.

The next morning, Aragorn lay looking at the wooden crossbeams of his bedroom ceiling, watching them become more distinct as the sun rose, torn between languishing in bed and nursing his cold, thus avoiding any confrontation or getting up and confronting Arwen and Elrond anyhow.

Sneezing as he sat up, Aragorn rubbed his head, which felt stuffed up and achey. Elrond's tisane had worked well through the night, but it was time for another one.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Aragorn put his head in his hands, recalling his real problem. What were he and Arwen going to do? How could they hurt the one who had loved and raised them both and live with themselves? More importantly, how could they stop the pain and get him to understand?

Sighing, he flopped back on the mattress. Too much thinking at this hour of the morning made his already painful head worse.

The door opened and Aragorn sat up quickly, grimacing, praying it would not be Elrond.

Arwen slipped next to him on the bed and kissed him on the cheek. He turned and silently held her, his heart normally glad to see her, now heavy thinking about last night.

He kissed her forehead and stood. "Arwen what are we going to do? Ada is very hurt by all this....but I love you!" He brought a hand up to his forehead, "And my head hurts."

"Poor love." She kissed him again and went to his window overlooking a cascade of terraced lawns. "Ada will come to understand Aragorn. He was in love once himself, and still is." She turned to him. "Come, get dressed and meet me in the main dinning hall." Wrapping her arms around him she lay her head on his chest for a moment. The she pulled away with a wry look. "You are congested Aragorn, I can hear it in your breathing. Ada will not take your head off, you best go see him."

Aragorn nodded slowly and turned to get dressed, Arwen slipping out the door.

Aragorn went straight to the dining hall, deciding a meeting with his father would go better on a full stomach.

The hall was less than half full when Aragorn joined Arwen at the high table. Elrond thankfully was not present and had probably eaten earlier in his rooms, as was his want.

But looking at his breakfast, Aragorn was not hungry and pushed it away, only drinking a large goblet of fruit juice. Arwen frowned at him saying. "My love you need to eat something! You cannot confront Ada on an empty stomach! Besides, you must get rid of the cold. Did you not tell me you had messages to take to Mirkwood soon?"

"Yes I do." He sneezed again and brought out his handkerchief. "I need to leave in a week if I am to meet up with two rangers outside of Rhosgobel." He sneezed again and rose for the table. "Arwen love," he bent over and kissed her, his eyes softening, "everything will be all right. I swear it." He brought a hand up and ran it down her cheek. Pushing his chair back, he turned and almost ran down Elrond, who was just stepping behind him to go to his customary chair.

Elrond grabbed Aragorn by the arm and looked at him for a moment and then said dryly, "Estel, it is my educated opinion as a healer, you need to take to your bed and sleep off this cold."

Aragorn, about to argue, was stopped by Elrond's raised hand and the look on his father's face. "As your father, I am many millennia your elder and worthy of respect. Humor me: Do as I ask." He was slightly smiling, one eyebrow raised.

Aragorn sneezed so hard, it made his head hurt. He nodded silently and went past his father wiping his nose. Elrond looked at the drooping back of his son and shook his head with a slight smile. He went and sat next to his daughter, who had half risen from her seat, mouth slightly open at their interchange. Her father put a finger under her chin and pushed up slightly, closing her mouth.

Elrond sat down and was immediately served, waving away the ewer of fruit juice and settling for tea. "Good morning Arwen. I trust you slept well?" Arwen immediately swiveled to face the remains of her breakfast, hastily picking up her goblet and nodding into its depths.

Elrond smiled as he picked up his fork and speared a piece of cut up fruit. He continued to eat and make small talk until his meal was finished. Arwen sat before her empty plate and looked out into the dining hall, untenanted except by the elves clearing the tables and laying clean linens.

When Elrond put down his napkin he turned to look at his daughter, who studiously avoided his gaze and a small shadow of sorrow crossed his face.

"Do not freeze me out with cold silence my love. If I must, I can wait a long time. I have had much practice."

Arwen turned at that, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Father, oh father, do not hate me... us!" she covered her face with a hand, bowing her head. Scraping his chair back, he waved away the elf behind him and went to his daughter, pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in a strong, unbreakable hug. "I will never ever hate you my Undomiel. Not when the world stops and the stars fall from the skies. I love you, who are so much a part of my soul." He pulled her away from her to look at her, his grey eyes dark and warm. "I do not hate Estel, either." He pulled her to him again. "I just wish things had fallen out differently is all. As would any father when confronted with such a situation."

About to defend Aragorn, Arwen found her head pressed to her father's chest, his hand slowly stroking her hair, his strong heart beating under one ear. She closed her eyes and gulped convulsively and put her arms around her father's waist. "Oh Ada!" And she let herself cry at last, and her father closed his eyes in pain, letting the storm blow itself out against his strength. A strength he had built pain by pain over his long life.

When her cries had settled into intermittent hiccups, Elrond straightened her, and putting her arm around her waist led her out of the dining hall and to her room. "Take a moment to freshen up my love. I shall be with Estel, who I imagine will be as stubborn about his cold as he was when he was five."

