Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Aragorn, Arwen, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Gandalf ate in the palace itself, and for once were uninterrupted by others. This the newlyweds were glad for. They doubted they could keep their composure in front of others so soon after news of their pregnancy. As it was they were still coming to terms with this fact, as well as the relief of not having to keep up pretenses around the two elves and wizard they dined with.

"You know," Celeborn mused, "you don't need to sleep in separate rooms now that you're married. There is no longer any need for you to go sneaking across the hall each night like a couple of burglars."

Aragorn and Arwen's mouths hung open in shock, and Celeborn laughed. Arwen was the first to speak.

"How long have you known?" she asked. Her eyes found her grandmother's piercing blue ones, for she knew that it was her grandmother who had first pieced things together.

Galadriel smiled. "For four years," she answered. Arwen blinked, surprised, and then exchanged glances with Aragorn. The three elders sitting across from the couple laughed.

Galadriel stood now, moving in slow circles around the great dining hall. Arwen gulped, recognizing it as something her grandmother did when she was thinking about something. As a general rule, that something was unpleasant.

"You must return to Rivendell," she said at last. This time, the looks that Aragorn and Arwen exchanged were panicked.

"Ada doesn't know that we're married," Arwen protested. "Oh no." She trailed off, her hand coming to rest on her stomach. They would have to tell him. There was no way they could keep their child hidden from Elrond.

Aragorn seemed to have reached the same conclusion. "It's best we tell him sooner," he said. His voice was calm, but inside fear and worry were swirling around him like a storm. How would they tell Elrond that they were married? The elf lord hadn't even known they had feelings for each other. He could only hope that the news that the lord was to be a grandfather would help to soften the blow.

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "But there is another reason as well." He sighed, preparing his words. "This is a unique child you carry," he told Arwen.

The elf smiled softly. "I know," she murmured.

"Do you?" Celeborn had arched two silver brows. "Then you realize the danger it is in?"

"What?" Aragorn tensed at this, automatically bringing his hand to the dagger he kept on him, even in the safety of the golden wood. Celeborn sighed; clearly he would need to spell things out for them.

"Your child bears a noble mixture of blood; the high elves of old and the line of Isildur. He or she has the potential to be a great force in the fate of Middle Earth. There are many who would wish to introduce the child to the forces of evil."

Arwen gasped as the meaning of her grandfather's words sunk in. "The baby will be a target for all so long as its identity is known," she stated. Celeborn nodded gravely.

"So we do as was done with me," Aragorn offered. "We will not tell anyone until our child is of age, not even the baby."

"It is not that simple." Galadriel passed behind the expectant parents, lifting her hand to trail it comfortingly across their backs. "There is little chance that Arwen's pregnancy will go unnoticed, though it can be done. However, no one in Rivendell will be able to ignore the baby's sudden appearance, or his or hers resemblance to you. Questions will arise as to where you found the child. The truth would come out."

Aragorn frowned. "So what do we do?" he asked. "If things are indeed so dire, would Lothlórien not be safer?"

"Safer, yes, but not what your child needs." Gandalf looked to Galadriel as he finished speaking, and the two seemed to exchange silent words.

"What do you mean?" Arwen's sharp gaze swept between the two. "What do you see in my baby's future, Grandmother?"

Galadriel smiled softly. "She will be a great influence on fate," she supplied. "More than that I cannot say. But although we may be better able to hide the child in Lothlórien, it is not the safest place, nor is it what your baby needs to become who it must."

"So what do you recommend?" asked Arwen.

"Return to Rivendell," Galadriel advised. "The proper path will become clear to you. I am sure that you will see it."

"It will be difficult," warned Gandalf. "But you must do what is best for your child."

"Will you come with us, Mithrandir?" Arwen asked.

Gandalf laughed shortly. "No," he said. "I think I will be avoiding the west for a while yet. There is a hobbit there that will soon be very cross with me."

Aragorn's eyebrows lifted. What had Gandalf done to upset one of the Shire folk? They were known primarily for their large, hairy feet, secondly for their kindness and slow tempers.

"Grandmother? Grandfather?" asked Arwen.

Galadriel considered for a moment. While she yearned to help her granddaughter, this was something that the young elf needed to do alone. "No," she told her. "My presence will only complicate things."

