Pairing: Elrond/Aragorn
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the storyline.
Author's Note: This is set years before LoTR. I've read the books ages ago, so forgive me if I step wrong with my facts or references. But Aragorn is still Estel, staying with his foster family and riding with Elladan and Elrohir on patrols and such. He's very young here, enough to be uncertain and nervy.
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The moment that horses' hooves could be heard thudding dully over springy turf, Arwen jumped off her seat on the side of the clearing and made to the middle, hoping to catch her returning siblings on their way home. Elrond was clearly not in any hurry to do the same, but he sat back and watched indulgently. After all, his Evenstar had been so excited about this day that he hadn't the heart to spoil her mood.
Three horses burst into the clearing, pulling to a practised stop as the two elves and one mortal youth caught sight of their welcoming committee.
"Arwen!" Elladan laughed, leaning down precariously to clasp her arm.
Elrond bit back a warning to be careful and stood up slowly. His watchful eyes lingered on each son in turn, finally coming to rest on Aragorn. The youth, however, had his eyes fixed on Arwen and was... currently trying very hard not to let Elrond know he was hurt.
"Estel," the Elf Lord called imperiously, "You are wounded?"
Aragorn glanced down, quickly shaking his head and getting awkwardly off the horse. He favoured his right side as much as he was able and only the twins saw him wince with the searing pain of an arrow-wound. "Tis nothing," he said thickly, turning to offer a tight smile, "A small scratch."
An elegantly dark eyebrow lifted.
"All right, it is a little more than a scratch but it is almost healed," Aragorn sighed, "You have taught me some healing ways, you know."
Elrond pursed his lips in displeasure. Were men always this stubborn or was it just this particular breed? Aragorn never willing spoke of injury, often resulting in getting even worse, as had happened with a feverish illness not four years before. The boy had almost died! "I will take a look at it when we reach the house. The human body is not as strong as the elvish one. And do not ride at such speeds; it will do you no good and Imladris goes nowhere."
Aragorn looked at the grass beneath his feet. It had interesting patterns, he thought dully. And just his luck, he had to be the only one who came back with wounds. Only a four-week patrol and he had to show his human weaknesses... again!
Elrond felt accusing eyes on him. He raised his head to the identical warnings on the faces of both of his sons. With the feeling that something beyond him was taking place, he gave a slight frown. Which did no good because Estel happened to look up at that moment and then looked quickly away again, a pained expression on his face. That, Elrond needed no one to disapprove of.
Aragorn was startled when delicately long fingers suddenly raised his face to meet a smiling grey gaze.
"Ion nin, I do not mean to disparage you or your skills," Elrond said gently, trying to show his apology as openly as was possible for him, "I merely wish to check for poison. I am sure you did all that was necessary."
Aragorn gave him a quick twist of the lips, the sorrow leaving his eyes almost instantly at the kind words.
Except... except the elf also noticed that a deeper sorrow shone through, something he'd seen often in Aragorn's eyes but never been able to pinpoint. "I care for you, Estel," Elrond said quietly, "I am glad you are home."
"I am glad to be back, Ada," Aragorn said carefully.
The clearing was still and silent as Elrond made his excuses to go back to his work and left. Even the trees had stopped whispering in their attention to this strange little scene between man and elf, foster son and foster father. And Arwen was stunned when Aragorn finally slumped and got painfully back on his horse.
"Ada?" Elrohir echoed, grey eyes sympathetic and understanding.
Elladan helped Arwen to mount behind him but added his own comments- "You will have to tell him sometime, Estel. The sooner he knows the better will such tensions ease."
Aragorn smiled his now- typical bitter smile and shook his dark head. "Whatever lies in my heart will stay there. Ada he is and Ada he will remain. He wants nothing more from the human child he has raised."
Arwen was quickly catching on, but apart from a quiet gasp of surprise, she said nothing, merely staring with big eyes and seeing truths she'd never thought to see. That her brothers knew wasn't a surprise; patrols such as the last one threw them very much together and encouraged a closeness that soon revealed such things.
"You are old enough," Elladan argued, gesturing impatiently with his hands, "You have your majority and it is only fair to tell him. And you are no mere child; you are the heir to Gondor. Should the Lord of Imladris be willing, both will benefit from such an alliance."
Elrohir rolled his eyes at his twin's heavy-handedness. "What my eloquent brother means to say is- perhaps such a relationship is not as forbidden as you think. But whether you want to tell him is your business. Personally, I see your point that it will do no good. Ada would only worry that he would hurt you."
