Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, ideas or anything else from Lord of the Rings. I do however lay claim on Elrond's twin daughters as Tolkien never wrote about any twin elven girls anywhere in his books. Everything else though, as much as I wish it, is not mine and belongs to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien (a wonderful, wonderful man). Except for a 2-year-old toddler by the name of Estel (forever called tithen min by his siblings) who needs looking after.
AN: Look at me, I can update. I can also skip 500 years of history without bating an eyelash. I apologize if I have skipped events you were fond of, but after spending far too many hours reading through the timeline and planning it out, I realized that for the twins, nothing exceptionally important happens between Celebrían's sailing and Arathorn's death. At least nothing worth writing about. So, here is the tale of baby Aragorn and his coming to Imladris.
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"They have not returned?" Rómë asked as she entered the study. Her father was sitting as his desk, vainly going over papers. She was certain he hadn't read a single word. Her sister was standing but a foot away from where the rain was pouring down; the sound on the roof nearly deafening in the silence of the room.
The twins had sent a rider ahead of their party, saying they were but a few hours away and in desperate need of medical aide. The messenger had spilled out the entire tale as he stood dripping all over the study floor; but Elrond would not let him leave until he had heard it all.
The twins had ridden out two weeks ago to meet up with a group of Rangers, led by the Dunadan himself. They were off to track a band of orcs that had been ravaging too close to the northern settlements. Rivendell had had no word since then, and did not really expect one until the twins themselves returned. But the storm was an ominous sign, and when the elf had ridden into the courtyard, those that saw him knew immediately that something was very wrong.
Very wrong indeed; Rómë sighed, bringing back to her mind the panicked words of the elf her brothers had sent ahead of them to tell Elrond what had happened.
They had caught up with the orcs four days ago and attacked late afternoon; the battle had gone well with few injuries to the Rangers and none to the twins. They had ridden back to the nearest Ranger settlement, planning to stay a few days to be certain there were no further problems.
Two days later a band of orcs, nearly akin to the Rangers in numbers, attacked the camp. Things would no doubt have gone quite differently had the settlement not contained women and children. The Rangers had done what they could to draw the orcs away, but the battle had lasted until morning; leaving all the orcs dead, but many of the Dúnedain as well. Their Chieftain among them.
The twins had stayed long enough to give what aid they could and see the survivors on the road north to another, larger camp. They had then left for home, taking only a small party of men with them; those most seriously injured and in need of Lord Elrond's skill. And with them they were bringing the now widowed wife of the Dúnedain Chief, and her young son; the two-year-old Heir of Isildur.
Her father was on edge; not only with worry over his sons and concern over the men who were injured, but most of his thought was focused on the young boy; a child who was now in deadly danger.
Arómenë came to stand beside her sister, gazing out into the blackness beyond. They should have arrived by now, unless something had befallen them on the road. She hoped not; she was terrified for her brothers, but even her own thoughts drifted to the boy. What would her father do now? He had sheltered the Heirs before now, but never one as young as this. The boy was now fatherless, and in danger anywhere he went. If the enemy learned who he was, or where he was….Rómë couldn't bear the thought. They would hunt the child mercilessly until they found and killed him. No, he must be kept safe, and nowhere was now safer than the Valley, where the enemy was not yet able to enter.
The sound of hooves hitting the stone courtyard snapped her swiftly from her thoughts.
"Ada! They are here!" And without a pause she caught Dúnë's hand and hurried her from the room.
The twins were issuing quick orders when they arrived at the front entrance. But the girls did not venture out into the rain; it would be no help to get soaking wet. Elrohir appeared at Rómë's side out of the darkness, and she grabbed him fiercely to her. "We have been so worried the last few hours. Ada will be waiting in the Halls for you. Dúnë and I will see to the lady Gilraen."
Elrohir acknowledged her quickly and motioned his brother inside. Three men followed them, carrying two others in their arms. Even in the darkness Rómë could see the blood, and she could certainly smell it. She sent a quick prayer to the Valar that they were not too late. But the injured men were her brothers' and father's concern, and she must look to the lady and Arathorn's young child.
