Alone at last,
Together in a photograph.
Our eyes are always open devoted to perfection..
Through silence.
What am I supposed to do?
Should I sit and wait for you?
Listen to me screaming more..
Fold the corners.
Break the silence.
-Finch
Aragorn woke suddenly at the sound of a knock on the door of his room. He was skilled as a ranger, able to fall asleep quickly in nearly any circumstances and awake just as quickly at the slightest sound that could mean danger. He sat up on his bed, on top of the covers and still in his robes.
"Come in," he called. A maiden with the black hair of the noldor poked her head in the door.
"Your presence is requested at dinner, sir."
"Ah," he said. "Thank you." The elven servant nodded and left.
Aragorn sighed and ran a hand through his hair, falling back onto his bed, not sure if he really wanted to attend dinner tonight. His stomach growled as if in protest, but he ignored it, continuing to stare at the ceiling. Could he truly sit calmly, eating his meal and making conversation with the lords of Imladris as if nothing was wrong? Could he bear to feel Elrond's cold glare upon him and hold himself together? It mattered not, he admitted with a sigh, rising from the bed. He had been invited; he had to attend, and he would simply have to control his emotions as best he could.
Building up a protecting façade was an art he had mastered; this would be just like all the other times he had needed to keep his true self hidden, he decided. He had danced around Denethor's interrogations and discerning eyes; he had blended into the cultures of Gondor, Rohan, and Harad. He had befriended his soldiers without them ever truly knowing who he was; he kept curious Breelanders away merely by looking at them. This would be no different. He would be Aragorn the ranger, friend of Elladan and Elrohir, a dunadan of the north like any other--nothing more.
His heart sunk at this thought. These elves were more than strangers from distant countries; they were--had been--his family. Yet he was determined to make it through this meal and keep his dignity. If Elrond could not be his father, he would not be his enemy. He locked his jaws down in a polite smile and strolled into the dining hall, taking his seat between Elladan and another Rivendell elf named Herendil who greeted him pleasantly, remarking on how he had grown since he had last seen him.
Dinner went on as it always had, most of the company unaware of the tension hanging in the air at the far end of the long table. Aragorn was very hungry and happily concentrated solely on his food, glad for an excuse to not have to look up at his father and risk eye contact.
Lord Elrond sat at the head, holding a conversation with Glorfindel who sat at his side. He wanted to speak with his son, but this was not the time nor the place. He would have to seek him out afterwards. Still, he wanted to let the young man know that he was forgiven and welcome. He waited for the right pause then struck up a new topic, directing a question at Aragorn.
"How was your journey here, Aragorn?"
Aragorn looked up from his food, surprise registering on his face briefly before he smiled and answered politely, "Quite swift and smooth, my lord," then reached for his wine.
"Have you been to the Dunedain yet, Estel?" asked Elrohir, who sat across from him.
Aragorn swallowed and put down his glass. It seemed he would be unable to avoid conversation any longer. "Nay, I have not been there as of yet, but I plan to meet with Halbarad within the week, and hopefully I will have a chance to visit my mother soon."
"Ah, that is well," Elrohir replied. "I know she has missed you dearly."
"How fares she?"
"She is well; worry not," the young elf answered.
Aragorn nodded and took a bite of bread. His section of the table fell into silence once again. He felt he should say something else, but he felt drained. Truly, he just wanted to be alone for the moment. And the mentioning of his mother brought about new disruptive feelings.
He did miss her very much. He was sorry that he saw her so rarely. She must be growing older, he realized. Soon she would need to be taken care of. Why had he not been thinking of her? Why hadn't he gone to her instead of here? She was truly his flesh and blood. She had focused her entire life on him; she would always be there. His visits with her were rare and brief, for, though she missed him terribly when he was away and feared for her only child, she would not keep him from his destiny. Yet, though she pushed him to succeed and never give up, she was always there when he felt he could not go on; and he knew she would love him as her son no matter what happened.
He had just made up his mind to, after two days of rest at Imladris, make for the Dunedain village--where his mother dwelled, and as well as his people, soldiers, cousins, and friends--when he was suddenly jarred from his thoughts. Everyone was rising from the table and dispersing in groups, and the Lord of Rivendell was approaching him, looking solemn and determined. He resisted the urge to bite his lip, or clutch his hands together, or walk away, and merely stared back at the elf's cold, grey eyes.
