Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings ain't mine. I don't think there's really any other way to say it. Oh, except for Aravadhor. He's mine, and no taking him unless I tell you that you can... No profit was made from the writing of this, except pleasure and a couple of "Aww's."

Rating/Warnings: Teen. Rated Teen for Ideas/Concepts, mild Violence (only referenced), and slightly Disturbing Images

Important Note: This is a sequel to my story "Poisoned Star." If you have not yet read through at least Chapter 5: No Greater Love, then you may wish to go and read that first. I mean, you can read this without first having read Poisoned Star, however the plot story will make much more sense if you have. Warning for Poisoned Star however: it is rated a high Teen for very graphic violence, particularly Chapters 5 (to which this tale is tagged) and Chapter 7.

There will be one or two spoilers for Poisoned Star. Mainly, you find out one character that survives (other than Elrond, of course). However I've already spoiled that in something else I've already posted, so I decided it would be fine.

Time frame: TA (Third Age) 252. Arwen is 11 years old, which in elven standards is still extremely young. Think 5ish years old in human terms. The Twins are 122 years old. This is approximately 2,386 years after Poisoned Star begins.

Characters: Elrond, Arwen, Celeborn, Celebrian, Elladan, Elrohir, with a very brief appearance by Aravadhor

A/N: 1) This was extremely fun to write. 2) Elfling Arwen is freaking adorable. 3) This was my first time ever writing Arwen and it was a blast. 4) The story that Elladan tells is actually loosely based off of an actual legend, however I don't remember what it's called. 5) I really seem to enjoy giving Elrond angst. 6) Celeborn's badger story is in reference to the first chapter in Crookneck's fic Twelve Tunics, which is awesome by the way, so go read it. 7) Please review? :) 8) I hope you enjoy!

Translations:

Ada/Adar: Daddy (Dad)/Father

Nana/Naneth: Mommy (Mom)/Mother

Daerada/Daeradar: Grandpa/Grandfather

Iel: Daughter

Iel nîn: My daughter

Undómiel: Evenstar

~*And So Night Fades to the Light of an Evening Star*~

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams to mortal ever dared to dream before. ~Edgar Allen Poe

In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing. ~Robert Green Ingersoll

Spring clung tightly to the hidden valley of Imladris. The warm night filled the land, weaving both peace and the exultant joy of new life through the clear air. The stars hung gleaming in the velvety night sky like a thousand crystal diamonds, and the moon hung thick and swollen near to the horizon. New leaves just beginning to unfurl on barren branches were gilded with silver, and the grass gleamed like glass. The heady scent of blossoms just beginning to open was mixed with the rich taste of earth freshly turned, and as the light breeze laughed about the hidden haven, it brought with it the crisp sensation of freshly melted snow.

The Main House was bright, and both laughter and song flowed freely. The delectable scent of freshly baked foods wafted through the air even after the welcoming feast had been cleared away, carrying on the breeze that had been coaxed into the large house with open windows and doorways. Indeed, all were joyous and merry, for their lord's sons had returned home that afternoon, and with them had come their grandfather, Lord Celeborn.

The Hall of Fire was ablaze with light, the great hearth at the center of the hall burning brightly. Torches too had been brought in and placed in brackets that lined the pillars, banishing all shadows, even from the furthest corners. Such was the delight of the elves that night.

At the head of the hall, pushed into a corner to afford some measure of privacy, was a small semicircle of couches and deep armchairs, perfect for curling up in. The half circle faced outward so that those who sat there could watch the hall if they so desired, and at the center sat a low table. It was not the only such arrangement of couches throughout the hall, yet this night it was the only one that was occupied. Of the many elves in the Hall of Fire that night, none even thought to approach to converse with any of those sitting there.

Elrond lounged on one of the couches, long legs stretched out beneath the table and all need for dignity and decorum long forgotten. Even so, the elven lord still seemed to carry with him an air of nobility that even a newcomer would have been hard put to mistake him for anyone but the lord of the house.

Beside him, her own much shorter legs stretching out across the length of the couch, sat Celebrían, her head resting against her husband's shoulder. Elrond's arm was wrapped about her, holding her close, and one of Celebrían's arms was draped lazily over his leg.

