CHAPTER 2
They had just crossed the Ford of Bruinen that marked the entrance to the hidden Elven haven of Imladris – or Rivendell as it was called in the common tongue – when the twins encountered a group of Elven hunters in whose lead rode Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower and close friend of Lord Elrond.
"Mae govannen! Welcome back, Sons of Elrond!" The Eldar rode towards them, his golden hair gleaming in the pale sunlight like spun gold as it fell around his shoulders.
"I had thought your time with the Dúnedain would last a little longer than just one season."
"So did we," Elladan answered wearily. "Mae govannen, Glorfindel."
An elegant eyebrow winged upward as Glorfindel caught sight of the child the elder twin was holding and an inquisitive blue gaze came to rest upon the Elf he had known since the day of his birth.
Elladan dismounted, stretching his legs while still carrying the sleeping child.
"What happened, Elladan?" Glorfindel looked from one twin to the other, but Elrohir looked away to avoid the Lord's gaze, leaving all explanations to his brother.
Sighing, Elladan shifted the child's weight, which was not easy since the little one was once again using his hair as a pacifier.
"Arathorn was hunting a band of Orcs that wreaked havoc in the Breelands. The Rangers had tracked them but at sunrise we lost sight of the foul beasts and made camp ourselves. We had just bedded down when they attacked. In broad daylight." He shook his head at the memories, sighing softly when he felt Elrohir's hand squeezing his shoulder gently.
"They cut down all they could reach – men, women and even a few boys not older than a child." Sad grey eyes met piercing blue ones who had already seen a great deal of war and pain themselves.
"Arathorn and Gilraen were slain, as were so many others. Few survived. They will now likely join other groups of Rangers and proceed as they ever have. This one here," Elladan smiled down at the child in his arms, "he is the son of Arathorn."
Glorfindel's blue eyes widened. "Then it is wise that you brought him here. The enemy will probably hunt for him, for Sauron knows that the Heir of Isildur is the only one that could cause his ultimate downfall." The blonde's eyes narrowed. "I pray to Ilúvatar that I will yet live to see that day."
Elladan nodded grimly. He had known Glorfindel all of his life, the Noldorin Lord was like a second father or an uncle to him and it had pained him to learn of the noble man's past.
Glorfindel, Elf of Gondolin, who had been slain by a Balrog during the fall of the White City only to be reborn – or sent back by the Valar – into another life filled with perils and heartache, with wars and losses, had finally found a little peace in the hidden valley Elladan's father and grandfather had founded. Peace and a family that was not his by blood but loved him just the same.
He had been there when Celebrían, the twins' mother, had been attacked and tortured by Orcs and had left for the Undying Lands shortly thereafter. He had stood by Elrond's side all the while, giving strength and solace as he had done many times before.
They had been walking while they talked and had so reached the courtyard of Lord Elrond's house.
Behind them Elrohir heaved a sigh of relief. It was so good to be home again.
The other Elves who had been part of Glorfindel's hunting party had fallen back a little, giving the Lords of Imladris room to talk among themselves.
Aragorn had finally awoken and stared at his surroundings curiously, his gaze lighting instantly on the fair haired Elf next to Elladan.
Reaching out with swiftness that would have done an Elfling proud his little fist grabbed a handful of the golden tresses and yanked hard, no doubt testing the strength of the lighter hair as he had often tested that of the twins' darker ones.
Glorfindel howled in pain and surprise, fearing that a strand might have been ripped from his scalp.
Turning a glare at the child he was surprised to find the very effigy of innocence staring back at him, a tiny fist that still held firmly to it's new plaything half in it's mouth.
"Glorfindel?!" Elrond's alarmed voice sounded from behind them as the Lord of Imladris swiftly made his way towards his best friend.
When Elrond reached his friend's side a relieved grin eased the frown from his face.
Untangling his long tresses from the small fingers the Eldar glared at the Lord of Imladris. "I believed *that* to be a thing of the past when these two finally lost interest in my hair." He cast Elladan and Elrohir a reproachful glance, partly in remembrance of the past and partly because they had not managed to restrain the child that was attempting another grab at the silky strands.
"Mine!" The tiny voice demanded with authority, pouting when Glorfindel pulled all his hair back and secured them at the nape of his neck with one of the braids, smiling triumphantly.
"Is it not below the hero of Gondolin to bicker with a mere babe?" Elrond inquired, mirth tugging at the corners of his mouth at Glorfindel's glare.
Not waiting for an answer he turned to his eldest. "You have returned sooner than anticipated. Something has happened." It was not a question, Elladan and Elrohir would have not returned home before spring and certainly not with a human child in their care had not something - presumably terrible - occurred.
"Sadly so," Elrohir spoke, stepping forward. "Arathorn and Gilraen are dead." He looked at the child, his expression softening when trusting silver eyes met his own. "This is their son, Aragorn."
"Aragorn..." Elrond took the child from his elder son, mindful to keep his own hair from being mauled as Glorfindel's had. "So Arathorn is dead." He looked at the child, sadness weighing on his heart. "Then this child is the last of Isildur's bloodline." Meeting his son's gaze he asked. "What happened?"
Elrohir quickly recounted the tale for his father, noticing the sadness in the elder Elf's eyes. "We thought it would be best to bring the babe to Imladris, tough we can return him to the Dúnedain should you deem it best."
