SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

"Ouch!" Jeren exclaimed, as the Elf lord removed a stubborn stitch from the gash in her chest.

It had been ten days since Jeren had been brought to Imladris in pain beyond belief from injuries she received at the hands of Orcs raiding her homestead. The gash she had taken from the thrashing hoof of her dying horse was now healed enough that the stitches Elrohir had painstakingly—in every sense of the word—used to close the wound could now be removed. Elrond, the Lord of Imladris was in the process of taking out the stitches—all twenty of them. It had been a large and ugly gash, requiring much stitching. Elrohir was a gifted healer, in spite of his lack of enthusiasm for the task, and Jeren's scar, while quite noticeable, would not be the hideous affair it would have been, had it been left to a lesser healer—say perhaps one of human origins.

"I am sorry, Jeren," Elrond said with sympathy, "but some of these are quite stubborn. They refuse to give up their task of holding the gash closed, even though their assistance is no longer necessary."

Jeren still had to blush, even after all the different male Elves that had attended her in her healing since her run-in with the Orcs. She felt comfortable with Lord Elrond, but he was still male, and she was still sitting here in the bed with her breasts exposed to him, even though he didn't seem to be noticing anything but the stitches at the moment.

"I understand, my lord," Jeren replied. "I am trying to be silent. Sometimes the pain of it catches me by surprise. I mean not to call out so. It shames me when I do. Papa would not like it were he here. Please do not tell him I am failing so badly."

Elrond looked up at her and frowned deeply, stopping his task for the moment. Jeren put an extreme amount of pressure on herself to be perfect; but she was, after all, human. Even an Elf wasn't perfect; how could a human expect to be so?

"Jeren," he said impatiently, "how many times have I told you since you have been here, that it is perfectly normal to show you have pain? I have had grown Elves give me ten times the grief you have, and with over ten times less of an injury! Now cease this talk of shame!"

"Yes, my lord," Jeren replied as if properly chastised. Elrohir chose just this time to make an appearance into Jeren's space in the Healing Halls. Elrond had not thought to draw a screen around Jeren's bed, much to her dismay, for Elves thought nothing of nudity among themselves, so gave not much thought of it among others either. Anardil had told Naith of Jeren's modesty, before she had started to help her with her personal needs, so it had become quite routine for her to provide privacy for Jeren whenever she was seeing to her. So poor Jeren's blush deepened when Elrohir approached her bed with a cheery greeting for the new day.

"How is our favorite girl in the Healing Halls this morning?" Elrohir asked, oblivious to Jeren's embarrassment. He had finished his 'sentence' to appear in the Healing Halls each morning at sunrise—for lacking bedside manner—over four days ago, so he was back to his cheerful, irritating and irreverent self.

"Elrohir," Jeren pleaded, "do you mind? Could you possibly turn around, or go behind me or some such thing? My bare body is hanging out here for all the world to see, and I am as embarrassed as can be!"

Elrond stood upright abruptly, and shielded Jeren's body from Elrohir's view.

"Turn around Elrohir! And please, go fetch a screen," Elrond said sharply. "I apologize, Jeren. Forgive my obtuseness. Elves think nothing of nudity, and I forget the customs of your people. I will remember this blunder, have no fear. This will not happen again. You have my word."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," Jeren replied sincerely. "I would appreciate that greatly."

Elrohir did as his father had bid, and returned in short order, placing a screen around Jeren's bed, hiding her from prying eyes. He stood behind Jeren, and looked over her shoulder at his father. This made Jeren feel much better. It wasn't the perfect solution, but at least the Elf wasn't getting a full frontal view of her.

"As soon as I have these stitches out," Elrond said, "we will see about placing your shoulders in a sling that will hold them back, and your clavicle in place, without having to have your arms tied down. I fear it will be very painful at first, however. We may have to do it by degrees; start with it strapped loosely, but with your arms still restrained, and progress with the sling until it is as tight as it should be. Then we will be able to leave your arms free. You will remain in the sling—or brace is more what it is—for a few more weeks, until I am sure the bones are knit strongly. You will continue to need to remain very quiet—no strenuous use of your arms or shoulders for quite some time, until the bones have had time enough to knit together before they are rock hard once again."

