"By all means."
Estel - no, Aragorn - stirred slightly in his sleep. Voices came from below, sounding oddly like his brothers. And there was the strange sensation of something small hitting his side. Pebbles. But why would he be sleeping above his brothers, being hit by pebbles? It was probably still a dream.
THWAP.
A stone the size of his fist struck him in the shoulder, lightly enough that it didn't bruise but hard enough that he woke up, twisted around, and found himself falling off of his makeshift bed: a tree branch.
"Ai!" He tried to grab onto another branch as it passed, but by then it was too late - he hurtled through the air, startled a nearby bird (or several) into flight, and landed squarely in Elladan's arms with a decidedly un-kingly yelp. The dark-haired elf let out a grunt as he staggered back a step before balancing himself with his burden again; Elrohir, features lined with risible humor, bounded over, dropping a handful of egg-sized rocks into the dirt along the way.
"Troubled dreams, brother? Or did you take it upon yourself to take the dawn watch again? I've never known you to sleep so late of your own volition."
It was indeed late; the sun was already high overhead, casting filtered golden light between the filmy leaves above and illuminating motes of dust and pollen in its rays. Estel declined to answer Elrohir's teasing question, instead struggling in Elladan's grasp until the elf simply let him go and stepped back as the young man hit the ground flat on his back. He lurched to his feet, wincing at the strain that had developed in his side probably as a result of having slept - if his rest could be termed sleeping - on a branch only a foot wide.
"Well, brother?" Elrohir prompted, reaching up to dangle lightly from the branch in question.
"I already told you, I can be no brother of yours," Aragorn responded, studiously avoiding either elf's gaze and turning instead to brush his back off.
Elladan sighed. "Do not make us go over this again, n'estel. It's so tedious." He pointed at the patiently-hanging Elrohir. "Brother." Pointed at himself. "Brother." And a last point that went as far as to prod Estel in the chest, right beneath where his chin was firmly tucked. "Brother."
Aragorn glanced up quickly from the ground, gaze sullenly dark. "Elf," he contradicted, nodding toward Elladan. "Elf," toward Elrohir. "Human." He ended with a quick jerk of his chin toward his chest.
"Elrond, our father, was yet brother to Elros,Tar-Minyatur," Elrohir remarked mildly, still swinging idly from the branch.
"Your father, because he is peredhil," Aragorn snapped. "He is half-elven; you are not. I am not."
"Elros became the first of the Numenorean kings," Elladan pointed out, rather testily. "If you are who you claim, you share in the blood of both Earendil and Elwing, as we do."
"It doesn't change anything."
Elladan snorted. "And for once today, you are right. It changes nothing. You are still hopeless, you are still my little brother, and you still act as though you're four. Go and learn of your history before you shun it, and us, so." By the time Aragorn looked up again, an angry retort on his lips, the elf was gone, not a trace of his departure evident except for the exasperated glance Elrohir was sending into the woods.
Elrohir merely shrugged at Aragorn's questioning glance. "You hurt him," he said, dropping back to the ground lightly. "He was worried for you last night when you didn't return - one of the sentries reported a few bands of Orcs near the High Moors, and he feared that you might have left Imladris without a warning."
"Wouldn't want his prized human brother to run off on his watch and get killed, would he?" Aragorn said, voice bitter.
"Estel," and somehow Elrohir managed to put some sharp rebuke in the name without even raising his voice.
The human flushed, recognizing the reproval and regretting his caustic remark but forging on anyway. "My name is Aragorn. Not Estel."
"You are still our little brother, no matter what under the sun you call yourself," Elrohir said, annoyance breaking through his patience for a brief moment. Settling himself again, he continued. "He was worried for your safety, among other things. He always is. You upset him, so he left before he could get angry."
"He's always angry," Aragorn muttered, shifting uneasily on his feet.
Elrohir moved to sit at the base of the tree, not bothering to beckon the human to sit as well. He glanced over at Aragorn, expressionless. "He's never been angry with you, little brother. Believe me. If he were truly angry at you, you probably would not leave the room alive."
"So he's never been angry with you, I imagine?" Aragorn drawled sardonically.
"A few times. Never for long."
"Then he's upset at you more often?"
"A little more."
"Then why do I still upset him so?"
"Because he worries far more for you than me," Elrohir responded, looking up as Aragorn sat down in front of him. "Ever since our mother was attacked by Orcs, he has tried to protect what was his. But she left for the Havens, and then Arwen left for Lorien after that. He would not lose a brother, too. It upsets him to see you acting foolishly because he can't protect you from everything now."
"He's never done anything for me! 'Twas always you who would go with me."
"Are you blind? I fought with you, yes, taught you how to use knives, but do you think that a new pair simply sprouted from your sheaths every time your old ones dulled beyond repair? Glorfindel did not just suddenly decide one day that he needed a pupil to teach to read and write." Elrohir's dark eyes blazed. "Haldir of Lorien would not have given up a bow of Melpomaen's if it had not been for Elladan's suggestion, nor would he have come back last summer to take you journeying to Caras Galen without Elladan's request. Elladan has done more for you than anyone else in Imladris, most like. You have no right to say that he has done nothing for you."
