Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: The World of Men (#3328)
Author: Vilwarin
Chapters: 4

Warning: Undefined variable $retval in /home/httpd/vhosts/openscrolls.net/httpdocs/fanfic/download.php on line 105

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: Aragorn, aged twenty, leaves Rivendell to return to his own people. In the Angle, he must cope with loss, high expectations and his new family in order to form a new life.
Published: 21 Feb 2007
Updated: 04 Dec 2007
Warnings:
Type: General
Characters: Aragorn; Halbarad; Dúnedain


Chapter 1 - Leavetaking

“Then Aragorn took leave lovingly of Elrond; and the next day he said farewell to his mother, and the house of Elrond, and to Arwen, and went out into the wild.”

-Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen.

Imladris, mid-September 2951\r\n\r\n


It had been a beautiful and warm day in the valley and the afternoon sun still provided enough warmth to be outside. Aragorn sat on the balcony of his room, eyes intently fixed on the courtyard below him. A party of Rangers had been seen approaching Imladris.

So this is to be my last day here. Tomorrow I will leave all this behind.

It felt strange to go, closing a chapter in the book of his life to open a new one. But this was what he had wanted, had sent the message to his people himself.

I am the lord of a noble people, and to them I will return. I have been trained by the best and will not fail. Aragorn breathed in the beautiful scent of the potted flowers on the railing. But how I will miss my family! And Arwen. He closed his eyes at the pain this thought brought, for he loved her dearly. Will she miss me as well? He did not know her heart, for she had said nothing to him of her feelings towards him. But Aragorn was young and hope was strong within him, and he was sure that he would master the tasks set before him, even if it meant that he would be alone.

He remained where he was, mentally going through the preparations already made and those he would have to make in the morning. Some hours before sunset the party he awaited finally arrived. From his vantage point Aragorn saw that it consisted of three men and two elves of the border guards. He felt anxiousness well up within him. He had spent many days wondering what a ranger might look like for had never seen one before.

When they passed the gate, Aragorn stayed where he was, watching intently. They looked grim, but despite their worn clothes of green and brown they held themselves proudly on their shaggy steeds. So these are my people.

“Aragorn!” his mother's call spoke of excitement, “come outside with me. They have arrived.”

Gilraen smiled as she stood in the doorway to Aragorn's room. She reached up to straighten Aragorn's tunic, “You must look presentable, my son.”

He looked down at his clothing and shrugged. “This is the finest piece of clothing I own. Do you think I should have worn something... plainer? I could see them from my balcony and think that maybe my clothes mock theirs?”

She looked him up and down, then sighed. “A lord can as well greet his people in state. Now come with me, they are already waiting.”

The rangers had already been bidden into hall. All three of them stood still, silently waiting. Aragorn thought that their sombre and poor clothing gave a strong contrast to their persons.
They were tall, with black hair, and their piercing gray eyes that held a light that was almost elvish.

At this moment Aragorn realized the privileges he had enjoyed by growing up in Imladris. If he had grown up with the Dúnedain, he surely would look no different.
He knew that the circumstances of his life would undergo great changes, but it suddenly seemed far more real than before. He would manage – somehow.

While Aragorn prepared to give them a formal greeting, his mother rushed past him and threw herself in the arms of one of the men. He held her for a few moments. Then she pulled away, and Aragorn saw that she had her eyes were moist.

“My son,” she said, “this is my uncle Gildor, my mother's younger brother, I have told you of him. He has been acting as Chieftain for the past eighteen years.”

As Aragorn looked onto Gildor's face, he saw that he was smiling. Then, unexpectedly, Gildor crossed the distance between them and hugged him tightly. For a moment, Aragorn stood shocked and unmoving, then he returned the embrace. He could only imagine how it would be for his great-uncle, and for all the Dúnedain, to finally have their Chieftain returned to them after more than eighteen long years. Alike to someone arising from the dead.

“My heart rejoices to see you again,” his mother's uncle whispered, voice thick with emotion. He pulled back and continued in a louder, stronger voice, “I brought Hirgon and Baragund with me.”
Hearing their names spoken, they stepped forth and bowed, their right hands over their hearts. They clasped Aragorn's outstretched arm, but remained silent.
In the short moment they made eye contact, Aragorn saw their curiosity and wondered what they thought of him. They must all be old enough to have served under my father and grandfather. Are they comparing me with them?


Later that afternoon, Aragorn sat in his favourite tree with a book in his lap. He tried to read a bit, relishing the peace on this spot one last time, but the letters blurred, and finally he gave up. I am saying goodbye. He closed his eyes and and let his long legs dangle.
Footsteps crunched on the pebble-strewn path, and he knew it must be one of his kinsmen. His eyes flew open, and he saw his great-uncle walking below him. Aragorn leaned down a bit so he would be seen and addressed the older man.

“Are you inspecting Imladris?”

Gildor started a bit, then turned his head up towards Aragorn, smiling.

“I was actually looking for you. Climbing trees like an elf. Is it comfortable up there?”

“I used to come here as a child when I wanted to hide. Of course everybody knew I was there, but no one ever disturbed me. I come here to think, as it has always given me peace.”

“You have much to think about now, do you not?”

“ Aye, much indeed. But wait, I will come down.” The leaves rustled and a few moments later Aragorn dropped down lightly onto the path. “Conversation is easier now, uncle, if I may say so?”

Gildor smiled again. “Of course you may, it makes no difference to me if you call me great-uncle or merely uncle. May I call you nephew, then?”

Aragorn inclined his head. “Aye. Shall we walk in the gardens? They are beautiful.”

Gildor nodded and Aragorn led him on. They ambled through the gardens, admiring the flowers planted on each side. Aragorn started the conversation.

“I would like us to speak openly, we are family, and my mother trusts you and I want to do so as well.” I need this man and his trust.

The older man gestured for Aragorn to continue. “Of course, speak your mind.”

“My thoughts have been manifold and have gone in many directions these last months. But I wonder most about my place among our people.”

“You are our lord, Aragorn.”

“I know as much, but not all that that entails.” Aragorn confessed.

Gildor did not answer right away, obviously thinking. “Many things, you are the captain of the Rangers as well as the Chieftain and leader of our people. You have to speak justice. But above all you are the heir of Isildur.”

“They tell me that I am the last, but surely, in all the generations of kings and chieftains, there were other sons and daughters with heirs alive now. Do none of them contest my place?”

“There were of course others. Do not think an heir of Isildur would be content with one child only. But people about it. The younger sons had to publicly renounce their claim on the lordship, while the daughters did not.”

Aragorn stopped at that, fully turning towards Gildor. “So the daughters could claim lordship?”

Gildor had stopped as well and was now meeting Aragorn eyes squarely. “The female succession is a much debated issue, Aragorn. It was made law in Númenor that a woman can inherit, but only if there is no male successor.”

“So there could be opposition?” Aragorn asked, now alarmed.

“Not as long as you are alive. So do not fear.”

Aragorn did not further comment on that. They walked on in silence for a few minutes before Aragorn spoke again.

“Gildor?”

“Yes, nephew?”

“What do people think about my long absence?”

Gildor did not answer right away and Aragorn began to fear. Are they discontent? How will they receive me? They might think me too elvish!

“Some of them... became angry upon hearing that Elladan and Elrohir had taken you and your mother here, claiming that your place was with them. But you were only two years old and all knew the enemy hunted descendants of Isildur. It was too dangerous for you there. But we could not convince all of the necessity, though, and they still hod a grudge against Elrond, especially your grandfather Dírhael. But in time most saw reason. Let me assure you that they, like all of us, are looking forward to having you again. You are no stranger.”

Aragorn did not want to hear any more about possible discord and saw a chance to change the topic. He would deal with it when and if it came. “You must remember me as a toddler.”

“Aye, I do. And now I see a man in front of me. I have heard much of you over the years and wondered how you looked.”

“You have heard much about me? How is that possible?” Aragorn asked, bewildered.

“Whenever Elladan and Elrohir met with us, they brought us news of you. It gladdened us all to hear you were well and grew into a fine young man. But now I think it would be better if we could get to know each other while we have time to speak alone. What would you know?”

Aragorn had had many questions, but now he did not know how to voice them. It was a while before he answered.

“I would learn about your family and how you live.”

Gildor smiled.

“I live in a town called Carastar and am married to your father's sister Araneth. Together we have four children, three boys and a girl. Halladan, my eldest, is twenty-seven, then there is Halbarad at twenty-two, and Míriel, nineteen. Haldor, my youngest, is sixteen. He has only just started his ranger-training and is obsessed with it.”


“Are they usually this age when the begin their training?”

“Weapon's training and the teaching of other skills naturally begins much earlier. But at this age they begin their duties, not beyond the first sentry line, though.”

“And when is a ranger's training finished?”

“This differs, of course. But as a rule, no one goes alone if he is not yet twenty-five.”

“When he is of age.” No journeys alone for the next four and a half years.

“You will reach that age soon enough.”

The two had left the gardens behind and now approached a little wood. Aragorn stopped and caressed the bark of the nearest tree.

“Everything here holds so many memories. Now I am finding that I never really appreciated what I had. Growing up here in peace was such a normal thing for me that I assumed it was so everywhere. But now I know that this was wrong.”

“You were well protected in this haven. You should be glad for it, not mourn it.”

