Aspects of Aragorn Chapter 2 part 2 "Great Deeds"

[inzilbeth]

 

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 Cairstiona and Estelcontar I offer my most grateful thanks for their ongoing encouragement and support.

 

 

Chapter: 2  part: 2                    “Great Deeds”

 

 

     On they galloped. They had gone about a league when Estel could see a camp fire up ahead and against it, the silhouetted shapes of figures with weapons raised. Riding beside him, Elrohir told him to unsheathe his sword.

 

   “Stay close to me at all times Estel and you will be fine,” he said and smiled reassuringly.

 

   Estel had no time to reply for now the camp was there before them. It was obvious to all three what was happening. A ranger camp had been invaded by a large troop of orcs and the men were struggling to defeat them. As he charged into the battle, Estel could feel the blood pumping furiously through his veins. He was afraid, but his fear was more of disgracing himself and letting down his brothers than of being harmed by the orcs. He had encountered these creatures once during the previous winter, but it had only been a small group and the elves had dealt with them swiftly before he even had a chance to join the battle, much to his disappointment and shame.

 

   But now he was expected to fight. His sword raised, he prepared to use it for the first time in anger. Then as one, the three leaped from their horses and hurtled into the fray, surprising both orcs and men alike.

 

   The noise and the chaos and confusion at first nearly overwhelmed the fledgling swordsman but he quickly gathered his wits and swiftly raised his sword to block a swipe to his head from an orc which seemed to spring up out of nowhere. But as soon as he became engaged in the action, Estel’s training came to the fore. The endless repetitive hours of practice had made his responses instinctive and lightening fast and he found he was able to repel his attacker and block its strikes without too much difficulty and then, when he saw an opening, he delivered a fatal thrust right into the orcs midriff, his sword, for the first time by his hand, biting flesh.

 

   Shocked at the feel and sound of the blade slicing through living muscle, Estel quickly pulled back but he had no time to contemplate what he had done as another orc leaped at him, taking the place of the first. Again he found he could deflect the blows quite competently and when his chance came he sliced at the orc but this time he failed to kill it outright, only wounding it. It squealed in anguish, causing Estel to hesitate before raising his sword again to kill it. But he did not get the chance to deliver the decisive thrust for Elrohir stepped in and beheaded the stricken orc with one perfectly timed swing of his sword.

 

   Then all was quiet suddenly; the last of the orcs were slain and the battle was over. Elrohir turned and smiled at Estel.

 

   “Well done little brother, you had your first orc.”

 

   Estel was breathless and he realised with embarrassment, he was shaking. Elrohir, knowing the significance of this battle for Estel, came and put his hand on his shoulder and said quietly: “Come and sit for a moment.”

 

   But Estel pulled away, looking at the ground, avoiding Elrohir’s gaze.

 

   “I am alright, Elrohir,” he said, desperately wanting a chance to calm his raging emotions away from the eyes of his brothers, no matter how caring and understanding they might be. Also he was suddenly very aware of the men in the camp. They were all about him and one was now approaching to speak to the three newcomers. Elrohir at once understood and turned to face the man, shielding Estel with his back as he did so.

 

   “Welcome, my friends,” said the man, holding out his hand to Elrohir and then to Elladan who had stepped up beside him. “I must say, you certainly know how to make an entrance. I don’t mind admitting that was harder work than it should have been. That’s the second troop we’ve dealt with in the last three weeks. We have not seen so many orcs since before the Battle of the Five Armies. It could be a long winter if this continues.”

 

   “Mae govannen, Dirhael, I’m glad we were of assistance,” said Elladan smiling cheerfully. “You look well in spite of your troubles. Are all your men unharmed?”

 

   “They appear to be, thanks to you three elves. Come, sons of Elrond, I trust you will sit with us and rest a while, I am sure there is much for us to talk about.”

 

   “Gladly will I join you,” said Elladan, “but your eyesight is failing you, my friend, if you think the third member of our party is an elf.”

