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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.
For this chapter in particular, special thanks are due to Cairstiona for the beta and for her most helpful input.
Chapter 3 part 1: “Son of Arathorn”
But when Estel was only twenty years of age, it chanced that he returned to Rivendell after great deeds in the company of the sons of Elrond; and Elrond looked at him and was pleased, for he saw that he was fair and noble and was early come to manhood, though he would yet become greater in body and mind. That day therefore Elrond called him by his true name, and told him who he was and whose son; and delivered to him the heirlooms of his house.
“The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen” Return of the King
It was good to be home.
It was a glorious April day. The sun was now high above the
Spring had come to Rivendell, and with every step that brought him home, the winter in Estel’s heart slowly receded too. Six months on his first proper patrol had left its mark on the young man. The excited lad who rode out of the valley last autumn had gone forever. Never far from his conscious thought now were the images of battle and death. At night when he closed his eyes those images still filled his mind; the horror would be slow to leave him. In the last few days, as he and his brothers had ridden home, Estel had brooded interminably over all he had seen and done that winter out in the wilds. He wondered how the others coped with such a life, year after year; how he would cope with it. But cope he must; this he knew. He was a warrior now. But the reality of seeing his friends butchered before his eyes was not as he had expected. The heroic tales he had devoured from his earliest years never mentioned the pain and the fear and the suffering that accompanied them.
And he was exhausted. The endless watchful days and nights left his young body yearning for a full night’s sleep in the comfort and safety of his own room. He ached for the soothing presence of his mother, and the compassion and gentle guidance of his father. He had missed both his parents dreadfully. It had not helped that he felt unable to admit to such childish longings to anyone on the patrol, not even his brothers.
But as he left the stables and made his way to the house, Estel felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was Elrohir.
“Come, let us go find Adar,” he said, smiling at his foster brother. Estel nodded, grateful for his wordless understanding, and then with Elladan beside him, the three walked side by side to the main entrance. Estel could not help but remember that a year ago he had returned from a month’s scouting with his brothers and had fairly raced down the path before leaping up the steps three at a time in his excitement at being home. No such compulsion drove him today.
And yet amid all his turmoil and grief, there was a part of him that felt a joy such as he had never known before. Ever since he was a small boy he had dreamed of joining the warriors and fighting along side them in battle. He had trained eagerly for years, but as his training had neared completion, fear that he would fail this very first test had steadily grown within him. But now he had come through this rite of passage, and with honour at that. He had not only killed many orcs but he had slain a troll as well. He had earned respect and in doing so his confidence had soared, though his was no longer the untried confidence of an optimistic youth but the firm surety of experience. In this he justifiably took no small amount of pride.
Glorfindel met them all in the hallway as he was eager for news, but Estel wanted his father and so he left the twins giving their report and made his own way to Elrond’s study. Elrond heard him coming and was already at the door as he arrived. Estel’s face lit up as his father opened his arms to him.
“Adar, I have so many tales to tell you,” beamed Estel, “So much has happened!”
Elrond kissed his foster son and embraced him tightly, ruffling his unruly hair as he did so. He was relived to find him not only well and unharmed but also apparently eager to speak of his adventures. He had seen so many young warriors return changed from their first patrol and already he could sense that change in Estel. There was a haunted look in his eyes that stung Elrond. He did not doubt that the lightness of his son’s greeting was a sign of the first thickening of his skin, a sad necessity if his ordeals were not to break him.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Elrond said, holding the lad at arm's length so he could cast his eyes over him and satisfy himself completely as to his well-being. He had clearly thrived on his experiences. His eyes shone and his face glowed with health and vitality. He seemed to have grown even taller and he had certainly filled out. The muscles beneath his tunic were now firm and taut. In just a few short months, the boy had become a man.
He was, however, filthy.
