Elladan for confirmation.  The brothers had always been honest with one another; it would do no good for them to hide their thoughts now. 

 

Nodding his head Aragorn dropped his gaze, throwing his brothers off just enough so that when he slipped the pillow he held from behind his back, Elladan was unprepared for the soft blow.

 

The elf fell off the side of the bed; the pillow following him as Aragorn landed the cushion squarely in his older brother’s face.  Gripping the edge of the bed Estel looked over the side of the mattress, watching as the elf pulled the pillow off of his head and stared, open-mouthed, at the human.

 

“Hmm... well, guess if I can still rub your face in a pillow I haven’t changed that much, have I?”  The human laughed from his vantage point before being pulled back from the edge by Elrohir.  The twin had taken hold of Aragorn’s ankle and jerked the ranger back, pressing a large bed pillow over the human’s head and burying his face in the blankets with a shout of mirth.

 

By the time Lord Elrond entered the room, followed by Legolas, no one could remember who had actually started the pillow fight, but the broken cases and the snowfall of downy feathers that rained down on the room’s occupants incriminated them all.

 

When Elrond cleared his throat, Elladan and Elrohir quickly sat up, releasing their captive who bolted upright in the middle of the bed, coughing and spitting out a mouthful of feathers.  Fluffy white twigs of down stuck out from the dark, disheveled hair at odd angles and the bright silver eyes smiled as the ranger extricated himself from the pile of pillows and empty cases that he had been buried under.

 

Looking slowly around the room Elrond shook his head, his gaze landing lastly on his youngest son, sitting in the middle of the bed, flanked by the elven twins who were trying desperately to look innocent - a tactic that very nearly always failed.

 

“So Estel, I see you have lost the pillow fight again?”  The elven lord entered the room, his tone imperious, his eyes full of laughter.  He fought to keep contained the smile that slipped slowly across his face.

 

“I am afraid so Ada.” Aragorn glanced between his brothers, “They were picking on me again.”  The human’s eyes took on a pitiable gaze, begging the elf lord to intervene.

 

When the twins started sputtering in self-defense and pointing at the ranger, Elrond could contain his laughter no longer.  “I see some things have not changed.”

 

“I am afraid Lord Elrond,” Legolas spoke up from his place in the doorway, “that with Estel around, some things never will.”

 

“Good.” Elrohir whispered, “I like it that way.”  He smiled as Aragorn glanced at him.

 

The ranger pulled his brother into a tight hug, “Me too.” He whispered into the elf’s ear before shoving the twin playfully away from him.

