Disclaimer: See Ch.1

A/N: Yes, we are still without our computers, and yes, Natsumi is still wailing away. If it weren't for the fact that it helps her to get more stories done, I would kill her. - Isuzu (Ghost Secretary, Wakabe Writing Firm)

Prompt: Shoes: Elrond

Lord Elrond of Imladris walked through the quiet halls of his home, strangely quiet and lacking in a certain hurricane of laughter and babble in the form of a young child. Enjoying the rare moment of peace without the seemingly endless piles of paperwork required to keep the Last Homely Home running, he had decided to go look for his youngest. It had been quite a few hours since he had seen him at the morning meal, before the elf lord became indisposed of again. The first stop was the gardens, which little Estel was terribly fond of exploring, to both the amusement and dismay of his caretakers who then had to bathe the child after a long afternoon of exploring under trees and in bushes. Indeed, any who had met the little one would be able to say that he was forever getting dirty, always on the floor, watching bugs or collecting rocks and fuana that took his interest. However, there was no inquisitive and adventurous toddler there today.

Backtracking back inside the house, Elrond decided to try the library. Perhaps he had demanded a story from his twins, and they were there now, sitting together in the back, listening to each other read tales of far off places and grand adventures long past. Or perhaps the twins were teaching him how to read, smiling that soft smile reserved only for a child that had stolen their hearts and eased their pains, as he sounded out words that were past his current knowledge. But a quick scan and walk through of the impressive library once more found it devoid of any of his sons, and no sign that his sons had left a gift behind for some poor soul that thought it a safe place from their mischievous hands.

Puzzled, the elf lord then went to the kitchens. Maybe the cooks were getting a light snack ready for them, or perhaps the twins had decided to unleash the little rascal upon the staff as they went about their business getting things together for a prank. His arrival at the kitchens, however, revealed the same thing that he had found in the library and the gardens: no Estel.

He was not panicking, not yet. Despite what his sons might say concerning the youngest resident of these halls, Elrond was not prone to panicking whenever he could not find him. After all, Rivendell was the safest place in Arda for the Hope of Man. No orcs could enter here, and any dangers that could somehow find their way to this place were quickly cut down by the patrols that ran through the valley and protected his realm. There was no need to panic, no need at all.

Perhaps the child was taking a nap. With that thought in mind, Elrond once more entered his halls, this time making his way to Estel's room. The boy was certainly still young enough to need a nap around midday, and he was often found there whenever he could be convinced to rest before he would once more be the little ball of energy that had made Imladris such a happier place than it had been since before... before.

Quickly, he walked down the halls to the family living quarters upstairs, ever mindful of the quiet that had come over his home. Entering into Estel's room, Elrond silently crept in, and smiled at the scene that was before him. There on the bed was his youngest, sleeping contently, with his little head laying on Elladan's chest. In a chair beside the pair was Elrohir, a book still in his lap and open, despite the angle at which it was balanced precariously at. He shook his head to himself, marvelling at the peace the scene before him presented. He knew it would not last long, and that as soon as the young ones woke up, it would be back to chaos as usual. Looking around, he raised an eyebrow at the mess that was the boy's room. Shaking his head once again, he set about putting everything away. As he started to finish up tidying, his foot happened to step on something and he looked down. There on the floor, near Elrohir, were three pairs of shoes. Two of the pairs were large, practical, and identical. Made of leather and tailored expertly, they were made to be able to stand the long journeys that were necessary, at times, to protect others. Though not worn out enough to be in need of replacing, they showed some signs of wear, of journeys taken and places far from home. But the last pair was that of a child's, small and precious, that also showed signs of wear- not of battles against outside forces, but of excited runs through a house that had remained silent and somber for too long, giving laughter and light to those who had thought such things lost to them forever. A sad smile came across the Peredhil's immortal face as he straightened the shoes out. He knew that the time for Estel to grow into the footsteps of his ancestors was ever approaching. The day when Elrond must release him to the world drew nearer with each passing of the sun. But for now, maybe, there could be a chance for peace and happiness untouched by the sorrows of the past and the dangers of the future.