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inzilbethJust why did Aragorn miss that feast?
Disclaimer: No profit will be made from these stories. All quotes from the works of J.R.R.Tolkien are reproduced here without the permission of The Tolkien Estate or New Line Cinema. No copyright infringement is intended.
To Cairistiona and Estelcontar: my most grateful thanks for their ongoing encouragement and support.
And thanks to Cairistiona for the beta.
Chapter 26: The Sons of Elrond
To his surprise Frodo saw that Aragorn stood beside her; his dark cloak was thrown back, and he seemed to be clad in elven-mail, and a star shone on his breast.
Many Meetings The Fellowship of the Ring
Aragorn looked at the garments laid out carefully on his bed. The elven-mail was ancient; it had probably seen battle in the Second Age, if not the First, but in the pale light of early evening, its mithril rings glistened as brightly as if it had been made but lately. He ran his fingers over the intricately woven metal; the craftsmanship was unbelievable. Beside it lay a shirt made from the finest soft leather. It too was centuries old, but it was still supple and pliant from meticulous oiling and care. The tunic was newly made; the collar and cuffs decorated with exquisite embroidery, stitched he knew, entirely by the hand of his beloved.
Arwen had been most insistent that he dress according to his status for the feast tonight. He had declined to argue that in his travelling gear he felt he did just that. He was Chieftain of the Dúnedain, nothing more. As a child he had often been attired as an Elven princeling, as befitted a foster son of the Lord of Imladris, but after so many years as a humble Ranger, blending unseen into the landscape of Middle-earth, he was more comfortable now in plain browns and greens than the finery preferred by the Elves. Nowadays it was only his boots that betrayed his Elvish connections. The cobbler of Rivendell kept him well shod and, on his long journeys, he was ever grateful for the comfort of his well fitting, leather boots.
With a sigh of acceptance, he shed his robe and reached for the leather shirt that was worn next to his skin. It fitted him perfectly. Next he donned the tunic. It was unlike anything he had worn in a long time, but he esteemed it the most, knowing the affection that had gone into every stitch. He then struggled into the mail, but once it was secured, he found it to be surprisingly light and easy to wear. Finally, to his breast, he pinned his silver brooch, the Star of the Dúnedain, the sole concession to his own heritage.
Suitably dressed for the evening, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The Elven-warrior looking back at him was a stranger. Arwen, in the four days he had been home, had tidied him up considerably. His hair was now combed and cut, and his beard neatly trimmed. Cleaned, and refreshed from some much needed sleep, he barely recognised the man gazing back at him. He wondered, rather fancifully, if kings were always expected to dress in such a manner or would the lord of the realm be permitted to wear whatever he desired.
He smiled at himself for allowing his thoughts to run away with him. He was not a king yet and no good would come of indulging in day dreams; not when such a seemingly hopeless task still lay before him.
He turned away from the mirror. He was actually rather looking forward to tonight’s feast. Thoughts of the fare awaiting him at Rivendell had sustained him on many a bleak journey and this latest one had been no exception. For a few hours tonight he intended to put away his cares. The Hobbits and the Ring were safe within the bounds of the Elven refuge and, at least for the moment, they were not his responsibility. He still shuddered when he thought how close they had all come to disaster. Without that fortuitous meeting with Glorfindel, they would never have reached the Ford in time. Even so, Frodo’s condition had still caused grave concern for several more days, but now, thankfully, he seemed to be recovering from his wound well enough.
Aragorn’s relief at this encouraging turn of events left him feeling more hopeful than he had been for some time. Since arriving in Rivendell, he had also managed to spend a few happy hours in the company of Arwen, cherishing as ever the short time they had together, her presence succouring and restoring him like that of no other. But a major factor contributing hugely to his more relaxed mood was that Gandalf had been waiting for them when they arrived. Aragorn’s burden was eased enormously on finding his old friend safe and well.