She laughed unevenly. "He always hated being sick!

"And well I know it!" Elrond turned and went to his still room and blended up a stronger tisane for Aragorn.

As he brought the tea with him, he smiled as he paused outside Aragorn's room. Perhaps some of this was just malingering and avoidance. But he shook his head, Aragorn did not usually do either, dodge responsibility nor let situations hang unresolved.

But, this was love, so anything was possible.

Knocking briskly, he went in and found Aragorn just sitting on the edge of the bed, hands hanging between his knees, looking completely unfocused.

Sighing, Elrond could see his son was really miserable and not malingering. Setting the tea aside, he touched Aragorn briefly on the shoulder and his son looked up at him smiling crookedly.

"Stand up Estel, let me help you undress."

A small bit of pride stirred in Aragorn and not about to be treated as a child, he stood up, weaving slowly and carefully unbuttoned his long tunic and pulled it off awkwardly, getting one arm inexplicably stuck. Elrond silently helped him straighten out.

While Aragorn stood there, Elrond slipped behind him and pulled down the blankets. Pushing the un-resistant man down, he swung his legs onto the bed and pulled off his soft boots. Flinging the blanket over him, he moved the pillows around so Aragorn could sleep slightly propped up. He then brought him the tea, which he drank with no fuss. Elrond, enjoyed being the father/healer at the moment as how many more chances would he have to care for Aragorn? Brushing the slightly damp hair off his son's forehead, he smiled down at his tired face.

"Sleep Estel. Do not let worry trouble your dreams. I love you my wayward Dunadan."

With a yawn, Aragorn's eyes shut and he slept.

With one last fond look, he went back to Arwen's room.

He found his daughter out on the terrace outside her bedroom, sitting in a chair, feet pulled up and head on knees, turned away from his approach.

Elrond stood behind her, looking at the view her terrace provided. A garden of ferns and flowering vines was immediately below, as one adventuresome creeper twined around the stone balustrade the edged the tiled area. The creeper was covered in purple blooms that gave off a slightly sweet scent.

Picking a flower he brought it over to her, she had uncurled and was sitting, watching him, and dropped it her lap.

"What are its uses?"

"Makes a good expectorant, helps with congestion, blends well with several other herbs, especially asphodel, merrinith and gafanal. It would be good for Aragorn's cold."

"So my lessons were not forgotten."

"No, Ada. Elladan has always just been more zealous than Elrohir and I. Actually," she looked down at the flower twirling in her fingers, "I always envied the twins roaming with the Rangers. That is why I practiced forever sword and archery."

"And you are quite accomplished in that area as well."

Arwen stood and went to the balustrade, tearing at the leaves of the vine curling under her hands. "But you are not here to discuss my talents are you Adar." She turned, leaning back on both hands and staring at her father evenly, "Unless it is my current talent for hurting you."

Elrond stepped forward, a hand held out placatingly. She waved it away and said, "No, no do not forgive me! Aragorn and I have hurt you! Admit it! Raise your voice and show us your anger!" Stepping forward she peered at her father's smooth expression. "Do not just forgive us!"

"What would you have me do Arwen? Cast both of you from my heart?" He turned, facing into her suite. "Do you not understand Arwen? If you marry Aragorn, you will be giving up your immortality? You will never go West? Never see your mother again? Or any of the other members of your family? Your love is not just a matter between you and Aragorn, it has long reaching implications. Especially if he becomes King."

Elrond sighed heavily, his gray-green robe rustling as he turned to face her once more.

"I can only tell you what is in my heart and mind my love. I cannot dictate to you your choice, especially in matters of the heart. But I tell you now, Aragorn must be King of Gondor before he marries you....I would not have you give up your immortality to become the grieving widow of a Ranger and possibly a mother, after having only a year of Aragorn's love because he got killed in some orc raid or got thrown from a spooked horse while carrying messages between here and Mirkwood."

Elrond turned away again. "Besides, you deserve a King. I did not raise you to be a hedgerow wife. And he needs to prove to me, he is worthy of your hand. And that is the father in me speaking."

He made to leave, and paused by the open doors leading into her rooms.

But he had said enough. For now.

Arwen could not hear the door close as he left.

Elrond rubbed a hand across his forehead as he made his slow way to his study.

As he came upon Aragorn's room, he paused and went in.

His son was sleeping, mouth open, breathing heavily. Elrond came up to him and a lay a hand gently on his chest. It was congested, but not dangerously so. His hand moved to his forehead, where he was gratified to feel his fever was abating.

Stepping away from his son, he stood at the foot of the bed thinking, "How the storm swirls around you Estel! You did not ask to be born as the Heir of Isildur! You did not know that at age two, you would enter Rivendell and all our lives. And you did not know that you would break my oft-repaired heart when you met my Undomiel. The world is darker and the need for stealth and bravery grows. This may indeed, be your hour."

Sighing, the Lord of Imladris left quietly and continued on to his study. Going to a nearby cabinet, he pulled out a particularly well-aged bottle of apricot mead and filled a goblet.