 

   While his brothers were chatting to the man, Estel stood apart taking deep breaths and willing his hands to stop shaking. He was greatly relieved of have fought his first battle and not behaved shamefully, though he was furious with himself for not having slain that second orc cleanly. He knew Elrohir would have something to say later about the dangers of hesitation in battle. He hoped he had not really needed his brother's help although he could not deny he was grateful for it. But he was very shaken by how breathless he felt after just minutes of real combat. Fighting a sustained battle, he begun to realise would be a very different matter.

 

   His mind was abruptly brought back to his companions as he noticed Elrohir had stepped aside and the man they were speaking to was approaching him, looking at him intensely.

 

   It was an easy mistake for Dirhael to make. The young warrior was as tall as the elves and with his dark hair and deep, grey eyes he could be close kin of the Peredhil. He was dressed in the garb of one from Imladris, but as Dirhael looked at him now he saw he was indeed a young Man, not an Elf. The elderly ranger was suddenly filled with hope that this boy should be the one whose return all his people were longing for. And then his face lit up with joy as he realised he carried the sword of his daughter’s late husband. Elrohir saw the recognition on Dirhael’s face but acted swiftly to prevent him speaking of matters as yet unknown to Estel himself.

 

   “This is Estel, who lives with us at Imladris,” he said quickly. “This year he is spending his first full winter on patrol. I trust he will be welcome to join your watch.”

 

   “He will be more than welcome,” said Dirhael softly, then he turned to Estel and smiled warmly.

 

   “Well young man, it is a pleasure to have you among us. My name is Dirhael; I am the leader of this patrol.”

 

   Estel had now recovered sufficiently to respond appropriately.

 

   “I am very pleased to meet you, Dirhael,” he said, bowing courteously although he looked upon the man with amazement. He was not unlike an elf in height but he was more solidly built and his long dark hair was streaked with grey. And Estel looked with wonder at the lines and wrinkles upon his face which gave the man an aged and weathered appearance that rather reminded him of the rugged hills themselves.

 

   Dirhael took his hand and held it while he looked at the lad, long and hard. Yes, he was Arathorn’s son alright; the long nose and the intense grey eyes, watching him now with evident curiosity, marked him as one of the true line. But he thought also he saw a hint of his daughter’s gentleness and compassion in his pale face. It took a remarkable power of will for Dirhael not to draw the young man into his embrace such was his joy at meeting his grandson again after seventeen long years apart.

 

   “Come Estel and talk with me also,” he said at last. “I would very much enjoy hearing about you.”

 

   Surprised but pleased to be included, Estel gladly went with his brothers to sit by what remained of the ranger’s fire and listen to the exchange of news. As they settled down, the rangers came one by one to join them. Estel looked at them with great interest. They all wore the same dark cloaks, fastened at the shoulder by identical rayed brooches. Some of the men were older, like Dirhael and they all, Estel thought, looked tired and care worn. Coming last, a little behind the others, was one lad younger than the rest who looked much the same age as Estel. He was holding his arm protectively and Estel noticed there was a cloth obviously wrapped in haste around it, in the middle of which was a large red patch.

 

   Estel immediately jumped up to offer his help.

 

   “You are hurt,” he cried, rushing over to the young ranger. “Here, let me see.”

 

   The ranger pulled back with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

 

   “It is nothing,” he said sharply, and went to take his place beside the fire.

 

   Estel however had been instructed in the treatment of wounds by his father and was not about to be brushed aside.

 

   “Do not be so foolish,” he retorted, sternly. “I am sure you know well enough the dangers of orc blades. Do you wish for an infected arm?”

 

   The young ranger looked taken aback and was clearly unsure how to respond. He turned to Dirhael, hoping for guidance. But Dirhael looked intrigued and just shrugged.

 

   “Perhaps you should listen to him, Halbarad,” he said. “You know he speaks wisely.”

 

   Encouraged by this, Estel homed in on his quarry.

 

   “I am well versed in the treatment of wounds,” he said, trying to sound authoritative, “and I have herbs in my pack that will aid in healing.” By now he was sitting beside Halbarad and was starting to unravel the makeshift bandage. The young ranger was stunned into submission and in silence allowed his arm to be examined. Estel asked for water to be heated and Dirhael nodded to one of the men to comply. Estel’s face was grave as he explored the wound; his fingers working skilfully. He ignored the occasional wince of pain from his patient.

