Sneezefic by Silver Elf

Rain was uncommon in Rivendell, but when it fell, it fell relentlessly, freezing and stubborn. It was cold, stinging rain; rain that made your hair sparkle. Cruel drops that refused to be brushed away, clinging to your skin and soaking through your clothing. Rains that always made you want to cry.

Aragorn was visiting his mother's grave when the rains struck. Fitting, that the heavens would choose now to weep, mirroring the tears that kissed the ranger's flushed cheeks.

Aragorn touched his lips to the tips of his fingers, and brushed those fingers over the cold, still face of his mother's stone. He pulled himself to his feet slowly, having been kneeling for hours. He could not hold back a quiet groan of discomfort as his knees creaked and popped, after being folded under his body for so long.

"Namárië, Naneth." Holding his hand over his heart, Aragorn closed his eyes and sent praise to the Valar, blessing his mother. Soft blue eyes opened and Aragorn backed out of the clearing slowly, taking in the proud stone guarding his mother's grave one last time before turning and walking away with brisk steps. Wet, uncomfortable and lonely, he hurried back to his foster father's home.

Some hours later, Aragorn emerged from his bedroom, dry and warm, but still weighed down with an uncomfortable feeling of aloneness. He nodded to Galenrodion, one of the many servants kept in his Adar's home, one he was particularly fond of, and made his way to the study. The large, warm room with its books and open fireplace was perhaps one of Aragorn's favorites in the very large house. Here, he felt safe and well-kept, and not so very… empty.

Picking up the large volume the young man had taken to leafing through, he settled down on the thick carpet, crossing his legs and sitting in one fluid movement. He propped the large book open in his lap and flipped through the thin pages. He looked down at the page, but found that the letters were swimming before his eyes, dancing and refusing to be still. Aragorn blinked a few times and, when his vision didn't clear, reached up with one calloused hand and rubbed at his eyes hard with a few knuckles. Blinking again, Aragorn turned his eyes once more down to the book he had. Satisfied that he could read the words printed upon the pages, he settled down to do just that.

A quarter of an hour later, Aragorn was forced to raise his head from his book again. He had started sniffling, and was now doing so constantly. And now, a subtle tingling was building up in the back of his nasal passages. With a soft grumble of annoyance, he reached into his vest pocket, withdrawing a neatly folded handkerchief. He lifted it to his nose and waited.

It didn't take long. The man's breath quickened, watering eyes were pulled shut, and a sharp gasp was mostly muffled into the folds of the handkerchief. "Heh! Heh'Impshh! Huh'Ihhshhhh! Heh'Ihhshhh! Ohh..." A soft groan passed Aragorn's lips, and he blew lightly to rid his nose of any further irritations.

"Galu, Estel." A soft voice coming from the doorway caused Aragorn to snap his head up. Elrond, as always, looked regal and important. But at this moment, he also looked vaguely concerned. Cool grey eyes studied the young man, dark eyebrows knit in worry.

"Thank you," Aragorn mumbled quietly, not wanting to speak in the language of the elves when he felt so very much like a man. He sniffled softly and averted his eyes from his father's piercing stare. Elrond smiled faintly, but it was a sad smile. Almost as if he could read Aragorn's thoughts, he switched over to the more common tongue, used by all races.

"All is well in Gilraens' spot, is it?" Elrond's voice was soft, searching. As if by speaking of the youngling's mother, he would be able to draw him out more. Whether or not the attempt worked, the elf lord did not know. Another sneeze came upon Aragorn before he could answer.

"Heh'Ihhshhh! Huh'kishh!" The young man's slender frame shook forward as he sneezed freely. He brought the handkerchief up to his nose belatedly, his cheeks tinged with red in embarrassment. He lifted his eyes to his father, shoulders hunched in misery. "I am sorry, Ada- Lord Elrond" his voice was quiet, and tinged with misery.