"Nay." Elrond spoke after a few moments. "Your decision was wise." He gently stroked the soft curls, smiling. "The enemy must be led to believe that the Heir of Númenór has been destroyed. If Sauron were to learn that he yet lives he would be hunted all his life. His existence *must* be kept secret, even from the boy himself."
"But, ada..." Elladan interrupted incredulously only to be silenced by a motion of his father's hand.
"Aragorn will remain here. He will be raised in this house as one of our own. When he is old enough I will tell him of his true identity but until that day arrives I place upon you all an oath of secrecy."
Looking around at the assembled Elves he waited until all nodded their accord.
The members of Glorfindel's hunting party were dismissed with a nod of the Lord's head, the rest were lead to his study.
Aragorn, who had grown quite used to seeing new faces by now, was babbling merrily - and rather incoherently - with Lord Elrond, pointing at items he saw as they walked and squealed with delight when the Elf swung him onto his shoulders, something that had always delighted his own sons when they were little.
Lord Elrond's study was a treasure trove filled with books - some older than the twins - and items he had accumulated throughout the many centuries of his life.
Elladan and Elrohir could well remember the many hours they had spent sitting on their father's lap and hearing stories, for Elrond was the greatest Lore master of all the Elven Realms.
Sunlight filtered through the windows, warming the room with it's golden light.
"Surely you do not mean to raise the child yourself?" Glorfindel inquired of his long-time friend. Elrond's wife Celebrían had left for the Undying Lands many centuries ago and it seemed a strange thought to the fair-haired Elf that Elrond, who had walked the face of Middle-earth for nigh on six and a half millennia should now attempt to foster a human babe.
Elrond set the boy on the thick carpet and watched as the child stood to his feet and walked a few steps, clapped his hands at the sight of an ornately carved chessboard and the figurines standing upon it and immediately tried to reach for them.
"I have raised three children, *old friend*, do you not trust me to raise a fourth?" Elrond asked calmly, sighing in relief as Elladan managed to save the chess-set just in time, earning himself a reproachful look from the tiny being.
Glorfindel straightened slightly where he stood, staring at Elrond in a very un-lordly fashion.
"That is most certainly not what I meant, Peredhel. I just meant that our lives have changed a lot since the last time a child lived under your roof. *You* have changed, Elrond."
The Lord of Imladris looked from his sons back to his friend and smiled.
"That I have indeed, as have we all. And yet this child needs us. Little Aragorn has lost everything and I feel it is my duty to ensure that he has a good upbringing and a happy childhood." Elrond looked at the child that was clinging to the arm of a chair, trying to reach a crystal paperweight that stood on his desk.
He lifted the child into his arms. "He is of our blood. Of Elros' blood. We cannot send him away." The Elf Lord kissed the soft cheek and smiled happily as a little head rested against his shoulder. "He will stay and we will manage, of that I am certain. It will be good to hear a child's laughter in this house again."
Elladan and Elrohir smiled at each other. They had grown attached to the imp during their journey to Imladris and even Glorfindel's face lit up a little. Though he had no children of his own he had taken great joy in watching the twins and their sister Arwen grow up. Somehow he really did miss having children around.
"And where shall he sleep?" Elladan inquired.
Elrond looked at his son, mirth twinkling in the dark depths of his eyes. "Well if I remember correctly, ion-nîn, there is a guest room next door to yours. That would make a fine nursery for Estel."
"Estel?" Glorfindel arched an elegant eyebrow, ignoring Elladan's protest concerning the living-arrangements for his new brother.
"Aye," Elrond confirmed, "that shall be his name. His true name will be revealed to him on the day he learns of his heritage."
"But why Estel, ada? Why would you call the child "Hope" in his own tongue?" Elrohir gently stroked the little hand that rested against Lord Elrond's chest, eliciting a sleepy smile from the child.
Elrond smiled fondly as Estel stuck his thumb into his mouth, sighing contentedly.
"I have chosen that name, because I feel it will befit him very well. Besides, I believe he will one day be the only hope Middle-earth will have left." He did not elaborate those cryptic words, in time he would explain them, but not on this day.
Elladan smiled. "We will have to teach him the Grey Tongue an in time El and I shall make a worthy little Elfling of him."
"Elladan!" Elrond admonished, not entirely able to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. "I expect you to be good examples for Estel, he will look up to you." Including both of the twins in a stern glare he asked: "Do you understand me?"
Elladan and Elrohir nodded and answered in unison. "Yes, ada."
"Good." The Lord of Imladris turned to leave the room when a little hand with a wet thumb gently tapped his face and soulful silver eyes looked up at him.
"What is it, Estel?" Elrond inquired softly in the common tongue.
"Essel…" The child tried out the strange word and smiled and snuggled against the Elf.
"Ada." He sighed happily and fell asleep in the arms of the man who would guide him wisely and lovingly for the rest of his life.
"I believe he has just adopted you, Peredhel." Glorfindel laughed and left the room, closely followed by the twins.
Elrond carried Estel to his new room, laying him in the middle of the large bed and gently tucking the covers around him.
Yes, this little human would indeed have quite a path to follow in his life, but on this day all was well in the Last Homely House and the Heir of Númenór slept peacefully in the love and warmth of provided by his Elven family.
"May the stars ever shine on you, my Estel, and may the Valar protect you."
**********
adar/ada = father
Naneth = mother
Ion-nîn = my son
Mae govannen = well met
Peredhel = half-elven
