Enyalie

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Author: Etharei

*Many thanks to my excellent beta reader, Halo Son*

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One

Author's Notes:

Words in italics indicate thoughts.

The language used by the characters {in 'real-life'} is stated at the beginning of each section.

Thanks, Arabella Thorne! I'm so glad that you're still following it :-D

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Chapter Three: Acceptance

[Sindarin]

"Is aught wrong, Master Elrond?"

Elrond, hiding his surprise at having been startled, turned and smiled at the young woman approaching him. Gilraen was beautiful with her dark hair and delicate hazel eyes, but sorrow was etched deeply into her features, for she still mourned Arathorn even after 17 years. Elrond knew that seeing her son grow up with another as his father must have been painful for her, and perhaps that was why she was becoming absent from Estel's life of late. It had been a gradual fading into the background, and Elrond doubted if anyone else besides him had noticed. The elf lord sadly realised that she may no longer even see Estel as her son- her dreams of family had been crushed the day the orc-arrow claimed her husband's short life.

"No, Gilraen, I was simply thinking." She joined him, standing upon one of the balconies in Rivendell that overlooked the great waterfalls. He often came here when he was in need of solace and space to think.

There had been a distance between himself and the Dunadan once, but over the past year since a particularly unpleasant ordeal that still remained mostly a mystery to him, they had spoken more, and he had come to rely on her judgement. There was a shared feeling of responsibility between them now, a responsibility for protecting the hidden Heir of Isildur. And as he had come to see Estel as his own son, Gilraen, in her own way, had 'adopted' the twins. He remembered his shock and amusement at the first time he saw Gilraen's power over the twins in action. He had been walking to his study at a leisurely pace and had spotted an imminent disaster: Erestor with a mountain of parchment in his hands racing down an adjacent corridor, and a flash of dark hair betraying the twins' hidden positions further down the hall. Before he could step in, however, Gilraen had appeared, sending a most intimidating scowl at the twins' direction. Elrond laughed outright at the image of the twins- both at least a head taller then Gilraen- cowering against the wall as the human woman gave them a blistering tirade in a cool voice that tolerated nothing. For days after, Elrohir in particular lost his mischievous grin whenever he saw her.

For a while neither spoke. "Your son is growing into a fine young Man, my Lady. You should be proud of him; one day I foresee that he will become a great leader of his people, mayhaps even claim the throne of Gondor and Arnor."

She sighed heavily. The years seemed to weigh on her heavily that night. "That path he must choose for himself, and he must choose without knowing the path," she spoke softly, but with the surety of the foresight of the Dùnedain- a legacy, perhaps, of Elros. "And I shall not see it."

A chill went through Elrond. She was in a strange mood tonight, and he recognised it as similar to one who is acquainting herself to what fate had in store for her. Foresight brought knowledge, but more often than not this knowledge was more of a burden than a blessing.

"Will you leave us so soon, Gilraen?" Elrond had always suspected that Gilraen's sorrow, buried deep but never deep enough, would eventually claim her; yet he had hoped that she would at least see her son crowned the King of Men, and know that her years of carrying her grief were not in vain.

"Nay. I will tarry but a while longer, yet Estel is your son now, Master Elrond. Bringing my people's King into this world is a great honor, yet I do not know if it is worth the price to me."

Then he knew, and understood her sudden formality. She had been hinting it often. She wanted him to tell Estel of his heritage. He himself knew that the time was drawing near, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"He is not my son," he said softly. "Whatever I say, my people still see him as a Man, not as the son of their Lord. And sometimes… sometimes I wonder if it would be better for him to live with his own kind."

Gilraen's eyes blazed. "His own kind? Elrond, he is an elf, in all aspects of the word, save blood! He will be even more of an outsider amongst his 'own kind' than he had ever been here! Nay, his place is here, with his people."

"Gilraen," he tried to reason with her. "I know what you wish of me. But I… I cannot tell him. I wish to, yet I cannot help wondering if he will not be happier not knowing. We cannot be sure that he will be the one!" Even to his ears the last statement sounded false; he had known from the first day he had held Aragorn in his arms, and thus named him Estel.

Gilraen's voice softened. Slightly. "Do not deny your heart, Master Elrond. I concede that it is not yet time for him to know, but do not let your love for him affect your judgement. He will be safer knowing, for the Enemy will know of him, come time. He cannot stay here forever, Elrond."

Elrdon refused to meet her in the eye. Her words rang true, though he was puzzled as to what purpose she wanted to speak to him for, if not about telling Estel his heritage.. "What would you have me do, Gilraen?" He decided that looking at his father's star might steady his mind, yet even Earendil seemed distant that night. "I have given him my love and my home. I feel it is not enough, yet what else can I do?"

She was calm now, even managing to look a little sympathetic. It seemed an eternity before she eventually spoke. "Accept him into your House. Make him a Prince, equal to Elrohir."

Elrond froze. His first thought was that the idea was ludicrous. It was; granting a human the title of an elf-prince! The implications of it were enormous.

Yet… he would do it. For some reason it no longer mattered what the other elves thought. He was willing to break a thousand years' tradition! The thought almost made him grin- particularly Thranduil's reaction to it. It might even warrant a blink of surprise from Galadriel.

Maybe Celebrian had been right in saying that the twins took after their father…

"Thank you, Gilraen," he said softly, only to realise that the young woman had already disappeared. She knew she had won the day Estel first called Elrond Ada.

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The next morning...

"Are you ready, brother?" Elrohir poked his head into Estel's room as the he completed his inspection of his pack.