Although he expected to leave again tomorrow, following Elrond’s meeting, for tonight, at least, he intended to celebrate and enjoy the delights of his father’s table. He was for once planning to sit openly beside his lady among the lords of Imladris and the many guests who had been arriving in Rivendell over the past few days. Dwarves from Erebor had arrived that very afternoon; Bilbo had already introduced him to the legendary Gloin. Also there were Elves from the Havens; emissaries of Círdan, as well as King Thranduil’s son, Legolas, who had come all the way from Mirkwood.
He was looking forward to a pleasant evening meeting old friends and making new ones.
He was about to leave his room and make his way to the feasting hall when a message was brought to him; Elladan and Elrohir had returned from the wilds and wished to speak with him at once. Aragorn was relieved to hear they were back. When Elrond had sent out his greatest warriors against the Nine, his sons had elected to head south-west to strengthen the defences of the Dúnedain guarding the southern border of the Shire. Aragorn was hoping they would have some news of his men stationed at Sarn Ford. They were never far from his mind and he was well aware he would have joined them had it not been for the necessity of urgently searching for the Ringbearer instead.
Aragorn grabbed his old cloak and went looking for the twin brothers. He found them walking up the path on their way back from the stables and embraced them both in joy that they looked well and were clearly unharmed.
“You have impeccable timing, my brothers,” he said, grinning at them both. “A great feast is about to begin. If you hurry you will not miss the first course. I forget exactly what it is; Arwen did regale me with the full menu earlier this afternoon, but I’m sure you would not wish to miss any of it.”
“I am sure we would not, Estel,” said Elladan levelly, but something in his voice caught Aragorn’s attention and, suddenly remembering the urgency in the message, he immediately felt a dull stab of fear.
“What is it?” he asked. “You wished to speak with me. What has happened?”
“Come inside to father’s study,” said Elrohir, taking his arm and guiding him towards the door of the house. “We bring news you may wish to hear at once.”
All thoughts of his supper forgotten, Aragorn was willingly led back inside.
“But tell us of yourself first,” said Elladan as they climbed the steps to the main entrance. “We have so far only gathered the sparest details of all that has happened in our absence. We understand the Ringbearer is here, but injured. That is all we know.”
“Well then let me put your minds at rest at once,” said Aragorn. “The Ringbearer is recovering from his wound, thanks to Elrond’s skill, though it was a very near thing. The Black Riders pursued us from Bree and stabbed Frodo on Weathertop when five of them attacked our camp.”
“What!” Elladan stopped in his tracks, his horror plainly written on his face. “You mean to tell me you confronted five of the Nazgûl alone?”
“No, Elladan, I was not alone. I had four hobbits with me.” Aragorn was impatient to hear what news the twins so urgently bought for him and had no desire at all to dwell on the events of that terrible night.
“The hobbits no doubt were a great comfort, but Estel, you could all have been killed,” said Elrohir. “However did you evade them?”
Realising he was never going to hear their tidings until he had told his tale, Aragorn sighed and gave the briefest account he felt he could get away with.
“You obviously know even less of hobbits than I,” he said. “I don’t believe the Wraiths expected to be resisted so strongly. Even Frodo stabbed at the Witch-king though he only succeeded in cutting his cloak.” Aragorn watched with satisfaction as his brothers’ eyebrows shot up. “The Wraiths then withdrew and in the morning we were able to evade them.”
“Surely you didn’t bring the hobbits all the way from Weathertop along the
“No, I took them south and cut through the Wilderness.”
“With five Wraith’s on your tail?” asked Elrohir in amazement. “That can not have been an easy journey!”
“It was not. I have never cared much for that barren place at the best of times,” said Aragorn as he thought of the long stretches of wasteland where they could easily have been attacked as they made their way from one clump of stunted trees to the next. “It was a miserable journey.”
