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: Well, I must say, I'm not happy with this chapter, but I'm not quite sure what to do with it. So, here it is anyways, and hopefully you aren't too disappointed while reading it. And, just to give you one more reason to hate me, I changed the timeline a little. In the canon, Estel meets Arwen right after Elrond reveals to him his heritage. Here, well, you'll see. Please forgive me for this, but it just kind of happened this way when I wrote it.
We're getting to the end here folks, though that may be hard to believe. A few more chapters left.
~~~~OOOOO~~~~
She embraced her sister tightly, drawing her close. It had been so many years since last Arwen had been in Rivendell; even more years since she had called it home. The Evenstar could not bare to be long in the Valley, for it brought to mind the memory of Celebrían, and brought Arwen only sorrow. But she was here now, for a time at least, and that was enough for Rómë.
"Seler, I have missed you," Arwen said as she brushed her youngest sister's cheek with her lips.
"Too long, seler. I am sorry we have been unable to visit these past years. Things have been…complicated," Rómë searched for another word and failed. She smiled at Arwen. "I am glad you are home."
"As am I. Now, wherever is Ada?"
"That, seler nin, is a long story. Come and greet the others; Ada awaits you in his study. He wishes to speak with you."
"Ah," Arwen said, eyes understanding. "And a welcome home it is."
The two sisters disappeared into the shadows of the doorway, just as Estel entered the courtyard. He had heard the arrival of horses, and wondered at the visitors.
"Hail and well met! Where do you ride from?" he asked to the nearest elf.
"From Lórien, Master Human. We came as escort to the Lady Galadriel's granddaughter."
Estel would have asked more, but the guard was already turned away to lead his horse to the stables, leaving the young man to ponder his words. Granddaughter? So far as Estel knew, the Lady had only two granddaughters, and both of them had not left Rivendell in decades. Elrond's young son had a distinctive feeling he had missed something, something fairly important.
Wandering out of the courtyard towards the gardens, he decided to take a walk instead of seeking his father out. Any visitors, granddaughters or otherwise, would always have an audience with his father upon arrival. And Elrond would not want to be disturbed; Estel had learned that the hard way.
~~~~OOOOO~~~~
The sun was beginning to sink below the tree-line, casting the forest into dimness. But even without the assistance of Elven eyesight, Estel knew the woods around Imladris well enough to wander them even in the dark. He was close to the house, though, and could see the lights peaking through the trees. It would be dinner soon, and he should wash and dress before meeting the new guest.
Out of the corner of his eyes he caught a flash of glowing silver moving between the trees. Glancing over he realized it must be an elf but the glow, and whoever it was was heading for the lower bridge behind the council chambers. Estel was overcome by curiosity; he had seen few wander this area before, and perhaps it this could be the mysterious visitor.
Weaving through the trees he left the path in favour of the most direct route. He caught sight of the figure again, and saw it was female, wearing a dress of spun silver. He stepped closer, intending to call out, when suddenly she turned towards him, and in the fading light he saw her face.
Speech left him, as well as thought. In all his years he had lived among the elven race, and seen things of such beauty they would silence a man, he had never seen one as beautiful as this. She was fair as all the elves were, and had the midnight hair he was accustomed to, but her beauty far surpassed any he had seen. In moments his mind conjured up an image of Lúthien. With the impulsiveness of a young man confronted with a beautiful woman, he called out to her with the only name he could think of.
"Tinúviel! Tinúviel!"
Startled she focused on him, her elven sight allowed her to pick him out among the trees. "Do you call to me, sir?"
"My lady," he started. "Forgive me, I took you for a spirit. You look as the pictures of Lúthien do. But I see now, you are no spirit, but real as I."
"You are not the first to mistake me for such. I am descendent of Lúthien; she is my grandfather's grandmother. But tell me, my lord, for I see you are human and not an elf;: how did you come to be here? Though the Valley is a haven for all races, most visitors do not dress as if they were an elf."
Estel blushed. "I was raised here. Elrond is my foster-father."
Her face lit up at this. "Oh, then we are kin, of a sort. Elrond is my father, and I am Arwen, daughter of Celebrían." She bowed her head slightly.
Estel felt as if he should be bowing low to her, for she appeared as a queen of the valley, but he caught himself before he did. "My lady, it is an honor to meet you. I was not aware Elrond had a daughter, though I am well acquainted with his sons. But tell me, your escort said you came from Lórien; is that why I have heard no word of you?"
"Perhaps that is why, young lord. I have been many years in my mother's lands, in the company of my grandparents. But I could not bare to be away from my family any longer. But I had heard no word of you, either, which seems to me strange. If you are as you say a ward of my father's, he has never mentioned you in his letters, nor have my brothers on their visits. And who might you be, to be so close to my family?"
