Remember How to Smile

Chapter 16: Every Ending is a Beginning

by Cassia and Siobhan

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“Elrohir told me I would find you here,” a voice interrupted Aragorn’s peace.

He had not heard the intruder approaching, but he knew the voice all the same and didn’t turn towards the questioner.

“I’ll have to remember to thank him later,” Aragorn replied sarcastically.  He kept his eyes trained across the valley below.  His gaze was unfocused and directed at nothing in particular.  This was one of his favorite spots near Rivendell, particularly at this time of year.  The early snowfall from the first storm of the season had melted leaving the valley clean and fresh, waiting for the next blanket of winter to shower it in white.

The human sat perched on a rock in the middle of the river at the waters head of the Bruinen.  His unique position would not have been possible a few months ago when the stream was still swollen with the winter’s run-off.  Now, though, the receding waters had exposed the large granite rocks that comprised the lip of the falls and Aragorn was able to easily sit on one of the largest outcroppings.  His feet dangled over the edge of the drop off and he kicked his boot heels against the stone wall behind them.  It was a habit he had picked up as a child and one he had never quite out-grown.

He was wearing his old ranger’s outfit and let his hair down from the braids that usually held it back.  Strands of grey streaked from his temples back into the darker tresses.  Aragorn closed his eyes as the wind fingered through the wayward strands of hair near his face, brushing it away from his cheeks.  It felt good to be away from the house for a bit.

They had been in Imladris for nearly two months now and he knew his time in Rivendell was coming to an end.  The closer the prospect of leaving loomed the heavier his heart became.

Legolas leapt lightly out onto the naturally formed bridge and approached his friend.

“Would you rather then that I left you alone?” the elf asked softly as he seated himself next to the human.

“No, please,” Aragorn responded quickly.  He scooted over so the elf had more room to sit.

“How are you feeling?” Legolas asked the human, quirking an eyebrow as he turned his full attention on his friend.

“I should be asking you that!” The man laughed lightly.  “Is the feeling returning?”  He took one of the elf’s hands in his own, turning it palm up and traced across it with his index finger looking for any response.

“Every day it improves,” Legolas answered.  He twitched as the sensation tingled and tried to pull his hand away.

“Pray tell me, Aragorn why you are here?” Trying to divert the healer’s attention, the prince gazed out over the vista below.

“Why?”  The king laughed softly.  The diversion worked as he released the elf’s hand.  Breathing in the afternoon breezes the man visibly relaxed as he turned his attention back to the valley below them.

“This is my most favorite place in all of Rivendell – in the valley that is.  I mean just look,” he explained pointing off to their left, “The Misty Mountains rise there and over that way is The Shire though you cannot see it.  From here you can trace the Bruinen all the way back to the house.  And Rivendell... Rivendell is most beautiful from here.  It looks like a jewel in the evening sun.  I love this spot.”

When he turned to look at the elf next to him, Legolas’ face was scrunched up in a quizzical expression of disbelief.

“What!? Do you disagree?” The man questioned, surprised by his friend’s reaction.

“Well, it is true, Estel, that the valley is beautiful from here but...” Legolas faltered for words glancing about them into the forests that bracketed the stream.  “Well... it’s just that honestly I hate this place and I always have, ever since we lost you here.  There is no beauty from this vista for me.”

“Lost me?”  Aragorn was having a hard time following the elf’s train of thought.  Turning full towards his friend he pulled his right leg up to his chest.  Wrapping his arms around his boot the man rested his chin on his knee.  “What are you talking about, Legolas?”

“Aragorn, forget you already what happened here?”  Exasperated Legolas recounted exactly why he hated the woods in this area.  “This is the exact spot where you fell over the falls when the orcs attacked us that summer that I was with you, before the Witch-king took me.”

“That was years ago, Legolas!”  Aragorn shook his head in disbelief as he caught up with his friends thinking.  “And you accuse me of remembering the most inane bits of information.”

“It’s not inane!” Legolas retorted a bit harshly.  “After all your years amongst the elves have you never learned that for us every memory is as fresh in our minds as though it happened yesterday?  Whenever a recollection is made the emotions and sensations that accompanied it are vividly recalled.  That, my dear friend, is why we sometimes take so long to heal and why our mistakes are ever with us.”