"Estel," he murmured seriously. "I must speak with you. Please accompany me to the garden."
Aragorn hesitated. "Have you not already said all that needs to be said, my lord?"
"Nay, I am not near finished on this matter. Besides, we did not come to any clear conclusion."
"I believe, sir, there was... somewhat... of a conclusion gained from that," Aragorn answered, politeness forced into his voice. "At least, for me."
"Ada!" said Elladan, appearing at his father's side. Elrond raised an eyebrow at his son and waited for an explanation.
"I... I have to talk to you."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"It cannot wait?" Elrond wanted very much to heal this breach as soon as possible, and before it was too late.
Elladan shook his head. He had overheard Elrond's words to his brother, and wanted to stop this next verbal assault before any more damage was done. He was sure his father would change his mind once he calmed down and listened to reason.
Elrond sighed and reluctantly laid a hand on Estel's shoulder. "I will speak with you later then." Aragorn nodded almost imperceptibly and the two elves walked away together.
Elladan walked quickly away from the dining hall and did not stop for a few minutes, leading his father to a secluded room and stopping at a window, where he stood watching the stars that slowly appeared.
"What is so urgent that you had to interrupt me and lead me here?" asked Elrond impatiently.
"I couldn't let you talk to Estel again," Elladan said dully, still gazing out the window. "Not before I had had a chance to speak with you first."
"What do you mean?" asked Lord Elrond, his brow furrowing in confusion and mild annoyance.
"You didn't see him, did you? Not really. You didn't really look at him. If you had you could never have said such things." Elrond's frown deepened but he waited for his son to finish. "I saw him, father. I found him not long after his meeting with you. He tried to pretend nothing was wrong, but I know him too well. He was distraught. At the slightest inquiry and use of gentle words, he broke down despite himself, and wept on my shoulder."
Elrond felt his chest tighten and looked away, but Elladan didn't seem to notice and went on, speaking quietly. "I tried to tell him that no one blamed him for Arwen's choice. He loves her more than life; anyone can see that. But he didn't believe me. He seemed to feel that you felt it was entirely his fault--and he believed you were right. When I told him he was wrong, that you would never think that, he quickly informed me that you did, in fact feel that way." Elladan shook his head, finally turning his head to look at his father. "He said... that you told him he was not a part of our family."
Elrond's face was expressionless. "Is it true, Ada?"
"I said that, yes," the elf-lord answered with a sigh.
Elladan's shouldered dropped slightly and he opened his mouth but no words came. He looked intently at his father for a moment, his eyes hurt, confused, disbelieving, then turned away. He knew it was not his place to tell his father that he was wrong, but he could not help himself as the words trailed out.
"He looked so forlorn, so forsaken, so... empty. He talked as if he had seen your rejection coming years and years ago... as if he has never felt accepted in our house. He speaks of himself deprecatingly, going on about the failings of mortals, and how he can never be enough. He said that you... that we have made him feel like nothing but a pet... a pet that has now grown up, and no longer has any use, and is unwanted."
Elladan turned away from the night sky and risked a glance at his father. To his relief, the ancient elf looked neither angry nor doubtful nor apathetic. Rather, he looked grieved and ashamed. He stood unmoving, his eyes shut tightly.
"Ada?"
Elrond let out a breath sharply, and slowly opened his eyes, which were soft and shining with moisture. "Yes, my son?"
Elladan looked at his father with some pity now. He did not enjoy making his beloved adar feel guilty, but he had felt it necessary. "What will you do now?" he asked quietly.
The older elf breathed deeply and put an arm around his son. "What I had been planning to do already, Elladan." For a brief moment, Elladan looked shocked and almost angry, but then it quickly was replaced with realization and regret.
"Oh. Oh, Ada... I didn't realize that's what you were-... I didn't mean to-... I'm sorry."
"Nay, nay," said Elrond soothingly. "It had to be said, Elladan, you were right. Though I had realized my mistake, I did not entirely grasp the brevity of it. Nor did I realize that this wound is much older and deeper than I had thought. It is not the pain from one bitter argument. It is the pain from the realization of one's deepest fear, building up over years. I did not realize I had hurt him so. I never meant to..." He trailed off, his eyes cast downward.
Elladan placed a comforting hand on his father's arm. "I know you never intended any harm. I know you were not aware of the great pain you caused him. It is he who does not know."
Elrond nodded and left the room to seek out his youngest son.