 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

~~~~~~~~
They gave me a life that’s not so easy to live
And then they sent me on my way
I left my loving, forgot my dreams
I lost them along the way.

Those little things you say
When words mean so much
You never back down
When they all shy away
You always listen to me.

 

--Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~

 

 

It had been nearly two weeks since Aragorn had returned and the rest that his weary heart had begged for was just only now beginning to take hold.  Padding barefooted across the wood floor of Elrond’s study room Aragorn quietly made his way to the picture window that stood open, facing the rift that Rivendell had been built into.  It appeared that no one was awake yet in the house save for Celboril and the kitchen staff.

 

Morning was just breathing her sigh of warmth in the valley.  The far side of the cleft that held Imladris was aflame with the first touches of the sun. 

 

Estel stood silently on the balcony that overlooked the river far below.  His unfocused eyes did not notice as the sun crept over the valley and painted her black and grey palette with brilliant colors of light.  His thoughts were flung far beyond the safety of the rift that sheltered him.  He shivered slightly but the chill that ran up his spine had nothing to do with the still cool morning air.

 

Elrond had been awake when the ranger stirred that morning and followed quietly in the man’s wake.  The elf lord had fully expected that there was much weighing on Estel’s heart that he was either unable or unwilling to share.  A shadow edged the ranger’s eyes and his lightheartedness had not returned fully.  Elrond stood in the shadows of the room behind his son watching the young human.  He could feel the confusion that warred inside the man, mixed with a sorrow that he did not understand.  They had spoken of the dark shadows of Mordor and all that had happened there... but truly, that had touched Legolas’ soul deeper than Estel’s.  There was something different that troubled his youngest son.

 

When Aragorn sighed deeply and laid his head down on his arms crossed atop the balustrade the elf lord moved from the shadows and stepped silently up behind the ranger, gently placing his hand on the broad shoulders as he moved to the side, trying to glimpse Estel’s face.

 

Aragorn started slightly before laying a rueful smile on the elf lord.  Elrond remained about the only being that could utterly surprise him like he just had.

 

“Father, you startled me.”  Aragorn shifted, facing the older elf and leaning against the low stonework.  “What wakens you so early?”

 

“Funny, I was about to ask you the very same question.”  Deep blue eyes pierced through to the soul before him and Aragorn was surprised to find himself instantly shying away from the touch that was so familiar and yet so unwelcome.  He dropped his gaze to the floor of the valley, watching the Bruinen sweep by below them.

 

Elrond turned and leaned against the railing, waiting out the human.  The quiet roar of the waterfalls at the head of the river could just barely be heard on the still morning air and the silence hung between them heavily.  He had finally decided that his son was not going to open up to him just yet, when Aragorn turned his gaze back to the elf and held his father’s questioning glance.

 

“I do not wish to be human.”

 

The statement, spoken quietly, was simple and blunt.  The grief behind the words touched Elrond’s heart.

 

“You were never given that choice Estel.  Your blood is Númenorean and though there is very minute traces of elvish in you; you cannot choose to be one of the firstborn my son.”  Elrond gently laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

 

“If I had been I would go with you now across the sea.  The world is wearying.  I have seen enough of man’s cruelty and intolerance to last a lifetime.  If I cannot be what my heart desires, cannot lay claim to the things I truly love, then I will not walk amidst those for whom I feel so little kinship, will not tread a path whose end I cannot see, I choose exile.”  Aragorn frowned deeply and glanced back across the way, finally noticing for the first time that morning had blushed the mountains with its first rays.  Obviously these thoughts had been heavy on his mind for some time.

 

“Your heart is weary.”  Elrond recognized the battle-exhausted look; the look of one who had seen too much death and darkness. 

 

“More than you know.”  The whispered words fell away, caught by the slight breezes that were beginning to pick up.

 

“I know full well how you feel Estel.  I too have been there and if you think that only men have the corner on brutality, intolerance and hatred you would be wrong.”  Elrond stepped back as Aragorn straightened and turned towards the elf, resting the small of his back against the top of the rail.

 

The ranger shook his head.  “I saw men killing each other, not even knowing why, but simply because they were sent out to do so.  I saw women and children caught in the chaos and whole cities decimated.  Men who sought profit by enslaving another being and subjecting that being to horrible cruelty.  Selling one another, murdering, stealing...” Aragorn closed his eyes against the images that surfaced. “The darkness I saw in Mordor was deep and terrible... but I saw glimpses of that same darkness in the eyes of too many in the south that were neither orc nor wraith.  I have seen what power does to men, and I want no part of it.”

 

“The elven races are no different,” Elrond said quietly.  “We are simply older now.  When one has an immortal lifetime, lessons learned are sometimes better remembered.  We were just as you are once.  I have seen elves do the same to one another.  I know how heavy your heart is.   You must trust that it will not always be this way.”  Elrond hurt for his son.  The things the young man had seen drew scars on the heart of a kind that often did not fully heal, but he could not allow the human to turn from his own race; this one had a destiny that could not be so easily thrown aside.

 

“It does not feel like it will ever leave, the ache I mean,” the ranger explained when his father frowned slightly at him.  “I went to Rohan, to Gondor, to see what their world held.  To see if I could be what they need me to be... I cannot.  You have told me of my heritage, of my supposed future, but I do not want it.”

 