“I am, I only mourn the fact that not everybody can experience such a childhood. There is so much misery in this world. How shall I face it and how shall I lead a scattered people?”

Gildor squeezed his shoulders before replaying with a grin, “I should say listen to your heart and to the ones wiser than you. But let us go back to the house now.”

The two made their way back to the gardens in silence. When they arrived, the lamps framing the paths had already been lit. Aragorn stopped in front of the entry to the house.

“Thank you for telling me about you and our people, uncle, though you have given me more to think about.”

Gildor inclined his head, “Gladly have I done it. I will see you at dinner.”

Gildor left with long strides. Aragorn remained standing for a time, breathing deeply listening to the sounds of the night. You told me the truth, you have my trust. Despite the still very warm temperature, Aragorn shivered.


Aragorn did not sleep well that night. Though autumn had come, the nights remained unusually hot, and he tossed and turned the whole night, the short hours of sleep he was granted were troubled.
Over and over, his mind produced images of Carastar, the place where he would come to live, and every time the images were different and the faces changed.
Finally he could bear it no longer. He dressed and made his way out of his chamber. Night still hung over the valley and the corridors were empty.

Almost without thinking, Aragorn left the house, took the path he had taken with Gildor, and walked towards the small wood of birches. Unbidden, other memories assailed his mind He remembered Arwen as he had seen her for the first time. She had worn a mantle of silver and blue. How beautiful she had looked with the red light of the setting sun illuminating her form and making the gems on her brows sparkle and gleam like fire.

Since then, his life changed completely. Not one day passed without thinking of her, it even overshadowed the weight that came with the lordship of a lost people. He knew he could not allow himself the luxury of letting her rule his days, but it was so very hard to ignore the love he felt.
He arrived at his destination, half hoping she would be there, but of course she was not. He lay down on the grass and gazed up at the many stars overhead. Still sleep would not come, but at last the stars gave him solace and his mind peace.
He stayed until the first sunrays penetrated the darkness.

Aragorn walked back slowly, trying to take it all in and keep the images in his mind. I am leaving today and do not know the day of my return. When he arrived back at the house, it was already time for breakfast, and so he decided to go straight into the dining-hall rather than stop at his room. On the way, Elrohir spotted him and fell in stride with him.

“Good morning, Estel. Bad night?” the elf asked by way of greeting.

Aragorn looked questioningly at his foster brother. Elrohir chuckled.

“You have grass-stains on your back. This tells me that you lay outside rather than in your bed. You are troubled, are you not?”

Aragorn sighed. “Aye, my heart is troubled. But this is to be expected; you know that I will leave today. I have never seen my people before, and I feel as if I am thrust into icy water. I do not know their ways.”

“Hm,” Elrohir answered, “we have taught you much, as, I am sure, has your mother. You do not arrive at Carastar without knowledge.”

“Aside from my mother and now Gildor, I know no Dúnadan. I know not their hearts. Do you think I am prepared for this?”

Elrohir considered this for a moment.
“Do you think you will be more prepared when you are older? Think of the birds and how they teach their little ones how to fly. They push them out of the nest, and they fall for a time, but then they spread their wings and fly. It will be so with you, pen fileg.”

Aragorn actually laughed at Elrohir's last comment.

“This is the first time I have been compared to a bird.”

“Well, perhaps an eagle is more to the point, for you have talons. Now go, thoron,” Elrohir played with the word, “son of a kingly eagle.”

Before Aragorn could comment on the reference to his father, Elrohir pushed the door of the dining-hall open.

They were the last to arrive, and the others, including his uncle, Hirgon, and Baragund, had already started with their breakfast.

“Ah, you have found him, Elrohir. Good morning, Estel.” Elrond greeted him warmly.

“Good morning to you as well, ada, and to all of you. I was outside, taking a walk.” Aragorn answered, boldly seating himself on the vacant chair to Arwen's right. When he was seated, their gazes met only for the briefest of moments before she averted her eyes, but he had seen something in her intense gaze that made him pause. As she looked up again, it had vanished. She wished him a good morning as well, smiling warmly. Aragorn smiled back.

He grabbed a slice of bread and cheese, then turned to her. “I would like to talk with you ere I leave.”

Her hands stilled but for a moment and Aragorn would have missed it if he had not been looking at her closely. “Of course, after breakfast?”

“I will have to finish packing first, but after I that.”

Arwen cocked her head and smiled. “Shall I help you, we can talk then.”

“I would not want you to work on my behalf.”

“Nonsense,” she made a sweeping gesture and her hand brushed against his, “you know that I would gladly help you, do you not?”

Suddenly Elladan leaned over the table. “Gildor tells me that you talked to him yesterday.”

Aragorn took a bite of bread and chewed, then, “I have, and?”
“What do you think?”

“I found him to be a nice man.”

Elladan pushed a bowl of apples away and leaned even closer, a grin on his face. “And?”

Aragorn pushed it back, making Arwen laugh. “You sound as if Gildor were a young lady!” Arwen laughed once again. “And even though I consider you my brother does not mean I tell you everything.”

Elladan pulled a face, grinned again and addressed Arwen. “Our brother here begins having secrets.” Aragorn sighed inwardly. She is not my sister, but you do not understand. He took another bite and ate in silence.



Aragorn went to his chambers to finish packing. Even though he had packed the previous evening, there were still some things he had to take care of. After a few moments, Arwen knocked at the doorframe. He waved her in.

“I promised I would come.” She said quietly.

“And I never doubted it. But I have nothing for you to do. Let us just sit here.” He led her to a couch and sat next to her. But words would not come.

Arwen took his hands and squeezed them. “You wanted to say goodbye?”

“Yes, and no.” He stammered a bit and sighed. “I wanted to apologize, I should not have confronted you the way I did. It was not fair.”

“It was not your fault, Aragorn. You are young yet and know not much of the world. I am sorry that I hurt you, but I cannot return your feelings.” She bowed her head, then looked at him again. “At least not yet.” She gave a start when she realized what she had said. At least not yet? Is there hope? If I but knew her thoughts. “But I will give you my friendship, if you want it.”

“I would gladly have it, as well as your blessings, lady.”

“And gladly will I give them.” She kissed him on the cheek, then embraced him. “I will leave you to your packing then.”

Aragorn leaned back and watched her retreating form.

At his feet stood two small chests and various packs, waiting to be carried outside. This was all the packhorse would be able to carry, and he had packed with consideration. The result was a mix of clothes, weapons, healing supplies, favourite books, and other personal items he could not part with. On top of everything lay the shards of Narsil.

Aragorn hesitated to leave the room that had been his for as long as he could remember. He sighed, crossed the floor and sat on the bed. Somehow, it felt strange to pack his things and know that he was not coming back in a week or two, or even in a month.
His home was here no longer, and he had packed to start a new life.
He hugged the pillow and buried is face in its softness, breathing in and out slowly. It would not serve anything if he cried now. A light weight settled next to him on the mattress and Gilraen's hand caressed his head.

“Goro amdir, ion-nin, iston bellithach. Have faith, you will be strong,”

She repeated the elvish words and pressed him against her breast. Aragorn groaned.

“Naneth, I am no longer a little boy! I have no need of this.” He complained, but held still none the less.

“But maybe I have. You will always be my little boy, no matter how old you are.”

They sat for a while, Gilraen humming the melody of a song that she used to sing to her little son. Then she straightened herself and pushed him in a sitting position.

“Garo estel. It is time. My uncle is ready to leave, now say goodbye to me and make your farewells to the other.” She kissed the top of his head. “I will miss you very much, Aragorn. Go with my blessing.”

“I will miss you as well, naneth. I will try to come back when I may.”

Standing up together, Gilraen smoothed back the hair that had fallen in her son's eyes.

“Go now, they are waiting.”

Aragorn took the pack he usually used for traveling and slung it over his shoulder, leaving the rest to be taken out by the members of the house.

They were all outside in the courtyard to see him off. Suddenly Aragorn felt a stab of pain in his heart at the sight. Who knew when he would see them again, or if he would ever come back to the Valley. A part of him wished he could stay, but that door was now closed to him. All that lay ahead was the unknown road.

Elrond stepped forth, and embraced him warmly.

“We have said all there is to say. I know that you are prepared for your new life and I am proud of you, my son, for that you will be to me always, no matter your real parentage. Remember that home is where the heart lies and that you will always be welcome in this house. I love you, Aragorn.”

With that, the two parted and Aragorn received numerous embraces or clasps from the inhabitants of the valley.
Arwen was there as well, and she held a package in her hands which she gave him.

“What is in there?” Aragorn asked curiously.

Arwen smiled at him. “Something for the road. You told me once it was your favourite sweet.”

He thanked her and kissed her hand.

Elladan and Elrohir were the last of Elrond's household to approach him and when Aragorn noticed that they were attired for riding, he knew what was coming.

“You know that if you want us to come with you, we will.” Elrohir proposed.

For a moment Aragorn was tempted to accept their offer, but then he steeled himself for what he knew was the right thing.
Laying a hand on both their shoulders, he said softly,

“At any other time, my brothers, I would gladly take you with me, but I have to do this alone. This is my journey to face on my own.”

He gave each of them a brief hug before pulling back.

Gilraen stood with her kinsmen and was the last he had to say his farewells to. He took her into his arms, and they stood for a while.