Aragorn said nothing, merely twitching his horse into a gentle canter away from the clearing. His brothers would not understand, and Arwen's face was already registering the kind of shock that he knew any elf would feel if they but guessed. His side was aching with a dull throb and he longed to race home quickly- even in the fresh bursts of pain- if only to lie down and stop thinking. But Elrond had commanded it, and Aragorn would no more disobey a concerned order from him than he could hope to stop loving him. -------------------------------------------
Elrond was frankly quite worried. He had work piled up and his mind filled with a half-a-dozen things he needed to finish before sunset and still his thoughts were only wrapped around one problem- Estel... what had gone wrong?
The Elf Lord sat back in his chair, glaring morosely at the half-written missive to Lothlorien in front of him as he tried to think things through. He hadn't meant to insult the boy, but lately everything he said was creating tensions between them so thick Elrond was certain a blunt sword could cut them. If he showed concern, Estel looked unhappy. If he tried to hide his concern, Estel looked downright miserable. What was he doing wrong?
The knock at the door was somewhat thankful in the circumstances. Except that it was Estel.
"You said you wanted to check for poison," Aragorn blurted, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway.
Elrond nodded, put a pleasantly blank look on his face and gestured to a chair. "Sit, ion nin. It will only take a short time and will doubtless be unnecessary."
Aragorn nodded absently and sat, eyes fixed on the floor so that he wouldn't have to look at Elrond's face. Or his hands. Or his hair. Or the rest of him. There wasn't a part of his foster father he didn't desire and need. Which was exactly what had got him in trouble with the twins the year before- he'd inadvertently cried out aloud in his sleep. He'd also received a black eye from Elladan for his troubles.
"... Estel? Aragorn!"
"Yes! I'm sorry, what?"
Elrond was currently standing over him, an odd look in his eyes. "Take off your shirt," he repeated for the fourth time.
Aragorn stopped himself from blushing but couldn't hide the tremble in his fingers. And it wasn't just from the closeness of his love either! The injury had opened slightly on the edges and blood was dripping freely down the side.
Elrond sighed and went down on his knees to better see it. He didn't notice the consternation on the human's face, or bother overmuch when he pushed Estel's knees apart so as to get closer.
Aragorn was hysterically convinced he'd died and this was heaven! But a frightening heaven, if that- for surely Elrond did not kneel to anyone? Hell, if he knew what his son was thinking as they assumed this innocent position, he'd doubtless banish Aragorn from Imladris all together.
It took too long and ended far too soon. Within seconds Elrond had applied the aloe and wrapped the injury again. He stood up, went back to his bottles and pots and extracted a powder, which he dissolved in a glass of water.
"Drink this," he ordered gently, "It will help prevent any fevers."
Aragorn obediently drank it down and then stood up to go back to his room. He was light-headed and exhausted, a lethal combination with heartache, and meant to sleep for an eternity. But eternity suddenly stopped its relentless march when the glass slipped from his fingers and he pitched forward in a semi-faint.
Elrond grabbed him just before he fell, cushioning his head on a broad shoulder and wrapping strong arms around his slender waist. Cursing silently in his head, he whispered soothing words in the boy's ear, petting him until the dizziness passed. He could feel the exhaustion leaking from Aragorn's pores, could hear the almost sluggish beat of his heart where it pressed against his own. Moreover, his sharp ears caught a whimper of pain that cut him to the quick. Seeing any of his children in this condition was terrifying, and Aragorn seemed to be having enough troubles of his own.
"Estel, have you eaten lately," he asked severely, remembering the too-thin look of the human's torso, "You are practically starved, little one. Come! In here!" Aragorn made a weak sound of protest. "No arguments, Estel. You will do as I tell you."
He took his burden into his bedroom and helped him into the bed, refraining very much from fussing with covers because he knew from experience how Estel had hated that, even as a child. "Lie still. But do not sleep yet; I will call for some food to be brought. You will eat and rest here until tomorrow."
"But, Elrond, I..." Grey eyes sharpened to the piercing strength of diamonds. Aragorn stiffened, wide-eyed as he realized what he'd done. "I- I mean, Ada... I'm fine. If I could be helped to my own bed, I'll rest there. You do not need to bother with me."
"Estel, you cannot be wandering the halls in that condition. And of course, I bother about you; your ride back has obviously not helped to heal that wound. It is nothing to be ashamed of, but the fact is that you do not have elven healing. You need time, penneth. And until I am satisfied that you will not fall over on a simple walk, you will stay here."
