Author's Note: This is plodding really heavily, so the series will most probably wrap itself up in the next chapter.

Author's Note 2: Set 6 ½ years after Estel is made to leave Imladris. This is his return. Therefore the period inbetween in when he goes into the wilds and joins the Rangers of the North and does all those covert name-changing operations.

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The morning was marvellous- a rising wave of spring and sunlight. To Glorfindel, such mornings were the everyday glory of Imladris and should, as such, be treasured.

But not this morning.

No, this morning was not to be treasured at all and the entire household had tiptoed around corners and whispered fearfully in private rooms concerning this morning. And it was with small wonder, the gloomy Balrog Slayer decided. After all, it was not every day that the morning dawned in Imladris with the impending arrival of its Lord's youngest son. And Estel was expected before the sun reached its midday peak.

Breakfast had been so quiet in Elrond's house as to be almost non-existent. Arwen had spent the last two weeks looking anguished and hopeful. Elladan and Elrohir had met their brother in the wilds frequently enough in the six and a half years since his departure but were wary nonetheless. Glorfindel himself found his mind dwelling on possible consequences with alarming constancy.

By contrast, Glorfindel noted, Elrond had seemed serene, going about his business with his typical attentiveness as if nothing was wrong. It was as if the Elf Lord did not remember the disturbing events that had split his family in the first place! And yet the blond seneschal knew better than to believe that.

"Ai, mellon nin," he sighed to himself, watching his friend meander out into the forest as if in search of something, a book tucked securely under one arm, "You cannot fool an old friend. And I am old enough to know you do feel this."

Whatever Elrond's thoughts on the matter of diverting the attentions of his friends, he deemed he was being fairly discreet. Certainly his children were none the wiser, though their glances had been reaching more and more suspicious levels as the day approached. Whether Glorfindel knew or Erestor guessed he was less concerned with.

He smiled slightly as he felt the regard of worried blue eyes burn into his back. So Glorfindel still watched! He deliberately slowed his steps and made his gait light, strolling with the semblance of an untroubled spirit, ignoring the insecurities in his head and heart for when he was alone. He gripped the book tighter, feeling it as a lifeline to another life, a life in which everything had been perfect and a little boy had once sat in his lap and laughed with delight at the fascinating drawings.

The sun climbed steadily and still Estel had not arrived. Elladan had made his way to the stables with Elrohir to consult about the possible injury to the foreleg of his horse. Elves of various statures went fleetly about their tasks and even Glorfindel had relinquished his anxious post near the front entranceway to attend to the accounts that Elrond had left in his charge. Arwen alone sat watch in a window and counted the minutes by on her fingers.

No horse approached the house. No messenger arrived to present apologies and explanations for the delay. And last but certainly not least, no dust- grimed Ranger arrived to tell sorrowfully of Estel's ultimate inability to return. All this and more fostered hope in the elf-maiden's eyes.

And so it was, that when Aragorn led his horse on foot to the entranceway of the Last Homely House, his watchful eyes espied only Arwen's excited grey ones rising to meet his. And her lovely mouth slid into the beginnings of a glorious smile as she flew to her feet and out to his arms, clasping her arms around his neck with a happy cry of welcome.

Aragorn was almost of the opinion that it was a dream; such loveliness was not to be tolerated unprotected and unrevered on Middle Earth. Tentatively he felt his own mouth curve at the ends, unsure really of whether it was a smile because he had not done so for long months at a time. He dropped the reins as Glorfindel came down to meet him, his eyes devouring even that elf's majesty as the reality of home crashed in. Almost as an afterthought, he heard the yell from his twin older brothers as they arrived to welcome him back.

Home... home as he had never thought to return to it!

"You look tired," Elladan accused, "Do not tell me that you found orcs even within our borders?"

"And what impertinence," Elrohir neatly interjected, hands on his hips, "To send word asking for formal permission to enter Imladris!"