“You do not have to right now my son.  It is not for you at this time.”  Elrond’s words were calm and reasonable, yet laced with compassion. 

 

“But it will be!”  Aragorn stepped back, his anger peaking at his own helplessness and sense of inadequacy, “And do you think that in twenty or thirty years men will have changed?  I do not.  What difference will I be able to make in the world?”

 

“More than you can know.” Elrond glanced down to Estel’s hands and noticed that Barahir was missing from his fingers.  The ranger slowly opened his fist and the ring shown brightly in the warm light.  When the elf met his son’s gaze he noticed the guilt that hid just behind his eyes.  “You were going to get rid of it?”

 

Aragorn nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor beneath his boots.  “I had thought to throw into the Bruinen where it would never be found...”

 

“And so escape your destiny?”  Elrond closed his right hand around his son’s, the ring biting gently into his palm.  “The ring only marks you outwardly as Isildur’s heir.”  With his left hand the elf touched the human’s chest above his heart, “The true power you carry, and the goodness with which you will wield it, is in here... and nothing can change that.”

 

Silver eyes locked onto the earnest blue ones.  He knew the truth in what his father told him, but his war-weary heart shied at the thought.

 

“You have not come to that point in your life yet Estel; you have much farther to go still and many years to enjoy.  Do not feel imprisoned by the expectations of others, even those of us who love you.  Go where your heart leads you; you know you are welcome to rest here as long as you wish.”  Elrond smiled as the hand caught in his own tightened slightly and Aragorn wrapped his right arm around the elf lord, pulling him in closely.

 

“Thank you father.  I would stay on here for a while.  I need the rest.” Estel whispered softly into the elf lord’s ear.

 

Elrond nodded in understanding as the young man pulled back, “I for one am glad, for I missed you these past years.  Since you have been in my life young one, I have begun to experience time as the race of men does and I do not cherish that feeling.”  He laughed lightly as he wrapped his arm around Estel’s shoulders and drew him back inside with him.  “It will do my heart good to have you near again.  Besides, Celboril has done nothing but complain about not being able to make panjacakes.  You know you are the only one who loved those things.  I am sure he will have some ready for you this morning when we break fast!”

 

Aragorn smiled and walked back into the house, easily allowing himself to be lead through the large mansion.  He gently wrapped his arm around his father’s waist and laughed as the older elf began to tell him about a stunt his brothers had pulled just last week.  He found he was amazed at how young he suddenly felt and how light his heart became when he released his cares and relaxed into the warmth of his home, Imladris.  Something echoed deeply inside and he realized he had missed his family more than he knew. 

 

Slipping Barahir back on his finger he allowed his heritage to settle deep in his heart, far from the surface; accepted but not taken up.  For now he was Estel, at home in Rivendell and he could hear the sounds of his brothers echoing down the stairwell as they teased Legolas mercilessly.

 

He laughed, pulling back behind his father slightly for protection as the Silvan elf vaulted the railing, jumped from the last landing of the staircase and landed lightly next to him.

 

“This is all your fault.  You must stop them.”  The blonde elf laughed as he stepped behind the human and the elf lord. 

 

Elladan and Elrohir had chased him down the stairs and the prince glowered at them with unrepressed mirth as he hid behind their father and brother.  “*I* did NOT use either one of your closets for my clothes, Estel gave these to me last night!  Take it up with him!”

 

Aragorn held up his hands innocently against his brothers mock-accusing stares.  “Well Celboril is the wrong size.  I couldn’t find you last night to ask and Legolas said he was sick of wearing my clothing...”

 

At this Elladan and Elrohir had to laugh.  “I wonder he did not weary of that the first day.”

 

Elrond shook his head with a smile.  Aragorn’s clothing, even the silk or velvet tunics and robes he wore around Imladris, had looked slightly off on Legolas’ graceful form.  Especially since Aragorn was wider built than the slender elf.  However, even the brown and maroon tunic and leggings that Aragorn had borrowed from his brothers, although a bit of a nearer fit, still did not look completely natural on the blonde archer.

 

“Well the good news,” the elven lord said patiently as the younger beings jostled about him with Aragorn pretending to growl at his brothers for the slight and them pretending to be oh so frightened. 

“Is that the tailor said the clothing I commissioned for the Prince should be ready later today.”  Elrond supposed rightly that Legolas would feel more comfortable once he was again able to dress in the

familiar styles of his woodland kin.

 

Legolas smiled gratefully, pretending to ignore the three brothers.  “Thank you.”

 

“Now,” Elrond used a tone one might employ for very small children, which made his three boys look up almost in unison.  It was all Legolas could do to keep from laughing.  “I believe Elladan and Elrohir expressed the desire to take you both out hunting with them today, so I suggest that this would be a good time to have that breakfast.”

 

Aragorn smiled.  It was *so* good to be home.  “Yes, Ada.”

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART TWO*~

 

 

 

The sun had ridden half way through its course across the sky when Aragorn finally convinced his brothers and Legolas to stop for a bite to eat.  The four had been out with the hunting parties since early morning and had sent the other elves back to Imladris with their catches only an hour ago.  The game on the plateau they hunted now was sparse but their boredom had turned into sport as they took turns hunting each other.

 

Aragorn had been the last one to play the part of the prey and none of the elves, including Legolas had been able to track the human.  When the three hunters had finally given up on finding him, their quarry had leapt into their midst from the branches of the huge trees that spread out a thick leafy canopy over the elves heads.  The shock and surprise on the elven faces had given the human great amusement.

 

