It's late at night when the realization hits him.

He's been wondering why he suddenly feels so alone in this place that once brought him only joy. Rivendell has always been a place of comfort and childhood, and home. But this time, although he is happy to see his brothers and he knows his son is having the time of his life here, this visit has been strange. There's been a strange, hollow feeling that has been growing inside him since they'd arrived two days ago. A feeling of wrongness. Now he realizes what it is.

Elrond is not here.

Aragorn knew that he wouldn't be. He had even thought he had grieved for his adopted father after the elf had sailed. Valar, Arwen had wept for days, agonized over her decision to stay and been inconsolable for a week. He had known that Elrond would not be at Rivendell, would not be there to welcome him home.

But still...

In Gondor he can pretend that Elrond is still here. Still laughing and healing and being himself. Still here in Middle Earth, still lecturing young elves and still reading ancient texts in his study. In Gondor he can pretend that he was off on some other mission, and that he would see elrond again.

But he can't do that anymore.

Because he's here, he's home and there is no one here to comfort him the way he needs it most, no one here to simply look at him and understand, no one who can soothe his hurts with a simple touch or a comforting embrace.

"Estel?"

He turns, automatically. In Gondor he is rarely called by his childhood name, in fact only Legolas or occasionally Arwen will use the endearment. But here, of all places, the name fits him.

Elladan is standing in the doorway of Aragorn's bedroom. He is in his nightclothes, but his dark hair is still braided back, and he is still wearing his boots. He looks, Aragorn reflected, exactly the same as he had been when Aragorn had been a young child. The years hadn't changed his brother at all.

"Estel, what is troubling you?" Seeing the twist in his younger brother's expression, Elladan steps forward, close enough to reach out and put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. Aragorn desperately wants him too, he wants to be comforted, he wants to be embraced like a child.

But he is a man now, he's grown and it's been months since Elrond sailed. So he turns away, and says softly, "Nothing, Elladan, just thinking."

The elf's voice is unbelievably gentle. "About Ada?"

Aragorn sucks in a startled breath, lets it out. He should have known his brother would know his grief. He had never been able to hide anything from Elladan. "Yes," the word is a whisper, barely an exhale of breath, but he knows the elf will hear it.

"Oh, Estel..." his brother's voice is sad, gentle, and Aragorn sense him take two more steps closer. His hand brushes the small of Aragorn's back.

"I know that it's been months," Aragorn says, still in the same breathless whisper. "I know that, and I know that he is happy in Valinor. It's just..." His voice catches. "He's not here. Sometimes I think I hear his laugh or his voice in the wind, but he is not here. He's supposed to be here, and..." Shaking his head, Aragorn clears his throat, swallows back the tears. "It feels so wrong. Losing him, it's like...it's like there's a part of me that's been torn away and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what to do anymore, Dan. I'm lost. I'm alone and I'm lost. He's not here anymore. He's not here to whisper words to ease my sleep or heal all of my wounds. He's just gone and it's so wrong." He turns to face his brother and sees that Elladan is crying too, silently. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, catching in his hair, gleaming like silver on his pale cheeks.

"Oh Estel," He whispers, and closes the distance between them to pull Aragorn into his arms.

Aragorn relaxes against his brother the instant the elf's arms go around him. He sinks into the embrace, buries his head in Elladan's shoulder and let's him hold him. It takes him a moment to realize that he is sobbing, the breath sawing harshly in and out of his lungs with each strangles exhale.

Elladan's hands are stroking his hair, rubbing his back, as he had done when Aragorn had been a small child. "Shhh...shhh tithen pen," the elvish flows into Aragorn's ears like a soothing lullaby, and presses his cheek into his brother's hair, sighing. "Amin hiraetha, Estel," He whispers, over and over. "Amin hiraetha..." I'm sorry, Estel, I'm sorry...

They sit like that for unmeasurable amount of time until Elladan finally whispers. "Well, Estel, I think we've created a river."

Aragorn manages a choked laugh and pulls away from his brother, pressing his palms against his eyes. It is always Elladan, and not his twin, who always make him laugh.

"Elrohir can clean it up," he whispers, and takes a deep, trembling breath, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. He swallows hard, and blinks several times to clear the excess saltwater from his eyes. "Hannon le," he breathes to his brother, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from Elladan's cheek with his thumb. "For everything."

The elf smiles. "Anytime, little brother." He hesitates, before saying gently, "I know that coming back here was difficult for you, Estel, and I know that you have not fully faced your grief. But I know that Ada is proud of you, and he is proud of what you've become. And, he is still here," Elladan tilts his face up to the ceiling and breathes deeply. The moonlight washes across his features, bathing him in silver. To Aragorn, he had never looked more familiar, or more young. "You can feel him...in the garden, in the laugh of the river and the whisper of the trees. "

Aragorn closes his eyes and mimics his brother's position. Instead of reaching out with his sense, he reaches deep into the depths of his memories, conjuring up images of Elrond, not as the rest of Middle Earth saw him-a powerful, clever and serious leader, but as the father Aragorn, or rather Estel knew him to be.

The images flash so quickly behind his eyes that he doesn't even fully comprehend them. What he does understand are the emotions behind them: humor, comfort, love, sadness, joy, pain, joy, love.

Elladan's hand squeezes his shoulder, gently. "He truly does love you, Estel." He whispers. "You know that."

"I do," Aragorn says, and turns to look at his brother. "And that's why it hurts so much."

Elladan nods. "Yes," he says, and stands. "But that's how you know it was worth everything." he bends, and presses his lips gently to Aragorn's forehead. He smells like rain and dirt and Aragorn's childhood. "Goodnight, little brother," Elladan whispers, and turns, leaving Aragorn alone in the dark.

Throwing his head back so it's resting against one of the pillows, Aragorn sighs, long and deep. Elrond is no longer here, and although that will always tear and ache and hurt him, he knows that the pain he is experiencing is worth the love of his adopted father. Those years he had spent as Estel under Elrond's care had been the happiest of his live, and he wouldn't change a second of them.

Closing his eyes, Aragorn allows his mind to drift to the past while the sweet sound of elven laughter echoes in his ears. He think he hears Elrond's deep laugh twining through the laughter of his twin brothers, and he fastens onto the sound, bathes himself in it, until he is smiling through the tears that slip down his cheeks.

Arwen comes to him, later that night after ensuring that Eldarion is truly asleep. She slips in beside him and wraps her arms around him. "I heard you weeping, melleth nin," She breathes in his ear and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Am I right that the twins comforted you?"

"Yes," Aragorn whispers back, and pulls her closer. She smells like summer and laughter and everything he holds dear in the world.

She tilts her chin up so she can look him straight in the eye. "Are you going to be alright?"

He smiles at her concern and kisses her again. "Yes," He says, "I think I will be."