Arwen nodded, her spirits only dropping as she saw her grandfather shake his head. She knew Galadriel was right. Her father would be angry enough without the knowledge that Galadriel and Celeborn had known for four years of their deception and hadn't said a word.

"When do we leave?" she asked.

"Are you so eager to go?" Joked Gandalf. At the glare Aragorn leveled at him, the wizard's smirk faded away.

"Stay for another three months," Galadriel advised. "While your father and brothers will know the truth, the rest of the world will not. Four months is a reasonable time for a mortal man to visit us. And we must remember our pretenses that your visit was for reasons other than to marry on Cerin Amroth."

Aragorn and Arwen's cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and Aragorn had an overwhelming sense to apologize. Galadriel cut him off before he could though with an airy wave of her hand.

"I do not mind," she told him. "I enjoyed watching my visions come to pass."

Gandalf stood, and Galadriel stopped her pacing, coming to a stop beside him. "I think it best if we leave them to think," the old wizard commented.

"Of course." Celeborn stood and took his wife's hand. They were halfway out of the dining hall when he turned back.

"Don't despair too much at the choices that lie ahead of you," he told them. "While it may be difficult, you will see in time that they are for the best." He allowed Galadriel and Gandalf to pull him from the room then, leaving the husband and wife in the dining hall to mull over the future of their unborn child.

By unspoken consent Aragorn and Arwen slipped off to Aragorn's room, feeling that they were too exposed to prying ears in the dining hall. On his bed they curled up, his hand stroking her shoulder. Their hands came to rest on Arwen's stomach, though it was too early to feel any signs of life beneath.

"What will we do?" she whispered.

Aragorn himself didn't know, but he couldn't very well admit that. He had to stay strong, for the sake of his wife and his child. "We will have our baby," he told her. "And when we realize what we must do, we shall do it, and our child will grow up strong and loved. We will make the right choice, my love."

Arwen sighed. She wasn't so sure, but she held her tongue. There was naught that she could do but wait and hope that the Valar loved her child as much as she did already.

Half a fortnight later the morning sickness began. Aragorn had just sat down for breakfast when Arwen entered the room. At the sight of the feast spread out across the table his wife adopted a horrified look on her face and bolted from the dining hall. Aragorn shot out of his seat, but was stayed from going further by Galadriel's hand on his arm.

"I will go to her," she told him. "These are womanly matters." With that she'd swept out of the room, leaving Aragorn staring after her in anxious confusion. Beside him Celeborn laughed.

"It's best to let her," he cautioned the man. "Arwen will be in no mood for your company, trust me." A pained look crossed the elf's face, and Aragorn suddenly wondered what Galadriel had been like as an expecting mother. Judging by the smirk that crossed Gandalf's face, she had been quite a spectacle.

He ate quickly and nicked some food from the table, bringing it to Arwen's room. There his wife was curled up quite miserably in her grandmother's arms, the golden haired elf stroking her granddaughter's hair comfortingly.

"Get that out of here," Arwen ordered. Aragorn froze, and then realized that she was talking about the food he held. He set the tray he'd arranged down on the floor of the hall before entering the room again.

"Better?" he asked.

"Not really." Arwen's cheeks bulged, and she lunged for the bucket her grandmother had provided for her. Galadriel calmly held Arwen's hair back as she emptied her stomach.

Aragorn ignored the stench from the bucket, sitting beside Arwen and pulling her into his arms. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why is she sick? Does this concern the baby?"

Galadriel nodded. "This is called morning sickness," she explained. "It's a stage all pregnant women go through. Arwen will often be sick in the early hours of the day, and the mere sight of certain foods will make her sick. It is the most unpleasant time of the pregnancy."

Aragorn frowned. If Arwen couldn't eat without throwing up, neither she nor the baby would be healthy. Would they live? "How long will it last?" he asked.

Galadriel reached over to smooth Arwen's raven hair behind her ear. "About three months. I've planned your departure for around the time when the sickness should stop."

"That's not what I was worried about," Aragorn muttered. He turned to Arwen, planting a soft kiss on her temple. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Arwen sent a glare up at him. "Do I look alright?" she asked sourly.

Aragorn frowned. What was the correct answer in this case? After a moment he decided on an honest "no."

"But you're still beautiful," he added.