“Take care, my son. And do not forget to visit your mother, yes? Oh, how I will miss you, Aragorn.”

They pulled back, and she gave him a kiss on the forehead in blessing. Aragorn walked with the other Dúnedain to their horses. Once mounted, Baragund took the lead-line of the packhorse. With the pressure of legs on horse-flanks, they started to move, Aragorn forcing himself not to look back.

---

A bit of Sindarin: pen fileg: little bird
thoron: eagle
Garo amdir, ion-nin, iston bellithach: have faith, my son, you will be strong
Garo estel: have hope


Chapter 2 - Home

'But my home, such as I have, is in the North. For here the heirs of Valandil have ever dwelt in long line unbroken from father unto son for many generations.'

- Aragorn, the Council of Elrond

The road to Carastar, mid September 2951\r\n\r\n




Their journey on the Great East Road went smoothly, and in the early evening of the third day the four Dúnedain reached reached a bridge that led over a deep ravine with a river rushing far below them. Their path branched off at their left, though it could not be considered much more than trampled earth, which the eye could easily miss.

Not far off the road they were greeted by the two watchers of the bridge. They spent their night in their shelter and talked long about the travelers that had passed. Apparently they had just missed a group of dwarves.

The morning dawned bright and clear. It had rained last night and now the air was fresh and cool. Aragorn breathed deeply, trying to relax. His sleep had not been dreamless last night, but this time he had seen his mother rather than strange faces. Not for the first time he wondered how she fared. He could almost hear Elrond admonishing him. 'Do not worry, you have left her before.' Aragorn shook his head. But it is not the same. I am not hers any longer. From this day on I am theirs.

He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension.

Their journey was now very slow and in more than one place their horses had problems picking their way.

On both sides tall pine trees rose high above them and from deep down Aragorn heard the soft rush of the river. The leaves rustled and small twigs snapped under the tread of their horses but nothing else penetrated the strange silence and Aragorn felt himself grow more and more alert the farther they went. His eyes restlessly scanned the dense woods to their right.

"This area is heavily patrolled," Hirgon commented from behind him, "we are now riding in relative safety."

Aragorn had learned years ago that there was no such thing as safety in the Wild. He wanted to trust the old ranger who had certainly more knowledge of orcs and other dangers in the Wild, but he could not shake off the uneasy feeling. When something finally came crashing through the trees, it was not a surprise. But the orc was alone and quickly killed by Baragund's spear.

They had not finished dealing with the corpse when a man with a silver star on his cloak came walking purposefully from the same direction as the orc. The ranger halted in front of Gildor and saluted. Aragorn looked at his companions. Gildor was frowning, Baragund looked surprised, but he could not read Hirgon's expression. His face was grim as he stared at Gildor.

"Ranger Hatholdir" he addressed the man, "report!"

The man swallowed nervously. "A band of orcs attacked us from the north-west. No fatal injuries. We slew all but this one. I followed his tracks as soon as we discovered them, Captain. It seems like the stupid creature made a run for it and ran straight into you in its haste."

Gildor's expression had become dark as he glared at the other man. "You know the possible consequences of an escaped orc, do you not? Especially if it is so close to one of our villages. Try and be more careful next time. Your task here is ended, go back to your patrol."

Aragorn wondered why Gildor scolded the Ranger so severely. He shook his head at his own foolishness. He should have remembered that they had no resources to strengthen their defenses. One spy returned might prove disastrous.

Hatholdir vanished the way he had come and Gildor turned to Aragorn and his companions.

"Their numbers seem to increase daily and what we thought protected is so no longer. I am only waiting for news of a ravaged village. We can do nothing but be more vigilant." He shook his head, "It is frustrating."

"What will you do when we get home, Gildor?" Hirgon asked.

"Do? Nothing. We discussed the matter before we left. If you, lieutenant, can tell me where to get the men, I would give you better defenses. A band of orcs will not change the patrols!"

Hirgon snorted and mounted his horse. Aragorn wondered what the two men had quarreled about, but kept his thoughts to himself. If Gildor did not want it addressed, he would not mention it either. Nobody made any further comments on this and they rode on in silence. Their path now went gently downhill and the ravine gradually broadened into a wide valley.

Sometime later there came a strange, unnatural birdcall and Hirgon whistled something in return. A moment Aragorn heard a rustling in the undergrowth.

"We have just passed the line of sentries." Gildor elaborated, "see, here he comes."

To their right a boy emerged from the vegetation. His black hair hung in wild, wavy strands down to his shoulders and a big grin was plastered across his face.

"Haldor." Gildor addressed the boy.

"Welcome home, father." Haldor answered, then turned huge eyes on Aragorn. "And welcome, my lord." Aragorn smiled at him, reaching down to clasp hands with the lad.

"Aragorn, this is my youngest son. Enough staring, Haldor. Now run along and inform your mother of our arrival." With that Haldor was off and Gildor leaned over to Aragorn.

"When we arrive at Carastar, the town will be in commotion and my Araneth will have everything ready for your arrival. Let us wait here for a while so she can organize a proper welcome for you."

Agreeing to the suggestion, they dismounted and let the horses graze for a while. The grass was long and still wet with last night's rain. Aragorn listened to the birds calling to each other and felt relieved to hear friendly tones. He scratched Baranor behind the ears and the stallion pushed his head into Aragorn's chest before joining the other horses who were already ripping out tufts of grass. After what had seemed a very long time, Gildor got up from the log he had been using as a seat. Pulling at the reins to get his horse to lift his head, he called for them to mount again.

Their way became gradually steeper until at last they had to follow a winding path down into the valley. Now Aragorn had a fine view over Carastar. On their side of the river he could see a fortress of stone and pastures beyond it, while there were fields on the other its other side of the river.

Aragorn could only stare. He had not expected something like this in such a place.

"Aye, breathtaking, is it not?" Gildor commented, "this and the river-street when you are coming from the Bruinen are the only ways to the town."

"I expected it to be built of wood."

"This village is an exception and we are proud of it. Before the fall of Rhudaur, all of this," he indicated the valley with a sweeping motion of his hand, "was used as a quarry. Later, they built the fortress against the invading hill-men. It was never discovered, not even in the wars with the Witch-king."

They had now descended into the valley and walked the horses on a little road that ran along the river, through the gates and right towards the centre of the village. The people they passed were clapping their hands, shouting greetings, some where even crying. As he passed, the men presented their spears and the woman threw flowers.

Their love for the Chieftain shone in their eyes, and Aragorn hoped that in time it would become love for him as a man.

They rode slowly towards the center of the settlement, Aragorn reaching down more than once to collect flowers from a little girl. Finally they crossed a spacious square and halted in front of a huge house built, like the other houses, of the red-brown stone that could be found everywhere.

In front of the house they dismounted and Gildor led Aragorn to the doorstep while Hirgon, Baragund and two other men led their horses away. A tall and regal looking woman stepped outside. A smile graced her beautiful face and her grey eyes glistened with moisture. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them.

"Welcome home, Aragorn, welcome home indeed. To have you here again lifts all our hearts. I am your aunt Araneth. Come, let us go inside and I will introduce you to the others."

She left him no time to answer and ushered him before her through the open doorway into a great hall with a very high ceiling. On the wall on the far side was a large fireplace and even though it was very warm outside, the fire was burning. Like the Hall of Fire in Imladris.

In the middle stood a table surrounded by benches. And in front of the table stood the members of his family, or at least a part of it.

Araneth presented him to Arador's widow Ellemir, an elderly yet still very impressive lady with eyes the colour of steel.

One by one, Araneth introduced Aragorn to the others. Ivorwen and Dírhael, many years younger than Ellemir, embraced him joyfully. But the look of disappointment on their faces was clearly visible. Even until now, they had hoped that Gilraen might have come with Aragorn.

His cousins Míriel and Halladan were the last to be introduced. Halladan did not smile. His face showed nothing, he did not even try to be polite. On his left temple Aragorn could see a faded bruise. He extended his right hand to clasp Halladan's, but the other man only stared at him. Angrily Aragorn withdrew his hand again and looked down. As his gaze fell on Halladan's right, he had to fight the urge to step backwards in shock: Where there should have been a hand two crippled fingers dangled. Do not be a fool, Aragorn. You will see such things often enough.

No words passed between them. They stood still for a few seconds, then the moment passed and Halladan turned on his heels, walking away.

"Now then," Ivorwen spoke into the silence that had descended after the abrupt departure, "do not take his actions to heart. He is undergoing difficult times at the moment and is not easy to handle even for those who know him well. Just leave him be."

Aragorn looked after Halladan's retreating figure. No, I will not let you be.

She laid a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, squeezed it, then continued.

"Now to other things. I give you greetings from your aunt Gilmith. She would have liked to come here, but she is unwell and must lie abed. She looks forward to a visit from you, though."

After the greetings, Araneth took Aragorn to show him his rooms.

"You must be tired after the journey and want to rest." She said.

Aragorn would have rather liked to remain in the hall and said so.

"Should I not remain here and give the people outside the chance to meet me? I do not feel the need to rest now."

Araneth, who had already taken a few steps towards the stairs, turned around to look at him. "Now is not the time for further introductions. The people have much to do yet and must not tarry. And you have to unpack your things. Haldor has gone ahead so he can assist you in unpacking your. We should not let him wait."