Aragorn's mouth twisted at the corner as he offered a wry look. "I was not sure of my welcome," he said simply, turning to pull something from his pack, "Imladris is no longer my home as you well know."

"Nay, pen-neth," Glorfindel said gently, "you have a home here, and you always will while any of us yet remain to bid you welcome. We did not send you away with rejection."

"I know, Glorfindel," the man answered quietly, offering a glance of understanding, "I did believe that... even then. And it is good to return to my family once more." But he didn't want to think of that. For six long years he had travelled and agonized over the reason for his banishment and it had come down to this- he could not let this ruin his family. Even if Elrond wanted nothing more to do with him, Aragorn would keep this at all costs, if only for hope's sake. " For you, Arwen, a present from a kingdom far to the east. I saw it and thought how well it would look on you."

"Why thank you, kind Ranger," Arwen teased in kind, even dropping a small bow as she accepted the small box, "Well, this is exciting." She opened the box and gasped at the intricately worked scarf. Small stars of silver thread were worked into the light material, glittering with interweaving golden flakes. "Estel! This is truly beautiful!"

He raised her chin to meet her eyes with his. "But you are by far more fair," he promised, "I have missed you, Arwen. We must talk soon; I have much to tell you about the places I have seen. They are all so fascinating you will not believe a word I say."

"I do not believe you already," Elrohir teased, his eyes shining as he clasped his brother's wrist, "You always did like to embellish your tales with fiction."

"Ah, but this time there is no room for fiction," Aragorn retorted easily, "The fiction could be no more astonishing than the truth."

The older elf stood back and watched the four chatter together, the weary horse shifting beneath its load by Aragorn's side. Glorfindel let his eyes roam over the returning man, seeing the last traces of softness burnt away with the harshness of the past years. The hair on his face proclaimed his age and also his recent concern with matters not directly dealing with his wellbeing. The elvish warrior could only guess at the worries those shoulders had borne, or of the things those eyes had seen.

And finally the moment came- Elrond emerged silently from the forest and watched the scene from the other side.

Glorfindel let his inner voice call a triumphant yell; he had been right to doubt his friend's seeming unconcern. If Elrond's current fixed stare was anything to go by, there would be trouble before two days were up. He also made a mental note to go to the forest later and find the book his Lord seemed to have left behind.

"Estel," he called quietly, hoping to prepare the boy- no, man- for the coming confrontation. There was a newfound maturity that lurked in the hollows of that worn face, but Glorfindel did not know just how far that dignity had spread. Enquiring eyes looked to him. "You had better come in and rest. And wash! You do not look as if you have been in civilized places for quite some time."

The man laughed and shook his head. "I have not, my good Glorfindel. Am I that dirty?"

"Yes," Elladan muttered, wrinkling his nose as he and Elrohir divided Estel's remaining possessions between them. "Honestly, Estel, did you not find a river or pond on your travels?"

The man stiffened and for an instant Arwen feared he was offended. But Aragorn had other things on his mind, things he'd wanted to say and felt he should say before another moment had passed. But the look in those grey eyes, so like those he saw in his less horrific dreams, stilled him. Offering a small smile he shook his head again and made some vague remark in reply as he followed his adopted siblings indoors.

Glorfindel waited for Elrond to walk the short distance to his side before letting his eyes sharpen to an intensely blue stare. Grey eyes met his fearlessly. "You saw him, Elrond. What is your opinion?"

"Estel has not returned," the elf sighed heavily, more sorrow stabbing into his soul than he cared to admit to, "Nor do I believe he is ever likely to."

A blond eyebrow rose. "Not Estel?" Glorfindel questioned, "And exactly who do you say that mortal is, then?"

"It is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur," Elrond answered with rare irony, "And I expect dinner will be a very interesting meal, all things considered."

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However, dinner was not as interesting as might have been expected. Elrond was called away to the Healing Wing and Aragorn excused himself before that elf's return on the grounds of exhaustion. That left four elves to look to each other and shrug helplessly.

