This was going to be part of my Elrond and Bilbo thing, but it was so not about either of them that I changed my mind. And yeah.

Enjoy! :)

"Father?"

Aragorn welcomed his young son into his lap, setting aside the ledger he had been verifying. "This is an unexpected visit. I thought you were playing with Elanor?"

Eldarion shrugged. "She got busy and I wanted to see you."

"I'm glad you came. I was just beginning to feel cooped up."

Eldarion fidgeted in his arms and tugged on his beard. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a large tapestry on the wall behind Aragorn. It was a huge, ornately designed family tree.

Aragorn turned. "Ah, that's a tapestry your mother brought from Im-from her old home. Her mother made it."

Eldarion's eyes were wide. "Who are they?"

"It's your family," chuckled Aragorn. "See, there's your mother," He pointed to Arwen, who had a small smirk on her face as she contemplated something weighty. That's what it looked like to Aragorn, anyway. "And there's me." Arwen had added Aragorn only the year after the move to Gondor.

"Where am I?" Eldarion looked seriously worried.

"I'll have your mother add you. It takes time, you know, to make a tapestry."

He looked comforted. "Father...who are all of them?"

He pointed to all the faces above Aragorn and Arwen. Elven faces stern and fair mingled with the proud, strong faces of Men. Aragorn was, not for the first time, humbled by the lineage of his loving wife.

"They are your ancestors, the greatest Kings of Middle-Earth. There is Finwë, the first High-King, and Turgon, King of Gondolin, and Thingol, King of Doriath. There is Fingon the Valiant, who rescued Maedhros the Maimed, and Finrod Felagund, who laid down his life for Beren One-handed."

"Who was he?"

Aragorn smiled softly, for he'd always had a fondness for that man who had won the heart of an Elf. "That is a story for another time."

"Did you ever know any of them?"

Aragorn's smile faltered. "I did." He tapped the spot directly above Arwen, where her father was.

"Elrond Half-elven," he sighed. "Your grandfather."

Aragorn studied Elrond's face, looking at it closely for the first time since Elrond had sailed for Valinor. It was a good likeness, showing the Lord at the height of his strength, all hard lines and proud features. Even his widow's peak was sharp and angled, although Aragorn could see a mischievous gleam in Elrond's eye. A gleam that had been missing the last few years he had known the Lord of Imladris. Aragorn's heart pained him to remember why that was.

"Father," said Eldarion in a small voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," reassured Aragorn. "I was just remembering."

"Was my grandfather a bad man?" asked Eldarion, confused.

"No, not at all. Firstly, he was no man. He was...probably the strongest Elf I ever met. He was a good father, to both your mother and I. I was only sad because...well, the last time we met, he was in a lot of pain, and it was sort of my fault."

Eldarion poked him in the leg. "Bad father! Why'd you hurt grandpa?"

"I fell in love with your mother," replied Aragorn calmly, lifting Eldarion up and twirling him around. "And he lost her forever. He was tired, you see, and had to leave Middle-Earth forever, while she came here to Gondor."

"Awww," sighed Eldarion. "So that's why I've never met him?

"Exactly."

"I wish he could have stayed here in Gondor with us," pouted Eldarion. "He would've liked it here. He couldn't met me."

"Oh, my son," said Aragorn, holding his son in his arms. "He would have loved you."

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