Aragorn considered gainsaying his aunt, but feared he would offend her. After all, he di not know all their ways.

The two traversed the great hall, ascended the stairs and walked down a long corridor. The dimly illuminated hallway seemed to run the length of the house. To the left, they passed doors that must lead to the individual rooms of the family members and on the right Aragorn could see the hall below through window-like openings.

"As soon as we heard that you would return to us, we began readying your parent's chambers for you." Araneth continued, "it has not been used since your father's death. The chamber has always been the Chieftain's, and so not even we dared to occupy it. It has been waiting for you all theses years."

They had reached the end of the corridor and Araneth opened the door to a large corner chamber. Aragorn had to blink a few times to adjust his eyes to the bright sunshine after the gloomy corridor. She led him through the outer room, apparently a study, into the sleeping chamber.

There they found Haldor standing amidst Aragorn's belongings, holding a familiar scabbard in his hands. He dropped Narsil and stammered an apology.

"I did not mean to pry, believe me, but my mother told me to help you unpack your things. I opened this chest and found the sword. Only when I drew it did I realize what it was. Please forgive me."

Aragorn picked it up and laid it on the bed. "Do not worry, no harm was done."

"But you will get your punishment later, young sir." Araneth admonished her son. "For now, you will help Aragorn with his things. I will leave you now." She turned and walked away.

Aragorn turned to his cousin. "Will your punishment be severe?"

Haldor shrugged. "I do not think so. It will likely consist of extra work in the house. Nothing I could not manage. Now, how can I help you?"

Aragorn looked around. The room was pragmatically furnished and held no personal items.

"All clothing comes in here," he indicated the large chest at the foot of the bed, "you can leave the rest to me."

He placed his pack on the bed next to Narsil, then went into the study, flipped through the books and placed his own books next to them on the shelves. Haldor was soon finished with the clothing and Aragorn let him go. He wandered around the bedchamber, looking here and there, searching his memories for something familiar, even getting on his hands and knees to see it from the perspective of a little child but he found nothing, all was strange and new. In the corner a door caught his eye and he opened it.

The door revealed a dark room and he lighted the candle on the nightstand to have a look. It was tiny and empty but for a chest similar to that in his chamber. He searched for the latch and opened the heavy lid. He could not see much in the pale candle-light except that it contained some kind of cloth. He dug in with his free hand and removed a item - a man's shirt. You were simply put aside to make room for a new Chieftain. Oh father, if I could but remember you! He brought it to his nose and sniffed, hoping it still had his father's scent, but it only held the musty smell of time. He closed the chest, but kept the shirt.

Once in the light, he looked at the shirt again. It was the colour of a dark forest and already well worn. On impulse he removed his tunic and put his father's shirt on. He stepped in front of the polished metal plate and studied his reflection. The shirt was a bit wide at the shoulders and the sleeves were too long.

He flopped on the huge bed and closed his eyes for a while, letting the bright sunlight caress his face. A strange feeling came over him and he found himself wondering how it would have been if Arathorn had not died all these years ago. He could not even begin to imagine how different his life would have been. Ada would not be Ada and his brothers mere instructors. His world would have been this and home would not be so far away. Then, he breathed in deeply and opened his eyes again.

It felt so strange to feel feel something so personal of his father's on his skin. He had spent years wondering about his true father, who was, he had been certain, a great hero and died single-handedly battling dozens of orcs . It was so real now. Even though he had wished for a real father, he did not regret anything in his life. He had conquered the hearts of many elves and for nothing in the world would he give this love away.

"I have to conquer other hearts," he told the ceiling. "Why not begin now?"

His gaze fell on the shards of Narsil and he wondered where best to place them. He did not want to lean it on a wall. It must have been here before. Finally he settled for the mantelpiece in the study.

When he had finished, Aragorn left in order to explore the house. He followed the corridor until he came to another bend. There the corridor opened to a wide light-flooded gallery. On his right were the windows of the hall, he looked down and found it empty. On his left many real windows opened to the street below. He leaned on the the sill of one of them and watched the people below him going back and forth.

He ambled down the the gallery until he reached the staircase to the hall below.

He heard the faint noise of sobbing. It seemed to come from the attic, and so Aragorn searched for the stairs that would lead him up. It took him a while until he found a little door that led upstairs. Here the ceiling was lower and he had to had to duck his head.

He followed the sounds until he reached a door. It was ajar and as he opened it wider, he could see a small form on the bed. A young woman - Aragorn now saw - curled in on herself. What has happened here?

He entered the room and knelt next to the bed. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and she started. Apparently she had not heard him coming. The girl looked at him, fear and confusion clearly written in her reddened eyes.

"Easy, young lady," Aragorn said, extending his hand, and she shied away as if awaiting a blow. "Do not be afraid. I will not harm you. Do you know who I am?"

She shook her head slightly, sniffling once. "No, sir, I know you not."

Aragorn nodded once. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." At this she started, her eyes widening. "But fear me not, I pray you. What is your name? And what makes you so sad that you hide here and cry?"

"My name is Indelin, my lord, sir, and I live here," she answered, gesturing around the small chamber. Then she shook her head. "And you do not need to worry about me, it is nothing, I but miss my parents. I am newly come here and have never before left my home."

"I can understand," Aragorn said, though he was not fully convinced. Her reaction to his approach told an entirely different story. She might be homesick, but that was not the cause. He was sure that there was something she feared and Aragorn felt sadness enter his heart at the thought. "If I can do anything for you, just tell me. I want you to feel well under my roof. Though I am your lord, I will not bite." He smiled to reassure her.

Only then did it hit him what it really meant to be Lord. She is in my keeping and I am responsible for her. And for so many other people. I have the authority to help her. There is so much I can do, but so little that I know. Oh, if I were wiser.

Indelin smiled back at him, then shyly averted her face.

"Where does your family live? Surely you can visit them."

Indelin shook her head and new tears started to fall. She dashed them away with her sleeve. Aragorn sat on the bed and laid a comforting arm round her shoulders.

"No, it is not possible. I lived with my family not far north of the road. The orcs found our village and destroyed everything. Many were killed, my family amongst them. The lady Araneth, in kindness, has taken me in."

"I am sorry."

"It is not your fault, my lord. At first I was angry at the rangers, I accused them of not doing their work. But now I know that, hough they are doing all they can, it is not possible for them to be everywhere at once. I do not blame anyone for my family's death."

"It must have been a big step to realize this."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"And do you like it here?"

Indelin shrugged again and pushed herself away from him. "I am well fed and want for nothing. This is more than many can say." She said in a tone that made Aragorn realize he had gone too far. It was not a good idea to push her when she was obviously not well.

"I repeat. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, I thank you for your kindness, my lord, but there is nothing you could give me now. I will not forget it if ever there should be something."

"Nor will I," he answered, then got up. He would have liked to stay for a while, but the way she had turned away told him that she wanted him gone.

Reluctantly, he opened the door and left the room, closing it behind him. I will find out what is going on.

Instead of going back to his chamber, Aragorn descended the stairs and arrived in the hall. He wondered why nobody was there. Hearing voices raised in a song, he followed them to another room and stuck his head into it. He was in the kitchen and had found his aunt and both his grandmothers sitting at the table, preparing the food.

Aragorn knocked at the doorframe to get their attention. Ellemir turned and smiled at him, but it vanished as soon as it had come. She put her kitchen knife on the table and waved him over. She reached out and touched the shirt Aragorn was still wearing.

"For I moment I thought I was seeing your father. It was his," she said softly, "I made it for him myself so long ago. He never took care of his clothing and often enough he would come home with a ripped sleeve and hand it to me to be repaired. I know every thread and every stitch."

"Do you mind me wearing it? I could take it off if the sight distresses you."

Ellemir shook her head. "No, 'tis nothing. It was only a memory that is now gone. Do not think the women of the Dúnedain weak. Though our hearts may forever mourn him, we are not overcome by this. All his things are yours and you may do with them what you like. And this suits you much better than that elf-clothing. But forgive an old woman her many words. Is there anything you want?"

Aragorn cocked his head to the side. "I went down to see if someone was there, but found the hall empty. I heard your voices and followed them." He took a seat next to Ivorwen. "I would use the opportunity to get to know you better, I even bring two helping hands, if you have need of them,"

Araneth handed him a knife and instructed him how he had to cut the meat. The three women asked him numerous questions about him and his mother, soon making him hold up his hands and complain about their inquisitiveness. The women only laughed.

"Aunt Araneth?" he addressed her after a while.

"Yes, Aragorn?"

"I was wandering through the house a bit and met a girl, Indelin, what does she do in this house?"

"Ah yes, she helps me with the cleaning of the house and the cooking. She is a nice young woman. You said she was in the house? I wonder..." Araneth trailed off.

"Aye, she is. I found her in her chamber, she was weeping."

"Well," Ellemir put in, "the poor girl, she is new here and misses her parents."

"She looked frightened when she noticed me."

Ellemir and Araneth shared a concerned look, then continued to work in silence.

Not long after, Míriel entered the kitchen, her hair braided and her face flushed.

"The men are returning for the midday-break, naneth."

"Ah, yes then let us prepare lunch for our hard workers. Would you be so good as to fetch Indelin, Míriel? She is upstairs." Araneth answered, and Míriel left.

