Disclaimer: It is not mine, was not mine, and, most sadly, never will be mine.
A/N: Hm. Time for a quick history canon lesson, so that everyone is well equipped for this and the following chapters-to-be.
Third Age:
109: Elrond and Celebrian wed.
130: The Twins, Elladan and Elrohir,
are born.
141: Arwen is born.
2509: Celebrian is waylaid at the
Redhorn Pass on the way to Lorien.
2510: Celebrian departs across the
Sea.
2931: Aragorn is born.
2933: Aragorn is brought to Rivendell.
2948: Theoden is born.
2951: "Estel" is revealed as Aragorn,
and meets Arwen. Aragorn departs into the Wild.
2957: Aragorn goes to serve Thengel,
father of Theoden, under the alias of Thorongil.
3018-3019: War of the Ring, downfall
of Sauron.
3019: Aragorn marries Arwen.
September 29th 3019: Departure of
Elrond.
That is about the bulk of important years that one needs to know. In this chapter, it is the year 2943, when Aragorn is 12 and one decade has passed since his arrival. Onwards!
*
Estel sat in the armoury with Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel. He had taken up working with the blade two years back, and was now sufficiently, and surprisingly, proficient in the ways of both sword and dagger. Of course, in the face of the likes of Glorfindel, who had millennia upon millennia of experience compared to his two years, he still appeared quite silly. However, the talent was evident in him, and the twins and his tutor delighted in teaching their eager student. The four were about to depart for the sword and archery ranges after Glorfindel finished his almost endless stocktaking.
However, today was turning out to be rather dull. It was the peak of summer, and the valley felt akin to a chicken being slow roasted over a fire. Estel had his collar open, and was lethargically attempting, and failing, to efficiently sharpen his birthday gift, a short sword. Needless to say, the weather and incessant sounds of a slow summer afternoon was slowly sending him off the edges of awareness and into a blissful, blank frame of mind as he stared out of the window. Elladan and Elrohir, too, were mentally absent, eyes almost glazed over in elven sleep as they leaned against the counter and tried vainly to disguise yawns. Glorfindel, old, aged, ancient Glorfindel, was somehow managing to dutifully take inventory of the endless armoury.
It was only when Elrohir nearly impaled himself upon the blonde's stack of spare quills did the reborn balrog slayer stop his work and stare at the three very bored brothers. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at them.
'The day cannot be that mundane.'
Elladan did not even bother to try and correct his former tutor. Elrohir glared at Glorfindel through sleepy eyes.
'In my 2800 years of experience, I will never, ever figure out how Father, Erestor and you manage to work through this, this-' Elrohir made a hopeless hand action at the pile of parchment on the blonde's table, 'Nonsense.'
Glorfindel sent the younger twin a mock glare.
'This "nonsense" is what keeps the valley running.'
Lacking the patience of his older foster brothers, Estel moaned as he tried not to fall into slumber.
'I cannot see for the life of me why Imladris cannot keep running without knowing how many arrows we have in inventory.'
Glorfindel marked off another bunch of 20.
'Come time of war, these inventories will be useful.'
Elladan piped up.
'Come time of war, these arrows will be useful.'
Estel snorted, twirling a broken quill between his fingers. Looking up, he leaned over the table to stare at the reports.
'Are you done yet? I'm going to die before we get to the range, if you keep going.'
Glorfindel pointedly ignored his young charge. Estel buried his face in his hands and turned back to his brothers. Elrohir was leaning against the wall, his bow, unstrung, next to him. Elladan was experimentally testing the balance of a new sword, swinging it back and forth with the air of someone who knew what he was doing. Estel reverently stroked the intricate design of the younger twin's bow. The tengwar equivalent of Elrohir's name was etched onto the dark wood, standing out beautifully next to other various engravings. Gushing softly, Estel looked up at his brother.
'What is it like?'
Elrohir, jolted awake, looked down.
'What?'
Estel traced the cravings with a finger and shrugged.
'What is it like to be out there? In the Wild? Actually putting yourselves against orcs. Working against the forces of evil.'
Elrohir shot a look at his older brother. Elladan stopped tossing the weapon about and walked over. The twins were silent for a while. Elrohir took his own sword in hand and looked at it.
'It... is difficult to describe, Estel. It's dangerous in many ways.'
Estel waved a dismissive hand in the air.
'I know that it is dangerous. It is not as if Ada does not preach that fact to me every breathing moment I go near anything sharp. But what is it really like? What does it feel like, beyond the danger?'
The child is far too perceptive. Elrohir shuffled about uneasily.
'There... is a sort of dread thrill, I suppose. Like fire, yet also like ice. It's difficult, different for us, Estel.'
The child nodded sadly.
'Your naneth?'
Elladan swallowed and looked away. Estel sighed.
'I know.'
Two simple words, but there was deep meaning behind them. Gilraen might still be alive, but Estel never knew the real name, nor identity of his biological father. Neither did he know the real reason why. Elladan turned and gave Estel a soft, sorrowful smile.
'Dangerous in two ways, Estel. Dangerous for the physical risks that we undertake, but also dangerous for the addiction. The bloodlust, the need to end life. Something we all are too conscious of, straying so far from home, and so often. The fear of never seeing those you love again, and the same fear that if you don't work against evil, that those you love might be taken away from you.'
Elrohir sighed.
'It is not a fate that we would wish upon anybody.'
Estel nodded quietly.
'But it has been so long for you.'
The twins both shrugged.
'Some wounds take longer to heal than others,' Elladan said, 'and some do not heal at all.'
Their younger brother perched on a stool, silent for a moment.
'But Celebrian lives still, healed, in the West.'
The Twins inclined their heads; it was true. Their mother waited for them across the Sea. Estel went on.
'You will see her again, eventually. But it's different for humans. It's more difficult.'
He fell oddly silent. No one knew what happened to Man, once they passed beyond the Circles of the World. That was Illuvatar's own to answer. Glorfindel stopped writing and looked at him.
'Do not worry so much about death and war now, Estel. It is far for you yet. And do not believe that death for the edain is a curse. It is true that no one knows, but from personal experience, it cannot be very much worse than rebirth for elves. It is called the Gift of Illuvatar for a reason.'
Estel grinned slightly, cheering up. His moods were never overly sullen, as if there was a light about him that chased dark thoughts away, a resilience born of hope. Estel.
'I suppose. So are you done now, Glor?'
The elf stood, stretching, and reached for the long elven blade that lay on the table.
'Yes, yes, let us go. I will enjoy wiping the floor with Elladan after all this paper.'
Dark mood instantly dispelled, Elladan snorted and snatched up his own weapon, springing to life and bounding out of the door in a manner most unfit for a 2800 year old son of Elrond, with Elrohir and Estel following at a more sedate pace. And for a long while after, the Twins were happier, more youthful, as if a part of their long burden of hunting and killing had been lifted from their backs. So in more quiet ways, Estel worked his subtle magic on the inhabitants of Imladris.
And Glorfindel did, eventually, beat Elladan around the training grounds.