The glass quickly emptied as he sought uncharacteristically to blunt his pain and he poured another. This he took with him to the large mullioned window and stared out over the grounds of Rivendell. His home. His refuge.

And like so many homes: The chicks were fleeing the nest.

He grinned ruefully at his analogy and at his reflection in the glass. Was it time to find a hobby? And settle into obscurity before the call of the sea became too great? Even Elladan and Elrohir were here so infrequently.

No, no, not quite yet. The world was still unsettled. Still needed help. Mankind had still not gained their ascendancy, as they should. The next Age would be theirs.

There was still no united kingdom and still, no King of Gondor. Yet.

That evening, Elrond stood with Aragorn, each sipping mead and wrapped in their silence, watching the sunset laying its peaceful light softly across Rivendell.

Finally, uncomfortable with the prolonged silence, the elf lord said quietly, "Come, put your glass down. Speak to me."

Aragorn did as he asked, setting the silver goblet on the stone railing beneath his hand.

Elrond turned to his son memorizing his thoughtful face with down-turned eyes, the evening light warming it gently.

He brought a hand up. "Estel, please."

Aragorn turned away from his father's hand and looked off to the side.

"If you do not think I am worthy of Arwen, refuse us. But to declare me exile.!"

"I do this because I must Estel! Exile will focus your attention on your destiny. You will either thrive on the danger inherent in these times, especially for a Ranger, knowing you cannot fall back on aid from me---or you will fail and fade into obscurity. Only in the direst of circumstances may you return. Or if I bid you."

Elrond looked off over the balcony again. "Events are moving swiftly toward the Dark again, Estel and Middle Earth will need all her sons and daughters to defend her."

"What of Arwen?" Aragorn could not resist asking in a low voice.

"Arwen will go reside in Lothlorien, as has been her want since her mother departed over the sea." He took his son by the arm, making him look at him. "And do not think to visit her there, Estel, again, unless your life is in danger, you will not pass into Caras Galadhon."

Aragorn nodded, knowing it was true. He sighed, shoulders slumping.

Silence stretched into minutes, the only sound disturbing the two was a water bird skirling its cry through the air as it settled near the river.

Aragorn turned to his father. The sun highlighted his deep brown hair and sparkled in his eyes.

Wait. He peered closer. Were his father's eyes glittering because of sunlight or because tears filled them?

Aragorn stepped closer.

His Ada.standing here, always helping, healing, giving advice---- surrounded by his mantle of years and wisdom---alone.

Seeing that Elrond had placed his goblet on the stone railing beneath his hand, Aragorn swallowed the sudden surge of pain in his heart and went and wrapped his arms around his father's tall unbending form, hugging him tight, not saying anything. His thoughts about he and Arwen stilled into nothingness. All he could feel now was his father's pain and loneliness.

Elrond returned his hug with alacrity, pulling Aragorn's head to his shoulder and running a hand slowly down his hair.

Aragorn heard the slight hitching of his father's breath and closed his eyes in sorrow.

He suddenly pulled out of the embrace and stared into his father's dark gray eyes, suspiciously moist, and putting his hands on Elrond's face, tilted him forward to place a kiss on his brow.

Turning silently, lest his voice betray him, Aragorn went into the house.

A week had gone by and the emotional currents had gone deep, though on the surface now, all was outwardly normal.

Aragorn's cold had cleared up and he was ready to travel with the Rangers.

He stood in the early morning light, in the stable courtyard, checking the girth on his horse one last time.

One last time.

The thought echoed through his mind and he looked up at the roof line of the Last Homely House, the sun throwing sharp shadows from turrets and other roof line elements. Vines and creepers and hoary old trees softened the angles of the centuries old refuge. So many memories permeated the walls and ran laughing through the gardens. So many.

He leaned on his horse's saddle, swallowing a sob. When, if ever would he see this again?

His father! When? And his beloved Arwen...how?

Slapping his stallion on the flank, he went around the horse and saw Elrond and Arwen framed in the courtyard archway. They silently came across the smooth stones, both of their faces grave.

Elrond came forward, while Arwen held back. The elf lord looked far into his son's soul. Saw the uncertainty, the love and ultimately the resolution to move forward.

Perhaps Gondor would find its king, its very soul, in this man.

Approaching Aragorn, he pulled him into one last hug and kissed him on the forehead.

"Go with my love Estel. Safe journey."

"Thank you Ada, for everything." He kissed his father on the cheek as he hugged him back, feeling words were inadequate. "I love you." His eyes slid from his father's after a moment and looked over his shoulder at Arwen's slight form.

Elrond stepped away and moved off.

Arwen ran to Aragorn and flung herself into his arms.

"Oh my beloved, always, always in my heart! I will wait forever."

"As I will count the days my love." The two kissed long and deeply, heedless of their father's watching.

Finally, Aragorn pulled away and without looking at either of them, mounted his horse and spurred him past the watching elves, out the gate and into the annuals of history.



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Well, this is the end of this particular story...and it is more angsty than I had envisioned.......I just couldn't see where to add levity because it is such a serious issue for all. Hope you enjoyed the tale anyway!