"Where have they been?" Aragorn inquired.

"In the fields, bringing in the last of the crops. They should have been finished days ago."

It did not take long for the men to come, most of whom Aragorn did not know.

One presented himself as Beleg, the husband of Gilmith. Hirgon brought his two sons Ingold and Valacar and his wife Idril with their young daughter Eirien. Many more followed them, men, women, children, until the hall was full. It was noisy and Aragorn talked to many.

"Where is my eldest?" Gildor asked when they had all seated themselves.

Araneth looked at him, surprised. "Did he not go with you into the fields?"

"No, neither did he go with me nor have I seen him there. I know not what to make of it. But if he has no wish to come, we shall leave him. He has never been a great help in such things, anyway."

Araneth did not comment on the harsh remark and they ate in silence. Halladan did not come.

"So Aragorn," Gildor said after he had swallowed the last of his bread, "my wife tells me that you have already seen the house. Would you like to see the town?"

"Aye, I would like that," Aragorn paused, "it is a very intriguing idea to live in a disused quarry."

Gildor laughed, "Yes, it might seem so to a man newly come here, but our people have been living here for generations." He stood up then. "Come now, there is much to see and surely you want to be back before the evening meal."

The sun stood high and it had grown hot as the two of them left the house. Now, there were only a few people in the streets and those were busy doing there work. A few guards greeted them on their way out.

"Most of the people are in the fields right now. You want to see them? Then let us go."

The two took the road in the direction of the river. After a few hundred yards Gildor stopped. They had reached the pastures.

"Here begins the fertile part of the land," Gildor began, "which we use as pastures and, on the other side of the river, as fields."

They continued their way past the animals grazing there towards the fields.

"You have come at the right time for the end of the harvest, Aragorn. Almost everybody is up on his legs to help finish it in time."

"In time for what?"

"For the thanksgiving feast. We have a fixed day on which we have a celebration to honour the Valar for gifting us with the harvest. And it is a much-needed break for our people. We see too few happy days. And of course we will use it to celebrate your return to us."

They walked in silence for a few moments, leaving the pastures with the animals behind them. Finally they reached the river. Here it was broader but shallower and a bridge had been built in order to access the fields. And indeed, Aragorn saw many people working.

After a time Aragorn turned to Gildor and asked. "I have never done this before, but I would like to help them. Do you think it possible?"

The elder smiled. "But of course, Aragorn. It would gladden the hearts of all to see their lord work among them."

~*~

Evening found many people in the hall. Even Halladan was present, sitting quietly before the fire, carving something. Indelin looked as if she had completely recovered and was setting the table with Míriel's help. Some men were present, already sitting at the table and conversing while they waited for dinner to be served. The females seemed to have assembled in the kitchen.

Aragorn went over to the fire and seated himself on the floor next to Halladan, looking into the flames for a moment.

"What is it you are carving?"

Halladan gave him a dark look, but showed him the carving. The piece of wood was in the rough shape of a horse.

"It will surely be beautiful when it is finished."

"How would you know? You have never seen anything of my work."

"No, but I see it in your strokes. I know something about carving, I have been taught by my... the twin sons of Elrond."

"Good for you, I was my own teacher."

Aragorn looked at the two fingers that held the wood while the left hand was holding the knife that worked it.

"How did this happen?" he asked, pointing towards Halladan's right hand.

Halladan stared into the fire. "That is none of your business. But it was nothing heroic."

He threw the figure into the fire and walked off.

Aragorn remained for a while, watching as the horse was consumed by the flames.


Chapter 3 - Feast

We give thanks to the Eru, the One on this day, for in his grace he has given us nourishment. Rain and sunshine in their measure so that all things may grow and flourish.

- The Dúnedain's harvest feast prayer.

Carastar, Yáviérë 2951\r\n\r\n

Aragorn woke slowly, limbs sprawled wide, wondering for but a moment where he was. The springy horsehair mattress supporting him seemed to have no limits as his toes neither pressed against tightly tucked covers nor stuck out into the cold.

He looked out of the open shutters, spotting the familiar sight of Earendil with the Silmarillion as he made his journey across the sky. The animals of the night were still calling to each other, and the air in his room had cooled, the drapes fluttering softly in the autumn breeze. Sighing contentedly, he snuggled closer into the covers. From his position he would have a perfect view of the sun rising. And home lies in that direction. No, my home is now here!

His eyes drifted shut again as he enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment.

Someone knocked sharply on the door. Aragorn's eyes opened and he squinted directly into the sun flooding the chamber through the open window. He sat up, regretting the missed sunrise.

“Good morning, cousin, time to rise,” a cheerful voice called from beyond the door. He thought that he recognized the high cadence.

“I am awake. Come in, if you must, the door is not bolted.” He called.

A few moments later Haldor appeared with an ewer full of water clutched in his arms. “You forgot to fetch the water yesterday, so I thought I would be a good cousin and bring you some.” With a hefty splash, he poured it into the basin, then placed his burden on the table and took a seat on the large chest. “But you have to fetch it yourself next time. We have no servants here, you must know.”

Aragorn gave him a dark look. “Really? Thank you. Without your help, I would never have guessed it.”

“I hope you had a good rest? You slept long.” Haldor continued, a huge smile on his face and not at all intimidated.

“Someone is not in the least inquisitive,” Aragorn countered, getting up and pulling a pair of trousers on. “But if you need to know, I rested well this night.”

“Ah, that comes from the hard work you did yesterday. First the journey and then the fields. You are aware of the fact that everybody has been talking about it? That you worked amongst us meant more than you realize. Some of us feared that you were too finicky after being raised by elves and would not care how we survived as long as food ended up on the table,” Haldor blurted out.

Aragorn looked down on the youth, wet towel in hand. He clenched the cloth in his fist and some of the water dripped on the floor. The last remark stung a bit, but he decided not to comment on it. I will show them that I am one of them and willing to work as they do. “And you are cheeky as well.”

“I am only speaking my mind.”

“So you can surely tell me what is planned for today? We are celebrating the harvest, do we not?”

“Yes, today is the thanksgiving feast. It is an old custom that I think goes back to Númenor. On this day all the village comes together to honour the One for giving us nourishment. And it is a day of joy as well. There will be a lot to eat, music, dancing, singing and the telling of tales. We have all been looking forward to it since the day after last year's feast.” The boy beamed, “You can be sure that you will be the center of attention. It is very convenient that you arrived when you did. I almost wish you had come at some other time, for I would have liked to have two celebrations.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Aragorn answered distractedly while washing his upper body and face, the cold water making him shiver. He shooed Haldor away to access the contents of the chest. When he opened the lid, his eyes fell immediately on the green shirt he had stored there yesterday evening and he stroked the rough material, but eventually he chose one of his own. The cream coloured material the shirt was much finer than his father's. When he looked up, he saw that Haldor had made himself comfortable on his bed. Aragorn frowned at him.

“You know," Haldor remarked, "that if I had so much space at my disposal I would feel like a king. Do you feel like a king?”

Aragorn halted, thinking about it for a moment. “Since you are asking, no, I do not.” He decided to play along. “For one, a king has servants to attend to him rather than cheeky, inquisitive kinsmen who ask too many questions too early in the morning. Come, get up from my bed,” he ushered him out of the room and and closed the door behind them. Realizing that his heart felt much lighter this morning, he smiled. “I think that I am starving. And for another, in order to be a king you have need of a kingdom. It is a sad fact, there is no such thing within few hundred leagues. However, I have become accustomed to the thought of being a Chieftain.”

“It would be an honour for me to help renew the kingdom of Arnor.”

“Yes, but not, I pray thee, before breakfast. Will you lead the way?”

***

After breakfast, the woman busied themselves with cooking and making the decorations, while the men went outside to prepare the square for the festival, setting up many tables and benches for the feast.

Aragorn looked up from fastening a long seat onto legs and asked Baragund, "On the way here Gildor and Hirgon seemed worried. Something about more men?”

Baragund lifted and eyebrow. “More men?”

“Gildor and Hirgon quarreled over the patrols. I do not know if you are the right man to ask, but I think that your answer might give me a clearer picture than I would get from either Gildor or Hirgon. Do you know something about it?”

Baragund drove the last bolt home, then laid his hammer on the table. “Not much. You are lucky to have heard anything, for they tend to avoid each other if it is possible, and when they meet in public they are cool and polite. I am not not a member of the council, and it is hard to say what is going on in the council chamber. But of course one hears things.” Baragund paused for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts. “The two have always had their differences and Hirgon does not like the fact that Gildor has been the acting Chieftain for the past eighteen years. Because he had been your father's best friend and lieutenant for many years, he wanted this office for himself. Most of the captains were of the opinion that it should go to Gildor and so it was decided. Above all they argue about the western patrols.”

“How so?”

“Hirgon wants to draw the men back from the Bree-lands and the Shire to better protect the Angle. Gildor says it is ridiculous to leave them unguarded and that we should remember our old oaths. The problem remains. We do not have enough men to patrol everywhere. Gildor tried to solve part of it by using younger men to patrol the areas closer to the village. This is why we saw Haldor out there yesterday. He is still a child and not yet skilled enough, but Gildor does not see it.”

“He woke me this morning. I found him to be a bright and inquisitive lad and eager to be a ranger. He is only four years younger than me and I have fought with Elrond's sons for more than five years now. He should be fine when he is supervised.”