Elladan gave the ranger a shove as he recovered from the initial shock.

 

“Estel will you never grow up!?”

 

Attempting to sober, Aragorn straightened up and glanced amongst the elves.  “No.” the man answered with mock seriousness before breaking into a huge smile.  The twins had almost gotten over their initial shock at the changes the years apart had wrought in their human brother and Aragorn noted with amusement that he was once again back to being their ‘little’ brother.  And he liked it that way... although he would never admit that to them.  “Please, let us break for food. I am starving. Please.”  He eyed Elrohir, knowing the youngest twin would have the most sympathy.

 

Shaking his head Legolas hooked his fingers in the ranger’s sleeve and dragged the man with him, back through the woods, trailing the twins.  “There was a pond not far from here.  We can eat there.”

 

Aragorn was laughing as he stumbled after the prince, jogging to keep pace with the swift being.

 

“Only if it is not near a cliff.” Elladan taunted, elbowing Elrohir who joined in the teasing.

 

“Yes you know how clumsy Estel is around them.”  The youngest twin continued.

 

“Or an orc encampment...” Elladan picked up the thread again.

 

Doing his best to ignore them, Aragorn shook his head and rolled his eyes, walking next to Legolas who was trying not to break out laughing.

 

“Or dwarves...” Elrohir laughed.

 

“Or rivers, or cities...”

 

“Wargs or wolves or old mills that he could fall off of.”  Elrohir stopped talking and jumped back as Aragorn rounded on his brothers.

 

“Now, that was not my fault, and so long ago I can’t believe you are even keeping score!  I have not fallen off a building since I was a child.” Aragorn advanced on the two who split up trying to stay out of reach.

 

“No, just waterfalls, trees and cliffs, things like that.” Elladan ducked as the ranger turned towards him, playfully lunging at the elf.  He rather suspected that Legolas had told them about the cliff incident in Mordor and that had helped set this off. 

 

Legolas snagged the back of the ranger’s coat and jerked him around forward.  “Ignore them, they are just jealous because your father gives you more attention.  They only wish it was them who lived such an exciting life.”

 

The taunt elicited a stammering of arguments and denials from the twins but Aragorn had stopped listening.  His war honed sense of danger had kicked in, something was not right and he began to search for the source of the disturbance.  Grabbing Legolas’ arm and the ranger slowed the elf and glanced warily about them as they reached the edge of the glade.  The deep pool Legolas had mentioned sparkled on the far side of the meadow, fed by a high mountain stream but the ranger did not proceed towards it.

 

Legolas held up his hand silencing the elves behind him.  Noting the tenseness in the prince they all began to listen to the woods about them and heard what Aragorn had first noticed, the forest was silent.

 

“We are not alone.” The ranger barely whispered, turning slowly and gazing into the cool recess of the woods.

 

He caught Legolas’ gaze as the elf glanced sharply his way.  Without words the two friends communicated in silence.  Aragorn directed the twins to separate and head back the way they had come.  Legolas would head through the woods to the right and Aragorn would take the left. With a curt nod of agreement the elves disappeared without a sound into the forest seeking what it was that hunted them.

 

Aragorn slowly drew his elven hunting knife, the blade quietly singing as the metal slid from its sheath.  He stalked through the forest, constantly glancing above him into the tree branches over head, wary and alert, every fiber of his being tensed and ready.  There was definitely someone or something out there, he could feel their proximity.  Slipping to the edge of the stand of trees as he completed a full circuit around the meadow Aragorn stopped at the point where he should have met up with Legolas but the elf was not there.

 

His worry notched up higher in his throat and he stood very still, straining to hear in the unnatural quiet.

 

The soft sounds of booted feet on the carpet of undergrowth caught his attention and he swiveled to his right, running silently in the direction that he had been alerted.

 

The trunk of a large old tree sheltered him from immediate view as the ranger stalked up on Legolas.  The elf faced away from his position, he had just dropped his elven blade to the ground and slowly raised his empty hands. 

 

A man stood behind him, his features concealed by a hooded cloak.  One of the human’s arms was around the prince’s neck, the other holding a thick hunting blade against the elf’s jugular.  Whatever the human was saying was blocked out by the rushing adrenaline that spiked through Aragorn.  He would not suffer his friend to be tormented or hurt by any man every again if it was within his power.

 

What he could not see however, was the smile that played across Legolas’ lips and the relaxed cast of the proud shoulders as the elf released the tension in his body; his ‘attacker’ was known to him.

 

Just as Legolas turned to greet the human who had so surprised him, he caught a glimpse of Aragorn as the man lunged at the hooded figure roughly dragging the man back a few steps away from the prince and the perception of threat.  Pressing the elven blade hard against the human’s neck he drew close and questioned the other harshly.

 

“You think the elf is game?  You like hunting elves?”  Aragorn tightened his death grip on the man’s neck squeezing his airway as gloved hands pried frantically at his arm.  “You have chosen your prey poorly.  You are not welcome in these mountains do you understand?”  The ranger growled angrily in the other’s ear, giving his captive a good shake.

 

“Aragorn, no!” Legolas leapt forward, stalling his friend from hurting the would-be attacker.

 

“Aragorn?” the human in the ranger’s grasp rasped as Strider quickly released the man and stepped away from him, unconsciously placing himself between the hooded figure and the elf prince.

 

“Estel, it is Halbarad, the rangers have been searching for you.”  Legolas explained, switching quickly into the elven tongue as his friend caught up with all that had just transpired.

 

