Advice Unlooked For
-o0o-
Aragorn had chosen the path across the sun-bathed decks that hugged the sides of the gray houses of Imladris on his way to tonight's feast. Beyond the rail of the balustrade the valley was beautiful. Autumn had painted the leaves of the trees beside the Bruinen in brilliant hues of orange and yellow and a few patches of deep scarlet. The wind fell warm down the slopes of the Misty Mountains, warmed by the golden rays of the evening sun. It tousled his hair, bringing further disarray to the natural unruliness of his curls. He breathed deeply and slowed down. It was not often that he had the luxury to enjoy such peace as was found in the heart of the Hidden Valley - and he still had time.
Frodo had finally awoken this afternoon and the feast in the ring bearer's honor that Erestor had planned for the last three days was at hand. It would be a joyous affair, he was sure - and a long one. And so he stopped, closed his eyes, and turned his face up to the last rays of the sun; Snatching a moment of tranquility before joining the rest of the guests for an evening of merrimaking. A smile sprang to his lips as he amended his thoughts - an evening of merrimaking with Arwen at his side. The thought brought fresh motivation and he opened his eyes to hurry the last distance to the feast hall, only to be arrested by what he saw in the courtyard: A pair of gray stallions, their flanks still heaving and marred by sweat, were being led away from the house and towards the stables. Aragorn halted.
He would have recognized those stallions anywhere - his brothers' horses. Elladan and Elrohir had returned.
And they had left the courtyard in a hurry, clearly barely stopping to hand Talagor and Belroch off to a trusted stablehand. Worry woke in Aragorn's heart and turned his steps around, leading him away from his chosen path and towards the Halls of Healing instead. Whatever had brought his brothers home with such haste could hardly be good. Last he had heard they had been on errantry in Cardolan, following rumors of wraiths in the South Downs. But that report had been months old, and he had gone long without new information from either Rivendell or the rangers. Yet certainly their presence here was linked to Frodo's quest, and the stirrings of the dark forces in response to it. Had they encountered the wraiths? If so, when? And how badly were they injured?
Almost unconsciously, his feet took him towards the Halls of Healing as his mind conjured possible scenarios of danger and despair. He rounded the last corner in haste and almost collided with Erestor - though the slightly raised eyebrow and entirely unruffled appearance of his father's chief advisor suggested that Erestor had been well aware of his approach. That impression was confirmed by Erestor's actions. Without greeting or ere Aragorn could even open his mouth to speak, Erestor thrust the tray he had been carrying - a wooden plate holding two small flasks of miruvor and a bowl of fresh athelas leaves, into his hands.
"They are in their quarters," Erestor informed him shortly, guessing at Aragorn's reasons for being so close to the Halls of Healing. "They asked for you, but I told them that both you and Glorfindel would attend the feast. Although it seems," he said, mustering Aragorn critically from the top of his windswept hair to the bottom of his worn, comfortable boots, "that in your case, I was mistaken. But even in your absence, I need to be overseeing the festivities. If you could be so good as to take these to Elladan and Elrohir, you would, I think, serve us all."
Aragorn barely had the time to acknowledge the information, or steady the tray in his hands before Erestor breezed past him, robes billowing. It seemed that in this at least Erestor was correct: he would not be going to the feast after all.
Aragorn's steps were slower on the way to his brothers' quarters. Erestor's words, however hurried, had put some of his fears to rest - and he had to balance the tray of miruvor in his hands. Still, it was not long before he reached the family wing of the Last Homely House. Elladan opened the door before he even had to knock and took the tray from him, which seemed to be the sign for Elrohir to swipe him up into an embrace.
"Estel! Erestor told us you would be at the feast." The younger of the twins released Aragorn from the embrace and held him at arm's length, mustering the ranger critically before continuing: "But it seems that he was mistaken."
The words barely registered with Aragorn who had been busy mustering the twins in turn. There was no difficulty in determining why Erestor had been bringing them miruvor - they looked exhausted and weary. Elrohir especially was pale and there was an edge of white linen showing from beneath Elladan's shirt, wrapping around his torso. But whatever injury it hid, the older of the twins moved with his normal grace. Their travel stained coats and cuirasses were discarded next to the table - not yet cleaned and put away. And the signs of long, hard travel were still visible on their faces and in their disheveled hair.
Aragorn's examination was interrupted when Elladan spoke: "We bring word from Halbarad."
Aragorn fixed his attention on Elladan immediately, things finally falling into place. Word from Halbarad, his brothers' errant to Cardolan, their arrival here now, the need for miruvor and athelas. "You were at Sarn Ford."
"For all the good that it did," Elladan confirmed, a hint of bitterness swinging in his words.
"Tell me."
And they did. Stopping only to drink the miruvor they told him how one of Radagast's birds had found them in the South Downs and told them of the Black Riders approaching the Shire, how they had arrived at the ford only hours ahead of the Nazgûl
"We barred the ford against them," Elrohir said, "and despite the odds we drove them off."
"But that was with the daylight on our side," Elladan said darkly. "They returned with the sunset, replenished by the darkness or some foul magic or both, while we were still recovering from their earlier attack. We lost Amathan and Pigenor then, and though we tried to hold them back, the Nazgûl broke through. Four of them disappeared into the South Farthing 'ere we could stop them."
"And we should be glad that they did, for with all Nine behind us we might not have escaped." The twins exchanged a dark glance, filled with the heavy truth of prophecy and Aragorn almost shuddered.
Elladan continued the report, telling of their flight across country, pursued and harried by five of the Nazgûl, including their foul captain until at last they made it Amon Harad, the unmanned ranger outpost in the South Downs. There they had weathered the attack of the Nazgûl for two days until the Witch King unexpectedly took his men north.