“So you think it is a good idea?”

“I did not say it is the same for everyone. It depends on the person.”

They placed the bench behind the table and Aragorn looked up. With the help of many hands they had erected all the tables and benches which the woman had already begun to decorate.

A woman with a little child on her hip joined them and curtsied awkwardly. Baragund greeted her with a kiss and turning to Aragorn introduced them as his wife and son.

“Our Círion here has been fussy all morning and I had to scoop him up to prevent him from running into the decorations,” Baragund's wife said. “He is growing heavy, I fear. I have things to attend to and need my hands free. You, on the other hand, seem to have finished. Will you take him for a while?”

Baragund said he would and lifted the small boy high into the air before placing him on his shoulders. Círion squealed with delight and held tight to his father's hair.

“Your son is very charming, Baragund,” Aragorn remarked. “How old is he?”

“Two and a half years and already a little devil. But I love him more than I ever thought possible.”

He reached up and tickled his son who gave a shriek and cried “Ada!”.

They began walking towards the table where jugs of various drinks had been placed.

“Is he your first child?”

“Yes, Círion was born in the second year of our marriage. But it is sad that he has so few comrades to play with. We do not have many children here in the Angle, and people like Araneth and Gildor with their four children are the exception. A part of the problem is that the men are away so often that they do not have much time to produce offspring. They are now thinking of giving married men more time with there families. It sounds reasonable to me, especially because I would benefit from it. Would you support this?”

The situation is so bad? Aragorn could not voice his thoughts on this, though, because they had arrived at their destination and were greeted by a few men already standing around the table and enjoying the refreshments.One-handed, Baragund fumbled with the cord of the mug that hung from his belt and placed it on the table.

“Apple cider for Círion up here,” he announced. The men laughed and Beleg poured some in the mug, then handed it to the boy and made sure his grip on it was secure.

“Are you already practicing for your own little ones? I have heard it is going to be twins, is it not so, Beleg?” Ingold teased him.

“Your wife is pregnant?” Aragorn asked.

“Yes and yes, my Gilmith is pregnant with twins,” Beleg answered proudly. “And you have no right to tease me, Ingold, for you are not even married.”

“Hear, hear,” Baragund voiced his opinion. “Go and do something for our population, instead of teasing those who do.” The men laughed, then stopped as they saw Gildor approaching.

“Ah, there you are, and already enjoying yourselves,” Gildor said by way of greeting as he came up to them. “And Círion as well. Good day, young sir.”

“Good day to you,” the boy replied proudly and laughed, almost dropping his mug. Aragorn took it from him and placed it back on the table.

Gildor laid a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. “I wish to talk to you for a moment.” He led him out of earshot of the others.

“We wish to introduce you formally after the ceremony. Perhaps you could say a few words to our people.”

“But what should I say to them, uncle?”

“What comes to mind. How glad you are to be back and how much you have missed them.”

“But I did not have a chance to miss them.”

Gildor made a dismissive gesture. “That does not matter. Lesson one, tell them what they want to hear and they will be content.”

“But if I want t gain their trust, I cannot pretend something I do not feel!”

Gildor shrugged. “You are an honest person, but very young yet. There are many things you still have to learn, including the fact that sometimes speaking the truth will put you in danger. Or if you reveal too much, you might put others in danger. Not here, but the world is wide and full of perils. Speak what comes to mind.”

Gradually people assembled and took their places on the benches that were arranged in a semi-circle. Gildor led Aragorn to the chair of honour and took his place on the bench next to him. They waited until all had quieted down, then Gildor stood up again and cried in a voice that could be heard by everyone present, “Who has come here and what do you want?”

“The Dúnedain have come here,” Araneth replied and walked regally past the many tables towards her husband, then halted in front of him.“And we want to do honour to Eru, the One for this harvest.”

“And what have you brought?”

“We have brought fruits of the field, Lord.” She turned around. “Bring forth the gifts.”

At this four woman stepped forward, each of them carrying a huge basket in her hands. One contained vegetables, the others fruits and corn, but in the last lay freshly baked bread and cheese. They placed them on the table erected for the purpose and curtsied.

“We give thanks to Eru the One on this day,” Araneth continued, “for in his grace he has given us nourishment. Rain and sunshine in their measure so that all things may grow and flourish. We are thankful for the new lives of our children and beasts. The blessing is not forgotten.”

“And this year we are doubly blessed,” Gildor spoke again, “for returned to us, is a man who has been sorely missed for the last eighteen years. Let us greet our Chieftain and Lord, Aragorn, son of Arathorn and welcome him back amongst his people.”

Now all present began to clap their hands or rap their knuckles on the table while shouting Aragorn's name.

Gildor, who had sat down, tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to stand up. Aragorn's stomach tied itself into a tight knot, his palms felt clammy and his heart hammered as he stood up slowly. The noise died and all looked expectantly towards him. He was only too aware of the fact that he had never given a speech before. It was very quiet. He closed his eyes for a moment and cleared his throat. How could I ever lie to them? Never.

“My dear people, I thank you for the welcome you have given me. It gladdens my heart to be here again and speak to you on this day of celebration.” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “Long have you laboured without me by your side, but now I am returned to where I belong. From now on I will live amongst you, in good or bad, plenty or poor, sunshine or rain, I vow that I will never forsake ye. Long live the Dúnedain.”

All were still for a moment, but then a clear voice shouted, “and long live the Dúnadan!” Others joined in, and soon all were shouting the blessing. It went on for many long moments before the feast could begin.

“Short, but to the point,” Gildor commented after Aragorn had taken his place, “do you see how they delight in every word you speak to them? I counsel you to talk to them whenever an opportunity presents itself. Learn their names, and those of their relatives. Ask them how they are faring and show them that you care for every one. In exchange, they will love you for who you are.”

Many baskets were now brought out and everyone helped themselves. Aragorn bit into an apple and watched Halladan who sat further down the high table. He had not seen his cousin the whole morning. His expression was grim as he ripped his bread into little pieces. The young man presented a puzzle he desperately wanted to solve, but he did not know how.

As Haldor had predicted earlier that day, entertainment followed the meal. Aragorn did particularly enjoy a play that the children of the village had learned and were now proudly performing.

In the late afternoon a singing contest began.

The first performer was an elderly man who had brought a lute with him.

“Dear Lord,” he began, “The Minstrel I am called, but Mardil is my name. Others may be the wielder of swords, but I am the wielder of words. This I can do well with my wooden leg.” The crowd laughed. “What will I tell ye? Now this is the question. 'Tis a new song, never heard before, for I wrote it for this day in honour of our Lord returned and of the harvest.” He strung his lute and began to sing in a clear, deep voice.

Come, sons of summer, by whose toil
We are the lords of wine and oil :
By whose tough labours, and rough hands,
We rip up first, then reap our lands.
Crowned with the ears of corn, now come,
And to the pipe sing harvest home.

Come forth, my lord, and see the cart
Dressed up with all the country art :
See here a maukin, there a sheet,
As spotless pure as it is sweet :
The horses, mares, and frisking fillies,
Clad all in linen white as lilies.

The harvest swains and wenches bound
For joy, to see the hock-cart crowned.
About the cart, hear how the rout
Of rural younglings raise the shout ;
Pressing before, some coming after,
Those with a shout, and these with laughter.

Some bless the cart, some kiss the sheaves,
Some prank them up with oaken leaves :
Some cross the fill-horse, some with great
Devotion stroke the home-borne wheat :
While other rustics, less attent
To prayers than to merriment,
Run after with their breeches rent.

Well, on, brave boys, to your lord's hearth,
Glitt'ring with fire, where, for your mirth,
Ye shall see first the large and chief
Foundation of your feast, fat beef :
With upper stories, mutton, veal
And bacon (which makes full the meal),
With sev'ral dishes standing by,
As here a custard, there a pie,
And here all-tempting frumenty.

And for to make the merry cheer,
If smirking wine be wanting here,
There's that which drowns all care, stout beer ;
Which freely drink to your lord's health,
Then to the plough, the commonwealth,
Next to your flails, your fans, your fats,
Then to the maids with wheaten hats ;
To the rough sickle, and crook'd scythe,
Drink, frolic, boys, till all be blithe.

Feed, and grow fat ; and as ye eat
Be mindful that the lab'ring neat,
As you, may have their fill of meat.
And know, besides, ye must revoke
The patient ox unto the yoke,
And all go back unto the plough
And harrow, though they're hanged up now.

And, you must know, your lord's word's true,
Feed him ye must, whose food fills you ;
And that this pleasure is like rain,
Not sent ye for to drown your pain,
But for to make it spring again.



The audience applauded and Mardil bowed in each direction.

“An excellent performance,” Gildor praised him after the noise had died down. “The other performers will be hard-pressed to match you.”

Ten other people joined the contest, some singing old lays, and others singing their own songs. After the last had finished, all performers stepped forth again and bowed.

“Our Chieftain who, after being raised by the elves,” Gildor began, “surely has a sense of music. My lord, will you, as your first act of your office, proclaim the winner of this contest?”

Aragorn smiled, an idea forming in his mind. “Nay, dear Gildor. I think I will I ask my dear people who pleased them most.”