"Yes, my lord," Jeren replied dutifully. "Whatever you wish me to do for my recovery, I will do."

"Would that all my patients were so cooperative," Elrond said to them both as he bent to his task once again. "I am almost halfway finished with the removal of the stitches, Jeren. It should not take much longer now."

"How does the scar look, Father?" Elrohir asked with interest. He doubted very much that he would be allowed to inspect the fruit of his efforts for himself, with Jeren being a girl of such modesty.

"It looks excellent, Elrohir," Elrond said with obvious pride. "It was a bad gash in a difficult location. You closed it well, with very fine stitches. The scar is minimal and should remain so. I do regret that we will be forced to pull her shoulders back with the scar so new. It may cause it to widen somewhat, but I still do not believe it will be very noticeable."

"It matters not so much to me," Jeren said in an off-hand manner. "Who is to see it anyway?"

"A husband may venture a peek now and then, sweet, modest Jeren," Elrohir said with one of his wickedest grins. "But likewise, it will not matter to him either, for he will love you with all his heart, and such things matter not between husbands and wives, do they, Father?"

"They do not, Elrohir, you are so right," Elrond replied confidently.

"You two do not have to be pretending because of me," Jeren said with a smile. "I will not be marrying. I have no illusions about such a thing any more."

"What do you mean, Jeren?" Elrond asked, drawing his brows together in puzzlement.

"I will not be marrying," Jeren restated flatly. "I know that is fact, and I accept it. You need not pretend there is a chance that my fate will be otherwise."

"I understand not why you would think in this way," Elrond said, his ire rising slightly.

Jeren surprised him by showing a wee bit of anger in her eyes as well.

Perhaps that is not so bad. Anger is as good a way as any to get emotion out as are tears—as long as the anger is not allowed to get out of hand.

"I am no longer pure by anyone's standard, be they Elves or humans, Lord Elrond," Jeren exclaimed, although she did not raise her voice. "What man would have me, defiled as I am? You would not think that I should pass myself off as something that I am not, would you?"

"Of course I would not!" Elrond said, his eyes flashing dangerously. He wondered to himself if he scared her at all. It did not appear as if he did. He bent his head back to his task. He wanted to finish this job, for it took his concentration, yet he wanted to give this conversation with Jeren his full attention as well.

"There are plenty of men who would have you, Jeren," Elrohir put in. "Those who would not are not half the men they would attest to be."

"That sounds very pretty, Elrohir," Jeren said sarcastically, "but in reality, what a man says he is willing to marry and what he truly marries can be vastly different. Why do you not tell me, Elrohir, would you marry a woman who had lain with Orcs?"

"I was married to one, Jeren," Elrond said loudly. "What say you to that? I found her to be beautiful and whole and worthy of everything she had been worthy of before they laid their filthy paws on her. It was she who would not have me when they were done with her, not the other way around. What say you to that, princess?" Elrond threw the small scissors he'd been using on the stitches down on the metal tray, sending a resounding crash throughout the small area surrounding Jeren's bed, and left the room in a flurry of robes. The quiet was deafening. Neither Jeren nor Elrohir moved.

Elrohir draped Jeren in a blanket that had been lying across the foot of the bed, and she grasped it together in front. He went around her, and looked into her eyes, afraid of what he may see. He hated that she had accidentally trod on his father's toes so roughly, but his father had not exactly left hers untrod upon on his way out the door. He was relieved when he saw that besides appearing as saucers, her eyes were dry, and she did not appear to be near emotional collapse.

"Valar, Elrohir!" Jeren exclaimed, "I am so sorry! I had forgotten all about your mother! I cannot believe I said such a thing! I want to apologize to your father right now. The hurt he must feel, and it is all because of my feeling sorry for myself. I am so ashamed!" Jeren buried her face in her hands.

