Eldarion slowly released the parchment, hardly realizing he did so. So that answered one of his questions: his father's father had been killed. He looked again at the portrait, this time more closely. The man shown seemed to suddenly be more grave, and years of wisdom hung on his brow. And yet- he was young. The grey eyes that so matched his son's in color, also matched them for mischief.

What would it have been like for his father, to be still a child when his parent passed? In this, Eldarion knew himself to be fortunate: he had had a lifetime, and perhaps, this was a reason his father-this was getting too confusing, he'd start referring to him as Aragorn- perhaps this was a reason Aragorn chose his death. It was a gift, to be able to choose, rather than being felled as a result of evil.

In the midst of his contemplation, a knock sounded on the door. Eldarion started, and blinked…how late had it gotten? The light was dimmer, and less gold; Earendil was risen.

In came his mother, pale and sad. She wore the black gown of mourning, accompanied by a circlet that signified her rank as former Queen. Her eyes were wet, her son observed.

"Mother?" he asked, softly. Of any, his mother grieved the most, for reasons Eldarion didn't quite understand.

She said nothing in response, just shook her head and went to the window. She stood, face blank, before curling herself on the window seat. For the first time, Eldarion saw how slim she was and how singularly alone she must feel.

They sat in silence before Eldarion cleared his throat. "I found letters," he said, feeling remarkably guilty, as if he had snuck a treat from the kitchens (as a child, he was fond of baked apple slices). Again, his mother stayed silent.

"They're from his mother."

At this, his own mother visibly shook. "Let me see them." A command, rather than request or question. Eldarion wondered at the strange response; his mother did not often command, especially since Aragorn's death.

He obeyed, though, cautiously removing himself from the bed (so as not to disturb either letter box or personal effects…what would he do with them?) and crossed to sit also on the seat. The sky was clear, tonight, and Earendil's light was enough to read from. "I've read only a few," he admitted, arranging himself opposite his mother. His mother made an affirming noise and took the ones he held out to her, including the last, telling of Aragorn's father's death.

"I knew him in one way only," she said. "As an adult, burdened by much and resting little." She turned her head, blinking tears away. Eldarion was startled yet again; he thought his parents knew each other well...?

"Not all was well with us, Eldarion. We were each different, raised in different worlds, each a different race…" Here she trailed off, looking down at the letters.

"We disagreed on many things, son. We put forth a united appearance to help strengthen his claim. " Seeing the look on Eldarion's face, she added wryly, "I was not an Elven princess for naught."

"Your father and I- with such different childhoods, we never spoke much of them. I am indeed curious to know his mother. We shared a father, but mothers were foreign between us. When I birthed you, Aragorn was forced to bring forth these very letters-"

"-you knew of them?"

"Yes, and he read them repeatedly, searching for all he could find of child care. Among the letters then was a small book, detailing all of his sicknesses. My father was very scrupulous in caring for Aragorn and all other heirs. I recall it being sent with my brothers-"

Another detail that Eldarion did not remember. Unless…

"Elladan and Elrohir?"

His mother smiled. "The very same."

Eldarion inwardly rejoiced. He had elves for uncles! He wished he had known the relation before. The image of himself calling the stern elves 'uncle' amused him.

"They, too, are grieved for his loss. I know he was close to them." His mother's expression returned to that of sadness. "The book should be in their possession, or somewhere in the King's Library."

"But I myself never read these letters. Aragorn kept them close, and it was one part of himself he never shared. As I never shared my memories of my mother."

Eldarion could barely grasp all that he was hearing. There was a history here, much more complex than he had imagined.

"I thank you for letting me see them. Perhaps- perhaps I could understand."

Understand what? Eldarion was tempted to ask, but seeing the mournful face before him prevented any forthcoming inquiry.

Eldarion watched his mother's hand trace the letters, more of a caress. The whiteness of her complexion seemed to reflect the starlight. He wondered again at the past, before returning to the traces of it in his hand. The next letter was waiting.

Author's Note: So Arwen makes an appearance. I honestly didn't expect her to, but she insisted. And her brothers may yet make their own visible appearances. This chapter is a kind of filler, before I return to my initial storyline.

I hope I have stayed true to Arwen's character; though wise (as all elves) she would have had immense difficulties with being married to Aragorn. She lost her family and her very self by marrying him. Though they would have been happy, there must have been conflict from the transition of Elven identity to that of human identity. It is my idea that they would not have spoken much about their respective mothers; Arwen would have been much grieved, still, as would Aragorn. However, Aragorn had yet the hope of seeing his mother again, while Arwen was permanently estranged. Thus is Aragorn's death even more bitter to her.

Thanks to Blueberry, Macheil, and Elrond Fan for the encouragement! You guys keep me hoping...I apologize for the delay. RL is kind of involving. But there will be another update soon, though whether it's for this or another piece I have yet to determine.

-to be continued-