Arwen, it seemed, wasn't in the mood for his nonsense. "Get out," she moaned. "You're not helping."

Aragorn shot Galadriel a pleading look for aid, but the elf simply pursed her lips, her eyes twinkling in amusement. Sighing, Aragorn fled before Arwen started to yell at him.

"How is she?" Gandalf and Celeborn looked up from their discussion as Aragorn reentered the dining hall, and the man shook his head.

"Sick," he supplied. "And in a foul mood."

Gandalf chuckled and traded a knowing look with Celeborn. "Here we go again."

Aragorn was distracted from their guffaws as Haldir entered the room. His friend grinned in joy as he spied Aragorn, striding purposefully up to him.

"There you are," he exclaimed. "We were supposed to be at the archer's field twenty minutes ago."

"I'm sorry," Aragorn muttered. "It's been a long morning."

"Oh?" Haldir shot him a look of concern as he guided him out of the castle and down the steps carved into the great tree it sat upon. "How so?"

Aragorn shook his head. "You don't want to know." In response to Haldir's newly raised eyebrow he added, "You really don't want to know."

Haldir laughed at him, no longer concerned.

As the fourth month of Arwen's pregnancy began, her morning sickness started to fade. The elf had spent much of her time indoors, knowing that no pretense would hide her pregnancy symptoms from the observant eyes of the elves. And though she was glad to be able to step outside without resisting the urge to hurl into the bushes, she regretted that it was time for her to depart.

She stood from her bed, steadying herself as a short wave of dizziness washed over her. This, her grandmother had warned, would replace the sickness. She began to pull on her traveling cloak, and then paused as Aragorn slipped through the door.

"Here," he said. He handed her a pastry that he had taken from breakfast, and she smiled gratefully as she bit into it. Though her morning sickness was mostly gone, she still found that she could only eat in small portions, and was often hungry again soon after breakfast. Luckily for her, her husband seemed more than willing to practice his burglary on the kitchens.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Arwen nodded, and Aragorn stepped forward to help her with her cloak. He already had donned his traveling cloak, and had his sword strapped to his hip. He leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'll meet you in the clearing," he whispered, then slipped out the door.

When Arwen descended the stairs several minutes later, she saw Aragorn and Haldir hug goodbye out of the corner of her eye. She turned her attention away and instead focused on her grandparents and Gandalf, who waited by the carriage door.

She hugged all three, resisting the pull of tears as she drew back. "Are you sure you won't come?" she asked. "None of you?"

They each shook their heads in turn. "This is something you must do yourselves," Celeborn told her.

"You will do fine." Gandalf tugged at a length of her raven hair gently, much as she had roughly pulled on his beard as a child, and Arwen smiled softly. It was something he'd always done to offer her comfort, but now as the soft waves of her hair bounced back into place all she could envision was the small hands of her yet-to-be-born baby doing the same. Before Arwen could dwell on the thought, her grandmother drew her aside briefly to give her some last pregnancy advice, distracting her from thoughts of the future.

When Aragorn approached he too said his goodbyes, though he only embraced Gandalf, then he helped Arwen gently into the carriage. Once more they waved as they pulled out of Lothlórien, then settled down together to brood over their child's future.

Elrond was both relieved and surprised to hear the horns announcing the return of Arwen and Aragorn. He never enjoyed being apart from his daughter, but he hadn't expected her back so quickly. And while he knew that this trip would be shorter, this was a little too short. He wondered if something had happened to cause such brevity.

He forced himself to take his time leaving his study. The horns had announced that the procession was simply nearing the city; there was still half an hour before it arrived. That half hour dragged, to the point where Elrond found himself willing the clock's hands to move faster.

Finally he set down his quill and adopted a relaxed stroll through his halls, though underneath he was bursting with nervous energy as he waited to see his daughter again.

He joined the crowd that had gathered in front of his house, waiting with barely concealed impatience for the carriage to arrive. The first sounds he heard were the stomp of the guards that surrounded the carriage, and then the carriage itself. In front of him, Elladan and Elrohir all but bounced with excitement.

At last the carriage had come to a halt. Aragorn was the first to emerge, and Elrond rolled his shoulders impatiently as he waited for Arwen to appear. As she climbed down she gripped Aragorn's arms tightly for support, seeming faint. Elrond frowned, panic rising in him -his daughter could be described by many words, but faint had never been one of them. Something was wrong.