But again, the night did not end as planned.

Elrond found his foster son strolling aimlessly amidst the blossoms of spring by the light of the moon, eyes closed as he relearned the exact distances and corners of the Elf Lord's private gardens. The dark whispers of the night seemed to highlight the peculiarities of this meeting and so Elrond made to leave.

Aragorn stiffened as he sensed the presence to his left and he turned sharply to face it, dropping into a defensive stance through long habit. "Elrond."

The Lord of Imladris nodded and turned to stay. "Aragorn." For a moment they both held still, eyes searching the other for confirmation of their separate fears. Then Elrond cleared his throat and gestured to the human to walk with him. "I am sorry I missed your return," he said carefully.

Aragorn shrugged. In truth, he had expected nothing less. "You have duties that needed to be addressed," he murmured, "I understand that better than you would imagine. But you did miss the evening meal. Have you eaten?"

"I have. Did you imagine Erestor would let me forgo a meal without good reason?"

The touch of humour brought an answering smile to Aragorn's lips and for a moment- just one- they were father and son sharing a gentle joke together again. But then the moment passed and with it Elrond realized afresh that this was no member of his family walking beside him, but a man who had his own destiny and his own thoughts.

"You are strangely silent, Aragorn," the elf said quietly, "Tell me of your travels."

It was almost a physical reaction, so fast did Aragorn shut down his emotions at the mere mention of his six years away from Imladris. "They happened. That is all." No, he thought desolately, he did not want to talk of those years. Or of the horrors and fears he had felt and seen.

"Aragorn..."

"You do not call me Estel?" Aragorn asked bitterly, "Am I no longer a beacon of hope? Or am I just another mortal like every other you have met? Not only do you throw me from my home, but you must take away my solace as well! You are cruel, melethron."

"I take nothing from you, but..."

"It is my first night; I walk in these gardens where the invisible reach of your hand caresses my face and my thoughts, and I try to steel myself to meet you on the morrow. I promise myself that you will never know what I endure. I tell myself that you will find in me nothing but respect and friendship. But in one night your tongue rips my very soul out of me!"

"Ion nin, hush!"

Elrond was stunned. Clearly something was wrong with Aragorn, because the man was standing rigid as a steel pillar, the cords in his hands and neck clearly defined in the starlight as his pale face betrayed the pain he still felt. It wasn't over! It hadn't worked! And Aragorn was as lost to him as Estel was, apparently.

"I. Am. Not. Your. Son." The words were bitten out in harshness. The finer passions of need and soft offering had obviously disappeared with the enthusiasm of youth. "You did not believe me then; believe me now- I am no longer a son of yours. I thank you for the care you have taken of me in my youth and as a man of honour I pledge myself to repay your efforts in any way I can. But as Aragorn- and Estel- I will no longer accept you as my father. Do you still scorn me?"

Elrond was torn. Aragorn had come back more beautiful than when he had left. Elves were susceptible to beauty of all types, revelling in physical perfection but admiring of the spiritual as well. Behind the man's messy, tiredly bedraggled appearance, the Elf Lord was well aware that a handsome man not yet in the prime of life still remained; the passion and dignity that radiated from him was more tempting by far. It called to his barriers in ways he could not begin to describe. But even if he could live through the sacrilege of taking a man who had formerly been his adopted son, Elrond would not put his Arwen through such pain. He shook his head.

"I thought not," Aragorn sighed. With an absent hand he raked the hair out of his eyes. "If you will forgive me, Lord Elrond, I will retire for the night. I am tired from my journey."

"Good night, Aragorn," Elrond said simply.

The man bowed slightly to the elf and left, still light and swift on his feet in spite of his evident exhaustion. Troubled grey eyes watched him go, an odd longing for what might have been still glowing softly in their depths. But Elrond knew better than to trust his need for companionship. Aragorn was neither Aureif nor Celebrian; he would not make the mistake of loving the man enough to take such a chance.