The ranger before him smiled brilliantly, rubbing his neck where it was still tender from the attack.  “Aragorn! I never even heard you come up behind me, and look at you!”  Halbarad gave the young man before him a careful glance, “We have heard the tales of Thorongil.  It was my suspicion that is was in fact you.  When the rumors said that the great captain of the Gondorian army had abandoned her, and that Estel had returned to Rivendell, I knew it was true.”

 

Before Aragorn could respond the ranger walked out in to the open meadow and pressed his gloved fingers to his lips, releasing a long low whistle.  In seconds other rangers stepped out into the sunlight of the small glade joining their leader.  Elladan and Elrohir raced to the edge of the glen and immediately began greeting the newcomers that they recognized.

 

Aragorn turned to Legolas and looked the elf over quickly, “You weren’t hurt?”  He was still trying to reconcile the threat he had perceived with what had really transpired.  The elf prince stepped close to his friend and lowered his voice, glancing at the human and quietly reassured him.

 

“I am fine. Halbarad did not harm me, well other than my pride at being surprised by a *human*.” Concern quickly colored the elf’s formerly teasing gaze, “Are you all right?”

 

“I thought you were in danger.  I thought that...”  Aragorn sighed deeply, releasing his fears and pent up tension not finishing the thought.  He hated the war-like responses that had been drilled into him.  This was the second time he’d nearly harmed a friend because of an over-reaction.  It would take time to hone out those responses and not take reflexive action now that there was no immediate threat in his life.

 

“You thought I was being attacked.”  Understanding filled Legolas’ eyes.  Understanding and compassion.  Aragorn had set himself up as the elf prince’s fierce protector during those long, hellish, hopeless days in Mordor; that would not be easy for the human to let go of now that it was no longer necessary. 

 

“Yes, again.”  Aragorn’s voice was now only faintly edged with tension.

 

With a small smile Legolas laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “It is well.  I am fine, although you scared the life right out of me.  If he had been an attacker I should fear for *him* with you about.”  The elf joked softly, trying to bring a smile to the ranger’s face.  His attempts were rewarded as Aragorn smiled and shook his head, wrapping his hand around the elf’s arm and giving a tight squeeze before he turned back to the others who were busy conversing with the elven twins.

 

“Aragorn!” Elladan looked up from the conversation, “You must hear this.”

 

The two friends quickly crossed the distance between themselves and the knot of rangers that were talking quietly to the elves.

 

“They say it is a wight.”  A younger ranger to Halbarad’s left spoke up.

 

“Arendur, Elrohir was not challenging you, merely questioning.” The leader of the rangers deferred almost imperceptibly to Aragorn as the Dùnadan joined the circle, stepping aside lightly to allow him in.  “Though the barrow-wights are never up to any good, you are correct Elrohir, it is highly unlike that it is them.”

 

“You speak of barrow-wights?”  Aragorn questioned, joining them in the middle of the conversation.  His question was directed to Halbarad but he glanced around the group of men curiously, noting the ones he recognized.  His gaze landing lastly on Legolas.

 

“Yes.”  Halbarad’s statement redirected Aragorn’s attention and he raised an eyebrow in question, urging the other ranger on.  “In the hills east of the Shire there has been suspicious activity among the Barrow Downs, or so they say.  People have gone missing, Hobbits have been taken from the paths that cross near there.  All of the little folk have been freed but their possessions are gone.  Rumor has it that a few of the humans who have disappeared have never been found.  Even animals have been reported as stolen.”

 

“That does not sound like the scheming of a wight.”  Legolas offered softly.

 

“No, it is highly unusual, but the folk around there are adamant that the barrow-wights have been stirred up.  There are even stories flying about that the wraiths have returned and are searching the area, taking people as slaves for Mordor.”

 

Legolas shuddered involuntarily, his eyes momentarily clouding.

 

“That is highly unlikely; the wraiths are holed up in Mordor itself.  Or at least one of them.”  Aragorn didn’t offer how he knew that information, he simply made the statement, ignoring Halbarad’s unspoken question.

 

When the Dunadan was not forthcoming, Halbarad nodded in understanding and continued, “Others believe that it is highwaymen.  Whatever the cause, it is an evil venture and it needs to be stopped.  Someone must find out what is at the root of the disappearances and thievery.  If it is the barrow wights then we will need more help than simply elves or rangers have to offer.”

 

“Are you headed there now?”  Elladan asked from the far side of the ring.

 

Halbarad cast his gaze to the forest floor, hesitant to continue, “Actually that was why we came.”  The ranger met Aragorn’s eyes finally.  “Our numbers have lessened the past fifteen years that you have been gone.  These are all that remain of my camp.  We were on our way to combine our forces with another encampment when word was brought to us of the goings on in the Downs.  The wars on the borders of Gondor and Ithilien have drawn away some of our number, stretching us thin, and the constant increase in reports of orcs and wargs have kept the rest of us busy.  There are none that I can spare to keep watch over the south farthing let alone the eastern downs.  I was hoping that since you were back...”  Halbarad let the question hang between him and the younger man.  He had heard some of what had happened to Aragorn during his stay in Gondor and then the rumors that the ranger had passed into Mordor, following Legolas.  He was not sure that the man would want to take up the challenge so soon to returning home.  He knew he wouldn’t.

 

“If there were any one else I could trust, I would ask them first.”  Halbarad’s voice dropped so that the request suddenly became a thing between the two of them alone.  “If you would rather not, since you have just returned I would completely understand...”

 