Aragorn really did not want to recall that first day after Weathertop. He had been beside himself with worry for Frodo and fear that the Ringwraiths would at any moment be upon them again. He had done his best to keep his own terror from his small charges lest it undo them completely, but the events of the night before had left them all feeling defeated and heavy hearted. They were all desperately tired the following morning and the hobbits had been exceptionally quiet that day. All he could remember was the rhythmic thud of the pony’s hooves as he plodded along steadily behind him. Frodo had barely been able to stand so they had put him up on Bill. He had sat hunched up with his eyes closed for much of the way, his face grey and drawn. Rivendell and Elrond’s care had seemed an impossibly long way away. The only glimmer of hope that had kept him going was the possibility that Gandalf had been at Weathertop before them and might at that very moment have been trying to bring them aid.
Aragorn suddenly realised both the twins were staring at him intensely. He knew exactly what they were searching for.
“No,” he shook his head. “I have been pronounced free of any sign of the Black Breath, so you have no need to concern yourselves about my well being. I travelled many miles the night after the attack, both searching for athelas and for signs of the Nazgûl. Fortunately, I found the one and not the other, though I was unable to do much to ease the Ringbearer’s suffering. We eventually reached the
He had shamelessly used his ‘Chieftain of the Dúnedain’ voice to silence them. He never ceased to be amazed by how remarkably effective it always was. Satisfied that the discussion had well and truly ended, he strode on purposefully down the corridor to Elrond’s study. As he opened the door, he turned and gave his foster brothers a small apologetic smile as he disappeared inside.
The room was empty as everyone was at the feast, but, nonetheless, a fire burned welcomingly in the grate. The sons of Elrond entered the room right behind him and immediately strode towards the fire and began warming their hands. Aragorn stood in the middle of the room and waited patiently for them to speak.
At last, Elladan turned to face him. “Estel, we have been with the Rangers at Sarn Ford.” His fair face looked grim and Aragorn at once saw the sadness in his eyes.
He felt dread settle like a weight in his stomach. He had seen that look on far too many occasions in the past.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
“I’m afraid we arrived too late to be of any help to them. The Nazgûl had already been there.”
Aragorn felt as if he had been punched in the chest.
“What happened?” The question caught in his throat and as it left his lips, Aragorn was sure he already knew the answer.
It was Elrohir who broke the news. “Apparently, they were confronted by all nine of the Ringwraiths at once. The Rangers made as brave a defence as they could, but they were unable to withstand such an attack. It must have been terrible for them.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing when he saw the horror appear on Aragorn’s face. “I am sorry, Estel, but three of them did not survive.”
“Who?” asked Aragorn simply, his voice tight with the effort of suppressing the sudden pain that had seized his heart.
“Halmir was the first to fall. It was he who challenged them. Then Dagnir and Baragund, both of whom came to his aid, were slain with him. But such was the dread the Nine unleashed, eventually the remainder fled in terror. Had they stood their ground, they would have fallen also. The Ringwraiths can not be gainsaid.”
Even though he had dreaded this news, Aragorn was stunned with grief. “I should have been with them,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “They knew not what they faced.”
Elladan came to stand beside him and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He spoke gently. “Estel, I doubt it would have made any difference if you were there or not. The Rangers stood between the Nazgûl and the Shire. They were determined to enter at any cost and would have slain to the last man any who stood in their way. Had you been there, you would have fared no better and who then would have come to the aid of the Ringbearer?”
Aragorn bowed his head for a moment and closed his eyes. He loved his men, each and every one of them. The deaths of any of his Rangers cut him to the core. He could well imagine the horror they had endured. He had been fortunate when he had faced the five Wraiths on Weathertop. They had retreated because they believed their work to be done; the Ringbearer was wounded and they could bide their time. But the Nazgûl would have been totally ruthless against his Rangers. The faces of the slain men stared at him in his mind; he could picture their wives and families and in great sorrow, he imagined them learning the fates of their loved ones.
But he could not dwell on this loss now. Long ago he had learned how to contain his grief; to stow it away for the right time and place when he could take it out again and mourn properly, as his aching heart desired. Now was not the right time; there was still too much that demanded his full attention, too much was still at stake and many more lives would be lost before the coming war was over. He raised his head and, in a voice devoid of emotion, he asked: “Do you have any other news?”
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Date: 2009-01-12 12:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-12 01:02 pm (UTC)