"To Bree," Aragorn mused and Elladan nodded.
"So it would seem from the limited account that Erestor had the time to give."
"Once we were sure that the danger had passed, we made for the safety of the Angle, returning the injured to their homes. But four days past, the Bruinen was in a sudden uproar and near sprang its banks. A tattered black cloak was carried on its waves and to the shore near the edges of the ranger camp. With it passed a cloud of terrible dread that darkened the hearts of all."
"A dark fear fell on us then and we made for Imladris with all the haste that we could still muster, but it appears that between father and Glorfindel, the threat has been averted." Elladan's voice shifted, taking on a lighter tone: "And now we have arrived just in time to miss the "biggest feast Erestor had had to arrange in two and a half yen"."
Aragorn laughed dutifully at the obvious quote from the estimable advisor, recognizing the attempt of his oldest brother to lighten the mood. The truth was, timely arrival or no, neither of the twins were in a shape to attend the evening's merrimaking. Nothing more than perhaps a bath awaited them before they would collapse into their beds, Aragorn guessed. It was time for him to let them retire - and besides, Arwen was still waiting.
"Ah," he said lightly, "that is poor luck indeed. I for one shall enjoy the music and the warmth in the Hall of Fire."
Elladan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You are attending the feast?"
And before Aragorn could reply, Elrohir added as if uncertain: "The same feast Arwen is attending?"
"I am not aware of any additional feasts being arranged this evening."
Elrohir shook his head slowly. "Our dear sister would not even deign to embrace her long absent brothers for fear of ruining her silver raiment."
Before Aragorn could ask how this pertained to him, Elladan stood up decisively. "If you are attending the feast then you are not wearing that." He took Aragorn by his shoulders and resolutely steered him towards the twin's own wardrobe, just as Aragorn started to connect the looks Erestor and the twins had each given him earlier - the brief muster that had apparently assured all three of them that he had no intention of attending tonight's festivities.
He looked down at his comfortable, black shirt and breeches. Worn smooth and soft during long years of faithful service in the wild. They were only patched in a few places, and even that with extraordinary craftsmanship. Still, he had seen Erestor's maroon robes with their gold embroidery, and he knew which of Arwen's raiments would need protection from even an embrace by her beloved brothers. With a sigh he submitted himself to his fate. "Which color do you think?"
His brothers replied in perfect unison. "Green."
-o0o-
Aragorn tugged at the edge of his dark green cloak, drawing it closed over the conspicuous silver sparkle of his brother's mail shirt that he wore underneath. It wasn't so much that the clothes were uncomfortable, but that they made him feel uncomfortably exposed. He was used to hiding in the shadows and the wild, to go unnoticed even in bustling inns and villages. The rangers held a secret watch in the North, and their comings and goings were unmarked by the eyes of ordinary men.
The hobbits, Bilbo and Frodo, did not even notice his presence, so changed was he. Aragorn shook his head and fought the urge to fidget with his cloak once more. But then his eyes caught Arwen's from across the room, where she stood beside her father. And when he beheld the smile that brightened her face and the glow that came into her eyes, his discomfort fled.
Perhaps, just this once, his brothers had been right.
The End
-o0o-
Based on these lines from the books:
"[Bilbo and Frodo] were so deep in the doings of the Four Farthings that they did not notice the arrival of a man clad in dark green cloth. Suddenly Bilbo looked up. 'Ah, there you are at last, Dunadan!' he cried. 'Strider!' said Frodo. 'You seem to have a lot of names.' […]
[Bilbo] turned to Strider. 'Where have you been, my friend?' Why weren't you at the feast? The Lady Arwen was there.' Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely. 'I know,' he said. 'But often I must put mirth aside. Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild unlooked-for, and they had tidings I wished to hear at once.'
[…]
"Frodo halted for a moment, looking back. Elrond was in his chair and the fire was on his face like summer light upon the trees. Near him sat the Lady Arwen. To his surprise Frodo saw that Aragorn stood beside her; his dark cloak was thrown back, and he seemed to be clad in elven mail, and a star shone on his breast. They spoke together [...]"
- The Fellowship of the Ring, Many Meetings
A/N: It is my firm belief that Aragorn needs a bit of help when it comes to dressing up (especially for Arwen). Exhibit A: When Aragorn enters Lothlorien before his betrothal to Arwen,
"Galadriel bade him cast aside his wayworn raiment, and she clothed him in silver and white, with a cloak of elven-grey and a bright gem on his brow. Then more than any king of Men he appeared, and seemed rather an Elf-lord from the Isles of the West. And thus it was that Arwen first beheld him again after their long parting [...]" - Appendix A, the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen
And when left to his own devices he seems to change right back, as we see in Exhibit B: the Council of Elrond
"in a corner alone Strider was sitting, clad in his old travel-worn clothes again." (the very next day after the feast).
At least he seems to be aware of the effect of his appearance - and making a conscious choice for comfort and secrecy over flamboyance:
"[...] he turned to Boromir again. 'For my part I forgive your doubt,' he said. 'Little do I resemble the figures of Elendil and Isildur as they stand carven in their majesty in the halls of Denethor.'"
Elladan and Elrohir on the other hand are marked for their handsome appearance:
"[...] said Legolas: 'And have you marked the brethren Elladan and Elrohir? Less sombre is their gear than the others', and they are fair and gallant as Elven-lords; and that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell.'" - The Return of the King, The Passing of the Grey Company
I'm sure the twins would always be available to give Aragorn some (unsolicited) fashion advice - after all, what are big brothers for? :D