"Worry not, Jeren," Elrohir said calmly. "My father growls loudly sometimes, but he bites not at all. He will forgive and forget so quickly you will wonder if you imagined the incident. However, he will expect an apology, so do not fail to give him one. He is a very traditional Elf, even though he acts quite nontraditional at times."

Jeren's face emerged from her hands, and she looked up at Elrohir with dry eyes, to his amazement. Yet her face was a mask of pain—pain that she could have caused such anguish to someone she was beginning to hold dear.

"When do you think I should beg his forgiveness?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, Jeren," Elrohir said confidentially. "Never beg! Be confident and forthright—but do not beg! He will hold you in so much more esteem should you behave in such a manner."

"I don't know, Elrohir," Jeren said skeptically. "He seems pretty much tuned in to your good ideas. I think I may perhaps decide when I see him again—that is, if he decides to come to see me again. Oh, I am so hateful! How could I have done it?" The girl was practically wailing she was so distraught with herself.

"He will forgive you, and of course he will come to see you again," Elrohir quietly fussed at her. "Now open up this blanket, I want to see if he removed all the stitches."

"No!" Jeren said sharply. "He can do it when he returns."

"If you believe I am leaving you here, with that clavicle unbound," Elrohir said chidingly, "you believe wrongly. After having my father discipline me for my bedside manner, of all things—for a whole week, mind you—do not believe I will tempt fate by leaving you in any way open to injury of any sort. Now, open up."

Jeren admitted defeat, and allowed Elrohir access to the blanket's edges so that he could check on the progress of the stitch removal. Elrohir had a very hard time believing what he was seeing. Elrond had left at least a half dozen stitches untouched. This was so unlike his father, it was eerie. Elrohir took up the scissors the Elf lord had tossed so loudly onto the tray, and began where his father had left off, and after about five minutes had the job completed. He dipped a cloth into an herbal solution his father had prepared earlier for the purpose, and cleansed the now stitchless scar, which had a few redden areas on it where the stitching had not wanted to come loose. A small bath with the medicated herbal solution would take any irritation out of the scar, and all would be well with this injury at last. He admired his work as he bathed it, then dried it. Yes, he was quite good with the needle, even if he did say so himself.

He got busy and had Jeren bound and trussed up once again in no time. Anardil entered the Healing Halls just as the Elf was finishing tying the knots against Jeren's arms, and settling a loose-fitting robe around her body.

"Anardil," Elrohir greeted the ranger, "how fare you this morning?"

"I fare very well, Elrohir," he replied. "And how fares my girl? She is looking very well, that is apparent."

"I am feeling fine, Papa," Jeren replied quietly.

"You sound not so well, Jeren," her father observed. "What ails you?"

"She and father had a small falling out," Elrohir admitted on Jeren's behalf. "Nothing serious."

Elrohir could see Anardil visibly bristle.

"Jeren," Anardil said gruffly. "What did you do?"

Jeren's gaze fell to the floor, then lifted back to meet that of her sire.

"I back-talked Lord Elrond, Papa," she replied. "I deserve punishment. I will apologize to him as soon as I see him again, and I await your judgment and accept the penalty you will mete out to me."

Elrohir could not believe his ears. He heard the girl speaking. He understood her language as well as his own native tongue, but she made absolutely no sense. His father and Jeren had an argument—plain and simple. They would apologize to each other, and the case would be closed. End of the trial. No judgment—no penalty required.

"Jeren," Elrohir interjected, "it was not that serious. Anardil, believe me. Father has suffered much worse from Elladan and I and has not so much as raised an eyebrow at us. She deserves no punishment at all. Father will see to her, you have no need to mete out any penalties."

Anardil's jaw visibly relaxed, and Elrohir relaxed as well. He always believed he knew Anardil, but the relationship between this father and daughter was quite different from any other he had ever been privy to.