The people clapped their hands, and shouted for Aragorn to declare The Minstrel the winner. Araneth handed Aragorn a wreath, and as he placed it on Mardil's head, merry, twinkling eyes met his.

***

The flames of the bonfire rose high as the musicians unpacked their instruments and began to play a merry tune, calling many dancers to the centre of the square. Aragorn remained seated, content to watch. A flushed Míriel approached Aragorn and extended a hand.

“You have not yet danced, cousin, we are waiting for you.”

She pulled him out of the chair and he had no other choice but to follow her. She led him to the people that were waiting in pairs for the dance to begin.

“The Tîlagor!” One of the musicians cried and the dancers hooted.

Aragorn leaned down and whispered, “what is going on?”

Míriel laughed. “You do not know the Tîlagor? What did they teach you in Imladris? The musicians have just challenged us. It is a contest between the musicians and the dancers. Their aim is to play so fast that we cannot keep the rhythm.”

They took their place at the end of the row of dancers and Míriel gave him her left hand. Then the music began. At first the music was slow enough to give Aragorn the chance to learn the steps. They were easy to memorize, twice four steps forwards and four back, then hook the elbow with that of the lady and make half a turn. Aragorn began to enjoy himself as the music became faster and faster and the steps more difficult to follow. They whirled around and Aragorn laughed in joy because he felt more alive than he had for many days. Finally Míriel stumbled and he caught her, but they had lost the rhythm. The music stopped. She gave a dazzling smile and dipped her head in gratitude, then curtsied with the other women.

“Victory!” The man with the drum shouted and clapped his hands, “the dancers lose. We are faster than their feet.” The pairs bowed before the musicians in acknowledgment of their craft.

Now more women appeared at Aragorn's side, urging him to participate in a round-dance around the bonfire. They drew him into their midst and he felt accepted and welcome.

When Aragorn ran out of breath, they finally allowed him out of their clutches. He spied the Ingold, Valacar and Baragund standing amongst a group of several men and wandered over.

“You look a bit winded. I took the liberty of fetching your mug and filled it for you,” Ingold said, pressing it into Aragorn's hands. “Did you enjoy the dancing?”

“The maidens he danced with certainly did, for they had only eyes for him.” His brother added with a big grin. “I swear that you made all of them blush, and the older ones no less than the younger. I think you have a way with the women.”

Ingold elbowed him into the ribs. “That was uncalled for. Do not embarrass our Chieftain.”

Valacar held up his hands and laughed. “This day you may blame the ale. Forgive us our behaviour. We will be grim again in the morning.”

I doubt it not. I feel surrounded by grim faces. I wonder what my fate will be. They remained silent for a while, watching the dancers whirling around to the merry tunes and their laughter ringing clear in the autumn night.

“This is what we fight for,” Baragund sighed and made a sweeping gesture that included all the people present. “We fight to provide a safe haven for our families, for the smiles on the faces of our children, for days like this that make us forget, even though it be for but a moment, the evil lurking at our doorstep.” He lifted his cup and nodded towards the others. “To life.”

“To life,” Aragorn returned the toast and drank deeply from the cool ale in his cup.


Chapter 4 - Visit

Carastar, early October 2951


Aragorn woke to ruthless chaos in the dark. A door slammed and someone was shouting downstairs. He up, his heart beating wildly as he remembered the orcs the rangers had killed a few days ago.

He pulled his trousers on, grabbed his dagger and ran barefooted down the stairs into the hall.

Aragorn saw other people emerging from their chambers and heard them following him.

Down in the hall stood only one man, his smiling face almost as dirty as his clothing. The ranger seemed to be wholly unconcerned about the racket that he had just made.

"Welcome back, my son," Araneth called out, and despite all that clung to the young man's filthy clothing, threw herself into her son's arms. "Welcome indeed."

"Aragorn," Araneth said, turning towards him. "This is my middle son Halbarad. Halbarad, this is Aragorn, your cousin and lord."

Halbarad shoved his dark curls out of his eyes and grasped Aragorn's hand resolutely. There was something in his expression that Aragorn could not place, the grey eyes watching him seemed to bore into his very soul. Then Halbarad smiled at him and the moment was gone. Aragorn put his dagger down and clasped Halbarad's arm.

"I am glad to finally meet my august cousin.” Halbarad said. “But why did I not get word that you had returned? I would have come earlier and might not have missed the harvest feast."

"Because you were out on patrol and even this is no reason to desert your post, Master Important." Gildor came up from behind and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

Halbarad yawned. "No, of course not, you have told us often enough that duty must come first. We did not dawdle on our way back and walked on through the night so we would not have to camp on the damp ground only a few miles from here. I will just get upstairs and catch a few hours of sleep." He made for the stairs.

“You will wash yourself before you touch anything clean, do you understand? A bucket is near the fireplace." Araneth said sternly and Halbarad groaned, but halted, dropped his gear to the floor, grabbed the bucket and went outside again, grumbling while he did so. After a moment, Aragorn took the lamp from Gildor's hand and followed him outside. Aragorn noticed that the older man had come to the door and felt more than saw Gildor staring at him and Halbarad.

He leaned against the well and watched Halbarad as he pulled the bucket of water up.

“I thought you might want some light.”

“That is very considerate of you, but I can see well enough in the dark. They claim that I have eyes like a cat.” He heaved the bucket over the rim. “How should I address you? ‘My lord’?”

“You would be the first of my kin to do so.”

Halbarad's face was half in the shadows and Aragorn could not clearly read his expression.

“I would? What do they call you?” He muttered something Aragorn could not understand as some of the water landed on his clothing instead of the bucket at his feet.

“That depends on the speaker. Your little brother seems to be very proud of the fact that I am his cousin, and never ceases to remind us of the fact. Others? Nephew, grandson, or just Aragorn.”

“I am free to pick and choose, then?”

“You might say that, yes.”

“Well, Aragorn it will be, then. I can remember you very dimly from before you left for Rivendell. Even though I had only just turned five when you left, I have the memory of us playing together.” He leaned next to Aragorn and cocked his head to the side.
“You must know that I have an excellent memory and can remember the strangest of things. There was that time when you managed to escape your mother and ran out of the house. For some odd reason nobody noticed until you had made it to the sheep and were happily bleating along with them.” He laughed. “I found it extremely funny, but the adults did not. Do you remember that escapade?”

Even in the sparse light the lamp provided, Aragorn could see the mischievous grin on Halbarad's face. Aragorn felt a smile tugging at his own lips at the image Halbarad's words had provided. Sometimes he found himself missing the memories of the time before he had been brought to Rivendell. All recollections of events and people had disappeared as he began a new life as Elrond's son. Until a few months ago, he hadn't even known that he had ever lived somewhere else than the Last Homely House. And here was one, not much older, who could tell stories of that time. Suddenly, envy overcame him and he shook his head vigorously.

“No, and I am thankful that I do not! Please do not mention such things again.”

Halbarad was silent for a while, perhaps he perceived Aragorn's mood. “I will not, I promise you, if it is your wish, nothing of it will ever pass my lips.” He pursed his lips placed his fore-finger over them. “We will just get reacquainted. If you want to, we can pretend that we have never met before. May I ask you a question?”

Aragorn shrugged. “Do go on.”

“Could you tell me, why did you come rushing down like you were chased by an ogre?”

An ogre? “Because you,” Aragorn waved the lamp in Halbarad's direction for emphasis, “gave me one of the frights of my life. I thought we were being attacked.”

“I did? I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you.” He took his bucket and they went back in.

“I am sure you did not. Tell me, are you always so...” Aragorn stopped himself from using the word egocentric and searched for a word that would not insult him, “talkative?”

“No, only when I come home and find a new friend waiting for me.”

Aragorn shook his head, and despite all, found himself liking the man.

In the hall Aragorn caught sight of Halbarad's discarded pack and carried it upstairs for him. He left him the lamp and wished his cousin a good rest.

Without the lamp, the hallway was almost completely dark and Aragorn blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the lack of illumination. He made his way back to his room and flopped on the bed, sighing deeply and relishing the quiet. Halbarad was certainly a force of nature.

***

The next day Aragorn announced that he wished to visit Gilmith, and Halbarad said that he would accompany him.

The day was sunny and still warm, and many people greeted them as they crossed the square to Beleg's house. Children were chasing each other around the well and a few women watched them while doing some needle-work.

Halbarad knocked at Beleg's front door, and after a little while Beleg opened it. He smiled and gestured them in. Bidding them sit in the main-room, he went to inform his wife of their visit. Soon he came back and said that they could now go to her.

Aragorn knocked softly at the door and opened it at Gilmith's urging. She smiled at the both of them from where she was reading on the bed. She placed her book on the nightstand and patted the space next to her, inviting him to sit..

As he came closer, Aragorn could see that she resembled his own mother very much. The same piercing grey eyes and the same smile. For a moment he felt homesick in this place. He sat next to her on the bed and took her hands in his. They were cold. Halbarad remained standing near the door.

“Beleg said that I could not stay long because you needed your rest, but I at least want to say hello.”

Gilmith laughed at that, a clear, mirthful laugh. “This is very like my dear husband. He is exaggerating, I am but a bit exhausted and so the midwife told me that I should stay abed for a few days.” She placed a hand on her large belly.

Aragorn reached out his hand and let it hover over Gilmith's belly. “May I?”

