Author's note: As a true hobbit, I thought I'd give you a present for my birthday. So here it is: the next chapter. Don't expect another one any time soon, since the first of my exams is on Monday and they carry on until July.
Aragorn stared at Elrond. The words seemed to be echoing around in his head, and he wasn't sure if he had truly heard them. The walls of anger he had built up because of this simple believe were being shattered by that simple statement. Could it be true? Could he have been wrongly believing that Lord Elrond was his son's murderer for ten years?
"But. . ." Aragorn began, his thoughts a jumble in his mind, "But you said. . ."
"I told you the child would never be born. I Saw this. I never meant for you to take it as a threat, to think. . . to think that I could do such a thing." Aragorn heard the sorrow in Elrond's voice, heard the pain brought on by the whole situation. For the first time, Aragorn realised that all that had happened had hurt Elrond too, perhaps as much as it had hurt Aragorn.
For ten years, Aragorn had convinced himself that the one he called a father had betrayed him, murdering his unborn child and casting him aside. Aragorn had told Legolas once, years before, that he could forgive the one who betrayed him for everything he had done, except for one thing. The only thing Aragorn could never forgive was his son's death, and now it seemed that this was never even Elrond's doing.
The truths that had made Aragorn strong and threatened to break him at the same time, throughout his exile were now destroyed, and Aragorn couldn't find a voice to say what this was doing to him, inside him.
"I knew that Arwen would bind herself to you publicly and forsake her immortality, because of the child. She would surrender her life for the sake of a child who would never even be born. I could not bear it if I were to lose her." Tears were flowing softly down Elrond's cheeks, mirrored by those on Aragorn's face.
"You really thought that I could kill my own grandchild? My own daughters flesh and blood?" Elrond asked, pain tangible behind his words.
"That was why it hurt so much," Aragorn answered, his words soft and barely audible,
"I trusted you completely and it seemed you had destroyed a piece of myself in that child. How could I do anything but hate you? A hate made far worse by the fact that I still loved you."
"I am sorry, Estel," Elrond said, and Aragorn didn't protest the name, "I'm sorry I ever led you to believe as you did."
"I'm sorry I couldn't trust you enough to know you would never act in such a way."
"I acted in ways I am not proud of. I took you into my home and tried to raise you as a son. But in the end, I pushed you aside in favour of my daughter. My actions were born out of love of Arwen, but they were unforgivable towards you."
"But I did forgive them," Aragorn replied, "I forgave you were disowning me, for sending me away, for banning me any contact with Arwen or the twins. I forgave you for everything a long time ago, except for my child. And now you tell me you had no hand in that. I love Arwen. I love her so deeply and completely that I would rather never set eyes on her again, than see her die because of me. I left Rivendell that night without protest because I, like you, want Arwen to live. If she must think that I do not love her, then so be it. I will not cause her death."
Elrond looked at him for a long time, an expression of admiration on his face. Aragorn couldn't guess what was happening in the mind behind those eyes, but the sight of such an expression sent a surge of joy through his heart. The first he had felt in a long time.
"You are wiser than I had guessed," Elrond said at last, "and stronger. I had not realised until this moment just how true your love for Arwen is."
"Thank you."
Neither of them had a chance to say anything more, because, after a knock that was a gesture rather than any true request for permission, a guard opened the door and entered the study. He was rather out of breath, looking as though he had just run a considerable distance. Both Aragorn and Elrond were on their feet, waiting for the guard to explain his presence.
"My lord," he gasped, "you must come. . . a girl. . . attacked."
A girl? That word generally implied a human, and humans rarely came to Imladris. Aragorn's mind jumped to the only conclusion it could. He'd left Eltha alone in the wilds, and now something had happened to her.
He almost knocked the guard over in his haste to get out of the study. He could hear Elrond running behind him, but Aragorn was in more of a position to forget dignity for haste. As he reached the staircase, Aragorn leapt down several steps at a time, and even vaulted the banisters near the bottom instead of running round them.
He paused for a barest moment at the door, looking into the courtyard. He could only glimpse the figure lying on the paved ground, surrounded by a crowd of curious elves, but that glimpse was enough to tell him who it was that lay there. Dark hair was matted with blood, and black arrows were protruding from clothes made in shades of Ranger-brown.
Aragorn shoved his way through the crowd with no respect for those he pushed roughly aside. He was kneeling at Eltha's side, relieved beyond measure to see she was still breathing. All his thoughts had been on coming here, seeing Arwen and the others again. He hadn't even considered that he might be leaving Eltha in danger.
The teenager, almost a child, opened her eyes and looked up into the concerned pair looking down at her. Aragorn glanced over the rest of her body, seeing the two orc arrows, one in her chest and one in her leg, and a deep gash up her sword arm that had clearly been made by a blade, and not a very clean one at that.