"Jeren," Anardil began, but more quietly this time, "whatever possessed you to do such a thing? We owe the Lord of Imladris so very much as it is. What gives you the cheek to sass him in any way?"

"I know not, Papa," Jeren replied. Her voice was quavering, but anyone witnessing the girl speaking could tell she was trying her hardest not to cry. "Ever since—this—happened—I sometimes get angry so quickly, I say things before I can think what they may sound like to others. It happens of a sudden, so the words sneak from my mouth. To control them is nigh on to impossible, for I know not they are coming before they are already out in the air."

"And that is an entirely normal response to such trauma," Elrond said unexpectedly as he reentered the room. He stopped beside Jeren, placing one of his hands on one of her arms as they lay in her lap.

"I apologize again to you this morning, Jeren," the Elf lord said kindly. "I lost my temper with you, and that is inexcusable. You said nothing so wrong as to elicit such a response from me. I have my reasons for the reaction I exhibited, which I will not impart to you, but they are no excuse for treating you badly. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive a healer who should know better than to throw his scissors in anger and stomp from a room. It seems I could use some remedial work in bedside manner, as well, does it not?"

Jeren buried her face in her hands, and this time, she did begin to cry. She wished that she hadn't, for she very much wanted to speak plainly, so that Lord Elrond could understand every word of the heartfelt apology she wished to deliver to him now.

"I am sorry, Lord Elrond," Jeren said thickly. "You are the last person in the world I would ever wish to hurt. I cannot fathom what possessed me to say such an unkind remark. I hope you will still be my friend, even though I do not deserve it."

Elrond put his arms around the weeping girl, consoling her gently.

"Do not cry, Jeren," he said sweetly, "or you shall have me in tears as well. I wish not for your father to see me cry. It is not good for my image."

Jeren lifted her head and gave a little laugh, which brought forth a small groan from the pain of her broken ribs.

"There," Elrond said with a smile as he placed his fingertips beneath her chin. "That is much better. Just the way I like to see my girl—smiling. I see Elrohir has you bandaged once again. It seems he is the much better healer this morning than I am. I trust he removed the remainder of the stitches?"

"Yes," Jeren replied. "I wanted him to wait for you, but he would not do it. He is terribly hard-headed, you know."

Everyone laughed, save Elrohir, of course.

"Excuse me, young lady," Elrohir said crossly. "I could replace those stitches, and let Father remove them, if that is what would make you happier."

"Oh no, Elrohir," Jeren exclaimed quickly. "That is quite all right. I appreciate you finishing the job Lord Elrond started. Thank you ever so very much."

"That is better, young lady!" Elrohir said smugly. Then he narrowed his eyes and let a small smile cross his lips.

"Naith will be arriving shortly to administer your bath, Jeren," Elrond stated. "Have no fear, however; all of us of the male gender will be repairing to the veranda, just outside, for various and sundry discussions. Ah Elladan, I am glad to see you could rouse yourself at a reasonable hour this morning."

Elladan entered the Healing Halls, greeting everyone in turn. Jeren's eyes lit on the newcomer, and did not wander from his face. She did not know what it was about him that made her feel so completely good when he was near. He looked exactly like Elrohir, with a few simple differences she had begun to notice. His face was a fraction thinner. Elrohir's jaw was just the smallest bit squarer. Insignificant things such as these were the inconsistencies between them, at least physically. Personally, Elladan's warmth was a tangible thing. Jeren felt enveloped in it the minute he entered the room. It was as if he had an aura about him, and he would allow you to inhabit it with him, if he chose to let you. Elladan was as close to perfect as a man could get, in Jeren's eyes. She did not notice she considered him a man, and not an Elf at all.