The king stared wide-eyed at his friend, wondering at what the elf had just said.

“Did you never wonder why I never spoke of Dorolyn for so many years?  Or why your brothers never returned with you to this place when you asked them to repeatedly?” Legolas continued.

“No,” Aragorn answered softly, thinking through his response.  “For humans, memories are not like that at all.  In fact the older I get the more I cannot conjure up the exact details of certain events.  Time has a way of erasing them from the heart and mind and leaving only the things behind that we want to remember.  It’s easy to put away the things one does not want to recall.  My memories are more indistinct than yours are, I am afraid.  In fact, I had forgotten all about that year.”

Silence fell between them as they both walked through lost memories.

“That was an awful year,” the human spoke up again after several minutes.

His opinion of that time so long ago caused the elf to start laughing.

“It really was,” Legolas agreed.  “Sometimes I am very surprised that we survived our youths or, rather, your youth.”  He moved quickly sideways as the human elbowed him.

“Hey, now I happen to remember that some of it was your doing!”

“And what exactly would that be?” Legolas asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the man.

“It was not my idea to go treasure hunting for a lost seeing stone and nearly lose our lives! NOR was it my idea to sleep in that madman’s turret of a castle for nearly a month.  I don’t care what Gimli says about the architecture, it’s the creepiest place I’ve ever been in.  I told you I heard orcs in Isengard, but noooo I was being paranoid.  Me!” Aragorn smirked as he watched the elf’s mouth drop open.  “I do believe an ‘I told you so,’ is highly overdue.”

“You can remember all that and not remember falling from this very spot?!” Legolas fairly shouted.  “And by the way, I’ll have you know that staying with Saruman was Gandalf’s idea and not mine.”

“Gandalf’s not here to blame and that does not change the fact that there_were_orcs!”  Aragorn exaggerated his words as he repeated his statement.

Legolas sighed deeply and admitted defeat.  “Yes, Estel, you were correct that there were orcs.”

“Nor was it my idea to be exiled,” Aragorn muttered quietly.  He was unsuccessful at hiding the smirk that decorated his face.

He yelped in surprise when the elf smacked him upside the head.

“No, but it was your fault!”

“No, wrong again, dear prince.  It was your conniving kinsmen!” the man pointed out in good natured banter.

“About as much as it was the fault of your kind that we ended up in Mordor nearly dying at the hands of your infamous orcs,” Legolas smiled wickedly turning the argument back on his friend.

“Oooh ouch.  Got me there,” Aragorn conceded.  “I had forgotten that one too.  It’s so much easier to forget the bad things.”

“When you’re a human,” Legolas spoke up softly after the laughter had died down. “I sometimes feel cursed that we can not.”

“There are some things I wish to forget for the pain but yet I hope I never forget because of the pain,” Aragorn replied cryptically.  He rubbed his hand against his chest as though willing the heaviness in his heart to abate simply from the touch.

“What do you speak of, Estel?” Legolas sobered, realizing that his friend was hurting more than he had realized.

“Legolas, can I ask you something?”  The evening was approaching and the rock they sat on had begun to cool as the sun dropped away in the west.  Aragorn pulled both his feet up and crossed them beneath him as he faced his friend.

“Always, you know that,” the elf reassured.

“Well, you never speak of it, or rarely, but I need to know...when you returned to Mirkwood without your father there...” Aragorn did not finish asking.

He had no need to.  Legolas understood exactly what he was asking.

“In all my years in Middle-earth there have only been only a handful of times that I have dreaded returning home.  Once, when I was young and did something foolish.  After we had been banished and father was dying.  After the War of the Ring,” Legolas ticked the memories off on his fingers, but then halted.  “And after father left.  Of those, only the last two lived up to my expectations of dread.”  The elf sighed almost imperceptibly.