Celeborn, who was sitting comfortably in the armchair beside the couch, had a rather amused expression on his face, and every time he would look at the two of them, his eyes would gleam. It was quite apparent that he found their positions at least slightly amusing, yet neither seemed to have noticed.

Celeborn was in the midst of telling his daughter and son-in-law an amusing story concerning their sons and a rather disgruntled badger – to which Elrond was shaking his head slightly, all the while enjoying the irony of the situation, as he himself had had a very similar experience in his youth – when a high-pitched squeal split the air. Both Elrond and Celebrían shot up, looking toward the amiable throng standing close to the fire as they danced and exchanged songs. An instant later a small figure appeared dodging around Aravadhor's legs, raven tresses flying. The small elf-child lit out for the couches where Elrond, Celebrían, and Celeborn were sitting, feet flying and giggling all the while.

Aravadhor turned quickly, looking down to see who it was that had nearly tripped over his feet, and thus did not see as someone else hurtled toward him. "Sorry Aravadhor," the other said as he grabbed the Captain's shoulders, steadying him, and with that he was moving on, chasing after the running child.

"Gotcha!" A much larger figure appeared suddenly beside her, grabbing her and sweeping her up into his arms. The girl shrieked again, and then began to giggle as her captor tickled her mercilessly.

"Stop it Elladan!" Arwen protested, trying to push away her brother's fingers. Elladan laughed, rather trollishly it may be noted, but barely more than a second later he was obeying his sister's command.

Elrohir approached, now at a much slower rate than before, a wide grin splitting his face as he neared his brother and little sister. He made a face at Arwen, who giggled and stuck out her tongue. She quickly pulled it back in, glancing hurriedly over to her mother and father. Elrond raised an eyebrow, and Arwen ducked her head guiltily, before latching her arms around Elladan's neck. Elrohir and Elladan shared a look, and then started toward their parents and grandfather.

Unheard by either the twins or Arwen, Celeborn chuckled. He glanced over at Celebrían, who was now sitting erect beside her husband, and said, "I remember you doing much the same thing Iel, and if I recall correctly, it was to Gil-galad."

Elrond laughed lightly and Celebrían opened her mouth, mortified, but then closed it with a snap.

"I do remember that, actually," Celebrían said finally. "He had been teasing me about my dress. Not," Celebrían added as her children neared, "That that is a story that you should be sharing with your grandchildren."

Elladan and Elrohir neared, and Elladan unhooked Arwen's hands from about his neck and set her down on the floor. She looked up at her father, an expression of supreme seriousness on her face, and then walked over to him, stopping just before she was touching his leg.

"I am sorry I stuck my tongue out at Elrohir, Ada," she said, "I know I'm not supposed to." Elrond could feel both Celebrían and Celeborn's eyes on him as he looked down at his daughter.

"It is not to me that you should be apologizing," Elrond told Arwen. He glanced up at Elrohir, who was standing behind her.

Arwen spun and threw her arms around her brother's legs. "I'm sorry I stuck my tongue out at you Elrohir," she said, her voice muffled by the cloth of his pants.

"I forgive you Arwen," Elrohir replied instantly, and then glanced at his father. Elrond nodded slightly, the faintest of grins tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Elrohir stooped down and lifted his sister into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"And now, tithen seler, would you like to hear a story?" Elrohir asked. Arwen nodded emphatically, her hair dancing over her shoulders. "Is that all right with you, Adar?" Elrohir added, looking to both his mother and father. Both nodded, and Elrohir sat on the remaining open couch, settling his sister on his lap.

"What sort of story would you like to hear?" Elladan asked, joining them on the couch and looking to Arwen.

The little girl pondered for a moment, her brow drawing down into a firm frown as she thought. "A scary story," she announced finally, and then settled deeper into her brother's lap and looked up at him adoringly.

"I'm not so sure…" Elrohir began, but then Elladan cut him off.

"I know a good scary story. Do not worry Naneth," Elladan added quickly, "It is no worse than any of the historic tales of the Orcs that are sung in the lays. It will be safe for Arwen to hear." Celebrían gave her eldest son a piercing look, but then sighed and leaned back. Elrond wrapped his arm around her shoulders once more.