Naith was indeed fast on Elladan's heels, and he held the door open for her as she guided her cart through it, laden with the bathing supplies she would need to tend to Jeren. As Naith pushed the cart toward Jeren's bed, Elladan bent and whispered something into her ear, causing the young female to blush and smile, and gently cuff him in the ribs. Elladan laughed lightly, and followed the rest of the 'men' as they left for their meeting out on the veranda. Jeren felt a stab of jealousy, watching the playful interaction of the two Elves. She wondered at her reaction briefly, but Naith was already busily speaking to her, so she soon forgot about her strange feelings.

Jeren was so much better in all respects, she no longer needed to be bandaged and poulticed in her 'nether regions'. The Orc bite on her arm was healing very well, and was now scabbed over. It would soon be only a scar. Jeren was thankful it was on the underside of her arm. She need not be reminded of her ordeal constantly by seeing it every time her arm was within her line of vision.

It took not long at all before she was once again refreshed and reclothed. Jeren sat in the chair while Naith changed the linen on the bed. Jeren thought again about the little exchange between Elladan and Naith just before the others had gone out onto the veranda.

"Naith," Jeren said, "if I am being too personal, please pardon me; but I am very curious. I noticed Elladan and you were very playful earlier. Is there anything between you? Are you his intended, or betrothed?"

Naith laughed lightly and replied, "No, Jeren, Elladan is a sweet and dear friend. We love each other as friends, not as mates. We will one day each choose spouses and bond with them for all time, at least that is what I believe we will do. No one, of course, knows the future."

"How is it among Elves, Naith?" Jeren asked with puzzlement. "I mean about—you know. Males and females—and things. Is it as it is with humans? Do Elves save themselves for marriage? Have the females to remain pure for their marriage beds?"

"Well, Jeren," Naith began, not knowing entirely how much Lord Elrond would wish for this youngling to truly know. She supposed there was no harm in telling Jeren of Elves. What harm could it do? The girl was human; knowledge of Elves would not pertain to her anyway. "With Elves, union of the body is a beautiful shared experience, and yes, it is an experience often shared outside of the marriage bed. However, once an Elf finds the one they love above all others, they feel a drive to bond with that Elf. That bond is sacred; it is our marriage bond, and once spoken and consummated, it cannot be broken—not even by death. They take no other lovers after they choose and bond with their one true love. Elves love deeply and bond only once in their entire lifetime. That does not mean that they do not share their beds with any others before they find their true loves, because most—but not all—do. We live such long lives, we would be lonely indeed were we to live without the physical closeness such as the union with the body of another brings. I hope this does not shock you, or cause you to think ill of Elves, but it is the truth, and it is what you asked me."

"Truthfully," Jeren admitted, "it is slightly shocking, simply because I am unused to the idea. However, I could never think ill of the Elves. You are all so kind and courageous and loyal, I can see how no one could ever think ill of you. I do wonder, though—" Jeren let her voice die off, for she was so curious about it all, but was terribly embarrassed to ask anyone such a personal question. Her curiosity finally won the battle.

"Naith," Jeren said, "answer not if this is too personal. I ask only because I am an ignorant young human. My mother died three years ago, and I have not her to ask, and I would never ask my father—the embarrassment would kill me. So I will ask you. Have you ever—?"

"Yes, Jeren," Naith said truthfully, "many times, but with lovers very sweet, whom I admire and love as friends above all."

Jeren's heart fell into her stomach at the choice of Naith's words. Lovers she admired and loved as friends above all. That is almost how she had explained her relationship with Elladan. Now Jeren wondered if Naith and Elladan had ever—? No, she just did not wish to know that. In fact, she wished for this conversation to be over completely.

"Thank you for being so honest with me Naith," Jeren said finally. "I hope I have not been too much of a pest. It is just that with having all this—happen to me—I know not what my future will bring. What man will want me, used as I am? And by what I was used."

