Endril McMerlyn: *grins widely* Wow. I'm so pleased, you have no idea. I hope the rest of the chapters meet with such continued approval. Lol. Oh, I'm in a formal stage. Actually, I mean I hope you love the rest of the chapter, too!
Bill the Pony: Second is good. I'm so glad you decided to stick around, return from the horizon. . . . And Aragorn's happy, too. He would hate to suffer for no reason, you know. *g*
Nell-Marie: *smile widens impossibly* Oh good. Your reviews are always so informative. I love them. And there will be a third, it just might be the new year before I finish it. Mighty stubborn, that thing is, you have no idea. Never mind that it's a million times more complicated than the two I've written before. *rubs face tiredly before grinning* I need to go to bed, me thinks.
Grumpy: I hate pop-ups too. Annoying suckers.
And I'm so glad to hear from you all again. Lol. You followed. *smiles dreamily* And, no, before you ask, I'm not drunk. Honestly. It's merely late, after ten you know, and I'm deliriously happy. So, without further ado, and so I may go to bed and dream of happy things--such as Legolas waiting by a pool to spend time with me all alone, or Aragorn suddenly appearing to give me a back rub--I present the next chapter. It's a break chapter too early to need a break. Ai, but it's yours to enjoy. *g* I think the spelling and such is right. I actually checked the spelling this time. . . .
Chapter 2
Escape the Shadows
Three people sat at the table for breakfast, plates of food sitting mostly untouched before them. Worry had kept them from sleeping well and chased them from their beds with the coming of first light.
Lord Elrond sat at the head of the table as was his custom, occasionally taking small bites from the long cool dish before him. Elladan and Elrohir had stopped even pretending to eat long ago, their dark eyes glued to the table yet looking at nothing. Their father watched them with concerned eyes, knowing it was their adopted brother who worried them.
Of course, if he was honest with himself, he knew it was Aragorn who worried him, as well. It did not take an elf's keen eyes to detect the steady decline in the young human. He was pulling away, closing in upon himself. It hurt to be rejected, but what troubled the elf lord more than that was why.
No one had been able to offer an explanation, and the one person who could answer all of their questions they dared not ask. The guarded expression in his eyes, warning against prying, kept them from approaching the troubled young man, kept them from helping him.
Neither his family nor his friends could think of a way to get through to him, to break through the walls he had erected to protect himself from . . . what? The uncertainty was beginning to drive the elf mad. Patience he had learned in his many millennia of life, yet nothing worked against patience like love for someone who was suffering, and it was always hardest to stand impartial when it came to hurting family.
Not for the first time, Elrond wondered if Legolas would not have better luck reaching the human. Aragorn was closer to the elven prince than any of the others. Mayhap the young man would speak of his troubles to one he trusted implicitly.
It was his twin sons, however, who currently concerned him. Elladan and Elrohir looked almost as sleep deprived as their brother. Dark circles surrounded their eyes. Their clothing--unchanged from yesterday--was rumpled and disheveled, giving the impression that the two had rolled down a mountain. Neither had eaten very well the last couple of days, either.
He had watched in silence, but he could no longer let this continue. "Concern for your brother is not reason enough to slack in taking care of yourself," he told the identical elves before him.
Both glanced at him. "But, Father," Elrohir complained. "I cannot stand watching him . . . disintegrate before our very eyes. He's wasting away and we can do nothing."
Elladan simply returned to playing with his food, listlessly pushing around the contents. It was to a point now where Elrond could no longer tell what it had been when it was placed before his son.
"Wasting away with him will not solve that," he countered calmly. "If you are to help him, you cannot join him."
"He won't talk to us," Elladan spoke up, his voice low. "I thought he trusted us, knew he could talk to us if anything is wrong. Why won't he talk to us, let us help?"
Matching blue eyes met, and Elrond desperately wished he had an answer for his son that would ease the other's pain. Thousands of years old, his sons might be, but time has never been known to stop pain when a loved one was hurting. Only the easing of the pain could do that.