He swept down the steps, and no sooner had Arwen detached herself from Aragorn than Elrond had pulled her into his arms.

"What is wrong?" he whispered into her ear.

Arwen frowned; she hadn't expected her father to be quite so perceptive so quickly, but nonetheless whispered back, "We must speak."

Elrond kissed her softly to show he'd heard her, and then pulled back. "Welcome home," he declared loudly. Terrified though he was for his daughter's safety, he still had pretenses to keep up. He stepped back, allowing the boys to say hello to their sister. As they pulled back he noticed a silent look pass between the twins. They had noticed something was wrong as well.

Elrond hurriedly welcomed Aragorn home, then ushered his four children -three elves and the to-be king he had raised as his own- into his house. He locked the door to his study once they were all inside, trusting the thick walls to keep out prying ears, then turned expectantly to his daughter.

She was sitting on the cushioned couch against the wall, her two brothers beside her. Aragorn leaned nervously against the wall, his hand hovering so that it barely brushed Arwen's shoulder.

Arwen took a deep breath. She had been dreading this moment since she had first deciphered her feelings for her husband so long ago. And though she had spent every moment since then trying to plot the words she would use to explain her deception to her father, everything she'd planned fled from her mind in this instant. She was left with the fleeting hope that news of her child would help to soften the blow.

"Ada," she began. "There is something we need to tell you." She paused, looking uncertainly to Aragorn, and he nodded reassuringly. They'd agreed that the news would be best coming from her. And so, with one last deep breath, she told her father the truth.

"Aragorn and I married while in Lothlórien," she told him. She stopped, inspecting the faces of the three elves in the room with her. Her brothers were staring in openmouthed shock, their eyes flickering between her and the man whose hand had now determinedly rested on her shoulder. She gulped and reached up to catch Aragorn's hand in her own as she turned her gaze to her father.

His expression had smoothed itself out, the traces of worry that had creased his face only moments before now gone. In its place was a look so blank that even Arwen had no hope of reading it. The only sign of his emotions were his eyes. They blazed with barely contained fury as they locked on Aragorn.

"What else?" he managed at last. His eyes moved back to Arwen, and his daughter flinched at the pain visible in his dark eyes; she had never wanted to hurt him. "What else is there?"

"I'm pregnant," she whispered.

For a moment, everything was still.

Many thoughts went through Elrond's head at that moment, overwhelmed as he was with the waves of emotions crashing over him. He wanted to fall to his knees in despair at the knowledge that his beloved daughter was now doomed to the same tragic fate as Lúthien, to fade when her mortal husband died, never to sail. He felt as if he could stand in that spot for all of eternity just trying to contemplate why his daughter and the man he had raised as his own did not think to tell him of their love; they not trust him, he realized.

He also felt anger at their betrayal; at Aragorn's betrayal. His right hand fingered the dagger he always kept on his person as he thought of the man's treason. Elrond had taken him into his home, treated him as his own, guided him when he needed a light to help him come out of the darkness after learning his true name and all it entailed –and yet Aragorn had betrayed him. He'd taken vows with Elrond's daughter, had not thought to consult him on the matter, ask for his blessing, mention it to him before the fact, or anything. He'd forced mortality upon his Elrond's sweet Evenstar. Worst of all, he'd stolen Elrond's daughter from him by stealing her heart, which her father had held since she Arwen was a little elfling. For that alone he tightened his grip on the dagger.

In that moment, Elrond wanted to kill him.

It seemed that everyone in the room had noticed this as well.

Instinctively Arwen shot to her feet and put herself in between the two men, expecting her father to lunge, but the elf never reached her. Elrohir and Elladan shot forward and gripped firmly his upper arms, silently telling him that they would not let him attack. They looked back to see Aragorn nudge Arwen gently behind him, sending her a scolding look that sloped down to her stomach. Arwen's face paled as she realized the risk she could have put her unborn child in.

Elrond thought to struggle, nearly oblivious to the calming words his sons were giving him. He strained to not look at his betrayer as his eyes moved past the man, automatically finding his daughter. What he saw made him pause at last to consider his actions. Arwen stood half behind her husband, her face pale and eyes wide as she stared at her father in terror. One hand was hovering over her stomach protectively- to shield the baby from him, Elrond realized despairingly.

