Memories.
Arwen stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Laughter drifted from nearby, followed by a clear voice raised in song. Her hand trailed along the banister as she descended the stairs leading from the balcony to the garden, lips moving in silent prayers to Elbereth that no one would see her. A dark cloak of a blue so deep it appeared nearly black fell in velvety folds around her, trailing lightly on the ground and hiding her grey dress from view. She reached up with one hand and deftly pulled the hood down over her face, gliding quickly through the flowered arrangements and disappearing into the shadows of the trees.
Looking behind to make sure no one had seen her, she smiled sadly and threw the hood back from her face, shaking her near black waves loose. She slipped the cloak from her shoulders and let it fall unceremoniously to the ground. The gentle singing from the gardens floated through the air and she walked in time to its melancholy tune. The keen air whistled, whipping her hair into her face. The cold wind was a relief, producing an almost numbing effect as it cooled her warm ears.
Aragorn.
The name drifted through her mind yet again, perhaps the millionth time for that day and yet the ache it brought still induced such heartbreaking pain. She sat down on a bench with a sigh, running her hand over its cold surface. Cold and unfeeling. She heard the gentle sounds of nearly inaudible footsteps and turned to face the unheralded and unwanted intrusion.
Elrohir. Her eyes slipped down to stare intently at her pale hands as they lay in her lap, a stark contrast to the dark fabric, grey as a stormy night. She listened as he walked closer and waited for him to speak.
"Arwen?" he asked quietly, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she answered, raising her head to look him in the eye, "Yes, I'm fine."
He sat down beside her, smiling and hugging her gently. "I thought I would find you here. I wanted to say goodbye, Elladan and I leave in the morning to ride north."
"Will you be gone long this time?" she inquired, hugging him tightly back.
"I don't know, Arwen."
"I will miss you, as always,"
"We ride to visit the Dunedain. It is long since I have looked upon their dwelling, not for many years in their reckoning." He thought a moment. "I do not think I have set foot there since Arathorn was slain." his voice filled with hurt, "I can still see Aragorn, looking up at me with tear filled eyes and asking me where his daddy was."
"How young was he when he came to live here?"
"He was so small, he could not have been any older then three or four. Gilraen was so distraught at the news, and then to have her son taken and raised away from her with the elves, it must have been heartbreaking." A smile crossed his face at some old memory, "He certainly added energy to Imladris, though."
Arwen looked at him with an amused glance, "how so?"
"He was the funniest rascal when he was young; so alive and ready to cause mischief. He would slip things into the food that would make it spicy and unfit to eat or set up some elaborate scheme to get Elladan and me absolutely filthy from head to toe. You wouldn't believe some of the ideas the little scoundrel cooked up."
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Estel broke into a run heading down the halls, sliding to a halt at the corner to peer around and make sure the coast was clear. His dark hair tumbled into his eyes and he brushed it away impatiently, swaying on his feet as he gazed determinedly at the door at the end of the hall. One more dash and he was safe. He tightened his hold on the bag clenched in his hand and prepared to sprint when.
"Estel!"
He froze, nearly toppling over from the sudden halt. He made an undignified attempt to right himself, but only succeeded in getting his feet caught in the long leather strap attached to the bag and tumbled abruptly to the floor. A gentle hand reached down and helped him to his feet, but the boy was not relieved as he gazed into the hazy grey eyes of the Lord of Imladris, towering over him. Elrond got down on one knee and stared Estel in the eye.
Estel much preferred having Elrond tower over him then meet his gaze with such intensity and lowered his eyes to stare intently at the flooring beneath him, fascinated with a slight crack in the stone.
"Estel, what are doing?"
The young boy quickly grabbed the bag and unsuccessfully tried to hide the large object behind his small back. "Nothing" he muttered, shifting uncertainly on his feet. Elrond gently but firmly took Estel's chin in his hand, not normally this serious with the lad, but still rather irritated over a recent occurrence involving mud, a tablecloth, and several squirrels.
"You sure?"
Estel fell silent, his shoulders slumping guiltily. Elrond looked behind him, "May I see what's in the bag?" The human's eyes nearly doubled in size but he hesitantly handed it over, turning a slightly pinker color as Elrond opened the bag and studied its contents. He sighed and pulled out several glass containers marked in the youngling's scraggly writing, with such titles as "itching dust" and "hot sauce". Elrond frowned and selected a specially decorated vial marked "secret". He held it up and gave Estel a look that said "you better tell the truth or so help me" and spoke, "Estel, what is this?"
"Uh."
"Well?"
"It's a secret." He jutted his bottom lip out and folded his arms sternly, "I can't tell you or it won't be a secret."
Elrond held the container up to the light. The light played quite prettily through the scarlet red liquid. There was quite a lot of it, the glass's circumference was larger then his hand could spread around, and it was the length of a wine glass. He chuckled at Estel's stubbornness and continued to rummage through the bag. Rags, several lengths of rope, a pillowcase with the bottom filled with dirt and weeds, as well as several other odds and ends.
"Very well," he smiled, standing and gathering everything into the bag and closing it, "You may keep your secret, and I shall keep this. Please try to stay out of trouble, Estel." He sighed and then turned to leave, pausing, "oh yes, I believe Glorfindel wanted to see you later, he said it was important."
