Homecoming

AN: This is an AU slash fic, based on but not wholly faithful to Romeo and Juliet. I hope you enjoy reading this, and can take the time to review!

Two Elven lands of great renown;

The Woodland Realm and Rivendell.

In ancient feuding, they were bound –

Here's their tale to tell.

Two star-crossed lovers in mutiny,

Hoped the rift to mend.

But who shall know what destiny

Shall be theirs in the end?

The autumn leaves of Rivendell fell tumbling from the trees and Aragorn let out a reverent breath as he once again surveyed the scene before him.

'Home,' he murmured in rare contentment. 'Long has it been since I laid eyes on anything so fair.'

Aragorn stood gazing at the gardens being tended by the elf-maids of Rivendell. He seemed unmindful of the fact that he had just arrived, and was standing by the entrance of the last homely house in worn garb of ill repair. Travel dust lay thickly on his skin and in his hair, and several days worth of stubble shadowed his cheek.

'I'd wager that it's not our humble dwelling you find so fair – but one elf-maid who dwells within,' came a friendly voice, and Aragorn spun around.

'Elladan!' he cried, giving his foster brother a rough embrace.

The elf returned the embrace, then gracefully stepped back to get a better look at the man.

'You've grown,' he said fondly. Then he eyed Aragorn's dishevelled state and laughed. 'And so has your hair, and so has your beard!'

'Peace, Elladan!' Aragorn grinned. 'It's been nigh on three years since I saw you last, and eighteen months since I saw any who could tell me from a mountain goat.'

A second elf, identical in face and form to the first, joined them and raised a fine dark eyebrow. 'Who's to say we can tell you from one now, Estel?'

Aragorn laughed aloud at that, and exchanged punches on the shoulder with the new arrival – their own private greeting.

'By Elbereth, it is good to see you again, Elrohir!' he said.

'Brother is right – you have grown, Estel,' mused Elrohir, rubbing absently at his shoulder.

'I am no longer a green youth, Elrohir,' replied Aragorn with more than a hint of satisfaction. 'I have seen twenty three summers, and by the reckoning of Men, I have come to age and then some.'

'Ah, well, yes – but you are among Elves here, and by our standards you are a veritable child! Not yet old enough to be out of swaddling cloths – ' Elrohir pretended to sniff at the air in disgust. 'Estel, are you sure you're old enough to be out of swaddling cloths?'

Elladan's sudden laughter could not be quelled, even when Aragorn shot him a murderous look.

'Peace,' he managed to gasp out, one hand holding his aching side, the other attempting to fend off an indignant Aragorn. 'Why are you taking it out on me?' he protested with exaggerated innocence. 'Elrohir was the one who said it!'

'Because,' said Elrohir smoothly, 'Estel knows well enough that I'd best him in any combat you could name!'

'We will soon find out!' growled Aragorn, turning on Elrohir. The elf neatly sidestepped the kick aimed at his lower regions, and smiling, shook his head. His burnished ebony hair shone in the fading light with the movement.

'While I have missed you, Estel, as much as you seem to have missed me, this is hardly the time to try our strengths. You have just arrived, and the Hall will hold supper in less than an hour. Come, and Elladan and I will see what we can do to make you appear presentable before Father tonight.'

'I am perfectly presentable –' began Aragorn hotly, but Elladan cut him off.

'Arwen will be at supper as usual, I suppose?' he said nonchalantly.

Both elves watched Aragorn turn a bright shade of red.

'I'd be happy for your help in making myself presentable,' he said in a strangled voice.

'That's my boy,' said Elladan tranquilly.

~~*~~

The slight awkwardness that Aragorn felt at being in civilized company again after so many years in the Wild, was nothing compared to what he felt when the Evenstar appeared in the hall, escorted by her father, the Lord Elrond.

Arwen was dressed in a deep red gown which shimmered in the plentiful candlelight. Her dark hair fell in rich waves to her waist, unbound but for the tiny pattern of braids which was the mark of Rivendell. Her eyes –  the clear, sparkling blue of winter ice – were framed by long dusky lashes. They were grave as they looked around the hall, but then she smiled, and Aragorn felt his heart constrict at the sight of her.

'Elbereth – she is beautiful,' he whispered.

'You are not the first to think so,' remarked Elrohir, who was well used to elves and men alike being bewitched by the beauty of his sister.

Aragorn ignored the comment. This close to Arwen, he could smell the lavender and rosemary scent of her hair. The thought made his throat tighten. Although he was famished after so long on travel provisions, he could find no appetite for the fine food of Rivendell.

He followed her lithe form with his eyes as she glided over to the other elf-maids and they stood in a group, quietly talking and laughing. Aragorn was entranced by her radiant figure, standing out richly amongst even the beauty of the other elven women. Once she happened to glance his way, and their eyes met for a moment.

Aragorn's breath caught at that moment, and it seemed to him that while the world around them swirled and eddied, the space between him and Arwen was crystallized as they shared that single glance. Then Arwen turned her face, and the heavy silk curtain of her hair broke the moment. Aragorn's breath exploded – he hadn't realised that he had been holding it.