"I don't know, my son. Aragorn's thoughts have ever been his own, even more so as he has grown older. And we do not yet know all we need to about that drug he was given. That may yet have something to do with it." He glanced down at his own barely touched plate, wishing all his wisdom could provide insight into why his youngest shunned their help. He, too, thought the issues of trust had long been put to rest. "Maybe something today will change and he will allow us to assist him."
Quiet nods were all he received and he frowned. Silence from one of his sons was one thing, this despondency in all three was unbearable. "Nevertheless, I expect the both of you to act normal. He seems happier when the three of you jest together. Perhaps it helps him in some way just having you near."
Elrohir looked up, his expression thoughtful. Elladan half-turned away, his gaze turning to the hallway leading into the room from the stairs. The elf lord frowned, then heard what had caught his eldest's attention: footsteps. Human footsteps, to be precise, moving quickly with little regard to silence, unusual for the young man.
He focused on the being that stepped into view as soon as he passed the threshold of the door. He nearly winced at what he saw. Bloodshot silver eyes stared back at him, a nearly wild light in their eyes. The young man's clothes hung oddly on him, testament to his lost weight. Ashy skin evidenced his poor health. He looked terrible, and yet had a nervous energy about him that had been lacking of late, an excitement that resisted containment in the corporeal form it inhabited.
It was a regression, of sorts, for Aragorn had not been so jittery since he was a teenager, yet it was a welcome change from the melancholy youth who had walked Rivendell's halls this past week. Elrond wondered what had wrought the change, and noted a similar question in his sons' eyes.
The elf smiled. "Good morning, Estel. Would you care for some breakfast?"
The young man bit his lip as he surveyed what they were eating, his gaze pausing on Elladan's uneaten meal and a small frown creased his brow, then he looked back up. "I think I could eat," he announced.
A servant that had been waiting nearby hurried out, anxious to get back with the food lest the young human change his mind. It was not just Elrond and his sons that worried, but the entire populace of Imladris, whether they were particularly fond of the human or not.
Aragorn settled down next to Elladan, his right elbow settling on the table and his head resting in his hand. Intent eyes regarded the mess that had once been food. Elladan was looking at the young man as if he had suddenly lost his mind. Elrohir looked as if he was studying for a test. Had the situation not been so serious, Elrond might have laughed.
Finally, the ranger looked up. "Trying your hand at food-art again, my brother?" Elladan simply stared at him. Aragorn's lips twitched. "No?" His hand reached forward to tilt the plate in his direction for a better look. "What's it supposed to be?"
The elder twin blinked twice, finally getting around the fact that Estel had actually made a joke, after a week of a somber young man, that was startling. "I was going for an orc," he said, leaning back.
"An orc?" Aragorn questioned, his lip curling in disgust. "Well, maybe." He put the plate back down and glanced at Elrohir. He met the intent gaze, then glanced at Elrond. "Was there a notice, Father, that said I was to be inspected for a test later?"
The other twin blushed and looked away, missing Aragorn's smirk, though he recovered quickly. "It's simply astonishing," he said. "How horrible you can look and yet seem in such good spirits. Did you meet up with Elladan's orc before you came downstairs?"
Aragorn chuckled slightly, the sound weary, leaning back as a plate was placed before him. He took a bite, then looked up at his adopted father, seriousness replacing the playful countenance in the blink of an eye. "Actually, I have a request."
Elrond nodded for him to continue.
"I would like to visit Legolas in Mirkwood."
Elrohir frowned. "Are you sure you're well enough?"
"Traveling from here to there is dangerous, you know," Elladan added.
Aragorn met the elf lord's eyes, ignoring his brothers. "Might I inquire what brought this on, my son?" he asked calmly.
The young ranger glanced down and seemed to both gather and brace himself. He looked back up. "It's been a long time since I've heard from Legolas, and even longer since I've seen him. I simply want to make sure he is well." Aragorn shrugged, and looked back down at his plate to continue eating.
