::Progression::

Disclaimer: Whatever belongs to Tolkien belongs to him.

A/N: Seeing as to that most of my Lord of the Rings fics were either flops or humour, I decided that, for a change, I would write a serious one. So here you have it, Aragorn's life story, from Estel to Elessar, coupled together with the slight history of the house of Elrond. Slightly AU and quite out of cannon, though, to give you prior warning. The story will be pretty long, as there will be considerably number of chapters progressing for each stage of Aragorn's life. Enjoy! *Update!* Another update, major changes in first two chapters...

*Second update!* As to AfterEver's tips, I'm changing both chapters! Sorry if it seems really out of cannon and lame, but I never really got a hang of creativity and I'm only twelve! Ah well, you live, you learn. Thanks, AfterEver, I'll try to redo it, especially after re-reading the appendixes again. *whacks head with the Return of the King*

*

Somewhere in Minas Tirith, Gilraen the Fair, wife to Arathorn, turned uneasily in her sleep and unconsciously clutched her two year old son, Aragorn, closer to her breast protectively. Something was afoot.

*

'Elladan!'

Somewhere through the raging mass of fighting orcs, men and elves, Elladan heard the voice of his twin, Elrohir, rising above the chaos. There was distress in that voice. As Elladan hewed off the head of the last of the orcs that had ambushed and raided them, he shouted back.

'Elrohir?'

He saw his identical twin weave his way through the carnage to him. Panting from exertion and the suddenness of the attack, Elrohir placed a hand upon his brother's shoulder and stopped to catch his breath. Elladan could see unrest in those grey eyes as he helped to steady his brother. Bowing his head, Elrohir muttered softly.

'Arathorn is slain, hit through the eye by an orc shaft. There was nothing he or I could do.'

*

Elladan and Elrohir together with the small small company of elves and men went to Minas Tirith to bring Gilraen and Aragorn to Rivendell. The lady was distraught at the news, but stayed strong as she hugged Aragorn closer to her.

'Then the foresight of Ivorwen was true. The life of Aragorn was short-lived indeed. To Rivendell, as all the heirs of Isildur have gone, Aragorn must go. Come.'

So the strong Lady Gilraen was not conquered in the darkness of the loss of her husband, but instead stood strong for young Aragorn, two years and innocent still to the world, hunted as the last living Heir to Isildur. The Sons of Elrond marvelled at her courage, and brought her in honour back to their father.

*

Upon arriving, Gilraen, still holding Aragorn protectively against her, was shown to Elrond's study. Aragorn, small, tired from the long journey, yawned sleepily and he snuggled closer, oblivious to the world around him and the danger of being who he was. Elrond rose from his place at the table in welcoming.

'Rivendell welcomes you and your son, Lady Gilraen.'

Gilraen nodded mutely, her face haggard from the long journey, and lines of sorrow were left clear on her once joyful face as she sat in one of the ornately carved chairs. Elrond shifted uncomfortably in his own seat, trying to be as sympathetic as possible towards her. Gently, he went on.

'I know that these times are filled with grief for you, lady, but I implore you to understand what I have to say. Young Aragorn is the last hope of the Dunedain. It is of great importance that he be concealed from the evils of Arda and kept safe. I put forth this proposal to you: Let Aragorn stay here in Rivendell, as many others have done before him, unknowing of his lineage until he grows of an age better suited to him understanding. Here he will be safe, trained well and educated in the ways of his people. Whence he comes of age, he shall be told of his ancestry, and given his due right. What say you?'

Gilraen nodded again, knowing the council of Elrond to be wise.

'Do as you wish, Elrond Peredhil, but of you I have one wish.'

'Speak, and I give you my word I shall try to my best to grant you it.'

'Take Aragorn as your own son, and love him as he cannot now be loved by his own father. In Imladris I shall stay, wish your consent. I love him more than Arda itself.'

'As you wish. And so from now Aragorn ceases to exist, for there only is Estel: Hope, for hope for the Dunedain and hope for the future of Men.'

*

Two years on...

*

'Ada!'

'No, Estel, you come back here right now!'

'Ada!'

'Quick! Catch him Elrohi-! Ai Elbereth, no, Estel!'

'Ada!'

'Glorfindel! Watch out for-!'

'Estel!'

'Oh Eru, my shirt.'

Bemused by the commotion coming from outside his library, Elrond stepped out. His jaw dropped at the sight that greeted him. A very muddy Estel, grinning happily, had crashed into Glorfindel, causing the elf to fall, sprawling, onto the floor, muddied, whilst two very disgruntled elves, namely Elladan and Elrohir, followed up closely, also muddy with filth. An eyebrow immediately raised itself. Glorfindel let his head fall to the floor in defeat, letting the young human clamber up his chest and bounce up and down. Elrond pretended that he did not notice his friend's (once) white tunic. Elrohir buried his head into a hand, groaning.

'Sorry, Ada, but we couldn't catch him fast enough. Estel has great speed on the ground, though his ability on the trees is less than perfect.'

There Elrohir grinned at Estel at the memory, of which Estel stuck his tongue out at. Elrond eyed him disapprovingly, but had to wipe it off his face in case he should smile instead. He would not bring upon himself the wrath of Glorfindel, wanting to fare better than the balrog did.

Grinning, Estel raised a fist, of which was clenched around a (battered) daffodil, of which Elrond had introduced to him a few days before during his lessons.

'Look, Ada! Isn't it pretty!'

Laughing, Elrond nodded.

'Yes, yes, Estel. But I think you should get up, or Glorfindel might do something horrible to you.'

'But Glorfy is fun to jump on!'

Glorfindel was still being trampled underneath Estel, groaning at the human child to get off his chest. Erestor, who walked out of the library also, wore a grin on his face, whistling as he walked off, acting the fool. Glorfindel growled at him as the chief advisor to Elrond tried to hide a snigger at the blond-mud hair of his friend.

'Don't you dare play stupid with me, Erestor!'

Estel, to Glorfindel's relief, stopped bouncing when he heard Erestor's name.

''Stor!'

Glorfindel got up and wore his own smug smirk on his face as Estel ran over and clung to Erestor's leg, muddying him too. Estel sat, still bedaubed in filth, as Elrond tried to get him to pronounce the names of all of his foster brothers and the family friends correctly. Pointing to Glorfindel, the said slowly and deliberately.

'Glor-fin-del. Say it after me, Estel.'

'Glorfyendell?'

The blond elf choked at the name, only serving to choke on the slush that Estel had helpfully slopped onto his head. Erestor grinned along with Elladan and Elrohir, laughing at the Eldar. Ignoring them, Elrond pointed to Elladan.

'El-la-dan. Try that, Estel.'

'El-dan?'

'El-ro-hir. Try Elrohir.'

'El'hir?'

'Ere-stor...?'

'E'stor!'

By the time the session was over, Elrond was shaking in mirth and raised his hand in welcome as Gilraen walked over, half amused and half appalled at her son's state. Ruffling the confused Estel's hair, he shook his head.

'Never mind, ninion, stick with your nicknames.'

Grinning, Estel babbled on.

'Glorfy! 'Ladan! 'Rohir! 'Stor!'

It was hard to believe the happy child was heir to a kingdom; he was so carefree and young. Elrond shook his head. Estel would have a future difficult to predict. For now, though, he would settle for watching him try, and fail, to braid Glorfindel's hair as Gilraen tried to drag him off to the bath. Then, the "Tree Memory" came back to him...