"No," Aragorn argued mulishly, struggling up from the bed and fighting the light-headed feeling of blood loss as well the older elf's hands.
"Aragorn, lie still!"
"No! I will not stay here in your bed!"
"Why is it so hard for you to accept my help?" Elrond snapped suddenly, losing his temper completely for a few frazzled minutes. He wasn't trying to hold the child hostage, but dammit, he trying to help! "As a healer, I will not have you do what your body cannot stand. As a father, I am..."
"You are not my father," Aragorn retorted back, dark eyes blazing with an emotion half-anger, half-need, "You are not my father and you were not my father and you never will be my father!"
A quick indrawn breath and Elrond went still, not being able to guard against such hurt. After all these years and all the childhood memories, he simply couldn't understand it! Had Estel always felt like this? He didn't remember seeing the child opposed to his care before. Indeed, Estel had seemed to rejoice in it more than any other, a flattering and soothing position for the Elf Lord to be in.
"Why?" he finally asked, his eyes full of sadness, "What have I done that was so wrong?"
"It is not you," Aragorn muttered, sliding his hands over his face, "You were the best father a child could have. But you are not my father. You only act like it."
"But Estel, I have not been acting. I care for you as my child and as such I treat you. If there is a problem I had hoped you would come to me with it. If you are injured, I would treat you myself. I watch for your safety and well-being. My heart aches for your troubles and has pride for your achievements. How much more of a father can I be?"
Aragorn shook his head silently, the tears clenched behind tightly closed eyes. He wished he'd never come to Elrond; he wished he'd brought one of the twins with him; he wished Legolas were here so he could talk to his friend. Moreover, he wished he hadn't been the cause of that bewildered pain in the voice of the one being he'd give his life to safe from harm.
"Estel?"
Aragorn kept his eyes shut and did not answer.
Elrond sighed once more, daring to reach out a finger and trace a soft line on the hollowed cheek. Troubles there were, and they would be dealt with. For now, Estel needed his sleep. Even eating could wait until he was fully rested. So deciding, the elf got to his feet and left the room, firmly ordering himself not to turn back when the soft gasp of heartbroken crying filtered out of the room.
A young Aragorn is finding it very hard to keep his shaming secret to himself. And of course Elrond is oblivious. What happens when Aragorn needs Elrond to forget he was ever his foster father, and Elrond can't find a way to do so?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the storyline.
Author's Note: This is set years before LoTR. I've read the books ages ago, so forgive me if I step wrong with my facts or references. But Aragorn is still Estel, staying with his foster family and riding with Elladan and Elrohir on patrols and such. He's very young here, enough to be uncertain and nervy.
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The moment that horses' hooves could be heard thudding dully over springy turf, Arwen jumped off her seat on the side of the clearing and made to the middle, hoping to catch her returning siblings on their way home. Elrond was clearly not in any hurry to do the same, but he sat back and watched indulgently. After all, his Evenstar had been so excited about this day that he hadn't the heart to spoil her mood.
Three horses burst into the clearing, pulling to a practised stop as the two elves and one mortal youth caught sight of their welcoming committee.
"Arwen!" Elladan laughed, leaning down precariously to clasp her arm.
Elrond bit back a warning to be careful and stood up slowly. His watchful eyes lingered on each son in turn, finally coming to rest on Aragorn. The youth, however, had his eyes fixed on Arwen and was... currently trying very hard not to let Elrond know he was hurt.
"Estel," the Elf Lord called imperiously, "You are wounded?"
Aragorn glanced down, quickly shaking his head and getting awkwardly off the horse. He favoured his right side as much as he was able and only the twins saw him wince with the searing pain of an arrow-wound. "Tis nothing," he said thickly, turning to offer a tight smile, "A small scratch."
An elegantly dark eyebrow lifted.
"All right, it is a little more than a scratch but it is almost healed," Aragorn sighed, "You have taught me some healing ways, you know."
Elrond pursed his lips in displeasure. Were men always this stubborn or was it just this particular breed? Aragorn never willing spoke of injury, often resulting in getting even worse, as had happened with a feverish illness not four years before. The boy had almost died! "I will take a look at it when we reach the house. The human body is not as strong as the elvish one. And do not ride at such speeds; it will do you no good and Imladris goes nowhere."
Aragorn looked at the grass beneath his feet. It had interesting patterns, he thought dully. And just his luck, he had to be the only one who came back with wounds. Only a four-week patrol and he had to show his human weaknesses... again!
