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“My lady, Her Majesty, queen of Gondor.” A tallish man clothed in the armor of Gondor bowed to Arwen, who was wrapped in a thick purple cloak with a collar of soft black fur to keep out the cold. She was huddled on her throne in what proved to be a frigid throne room, snow coming down in thick blankets outside. It had been blizzarding for days, and Aragorn was killing himself trying to keep the snow from collapsing roofs and trapping people in their homes. He had half the guard diverted just to manage the snow. Arwen had taken over the remaining half.
“Sir,” Arwen nodded. “State your name and your claim.”
“Boromell, son of Borowen, your majesty. Two Elves were detained an hour or so ago at the gates of the city.”
“From Rivendell, Lothlorien or Greenwood?”
“They professed themselves to be Rangers, your majesty. But that is not all. They also claimed to know you personally, indeed, they professed themselves to be your brethren.”
“My brethren?” Arwen drew a breath. “I have two brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond and princes of Rivendell. I thought they were still there.” She shook her head. “Bring them to me. If they are my brothers, I will know them by sight. Make haste! It is terrible out there, and the journey into this city is gruelling enough outside of blizzard conditions. Do you know where Aragorn the King Elessar is? They will need his healing touch.”
“Last I saw him, he was at the scene of a collapsed orphan’s keep outside of the city walls. I looked out from the guard-tower and saw him managing the rescue and helping heal the injured. I can send someone to get him, if you will.”
“Do not do that if it would cost any lives,” Arwen warned.
“I will not, my lady.”
“Good. Go forth. Do good, my child.”
Boromell blushed beneath his helm. “I will, your majesty.”
An hour later, Boromell entered and bowed again. “They are here, my lady, and my king as well.”
Arwen climbed off her throne, her cloak billowing behind her. “Take me to them. Immediately. Do not delay.”
“Yes, your majesty!” He beckoned her into the falling snow, where a small wagon awaited. Aragorn stood in front, looking every bit the king he was despite the exhaustion written on his face.
She put her hands on his shoulders. “You look like you have been driven and whipped over a hundred miles of mountain-range.”
“I am tired,” he admitted. “It is…” He swallowed. “It is hard to hold the children of your land in your arms and know that if you had been a better King they would not be injured. This has been a cruel winter. Next year, I will put out a decree in September for all roofs to be strengthened before the arrival of the snow.” He shook his head. “But that is over now. The guards have it under control, and the injured have all been taken to the Houses of Healing. Now, what is the matter here? I was brought here, but the guards never told me what I was here for.”
And he still came. I really did marry the right man. “They may have detained my brothers at the city gates.”
Aragorn pursed his lips. “Easier than the last problem, at least. Where are they now?”
“In the wagon, your majesty,” Boromell replied.
The royal couple swept through the snow, already accumulating on the patio despite the repeated sweeping and shoveling attempts of the cleaning-staff. Arwen poked her head in first. Her heart twisted and she let out a cry.
Elladan and Elrohir were curled up together in the wagon, looking two steps from Mandos’s doors, shivering badly in ragged cloaks and boots. Their eyes didn’t fully focus on her.
“Bring them in now!” she cried.
Aragorn cleared his throat. “Take them to the drawing room and set them before the big fire. Wrap them in blankets and begin preparing warm baths for them, as well as cups of tea. The quicker we get them warm, the better.”
Boromell bowed. “I am but one man, your majesties, but I shall try.”
“I will fetch servants!” Arwen ran inside, faster than Aragorn had ever seen her move. She was back in a split second with three of their larger men. “Here, I have found help. Five more servants are getting a room prepared. For carrying, two and two should do--elves are light. Get them inside before I banish all of you!”
“Yes, your majesty!” Boromell bowed. They quickly pulled Elladan and Elrohir out of the wagon, holding them up and helping them inside. Aragorn led them to the drawing room, empty of people but with a fire burning bright in a large fireplace. “Sit them down here.” He indicated to a plush carpet in front of the fireplace. “Bolster them with pillows and wrap them in blankets. I will remove their boots.”
The servants did so. Quiet sighs of relief echoed from Elladan and Elrohir as they were positioned near the warmth of the fire. Arwen bit her lip, a terrible sorrow writ across her brow.
Aragorn knelt by Elladan and pulled his boots from his feet, then his socks, which were soaking. His feet were far too pale. “My brother,” he murmured. “What happened to you?”
Elladan half-focused his eyes on him. “... Caught in a blizzard,” he murmured. “Fifty miles from here. Seven days of travel… in blizzard conditions… our last remaining horse died on day three. Poor thing was too tired, cold and sick. We went the rest of the way on foot. Crawled into Minas Tirith, only to be detained.” He turned to Arwen, who had sort of slipped behind and between them. “The hospitality of your hall is a bit lessened as of late, dear sister.”
