Aspects of Aragorn Chapter 2 part 3 "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: 3                    “Great Deeds”

 

 

   One evening, about a week after the orc attack, the Rangers’ path crossed that of a well known deer trail. Estel had done no hunting since joining the rangers and so Dirhael decided this was a good opportunity to test his grandson’s skills. As the Rangers made camp nearby, Dirhael went over to talk to him.

 

   “Estel, what say you and I go and find some venison for the pot?”

 

   Estel jumped up eagerly. He loved tracking though it usually left him frustrated that he was never as good at it as the elves. He and Dirhael left the camp on foot taking their bows with them to have a closer look at the trail.

 

   The North Downs had largely turned to forest in the long years since they were grazed by the sheep flocks of the Dunedain. The hills were now a mix of woodland and open country where moor and bare rock cut into the forest breaking it into separate stands of trees. The deer trail lay between two particularly tall outcrops of rock, the height of which forced the deer to move between them when roaming the forest. There the two hunters found a number of deer slots, some of which did indeed appear very fresh. From the sharpness of the imprints, Estel reckoned the deer had passed that way only a matter of hours earlier.

 

   “Well, how many do you think there are ahead of us?” asked Dirhael, squatting to look more closely at the tracks.

 

   Estel took a time to answer. He wanted to get this right but when he finally replied he did so with conviction.

 

   “There are nine deer, four calves and a stag. The stag is full grown.”

 

   Dirhael was surprised. “I confess I can only commit to seven deer and three calves although I agree with you about the stag,” he said. “Are you sure Estel that you have read the signs aright?”

 

   Estel looked again, suddenly doubtful and it was many moments before he spoke. When he did, he was certain of his answer.

 

  “I will stick with my reading,” he said, shy at contradicting the leader of the patrol but nonetheless confident about what he had seen.

 

  “Well, would you like to lead the way,” said Dirhael, gesturing for Estel to follow the trail. “There is only one way to be sure.”

 

  At first the trail was very clear and Estel followed it with ease, moving as the Elves had taught him, nearly soundlessly through the forest. He was soon aware that his companion behind him was not as quiet as he. After about a mile the trees gave way to a large rocky outcrop and the trail ended.

 

   “Well that looks like the end of it,” said Dirhael. “Tracking them over this bare rock will be extremely difficult.”

 

   “I believe I can still see some signs,” said Estel, kneeing down, examining the smooth surface of the rock. He got to his feet and scrambled over the boulders. He had not gone far when he indicated for Dirhael to follow. On he went over the bare crags until he came to the woodland above. There clearly seen in the thin damp soil were the slots of many deer.

 

   “I do not think they are far ahead,” he whispered.

 

   Crouching low, they crept through the belt of trees and there, deep within the forest could be seen the herd, quietly browsing, oblivious of their pursuers.

 

   Carefully Estel and Dirhael counted their quarry. There were nine deer, four calves and an enormous stag with a full head of antlers.

 

   Dirhael grinned at the lad and then motioned for him to look to his bow. Estel understood and silently notched an arrow. He carefully studied the group ahead of him. He knew better than to kill a hind with a calf at foot and he certainly did not want to bring down the stag. At last he saw what he was looking for, a young buck about half grown. He waited patiently for the beast to walk more clearly into his sights and then he swiftly let his arrow fly. It found its mark and the young deer dropped like a stone. Instantly the rest of the herd was gone, a mass of bouncing white tails as they leaped away, vanishing into the forest.

 

   Estel raced to check on his kill. The buck was dead. It was a beautiful creature and as he laid his hand on its warm fur, he felt a moment of pity for the animal. Then he pulled a short rope from his belt and bound its legs.

 

   “That was a good shot, young Estel,” said Dirhael, joining him, “and a good choice of kill. Anything larger and we would be hard put to carry it back.”