"Long ago," Elladan began, turning to face his sister, "There were three brothers. Their father had been killed in an orc raid when they were young and since then, it had fallen to the three of them to care for the aging mother.

"Winter was on its way, and in the village where they lived, winter was exceedingly harsh. The wind was so strong that it could knock you off of your feet with a single gust, and the snow would get so deep that more than one villager had drowned. It would even get so cold that your breath would freeze as it left your mouth, and would fall to the snow as ice.

"As I was saying, winter was on its way, and the three brothers knew that they would need to go hunting if they were to survive the long cold. So they packed up their hunting hear, kissed their mother goodbye, and went off into the nearby forest to look for game."

Arwen was listening with rapt attention, her eyes wide as she gazed at her brother.

"It was the second night of their week long hunting trip, when seemingly out of nowhere, an early blizzard sprang up. The wind howled like a pack of a thousand wargs, and the snow was so thick that the brothers could not even see their hands in front of their faces.

"Not knowing what else to do, the brothers found a thick bank of snow and dug a hole just big enough for all three to fit in. They climbed in, and there they decided to wait out the storm.

"But the storm just kept raging and raging, piling more and more snow on the brothers' safe haven and keeping them trapped in their little hole. Hours turned into days, and days turned into a week. Still, the brothers were trapped in the hole as the storm outside raged like an ice demon.

"The brothers' rations dwindled quickly, and on the fourth night the brothers ate their final piece of jerky. Now they had nothing to eat. Still, the storm howled around them, on and on and on."

Celebrían felt Elrond suddenly stiffen, the breath stilling in his chest. She glanced up at him, and was surprised to his face settled into a cold, emotionless mask. She frowned slightly. She could guess as to where the tale was heading, and although she was not particularly happy about her sons telling her daughter a frightening story, Arwen had asked for the tale. And it was not too frightening of one, at least not yet, that Celebrían could see any reason for Elrond to react protectively, let alone oddly, as he was.

Her musings were cut short as Elladan continued on with his tale.

"Then, on the seventh night, the eldest brother had a dream. He dreamt that a great white wolf with pupilless red eyes that blazed with light stepped out of the storm, the wind howling around it and ice clinging to its fur. It spoke to him in a voice as powerful as the storm itself.

""You are going to die" the white wolf told the eldest eldest brother, suddenly afraid, fell to his knees and looked to the wolf, tears streaming down his face. "Surely there is a way for me to survive," the brother begged the wolf. The wolf smiled, showing teeth of icicles.

""There is a way" the wolf said, "But only a few are willing to make the sacrifice." Stricken with terror, the eldest brother pled with the wolf to tell him the secret, swearing that he was willing. "Very well," the wolf finally relented, smiled, and then stalked forward to touch its nose to the eldest brother's forehead.

"With that, the eldest brother awoke. And when he awoke he looked down, and saw that there was blood dripping off of his hands. Panicking, he looked around, only to see that both of his brothers were dead, their hearts torn from their chests. And when the brother looked down at his hands again, he saw that in each of his hands, he held one of his brothers' hearts."

Arwen gasped, her mouth wide open, and snuggled deeper into Elrohir's arms, one hand unconsciously fisting in his tunic. Elrohir tightened his embrace protectively.

""Eat them a voice inside the eldest brother's mind said. "You wished to know the secret, and here it is. Now eat their hearts before they grow cold.""

"Did he?" Arwen whispered. "Did he eat them?"

"Yes, he did," Elladan replied, voice low. "And do you know what else? He looked over at his brothers' bodies, and when he looked at them, he felt something inside of him change. He licked his lips, and-"

"That is enough!" Elrond's voice was tight and clipped, and he stood abruptly, eyes flashing.

Elladan looked up at his father, a sheepish grin on his face. "I am sorry Adar, I shall tone it down," he promised.

"No," A look of confusion crossed Elladan's face, "I do not want to hear you repeat that tale ever again. Do you understand me?"

"It is just a story Adar," Elladan protested. "It is not like anyone would ever actually eat the flesh of another being. Well, except for the Orcs," Elladan amended quickly. "That would be…disgusting."