“‘Twas not my fault! My guards did not tell me they had detained you until after they had done the deed!” Arwen looked like she was about to cry.
Aragorn pulled Elrohir’s boots and socks off, adjusting his feet so they were near the warmth of the fire. His big toe was cold and hard and almost bluish. “Elrohir, what happened to your toe?”
“Crack in my boots. Happened yesterday. Hurts, but not that much, I can’t feel it, really.”
Aragorn lifted his head, looking at Boromell and the three other servants. “Boromell, go back to your duty at the walls. Thank you so much for your service today. Keep up the good work.”
Boromell bowed and swept from the room.
“As for you, Kinnon,” he gestured to one of the servants, one with blond hair curling around his ears, “go to the kitchen and heat me up some water. Bring it to me with a cloth. Make haste! The rest of you are dismissed. Goodbye!”
The three servants scattered. Aragorn put his hand around the frostbit toe. Elrohir looked at him quizzically.
“To keep it warm until they arrive with the hot water,” Aragorn explained.
Arwen swallowed. “Why did you even come? ‘Tis too far, at the beginning of winter.”
“We were only a few days away, or so we thought,” sighed Elladan. “We were routing Uruk-Hai in the area and thought we would pop in for a surprise visit.”
Aragorn raised an eyebrow. “What about Rivendell?”
“Erestor and Glorfindel have it under control. They do better than we do, anyway--Arwen was always the diplomat.” Elladan smiled kindly at Arwen, putting his arm around her.
“I hate you two,” Arwen sniffled, putting her arms around both of them, burying her face against Elrohir. She lifted her head. “You smell awful.”
“‘Tis true.” chuckled Elrohir, “but Elladan smells more foul.”
Elladan put his hand on his heart. “I do not!”
“You smell like an Orc.”
“I know you do,” said Elladan, “but what do I smell like?”
“I am having baths drawn for you both, so neither of you will soon smell like Orc,” Aragorn cut in.
Before the twins of Elrond could put words to grateful smiles, Kinnon came running back with a bucket of water and a cloth, as well as two cups of tea. “Here, your majesty.”
“That was quick.”
“I borrowed some of the water they were heating for the baths--I hope that is okay.” He handed the tea to Elladan and Elrohir, who drank it gratefully.
“‘Tis fine.” He took the bucket from Kinnon’s rough hands, wetting the cloth and wringing it gently. He wrapped it around Elrohir’s frostbitten toe. Elrohir gasped, sloshing the tea down the front of his already torn and soiled leathers.
“I know. It hurts.”
“It feels like I put my foot in a cookstove, Estel!”
Arwen gently stroked Elrohir’s matted hair. “Breathe through the pain.”
Elrohir took a deep breath.
Aragorn watched as Elrohir’s toe pinkened from the warmth. “Good. It is healing well. You two are strong, even stronger than an average Elf.”
Elladan grinned. “‘Tis what we do. Juggernauts are we, my brother.”
Arwen laughed.
Kinnon, who no one had noticed had slipped away, returned. “Bathwater is ready.”
“Thank you,” Aragorn nodded. He turned to Elladan and Elrohir. “Come. I will take you to your room. Elrohir, can you stand?”
“Hardly, but I believe I will survive.” Elrohir forced a brave smile.
They stood up, Elrohir limping slightly on his still-painful toe. They limped from the drawing room, down a back corridor, up a flight of stairs to another smallish hallway, until they finally reached a small room with one very large bed, two trunks, two nightstands, a fireplace and another small, adjacent room with two large tubs of water in them. The tubs had a thin curtain between them. Neatly folded clothes sat on stools beside the tubs. Steam rose off the silvery surface of the water, and Elladan and Elrohir looked at it with hungry, wanting eyes.
“... You do not need me to help you undress, do you?” asked Arwen.
“We would not make you help us with that even if we did,” responded Elrohir. “I can undress myself.”
Arwen nodded. “... Okay. I will see you in a moment.” She pulled Aragorn from the room, leaving Elladan and Elrohir alone, and collapsed against Aragorn’s chest with a sob as soon as they got to the hallway.
Aragorn quickly put his arms around her. “Oh. Oh, Valar. What happened? What is wrong?”
“They… oh, gods, they hurt themselves for me! Why would they…?”
“You did a noble thing for them, just by being here,” Aragorn murmured into Arwen’s sleek hair. She smelled like cinnamon and maple, sweet and spicy. “Without you, without us, providing this sanctuary, they would still be wandering the wilderness. If anything, you did well.” He gently pulled her into a kiss, his rough lips and stubbled jaw moving against her soft ones. “Do not cry. You do not deserve to hurt in that way, my love.”
They separated. Aragorn rested his head on top of hers, tucking her snugly under his chin. His chest was warm and comfortable, he smelled of cold winter air and soot. He played with her hair as they embraced, twirling it around his finger. The hallway was cold, but neither of them could feel it.