 

   As it was they were both tired by the time they returned to the camp. Elladan came out to meet them and help with carrying the beast. He had been most concerned when he found that Estel had disappeared into the forest with just one man for company. But on hearing Dirhael’s tale he reminded himself once again that the boy was not a child any longer. If he was going to learn, they had to allow him some scope to test himself and that might mean facing dangers and making mistakes, though he was pleased to admit, Estel had not made too many of those so far.

 

   That night the patrol gladly dined on a venison feast and Dirhael generously told the tale of how their newest recruit had bested him on the trail. Estel flushed with embarrassment at the gentle ribbing he received but that evening he found he was more at ease in the company of the rangers, and for the first time, he began to feel as if he belonged among them.

 

~oo0oo~

 

   It was to prove a long and hard winter.

 

   The northern reaches were bitterly cold and the small group of warriors was beset with troubles. The rangers mainly patrolled the western foothills of the northern peaks of the Misty Mountains. Here they worked hard systematically routing out nests of orcs.  The numbers were not large but in the rugged highlands they had plenty of cover as well as the advantage of being on their home territory. The patrol had to be exceptionally vigilant; malicious eyes followed them where ever they went and stray arrows from hidden archers were a constant danger.

 

   The skirmishes with the Enemy were intense but brief. But whereas most members of the patrol looked upon killing orcs as just part of a day’s work, for Estel each bout of fighting was a supreme challenge, a test of his nerve as much as his skill. Of the other Rangers, only Halbarad was in a similar situation and he at least had one season’s experience behind him. But Estel learnt quickly and soon began to feel he was earning his place on the patrol.

 

   For the most part he enjoyed his first full season as a warrior, especially once he began to make friends among the men and relax in their company. The constant cold and the sometimes less than inviting food had taken a little getting used to after the comforts of home, but Estel accepted the hardships as being an unavoidable part of life on patrol.

 

   Halbarad, it soon became clear, had taken it upon himself to be Estel’s unofficial guide. He explained any peculiar words or sayings used among the Dunedain as well as informing him of the entire life history of everyone in the patrol. He also made it his mission to tease Estel at every opportunity, something for which the serious, elven-raised young Man was at first ill-equipped to deal with. The result was that Estel was not sure for a long time if he could believe a single word the young ranger said to him. After a couple of weeks however he began to get the measure of Halbarad’s sense of humour and started to retaliate in kind.

 

   His confidence also grew as it became clear that, young though he was, his sword skills were a match for any of the Men in the group and after the incident with the deer, none questioned his tracking abilities.

 

 

   February was gone and March blew in like a howling warg. The patrol had scoured the foothills of the Misty Mountains from the High Pass to Carn Dum and was now heading south again towards the Ettenmoors, the craggy uplands to the north of the Mitheithel River. The Ettenmoors were as bleak and uninviting as any place they had been that winter and Estel shivered as they rode into the hills though none of the patrol seemed at ease. They had not ridden far before Estel noticed that Elladan and Elrohir had discreetly positioned themselves so as to be on either side of him.

 

   “There is a strange feel to this land that I little like,” he said quietly to Elladan. “What lives in these hills?”

 

   “This is troll country,” replied Elladan, never taking his eyes off the hills about them. “These hill-trolls are large and dangerous Estel. Their hides are extremely tough and so they are difficult to kill. You must stay close to us at all times.”

 

   Estel nodded. He knew he had proved himself sufficiently by now that his brothers would not be this protective without good reason. He looked about him, expecting to see huge beasts waiting to pounce behind every boulder. Although it was usual for the rangers to purposefully seek out their enemies, they rarely hunted trolls in their own land. They rode on all day hoping to pass through the hills without incident. But as they rode, the hills on either side of them rose higher and drew closer together taking them into a narrow ravine. All were watchful and alert, aware this was a place they would rather not be.

 

   They had nearly reached open country again when suddenly the peredil halted their horses and Estel noticed his mare was trembling. He instantly withdrew his sword and the air rang with the sound of the others doing the same. Then all was quiet again; everyone straining their eyes and ears to their limits, listening intently for the slightest sound and watching for the smallest movement. But there was no sound at all.