"Yes, Ada," the boy murmured, waiting for his foster father to disappear around the corner before smiling and reaching behind a table to extract a bottle filled with a murky blue substance, a grin spreading across his face. Ada may have been able to steal his other tools, but he had managed to sneak this behind the table while falling in order to save it from being seized by Lord Elrond.
He darted a look around before dashing into his room to concoct a plot with his newest device.
***********************************************************
The sun rose in bright glory the next day, spilling brilliant rays over the mountains into the valley, flooding the house nestled within with light. Elrond sat up with a smile, glad that yesterday had passed without incident, thanks to his discovery. He climbed out of bed and hoped that today would go just as well.
He entered the bathroom and instantly stopped. Smeared all across his face in strangely uniformed patterns was dark blue ink. He immediately stooped over the basin of water that had been set out the night before, scrubbing his face with soap and rinsing it, praying desperately that it would wash off. He hesitantly looked up and nearly yelled.
The dark paint stood starkly out from his pale skin. All through the city, elves were waking up in the same predicament. The door to Estel's room burst open and Elrond rushed in, followed closely by Elrohir and Elladan, all furious. The Lord of Imladris reached over and pulled the blankets off the bed, ready to give Estel a piece of his mind, then stopped, sighing harshly.
"He's gone, of course." He looked out the window into the bright morning, "He'll be back, probably sometime this evening, hoping that anger and paint will both have begun to fade." He turned and left, going back to his room to attempt to scrub the evil substance off.
Hidden up in a tree with a sack filled with breakfast, lunch, and possibly dinner, Estel laughed happily to himself, thrilled with his newest prank and convinced that whatever punishment he might receive would be well worth it.
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Arwen laughed merrily at the tale, finding it hard to see her Aragorn as being a prankster. Elrohir grinned broadly at the memory, funny though it was now, it had not been so then. Aragorn had grown up well enough, though, despite his rascally beginnings.
Arwen stood and hugged her brother tightly, smiling. "Thank you, Elrohir," she giggled, "It felt good to laugh; it has been too long since I had reason to." Elrohir bowed formally.
"Anything for you, my lady."
She laughed at him and glanced over at the horizon. "Elrohir! It grows late, and you must rise early tomorrow."
"Indeed I must." He leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek, "Then I fear this is goodbye."
"Farewell." Arwen's eyes watched him as he walked away and disappeared from her sight amid the trees. She shifted and laid down on the bench, staring up at the sky until she drifted off into dreams.
Arwen stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Laughter drifted from nearby, followed by a clear voice raised in song. Her hand trailed along the banister as she descended the stairs leading from the balcony to the garden, lips moving in silent prayers to Elbereth that no one would see her. A dark cloak of a blue so deep it appeared nearly black fell in velvety folds around her, trailing lightly on the ground and hiding her grey dress from view. She reached up with one hand and deftly pulled the hood down over her face, gliding quickly through the flowered arrangements and disappearing into the shadows of the trees.
Looking behind to make sure no one had seen her, she smiled sadly and threw the hood back from her face, shaking her near black waves loose. She slipped the cloak from her shoulders and let it fall unceremoniously to the ground. The gentle singing from the gardens floated through the air and she walked in time to its melancholy tune. The keen air whistled, whipping her hair into her face. The cold wind was a relief, producing an almost numbing effect as it cooled her warm ears.
Aragorn.
The name drifted through her mind yet again, perhaps the millionth time for that day and yet the ache it brought still induced such heartbreaking pain. She sat down on a bench with a sigh, running her hand over its cold surface. Cold and unfeeling. She heard the gentle sounds of nearly inaudible footsteps and turned to face the unheralded and unwanted intrusion.
Elrohir. Her eyes slipped down to stare intently at her pale hands as they lay in her lap, a stark contrast to the dark fabric, grey as a stormy night. She listened as he walked closer and waited for him to speak.
"Arwen?" he asked quietly, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she answered, raising her head to look him in the eye, "Yes, I'm fine."
He sat down beside her, smiling and hugging her gently. "I thought I would find you here. I wanted to say goodbye, Elladan and I leave in the morning to ride north."
"Will you be gone long this time?" she inquired, hugging him tightly back.
"I don't know, Arwen."
"I will miss you, as always,"
"We ride to visit the Dunedain. It is long since I have looked upon their dwelling, not for many years in their reckoning." He thought a moment. "I do not think I have set foot there since Arathorn was slain." his voice filled with hurt, "I can still see Aragorn, looking up at me with tear filled eyes and asking me where his daddy was."
"How young was he when he came to live here?"
"He was so small, he could not have been any older then three or four. Gilraen was so distraught at the news, and then to have her son taken and raised away from her with the elves, it must have been heartbreaking." A smile crossed his face at some old memory, "He certainly added energy to Imladris, though."
Arwen looked at him with an amused glance, "how so?"