“I thought that the shock of returning to the desolation that occurred in the last days of the War of the Ring was the worst homecoming possible, but it was not.  The last time I returned home it was unbearable.  The forests are still there and they flourish once more, more so now that the evil that so long dwelt in the south has been totally obliterated from their midst.  Mirkwood truly is the Great Greenwood that it once was, and for that I rejoice.  However, it still mourns the loss of my father and our folk, all those who died there, and all those who sailed.  The grief that lingers there is like the mists that shroud the woods in the morning.  It clings to all that is near and chills one to the bone.  It speaks of the losses that forest has endured and naught but the rising sun can drive them from the heart.  Though the woods flourish they seem as if they are in disrepair and decay.  To the world they seem beauteous, but... without the brightness and power of my father in their midst, to me they are but a pale shadow of what they were in his presence.  For these reasons, I do not return.  He is not there and everything reminds me of his absence.  Times have changed too much.  The change is not for ill really but, after a thousand years, I find myself unable to grow in a new direction so easily.  I would rather hold dear the memory of what was then have to reconcile it with what is.  I will see my father and my mother again, I know this.  That day is not even very far away now by the way we reckon time... but I will not see Adar there, in Greenwood.  I will never see him there again and that fact makes it unbearable for me to return.”

“Yes.”  Aragorn agreed simply.  His voice was soft, barely audible as the weight of his own losses ached in his heart.  “It is like that.”

“It leaves a hole in your heart, where you know something or rather someone should have been,” Legolas agreed.

The man next to him simply nodded and dropped his gaze from the piercing stare of the elf’s.

“Nothing will ever fill that emptiness, will it?” Aragorn whispered.

“Is the great healer asking this poor ailing elf for advice on the heart?”  Legolas half teased his friend, trying to lighten the king’s disposition.

With a small laugh Aragorn glanced up through wayward strands of hair that fell into his eyes.  If not for the gray streaks and the marks left from laughter throughout the years, Legolas could have sworn that he was looking at a young Estel.

“I suppose that is exactly what I am asking.  I want the pain to go away,” the man admitted forlornly.  “Or I want him back.”

“He can’t come back,” Legolas whispered.  He could feel his own heart tighten up in response to the desires that had plagued him not so long ago.  “And the pain won’t go away for awhile.”  Legolas flexed his hand experimentally offering it to the healer as proof.

The burn mark was nearly healed, only a scar marked its presence.

“I am living proof that healing takes time,” Legolas continued.  He laughed softly at the self-depreciating remark.  “You yourself told me that I must give my heart time to heal and now I’m telling you the same thing.”  He clasped his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder.  “You cannot expect yourself to acknowledge what you have only just accepted.  The hurt will be there for a long time, but you can help the healing begin by letting him go.”

Glancing away from the elf, Aragorn tried to hide his feelings.  It was impossible.  His friend knew him too well.

“He would want you to live and go on.  Take some advice from an old friend, get away by yourself and tell him goodbye like you would have had you accompanied him to the harbor,” Legolas softly instructed his friend.  “I did the same months after Adar had left.  It really will help.  Trust me.”

Aragorn only nodded, trying hard to collect himself.

“And here I thought all along that you were just worrying over me!” Legolas teased.  Deep down he was immensely relieved that Estel wasn’t just fretting over his condition.  This was something he could help his friend with, something he understood.

The taunting evoked a choked laugh and a playful shove that the elf did nothing to avoid.

“I’m sorry you know what it feels like to have to let your Adar go.  But I’m so glad you understand and have been where I am,” Aragorn admitted selfishly.  “It’s good to talk to someone other than family.  I just haven’t felt it was ever the right moment to really talk to Elrohir or Elladan about it.  I didn’t want to be a burden to them.”

Legolas smirked and glanced at the man out of the corner of his eyes.  “Hmm...those words sound oddly familiar.  Where have I heard them before?”

The elf’s tone was mocking and Aragorn knew exactly what he was driving at.

Shaking his head, he gazed into the eyes fixed on his face.  Legolas was barely containing his laughter behind the huge smile that lit his countenance.

“Well, one thing is for sure, my friend,” Aragorn observed, “Since we have returned to Imladris, it seems you have remembered how to smile.”

Legolas’ grin widened until he was laughing.