Elrond was completely still, and for a split second, Elladan was gifted the full weight of his father's gaze. And Elladan, as he looked into his father's eyes, caught a flash of unreadable emotion in their grey depths.

"Never tell that story again," Elrond repeated finally, his voice strained. Then he whirled and stalked away, his face once again locked in an unreadable mask.

The family watched Elrond leave with varying degrees of shock. Only Celeborn, it seemed, had any inkling of what just transpired. He had an odd, far distant look in his eyes. Arwen, who could not understand at all what had just happened, turned to her mother.

"Is Ada all right?" she asked in a small voice. "Did the story scare him?"

"No dear," Celebrían said, standing and crossing to kneel beside Elrohir and Arwen, "I do not think so. But come, it is time for you to prepare for bed."

Arwen heaved a sigh, but obediently slid off of Elrohir's lap and obediently took her mother's proffered hand. She turned quickly as Celebrían led her away.

"Will you come and say goodnight Elladan, Elrohir?" she begged. "And you too, Daerada?"

"Of course we will," the twins answered simultaneously, smiling at their sister. Arwen turned to her grandfather.

"Of course, tithen pen," Celeborn answered, smiling at her warmly. Content with their answers, Arwen turned and left with her mother.

Silence reigned supreme for a long moment after Celebrían and Arwen's departure. Finally, Elrohir turned to his grandfather, a puzzled look on his face.

"Daeradar?" he asked. Celeborn looked up to him and raised his eyebrows, indicating that he was listening. "What… What happened? With Adar, I mean. Why did he respond to the story like that? I mean, I can understand that it was a little too graphic for Arwen," Elrohir shot his brother an accusing look, and Elladan had the decency to look abashed, "But it felt like there was something more than that going on. What…" Elrohir trailed off, unsure of how else to word his question.

Celeborn sighed, and then looked from one grandson to the other, as if pondering what to say. Finally he spoke, and it seemed that in his voice Elladan and Elrohir could hear the weight of a thousand years being spoken.

"Your father," Celeborn began, "Has lived through some trying experiences. Perhaps some dark memory was awoken by your tale."

"Some dark memory?" Elladan reiterated. "What do you mean? What memory?"

"That answer was rather vague," Elrohir added dryly.

Celeborn shook his head, and then stood gracefully. "If your father has never told you the story, then neither shall I. If you truly wish to know, then you must ask him. However, I warn both of you to not push him into telling you if he does not wish to. If he says no, then do not pester him about it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," Elrohir said, Elladan repeating the words a second later.

"Good. Now, I am going to find your father. Please tell Arwen that I will be up to say goodnight later?"

"Of course, Daeradar," Elladan promised.

"And Daeradar?" Elrohir called out after his grandfather's retreating back. Celeborn turned halfway around. "Thank you," Elrohir said quickly. Celeborn smiled, and then turned and disappeared, following the path that their father had taken the moment before.

~oOo~

Arwen lay in her bed, snuggled down in her nest of blankets despite the warmth of the night. Her raven tresses spilled over the pillow beneath her head, forming a dark halo that was accentuated by the shadows thrown off by the candle flickering dully on her bedside table,

Elrond shut the door behind him carefully, fearing that the click of the door latching would awaken the sleeping child, then crossed to the bed, his footsteps inaudible on the soft carpet stretched out across the wood paneled floor.

For a long moment Elrond simply stood and looked down on his daughter. He could not help but wonder still that such a beautiful and innocent child was his – his daughter. He breathed in deeply, reigning in the wash of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him with their crushing flood.

Elrond leaned down and gently kissed Arwen on the forehead, and gently smoothed a strand of hair off of her cheek. Then he stood, preparing to leave.

"Ada?" Arwen's voice was quiet and thick with the cobwebs of sleep, but Elrond still heard her plainly. He sat down on the edge of Arwen's bed and took her hand in his when she reached for him.

"Yes my little Undómiel?" he asked.

Arwen's nose wrinkled slightly as she tried to recall what it was that she had so desperately meant to ask her father. Yet she could not seem to remember, her thoughts rolling over in her mind lethargically. Elrond waited patiently, knowing that she would find what it was that she wished to say sooner or later.