"I wish I had some gems of wisdom to offer you, Jeren," Naith told the uncertain girl. "I know next to nothing of humans. You and your father are almost the only humans I have ever had contact with, besides Estel and his mother Gilraen, that is. Estel almost does not count, for he was raised here in the House of Elrond, almost as an Elf. They have both been gone for many years now, so even that small amount of knowledge I had acquired has been unused for quite some time. I know none of the customs or habits of your kind to speak of, so I cannot assure you one way or another. All I can say for sure is that a man would be foolish indeed, to pass up the beauty and innate grace that emanate from you, not to mention your courage and loyalty that shine through as well. I feel deep inside my heart that there is a mate for everyone upon Middle Earth, it is simply up to us to find them. It may be a long and hard search, but if we truly wish to be loved and to love in return, we should never give up hope or the search, until our goal has been met!"

Jeren smiled at Naith, for the Elf never failed to make her feel better. Elves seemed to have an inborn talent for that sort of thing.

"I thank you for your words of wisdom just the same, Naith," Jeren replied. The girl yawned deeply, covering her gaping maw with one hand, then stifling a giggle as soon as she could close her mouth. "Excuse me, my friend. I seem to be sinking, and growing tired again. It amazes me at how much of my strength has left me—amazes and angers me, I should say."

"You were very much hurt, Jeren," Naith commented solemnly. "I think you perhaps do not know just how badly you were injured. It will take quite some time before you are up to full strength again. Just wait until Lord Elrond puts you on a training schedule to rebuild your strength. It will seem somewhat easy at first, but by the time you complete it, you will be close to cursing his name."

Jeren laughed, and then groaned. "I will be happy to laugh again without pain. But for now, I must bid you good night, for I am afraid I may fall asleep before I have the chance to say it again. Thank you for all of your help, Naith. You are a true friend, and I appreciate you very much."

"It is my pleasure to assist you, Jeren," the Elf replied kindly. "For now, sleep. You still need much rest. When next you awaken, I suspect lunch will be served to you." Naith helped Jeren into the bed, covering her up and tucking her in once more. She gave her a pat on the hand just before she turned toward the door.

The bed felt so good to Jeren. She was fresh and clean. No stitches pulling and itching on her chest. The linen was fresh and smelled of the outdoors. She briefly wondered at what the 'men' were discussing on the veranda outside her door, but she did not wonder for long. She was soon sleeping blissfully, drifting as if on a cloud of comfort, hovering over the beauty of Imladris.

The three Elves and the ranger were sitting around the table on the veranda outside Jeren's room in the Healing Halls. The table had been furnished with four glasses and two bottles of wine before the meeting had begun, so before anyone started to speak, Elrohir appointed himself table steward, and began pouring drink for everyone. He then tasted the wine, and pronounced it excellent, thereby giving the meeting his permission to begin. Elrond gave him a dour look.

"Anardil," Elrond began, "you asked me yesterday how long I thought it would be before Jeren would be well enough to leave Imladris. I have thought about my answer, and it is one of contingency. Technically, she is well enough now, provided she has an escort and healing staff along with her that can see to all of her needs until she reaches her final destination, wherever that may be. In my opinion, however, it is much too soon. The danger of re-injuring her clavicle is high, and she has already been through enough with that particular injury, that I could not in good conscience give my blessing to allow her leave to depart at this time. I think it will be at least another month—my most confident opinion would be two months—before she is back to being close to as she was before this incident occurred."

"Where would you take her, Anardil?" Elladan asked quietly.

"I know not at the present," the ranger admitted. "I simply wanted a time frame with which to work. I have no close family, you know, so I would be visiting with Aragorn concerning Jeren; see who he would suggest would be the best family to place her with."

"And what does Jeren think of this idea?" Elrohir asked pointedly.

Anardil looked surprised by the question. "I know not, and it matters little. She must do what she must—and what I tell her to do. We have not many options. She will not stay in the house in the Angle. I doubt she will go back there, but even were she willing to, I am not willing to allow it. That leaves families of the Dunedain. We care for one another. We are, after all, family."

"I suppose it is Estel's position that gives him leave to decide a girl's future this way?" Elrohir asked, his ire just a breath away.