“‘Tis true,” he countered.  “And it feels good to be alive again.  I have you to thank for that.”

“Nay, dear friend, you did the healing.  I could only help.  In the end you decided to remain among the living here and I am so glad.”  Estel’s heart lightened even as he spoke.  He was nowhere near being freed of his sorrow, but that time was coming.  Right now he was content that the elf next to him seemed to be whole, body and spirit.

He enveloped the prince in a fierce hug before turning back once more to watch the sun dip below the topmost reaches of the mountains.

“I’m glad we’ve had this time,” Aragorn murmured after a moment.  “I’m glad you wanted to come here, Legolas.  I have treasured this time, the sharing of stories and memories... We’ve lived a full life together, have we not, mellon-nín?”

“We have indeed,” Legolas agreed with a small smile.  “We have shared so many things, my friend.  Perhaps that makes change all the harder to deal with in its own way.  Yet it cannot be denied.  The very world itself is changing; I feel it in the air around me everyday.  Do you think our story is ending, mellon-nín?”

Aragorn smiled gently.  “Much has changed.  But some things will always remain the same.”  He placed his hand lightly on Legolas’ shoulder, giving it a fond squeeze.  “Life is the tale we all play out every day.  The stories never end, Legolas.  We merely pass them on for others to carry out.”

Legolas smiled crookedly, amusement lighting his eyes.  “I swear you were just about to tell me that in every ending there is a new beginning, Estel.”

Aragorn grinned broadly and shrugged.  “And risk sounding like somebody’s grandfather?  No, thank you, I have some time yet before Eldarion is old enough to make one of those out of me,” he chuckled.  “Still... no matter how well-worn or trite the phrase may seem... there is truth there, is there not?”

Legolas clasped his hand over Aragorn’s and nodded.  “There is indeed, my friend.  There is indeed.”

“Then let us head back, shall we?” the human asked.  Standing to his feet he offered his hand and pulled the elf up with him.  “Because I’ll wager one thing that hasn’t changed is that my dear brothers and guards will send out search parties soon if we don’t show up.  And I do believe it is our turn to help in the kitchen tonight.”

With a groan the elf dusted himself off and followed the man across the rock bridge and down the path that clung to the cliff face.

“How long do you think we can tarry before they will simply find their own food and cook it?”  Legolas questioned with a laugh.

Although the falls had lessened the roar was still deafening and the elf had to shout to be heard by the human.

“You don’t know how they can be!  In all likelihood they would starve first and never let me live it down.  And before that happens they will send out search parties to drag us back,” Aragorn yelled over his shoulder.

“I do believe Arwen has more sense than that!”  Legolas responded.  He grabbed the king’s arm as the man slipped on the wet rocks.

Aragorn turned back and glanced at Legolas drawing him closer so he wouldn’t have to shout.  “I was talking about Elladan and Elrohir!”

As if on cue a shout reverberated from below.  Glancing down they could see the twins accompanied by Jonath, Raniean and Trelan.

“You’re late, my lord!” Jonath called.  He flashed his liege a quirky smile.

“And you’re both cooking don’t forget!” Elladan shouted.

Turning back to the prince, Aragorn smiled and shook his head.  “Told you so.”

~*~

Elladan had gone for more wine from the cellars and the conversations had broken up for the moment.  Everyone had moved into the Hall of Fire after dinner to relax and talk about the day.

Slipping quietly out of the great hall Aragorn made his way to the northernmost balcony.  It was where his father had always retreated.  It was the same one that Elrohir favored so in memory of his mother.  The day had been full; the night was rich in the company of friends and family.  Yet that familiar sense of something lacking crept back into his awareness.  It begged at the back of Estel’s heart for release, for attention... for the one person who was not there and would not be coming.  He had shoved it away for long enough, he needed healing.

It was time he took care of the heaviness of his heart, it was time to move on and to say goodbye as Legolas had suggested.  He just needed to do it alone.  He felt silly at first but, as the quiet of the evening wrapped around him and the sounds of the house faded away, his heart found its voice.