 

   “I will need my pack,” he said, looking up at his brothers who were watching him with a mixture of amusement and pride.

 

  “Of course, Estel,” said Elladan, “I will fetch it at once.”

 

  He got to his feet and whistled. In moments their three horses trotted towards the camp. Elladan approached Estel’s bay mare and talking softly to her, untied the pack and brought it over to him. Releasing Halbarad’s arm, Estel rummaged around until he found what he sought. He produced several leaves which he dropped into the water now warming in a pot over the fire. He then carefully bathed the wound, all the while watched by an astonished Halbarad.

 

   “I think perhaps you where right,” Estel said to him as he finished cleaning the injury. “It is not serious and I do not think it will need suturing. It should now heal well and trouble you no further.” He then bandaged it expertly with a linen cloth from his pack.

 

  As he tied the knot he smiled at Halbarad a little shyly.

 

  “Forgive me for being so insistent,” he said, “but you should never be dismissive of wounds no matter how trivial they appear.”

 

  “I shall try to remember that,” said Halbarad, finding his voice at last. “May I ask who you are? We have not met before.”

 

  “My name is Estel. I live with the elves at Imladris.”

 

  “But you are not one of them, that much I can see with my own eyes. Surely you are Dunedain, though I did not know that any of our people dwelt there.”

 

  “There is only my mother and myself.”

 

  “Have you always lived there?” asked Halbarad.

 

  “Most of my life, I believe; I don’t remember living anywhere else.”

 

   Halbarad was too young to remember the death of Arathorn and if he knew the tradition of their chieftain being raised at Rivendell, he had forgotten it at that moment.

 

  But before he could ask another question, Dirhael interrupted.

 

  “You tended Halbarad’s arm most competently, Estel,” he said. “I presume Master Elrond has instructed you in the healing skills.”

 

  “Yes, lord, he has taught me some skills but they are very basic compared to his.”

 

  “Well, if our luck continues as it has, we shall be glad of them I daresay,” said Dirhael. He then turned to speak to a couple of his men.

 

  “Haldir and Galdor, you two take the last watch together. I doubt we shall have further trouble tonight but we should not be without eyes.”

 

 

Elladan and Elrohir talked long with the Dunedain, exchanging news of events the length and breadth of Eriador. The twins purposefully steered the conversation away from Estel but it was clear most of the rangers had guessed who he was. They all treated him respectfully but their curiosity was only too evident to the son's of Elrond. Fortunately Estel was oblivious to the interest surrounding him and for the most part listened in silence, absorbing every detail of what was said, and only speaking to answer questions directly asked of him.

 

   He watched the men in fascination. He had seen the occasional ranger visit Imladris but he had never been allowed to meet any of them face to face before. He knew he belonged to the Dunedain himself but he felt little kinship with these strange, grim-faced Men. In spite of his mother’s efforts, it was inevitable that he had been raised more as an Elf than as a Man and the differences between the two peoples were not to be easily cast aside.

 

    His first impressions of the men sitting about the camp fire were that they appeared quite dissimilar to elves, with their travel-stained, almost ragged, clothing and their rough weather-beaten faces. But as he watched and listened he came to understand they had far more in common than he first realised. It seemed they had the same sense of decency and justice as the Firstborn and their determination to defeat their enemies, if anything, surpassed even that of the elves.

 

   Estel had studied the history of the Northern Dunedain and knew of their past alliances with the Elven realms but he could not be expected to comprehend quite how hard and difficult the lives of that once great people had become. He did not know that they were now so few that they had little hope that Sauron could ever be destroyed. That hope, such as it was, centred on vague dreams of their chieftain one day restoring their former kingdom and leading them from the shadows. Then with their power and dignity renewed and, perhaps allied with their neighbours, the Dunedain might hope to challenge Sauron, as Elendil had done nearly three thousand years ago. So it was that while Estel looked upon the men with genuine but detached interest, the men studied the eager, fresh-faced lad, so young but so full of promise, with a growing sense of joy and hope welling in their hearts. Could this boy possibly be the one to change their fortunes at last?