"He was the funniest rascal when he was young; so alive and ready to cause mischief. He would slip things into the food that would make it spicy and unfit to eat or set up some elaborate scheme to get Elladan and me absolutely filthy from head to toe. You wouldn't believe some of the ideas the little scoundrel cooked up."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Estel broke into a run heading down the halls, sliding to a halt at the corner to peer around and make sure the coast was clear. His dark hair tumbled into his eyes and he brushed it away impatiently, swaying on his feet as he gazed determinedly at the door at the end of the hall. One more dash and he was safe. He tightened his hold on the bag clenched in his hand and prepared to sprint when.
"Estel!"
He froze, nearly toppling over from the sudden halt. He made an undignified attempt to right himself, but only succeeded in getting his feet caught in the long leather strap attached to the bag and tumbled abruptly to the floor. A gentle hand reached down and helped him to his feet, but the boy was not relieved as he gazed into the hazy grey eyes of the Lord of Imladris, towering over him. Elrond got down on one knee and stared Estel in the eye.
Estel much preferred having Elrond tower over him then meet his gaze with such intensity and lowered his eyes to stare intently at the flooring beneath him, fascinated with a slight crack in the stone.
"Estel, what are doing?"
The young boy quickly grabbed the bag and unsuccessfully tried to hide the large object behind his small back. "Nothing" he muttered, shifting uncertainly on his feet. Elrond gently but firmly took Estel's chin in his hand, not normally this serious with the lad, but still rather irritated over a recent occurrence involving mud, a tablecloth, and several squirrels.
"You sure?"
Estel fell silent, his shoulders slumping guiltily. Elrond looked behind him, "May I see what's in the bag?" The human's eyes nearly doubled in size but he hesitantly handed it over, turning a slightly pinker color as Elrond opened the bag and studied its contents. He sighed and pulled out several glass containers marked in the youngling's scraggly writing, with such titles as "itching dust" and "hot sauce". Elrond frowned and selected a specially decorated vial marked "secret". He held it up and gave Estel a look that said "you better tell the truth or so help me" and spoke, "Estel, what is this?"
"Uh."
"Well?"
"It's a secret." He jutted his bottom lip out and folded his arms sternly, "I can't tell you or it won't be a secret."
Elrond held the container up to the light. The light played quite prettily through the scarlet red liquid. There was quite a lot of it, the glass's circumference was larger then his hand could spread around, and it was the length of a wine glass. He chuckled at Estel's stubbornness and continued to rummage through the bag. Rags, several lengths of rope, a pillowcase with the bottom filled with dirt and weeds, as well as several other odds and ends.
"Very well," he smiled, standing and gathering everything into the bag and closing it, "You may keep your secret, and I shall keep this. Please try to stay out of trouble, Estel." He sighed and then turned to leave, pausing, "oh yes, I believe Glorfindel wanted to see you later, he said it was important."
"Yes, Ada," the boy murmured, waiting for his foster father to disappear around the corner before smiling and reaching behind a table to extract a bottle filled with a murky blue substance, a grin spreading across his face. Ada may have been able to steal his other tools, but he had managed to sneak this behind the table while falling in order to save it from being seized by Lord Elrond.
He darted a look around before dashing into his room to concoct a plot with his newest device.
***********************************************************
The sun rose in bright glory the next day, spilling brilliant rays over the mountains into the valley, flooding the house nestled within with light. Elrond sat up with a smile, glad that yesterday had passed without incident, thanks to his discovery. He climbed out of bed and hoped that today would go just as well.
He entered the bathroom and instantly stopped. Smeared all across his face in strangely uniformed patterns was dark blue ink. He immediately stooped over the basin of water that had been set out the night before, scrubbing his face with soap and rinsing it, praying desperately that it would wash off. He hesitantly looked up and nearly yelled.
The dark paint stood starkly out from his pale skin. All through the city, elves were waking up in the same predicament. The door to Estel's room burst open and Elrond rushed in, followed closely by Elrohir and Elladan, all furious. The Lord of Imladris reached over and pulled the blankets off the bed, ready to give Estel a piece of his mind, then stopped, sighing harshly.
"He's gone, of course." He looked out the window into the bright morning, "He'll be back, probably sometime this evening, hoping that anger and paint will both have begun to fade." He turned and left, going back to his room to attempt to scrub the evil substance off.
Hidden up in a tree with a sack filled with breakfast, lunch, and possibly dinner, Estel laughed happily to himself, thrilled with his newest prank and convinced that whatever punishment he might receive would be well worth it.
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Arwen laughed merrily at the tale, finding it hard to see her Aragorn as being a prankster. Elrohir grinned broadly at the memory, funny though it was now, it had not been so then. Aragorn had grown up well enough, though, despite his rascally beginnings.
Arwen stood and hugged her brother tightly, smiling. "Thank you, Elrohir," she giggled, "It felt good to laugh; it has been too long since I had reason to." Elrohir bowed formally.
"Anything for you, my lady."
She laughed at him and glanced over at the horizon. "Elrohir! It grows late, and you must rise early tomorrow."
"Indeed I must." He leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek, "Then I fear this is goodbye."
"Farewell." Arwen's eyes watched him as he walked away and disappeared from her sight amid the trees. She shifted and laid down on the bench, staring up at the sky until she drifted off into dreams.