The months had passed swiftly and those beneath the rafters of Imladris were well on their way to normalcy - all except for their healer.  Ever since they arrived, Aragorn’s focus had been fixed on helping others heal in one way or another.  Legolas, Arwen, Dari... he had taken little or no time for the empty ache in his own heart.  No quiet moments away from others to make amends that had gone unmade.  No safety for the hurt places in his heart to open up and voice their tears.  It had taken Legolas’ gentle prying for Aragorn to realize that he had been neglecting his own healing.

His thoughts turned outward again back to the source of the pain that ached deeply inside.  The one who could release him was the one he missed so much.

Elrond.

He wanted to pretend that Rivendell was unchanged, but that was not entirely true.  The gardens were proof of their master’s absence.  The snow storms that had coated the valley in its first flurry of winter attested to the fact that the power of the elves who had flourished here had passed.

And yet at the same time, there was still a lingering eternal feeling here.  The trees whispered that although some things changed, some always remained the same.  The magic spell of peace that held Rivendell together had lessened but not waned.  The human had seen it working in Legolas as the elf had smiled and laughed so hard at times that he nearly cried.  It was good to hear the sound of elvish mirth once more and gave even more contentment to hear it from Legolas.

Seating himself on the bench, Aragorn leaned forward and rested his forehead on the stone balustrade.  He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.  Slowly he began to think through the weariness in his heart, allowing words to express what he was feeling, saying the things he had never said when he had had the time.  His thoughts were so heavy and loud as he worked through them that he didn’t notice he was actually speaking them aloud until they were answered.

“I am sure he misses you as well, Estel,” Elrohir’s soft voice carried to the human, startling him.

Aragorn jerked upright and spun around as the elf moved towards the bench and sat next to the man.

“You were telling Ada how much you miss him.  How you wish you had taken the time to speak with him more while he was here,” Elrohir answered the unspoken question in his younger brother’s eyes.  With a sigh the elven twin glanced out across the darkened vale.  “I miss him too.  His laughter.  That scowl he would give us when we pulled a prank or brought you home wounded once more.  We never really talk about him anymore.  It hurts too much.”

The soft smile barely touched Elrohir’s eyes as he lost himself in memories for a brief moment.

Pulling back from the edge of recollection, the elf gazed at the man and continued.  “The valley is not the same without him here.  Do you know we actually had winter storms last year?  They culled the smaller trees and broke branches out of the taller ones.  The Bruinen even jumped its banks when the spring thaw commenced.  And the gardens...” Elrohir glanced past Estel into the garden beyond them.  “They have fallen and grow wild now.  Moranuen tries to help us in tending them but there are not nearly enough elves here anymore and the power of Vilya has faded and left.”

“I wish he had stayed,” Elrohir whispered after a few moments of silence.

“So do I,” Aragorn agreed.  He dropped his gaze to the stone floor beneath him.  “There are days I would give anything for his counsel, for his encouragement and strength.  There are nights I have wished for his touch, just to ease my sleep.  To remind me there is someone near who is wiser and more experienced than I.  To let me know that I am not alone,” The human’s voice trailed off softly.  “It’s like being an orphan all over again, having Ada gone.  I hate that feeling.”

When Elrohir didn’t speak, Aragorn glanced over at his brother.  The elf had hidden his face in the palms of his hands and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“Oh, Elrohir, no,” Aragorn shushed his older brother.  Shifting on the bench he drew the elf against him, holding the twin’s head against his chest and gently rocking him.  It was an automatic response he had gotten used to doing with Eldarion, much like his father had with him.  He didn’t even give it a second thought.

Elrohir felt his brother’s soft kisses in his hair.  He felt the weight of Estel’s cheek on the top of his head and the human’s arms tighten about him.  He and Elladan had talked frequently of their father’s leaving but having his youngest brother home had somehow broken open the deepest parts of his heart where the hurt still lingered.

“El?” A soft worried voice interrupted the quiet.  Aragorn released his brother as they both turned towards the balcony behind them.  Elladan stood just inside the doorway watching.  His eyes were huge in the dark night and Aragorn could just barely see the tracks of tears that traced the curves of his cheeks.  His twin’s grief had touched him deeply.  He wasn’t sure what was wrong but he had felt his brother’s sorrows.