"I am now," replied the grinning human. Though their latest mission wasn't the most important or interesting one that he had volunteered on, nonetheless he felt thrilled to be out in the world again. Elrond would have credited his age for this exuberance, but Estel knew that his brothers, over a thousand years his senior, were feeling the same excitement. As much as they loved Imladris, the brothers were not made for staying indoors.

Three horses awaited them at the main entrance to the Last Homely House, one of which already bore Elladan. Elrond and several other elves of the household were also there to see them off. What Estel had not expected was his mother being there as well.

Though her constant companion Lauremir was beside her, Gilraen stood a little apart from the other elves. She greeted him with a small smile as she saw him approaching. Taking her leave of Lauremir, she beckoned for Estel to follow her and walked a fair distance from the group. It was apparent that the young woman wanted a quiet word with her son alone, so the elves kept their distance.

"There is something important that I must give to you. But first… Something ails your heart, my son. I feel that there is naught I can do to help you, yet will you open your heart to me?"

Estel, in his childhood, had always wondered if his mother had the ability to read minds. Perhaps that was a bit far-fetched, yet he knew that Gilraen could always tell if he was lying, of keeping something from her.

"You have never spoken much about my real father, mother. I wish to know more about out family."

She gazed at him in silence before speaking. "Will anything I say make you feel any differently towards your brothers and Lord Elrond?"

"No, of course not."

"Though many things I may perceive differently from Master Elrond, in this I follow his counsel. I believe that he has spoken to you about an important role you must play, yes?"

Estel nodded.

She smiled sadly at him, and Estel saw anguish in her eyes when she spoke again. "Master Elrond is your father now, Estel, as are Elladan and Elrohir your brothers. Your father is gone, and I will not be here forever."

Gilraen clasped his hand in hers. So tall now, she thought, almost a Man. The time is almost upon him. Valar, such a sacrifice I make for my people! Memory flashed before her, as it often did lately. So much like my dear Arathorn. But he is Estel, and will always be. He is not mine. Her heart clenched, but she pushed aside the never-ending grief in her heart. In her hand she held a small brooch, which she passed to Estel- and further separated herself from the child that was no longer hers.

"Lord Elrond wishes for you to have this. For elves, it is traditionally given when they come of age, but we feel that you should have yours now."

The brooch was small and surprisingly light. Estel gasped as he saw the insignia design on it. A six-pointed star in the centre branched off into a leaf shape, and it was fashioned in silver and mithril. But what had shocked Estel the most was the circlet in a tree motif that encircled the insignia.

She grinned at him now. "Hail, Estel son Elrond, Prince of Imladris!"

His jaw dropped. For a long time he could only stare at the delicate-looking brooch on the palm of his hand. He was beyond stunned. The insignia was that of the House of Peredhil, the circlet indicating further that the bearer was of the ruling family.

"Ammë… I… I cannot accept this!" he stammered.

"And why is that?" she said cooly. "You are as much a son of Elrond as Elladan or Elrohir, and is not Elrond the Lord of Imladris?"

"But Ammë! I'm... I'm..."

"Adan? Of the race of Men?" she shook her head in apparent amusement. "And I thought that you had learnt to see past such trivial matters. But you must take the brooch, Estel. Do not wear it openly outside Rivendell, for that would only attract unwanted attention. But you must have it on you always, a symbol of your true family. You shall be needing it in this journey, for I see much shadow and doubt, and ere the end of it you will make a choice in darkness." She kissed his brow. "No more can I say, and I bid you go with words of wisdom: Honour the blood in your veins, yet forget not that Elrond raised you as his own, and that Rivendell will always be your home."

Estel slowly nodded his understanding, and kissed the brooch in his hand before carefully pinning it on one of his inside tunics. "Thank you mother. I do not understand your words, but I trust your foresight. I only pray that one day I will be blessed with your wisdom."

She laughed, though this time her voice was tinged with sadness, and she kissed his brow and gave him her blessing. "You will, my son, though you may not think it a blessing. Fare you well, and return home when you may."

Silently they returned to the elves. Estel could see the curiosity in his brothers' eyes, but the twins knew when matters were not their business.

Elrond also had words to say, and father and son spoke quietly as Elrohir caused his version of a farewell joke by showing off his brand new bow and splitting some oranges thrown in the air. Unfortunately, the oranges also splattered onto the elves below. Estel wondered if Elrond sometimes employed his sons to develop an urge for a prank when an interruption to tediously long diplomatic negotiations was desperately needed.

"Thank you for the brooch, Ada."

Elrond smiled, imagining that Estel had probably been very reluctant to accept the insignia. He was still concerned on how his more conservative subjects would take this breach of tradition. But he was tired of listening to the opinion of others, and his heart could no longer be denied He loved and thought of the mortal as his own son, and by the Valar other elves should recognise this.

"It is but a brooch, my son. It is you that matters most. Though your mother had not specifically said so, I deem that she sees your need for it in the future." He winked. "She is still not so skilled at dressing her words as she things. In any case, if silver and mithril will bring you home safely, gladly will I pay ten score the price for my son."

Finally, all was ready (the twins co-incidentally ran out of oranges when Elrond and Estel broke apart). Estel mounted Fea, a spirited elven-bred chestnut mare with a proud bearing. The elves of Imladris bade them farewell and safe journey in turn, and Elrond himself addressed the three siblings.

"Once again my sons do their part in keeping the Shadow at bay. Pray return safely and speedily, and remember always that Eärendil above watches over you and will guide you home when all other lights fade."

The last part was directed to Estel, for in truth Elrond was troubled at heart, and had begun to sense the darkness on this mission that doubtless Gilraen had long foreseen. The Lord of Imladris sent a silent prayer to the Valar for his beloved sons' safe return.

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