Author's Note: Sorry, but I needed to re-do due to a misunderstanding of the proper theory. In case anyone was wondering, it was the Grey Havens bit. For some reason I equated it to Valinor; can't think why. Anyway, hope it doesn't confuse people.

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That morning, breakfast was silent. Elrond was fuming quietly to himself, snapping at anyone who spoke to him with a razor-sharp tongue. Even Erestor had not been exempt from his ill-temper. And as for Estel, the youth hadn't shown up at all, preferring to lie shell-shocked in his own bed with the memory of those anger-filled grey eyes bored into his mind.

But now the man looked at the ceiling from his pillow and couldn't keep the agony from his face. Oh yes, Elrond had been disgusted, had wanted nothing to do with such a one as he. That fact alone contained more hurt than all the agonies of war together.

Hours later Elladan and Elrohir happened upon him still in bed, a dull look in his eyes and a white line around his mouth. As one, they put together his blinding pain and their father's anger and guessed what had taken place. As one, they came in and shut the door firmly behind them.

Aragorn looked at them with only half recognition, still dwelling in thoughts and memories, floating away in his mind so he could leave such soul-destroying pain behind.

"You told him, then," Elladan said, clearing his throat unnecessarily.

Aragorn nodded. "Last night," he intoned, "I barely said it when he threw me out of his room. He said he hoped it was a joke. He turned me away, Elladan. How?"

Elladan looked pleadingly to his twin. Elrohir was usually the one who could talk Aragorn out of his depressions. And clearly it couldn't be Elrond this time.

Aragorn continued, sounding breathless and stunned as his thoughts formed on his lips. "Why? I've tried so hard. I've done everything; become everything. He was glad I was home and now he will wish to abandon me. I know I'm not worthy of him, but my heart is pure and I hurt no one by loving him. I'm not handsome or rich or- or influential. Sweet Elbereth, I'm not even an elf! But I love him... doesn't mean that anything at all? Why cannot he want me just a little?"

Elrohir cleared his throat. "Estel, you knew that Ada had no idea about any of this. You can hardly expect him not to be shocked and incredulous when you go to his bedchamber at night and tell him such things." He hesitated and then plunged once more. "You also knew that there was every chance Ada would not fall on your neck with a glad cry, my friend."

The long inhuman wail from the broken figure on the bed startled both elvish males enough that they clutched convulsively at each other and stared in shock and horror as Aragorn let go of every façade of bravery he'd ever had and cried his heart out.

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Arwen too had guessed the reason for her father's black mood very quickly. Being the one the most like him, she supposed she could read him better than her siblings. At any rate it was clear the Elf Lord was more enraged at himself than he was at anyone else.

Arwen waited only until Elrond went outside to the gardens before following.

"I need no nursemaid," Elrond snapped, surprising her with his knowledge. She had thought him to be preoccupied. "What is it, Arwen? I had hoped for some time to myself."

"And you will get that," she promised, laying a gentle hand on his arm, "But I must first be allowed to be your concerned daughter. What bothers you, Ada? Has someone upset you?"

The stiff, formal robes fell from under her fingers as Elrond stepped away. Ostensibly he went to examine a delicate summer's flower; in truth, he couldn't bear the question. "It is private."

"It is Estel," she answered implacably.

Grey eyes clashed with grey eyes and a battle of wills was on. Neither would back down, neither gave an inch and most importantly, both reached desperately for the truth in each other's stare.

"Yes," the elder said abruptly, "It is Estel. But it is also still private. I want no more talk of this. Please, Arwen, leave me to myself for a few moments, as a concerned daughter."

The elf-maiden couldn't resist a smile. Trust her father to turn her own phrases on her! Putting her pretty nose in the air, she pretended to twitch the hem of her simple white gown after her on her way back to the house. Elrond's quiet chuckle followed her pert teasing.

And it was precisely that which she could not stand. She loved Aragorn, but Aragorn loved Elrond; and she too loved Elrond, though her needs from him were different. It frightened her sometimes, this need to do right. "He loves you with all his heart, Ada," Arwen murmured gently, "Do not make him despise himself for it. He suffers greatly, I know. It- it is never easy to admit to a love one knows is hopeless."

"Love? Arwen, I am his father!"

"And as his father you have a duty to answer him!" she retorted. The sun scattered fiery embers on the dark hairs around her face. "He is young and eager. But he also has a heart. And that heart is right now clenched and bleeding in your hand. Do not scorn it and throw it in the dust; go to him. Give it back to him gently and explain. You owe him that much."

Elrond was left to watch his daughter trail a heavy walk back to the serene house. In the sleepy golden sunshine of summer in Imladris, such drama was not to be borne! And Estel- in love with him? What maggot had put such an idea in the child's head? It was downright indecent for Estel to even ask him for such love!

"But you are right, my Arwen," Elrond groaned, looking back to his red summer's bloom, "There is a conversation to be had."

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"Estel?"