"Arwen," he whispered. The dagger slipped from trembling fingers and clattered to the floor as it fell out of its holder, and he reached out his other hand to his daughter. The elf flinched away, moving further behind Aragorn, whose arm curled backwards to keep her safely behind him. It tore at Elrond's heart that they thought he would hurt her.

"You should go," Elladan suggested, daring to take his eyes off his father just long enough to sneak a glance at the couple in front of him. Despite his turmoil filled thoughts, somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that they looked good together. They were like pieces of a puzzle, two segments that fit perfectly, though at first glance they seemed to have no resemblance.

Elrohir nodded in agreement. Everyone needed some space to think, and Aragorn needed to seek shelter quickly. The two brothers wouldn't be able to contain their father for very long if he decided to attack, even without the dagger.

"Yes," Elrond agreed. His voice, at first choked in sound, regained its strength as he continued. "Leave my halls, and don't return."

Arwen gasped, Aragorn paled, and the twins' grip on Elrond's arms loosened as they turned to their father in shock.

"Father," bid Elrohir. "Surely you don't mean that."

Elrond met Aragorn's eyes with his own, hardening them to steel. "I do," he stated. His voice was like ice, and at his words he saw even his sons pale. "You have violated my trust," he told Aragorn. "You have deceived me in my own home, taken vows with my daughter without first coming to me. I thought of you as a son, and you have betrayed me." He wavered, fighting back tears that had not threatened since his wife had left for the Undying Lands. "I hereby banish you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You have kin in the north, the Dúnedain of old. Go to them, or don't. I care not. You are not to step foot in Rivendell again so long as you live."

"Ada, no!" Arwen tried to step forward, but was held back by Aragorn. The man pulled her against him as tears formed in his eyes, and Elrond felt his resolve waver. No, he thought. This has to be done. He averted his eyes as the couple before him enveloped each other in a desperate hug, trying to part what comfort they could to the other. It was Elrohir who spoke first, however.

"Let's go," he murmured. The twins carefully detached themselves from Elrond and moved towards the door, gently pushing their sister and her husband out and into the corridor. Elrond noticed that one of the twins always had their eyes on him as they closed the door softly behind them.

As soon as they had left her father's study Arwen whirled to Aragorn. "You can't leave," she sobbed. "You can't."

Aragorn pulled her to him, enveloping her in a strong but gentle hug. Just before he pulled away he kissed the top of her head, and then gently pried her fingers loose from his shirt.

"I cannot refuse a banishment from the lord of the house," he told her. "Perhaps he will come around in time, but for now we must abide by his wishes." His eyes strayed to the study door, then back to his wife, and he buried his head in her shoulder, struggling to resist the sobs that were trying to shake free.

He packed quickly, choosing only a few things to bring with him. Elladan and Elrohir helped him silently, unsure what to say as they watched the man who was like a brother to them run his hands over childhood mementos for the last time. As they stepped aside to let the husband and wife say their goodbyes they turned to each other and whispered fervently under their breaths.

"What -what do we do?" Elrohir's eyes were wide as he searched his brother's face. Usually, whenever one twin couldn't find the answer to a problem, the other would have it ready for him, but the pale face that met Elrohir's held only the same questions as his own.

"I do not know." Elladan glanced over to the door to Aragorn's room, which they had closed partially to give the couple some privacy. "I never saw this coming."

"Nor I." Elrohir watched his brother close his eyes as he thought, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Finally they opened again, and Elladan sighed as he looked at his brother.

"I'll go talk to father," he whispered. "Don't let Estel leave yet." He automatically used Aragorn's formal name, though he hadn't needed its protection since he had reached manhood and learned his true identity.

Elrohir nodded, fixing his eyes on the door to Aragorn's room as Elladan slipped back up the hallway. Elladan paused outside the door to his father's study, and then knocked.

"Father?" he called. There was no answer. He tested the doorknob, only to find it locked, and pressed his ear to the door. From within the room he could barely make out Lord Elrond's sobs.