Elrond stepped further into the room, his eyes softened with concern. He reached one smooth hand forward to measure Aragorn's temperature, speaking in soothing tones. "No Estel, do not apologize. Not for this. You have fallen ill. It is not uncommon for men to do so, and we even expect it of you." This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Aragorn drew in on himself more so, tucking his arms around his body and shying away from Elrond's touch. The elder looked at his foster son, so fragile and haunted, and lowered his hand. "What troubles you, Ion?"

Aragorn lowered his eyes at this, and took in a deep breath, as if beginning to tell a great tale. Instead, he gasped sharply and raised his arm, to sneeze into the crook. "Heh! Heh'Ketchh! Ih'keshh! Heh'KETCHHH!" Aragorn groaned again and lowered his arm, sniffling with some difficulty. His cheeks burned as he lifted his handkerchief, quickly becoming damp and useless, and made use of the only relatively dry spot left. He sniffled again, miserable, and breathed out through his mouth in a wretched sigh.

"Galu, Ion…" Again, Elrond reached out to touch the lad's forehead. And again Aragorn pulled away at the term used.

"Why must you call me that?" The young man's voice was soft and edged with light congestion, but fierce and determined anyway. Elrond tilted his head to the side slightly, and studied his young foster son. Dark eyebrows rose, and his grey eyes held a question that he did not need to speak to ask. Aragorn took in another deep breath and puffed out his cheeks in a sigh, before continuing. "You refer to me as your son, just the same as you do to Elrohir and Elladan. And I'm not. I'm not your son; I'm not even your race!" His voice rose from emotion, and he had to turn away to cough into a tightly clenched fist.

Elrond waited for the fit to pass before coming to kneel before Aragorn. He reached out to touch the lad, and his brow furrowed just slightly. He moved to lay his hand against Aragorn's cheek, but instead grasped the young man's shoulder firmly. He forced soft blue eyes to meet his own, and when they did, Elrond was surprise to see that there were tears in his foster son's eyes.

"Estel... Aragorn... I refer to you as my son because you are just that. Just as the twins are," Elrond's lips curved up into a gentle smile, and he raised his hand again to touch the warm skin. "When your naneth brought you to me, I promised her I would watch over you, and care for you. I did that for her, but I love you for another reason. I love you because you are my child. Believe me when I tell you that it doesn't matter what race you are. You will always be family, my minai ion."

Aragorn leaned into Elrond's touch, his eyes closed. Gentle tears washed his face, but he made no move to brush them away. Instead, he reached up and covered Elrond's hand with his own. "Ada... I am sorry. I do not know what came over me... We are family, I know this. I just miss her, and sometimes I feel like IÍm not strong enough." He sniffled wetly and opened his eyes again, bright with tears and glazed over from fever. "I feel weak when I fall ill. Oh Adar, I did not mean to get sick, hon...estly..." His voice wavered, his breath caught, and slender hands came up to cover his nose as he fell forward with the sneezes. "Heh'Kishh! Eh'Isshh! ISHH! Heh-EH'kishh!"

"Galu. No Estel, I know you did not mean to fall ill. It is simply something you cannot control any more than you can control the change of the weather." A kind smile crossed Elrond's noble face, and he raised his hand to touch his son's forehead. He felt the heat radiating off the pale skin, and immediately his smile melted into a worrisome frown. His eyes darkened to the color of the sky outside as he moved his hand to Aragorn's cheek again. "Estel, when did you start feeling badly?" Aragorn shrugged, blowing his nose, which was beginning to take on a red tinge, yet again. "You are running a fever. Elrohir! Elladan!" Elrond raised his voice, to call the attention of his twin sons. A moment later, identical dark heads poked through the doorway.

"Yes Ada? What have we done now?"

"Elrohir did it."

"No, it was Elladan!" The twins began to argue heatedly, identical grey eyes shooting sparks at each other. Aragorn glanced at Elrond, a tiny smile on his face. Elrond returned the glance, half amused and half exasperated. He stepped between the fighting twins, a slender hand on each of their chests.