“Elladan,” Aragorn softly spoke his eldest brother’s name.  Beside him Elrohir was unsuccessfully trying to pull himself together.  The sound of his name seemed to break the spell that held the elvish twin rooted in place and he stumbled forward, kneeling next to the bench beside Elrohir.

“What is it?” Elladan asked although he began to guess.  He needed to hear it himself.  He needed healing as badly as his brothers did.

“We miss Ada,” Elrohir whispered.

Aragorn nodded mutely when Elladan glanced at him.  He scooted over and made room for the eldest twin.  The silence was awkward for a few minutes.  Long had it been since the small family had gathered out here and the last time any of them could remember it happening, Elrond had sat in their midst.

“Elrohir says the gardens are more than you can handle,” Estel commented softly when he could stand the silence no longer.  He avoided the main topic of conversation.  “I think I can help there.”

Both twins glanced at the man, quietly waiting for him to continue.

“Many of the wood elves have remained behind to help Legolas rebuild Ithilien.  The work goes well and the reconstruction has been amazing.  I am sure that some of them would love to come to Imladris and help you here for a while.  I also have several master gardeners who are craftsmen in their own right.  Let me send you a couple of them.  Many Gondorians have a deep affinity for the elves and would love to assist you.  Let me help you,” he offered softly.

“It would be good to have more help.  The Beornings are pitiful when it comes to gardening,” Elrohir responded, laughing softly.

“Beoma’s great-grandchildren only excel at baking I’m afraid,” Elladan added.

“Even Pejor’s grandchildren are horrible with all things that grow,” Elrohir continued the conversation, “Although they all have their grandfather’s obnoxious trait of constantly speaking, Valar bless them!  I had no idea such things could be hereditary!”

The three brothers laughed at the memories that evoked.

“I think he even drove Ada to distraction when he visited,” Estel commented with a small laugh.  He glanced quickly out into the dark night avoiding the piercing gazes of his brothers.  The mention of his father brought back to the surface the painful subject that had gathered them on the quiet balcony in the first place.

“Estel, he loved you so much,” Elladan whispered softly, picking back up on their original conversation.  He reached out and touched the human.

“I never really told him goodbye,” Aragorn choked the words out.  “I couldn’t bear to go with him to the Grey Havens and watch him sail away.  Arwen begged not to and it was so easy to deny the truth.  I’ve never let it go either that I didn’t follow him there.”

“You must,” Elrohir insisted quietly.  “Ada would not have you grieve that he is in Valinor.  He and Naneth are together now and they are very happy.  He would want you to live and enjoy life as well.  You can pen him a letter telling him how you feel and we will see to it that the great eagles take it with them on their next migration.  He would love to hear from you, I am sure.”

“Estel, Ada is very proud of you.  He told us himself when we accompanied him to the Havens,” Elladan continued reassuring their youngest brother.  He stood and walked to the balustrade leaning the small of his back against the cool stone.  “Don’t regret your decisions; Ada doesn’t.  Accompanying him to the harbor was the hardest thing we have ever had to do.  I actually heard the call of the gull that day.  It was all I could do to return here.  But I knew our time in Middle-earth had not yet come to pass.  You are here still, as is Arwen.  We could not leave you both alone.  I always felt guilty for causing Ada grief about our decision.”

Aragorn was fighting a losing battle with hiding his emotions.   Elrohir gently wrapped his arms around the human and pulled him close.

“I am glad that you have stayed.  It has been difficult the past few years.  They have been good but hard and busy and I have not let myself take time to grieve.  I could not; there were always too many responsibilities.” Aragorn sniffed softly, pouring out his heart, “I repressed the hurt. I always knew in my mind that he was safe, free from pain and horror and with Naneth.  I know he is happy but my heart never accepted the loss.  I still hardly can.  What kind of a world is it where you are separated from those you love?” Aragorn’s pained whisper tore at the hearts of his brothers.  He had told Legolas he was sure they would not be parted by death, but truthfully he doubted he would see his family and friends beyond the grave.  It was not the lot of Men or so he had always been taught.