 

   Suddenly the silence was shattered by a might roar from somewhere in the hills above and boulders began hurtling down the slopes towards them. The horses screamed in panic and several riders were thrown. The patrol could not hope to retreat through the storm of rocks crashing about them.

 

   “Take cover!” shouted Elladan, leaping from his horse and grabbing at the reins of Estel’s mare. Estel had at first frozen in shock but now he moved swiftly, jumping down to his brothers.

 

   “Let the horses go!” screamed Dirhael. It was a wise decision. They were too wild with fear to be held and running free they might escape the clutches of their attackers. The members of the patrol tried to flatten themselves against the sides of the ravine to avoid the storm of boulders which continued to rain down upon them. One ranger did not move fast enough and was knocked off his feet by a well aimed rock. Then it seemed to Estel that the ground shook all about them and in an instant, huge beasts were there in the ravine with them. Estel watched in horror as the monsters proceeded to brutally trample the fallen ranger. But there was nothing anyone could do to help him as the trolls were now coming to slay the rest of them.

 

   The patrol sprang into attack. How many trolls there were it was impossible for Estel to say. He only knew that they felt very outnumbered and in grave danger. The trolls were huge, probably at least twice man height and immeasurably strong. Their only weapons were crude clubs which they used as both shield and cudgel. But it hardly mattered that their weapons were primitive for their size and strength was enough to daunt even the most experienced ranger.

 

   Elladan and Elrohir charged ahead of Estel, lunging at their attackers. Their elvish blades found their mark but the trolls did not fall. Estel soon found himself battling hard beside them. Trolls he quickly discovered, move more slowly than orcs so he could out wit them easily but none of the blows he landed seemed to lessen the ferocity of the attack; even wounded the troll he was fighting just kept lunging back at him more aggressively than ever.

 

    Soon Estel felt his strength waning. He was not yet full grown and did not possess the strength and stamina of a mature man. He could not take his eyes off his attacker but he sensed that all his comrades were engaged in similar battles of their own; there was no one to help him. He could hear his own breathing even above the noise of the battle as his lungs fought for more air. His arms felt heavy and he knew he was not moving his feet as much as he should. He could almost hear Glorfindel scolding him. He realized if he did not think of something soon, the troll would claim him. His back was to the craggy hillside now; he could retreat no further. He was trapped. But from somewhere deep within him, he found a last surge of energy and he leaped onto the boulder behind him. From that vantage point he summoned all his remaining strength and thrust his sword deep into the neck of the troll, killing it instantly. He had just enough presence of mind to maintain his grasp on the sword as the beast fell away from him, crashing heavily and causing the ground to quake.

 

   Gasping and shaken, Estel was done in but he could not rest for the battle still raged on about him. Sweat ran into his eyes and clouded his vision but he could see enough to know that, although several trolls had now been felled, some of the men had also fallen. He could see his brothers, battling tirelessly in the midst of the fray. Then he looked for Halbarad and saw him struggling much as he himself had done. Wiping his sweaty palms on his cloak and taking a deep breath, he prepared to dive in to offer whatever help he could. Then to his horror, he saw Halbarad stumble. Without hesitating Estel flew at the troll, his sudden and vicious attack giving Halbarad enough time to quickly scramble to his feet. Together they then strove against the beast but even with two of them it was still an incredible struggle as strength died in them both and neither was able to find the decisive strike. Eventually between them they messily slaughtered their foe and when Estel looked around this time, he saw that the battle was virtually over.