Aragorn gaped. His features furrowed into a frown of sudden comprehension, and he subsided into a long quiet, gaze lowering from Elrohir's to the ground. "I have been a fool," he said in a low voice, a few minutes later.
"No, brother; not a fool. But stubborn, and heavy-hearted," Elrohir responded, softening. "He was overjoyed when Arwen returned from Lorien, but you took him out of that mood when she told us that you did not come back with her last night."
"I'm sorry," Aragorn murmured, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for, but it sounded appropriate. Elrohir, of course, picked up on the tone and stood.
"You're not. Not really. Think of something that you mean, and when you do, come back to the house. Arwen would wish to see you again."
"Wait!" Aragorn looked up, saw that Elrohir was still there. "Why did you never tell me of her?"
"You never asked, little brother," and the smallest of smiles broke across the elf's face. "'Twas perhaps the only question you did not." He turned and stepped into the trees again, quickly fading from view.
This time, Aragorn followed him back to the house.
-----------------------------------------
"You shall have neither wife, nor bind any woman to you in troth, until your time comes and you are found worthy of it."
Aragorn stared at Elrond. He had not even yet spoken a word since he entered the room, but his foster-father had somehow managed, with the same uncanny ability displayed through all of his childhood, to spell out everything in his heart in under two sentences. "Can it be that my mother has spoken of this?" he hazarded a guess - after all, the last words she had spoken to him were 'I do not think that you will have the good will of Elrond in this matter.'
"No, indeed." Elrond stopped his slow, deliberate pacing around the study, stood in front of his desk to look at Aragorn. "Your own eyes have betrayed you - but I do not speak of my daughter alone." He paused, and Aragorn inclined his head, waiting for him to go on. "She is Arwen the Fair, Evenstar of her people; she is of lineage greater than yours, and you are but as a yearling shoot beside a young birch of many summers to her. Even if her heart turned towards you, I should still be grieved because of the doom that is laid on us."
"What is that doom?" Aragorn asked guardedly, dreading the answer.
"That so long as I abide here, she shall live with the youth of the Eldar, and when I depart, she shall go with me, if she so chooses."
"Such is my fate. . ." Aragorn whispered, gaze turning downward. Elrond turned away, looking out to the mountains in the distance as the sun sank behind their peaks and silence settled over the room.
"We will speak no more of this until many years have passed," Elrond said after a few more moments, turning to Aragorn again. But the room was empty; Aragorn was gone.
---------------------------
Ithil shone still, constant in her tendencies; shattered beams of silver spilled into the courtyard, and the night air was cool and still. Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel rode silently across the Bruinen, weariness of mind taking its toll on their bodies in the slump of posture. Gilraen watched them enter the courtyard, hope fading within her as she turned away from the balcony. Elrond stood within the room, face in shadow but expression pained.
"Your sons have taught him too well if he can escape them with only two days' lead," she said in a low voice, meeting his gaze for a moment.
"All too willingly, on both their parts." He caught her arm before she could step around him. "Do not despair, Gilraen. We will find him, or he will find us." From behind them, Elrohir tapped on the doorway, expressionless. When Elrond turned toward him, Gilraen deftly extracted her arm from his grasp and strode away, gracing Elrohir only with a sad smile. "What news?" he asked his son.
"Glorfindel has gone to send messengers to Lothlorien and Caras Galen. We found tracks leading toward the east, but they faded. . . Two days is too long, ada. Even Glorfindel cannot distinguish tracks that old." Elrond nodded, and Elrohir went on, struggling to control the frustration in his voice. "Tracks to the east - we think he may head toward Caras Galen, at least for awhile. Elladan is.. not happy."
"He's gone to take over the dawn watch by the ford?"
Elrohir nodded. "Melpomaen will be glad enough to let him have the watch."
"Have you told Arwen?"
"Not yet. I will, perhaps in the morning. 'Tis too late right now to wake her, if she's asleep." Elrohir sighed. "I fear for Elladan, ada."
"I fear more for Aragorn when he comes back. Elladan has never appreciated notes, let alone notes to tell him that one of his brothers has left Imladris."
The younger elf's eyes darkened, and he straightened slightly with a sharp, "Do not make light of this, ada."
"My apologies, Elrohir. Truly." Elrond sighed, too, looking out to the courtyard again as if expecting to see his errant foster-son riding back in. "He will come back when it is time. I know this."
Miles away, stopped at the fringed borders of the Grey Mountains, Aragorn had set up a small camp for the night; watching as his fire burnt down to mere embers, he took one of his knives and set to the painstaking task of shearing off his elven locks up to his shoulders. When morning came, he was astride his mount again, a fleeting image of horse and rider disappearing into the early dew-ridden mists that fogged the mountainside.