 

~oo0oo~

 

   In the morning, the patrol packed up and headed north. The rangers and the sons of Elrond suspected the orcs were issuing from the hills around Mount Gundabad and a decision was made to rout them out before they came any further south and threatened the Dunedain settlements in the lands to the north of the Shire. Swelled by the newcomers from Imladris, the patrol was now one of ten members in total.

 

   As they rode, Estel at times made an effort to converse with the rangers nearest him but at first he found it very difficult to talk naturally. He was unsure of what to say and so became shy and awkward and soon tended to only speak when spoken to. He was very polite and proper, as he had been raised to be, but his Westron was of the rather archaic form rarely spoken by elves which meant at times he had difficulty understanding the Men. Those that could, switched instead to Sindarin for which Estel was very grateful.

 

   After a while he found he naturally gravitated towards Halbarad. Although, as Estel soon found out, he was a year younger than he, this was his second winter on a full patrol. Halbarad had discovered from the other rangers exactly who the newcomer was and he had been amazed to find that the lad himself had no idea of his ancestry. The result was that he felt emboldened in the presence of his young chieftain and chatted freely with him in an uninhibited manner that might have otherwise proved beyond him. So it was that friendship slowly grew between the two young warriors and, after his initial reluctance, Halbarad also welcomed Estel’s attention to his injury, appreciating as he did the skills that the young man clearly possessed. Estel insisted on checking the wound daily for the first three days after they left the camp. As he predicted the wound was healing well and so he soon left the care of it to Halbarad himself.

 

   In a couple of days the patrol reached Fornost. Estel was disappointed to find it nothing more than yet another decaying ruin; rings of long-broken stone now covered with moss and grass. So this was all that remained of what was once the capital city of the Dunedain. The sun was setting as they rode passed the site and, in the grey light of early evening, the place had an eerie feel to it; Estel was not surprised that it was known now as Deadmen’s Dike and shunned by most people. But he found he was greatly moved and saddened by the place though he could not say why.

 

~oo0oo~

Comments

[lissas-elves.livejournal.com]

I like your style, Inzilbeth; straight and to the point. It makes for a good read. :-)

Estel - hope: It must have been terribly hard for Dirhael that he was not at liberty to recognize the boy.

And the Dúnedain would indeed seem strange and rugged to one who'd been raised among the beautiful Elves. I wonder if he'll obtain some feelings of kinship on this patrol, or whether they will take years to develop?

*off to read the next chapter*

[inzilbeth-liz.livejournal.com]

Thank you Lisser.

It's easy to forget sometimes that Aragorn had other kin, including his maternal grand parents, who sacrificed watching him grow up. I'm sure Dirhael must still have been around at this time and was no doubt delighted to meet his grandson again.

The Dunedain must have seemed very strange at first and I too wondor how long it took for him to really feel he belonged with them.

[meckinock.livejournal.com]

Ah, so Aragorn meets Halbarad! Yay - fangirly squee.

Dirhael is the one who really got to me, though. What a shock it must have been to encounter this tall young man whom he last saw as a toddler - and to not be able to embrace him and identify himself as his grandfather. My heart just broke for him. And Estel's reaction was so realistic - he's never seen an old person before! Or any male member of his own race, for that matter (Poor kid, he has a lot of socialization to catch up on) and here he is surrounded by them. It's good that he found a friend his own age to help him make the adjustment.

[inzilbeth-liz.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it was just too tempting to include Halbarad here! I rather liked the idea of making them friends right from the off. If you are interested, I posted the 'Halbarad' chapter on the aragornangst group [message 25104] though it will come here eventually. It's chapter 25!

It must have been so hard for Aragorn's relatives to miss seeing him grow up and I'm very pleased Dirhael's reaction worked for you. Yes Estel has a lot to catch up on! It's a real credit to those who raised him that he turned out the well balanced man he did.