 

   He stood there head bowed trembling with exhaustion and gasping for breath when, without any warning, he found he was locked in the embrace of Elladan. His foster brother wrapped his arms tightly around him, softly repeating his name, so thankful was he that the lad was safe. Estel, who by now was swaying on his feet, gladly lent against Elladan, grateful for the support. But he could not know of the haunted memories swirling through the mind of the son of Elrond; of a day twenty-three years ago that he would never be able to forget. Elladan could still hear Arador’s stricken cries even now and as he held his grandson in his arms, he wondered whatever had possessed him to come this way and expose the lad to the same danger. It was many minutes before Elladan was able to release his little brother, slowly opening his arms and stepping back to look at the young man.

 

   “I saw what you did,” he said, forcing a smile. “I am so proud of you.”

 

   Estel could not reply. He was still too shaken.

 

   “Unfortunately I fear not all our friends fared so well,” continued Elladan. “Stay here with Halbarad while I see what can be done.”

 

   Estel just nodded absently and turned to look for Halbarad. He was leaning on the rocks behind him and looking as shattered as Estel felt. Estel went over to him.

 

   “Are you hurt?” It was all he could think to say.

 

   Halbarad shook his head. “Nay, but I think others have taken grievous hurt.” He gestured with his head and Estel looked towards the carnage behind them. There were six trolls lying there; great hideous mounds of grey hide, barely distinguishable from the boulders about them. Nearby, some of the men were sitting on the ground, heads bowed; a couple were just standing, devoid of purpose. One, Estel noticed, was weeping. There were two men lying on the ground. They were very still and Elladan and Elrohir had covered them with blankets though no one was attending them.

 

   Estel started to wander over, wondering if he could be of any help. No one stopped him as he made his way to the first man. But even as Estel pulled back the blanket he knew the man would be dead. It was Galdor.  Estel looked in horror at the white face and the staring eyes, so full of terror and pain. The man’s arm had been severed at the shoulder and he had been mercilessly trampled to death. Estel choked and dropped to his knees. He knew he was going to be sick but he did not care. Galdor was his friend; an older Ranger who had been kind to him and told him not only stories of his past adventures but also of his home and family as well. Estel could not even begin to accept what had happened here. This was his first taste of death and it was bitter.

 

   Elrohir came and sat beside him; he knew there was no point in protecting Estel from any of this. The man had died a horrible and agonising death, but this was the reality of life on patrol in Eriador and Estel had to see it. He needed to know that being a ranger was not all tales around the campfire reliving heroic deeds. Elrohir did not speak but put his arm around Estel’s shoulders and waited.

 

   At last Estel said: “And Belegund; is he dead too?”

 

   “Yes,” said Elrohir. “There is nothing to be done.”

 

   Estel was silent for a moment as the scale of the disaster that had befallen their small patrol began to register in his mind. The grief he felt in his heart was something new and terrible and Estel found it too much to bear. Compounded by his own exhaustion and fear, as well as relief that the danger was over, his emotions finally overwhelmed him and he wept. Elrohir gently drew him into his arms and held him until his sobs subsided and he could cry no more.

 

~oo0oo~

 

   A week later the patrol came to the Last bridge over the Mitheithel. They had all ridden from the Ettenmoors with heavy hearts having buried two of their number there but now, as the new buds on the trees signalled the first signs of spring, the rangers were heading west to return for a time to their families and Elladan, Elrohir and Estel were going east to Imladris.

 

   Estel was sad to see the men go. In the months they had been together they had shared great trials but also many happy times and Estel felt he had made some good friends. He was especially going to miss Halbarad but he had the consolation of knowing he had acquitted himself well and so was sure he would be allowed to join future patrols. He had to admit that much as he had enjoyed the adventures, he was greatly looking forward to going home.

 

   There was so much he wanted to ask his father. In particular he had many unanswered questions about the Dunedain. It had seemed to him at times that whenever he asked Elladan or Elrohir anything about the rangers, he always received the same answer.

 

   “Ask Adar, he will explain everything.”

 

   Well now they were going home, he certainly intended to do just that.