Gilraen was standing beside her horse, clutching a bundle in her arms and staring at the house before her as if she did not really see it. And no doubt she did not; Arathorn had visited here before, but not his wife, and Rómë guessed the combined shock of the elven refuge and the recently violent death of her husband wasn't leaving her mind much room for thought.
"Lady Gilraen, please come out of the rain!" Dúnë shouted from her sister's side. No answer or even acknowledgement came from the figure.
"I suppose we shall be getting wet then," Rómë sighed. "I shall bring her." And she ran out from the cover of the house, took the woman around the shoulders and propelled her forwards. If she expected a reaction at all, she was disappointed.
"Come, and let's get you into some dry clothes. Is the child well?" The twins were looking intently at the still bundle she held so tightly; hoping that the child simply slept. "Gilraen, is the child well?"
The woman blinked, and stared down at the babe, as if realizing for the first time that she held him. She looked back at the twins and nodded. "Then let us get you dry; you will catch your death in this weather." Dúnë said, and then winced at the mention of 'death'. But Gilraen made no reaction and the elves continued to lead her down the halls towards their own chambers.
It took surprisingly little convincing on their part to get the woman to give up the boy into Rómë's care, and even less to get her into a warm bath and dry clothes. Rómë unwrapped the boy to find he was indeed sleeping. His heartbeat was even and he seemed warm, despite having been wrapped in wet blankets, but she supposed there had been so many of them that the rain had not soaked completely through.
"Ah, tithen min, I am so very sorry for what has happened. I cannot imagine what it will be like, to grow up without your father; but I do understand what it is to loose a parent. But we shall do what we can, and I have no doubt Gilraen is a wonderful mother. You shall never lack for love, hen nin. I shall make sure of it myself." Just then the boy opened his eyes and stared up at her, and she was startled to see familiar eyes looking back at her. "Valar, you look just like them!"
Dúnë froze in the doorway and stared at her sister. "Rómë, what is it?"
Her twin looked up at her, and Dúnë was stunned to see tears in her eyes. "What is wrong seler?" she rushed to her side.
"The boy…" her sister choked, "look at his eyes." Dúnë glanced down at the child and saw her father's eyes staring back at her. "He's…he…" she trailed off, at a loss for words. But Rómë found her voice; "Never has there been an Heir that looked so much like his forefather. By Yavanna, he could be Elros' own child! Dúnë, if Ada sees him…" but she too trailed off, knowing there was no reason to finish the thought out loud.
"Is everything well?"
Rómë whipped around to find her eldest brother standing just inside the room. He was stilled dressed in his traveling clothes, although he had taken off his soaked outer tunic, and he looked physically and mentally tired; and under it all, Rómë could see the strain that the loss of Arathorn was causing. But at that very moment she had little thought to spare for her brother's grieving mental state. Come morning it would be time to grieve for the dying, but tonight there were more important things to worry about, like a little boy.
"Rómë?" Elladan was beside her now and he reached out a hand to her shoulder, glancing between the two of them.
"Elladan," his youngest sister breathed and turned her gaze to the child. Elladan followed her eyes to that of the child's and gasped. "Elros…"
The girls nodded in mute agreement. A noise from the washing room shook Dúnë out of her trance and she hurried back to Gilraen, helping the woman to the bed. Brushing her siblings aside she took the boy into her arms and returned him to his mother. Gilraen curled around him on the bed, closed her eyes and uttered no words to any of them.
Elladan had by then recovered enough to pull them from the room before whispering: "Adar has seen to the men; one of them shall recover, but the other he is not certain will live through the night. He will not leave the bedside, but Elrohir and I will stay with him, should he need anything. I suggest you both go to your rest; although, perhaps it would be best if one of you stayed with Lady Gilraen tonight."
His sisters nodded and bid him a goodnight, knowing he would have anything but. Dúnë offered first watch on the young woman and her twin relented, retiring to Dúnë's room for a few hours rest.
The Valley quieted, even the storm had passed off, but the emotional turmoil rolled through the house, and very few of its inhabitants slept soundly.