His brothers at least would have the opportunity to go and live with their father, but they would lose their sister and human brother in the process.  They had no answers and they wondered if there even was a valid one.

“Why would Ilúvatar do that?”  Aragorn questioned further, burying his head against Elrohir’s shoulder. “Why do we have to love people only to lose them in the end?”

“I do not know, Estel,” Elrohir answered softly, “He has his reasons.  They must be good although I cannot fathom them just now.  Perhaps things truly are not as we see them.”

“I just want him back. For one day, one hour, one more minute just to tell him again that I love him and I miss him.  That’s all.”  Aragorn barely spoke as Elrohir rocked the man gently. “I miss his voice and his laughter.  I keep looking for him around every corner and yet he’ll never be here again.”

Elladan knelt once more in front of his brothers and gently pushed Elrohir back.  Placing his hands on either side of Aragorn’s face he forced the man to look at him.

“Look at me, Estel,” he demanded gently. “Ada is not here and he never will be again but he is not gone.  I heard you tell Legolas yourself that.  He is here,” Elladan spoke softly as he pressed his hand against the human’s heart.  “He will never leave here no matter where you are on Arda.  Many have been the nights El and I have both spoken the same words that you have, but we allowed the grief to come and we accepted it.  You, little brother, have pushed it away and bottled it up and you cannot live that way.”  Elladan’s soft smile eased Aragorn’s heart.  “It will tear you in two as surely as the call of the gull breaks an elf.”

“Ada taught you better than that,” Elrohir chided playfully, ruffling Aragorn’s hair.

“Yes he did,” Aragorn laughed softly.  “And, yes, I told Legolas that exact same thing not so long ago.”

“He obviously believes you.  Why won’t you believe?” Elladan asked as he sat back on his heels, his blue eyes pierced straight to Aragorn’s heart.  For a moment the human was positive he had heard his father’s voice ask the question and was gazing into Elrond’s eyes.

“Ada,” Aragorn barely whispered.  His thoughts and memories spiraled out of control as his mind wove back through his past.  Snatches of his father’s lectures resounded in his soul and his heart relaxed as memory upon memory cascaded through his mind.  His father was gone.  He would in all likelihood, as far as he knew, never see the elf again.  But Elrond lived.  As long as Aragorn lived, Elrond lived.  As long as the twins were this side of the Grey Haven, their father existed here in Middle-earth with them.  The pain didn’t lessen.  In fact for a brief moment it was more overwhelming and achingly lonely than it had been ever since Aragorn had returned to Rivendell.  He found himself holding his breath against the deep sorrow.

When the grief subsided and the human’s thoughts stopped clamoring for attention, Aragorn found himself once more gazing into Elladan’s worried eyes.

“Estel?”  Elrohir’s voice was tense.

The human let out the breath he had been holding and smiled slowly.

“You’re right.  He is here.  I know it now; he told me so,” Aragorn answered as he hugged Elladan to him.

The elf breathed a sigh of relief and let his younger brother rest against him for a moment.  “Do not do that again,” he cautioned. “You scared the life out of me.”

“It’s just that I could have sworn I heard Ada just now telling me he was here,” Aragorn commented.  He moved back from his brother and looked once more deeply into the twin’s eyes, but all he saw was Elladan.  His smile mirrored the confused one on the elven face.

The peace of the moment was broken as a quiet voice inquired of the trio, “Excuse me, Elladan?”

The voice belonged to Moranuen.  “A runner has just arrived with a message from Lothlórien.  He says that he precedes a great company.”

Moranuen stood just inside the doorway, holding a parchment roll in his hand.  When Elladan turned towards him and approached him, the elf handed over the message.

“Did you recognize this elf?”  Elrohir questioned.  Standing from the bench he walked up behind his twin and glanced over his shoulder.  Moranuen shook his head no in answer to the Elrohir’s question.

Elladan broke the seal and both elves read the contents, their eyes skimming quickly over the elegant letters.

Elladan let out a loud whoop embracing his twin.  Both were talking at the same time, completely excited.