It was a while before either of them let go.
He pulled away first. “I cannot stay.”
“Really? You are leaving now?”
“I am so, so sorry, but yes.”
Arwen stood on her tiptoes, pressing another kiss against his stubbled jawline. “Please stay…”
He pushed her off, not roughly. “No, I cannot. To be a king is to put the needs of people and country above your own. I am a King and a healer first, then a lover. I will see you tonight, that I can promise, maybe even sooner. But for now, I have to go. I am sorry, I really am, but I have no choice. I belong to the world, I cannot belong to you and you alone. I am of something more than one elleth.” He kissed her again. “Even if that elleth is the loveliest one borne to a mother of Middle-Earth. Mind the throne in my absence. I love you, okay?”
“I will mind the throne,” Arwen said flatly. She turned and stalked off in the general direction of the throne room.
Aragorn sighed. “I shall beg her forgiveness later, I suppose.” He shook his head and left to aid his people.
Elladan and Elrohir stripped off their dirty, foul travelling-clothes like they were the plague, leaving them in a heap on the floor. They slipped into the hot water, soft sighs of relief escaping both of them. Elladan stared up at the ceiling as the water engulfed him, not wanting to see the dirt that would surely come out of his every nook and cranny once water reached them for the first time in a solid two months. He traced patterns in the wood, giggling as he noticed that one plank had a pattern that looked like a naked woman.
“... I had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm.”
Elladan jolted a little as Elrohir’s voice came through the privacy curtain. “... Me too, brother.”
“No, I mean… really warm. Surrounded by warmth.” Elrohir’s voice broke. “... I had forgotten what that was like.” He hiccuped a little. “I… I am so sorry.”
Elladan was silent. He listened to Elrohir weep from behind the curtain, blinking back his own tears as he numbly lay down in the water, feeling the heat sink into him, warming his aching bones. Pain he had no idea lived inside him leached out as he melted, tense bands of corded muscle releasing their hold. He realized then what Elrohir was talking about regarding being warm, truly warm, warm in your bones. A few tears slipped down his cheeks and merged with the water he lay in.
He had not remembered falling asleep when he felt someone shaking him. He groaned. The water was barely warm.
He opened his eyes, crossing his legs to hide his nakedness when he saw his twin looking back at him. Elrohir had dressed in a soft gray woolen bathrobe, his dark hair, still wet, was tied back with a black ribbon. “Wake up, ‘Dan.”
Elladan stretched. “... Sorry. I just… after everything… I was so tired.”
“Wash yourself and get out of the tub. We can sleep on the bed after.” Elrohir stood up, walking for the door.
“... That sounds great,” Elladan sighed, sitting up, reaching for the soap. He scrubbed himself off, watching the water turn an opaque gray. Once he was as clean as he thought he would get himself, he stepped from the tub, toweling himself gently, squeezing the water from his hair, long and dark, to match his brother. His skin felt good, light and pure in a way it had not in months. He took a moment to enjoy the feeling of being nude and clean, no dirt, no ragged travelling clothes adhering to his skin by his own oils, while he combed out his hair. He tied it back before pulling a robe around himself, the same soft knit as Elrohir’s. It had been so long since something soft and plush had touched him. He took a breath to keep from crying and left the small room for the bedroom. Elrohir was on the bed, buried under a solid foot or two of blankets, with a roaring fire in the fireplace providing warmth for the room.
“You did well with that fire,” Elladan said.
“I was always better at it,” Elrohir said, his voice barely audible from under the blankets.
Elladan slipped into the bed next to Elrohir. “I am cold.”
“Damn you, letting the cold air in! All you do is betray me while I lay sick and festering, freezing to my poor little bones! You wound me, Elladan, and here I thought you were my beloved little twin!”
Elladan curled up close to Elrohir, so close they shared breath. “Okay, one, little twin? The last I checked, I was a full hour older than you. Two, how dare you accuse me of freezing you when you are under ten blankets and I am under none? You sicken me, Elrohir, beloved little twin!”
Elrohir buried his face in the plush velvet pillow. “‘M older than you, brat.”
“Incorrect.”
There was a long pause. “... I wish Nana was here. We could have asked her.”
Elladan snuggled Elrohir against his chest. “... I miss her, too.”
“... Someday, will we go to Valinor? Will we see her again?”
Elladan was silent. “... Maybe. Once… once Arwen and Aragorn have crossed the gray curtain. I am sorry, Elrohir, but we can have Arwen or Ada and Nana but not both, not at this point.”
“... Cruel,” murmured Elrohir.
“So cruel,” Elladan agreed.
They fell silent. No more words were exchanged. It was enough to be under the blankets. It was enough to have each other. They could wash clothes and exchange pleasantries and spend time with Arwen and eat real, warm food later. For now, it was enough to just be warm.