 

  

 

 

Comments

[cairistiona7.livejournal.com]

I like this tale as much as Chapter 1, and perhaps more, because now we're seeing Estel as nearly a grown man and, of course, with plenty of action and angst. ;) The troll battle was so well done--I can well imagine how hard it would have been on Estel, and his stamina not quite holding up, and his reactions to the entire thing seem spot on. I also like his interactions with Halbarad (of course! Yes, my name is cairistiona and I am a Halbaradaholic...) And I think Elladan's reaction at the end of the troll battle was the most moving part of the whole piece. You can't help but read this and think of Arador, so it makes sense that Elladan would be shattered at seeing Estel alive and whole. This was quite a coming-of-age for him, his first winter out, and you've done a good job at filling in the picture for us. :)

[inzilbeth-liz.livejournal.com]

Gosh thanks Cairstiona for that! It was a lot to fit in one chapter but combining Estel's first big adventure with meeting the Dunedain [and Halbarad!], opened up several possibilities. I'm glad Estel's reactions to the battle seemed OK. I didn't want to make him superman [he's not even that 70 years later] but I did want him to reflect the care and training that surely went into his upbringing.

Although we'll never know if the sons of Elrond were with Arador when he died, it must have been very hard on both of them seeing young Estel facing such dangers.

[cairistiona7.livejournal.com]

Yep, Aragorn reacted just right ... not superhuman but not a wimp, either, nor as good as he eventually becomes in 70 some years. That hesitation during his first orc fight was very plausible, as was his reaction when he finally felt his sword biting through orc flesh. It was all very plausible and believable. :)

[estelcontar1.livejournal.com]

I've already told you how much I liked this story. I really think you have given us a great portrayal of how Aragorn must have felt when he first came into contact with the reality of violence and death. The reality is so different from the idealizations one makes of strife.

A very thoughtful piece indeed.

[inzilbeth-liz.livejournal.com]

Thank you, I'm so glad you liked it. Growing up with tales of great heroes, as well as living under the same roof as several of them, may well have given a young Estel romantic ideas about battle. The reality would indeed be a shock.

[lissas-elves.livejournal.com]

Wow - great battle scene there, Inzilbeth!

Loved his hesitation upon coming under attack - he is young and inexperienced - and also his grief at seeing the dead rangers (his first encounter with death at all, I suppose?). Very realistic.

[inzilbeth-liz.livejournal.com]

Never having been in a battle [funnily enough!], I do find them a bit of a challenge to write so I'm glad you thought that worked!

When I started thinking about what Estel's 'Great Deeds' might have been, the only thing I was sure about was that I wanted him to experience death for the first time. I think he would have been quite sheltered from that at Rivendell and it would hit him in much the same way it would you or I.

Thank you for reading and I'm pleased you thought it realistic.

[meckinock.livejournal.com]

OK, my absolute favorite moment was Elladan's fierce embrace of Estel at the end of the troll battle. And poor Estel can't figure out what's wrong with him!

What a baptism. Growing up in a Dunedain settlement, he might not have seen death in battle before, but he would have been familiar with the aftermath - and seen the rituals of death, seen and felt the grief and shock and loss of dying and death. To be sheltered from it all for so long only to receive such a baptism by fire - well, it demonstrates what an extraordinary individual he is to cope so well.

Edit: Oh, I meant to add, Estel handled the battle just perfectly, I thought. He would have been well-trained by E2, and instinctively reverted to the moves they taught him, but at the same time his stamina isn't there yet. And the moment of hesitation at delivering the killing stroke seemed very natural, too.

[inzilbeth-liz.livejournal.com]

This chapter ended up as a vehicle for an awful lot of firsts: first battle, first kill, first sight of Men, first experience of death. So much to cope with; yes, baptism of fire sums it up exactly! I too think death would have hit him very hard for all the reason's you site. I very much doubt he had any experience of it at all.

And yes, I think relief would have pretty much overwhelmed E2 after that battle. I'm glad you enjoyed that and that Estel's battle seemed right. I wanted to make him capable without being too competent. He does need some space to improve after all!