“What!? What is it?”  Aragorn asked as he eagerly caught the letter Elladan was waving at him.  Elrohir was giving Moranuen instructions and everyone was suddenly talking and happy at once.

Stepping back near the glowglobe on the balustrade, Aragorn read the letter

_______________________

My dear Grandchildren,

As you know, Galadriel sailed with your father to Valinor some years ago now.  I and a large contingent of elves remained behind as our time in Middle-earth has not yet come to fruition.  The gulls do not call my name, but the nearness of my kinsmen tugs at my heart.  I know that Rivendell has fallen into slight disrepair.  With my beloved gone, the woods of Lothlórien no longer hold my passion as they once did.  I was hoping that you would honor me, by allowing myself and those who have remained with me to live in Rivendell and occupy its outer buildings until our time comes to leave.  We may be of some service in tending to the grounds and helping restore the Last Homely House.  I have sent Elurid on ahead of us to inform you of our intentions.  Please accept him on my behalf.

If the weather fares us well we will reach you a few days after you receive this letter.
I look forward to being with you both once again.  It has been too long since last you visited.

            Yours,

                  Celeborn
_______________________

 
“Lord Celeborn is coming?!” Aragorn asked incredulously.  He hadn’t seen the elder elf in ages and the prospect greatly cheered him.

“Will you stay on?” Elladan turned to the human, begging him to remain.

“Please, you must!”  Elrohir grabbed Aragorn’s forearms and shook him excitedly, “Grandfather would love to see you again!  Can you not be spared another week?”

“Legolas could use the rest,” Elladan prodded, smiling when the human frowned at him, “And so could you.”

It only took a second for Estel to make up his mind.

“Well...” Aragorn stalled causing the elves around him to groan, “I suppose Faramir and Éowyn will be able to run things in my absence for a bit longer.”  A wide smile broke across his face as the elves excitedly resumed talking all at once.

The twins followed Moranuen into the house, but Aragorn remained on the balcony.  Turning back to the wide-open veranda he walked to the stone railing and leaned hard against it.  The wind from the river below swept up the cliff face and blew the hair gently back from his face.

“I still you miss you, Ada,” he whispered silently into the night.  “I’m not sure I will ever not miss you.  But I know now that you are here and that you are happy and I will live life and enjoy it.  I promise.”  The man rested his head on his hands for a moment.

Elrohir had noticed Estel’s absence first and ran back to the balcony.  He stopped Elladan from making their presence known as the twin walked up beside him.  They heard their youngest brother’s confession and strained to hear what he said next.

“May the Valar keep you, Ada.  And may they someday let me see you again if only once for a brief moment, for I would tell you one more time that I love you and I always will.”  Aragorn’s words were swept away by the night breezes.  They were barely audible to the two elves that watched him closely.  “You have my love.”

Elrohir stepped silently out onto the balcony and approached the man.  His footsteps made no sound but the feel of another close by alerted Aragorn to the other’s presence.  Turing his head slightly he gazed sidelong at the elf that stopped next to him.

Elrohir didn’t say a word.  Placing his hand on the man’s back he gently kissed the human’s temple.

“And may they hear you, little brother,” Elladan answered for the both of them.  “Valinor would be boring indeed without you there.”

Aragorn returned the impish smile the older elf laid on him.

“Come, we have much to prepare!” Elladan laughed.  “And Grandfather cannot see you looking like this!”  The elf grabbed the edges of the wayward locks that fell into Aragorn’s eyes and flipped them back out of his face.

“I look fine!” the human protested.  This time when the elves left the balcony he was with them arguing about the state of his attire and whether or not a king should look like he did at the moment.

The pain was still there but it was receding, healing from the touch of an elf half a world away.  He still had a lot to work through, but Aragorn no longer felt so alone.  Rivendell and his life had just gotten a lot more crowded.  Eagerly he chased the twins down the stairs jostling to tell Legolas first as they burst back into the Hall of Fire.

Rivendell would not sit empty, not yet.  And even if they must leave and go back to the life and duties that awaited them in the south, Aragorn knew that as long as he knew this place was filled with warmth, love and light, some corner of his heart would always be filled as well.

Next: Epilogue
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