The journey back to Rivendell was uneventful, but Estel's mind was occupied with thoughts of what Elrohir had told him.

"Surely you are a scion of the Dúnedain, for you are truly as noble and brave as they are!"

The words kept thundering through his mind like the waterfalls at Rivendell. His earliest memory was the kindly face of his liege lord as Elrond picked him up for the first time. Rivendell had been his home all his life. Who was his father, if not Elrond? He felt sick inside, as if he had been walking on a solid floor and it had unexpectedly given way. He was falling, falling, and there was no-one to catch him.

"You are quiet, Estel," said Elrohir as he rode alongside. "You have been thus since we killed those trolls."

"It might have been something you said, Elrohir," said Elladan.

"Aye," said Elrohir, contrition in his voice. "'Twas in the heat of the moment I said it, brother."

"That is ever the way with you, brother," Elladan retorted sternly.

"I always knew your father was not mine," Estel told them. He felt bad enough as it was. The last thing he wanted was to hear the twins bickering all the way home. "But I did think he was my sire."

The words had been said, and could not be taken back. A great gulf separated them now, though they rode close together. After a while, Elladan said, "Estel, our father would not, could not betray our mother. Do you not understand our ways?"

Estel said nothing in return. What his bro... what Elladan had told him was true, after all. Was he asking too much? Finally, he replied, "It never occurred to me to ask until now: am I a bastard?"

"Where did you hear that word, Estel?" asked Elrohir. His glare could have fried an egg. Few could withstand it.

"Among the men of Esgaroth," Estel answered. "They said that of a Man who wanted to wed with a woman of the town, the daughter of one of the merchants. The one who said it told him he would not see his daughter joined with a bastard, whose father was most probably an Orc, for no-one knew who he was."

"That was a grave insult," said Elladan. "What happened next?"

"The Man answered, 'Speak not of my provenance, Egil. How can you see where you are going while you are looking over your shoulder? Those who look backwards cannot go forwards. Surely there is more to a Man than his family tree.'

"And Egil replied, 'I will not speak of your provenance, Tollac, since we know not what it is. As for what you have become, you are a sergeant-at-arms, a mere guard of the town. I would have my daughter kept in the style to which she is accustomed, and you cannot give her that. Though you have some merit, it is not sufficient to permit me to bind my daughter to you. Go your way, for you have aimed too high and cannot hit the mark.'"

"What happened then?" asked Elrohir. "And how came you to witness this dispute?"

"I heard the Man Tollac complain about it as he drank with his fellow men-at-arms in the tavern when I went to get our drinks," replied Estel. "Tollac told him that, since his mother was a maid in the service of the Master of the town, it was likely that the Master had sired him, though he had a wife already and would not own Tollac as his son. Egil said that if the Master would provide a letter of acknowledgement and a suitable bride-piece(1), Tollac would have his will in the matter. If not, there could be no agreement. I do not know what happened after that."

"Since the Master's wife lives yet, I daresay Tollac has not had his will in the matter," said Elladan with a sigh. "'Tis a shame to so mar the life of a child before it is even born, Estel. I hope you will never do such an evil to anyone. You must control yourself, however hot the fire burns within you, lest another Tollac be born swaddled in shame."

"I keep thinking of Tollac's mother," said Estel. "I wonder what happened to her?"

"We know something of the customs of Men," said Elrohir. "I believe it is likely she went home to her parents, bringing her child with her to be reared as her brother.(2) Sometimes, if a woman is barren, she will offer to take such a child and call it hers. This did not happen with Tollac, for he did not name any Man as his father, but said it was likely that the Master was his sire."

"You have not answered my question," said Estel, his tone sullen.

"Your father was Dúnedain, and your mother is his widow, Estel," affirmed Elladan.

"When I heard what transpired between Tollac and Egil, I thought I might be a bastard myself because no-one speaks of my father, and Elrond does not call me his son, except in private," said Estel.

"Then why do you say you always knew he was not your father?" asked Elrohir.

"Because, as you just said, Elrohir, a Man may be a father to a child if not his sire. Elrond your father has been kind to me in every way, but there has always been some distance between us, as if I did not truly belong to him. As if he was borrowing me, and meant to give me back some day." Estel trailed off. His words made little sense, even to him.

Silence sat on them for a while, and they rode along, heedless of the stark beauty of Eriador as they made their way through it. Elladan eventually broke the silence. "You were always loved in Rivendell, and in all the Elven realms," he said, looking directly at Estel.

"I know," said Estel, "and I am grateful, Elladan. I just... I have so many questions..."

"Your father was a great man, a brave warrior who gave his life for his people," said Elladan.

"Then why have I never been told about him?" shouted Estel. "Why was this kept from me? I never really thought about it until recently. I want to know! I have a right to know!"

"Hush, Estel," chided Elrohir. "We will tell you at the right time."

"Why must I wait?" asked Estel. "Why is it such a great secret?"

"Because," said Elladan, "we do not know who is listening. Be quiet, Estel, and we will tell you what you wish to know at the right time."

Elladan's words hit Estel like a punch to the stomach. Who might be listening? What was the need for all the secrecy? Why could they not simply say to him, 'Estel, your father's name is...' The answer to the riddle had better be a good one.

She was waiting, as ever, on the balcony. It was ever Gilraen's custom to stand there, watching for a first glimpse of her son as he returned from the wilds, since he began his warrior training with his foster brothers.

Estel could just about see her from where he was on the road that led into the hidden valley, a tiny speck in the distance. But he knew it was her. Only his mother would stand thus. He needed her right now, though he had no idea what he would say to her. Right now, she was the only constant in his life, unless she had a shock for him as well.

Everything had changed. Oh, he knew in his heart that Elrond had not sired him, but he had clung to the delusion nonetheless because it gave him a sense of belonging. Besides, it had stopped him from asking what his true provenance was for many a year. Now that the delusion had been stripped away, he felt naked and vulnerable. Though he was aware that he had no share in Elrond's family, he liked the idea of being able to claim a connection to the revered Elf-lord, who was rumoured to have divine blood flowing through his veins. Now who could he claim kinship with?

But the mirrors of Rivendell showed plainly that there was indeed a link of some kind. How many times had he stood at a mirror and seen Elladan's, Elrohir's or even Elrond's reflection beside his own. They could have been taken for brothers, and among Men, they often were. What was the answer to this mystery?

"We will soon be home, Estel," said Elladan. "And I did say I would bring a good report of your conduct to our father."

"Thank you, Elladan," said Estel, then went back to brooding.

The young Man had no idea what was in store for him, and wanted to be prepared for anything. Whatever was going to happen, he wanted it to be soon. He did not think he could bear the tension of not knowing for much longer - or the thought of being disappointed by Elrond, who might say it was too soon to tell him.

TBC...