The twins glanced back at him, and he knew they were dying to demand Aragorn stay in Rivendell where he was safe. Really, that was his impulse, as well, but could he truly say the young man was safe in Imladris? No, he could not. The wasting figure before him was proof enough of that. And, difficult as it was to admit, Elrond had no idea what to do to reach the young man. He was distant, and nothing any of them had done had been able to reach him. Again, Elrond thought that perhaps Legolas would succeed where they had failed.
Indeed, it seemed even the thought of seeing Legolas again had lifted the young one's spirits, and given him back something of an appetite. Plus, he recognized that look; short of tying Aragorn up and locking him away, there would be no way of keeping the human away from his friend. The elf lord was sure any such action would only harm the human more than letting him go.
Thus it was that Elrond firmly told every parental instinct within him shouting that if he let his son go he might never see him again to shut up, and spoke the words Aragorn obviously desperately wanted to hear. "Of course you may go," he said, and the brilliant smile the Dúnadan turned on him was proof enough that he had chosen correctly. Then, he continued, "With one stipulation."
The smile was replaced with wary regard. "What?"
"I would like your brothers to go with you." He noticed that seemed to calm their objections even as he kept his gaze focused on his youngest.
Slowly, the young man nodded, then he smiled. "I think I can live with that," he declared, the smile he gifted Elrohir with earning him a return smile. Then he turned back to Elrond. "When can we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning, at dawn if you wish. There are a few things that need to be taken care of before you go, and for my own peace of mind, I request you eat lunch and dinner as well. Then, unless sudden illness befalls any of you, I would bid you off."
Another frown marred the ranger's brow, but eventually he nodded. "Tomorrow morning," he agreed. Looking thoughtful, he returned to his breakfast, oblivious to the strange looks he received from his family.
Mentally, Elrond shrugged. Sometimes it was more than useless trying to figure out a man's mind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Aragorn walked outside the Last Homely House, anxious to find some peace. His father and his brothers were taking care of readying the supplies and had forbid him to participate, bidding him rest. It was frustrating to be told to do the one thing he dared not.
It was for that reason that he once again found himself staring over the bridge into the rushing water. With a sad smile he thought back to the last time he had stood here and stared into the turbulent depths. It was amazing to him how much was still the same, and how much had changed. Indeed, it was only the specifics that had changed, and not the general issues at all.
He sighed and leaned heavily against the railing, bracing his forearms against the stone railing while his hands dangled over the edge, clasped lightly. But the water, with its rushing torrential flow, did nothing to soothe his troubled thoughts, and he turned his attention up, seeking the trees whose leaves were gradually changing colors. Winter, though, was still a few months off.
His thoughts drifted off to the first winter he remembered in Rivendell. It had snowed that year, and he had been captivated by the white stuff that fell from the sky. He had wanted to touch it, and his brother's had shared his excitement despite their great years, probably because they had enjoyed watching his reactions.
The poor elves; for all their years of experience and wisdom, they had no idea what to do with a human child in the snow. Getting him dressed had been an adventure in itself, and Aragorn knew he had given the two elves fits, removing the clothes and running off before they could react.
A fond smile crossed the ranger's face as he remembered how exasperated they had been with him. After nearly an hour of chasing Aragorn around, the twins had finally begged Celboril's help and managed the task of dressing the precocious youth.
None of them had been quite sure how many layers were needed to keep a human child warm and had put on many of them to be on the safe side. He had been so completely swathed in clothes that his arms stuck straight out at his sides and he could not walk, a round ball of clothing with Edain flesh somewhere inside.
Elrond had taken one look at him when the twins had carried him in for inspection and burst out laughing. Still laughing, the lord of Imladris had taken Aragorn back the boy's room and removed a couple layers while switching out a couple more which would prove warmer and allow the child some movement.
The twins had smiled sheepishly when he had run out, jumping up and down and begging to be taken outside to see the snow. He remembered the patience they had shown him, playing with him through the morning and past lunch. It was the first time he remembered that he truly felt at home, like he was welcome.