The older ranger stopped speaking as a wide smile crossed Aragorn’s face.  The man who he realized was no longer young stepped closer to him and grasped his arm.  “You do not need to worry Halbarad.  I will go and look into this and if it is a barrow wight I know just whom I will call upon to help in the matter.  If it is others then that person or persons will be dealt with but it will stop.” He reassured.

 

“I’ll accompany you.”  Legolas offered.

 

“And we’re coming too!” Elrohir called to his younger brother.

 

“You hate the barrows.”  Elladan frowned, glancing at his twin.  “You said they were more frightening than...”

 

“Shut up Elladan.”  Elrohir viciously jabbed his brother, silencing him as the rangers turned to stare at the two elves.  The twin’s face reddened slightly as he barely caught the soft snickers of the men around him.

 

“There, see.”  Aragorn laughed returning his attention to Halbarad, “It’s all taken care of.  We’ll leave tomorrow at first light. But first please be our guests tonight.  Father would love to have you spend dinner with us, he so enjoys hearing what you have been up to.  Besides,” Aragorn grimaced and pointed at the red welt that had formed around the other ranger’s neck, “I feel I owe you for that nasty bruise you are going to have.  I am so sorry Halbarad, I truly did not recognize you.”

 

The ranger’s deep booming laugh filled the meadow, “Oh Aragorn, if you could have seen my face when you snuck up on me from behind.  I remember the days when you could never pull one over on me.  I am just very glad for Legolas’ help.  You have grown quite adept in your stalking techniques.  I fear I can teach you no more.”

 

Aragorn’s face reddened and he glanced at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck idly with his hand, slightly embarrassed at the mention of how terribly loud he used to be when in the wilds.

 

“Well perhaps you can still teach me how it is that we have passed fifteen years and you look the same as you did when last I saw you.” Aragorn swatted at the long locks of dark hair that fell about the other ranger’s shoulders, “Why if it weren’t for that graying in your hair I would never have known the years had passed at all.”

 

Halbarad feinted at the younger man.  “Why you...”  He laughed as Aragorn ducked and pushed Legolas forward, “You’re a fine one to talk.  Not all of us were born with Númenorean blood in our veins.  And I’ll have you know the wear of the years shows in you as well, if not so much.”  He followed as Aragorn began to lead them back toward the rift that Rivendell had been built into. “I see you’ve a few new scars to flaunt for the ladies.”

 

Choking on his laughter, Aragorn cast a quick glance over his shoulder, “And you are as bad as Elladan.  Come, we were just breaking for food.  Let us return home, perhaps Celboril will be able to scrounge us up something to hold us over until dinner.”

 

The small entourage of men and elves made their way off the mountain, their cheerful banter filling the woods as they passed beneath the wide-flung canopy.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

The hunger of the guests had been sated and Elrond had invited the rangers to remain into the evening and enjoy the hospitality of the Hall of Fire.  Already the great room was beginning to fill with elves from the surrounding homes.  They talked and laughed and sang.  More of them entered the large gathering place as the rangers filed in.  Some were producing instruments and in moments the Hall filled with music that lifted the heart and hung in the air. It reminded one of being outside gazing at the stars, hauntingly beautiful and at the same time ageless and old.

 

The rangers were received warmly and immediately joined the guests, dispersing through the room.  There were small pockets of elves and humans recounting tales on the east side of the room.  There Elladan and Elrohir could be found trading stories with their listeners and trying to out do one another. 

 

Legolas realized that he recognized few of the elves that filled the hall besides Celboril and some of the serving staff that he had become accustomed to seeing on his frequent visits.  He followed Aragorn as the human wound his way from one side of the great room to the other, greeting neighbors and trading news.  It seemed that most of Elrond’s guests were familiar with the elven Lord’s human son and warmly welcomed him back.

 

The Silvan elf was waylaid by Celboril who caught his sleeve and pulled him nearer.  The older elf was laughing helplessly and begged the prince to stay.

 

“You must help me.”  He smiled at the ranger who stood next to him, glowering.  Halbarad crossed his arms indignantly and glared at the laughing elf. “He sings like a love sick elk.  He cannot keep a tune and swears he can.  Help me teach this whelp what singing truly sounds like.”

 

Legolas laughed in spite of himself.  His spirit, still somewhat recovering from his time in Mordor was lifted as he glanced between the two beings.

 

“I do not sing like an elk!” Halbarad sputtered.  “Lesgalwen, play that ballad again and we shall let Legolas be the judge of my singing abilities.”

 

Aragorn, oblivious to his friend’s plight, slowly shifted through the elves gathered in his father’s house. It had been years since he had been in the Hall of Fire and still it was all he had remembered it to be.  The atmosphere was full of mirth and light.  The musical sounds of elven laughter buoyed his own flagging spirit as his mind turned to the things they had discussed at dinner over and over.  His attention was captured as Lord Elrond entered the room.  His father.

 

The smile that spread unconsciously across his face widened as the elves cheered and welcomed the elf Lord into their midst.  It seemed as though all the surrounding homes in Imladris had emptied and their inhabitants had gathered here for the evening as was so oft their want to do in the Hall of Fire.

 

Elrond moved easily among the many guests gathered under his roof, serving them and seeing to their needs.  The Hall of Fire was indeed large enough to hold even more, but the company that gathered tonight was plenty and easily entertained themselves.

 

The servants of the House of Elrond were never required to be such in the Hall of Fire.  They served their lord willingly, faithfully by choice and some out of familial devotion like Celboril who had known Elrond since his childhood days.  Never did one of the firstborn serve another under duress and Elrond for his part made sure that they were treated as guests at such gatherings.  He handed Halbarad a mug of heated wine as he passed by; it looked like the man could use it.  The elf lord’s laughter echoed through the hall when Celboril winced as the ranger missed a higher note.

 