He returned pale faced to Elrohir, merely shaking his head at his brother's questioning look. Elrohir could tell that Elladan wasn't telling him something, but he didn't press his brother as the door to Aragorn's room opened once more. Aragorn stepped out, his eyes red rimmed, and Arwen followed. Her eyes were red with the tears that still streamed down her face, and she clutched at her stomach as though it was the only thing keeping her alive. As Elrohir looked down at his sister's midsection, he thought he could make out a faint bulge in the fabric of her gown.

They walked Aragorn to the front of the house, thankful that no one was around, and then hugged each other woodenly good bye. As Elladan pulled away from Aragorn, he saw his brother whisper something into Aragorn's ear. The man nodded once, and then turned back to Arwen.

His wife flung herself at him, and the two lost themselves in a passionate kiss in their final moments. As the two pulled apart Arwen descended once more into tears, and with regret filled eyes her husband stepped away from her.

He gave Elrohir and Elladan small smiles as he hefted his bag and disappeared out the door, and as Elladan watched him walk down the road he leaned over to whisper to his brother.

"What did you tell him?" he asked.

Elrohir turned his head slightly to reply in just as soft a voice as Elladan had used. "I told him to meet us in Bree in a week," he said. Elladan nodded, and then glanced back as Arwen fled back to her room, sobbing uncontrollably.

He looked back to his brother. "It's going to be a long week," he commented.

Elrohir nodded slowly. "Aye," he agreed.

Neither Arwen nor Elrond emerged for dinner, and the two boys ate in silence. In some ways they were glad, for it gave them time to discuss the events of the day in peace. By the end of the night they realized that, although not nearly as much as their father, they too were angry with Arwen and Aragorn. Angry and hurt.

"Why didn't they tell us?" asked Elrohir. "I thought they trusted us!"

"Shh." Elladan glanced around to make sure there was no one in earshot, then turned his gaze back to his brother. "I don't know," he admitted. He laughed shortly- bitterly. "I don't know anything. This morning we were plotting our next prank, and now we're to be uncles!" He shook his head, and beside him Elrohir buried his face in his hands.

"Father can't keep the banishment intact," Elrohir insisted. "The baby is as much Aragorn's as it is Arwen's. How is he to be there for his child if he isn't allowed inside the city?"

"We have a week before we are to meet Estel," Elladan said. "And several months more until the child is born. Hopefully he will change his mind."

"Do you think he will?"

Elladan thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No," he whispered. "I don't."

One week later the boys packed small sacks and donned their weapons. Elrohir left a note for Arwen or their father to find, whichever came looking for them first, then he and Elladan jumped lithely off the balcony outside their room, landing in the garden below.

As they made their way out of Rivendell, Elrohir found himself reflecting over the past week. Arwen had stayed in her room, and so the boys had brought her meals on a tray. They'd stood awkwardly in her room as she picked at her meals, unsure what to say. Should they comfort her? Should they tell her off for lying to them? While their hearts ached for Arwen's sadness and they felt concern at her state of mind, they could not bring themselves to forgive her just yet.

The day after Aragorn's banishment Elrond had resumed life as though all was normal. And though the lord never so much as mentioned Aragorn's name, Elrohir had often seen his father's eyes settling on the man's empty place at the table during meals.

Earlier that night, the two boys had approached their father, begging him to withdraw his sentence to Aragorn. The lord had flatly refused, bluntly dismissing the boys to bed when they had protested as if they were still elfings. And so with heavy hearts they had snuck out.

It took several days to reach Bree. There they pulled their hoods securely around their faces before approaching the gate keeper, loathe to give any indication as to their identities. Once inside the town they made their way from inn to inn, one twin asking after both of Aragorn's names while the other scanned the dark rooms for the man.

The last inn they tried was called the Prancing Pony. It was a small old place, with a wooden sign above the door announcing its name. Once more Elladan stepped up to the bar to inquire about Aragorn, and Elrohir scanned around the dark and smoky room. He jumped as he felt a hand on his back, and he and Elladan turned to find Aragorn standing just behind him.

He led the brothers to a booth in the back corner, where they would have privacy, and they sat with a sigh. The two elves inspected Aragorn's face in the dim light, noting that although it had been but a week since he had left Rivendell, his face was already harder. His time apart from his wife had not been easy.

