A week later, Estel was still in his cell, though now he was healed and well rested. He worried more for Arwen and his child more than we worried for himself.
He had not received news on his wife's condition. Perhaps she was dead. The child, well, there seemed to be no way the child had survived.
This terrible possibility loomed over him and drove him to the point of insanity these many long days stuck in a prison cell.
On the seventh day of his imprisonment, he was awoken from a restless sleep by a guard. The elf barked through the grated door, "Estel! Lord Elrond orders your presence!"
A moment of quiet followed as Estel struggled to his feet.
"And I advise you do not attempt to escape as you so foolishly did last time. As you saw before, you will pay the price dearly if you resist," he added.
Estel's body creaked in protest as he got up. His bones had soaked up the chill from the dungeon floor and ached with a restless sleep. He said to the guard, "I stained the floor with your brothers' blood last time I tried to, as you say, foolishly resist." He smiled callously.
"Lord Elrond has quite the punishment for you, my friend Estel," was what the guard replied.
His comeback was ominous.
Estel's steps were slow and staggered as he walked to the Throne Room where Lord Elrond awaited him. Dread filled him all up. At the Throne Room's entrance, the twins were waiting, serious expressions pasted on their faces. Estel instantly fired off questions, "How is she? Is Arwen alive? What of the child?"
Elrohir grimaced, shaking his head.
It struck Estel that neither of the twins were permitted to speak to him. It made Estel feel a little better, because it meant Arwen might still be alive. There was chance.
Estel looked between Elladan and Elrohir's grave expressions as they opened the double doors into the Throne Room.
The Throne Room was outdoors so snow coated everything except Lord Elrond's throne, which he sat at. The trees that surrounded the foundation were bare, the ice crystals sparkling like ornaments on their branches. The freshly fallen snow was left untouched, except for one pair of footprints leading up to the throne. The snow crunched crisply under Estel's feet, disrupting the fatal silence. He was shoved to his knees, arms still behind his back as he was forced to kneel in front of Lord Elrond.
The elven lord sat high and mightily. His eyes seemed darker than the black of night, rage and fury building like a storm in them. His crown looked as if it was made of thorns. His fingers dug into the arms of his throne, a terrible, wrathful expression etched deep into his face. Lord Elrond's gaze never left Estel or even flitted to the guard as Estel was forced to kneel before him.
"Leave us," he commanded.
"Lord Elrond, I know you must be upset with me," Aragorn began cautiously, aware of the dangerous ground he tread.
"Upset? How could I be upset with you? After all you have done, leaving me after my years and years of hospitality I treated you to? When all I wanted for you was your birthright? How could I possibly be upset after you courted my daughter behind my back, even though I forbade you to? After you were wed to her in a shrewd ceremony? After she conceived your child? Tell me, Estel, how could I possibly be upset?"
Anger built up inside of Estel and he blurted out, "Why have you forbade it? What hate fills your heart so that it prevents you from allowing a cheerful daughter? From looking upon your granddaughter without hate in your eyes?" Estel trailed off, "If she is alive. If they are both alive."
Elrond did not flinch, so Estel figured at least Arwen was still alive. A feeling of relief overwhelmed Estel. Something, finally, was going right.
Estel picked up the argument. "It is not fair!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "It is selfish of you to break your daughter's heart so! To tear away all she loves!"
"It is for her own good! She would be better off with some elven noble and her own immortal children, with a long-lasting life and long-lasting love. Imagine the happy life Arwen would have in the long-term," Lord Elrond lectured. "You and the child, on the other hand, will succumb to mortality."
"And what of the child?" Estel shot. "Would you have her grow up a bastard, an illegitimate child, an outsider among her own family? Or would you have me take the infant from her mother and have me visit? If I stay and if she stays, it will be the best, least disgraceful way for Arwen and the child to live."
Estel had left behind the advice Nienna had given him. Humble yourself, she had advised.
Elrond seemed like he wished to say something, although his face set in stone and his lips were pursed as if there was nothing that could pry words from his mouth. He tapped his fingers quickly on the arms of his throne.