"I'm sorry," Eltha managed to say, falling back into her native tongue. Clearly the pain was too much for her to speak in her secondary language of Westron.
"I'm the one who should be sorry," Aragorn answered, using her own language.
"I had to come," Eltha continued, "had to warn. . ." Her voice failed, and she began a painful cough that caused spasms of pain to flow through her body and turned her lips red with her own blood. Aragorn waited until she could speak again. He knew that she would insist on delivering the warning, and he would not be able to persuade her to submit to healing until she did.
"Orcs," Eltha said at last, "So many. . . I couldn't fight. . . Left me for dead."
"It's alright," Aragorn said, "you're safe now. We'll take care of the orcs." She smiled weakly, and then simply lost consciousness. Aragorn was amazed that she had managed to stay awake for so long as it was.
Aragorn stood aside, letting his father in to check her wounds and give orders to the healers. Aragorn relayed the message Eltha had delivered, translating it so that Elrond knew the danger Imladris was in.
"She was almost crawling the last part of the journey," someone said, "how she managed to get this far with thos wounds is beyond me."
"Did she say how many orcs there were?" Elrond asked, standing back to let a pair of healers move Eltha gently onto a stretcher.
Aragorn shook his head. "She only said that there were too many to fight. She seemed to think that Rivendell was in danger from them."
"We'll send out scouts to see where the orcs are, and in what numbers." Elrond gave a couple of brief orders, then headed inside after Eltha. Aragorn felt fear twisting his gut. Eltha was his student, his responsibility. He'd been so caught up in his own, selfish plans that he'd just disregarded her safety. If she were to die from her injuries, it would be as much his fault as if he had dealt them himself.
Legolas and the twins had come out of the house. Aragorn passed them as he made to follow Elrond to the healing wing.
"Eltha?" Legolas asked. Aragorn nodded, but didn't slow to speak to them.
"Who's Eltha?" he heard one of the twins ask.
"Aragorn's student," Legolas answered, "and his friend." Aragorn was so intent on reaching Eltha and doing anything he could to aid Elrond in healing her, that he didn't notice a face staring down intently from one of the windows.
Arwen watched through the haze of tears at Aragorn's distress. He was afraid that this human girl was hurt, though he hadn't cared that Arwen, the one he was betrothed to, had been hurt bitterly by his own actions.
As she stood, the green fire of jealousy burned brightly inside her, feeding the anger that was already growing there.
Aragorn stared at Elrond. The words seemed to be echoing around in his head, and he wasn't sure if he had truly heard them. The walls of anger he had built up because of this simple believe were being shattered by that simple statement. Could it be true? Could he have been wrongly believing that Lord Elrond was his son's murderer for ten years?
"But. . ." Aragorn began, his thoughts a jumble in his mind, "But you said. . ."
"I told you the child would never be born. I Saw this. I never meant for you to take it as a threat, to think. . . to think that I could do such a thing." Aragorn heard the sorrow in Elrond's voice, heard the pain brought on by the whole situation. For the first time, Aragorn realised that all that had happened had hurt Elrond too, perhaps as much as it had hurt Aragorn.
For ten years, Aragorn had convinced himself that the one he called a father had betrayed him, murdering his unborn child and casting him aside. Aragorn had told Legolas once, years before, that he could forgive the one who betrayed him for everything he had done, except for one thing. The only thing Aragorn could never forgive was his son's death, and now it seemed that this was never even Elrond's doing.
The truths that had made Aragorn strong and threatened to break him at the same time, throughout his exile were now destroyed, and Aragorn couldn't find a voice to say what this was doing to him, inside him.
"I knew that Arwen would bind herself to you publicly and forsake her immortality, because of the child. She would surrender her life for the sake of a child who would never even be born. I could not bear it if I were to lose her." Tears were flowing softly down Elrond's cheeks, mirrored by those on Aragorn's face.
"You really thought that I could kill my own grandchild? My own daughters flesh and blood?" Elrond asked, pain tangible behind his words.
"That was why it hurt so much," Aragorn answered, his words soft and barely audible,
"I trusted you completely and it seemed you had destroyed a piece of myself in that child. How could I do anything but hate you? A hate made far worse by the fact that I still loved you."
"I am sorry, Estel," Elrond said, and Aragorn didn't protest the name, "I'm sorry I ever led you to believe as you did."
"I'm sorry I couldn't trust you enough to know you would never act in such a way."
"I acted in ways I am not proud of. I took you into my home and tried to raise you as a son. But in the end, I pushed you aside in favour of my daughter. My actions were born out of love of Arwen, but they were unforgivable towards you."
