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Arwen leapt straight into Elladan’s arms; it had been decades since the twins had come to Lorien, and she’d missed her brothers dearly while they’d been in the wilds. Elladan laughed happily as he spun her about, and then tossed her casually to Elrohir.
Elrohir laughed too as he hugged her. “Hello, little sister,” he said.
“Rohir,” she murmured, burying her face in his neck. She felt Elladan step up against her back. “Adan.”
“How are you?” Elladan asked. “Have you seen Estel yet?”
Arwen pulled back to look between their impish grins. “What’ve you done?” she demanded.
Elrohir put his hands up immediately. “Wasn’t us!” he protested.
Elladan grinned. “I’ll take that as a no.” He shrugged. “It can wait. Come swimming with us!”
“Of course!” Arwen said. She’d swum a bit in Lorien, but it wasn’t as fun without others to swim with, and her friends among the Galadhrim were not water-loving folk.
In a matter of minutes, they’d reached the Celebrant, shed their clothes, and changed their skins. The water was coolly refreshing, her brothers were cheerful companions, and they had no concerns except a game of chase.
Eventually, the three of them tired, and Arwen dragged herself up onto Elladan’s chest to rest, safe and warm in the sun. Elrohir told them he was going to find his friends among the Galadhrim, and Elladan chirruped an easy farewell. Arwen just snuggled deeper into her oldest brother’s soft fur.
They floated, napping, for a while, until a voice on the banks woke them. “Adan? Rohir?”
Elladan chirruped.
Arwen slipped from his chest back into the water and trotted up the bank.
The man was clearly a ranger, but clad in elven-style robes, with his hair braided back in the Silvan style for a blooded warrior, and the head of his household. His eyes were clear and bright, and his face was warm and kind.
Arwen felt her heart stutter in her small chest.
“You’re not Rohir,” the man said to her, bowing politely. “Forgive me, Lady Arwen.”
Elladan bounded up beside them, reaching his paws in an immediate demand to be picked up.
Estel, because it had to be Estel, stepped back. “No,” he said warningly. “You’re soaking wet, and Lady Galadriel gave me these clothes for dinner tonight. You’re not ruining them.”
Grandmother dressed him pretty nice, huh? Elladan chirped to her brightly.
Arwen cheeped in quiet dismay. He’s beautiful, she told her brother, alarmed.
Elladan rolled to his back, kicking his paws in amusement.
“Go ahead and laugh,” Estel told Elladan. “I know I look stupid.”
Arwen chittered a quick denial.
Estel looked at her in surprise. “You’re kind, My Lady,” he said, ducking his head bashfully. “I know they don’t suit me.”
Arwen shook her head and bounded forward to push her head against his shin.
Estel knelt and offered a hand, and when she butted up into it he stroked her spine, and then scritched her ears nicely. She chirred in pleasure. “It’s good to see you again,” he said carefully. “I hope you’ve been well?”
“She’s been bored,” Elladan said. He’d changed skins and was throwing on his breeches. “Tell her about Thengel and Theodwyn’s birth while I find out where dinner is going to be?” He picked up his boots and wandered off barely dressed.
Estel looked back down at her. “It’s a silly story,” he warned, but when Arwen chirped agreement, he nodded and launched into the tale.
Arwen changed skins.
Estel’s voice cracked mid word and he swiftly pivoted to look the other way, but he didn’t stop the story, and he didn’t otherwise acknowledge the change. Arwen grinned and pulled her dress back on. Like Elladan, she picked up her shoes, and offered Estel her arm.
He bowed slightly and took it, still carrying the story of the king of Rohan, his young son, and the birth of his daughter, which set the whole kingdom into a tizzy.
By the end of the story, Arwen was leaning on Estel’s arm laughing. His grin was small and shy, but pleased.
“It isn’t much,” he muttered.
“No, please,” Arwen said. “I have relied only on letters from my father relating the movements of my brothers to have any glimpse of the outside world at all. I am fascinated by the people of Rohan and would hear more of them!” She bumped their shoulders together. “Have you been to Gondor as well?”
He nodded. “And further south, even. And some east, though the lands there are far from pleasant.”
“You must tell me!” Arwen insisted. “I want to know everything, and my brothers will not take me with them anymore.”
Estel tilted his head. “Did you hunt with them often?”
“When we were young, in the watchful peace, often indeed, and mostly for food. Once they shifted their concerns to the evil things that walk the world, I rode with them less and less, and after our mother’s departure, our father asked that I not go with them at all.”
Estel nodded. “I have heard the tale; I am sorry for your loss.”
Arwen squeezed his arm. “But I miss seeing more of the world than the path between Imladris and Caras Galadhon.”
“Then I will tell you what I may,” he answered. Carefully, he said, “May I-” he scoffed softly. “You have likely forgotten it, even, but I cannot.”
Curious, Arwen stopped their walk to face him.
His cheeks colored. “May I ask your forgiveness, Lady, for my address to you when last we met? I did not know then, though I understand now, how one’s ancestry might be a burden, and I did you a dishonor, to call you by her name.”
Arwen looked down into his soft, thoughtful eyes, and smiled at him. “It is forgiven,” she insisted, “And you may forget it, if you can.” She huffed a little laugh. “I too have indiscretions in my youth that still haunt my thoughts on the edge of sleep.”
Estel ducked his head slightly, then looked up at her again. “If you say it is forgiven, I will do my best to forgive myself as well. You are kind, Lady, and good.”
Arwen laughed. “And you are brave, to own your mistakes so. Let us put the past behind, for I would have this be how we move forwards.”
Estel nodded. “Your brothers have been telling me tales of you, lady,” he admitted. “And I find much to admire in you.”
“They’ve been sending me stories of your exploits as well, through our father,” Arwen said. “I think they might be meddling, a bit. They’re prone to it.”
“They are,” Estel agreed, laughing. He had a beautiful, rich, playful laugh. “I hope you can forgive them for it eventually.”
This man, Arwen thought delightedly. “If I have a complaint with them it is that they did not tell me of you sooner!” she insisted. “If I had known in Imladris what I know now, perhaps I would not have been so short with you.”
Estel shook his head, cheeks staining pink again. “Nay lady, your reaction was right, for my audacity then.”
Arwen rolled her eyes. “You’ve been talking to my father,” she replied. “He thinks there is no one suitable for me.”
“He is not wrong, to my eyes,” Estel muttered, avoiding her gaze, face crimson.
Arwen huffed. “That was Luthien’s problem as well, a father who would not let her choose. I thought we established I was not to be her.”
Estel bowed, mockingly courtly. “Never, Lady. Forgive the implications.”
Arwen laughed again, and then matched his mocking courtly attitude. “See that it does not happen again,” she intoned in her best imitation of her father at his most lordly.
Estel clearly recognized the impression, for he snorted aloud. It was an inelegant sound, and a joyous one, and Arwen felt her heart catch and stutter.
“Estel,” she said softly.
“Lady,” he replied, his voice just as soft.
Arwen leaned in close to him, bowing her head down towards him slowly. “Arwen,” she said quietly.
His brilliant eyes kindled with the hope of his name. “Arwen,” he breathed.
Arwen had heard the tale of how their father finally got Glorfindel and Erestor together enough times that she supposed she should have been prepared for the hand between her shoulder blades.
Estel, thankfully, steadied her easily as she toppled nearly into his arms.
Elladan cackled. “Now kiss!” he called, already running.
Arwen looked at Estel.
Estel looked back at Arwen.
“Kiss after we kill him?” Arwen offered.
“Perfect,” Estel agreed, and they gave chase.