In the quiet, the terrible punishment Elrond had in store for him dawned upon Estel. "You do not mean for me or the infant to stay."
Elrond opened his mouth to interject but Estel continued on to cut him off, "You would tear the infant from her mother's breast, even. You would have her grow up without a mother. No such sorrow could possibly lead you to this!"
Estel was horrified at what Lord Elrond said in reply.
The elven lord paused and for a single moment, it looked as if his heart was softening towards Estel and the child. Unfortunately, his next words were fatal. "I, Lord Elrond Halfelven of Rivendell, proclaim Aragorn II, son of Arathorn, and his daughter, banished from Imladris under punishment of death."
Estel looked at the man who raised him with a desperate expression. "You cannot do this!"
Elrond said simply, "I want you out within the next ten minutes."
Estel felt as if the ground would break open and swallow him up. There was no time, no time to do anything. No time to even argue. What can I possibly do? he thought to himself.
"Leave me," Elrond commanded.
Ten.
Estel turned and dashed for the doors. Elladan and Elrohir waited anxiously outside. They immediately knew from the terrified expression on his face that things had gone worse than they expected.
"Wait!" They both exclaimed, Elrohir getting hold of Estel's arm but he had no time to explain so he pulled away.
He had no time to do anything. He sprinted down the hall, the twins not far behind him. Footfalls could be heard slapping on the floor, echoing until they were lost in the winter air.
Nine.
Estel tore into Arwen's chambers. He caught a glimpse of his wife for the first time in a week. She looked like a ghost and her breathing was shallow. Arwen was so tired that she did not stir when Estel entered, making a commotion as he entered. His heart twinged when he saw his wife sleeping, so weak. This is going to break her, he realized. His eyes burned as he looked at Arwen and he pulled his gaze away from her.
Estel yanked off his wedding ring with difficulty and set it gently beside Arwen's head. He set her Evanstar beside her as well.
Eight.
The first time Estel saw his daughter was one of the last times. He hardly even knew how to hold the tiny baby properly. He could hardly even process how this child had come from him and Arwen. The paternal love he instantly felt for his daughter was overwhelming and slightly unnerving, given that there were so many different things flying through his head at the moment.
Seven.
Now, Estel was in the stables, having rushed to get packed. The twins were waiting there, ready to confront him. They were not about to let their brother-in-law run off with their newborn niece without an explanation.
"Where are you going? You cannot leave over something Father said, I do not care how offensive it was! You cannot leave your wife and you definitely cannot take her child from her!" Elrohir exclaimed as Estel saddled his horse with one hand, clutching his sleeping child to his chest.
"You cannot run away like you did last time!" Elladan exclaimed bluntly.
Estel turned, fury and despair a storm in his eyes, pinning Elladan against the wall. "I would never leave her! I would never break her heart a second time and force her through it all! I love her! For you to suggest something else is unforgiveable."
Estel had not the heart to speak more.
Six.
He mounted.
"Estel," Elrohir murmured and Estel turned his head.
"Yes?"
"The child, she is named Lessien. Arwen wished it to be so."
All Estel could do was nod, doing his best to hold Lessien to his chest as he guided the steed out of the stable.
Five.
"Lessien, it is a strong name. She would be called Laraliea among my people," he muttered to himself, glancing down at the infant.
Lessien was awake. She had his own grey eyes.
Four.
Elrond asked into his mind, from a distance, "What is the child's name?"
Three.
Estel wiped at his dangerously moist eyes and did not reply. Elrond did not deserve know Lessien's name. He deserved to stay trapped where there was no future, here in his precious Imladris.
Two.
"I will take care of her, you know," Elrond assured Estel, referring to Arwen.
Estel still did not reply, poisonous, rancid fury building in his throat. He only kissed the top of his daughter's head as she started fussing.
One.
It began to snow as Estel passed out of Rivendell's boundaries.
Zero.
Estel was no longer Estel, foster child of Lord Elrond Halfelven. He was Strider, a Ranger of the North. Lessien was a nameless child, with many names and, yet, no name at all.
The snow was merciless.
Strider clutched the babe to his chest.
He rode to the Angle, where his people resided, with one purpose, to protect his daughter.