"Tell us everything," Elladan ordered. Aragorn sighed and nodded, then began the long tale of his and Arwen's love, beginning with her return home from Lothlórien when he had been in his twentieth year, and how he had fallen instantly in love with her. He spoke for several hours, stopping only for small sips of his ale, and the twins listened in rapt attention.

They didn't stay long afterwards, agreeing to keep in touch and to keep Aragorn updated on Arwen and the baby. They departed only after learning from Aragorn how he wished to be contacted, and quickly took to the road. The town of Bree, filled with rough men with too little work and too much alcohol, did not feel safe to them. They had no wish to stay the night and risk anyone learning their elven identities, or worse, their noble heritage.

The sun was setting several days later when they returned to Rivendell, and they made their way first to the kitchens, responding to the chefs' questions by stating that they had gone out of town on business. Once they had a tray of food set for Arwen they headed upstairs.

There they found the remnants of a first tray on the floor, having been thrown at someone. Judging by the smear on the back of the door, whoever Arwen had been aiming for had gotten out just in time.

Their sister was curled up in bed, facing the balcony. Her hand stroked her stomach absentmindedly, and she looked as though she had been crying. Elladan set the tray down and sat on the bed beside her, Elrohir next to him.

"Aragorn sends his love," he told her. Though his brother in law's name felt odd on his tongue, he suspected that its familiarity would help to comfort his sister. Arwen nodded, unsurprised; she had guessed where her brothers had gone when she had heard her father yelling about their disappearance.

"How is he?" she croaked.

Elrohir sighed. "He misses you," he said. Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say, for Arwen's lip trembled. Elrohir cursed quietly and slid under his sister's head, stroking her hair gently.

"Sister," he murmured. "All will be well. Father will lift his sentence in time, just give him a chance to cool down."

Arwen sniffled, but said nothing, and Elrohir decided that a distraction was what she needed. "What happened to your door?" he asked mildly.

A small smile played at the corner of Arwen's mouth, the first they had seen from her since before she had left for Lothlórien. "Father brought me dinner," she supplied. "We got into an argument and I threw my tray at him."

Elladan barked out a laugh. "That's all?" he asked. "I'm surprised you didn't tear him to pieces."

Arwen blushed. "I may have slapped him," she admitted.

Elladan and Elrohir traded shocked looks, visualizing their little sister backhanding their father. Then, together, the three broke down into chortles.

Arwen turned over and pushed herself up, shifting so that she could look at both her brothers. "Are you still angry with me?" she asked.

"No." Elladan reached over and tucked a length of hair behind his sister's ear. "No longer."

Arwen smiled, and tears of relief shone in her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she whispered. "I just-"

"We know," Elrohir said. "You don't need to explain. Aragorn already did." Like his brother, Elrohir was giving Aragorn's true name a try.

Arwen nodded, and her hand found its way to her stomach. Elrohir grinned as he looked down at the small bulge in her dress.

"So," he started. "We're going to be uncles." He traded evil looks with Elladan, and Arwen's eyes narrowed.

"You won't be going anywhere near my baby," she declared.

"What! Why?"

Arwen snorted. "Because I don't want you dying him or her purple, that's why."

Elladan looked at her indignantly. "The color from the bath soaps came off within a week," he dismissed. "And it was your own fault. You should have noticed there was something wrong with the water."

Arwen harrumphed, but didn't respond.

They stayed with her for a while longer, loathe to leave. Now that they were no longer angry with her, they felt worse than ever for their coldness since her return. This was the time when she needed them most, and they had given her the cold shoulder. They were ashamed of themselves.

At last they stood to leave, pausing when Arwen called for them to wait. She was lying back in bed, propped up by several pillows. "What will Aragorn do now?" she asked.

"He said he's heading north," Elrohir supplied. "To visit the Dúnedain. He says he will try to be back by the time the baby is born."

Arwen nodded. "I hope he's using discretion," she stated.

"He is," Elladan assured her. "It took us half the night to find him in Bree. He's going by a new name, one we've not heard of before."

"What is it?" Arwen perked up at this. What name did her husband consider safe enough to bear in his travels?

Elrohir smiled as he responded, remembering the soft look that had overtaken Aragorn's face as he had told the twins the name. Somehow, he knew that it meant something personal to the man. "He calls himself Strider now," he answered.

The two brothers took one look at the tears that filled their sister's eyes and fled, leaving her to her memories.