"It is the only way we have, Elrohir," Anardil exclaimed. "Need I remind you who the Dunedain are? We are descendants of Numenor, suspect by our close association to the line of Isildur. Our reputation has somehow become tainted. Perhaps by devices of evil. Who really knows? We are rangers—cold, ruthless, uncaring of anyone save ourselves. No one outside of our clan trusts us, save perhaps the Elves. It is not as if I have doting grandmothers or caring aunties to leave Jeren with. Think you that I am heartless, Elrohir? I know my daughter will not be happy, having her life decided for her this way. But there is no alternative. I tried it my way—and I failed miserably, to her extreme detriment, I might add. What would you have me do, Elrohir? Tell me that! You are so full of grand ideas, it seems—let us hear some of them!"

"Leave her here, for Valar's sake!" Elrohir exclaimed.

"Oh yes, that is quite the solution," Anardil exclaimed. "I owe you so much now, I may as well leech from you for the rest of my life! Is that the esteem you would wish that I hold for myself, Elrohir?"

"Which is most important, Anardil," Elrohir asked, his eyes flashing, "your esteem for yourself, or Jeren's happiness and welfare?"

"Enough!" Elrond said loudly. "This gets us nowhere."

Anardil and Elrohir both relaxed back into their chairs, each one taking up their wine glasses, and ingesting large swallows. Elrohir sat forward, and poured himself another glass, for he had emptied his. He then placed his elbows on the table, and rested his face in the palms of his hands. Elladan placed his hand on one of his shoulders, and leaned forward. Elrohir looked at his brother and smiled a half smile and shook his head. Elladan smiled back at him, and ran his hand down the back of Elrohir's head, silently telling him not to worry, they had seen Jeren this far, they would not let her down now.

Elrond drew himself up, and rose. Standing straight and tall, he made a pronouncement:

"Anardil, I am calling a council in two weeks time," Elrond declared. "The presence of the Dunedain Chieftain is strongly advised." He paced away a few steps, then turned back to face the others. "I will have the summons ready for your departure at first light. I deem you ready for duty. Do you agree?"

Anardil smiled, and said, "I do indeed deem myself so, and it shall be as you have decreed. I will bear the summons to our Chieftain, Aragorn son of Arathorn."

"So be it," Elrond said haughtily. It did his old heart good to summon his foster son home, after all these years. He may be Chieftain of the Dunedain, but he still called Elrond 'Father'. "Now, go and visit with your daughter, Anardil, and try not to find something to be hard on her about. The girl is much too serious, you know."

"Yes, my lord," Anardil said, and he walked away. He no longer needed his walking stick, and except for a bit of stiffness, which caused the slightest of limps, he was indeed back to ranger health.

As soon as Anardil was gone from the veranda, Elrond turned to his sons. They had risen when Elrond had made his decree, and their beaming smiles told the story of how they felt about seeing Estel again.

"The two of you I would like to accompany Anardil," Elrond said. "I think Estel will not refuse such a summons from me, but just in case he has any ideas about the importance of my council, I wish you to persuade him by whatever means necessary, that he had better make haste in getting back here. I gave him two weeks. Hopefully, he will be easily found, and it won't take all that time simply to locate the man. I want him to see Jeren, get to know her, and realize that Imladris is the place she should be. I would hate to begin war with the Dunedain over one of their own, but who knows? It may just come to that."

All three Elves laughed, and Elrond hugged his sons to him. He sincerely hoped he could talk sense into Estel. Anardil was going to be difficult to convince that Jeren's place was here. Deep in his heart, Elrond knew Aragorn would not be easily swayed either. Since his realization of his birthright, Aragorn had learned all there was to know of his ancestry, and was rightfully very proud of his heritage, for the most part. He would not treat this lightly at all.

"We have done it again, have we not, Father?" Elrohir asked casually.

"We have done what, Elrohir?" Elrond replied.

"We have fallen in love with another human, unfortunately," was his son's melancholy answer.

"We most certainly have, Brother," Elladan chimed in.

"We most assuredly have," Elrond said with certainty.