In their time spent in Rivendell, most important was the friends they made. Upon their arrival at but twelve years old, they quickly made friends with Morvoran, an older Dunadan boy. He had known the two long before their time in Imladris, when Nenaras was still their foster-father. He proved to be a great friend and older brother to the twins. In their childhood, they found companionship with many of their kin around this age. Closest among them being the friendship of the twins, Morvoran, Gaellant, and the ever absent Estel. Two years they spent all together in Imladris, until the twins were fourteen. At this young age he grew to strike an imposing figure, and he grew wirey and lanky. He was very thin, but bore a proud lineage in his face. He and Earien now enjoyed more freedom wandering than they had prior, exploring Eriador, yet they never again entered Tornhad. For the pain of loss they felt there was too great. They often played a game similar to hide and seek, in which one of the siblings played the foe, and they would try to hide and cover their tracks, and the other would seek them and hone their skills. This game they learned from Nenaras, and never forgot. Often they would try to get other Dunedain to join this, but usually to no avail. However with this game came danger, Earien was far more skilled at hiding her tracks, and Aranarion was more skilled at seeking them, but still her skill was greater, and she often got lost, and required the aid of others to be found, for they knew not well these lands.
It was one sorrowful day where she wandered too far, and crossed the Bruinen at a low ford. Morvoran had joined Aranarion this day, as she crossed into High Hollin and was found by wildmen, and taken away. Aranarion and Morvoran were too late to aid her, finding only her pendant upon the ground, trampled into the mud. Aranarion fell to his knees and looked upon the horizon with tears, and he retrieved the Pendant of Nirnadel, which he now wears upon his breast. He returned with sorrow to the Angle but could not speak, so his greatest friend spoke for him as to what happened. It was too late to aid her, the trace of her was erased by a storm that very night, as if some dark intervention had caused this wind of change.
Aranarion returned to Imladris, and in some cruel twist of fate, sat upon the same bench Ithiliell once did, waiting for Arandur, and he too waited, and looked upon the cusp of the valley, somehow hoping that Earien would come home. For 4 nights he slept upon that bench, and ate only what he brought. And then, he left. He retreated to the wilderness for months, looking for any trace of her, and at his failure, he began a tradition he would repeat almost nightly. He would return to the top of the falls of Imladris, and he would lament, and sing like a bard of old. Like Maglor walking the long shores in repentance:
Brother's Lament
“I await the wind of change
For days long past
Of childhood and joy
Of playing in the grass
The idyllic lands of Imladris
Shall never compare
To our time together
When you were there
Even with father lost
Alone, just me and you
Never once had I thought
That I would lose you too
Sorrow forever fills my heart
As I look southwards past Hollin
Never again can I return home
To our rightful home long fallen
The last piece of our mother
I shall have to live without
Soon will my will run dry
Like a land in long drought
I grow into a man
My hands callous and blister
Though I wish you were here
You are forever my sister”
His heart was filled with grief, yet he hardly relinquished hope. He would sing to her, as if calling and waiting for a response. But no answer ever came. And in time he would come into his mind and body. In height he would grow, and wisdom too, for manhood was not now far away. As his heart rose and fell with the hopes of his people, he departed from Imladris. He would reside there no longer, tragedy taking him from Lord Elrond, as tragedy once took his father.
Upon one of those nights where he would return to his spot high above the falls, he had resolved to leave. He had in secret packed his things, and told not a soul. Yet it was by chance, or perhaps destiny that this night Nenaras emerged from the treeline to look upon Aranarion, as he was wont to do frequently. Their gaze met and not a word needed to be spoken. They embraced, for Nenaras knew what had befallen Earien. They departed together, and dwelt in the wilds of Eriador, ranging far and wide, or perhaps hiding. Aranarion did not wish to return to Rivendell, yet he was searched for greatly.
For nigh a year the two were inseparable once more, and Nenaras now knew well the tale of Earien’s loss. They did not speak of it after Aranarion told the tale in full, not even once. It became as if she did not exist, for Aranarion’s ire would grow greatly with the mention of her name. He was a bitter and angry teenager now, but Nenaras showed him love that he had sorely missed. This change in him was greatly apparent to Nenaras, a hint of resentment deep within Aranarion. But all things great and kind would not forever last, and Nenaras greatly desired to return to Wilderland. He wished to take Aranarion with him, to divorce him from the world of men that had done naught but hurt him. Aranarion did not take this well, not by any metric. And though he loved the home of Nenaras in wilderland, and missed sorely the animals and Curuwin, he exploded at Nenaras and cried aloud that he was abandoning him again, by going where he knew Aranarion could not follow. And then Aranarion uttered words he would regret quickly after:
“Have you returned only to tug at the chords of my heart? It is YOUR fault she is gone. If you never left us, she’d still be with me. You took everything from me! I hate you! I wish never to see your face again!”
And he then ushered from what makeshift home they had made that night and ran like there was a treacherous beast on his heels, as if death itself dogged his footsteps. He made southbound, and after many days he wished greatly to turn around, to run into the arms of Nenaras. But Nenaras was not there, and he began to resent that fact too, as much as he resented himself for the words he had spoken to the father he had known. Deny it as he would, he loved Nenaras, but he could no longer go back. He rested in the land of his ancestors, in Cardolan. He wandered ruins of castles and towns and temples, with a great sorrow.
After those many months, the search intensified; Rangers searched day and night,Morvoran among them. In times passed, Morvoran was like his older brother, and he deferred often to him. But no longer. Aranarion had been forced to mature, and he needed none to look out for him any longer, not Nenaras, not Morvoran, no one. It was he who found Aranarion sitting upon the stones of Gond Orchal, final resting place of King Thorondur. Aranarion quietly and morosely played the fine flute Earien had given him. It was a slow melodic tune, full of sorrow. Morvoran clumsily interrupted, and the two reconnected. Morvoran brought Aranarion out of his stupor, and allowed him this moment of grief. In their musings, they made a promise that would chase their fates intertwined as long as they lived. That they shall dread the day they become wise, and that they shall e'er come to the other's aid while they still draw breath. It was an oath not easily made, yet easier broken, for many things would try to wedge between them. Morvoran allowed Aranarion to continue his wanderings before returning, sending word back to Imladris that he had been found. The two would wander together for a time, before returning to Lord Elrond.