Elrohir jumped back and stared wildly to the door. "It's Ada," he hissed, turning frantically to Aragorn.

The youth was even then struggling into clothes and hastily smoothing his hair into some semblance of its ordered mess. "I'm not here," he hissed back.

"Uh, Estel's not here," Elladan called.

Elrond compressed his lips over a smile and sweetly opened the door, standing regally in the doorway and looking from Estel's terrified face to Elladan's red one. "So I see," he commented.

"We were, uh, just leaving," Elrohir stammered, grabbing Elladan and pulling him away. "Riding... in the woods... it's pretty this time of year. There should be flowers." The twins fled and left Aragorn calling them both traitors in his head.

"You are crying, pen-neth," Elrond said gently, moving to his son. For such Aragorn would always be, no matter what crazy notion he took in his head. "For what?"

"I am not crying! And I am not a young one! I was trying to tell you that last night and you wouldn't listen to me."

"I know, Estel, and I ask your forgiveness. You had the right to be heard, whatever my personal feelings. If I were to listen to you now, would you still speak?"

Aragorn stared at the gentle face with calculating eyes and clenched fists. He didn't trust this sweetness. Elrond must have been hit on the head and be suffering from memory loss; there was no means by which the elf could change his opinion in one night. "I said what I needed to last night. If you did not listen, it was not my fault."

E;rond squashed an inner sigh and held out his hands helplessly. "Estel, please! I'm trying to be civil! Show me that much respect!" Something softened in the young face so close to his and told him to proceed.

Sitting them both down on the edge of the human's still rumpled bed, Elrond proceeded to explain his shock and chagrin, explain the reasons he hadn't been able to control his temper the night before, to explain subtly that he understood Estel was only suffering from a misplaced feeling of gratitude and filial love.

Aragorn started at that. "Gratitude?" he gasped. Snatching up Elrond's hand, he pressed it to the evidence of his desire for the male sitting so close to him. "Does that feel like gratitude, My Lord of Imladris?" he spat.

Elrond snatched his hand back and gazed helplessly at the burning shame on Aragorn's face. Estel was aroused just by sitting near him and talking? Warning alarms were ringing in the elf's pointed ears. Particularly since the brief contact had produced a look of dreamy contemplation on his son's face. The look, like the night before, resembled a tiger preparing to pounce.

"Estel, don't..."

"Ssh! You believe me now?"

A silent, sympathetic nod with heartbreak in the grey eyes.

"It hurts, Elrond," Aragorn suddenly whispered, leaning closer as if confiding a secret. "It hurts and I ache for your touch, your hand. Even just your eyes! If you were only to look at me with love- from one man to his lover- I would be content. Just... one... look..."

Elrond was startled by a pink tongue swirling over the sensitive creases of his ear just before he pulled away with something like an undignified squeak. Aragorn followed him, his hands capturing the elf's face and pulling him in for a long, deep kiss that left Elrond so torn he couldn't pull away.

"I could make you happy," Aragorn whispered, trailing his lips over the dropped lower jaw, "I could make you feel alive again."

"I am alive," Elrond protested, half-heartedly pushing Aragorn's mouth from his face. It didn't deter the younger man, who simply latched onto his slender middle finger- the longest on his hand- and swallowed it to the hilt.

The Elf Lord gasped and pulled it back, hearing it exit that succulent mouth with an audible pop. Standing quickly, he made for the door. "This is foolishness, Estel. You cannot be in love with me."

"I am, Elrond," Aragorn protested, "Why is it hard for you to see?"

"Because you are my son!" Elrond said clearly, the torment clearly visible in his usually guarded eyes, "You are my son and this- this relationship you propose is beyond disgrace!"

"But I am not your son," Aragorn said pleadingly, "I am but Aragorn, a man who offers you his heart on bended knee. I don't expect for you to love me. All I ask is that you let me love you. If you tired of me I would leave you at your request, but until then let me make you happy."

"Estel, I would that it were that simple. But, child, I have brought you up and in my heart you are my son. Would you have me approach you in twisted need?"

"I would have you approach me anyway you did," Aragorn swore, "I would take the loneliness from your life."

Elrond shook his head sadly. "Forget such foolishness, ion nin. My loneliness is not your concern. I will not approach you and I promise you that what you feel is not love, but the confused feeling of one just newly in his manhood. It will pass. I do not want you unhappy, but you cannot come to me again with such a desire. I cannot satisfy you in that way."

In the sudden emptiness of his room, Aragorn licked his lips and remembered the clean-tasting sweetness of the skin he had tasted, the explosion of overwhelming happiness when he'd kissed Elrond as he'd wanted to do for so long. And for one blissful moment, as he'd sucked on the Elf Lord's finger, Aragorn had seen a flash of dark desire in Elrond's eye.

Slowly dropping to his knees, he slid a hand between his legs and closed his eyes, savouring the few sensory snatches he'd gleaned from this recent visit.