When they had finally dragged themselves back in, and Aragorn had been stripped of his many outer layers, the three had collapsed in the Great Hall, fires raging around them. He had woken up cradled in Elladan's arms, the elf's hand gently stroking through his hair, with Elrohir sitting beside them, a fond smile pulling at his lips.
Aragorn bit back the tears that gathered in his eyes, blinking rapidly to get rid of the fluid. He wished those simple, happy times were his again, that he could simply give himself up to his brothers' protective arms with no concern, offer up all worries to a loving embrace and have all cares brushed away with caring words and warm hugs. He chuckled mirthlessly at his own impossible wishes.
No, things could never go back to the way they had been then. He was grown now, a man, and he must take care of his own problems. No one else could take care of them now. He had a heritage to live up to, things to prove--to others and to himself--or to die trying, yet it was always simpler to think than to accomplish, and just now he would rather face a horde of orcs than give in to sleep. There was nothing comforting about that all encompassing darkness.
The ranger started walking again, glad no one else was around. In less than a day, he would be on his way to Mirkwood, and maybe by this time a week from now, his nightmares would be gone and he could sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Elladan moved quickly through his house, gathering supplies. He had already gathered his own pack and was now going to pack Aragorn's.
The elf entered the room and immediately sought the small bag, grabbing two changes of clothes, the ranger's whet stone, and a couple other amenities he thought it would be good to take. The bedroll was attached quickly and he looked around to see if he was missing anything.
Keen eyes lighted on the small token Legolas had left the last time he had stopped by Rivendell when Aragorn was not here. The craftsmanship was truly beautiful and he remembered the ranger's words when he had placed it in his bag before leaving two weeks ago. For some reason . . . I feel I should take it.
What he could only term a similar feeling, Elladan walked forward and picked up the small piece. It was a miracle it had not been broken the first time, but maybe, just maybe, that luck would still hold. The elf carefully tucked the small object away, wrapping it carefully in the ranger's clothes.
He was about to leave, when he caught the slight smell of smoke and saw light coming from the washroom. Curious, he left the pack on the bed and walked cautiously towards the partially opened door.
Carefully, he pulled the door the rest of the way open and found it empty. He frowned at the still burning candles and torches, then glanced back behind him. Aragorn had not been in here for at least an hour. The ranger knew better than to leave the candles burning when the room was not being used.
Somewhat annoyed, he stepped in quickly to put them out, and stopped halfway across the floor, surprised. He stepped back and looked down, for the first time noting the water that still pooled on the floor. Keen eyes followed it up the steps and into the tub, which was still full. Water was sloshed over the side, even going so far as to reach one of the candles and extinguish its flame; the scene reminded Elladan of Aragorn's youth, when the child had insisted on more water ending on the floor than remaining in the basin.
That, however, did not explain the scene before him. It had been many years since the human had been so careless while taking a bath, nor so light-hearted, and the elf knew neither could explain what had happened last night.
Forgetting past experience with Estel that could explain it, Elladan had to admit it looked like someone had been taking a bath and been surprised in the tub with a struggle ensuing. But he was sure no one but Aragorn had been in here last night. The young man would have mentioned if he had been attacked while in the House of Elrond, if for no other reason than because it was a security issue, and he had mentioned no such thing.
The elf bit his lower lip, concern and respect for his youngest brother's privacy warring within him. He shook his head; at any other time he might have risked upsetting his brother by delving into his private affairs, but with the other's moods so unpredictable, he dared not alienate him.
Walking more carefully, he crossed the floor and pulled the plug from the tub to allow the now cold water to escape, then set about putting out the candles that still burned. He also put out the torches; Estel would not be using them again for a while.
He walked back to the door, pausing once to look back, before leaving the room. Whatever was bothering the human, Aragorn would have to open up to someone before they could help him. He only hoped the young one opened up before something irreversible happened. To lose the Dúnadan now, after so short a time, was simply too unbearable to contemplate.
Elladan pulled the door closed behind him and left.