Elrond felt accusing eyes on him. He raised his head to the identical warnings on the faces of both of his sons. With the feeling that something beyond him was taking place, he gave a slight frown. Which did no good because Estel happened to look up at that moment and then looked quickly away again, a pained expression on his face. That, Elrond needed no one to disapprove of.
Aragorn was startled when delicately long fingers suddenly raised his face to meet a smiling grey gaze.
"Ion nin, I do not mean to disparage you or your skills," Elrond said gently, trying to show his apology as openly as was possible for him, "I merely wish to check for poison. I am sure you did all that was necessary."
Aragorn gave him a quick twist of the lips, the sorrow leaving his eyes almost instantly at the kind words.
Except... except the elf also noticed that a deeper sorrow shone through, something he'd seen often in Aragorn's eyes but never been able to pinpoint. "I care for you, Estel," Elrond said quietly, "I am glad you are home."
"I am glad to be back, Ada," Aragorn said carefully.
The clearing was still and silent as Elrond made his excuses to go back to his work and left. Even the trees had stopped whispering in their attention to this strange little scene between man and elf, foster son and foster father. And Arwen was stunned when Aragorn finally slumped and got painfully back on his horse.
"Ada?" Elrohir echoed, grey eyes sympathetic and understanding.
Elladan helped Arwen to mount behind him but added his own comments- "You will have to tell him sometime, Estel. The sooner he knows the better will such tensions ease."
Aragorn smiled his now- typical bitter smile and shook his dark head. "Whatever lies in my heart will stay there. Ada he is and Ada he will remain. He wants nothing more from the human child he has raised."
Arwen was quickly catching on, but apart from a quiet gasp of surprise, she said nothing, merely staring with big eyes and seeing truths she'd never thought to see. That her brothers knew wasn't a surprise; patrols such as the last one threw them very much together and encouraged a closeness that soon revealed such things.
"You are old enough," Elladan argued, gesturing impatiently with his hands, "You have your majority and it is only fair to tell him. And you are no mere child; you are the heir to Gondor. Should the Lord of Imladris be willing, both will benefit from such an alliance."
Elrohir rolled his eyes at his twin's heavy-handedness. "What my eloquent brother means to say is- perhaps such a relationship is not as forbidden as you think. But whether you want to tell him is your business. Personally, I see your point that it will do no good. Ada would only worry that he would hurt you."
Aragorn said nothing, merely twitching his horse into a gentle canter away from the clearing. His brothers would not understand, and Arwen's face was already registering the kind of shock that he knew any elf would feel if they but guessed. His side was aching with a dull throb and he longed to race home quickly- even in the fresh bursts of pain- if only to lie down and stop thinking. But Elrond had commanded it, and Aragorn would no more disobey a concerned order from him than he could hope to stop loving him. -------------------------------------------
Elrond was frankly quite worried. He had work piled up and his mind filled with a half-a-dozen things he needed to finish before sunset and still his thoughts were only wrapped around one problem- Estel... what had gone wrong?
The Elf Lord sat back in his chair, glaring morosely at the half-written missive to Lothlorien in front of him as he tried to think things through. He hadn't meant to insult the boy, but lately everything he said was creating tensions between them so thick Elrond was certain a blunt sword could cut them. If he showed concern, Estel looked unhappy. If he tried to hide his concern, Estel looked downright miserable. What was he doing wrong?
The knock at the door was somewhat thankful in the circumstances. Except that it was Estel.
"You said you wanted to check for poison," Aragorn blurted, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway.
Elrond nodded, put a pleasantly blank look on his face and gestured to a chair. "Sit, ion nin. It will only take a short time and will doubtless be unnecessary."
Aragorn nodded absently and sat, eyes fixed on the floor so that he wouldn't have to look at Elrond's face. Or his hands. Or his hair. Or the rest of him. There wasn't a part of his foster father he didn't desire and need. Which was exactly what had got him in trouble with the twins the year before- he'd inadvertently cried out aloud in his sleep. He'd also received a black eye from Elladan for his troubles.
"... Estel? Aragorn!"
"Yes! I'm sorry, what?"
Elrond was currently standing over him, an odd look in his eyes. "Take off your shirt," he repeated for the fourth time.
Aragorn stopped himself from blushing but couldn't hide the tremble in his fingers. And it wasn't just from the closeness of his love either! The injury had opened slightly on the edges and blood was dripping freely down the side.
Elrond sighed and went down on his knees to better see it. He didn't notice the consternation on the human's face, or bother overmuch when he pushed Estel's knees apart so as to get closer.