Clapping his hand on Legolas’ slender shoulder, the lord of Imladris bent close to the Silvan elf, speaking loudly enough for those around to hear as he teased.  “Please Legolas; teach Halbarad how to sing the Ballad of Elondil before it is ruined forever.”

 

With a laugh and a mock bow the blonde-haired elf acquiesced.  “As you wish my lord.”  Legolas had up to this point been simply offering pointers and partially taunting Halbarad as Celboril attempted to teach the ranger the elven song, refraining from singing the melody himself.

 

Aragorn, having made his way through the large hall flopped down into one of the soft, comfortable chairs that was situated on the far side of the room and watched as Legolas began singing.  The Silvan elf’s voice started out softly, the notes pure and rich.  The musicians around Legolas picked up the song, their instruments a soft, melodic backdrop for the elven voice.  Remembering the words more clearly and finding his courage, the elf’s voice strengthened.  He let his thoughts infuse the words with the images that he saw in his mind as he closed his eyes and the song filled the room, silencing even those in the far corner telling tall tales to one another.  Aragorn closed his eyes as well and sank into the comfort of the chair, letting the rich elvish words and the sweet notes wash over his restless soul.  A smile touched his lips.  Legolas sang like one of the famed bards of old, never missing a note and singing with a clear, pure voice that the ranger found soothing.

 

As the song slowly quieted and slipped away the room erupted in cheers, quickly falling back into the low buzz of people talking and laughing with one another.  Stories were picked back up mid-sentence and a dozen different tunes were taken up, as more instruments were unpacked.  Clapping Halbarad on the shoulder Legolas excused himself and walked slowly through the hall, making his way to where Aragorn lay sprawled in a deep soft chair.

 

The elf seated himself quietly on the large, plush wing, pulling one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it.  Neither friend spoke.  Aragorn had not opened his eyes but he knew that the elf had joined him.  He could smell the scent that was singularly Legolas and had felt the slight movement of the chair as the prince settled himself on the arm.

 

The warmth of the room and the light-hearted pleasure of good company lulled the companions into a state of peace and contentedness.  The fire in the great hearth sparked and roared merrily as it was constantly fed.  Aragorn had always loved this room, he had found it fascinating as a child to discover that the fire was continually kept going and never died out.  In fact, even when the Bruinen had jumped its banks, now so many years ago, and the house had been almost completely evacuated Celboril had never let the fire go out.

 

The ranger’s thoughts turned to the past, remembering and embracing once more his rich elvish heritage that his adopted father had so willingly and easily shared with him.  Oh but in his heart he was elvish, and he silently cursed his natural born lineage.  Men.  Thoughts of the men he had known who had served under and with him brought mixed feelings and uneasiness filtered quietly back into his heart unbidden.

 

“You are ill at ease on such a pleasant evening.”  The light weight of Legolas’ hand on his shoulder stirred the ranger from his reverie, “What troubles you Estel?”

 

For long moments they sat, the elf content to allow the human the time he needed to respond.  When he spoke, Aragorn’s voice was soft, meant for the prince’s hearing alone.  The words surprised the elf.

 

“Will you be wanting to leave for home soon?”  Grey eyes finally opened, fixing on the silver-blue ones that stared down at the human in surprise.

 

“I hadn’t given it much thought.”  Legolas replied honestly, for he had not.  Time was a different matter among elves.  And although he knew Thranduil would desire word of his plans if he were able to send it, his accountability to his father was not as it had been when he was younger, or as it would have been were he human.

 

Aragorn nodded slowly and looked back to the intricately tiled floor.  He kept forgetting that Legolas and his father had a different relationship than he and Elrond; due in no small part to the very fact that time was perceived so diversely among the races.

 

“Why do you ask?”  Legolas shifted slightly, turning so the Dùnadan had his full attention.  The celebrations in the room were forgotten as the two friends talked quietly.  “Do you wish me to leave?”

 

“No!  I mean... unless you wanted to.”  Aragorn turned in the large chair, drawing his feet up onto the cushion and resting them on the arm near Legolas’ thigh.  That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted.  “Actually, if you don’t mind, I would have you stay on for a time.  Even after we return from the Shire I mean.”

 

“Estel, I had no plans to leave anytime soon.”  The prince glanced up as a party of elves passed them by, exiting the large room.  Returning his stare to the open gaze of his friend he continued.  “I want to stay...” Legolas words faltered and softened and the ranger was forced to concentrate on what he was saying, “my heart needs it right now.” The elf lightly touched his chest, his thoughts far away.  He loved his home, but Mirkwood in general was no longer a place of light, and Legolas wished to linger in the beautiful bliss of Imladris for a time before he faced the journey into the dark woods. 

 

Concern colored Aragorn’s gaze and he started to speak when Legolas glanced up at him once more, the shadow of remembrance passing swiftly from the deep blue eyes.  “It is good for me to be here with your family, with you and with your father.  And if it is also your wish, then I would be more than glad to remain.”

 

Nodding slowly, it was Aragorn’s turn to shift his gaze anywhere away from the searching glance of his friend.  He knew the elf could see into his soul in a way that most others never could, never chanced, and weren’t allowed.  Usually that was all right, but for some reason it was hard to let the prince see his hesitancy, the indecision that warred inside of him.  “Yes, I would that you stayed on, but I did not want to keep you if you wished to return to your father.”

 