With what he had entered for in his hands, he left the human's room and continued down the hall for his twin's room, his pace just as quick but his thoughts far away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Slowly and methodically, with a grace born of many millennia of practice, Elrond readied the herbs and bandages he was sending with his sons on their trip over the mountain.
There had been far too many incidents in the last couple of years when traveling between Rivendell and King Thranduil's realm in Mirkwood for him to even contemplate sending the young ones off without adequate supplies. Of course, knowing Aragorn's penchant for getting into trouble, the elven lord was not entirely sure the amount of supplies he could place in a small bag would ever be enough to be considered adequate, but he would do his best to make sure they did not arrive on the trail and meet trouble only to find their supplies lacking.
He had a feeling, though, that any problems they would encounter on the trip to Mirkwood would not be so easy to treat as a cut or remediable with any of the potions he was currently dividing into three packs. Whatever was ailing Aragorn could only be solved in the young man's mind.
Elrond had never thought there would be a time when he would have preferred some physical wound to befall the young one, something he could treat no matter how horrible. Just about anything would have been better in the elf's mind. This malady he could not touch reminded him far too much of the loss of his wife, Celebrían.
Then, too, the poison had been cured, but the taint of the poison could not be removed, and his lovely wife had deemed she could no longer live in Middle-earth, crossing the sea and leaving him and his sons behind. That Aragorn could not cross the sea when he grew tired of living offered no comfort to the elf lord, for he knew that when humans grew tired of living, they tended to die, and that was worse for he knew he would see his wife again, but if Aragorn died he would never see his beloved adopted son ever again.
Focusing intently on the motions of his hands, Rivendell's lord tried his best to ignore the pain that lanced through his heart at that thought. No, he could not bear to lose another loved one, could not bear to watch another fade while he was forced to stand idly by unable to help.
A tear escaped, marking his cheek with a silvery trail as it flowed down his face. Elrond caught it before it could fall to the floor and wiped it away, his motions coming to a halt as he fought the very real fear and heartache that rushed through him.
It was happening again, what he swore he would never let happen again, and he was powerless to stop it. No magic within his grasp could help his youngest son, and Aragorn would not allow them close enough to find out what was wrong.
"Ada?"
He whirled quickly, surprised, for he had heard no one approach. "Elrohir." Then he quickly pushed the pain behind a mask of calm. The last thing he wanted was to give his sons another reason for concern. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.
The younger twin regarded him silently for a long moment, seemingly debating whether or not to ask something that was on his mind.
"You can talk to me about anything, Elrohir," he prompted. "I am always here to listen."
An easy smile was his answer. "Yes, Father, I know. It's just--" Elrohir moved forward a few steps before cutting off his own sentence and pausing in his approach. The young elf glanced down, anguish written in his eyes. Elrond moved to step forward, answering his father's instincts to comfort his son, when Elrohir again looked up, pinning the elf lord to his spot. "Is Aragorn leaving us like mother did?"
Now he did continue forward, giving into the impulse to hug his younger child, both giving and receiving comfort from the tight embrace. "No, ion nin, no. This will be different," he assured, speaking as much to himself as the body crushed against him. "Everything will work out, you'll see." He laughed lightly. "Legolas will help."
Elrohir chuckled, too. "He seems to do that a lot," the younger elf commented quietly.
"Yes," Elrond mused, his mind thinking back over the many various adventures the two youths had had over the course of the years, the many times they had drug each other back to Rivendell with various injuries for treatment, half-dead. Yet always, one was there for the other and the elf lord prayed it would be the same this time, that Legolas could somehow get through to Aragorn where they had failed.
Ah, Illúvitar, bring him back to us, he thought. Then he smiled down at the elf in his arms as he pulled back. "Aragorn will be fine, Elrohir. He will. Now, go pack, and then the three of you can make quickly for Mirkwood and spend as little time as possible traveling through the High Pass so as to try my nerves as little as possible."
The young elf pulled back, a wide smile adorning his face, his troubles momentarily forgotten. "Yes, Ada."
Elrond watched his son leave quietly before turning back to his work. He would take care of the young one's body and pray his best friend could heal his soul.