Gilmith took his hand and laid it on her stomach. At first Aragorn felt nothing, but suddenly something was moving under his hand. A strange feeling overcame him, something that he could not quite explain. It seemed as if he could feel the mental presence of two beings. “This is a wonder,” Aragorn exclaimed, looked up at Gilmith and smiled. “They are indeed two.”

Gilmith nodded, her eyes gleaming strangely. “Your father' son. Now do you have time to stay a bit? I would like to talk to you. And Halbarad, you can as well take a seat. You look as if you were his guard and not his cousin.”

Halbarad laughed, but did as he was bidden.

“Tell me of my sister, is she well? When, do you think, will she come home?”

Aragorn hesitated because he did not know the answer either. “I fear that it will be some time before she is ready to return. She never talked to me about it, not even as I made my farewell.”

Gilmith sighed. “I do not understand why he hesitates. Now that you are here, she has no excuse to stay away. She is by far not the only widow on the face of Arda. The Dúnedain yearn for all their children. Many think that she is being selfish in this. She should just come back; we all miss her very much.”

Aragorn looked down at his hands. Barahir's green stone caught the light and sparkled. He studied it for a moment.

“That may be, but what if she does not want to return? She feels safe in Imladris and is well cared for there.”

Gilmith sighed, her expression becoming sad. “Yes, I do not doubt it, but are not the Dúnedain also able to protect their children? This is her place, as it is yours, Halbarad's, mine, and everyone's you see when you look out of this window.”

“But ultimately, the choice is my mother's.”

“Sometimes, Aragorn, sometimes people have no choices.” Gilmith leaned back against the pillows, her face showing her weariness. “But these words are too dark for this beautiful day and I beg your forgiveness. Is there something you do delight in doing?”

“It is only a fancy, but I can draw and paint relatively well.”

Gilmith's face lightened up at that. “You must show me your works, nephew, I love the fine arts, though we see little of it here.”

“I could not bring my works with me, but I found a little space for my utensils in the hopes that there might be some time granted to me to indulge such things. I will bring them on my next visit and draw you, if I may.”

She laughed. “Of course you may. The next time we see each other, it will be outside. I have been trying to convince my stubborn husband to let be get up, he will have to grant me my wish sooner or later.”

They sat for a while longer until Beleg stuck his head into the room and announced that it was time for Gilmith to rest. She pulled a face.




“Why were you so quiet?” Aragorn asked Halbarad after they had left Beleg's house.

Halbarad shook his head. “It is only something I saw. It disappeared as soon as it had come. You need not trouble yourself.”

Aragorn chose to ignore Halbarad's last words. “You mean foresight?”

“I do not know, maybe, it comes and goes. Some of us have this gift, or course.” Halbarad's voice had lowered until his last words were not much more than a whisper.

“What did you see?”

Halbarad looked into the distance and shook his head again. “You need not trouble yours...”

Something in Aragorn's head shouted a warning. “Halbarad, what?”

Aragorn clutched his shoulders and gave him a slight shake. Halbarad went rigid under the touch and Aragorn instantly regretted what he had done. He let go of the other's shoulders.

“Do not push me,” Halbarad said through gritted teeth.

Aragorn raised his hands in a defensive gesture. I have overstepped the boundary. What has come over me? “I am sorry, I should have known better than to press you. I care for all of you, and I thought that if there is anything, ah, I did not want you to suffer for it.”

Halbarad nodded slowly. “And you must understand that sometimes people want to leave some things to themselves. Just forget it, will you? Now let us not speak of such dreary things, I have to keep up my reputation as a merry man. We have heard about your skill with the sword from the elves. A bit of sparring will surely distract us from our black thoughts.”

They walked in silence towards the training grounds and Halbarad picked up two practice-swords. He handed one to Aragorn and turned around as if searching for something.

“Where is Haldor? My little brother never misses an opportunity to train and at this time of day, he is almost always to be found here. He is slowly developing into a fighting machine. Foes beware once he receives his star.”

“Oh, he got punished by your mother. He touched something he should not have.”

Halbarad's groaned. “Siblings, you should be glad that you have none. And he is not the worst of them.”

“You are speaking of Halladan?”

“Yes, he is someone you do not want to know better. I know that it is not nice to speak badly about other people, but sometimes I think that it would have been better if he had never been born. He seems to be of the same opinion and has already made several attempts to kill himself. And alas, he has enough reasons.” He leaned against the fence. “Only look at his hand. He has been born that way and could never accept it. And then his illness. And whilst my mother would have liked to chain him to the house, my father does not care.”

Aragorn felt his face paling and had to use the post next to him for support. “These are harsh words.”

“But no less true.”

They took up their sword and began sparring. It felt wonderful to go through the familiar moves that had been drilled into him and had use them against a new opponent. Halbarad was a very good swordsman and made Aragorn work hard for his victory. Halbarad's footwork was excellent, though not near as graceful as those of his previous sparring partners in Rivendell. When Aragorn had finally disarmed him, they were both sweating and out of breath.

It was Halbarad who proposed to go swimming in order to cool down. Aragorn volunteered to fetch two towels because it was too later in the year to dry in the sun. He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow, straightened his clothes and returned to the house, while Halbarad headed for the stream. Gildor was there, some papers in front of him. When he saw Aragorn, he smiled. Aragorn smiled back at his uncle.

“So did you have a pleasant morning? I heard you payed my niece a visit,” Gildor inquired, indicating that they should seat themselves at the table.

“Very much, Gilmith is pleasant company. Afterwards Halbarad was so kind as to show me the training grounds. And I was about to fetch towels and return outside to go swimming.”

“A wonderful idea. You look like winded. I hope my son did not bore you, for his words show the simpleness of his mind.” For a moment Aragorn wondered why Gildor called Halbarad simple-minded, but had no time to contemplate this because Gildor leaned forwards and continued to speak.

“But this is not the reason why I bid you sit with me. I have been thinking about your place here, and came to the conclusion that it would be better if you concentrated on your training, getting to know us and learning our ways. I know this is much, and this is why I am of the opinion that the leadership should remain with me until such a time when you have accomplished the other things I have mentioned. You are young yet and there is enough time for you to learn of leadership.” He looked expectantly at Aragorn.

Aragorn had to agree with Gildor. He had been away for a long time and his first duty lay in getting to know his people and their ways. He was young and there was yet much time to learn. “Your advice sounds sound, uncle, and surely you are right. Knowing that leadership rests in your capable hands lifts a heavy burden from my shoulders and I can turn my mind to other things for the time being.”

Gildor smiled again and clapped his shoulder. “Very good that the matter is settled and we understand each other. I would have hated to see you overtax yourself.” He turned back to his papers.

Aragorn leaned over to take a closer look at what he was doing. It turned out that Gildor was working with a map that was pinned to a wooden board. Little red and black pins stuck in various places. Aragorn could easily guess for what they served.

“I gather that these,” he pointed to a red pin, “signify the patrols, and the black ones the latest sightings of the enemy?”

Gildor nodded but did not look up. “Aye, and we are in need of new black pins.”

He took a black pin and pushed it into an area not far away from Carastar, marking the place of the orc-ambush a few days ago.

“After each report I mark them anew and put the board back in its place on the wall in the council chamber. Is there something else you wish to know?”

Aragorn was silent for a while, watching the pins on the map. Finally he looked up and shook his had. “No, not just now. I think I have let Halbarad wait long enough. He will start to wonder were I have gone to.”

Gildor eyes did not leave the report he was reading. “Yes, enjoy your swim and then go and speak to the people.”

Aragorn welcomed the bright sunlight after the gloominess of the hall. Breathing was easier out here and he looked forward to the swim. He shifted the towels and made for the stream. When Aragorn arrived, Halbarad was sittning on the shore, letting stones skip on the water. He smiled up at Aragorn.

“Had I known it would take you so long, I would have gone myself. Surely the towels were not that hard to find.”

“No, they way not. Indelin was so kind as to fetch some. Your father was in and we spoke. We came to the agreement that it would be better if kept the role of the leader so that I have time to get to know everyone and learn what I do not know yet. It seems sensible.”

“And it doesn't surprise me,” Halbarad answered. “In his opinion, no one under forty is not even supposed to touch anything that resembles leadership. So everything will remain as it was. Now let us go and have a swim.” He sripped out of his clothing and was in the water by the time Aragorn had managed to get rid of his shirt.

The water was cool, but not unbearably so. They splashed and dunked each other happily for a while, but before long, Aragorn found himself floating on his back. The sun shone upon them through the canopy of the golden coloured leaves of the stand of trees on the other shore, creating a play of light and shadow.

“I was wondering,” Aragorn said at last, “I was wondering why Gilmith called me 'my father's son' earlier.

“After you confirmed that she is having twins?” He was quiet for a moment. “It is hard to tell for me because I did not know your father very well. But how did you know that there are two children?”

“I was told at the harvest festival. And when I laid my hand on Gilmith's belly, I felt their presence. It was most strange. Maybe my father knew such things as well.”

Halbarad grunted. “I do not know. Maybe, maybe there is another reason.”

“Ah, I just want to better understand my father. I know nothing of him.” He shivered and swam back to the shore. And it was true, for the short time he had now been in Carastar, he had heard much about his father, but the man remained a stranger to him.
------------------------------------------------------------------

Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sat Nov 14, 2026 8:12 pm