Aragorn was hysterically convinced he'd died and this was heaven! But a frightening heaven, if that- for surely Elrond did not kneel to anyone? Hell, if he knew what his son was thinking as they assumed this innocent position, he'd doubtless banish Aragorn from Imladris all together.
It took too long and ended far too soon. Within seconds Elrond had applied the aloe and wrapped the injury again. He stood up, went back to his bottles and pots and extracted a powder, which he dissolved in a glass of water.
"Drink this," he ordered gently, "It will help prevent any fevers."
Aragorn obediently drank it down and then stood up to go back to his room. He was light-headed and exhausted, a lethal combination with heartache, and meant to sleep for an eternity. But eternity suddenly stopped its relentless march when the glass slipped from his fingers and he pitched forward in a semi-faint.
Elrond grabbed him just before he fell, cushioning his head on a broad shoulder and wrapping strong arms around his slender waist. Cursing silently in his head, he whispered soothing words in the boy's ear, petting him until the dizziness passed. He could feel the exhaustion leaking from Aragorn's pores, could hear the almost sluggish beat of his heart where it pressed against his own. Moreover, his sharp ears caught a whimper of pain that cut him to the quick. Seeing any of his children in this condition was terrifying, and Aragorn seemed to be having enough troubles of his own.
"Estel, have you eaten lately," he asked severely, remembering the too-thin look of the human's torso, "You are practically starved, little one. Come! In here!" Aragorn made a weak sound of protest. "No arguments, Estel. You will do as I tell you."
He took his burden into his bedroom and helped him into the bed, refraining very much from fussing with covers because he knew from experience how Estel had hated that, even as a child. "Lie still. But do not sleep yet; I will call for some food to be brought. You will eat and rest here until tomorrow."
"But, Elrond, I..." Grey eyes sharpened to the piercing strength of diamonds. Aragorn stiffened, wide-eyed as he realized what he'd done. "I- I mean, Ada... I'm fine. If I could be helped to my own bed, I'll rest there. You do not need to bother with me."
"Estel, you cannot be wandering the halls in that condition. And of course, I bother about you; your ride back has obviously not helped to heal that wound. It is nothing to be ashamed of, but the fact is that you do not have elven healing. You need time, penneth. And until I am satisfied that you will not fall over on a simple walk, you will stay here."
"No," Aragorn argued mulishly, struggling up from the bed and fighting the light-headed feeling of blood loss as well the older elf's hands.
"Aragorn, lie still!"
"No! I will not stay here in your bed!"
"Why is it so hard for you to accept my help?" Elrond snapped suddenly, losing his temper completely for a few frazzled minutes. He wasn't trying to hold the child hostage, but dammit, he trying to help! "As a healer, I will not have you do what your body cannot stand. As a father, I am..."
"You are not my father," Aragorn retorted back, dark eyes blazing with an emotion half-anger, half-need, "You are not my father and you were not my father and you never will be my father!"
A quick indrawn breath and Elrond went still, not being able to guard against such hurt. After all these years and all the childhood memories, he simply couldn't understand it! Had Estel always felt like this? He didn't remember seeing the child opposed to his care before. Indeed, Estel had seemed to rejoice in it more than any other, a flattering and soothing position for the Elf Lord to be in.
"Why?" he finally asked, his eyes full of sadness, "What have I done that was so wrong?"
"It is not you," Aragorn muttered, sliding his hands over his face, "You were the best father a child could have. But you are not my father. You only act like it."
"But Estel, I have not been acting. I care for you as my child and as such I treat you. If there is a problem I had hoped you would come to me with it. If you are injured, I would treat you myself. I watch for your safety and well-being. My heart aches for your troubles and has pride for your achievements. How much more of a father can I be?"
Aragorn shook his head silently, the tears clenched behind tightly closed eyes. He wished he'd never come to Elrond; he wished he'd brought one of the twins with him; he wished Legolas were here so he could talk to his friend. Moreover, he wished he hadn't been the cause of that bewildered pain in the voice of the one being he'd give his life to safe from harm.
"Estel?"
Aragorn kept his eyes shut and did not answer.
Elrond sighed once more, daring to reach out a finger and trace a soft line on the hollowed cheek. Troubles there were, and they would be dealt with. For now, Estel needed his sleep. Even eating could wait until he was fully rested. So deciding, the elf got to his feet and left the room, firmly ordering himself not to turn back when the soft gasp of heartbroken crying filtered out of the room.
A young Aragorn is finding it very hard to keep his shaming secret to himself. And of course Elrond is oblivious. What happens when Aragorn needs Elrond to forget he was ever his foster father, and Elrond can't find a way to do so?