If ever there was a day that should rain, then this was it. The low gloomy thunder clouds hanging over Rivendale perfectly matched Elrond's mood. He stood as silent as a statue on the balcony of his room watching his beloved land getting drenched. His pale hands rested calmly on the low rails but his mind was anything but calm. Something was going on and the feeling of that premonition was so strong that he just couldn't sleep although it was midnight.
A sudden anxiety rose at his throat as he heard even before he saw riders approaching. A rider was running ahead of the rest of them, which simply meant one thing. Someone was wounded. The Lord of Rivendale in an involuntary gesture tightened his jaws. One day his sons are going to find him dead when they come back, just from sheer anxiety. He rushed to the healing chambers and lit the lamps. Chunwe, his assistant who slept in the wards, woke up and without a word took over where Elrond left. The lord gave him a greatful smile that died almost as soon as it began and walked towards the main hall. His sons have arrived and Elrond let out a breath as he saw both of them with all their limbs intact making their way towards the stairs.
"Elladan", Elrond called
Both his sons turned around in unison as if one of them carried an invisible mirror with him. Elrond always smiled when he saw his sons behave like that, but his smile faltered when he saw their faces. Elrohir had his brows furrowed and so did Elladan.
Elrond raised a brow, even as Elrohir started to speak.
"We lost Arathon ada. Orcs…"
"But you must come quickly ada" Elladan looked imploringly at him.
So there were wounded. Even as Elrond followed his sons, He remembered a respectable young man leaving Rivendale with a spring to his steps. Arathon always looked carefree in Rivedale.
The clouds were pouring their hearts out and Elrond heard a small wimper. Curious, he hastened his steps towards something Glorfindel was bouncing on his strong arms. Next he heard a childish giggle and Elrond's heart took a spin. A child?
"Arathon's son ada. Gilerian is with the rangers. And we thought it best to bring young Aragon with us here"
Ellandan's words said one thing but his voice said a hundred other things, Guilt, fear, anxiety but most of all an emotion as of yet unidentified when he said young Aragon. Elrond looked at his sons and saw that Elrohir if he had said the words would have sounded the same way as his brother.
Glorfindel turned as he heard them and Elrond had to smile as the balrog slayer grimaced as a lock of golden strands was pulled viciously by small hands. Another giggle escaped and suddenly Elrond forgot the rain. Hazel eyes turned to him and he locked eyes with the young boy, the rest of the world seemed to have disappeared. As sure as a bolt of lightning, Elrond knew that his life will never be the same again.
Those eyes looked at him imploringly for a minute and then in a sudden childish rush they widened impossibly. The small hands freed their golden prisoners much to Glorfindel's relief. If Elrond had looked around, he would have seen the hesitant smiles playing out on his sons' face, a miracle that has happened after 342 years. But Elrond was waiting and in a moment when two small arms reached out to him, he took a step forward and caught the child in a warm hug.