"Were you scared?" Arwen asked suddenly, her thoughts clicking into place. She looked up at her father, silver eyes so much like his meeting his own. "The story that Elladan told," she clarified after a second, "Did it scare you?"

Elrond opened his mouth, ready to tell Arwen that no, he had not been scared. But then something stopped him, although he knew not what it was, and he closed his mouth. He inspected his daughter's face for a long moment, suddenly unsure of what to say.

What could he tell his daughter? Not the truth, that much was undeniable. He had never even told Celebrían all that had happened to him during the time that he had been under Vorgod's "care", and the events of the second night of his captivity had always been one of the omitted parts. How could he ever tell his daughter – his young and innocent daughter – the truth?

"Yes, iel nîn," Elrond finally admitted, "Their story frightened me."

Arwen sat up and, after wriggling out from beneath her blankets, climbed over to Elrond and crawled into his lap. Wrapping her arms around his stomach as far as they could go, she hugged him fiercely, laying her cheek against his sternum. Elrond in turn wrapped his own arms around her much smaller body and hugged her in return.

"It is all right to be scared sometimes Ada," Arwen murmured up to him. "Just do not let the fear control you."

Elrond felt as if his chest was closing up and found that it was suddenly difficult for him to breathe. He swallowed with some difficulty, forcing away the tears that threatened to fall.

"It is all right to cry too," Arwen added.

"When did my little Undómiel get to be so wise?" Elrond asked softly, gently stroking her hair.

"It is what you always tell me," Arwen told him simply. "Like the time that I scraped my knee, and when I have the bad dream."

Elrond smiled then, although it was a smile that was laced with aged sorrow, and gently dropped a kiss on the top of his daughter's head.

"Thank you, iel nîn," Elrond whispered. "And now," he said, his voice stronger and more normal, "I think it is time for you to go back to sleep." Arwen grudgingly released her hold and slid off of Elrond's lap, climbing back into her nest of blankets.

She looked up at her father adoringly as he leaned over to kiss her on the forehead once more, and then tucked the blankets more firmly around her.

"Good night, my little Undómiel," Elrond murmured.

"Good night Ada," Arwen replied. "I love you."

"I love you too," Elrond said with a small smile. Arwen smiled back, and then closed her eyes, snuggling against her pillow. They opened again a moment later, but in the half-lidded version of elven dreams.

Elrond stood and crossed to the door, opening it gently. As he prepared to leave, he turned back and glanced at his daughter one final time. Something in him constricted again, and once more he felt the painful brush of tears. He pushed them away stubbornly, and slipped out of the door, closing it silently behind him.

He was out in the hall when Arwen's words drifted back to him. "It is all right to cry too," she had said. "Just do not let the fear control you."

Without warning, it felt as if all of his barriers and walls had been torn down. He felt naked and vulnerable, as if his heart was crying and all could hear. It felt as if his mask had been torn away, leaving behind only him, Elrond, who still felt the scars even all these years later. Yes, they had faded, and they troubled him little on most days, yet tonight, now, it felt as if they were new-made, raw and bleeding.

Elrond covered his face with his hands, tremors overtaking his body. He fell against the wall and slid slowly down until he was crouching on the floor, his back pressed firmly to the wood panels.

He was trembling, elbows braced against his knees and his shoulders heaving. It took a long moment for him to realize that he was sobbing silently. And with that realization came an unexpected sense of freedom, and he began to truly weep. And for the first time he wept without the bitterness and the anger that had held his heart captive all those long years staining his tears.

Celeborn found him there a few moments later, curled into a fetal position on the floor outside of Arwen's door. Without question, he gathered the sobbing peredhel into his arms and rocked him slowly, much as he would a small child, allowed him to cry into his shoulder.

As Elrond sobs slowly began to ease, Celeborn looked up, his eyes on the door leading to Arwen's room. A small smile crept onto his face as he put together what had, or at least had likely, happened.

She would never know what it was that she had done for her father, what she had managed to do where so many others had failed. Yet she would never need to know, and in a way, that made her gift of healing all the more powerful.