He blushed again, suddenly ashamed for some reason that he should count himself so high in the company of one who was actually blood-kin to Elrond. "I know not why I was given such an honor, my lady, though I am of the north country, and my mother is Dúnedain. My father was killed when I was a young child, and she brought me here to the Valley. I know not why Elrond took me to raise, but I am thankful for it."
The dinner bell rang through the Valley suddenly, and Estel started in surprise. Arwen laughed, and her voice sounded sweet as a nightingale's. "We should return to the house for evening meal," she suggested. "I believe our father has some explaining to do."
Estel agreed, but could not bring himself to walk beside her, instead he followed her down the path towards the main house. Yes, Elrond had a good deal of explaining to do, but Estel suddenly seemed not to care that something so important had been kept from him all these years. All that matter was that Arwen was here now.
~~~~OOOOO~~~~
"Where is Estel?" Andúnë inquired of her sister.
Rómë set her book aside with a sigh. Her eyes, when the lifted to meet her sister's, were haunted and her face drawn with grief.
"Rómë! What is wrong?" Dúnë exclaimed as she fell to her knees by the bench.
"He knows." Dúnë blinked. "Who knows?"
"Estel. Ada told him; told him everything. He knows who he is. He is leaving now; riding north tomorrow morning. He's never coming back." The last sentence was said with such force, that Dúnë knew her sister believed it to be true.
"Oh no," she sighed. "Why? What made Ada tell him?"
Her sister's eyes were distant, staring at something further off than her twin could see.
"He met Arwen by river. He fell in love with her," Rómë chocked, and a tear slide down her cheek. "Ada told him he could not marry her, until he won a kingdom. Estel can no longer stay here." Her silver eyes turned to meet her twin's.
"He's leaving seler, and he's never coming back. Never."
~~~~OOOOO~~~~
You must think these letters too few and far between, but it is difficult to find a messenger to carry them as far north as the Baranduin. And it is even further a journey now, for I have settled in Gondor these past months. Thengel was loath to see me leave, but he understood, as much as he could, that I am a wanderer, and cannot bear to remain in one place for long.
Gondor is not what I thought it would be. Ada's stories were always tales of wonder, of great kingdoms, but Gondor is only an echo now of what it once was. Ecthelion is a good steward, and he governs the people well; but he is not a king, and Gondor is slowly loosing the battle against Sauron.
It is for this Ada sent me away: to rebuild this kingdom long torn asunder, but I find that I have not the strength or courage for such a task. It would take a lifetime; but first the people must accept a king, and they will not. For a thousand years they have lived without one, a monarchy only a distant memory in tales and legends. They would not accept one, especially not an outsider as I am.
Denethor, Ecthelion's young son, seems to have taken an adverse opinion to me from the day I arrived. He begrudges already that I am in his father's graces, and he seems to hate that I have seen more of the world than he. We will never be friends, I believe. But he will rule when Ecthelion dies, and in his pride he will not bow to a king. The entire thing is surely hopeless, as Ada must know in his heart. Perhaps that is why he sent me away in the first place, so that I would learn the truth: that Arwen will never be my wife.
You told me once, that she often spoke of me, before she returned to Lórien. How can I tell her that we can never be? That I have failed to win her hand before I even began the challenge. It is utterly hopeless.
My blessing to my brothers and to Dúnë; and to Ada, if he will have them. My love you to you seler.
Aragorn
He no longer signed it Estel; had not since he had left the north ten years before. His journey south had seemed to mark a change; he was off to accept himself as Aragorn, and leave his past, and Estel behind. No more was he the little boy she had held in her lap: the child who had come running to her the first time he hit the target with an arrow; the first time he had successfully tracked the twins through the woods; the first time he had fallen from a tree and broken his wrist. She could not care for him any longer; could not kiss away his tears and rock him gently. And she missed that most of all, even more than she missed his presence.
Arwen had written some weeks before, asking, as she always did, whether word had come from Estel. Rómë would have to write her back again, and tell her Aragorn was well, and that he missed her. Little good it would do though, if they could never wed.
It grieved her to know her father had caused this suffering, but she understood nonetheless. Rómë could not bare the thought of Arwen choosing mortality, even for Estel, but her sister was unhappy with Elrond's decision. If mortality and Estel would bring Arwen happiness, as little had since Celebrían had left, then so be it; but her father thought otherwise. He had lost his parents, his brother, his foster-father, and his wife; he would do all he could to be certain he did not loose a child as well.
She pulled a piece of parchment towards her and dipped a quill into the ink pot.
Dearest seler; it has not been long since I answered your last letter, but I have news you would wish to hear…