The light laughter of the elf surprised the ranger and he glanced up quickly, confused.

 

“Oh Aragorn, these months I have been away from my father’s kingdom are as days for him.  He will not have missed me so soon although I think I should wish to send him word that I am well and staying on in Rivendell.  Truly he has probably already guessed.  We have finally accustomed him to our ways mellon-nín,” the prince’s laughter was light.  “When he learned I meant to visit you he appointed a lieutenant to take over my patrols for an indefinite period of time and started making long-term care arrangements for my Ketrals.  He won’t have them in the palace when I’m not there.”  Legolas’ hand on Aragorn’s shoulder tightened slightly.  “He does not expect me back immediately.  I will stay.”

 

This was indeed what Aragorn’s heart was questioning that he had not had the courage to ask.  He was a leader of men, a captain in the army of Gondor, a man raised among elves to be both human and elven, the misgivings of his heart and the indecision that plagued his thoughts bothered the ranger.

 

“Your heart needs the rest too Estel.”  Legolas read past the walls and the closed, emotionless face that stared up at him.  “You are weary.  Perhaps... perhaps it would be better if we told Halbarad that we cannot go at this time?  It is no slight to you.”

 

“No.”  Aragorn didn’t shift his gaze, allowing the elf to see his fears and hesitancies, he trusted the prince with his life, with his soul. “No,” he repeated with a sigh, “there is not the man power to be spared else wise and the inhabitants of Bree and the Shire need help.  Something like this will lock the countryside up with fear.  They are simple people Legolas and they have had to live with evils such as this for far too long.  If you will go with me I would be grateful for your company my friend.  And between you and my brothers I have nothing to worry over.”

 

Legolas gazed up at the ceiling for a moment as though pondering his reply but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his thoughts.  His hesitancy garnered the desired reaction as Aragorn laughed softly and gave the elf a small shove. 

 

“Yes,” Legolas laughed, dodging the playful smack, “I would enjoy being out with you, Estel, and your brothers as well.  It has been a long time since we have all traveled together.  It will be exciting for me, as I have never been that far west yet.  I would love to go.”  He smiled down at his friend, “And I will stay here in Rivendell when we return for as long as you should wish.  There isn’t another Yén for a few years and seeing as father and I parted on amicable terns for once, I have no pressing reason to return home.”  The elf’s smile reached his voice, softening the words in jest.

 

Aragorn mirrored the smile the elf favored him with and pushed himself up out of the deep cushions of the chair.  Extending his hand down he pulled the elf up and wrapped his arms around the prince’s slender shoulders.  “Hannon le mellon-nín.”  He whispered in Legolas ear.  “That being the case my dear elf, I am going to retire for what remains of the evening. I have not the stamina that you do and if we leave in the morning I wish to be fresh and ready.”

 

“Yes!” Legolas shoved the human towards the doorway, “I wish not to have a grumpy ranger on my hands.  Nothing is more intolerable!” 

 

“Prissy elf!”  Aragorn called the old taunt over his shoulder affectionately.

 

“Filthy human!”  Legolas called back in kind, “Bathe while you are at it!”

 

The room silenced a degree as the two old friends called the jaded remarks to one another.  Aragorn blushed deeply as he glanced at his father, realizing the words spoken in jest had been heard by more than just Legolas.  Elrond gracefully crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“My pardon, gentle beings, but I must take my leave of you.  As my friend has so kindly pointed out, I am in need of a bath and a bed!”  The ranger called to their guests.  He smiled widely and pointed to the wayward strands of hair that fell into his eyes as proof.  His admission brought a round of laughter and a good deal of teasing from the other rangers in the room.  The voices of his brothers could be heard over the tumult of the cheer and he glanced once more at his elven father.  The elf lord’s smile widened and he shook his head fondly.

 

“Off with you then.” He mouthed silently, “I will be up later.”

 

With a nod Aragorn turned and left the great hall seeking out the quieter places of the Last Homely House.  He hoped his father would wake him even if he had fallen asleep by the time Elrond sought him out.  He really needed to talk with the older elf.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART THREE*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~
Unsure of yourself
You stand divided, and now
Which road will lead you there?
Last time you fell and you hit hard
Your wounds have healed by now,
But you still see your scars.

 

--Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

Aragorn woke with a small gasp, his body tense as he sat partway up in bed.  Elrond was seated in the large comfortable chair that was a permanent fixture in the ranger’s room.  The elf lord was gazing out the picture window that took up more than half of the far wall.

 

“Oh.” Aragorn relaxed back against his pillows, “You’re doing it again aren’t you?” He asked quietly as the dark eyes turned back to watch him.

 

Elrond didn’t answer the question, only smiled slightly.  It was true; he had been in the young human’s room for sometime now, watching his youngest son sleeping.  Aragorn glanced over the blankets scrunched in a ridge near his face and saw his small shell night-light burning brightly on the mantle. It had been refilled and its wick was trimmed.  He knew the light was for him should he wake, as the elf lord needed no aid in seeing in the dark.

 

The house was quiet within.  The sounds of laughter and celebrating no longer filtered up the steps to reach the sleeping rooms.

 

“Is Legolas asleep?”

 

“Yes.”  Elrond’s smile widened. “He had quite a good time tormenting your brothers by telling stories about them to our guests.  Moranuen even pitched in to aide him.” The older elf shook his head as the human laughed softly.