“And I want to hear all that you have been doing,” said Elrond, “though I’m afraid my son, half a year in the wild leaves you in more urgent need of a bath! Why don’t you go and get cleaned up and find yourself something to eat. Then when you are refreshed, come and sit with me and I can hear all the news.” He smiled affectionately. He did not want to push Estel away but he really wanted to hear from Elladan and Elrohir how he had fared before he heard his son’s own account of his adventures. Estel smiled back happily, his relief at finally being home, blended with the warmth of his father’s love, was already doing wonders to disperse the remnants of his grief.
“Very well, Adar,” he said, “but I won’t be long.”
“And go and see your mother,” Elrond added as Estel walked back down the corridor. Gilraen he knew had worried the whole time he was away, but like all Dunedain women who lose their husbands young and then watch their sons grow up to face the same dangers, she bore her sorrows stoically and silently.
Elrond watched him go, a child no longer. Yet it seemed hardly any time at all since he had arrived in Rivendell, a frightened little boy of just two years, brought here hastily for his own protection following the slaying of his father. Estel was the fifteenth Heir of Isildur he had fostered, but he was the only one who had come to him as a baby. He was the only one he had named himself, and the only one he had reared as his own son. He was also the only one who had not known who he really was. Elrond had made up his mind; if Elladan and Elrohir spoke well of him, then the time had come for him to be told.
He could see the twins chatting to Glorfindel in the hallway and went to greet them, embracing them together, one in each arm. They returned with him to his study and Elladan went straight to the wine flask to pour them all a drink.
“It’s a relief to be home,” he said. “It’s been a long winter and hard. We’ve had more than our usual share of trouble this year. Certainly there were orcs roaming about in greater numbers. The Dunedain have been very hard pressed and were glad of our aid. They would have struggled without us, I think.” He took a long swig of his wine and sat himself down in a comfortable chair beside Elrohir, who was already sprawled on the sofa.
“Estel seems well,” said Elrond. “I hope he didn’t find it all too much of a trial.”
“Yes, where is Estel?” asked Elrohir, reaching for his glass. “I thought he would be here regaling you with tales of all his adventures.”
“He would be,” said Elrond, smiling at his son, “only I sent him to get a bath.”
“Ah, we had noticed!”
“Not only that!” continued the Elf-lord, “I wanted a chance to ask you about him, how he fared. Is he ready to be told?”
Elladan and Elrohir glanced at one another and a look of resignation passed between them. They knew this was the first step to losing their foster brother to the life he must soon lead.
It was Elladan who answered. “He is more than ready,” he said. “He has learnt his lessons well. He will soon be as good a swordsman as any among the Dunedain and already he has more skill at hunting. He had to face many trials this winter and at times it was far from easy for him, but nonetheless he overcame his fears and proved a worthy member of the patrol. He is growing into a fine young man; we all have good reason to be proud of him.”
“Yes, it was a joy to see him,” added Elrohir. “He earned the respect of all the rangers. And although life in the wilds is still something of an adventure for him, he is well aware it is only so because we are at hand to protect him. He takes everything we have taught him to heart; I deem his greatest fear is disappointing you.”
“All that you say pleases me,” said Elrond as he considered his sons’ words. “Of course he has always been an eager pupil. But what of Dirhael; did he meet him?”
“Oh Dirhael is impatient for his return,” said Elladan. “The lives of the Dunedain are as difficult as ever. They lost two good men just this last week. Dirhael leads them as best he can, but it is so long since they had any real hope.”
“But they do not want Estel just as a figurehead,” added Elrohir quickly. “It was not just his fighting and hunting skills that impressed them. In his quiet, thoughtful way of listening to and learning from all that is said, he shows a maturity beyond his years. He is not at all proud and arrogant as some young men seem to be. They will follow him, Adar, even now, even though he is only young. Dirhael said as much.”
“Well,” said Elrond, “if he has impressed Dirhael then he must have fared well indeed. I shall never forget the trouble poor Arathorn had persuading him he was worthy of marrying Gilraen. My mind is made up. I shall tell him today.”
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Date: 2008-07-29 12:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-29 06:38 am (UTC)