"But I did forgive them," Aragorn replied, "I forgave you were disowning me, for sending me away, for banning me any contact with Arwen or the twins. I forgave you for everything a long time ago, except for my child. And now you tell me you had no hand in that. I love Arwen. I love her so deeply and completely that I would rather never set eyes on her again, than see her die because of me. I left Rivendell that night without protest because I, like you, want Arwen to live. If she must think that I do not love her, then so be it. I will not cause her death."
Elrond looked at him for a long time, an expression of admiration on his face. Aragorn couldn't guess what was happening in the mind behind those eyes, but the sight of such an expression sent a surge of joy through his heart. The first he had felt in a long time.
"You are wiser than I had guessed," Elrond said at last, "and stronger. I had not realised until this moment just how true your love for Arwen is."
"Thank you."
Neither of them had a chance to say anything more, because, after a knock that was a gesture rather than any true request for permission, a guard opened the door and entered the study. He was rather out of breath, looking as though he had just run a considerable distance. Both Aragorn and Elrond were on their feet, waiting for the guard to explain his presence.
"My lord," he gasped, "you must come. . . a girl. . . attacked."
A girl? That word generally implied a human, and humans rarely came to Imladris. Aragorn's mind jumped to the only conclusion it could. He'd left Eltha alone in the wilds, and now something had happened to her.
He almost knocked the guard over in his haste to get out of the study. He could hear Elrond running behind him, but Aragorn was in more of a position to forget dignity for haste. As he reached the staircase, Aragorn leapt down several steps at a time, and even vaulted the banisters near the bottom instead of running round them.
He paused for a barest moment at the door, looking into the courtyard. He could only glimpse the figure lying on the paved ground, surrounded by a crowd of curious elves, but that glimpse was enough to tell him who it was that lay there. Dark hair was matted with blood, and black arrows were protruding from clothes made in shades of Ranger-brown.
Aragorn shoved his way through the crowd with no respect for those he pushed roughly aside. He was kneeling at Eltha's side, relieved beyond measure to see she was still breathing. All his thoughts had been on coming here, seeing Arwen and the others again. He hadn't even considered that he might be leaving Eltha in danger.
The teenager, almost a child, opened her eyes and looked up into the concerned pair looking down at her. Aragorn glanced over the rest of her body, seeing the two orc arrows, one in her chest and one in her leg, and a deep gash up her sword arm that had clearly been made by a blade, and not a very clean one at that.
"I'm sorry," Eltha managed to say, falling back into her native tongue. Clearly the pain was too much for her to speak in her secondary language of Westron.
"I'm the one who should be sorry," Aragorn answered, using her own language.
"I had to come," Eltha continued, "had to warn. . ." Her voice failed, and she began a painful cough that caused spasms of pain to flow through her body and turned her lips red with her own blood. Aragorn waited until she could speak again. He knew that she would insist on delivering the warning, and he would not be able to persuade her to submit to healing until she did.
"Orcs," Eltha said at last, "So many. . . I couldn't fight. . . Left me for dead."
"It's alright," Aragorn said, "you're safe now. We'll take care of the orcs." She smiled weakly, and then simply lost consciousness. Aragorn was amazed that she had managed to stay awake for so long as it was.
Aragorn stood aside, letting his father in to check her wounds and give orders to the healers. Aragorn relayed the message Eltha had delivered, translating it so that Elrond knew the danger Imladris was in.
"She was almost crawling the last part of the journey," someone said, "how she managed to get this far with thos wounds is beyond me."
"Did she say how many orcs there were?" Elrond asked, standing back to let a pair of healers move Eltha gently onto a stretcher.
Aragorn shook his head. "She only said that there were too many to fight. She seemed to think that Rivendell was in danger from them."
"We'll send out scouts to see where the orcs are, and in what numbers." Elrond gave a couple of brief orders, then headed inside after Eltha. Aragorn felt fear twisting his gut. Eltha was his student, his responsibility. He'd been so caught up in his own, selfish plans that he'd just disregarded her safety. If she were to die from her injuries, it would be as much his fault as if he had dealt them himself.
Legolas and the twins had come out of the house. Aragorn passed them as he made to follow Elrond to the healing wing.
"Eltha?" Legolas asked. Aragorn nodded, but didn't slow to speak to them.
"Who's Eltha?" he heard one of the twins ask.
"Aragorn's student," Legolas answered, "and his friend." Aragorn was so intent on reaching Eltha and doing anything he could to aid Elrond in healing her, that he didn't notice a face staring down intently from one of the windows.
Arwen watched through the haze of tears at Aragorn's distress. He was afraid that this human girl was hurt, though he hadn't cared that Arwen, the one he was betrothed to, had been hurt bitterly by his own actions.
As she stood, the green fire of jealousy burned brightly inside her, feeding the anger that was already growing there.