"Ionnath, please be quiet. Neither of you have done anything that I've discovered yet. I need you to do something for me."

"Anything you need, you have but to ask, Ada." Elladan smiled sweetly, and Elrohir made a face at Aragorn behind his fatherÍs back. Aragorn stifled a giggle, which resulted in another fit of heavy, husky coughing that nearly bent the young man in half from the force. Elrohir's eyes widened marginally, as he looked from Aragorn, to Elladan, to Elrond, and back to Aragorn. Finally he spoke up.

"Estel? What is wrong, tithin tôr?" The young elf laid his hand on his little brother's back, rubbing in warm, soothing circles. Aragorn shook his head, unable to speak around the coughing that wracked his slender frame.

"Estel, just breathe. Breathe slowly." Elrond instructed, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. He looked at Elladan, whose brow was furrowed in concern as well, and spoke again, quickly. "Elladan, go to the kitchens, tell Enedbal that Aragorn has fallen ill, and that I request feverfew and apple tea to be sent to his room. Elrohir, tell Galen that extra firewood is to be brought to the fireplace in Estel's room as well. Come ion. I'm taking you to bed." Wheezing, Aragorn nodded weakly.

"Yes Ada." The twins chorused in unison before scuttling off to their appointed tasks. Aragorn turned his eyes up to Elrond's, red and tear-rimmed, and Elrond encircled the lad's slender shoulders with one arm. "Come Estel. You'll feel better once you're in bed."

Aragorn nodded, before turning his head and sneezing quickly to the side. "Het'Kshhh! Huh'ISHH!" He sniffled weakly, miserably, and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. He looked up at his father, a small pout forming on his lips. "Adar? When I'm in bed, will you tell me a story?"

Elrond smiled at Aragorn, who looked so much like his mother, and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Of course I will, Estel. If you promise to drink your tea and remain in bed until you feel better." Aragorn nodded, sniffling softly, and Elrond tightened his hold on the young man. "I know that you feel lonely sometimes, Estel, but you do not have to. After all, you have the twins, and Loriena and Drea, and Legolas when he is visiting from Mirkwood." Elrond smiled at how his son's eyes lit up at mention of the flaxen-haired prince, and he took note to summon the elf to Rivendell as soon as the rains stopped. "And, you've always got me." He added, as an afterthought.

Aragorn could not fight back the smile that tugged at his lips, and he spoke before he could stop himself. "And I will always have you?" The question was asked softly, almost timidly, in a wavering voice that was still thick from crying, and congestion besides. Aragorn blushed, feeling foolish that he could not control his tongue. Elrond smiled again and rubbed Aragorn's shoulder gently.

"You'll always have me, ion." He murmured. They reached the young man's bedroom, and Elrond nudged Aragorn inside with an order to change for bed while he fetched an herb to burn in the night.

Aragorn, standing in the middle of his very elven bedroom, looked out the large window. It was still raining, but the sky had lightened considerably. Aragorn could almost see the sun trying to break through the clouds, and he smiled again, in spite of himself. His cold may get worse, and he may always be the weak one in the house. But, there were two things he could always count on; He had his family, and there was always sunshine after the rain.

The End

Elvish-to-English:

Namárië - Farewell
Naneth - Mother
Galu - Bless (you)/ blessings
Adar/Ada - Father/Dad
Ion - Son
Minai - unique
Ionnath - sons
tithin tôr - little brother

Aragorn, Elrond, the twins, and everything else mentioned hereafter are the brilliant creations of Master J. R. R. Tolkien. I get nothing from this. Just joy. A/N: God, this thing has been bothering me for weeks. Silly 'fic. And now it's done and I gotta say... it's not the greatest. But I'm just so frustrated with it, I give up. So enjoy. The elvish translations can be found at the bottom. Whee.