Elladan nudged him indiscreetly. 'We know she's beautiful, Estel – there's no need to make a statement by acting like a pole-axed ox.'

'Save your affections for one who will return them,' said Elrohir curtly.

Aragorn turned to his foster brother, surprised at the tone of his voice, and more than a little irked.

'What mean you, Elrohir?' he demanded quietly.

'I mean,' said Elrohir with barely restrained frustration, 'that there is no use lusting after Arwen, except to amuse yourself when you're…lonely.' The seemingly innocent remark was given a decidedly dirty connotation by the tone of Elrohir's voice.

Aragorn flushed red and was about to give an angry retort when Elladan intervened.

'Brother is right,' he said, as tactfully as he could. 'Many there are who lust after our sister the Evenstar, but none there are who can hold her heart. For she has vowed to remain a maiden always, and intends to be a maiden still when at last we sail for the West.'

Aragorn shook his head. 'It's not like that,' he protested. 'If I could have but a few words with her, Arwen would know that I am different.'

Elrohir snorted. 'Think you, Estel, that the others have simply waltzed up to her and declared their unbridled lust? I know that the brain of men is a poor instrument at times, and that you tend more to think with other…tools…but I beg of you! Try to think clearly for once.'

Aragorn stood angrily, pushing back his chair. The meal had turned slowly into a dance, and his commotion went for the most part unnoticed.

'I would have hoped, Elrohir, that I would have had your blessing when finally I fell in love,' he said coldly.

'And you shall!' exclaimed Elrohir in frustration. 'But this is not love, this is – ugh!' Elrohir growled in vexation as Aragorn, not willing to listen any further, turned on his heel and stalked away.

Elladan touched his brother's shoulder in commiseration. 'Estel is still young, Elrohir,' he said. 'He will learn.'

But Elrohir frowned as he watched the retreating form of the man they had helped raise from childhood. 'I have a bad feeling about this, Elladan,' he said darkly.

~~*~~

The evening breeze helped cool Aragorn's anger as he slowed his pacing. Although he hated to admit it, Elrohir's words stung. He rubbed at his newly shaved jaw, deep in thought. His wandering steps took him to the bridge of Rivendell. Twilight obscured much of the view, but Aragorn stood looking over the lights of Rivendell anyway.

A slight movement on the far side of the bridge caught his eye, and Aragorn felt his heart race absurdly at the sight. Arwen lingered on the bridge, alone. It seemed that she too, was keen to have some solitude, but probably not, Aragorn reflected ruefully, for the same reason he was.

He wondered whether he dared speak to her – Elrohir could very well be right. He had known his sister for a very long time…. But his newly won sense of confidence and pride would not be silenced. Aragorn stepped softly to the still figure of Arwen.

'Good evening,' he said quietly, trying to believe that he was actually speaking to her.

To his relief, Arwen turned to face him, and smiled her lovely smile.

'It is a beautiful night,' she agreed, her voice melodic and calm.

'Not as beautiful as you,' Aragorn blurted, and went red yet again. Three hours in Rivendell, and already I feel as awkward as a teenage girl.

But Arwen merely inclined her head. 'It is kind of you to say so, Estel.'

There was a silence between them that was not completely comfortable, but neither was it strained. It was an air of expectation.

'Arwen,' he began, and hope shone in his voice. He reached out with a hesitant hand, and gently touched a lock of her hair.

Her delicate hand came up to rest on his own calloused one. 'Aragorn,' she said, a trace of resignation in her voice. 'I think…I think I know what it is you have to say, and…'

He saw the sadness in her eyes – he did not want to imagine it was pity – and hope fled him.

'Why?' he asked, very quietly.

Arwen looked at him, saw the dejection in his eyes, and cursed the beauty which had been bestowed upon her. I did not ask to be an enchantress of men's minds! she thought in frustration.

'Is it because I am not an elf?'

'Nay,' said Arwen softly. 'Were you elf or man, I would still love you as I do now – as a brother. And were you elf or man, I would still love you no better, for I have sworn by Elbereth that I shall remain forever a maiden.'

'But I love you,' Aragorn was about to say, but she forestalled him by placing a slender finger on his lips before he could form the worlds.

'There is, I think, a great love waiting for you,' Arwen said. 'Such beauty and passion and goodness is not to be wasted.'

'But if that is so, will you not reconsider your vow?' asked Aragorn.

Arwen shook her head, and Aragorn saw in the determined set of her chin that she would not be persuaded, no matter how much his heart yearned to be with her.

'Trust me,' Arwen said gently. 'For you, a love as great as any history has ever seen, will come. I have looked into the Mirror of Galadriel, and I know this to be true.' She smiled at him, and moved to plant a friendly kiss on his hand. But Aragorn looked down at her with pain-filled eyes, and jerked his hand from hers.

'If I cannot have your favour, my Lady,' he said bitterly, 'then at least have the grace not to tempt me further.'

And saying such, Aragorn turned away and walked off without looking back, completely intent on getting so drunk he would no longer remember his own name, let alone hers.