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inzilbethDisclaimer: 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 12: part 2 King of Men
She decided not to detain him and bid his escort take him to find food and rest. And while Aragorn slept, Galadriel sought out her granddaughter. Arwen had spoken little of the young man, not much more than a boy, who she had met under the silver birches in Rivendell nearly thirty years ago, but Galadriel had noticed the change in her over the years. Arwen probably had not acknowledged her awakening feelings even to herself. To do so would evoke for her an unenviable dilemma, but Galadriel knew Arwen’s heart would turn towards him now. Elrond would be grieved, she knew. But she was sure that in time he would understand, as she did, the importance of a union between Aragorn and Arwen in providing a legacy for all their long labours in Middle-Earth. Whatever the outcome of the approaching war, the Elves’ time in these lands was passing; there would be no victory for the Firstborn. Even if the power of Barad-dûr was destroyed, the future of Middle-earth would belong to Men. If he survived his trials, Aragorn would become king and, if Arwen became his wife, her descendents would have a crucial role in that future.
Elrond knew this too. Was this not the main reason he had he stayed in Middle-earth these last five hundred years, to harbour and protect his brother’s heirs? He, after all, was free to leave and could have sailed with Celebrían had he chosen to do so. Elrond had waited a long time for this scion of Elros. And unlike the other Chieftains of the Dunedain, Aragorn was the only one he had raised as his own son. Surely his love for him would temper some of his pain at being sundered from his daughter.
Galadriel descended the steps to her garden, a favourite haunt of her granddaughter’s at this time in the evening. She knew meddling with the hearts of others could have disastrous consequences, but she was sure the seeds were already sown and nothing more was needed than gentle nurturing. The danger would lie in the reactions of others. She had long ago dwelt in Menegroth and had seen for herself the harm caused when an over protective elf lord had tried to prevent his daughter from following her heart and marrying a mortal
~oo0oo~
Galadriel found her granddaughter walking alone, aimlessly following the gentle stream that meandered through her garden. She accompanied her for a while. It was a beautiful tranquil evening and a simple joy to wander without purpose by the light of the stars. They talked of many things before she mentioned that an unexpected guest had arrived that evening.
“We have a visitor in Lothlórien tonight, Arwen.”
“Oh? Have you received word from Imladris?” Her grand daughter was ever eager for tidings from her father’s house.
“No, it is not a messenger from beyond the mountains,” said Galadriel. “It is a man who rests within our borders. He has journeyed from the South.”
“It has never been the custom to permit men to enter our realm,”
“That is so, but I deemed it right to grant this privilege as he is no ordinary man,” replied Galadriel. “He is the lord of the Dúnedain. You know him as Estel, I believe.”
“Estel! He is here!” said Arwen, her surprise at this news reflected in her voice. But she said no more and, lifting her face to the stars, she was silent for a long moment. The gentle light fell softly about her and Galadriel noticed how her eyes shone. And she thought she had never before seen her grandchild look so fair as she did in that instant.
Turning back to face her grandmother, Arwen asked simply: “He is well?”
“He is weary, but yes, well enough. I sent him to rest, but you may meet him in the morning, should you desire it.”
Arwen was unsure how to reply. She was shaken, and not a little troubled, by the bewildering cascade of emotions that had swept through her at the mere mention of this man’s name. She needed more time to consider this offer.
“Perhaps,” she said at last.
Then she fell silent again and when she spoke next, it was of other matters.
Galadriel smiled to herself. Her granddaughter may have responded lightly to the news, but she had seen the look in her eye and was glad.
~oo0oo~
In the morning, after Aragorn had bathed and eaten, Galadriel sent a message to her guest requesting that he should visit her in her chamber. He complied at once and immediately left his lodging and quickly made his way to join her.
On his arrival, Galadriel was struck by how changed he was from the exhausted man she had met the evening before. The long night’s sleep had eased much of his weariness and many years had fallen from his face. He looked young and fair and, as he stood before her, she noticed how he carried himself with a quiet dignity. Now he seemed to her every inch Elendil’s heir, save for one thing; his travel-stained clothes. He was dressed in rags, and filthy rags at that. He might be the heir of two kingdoms, but at the moment he clearly possessed nothing but the clothes he stood in. It was a small thing perhaps, but she could help him here. Rich and kingly garments, she knew, would not deceive her grand daughter for a moment; Arwen would judge the man beneath the clothes soon enough, but there was no harm in lending him a helping hand. She sent her maid to fetch some of Celeborn’s finest robes.
She would dress this man as the king he might one day become.
Turning her attention back to her guest, she asked: “I trust you slept well, Aragorn, son of Arathorn?”
“Very well, thank you, my lady,” Aragorn replied. “I have not felt so refreshed in a long time.”
Galadriel smiled a little sadly.
“It pleases me then, to hear that you were able to find the rest you needed within our borders. I hope you will chose to remain with us for a time. You have been gone from your home for many years and you are, no doubt, eager to return, but, I’m sure, none would grudge you a short break from your labours.”
Her maid swiftly returned, bearing robes of silver and white and a cloak of grey.
“Will these do, my lady?” she asked, holding them up for her mistress to see.
“They will do very well, thank you,” Galadriel replied, taking the clothes from her and laying them on a couch. Then she turned to Aragorn.
“Your own clothes are very worn and in need of much attention. If you are to rest awhile within my domain, I would have you attired as your station deserves.”
“My station?” asked Aragorn. “I am a traveller, nothing more; there is no need for you to trouble yourself on my behalf, I assure you.”
“If nothing else you are the lord of your people and whilst you are in my realm, I would have you dress as such.” She hoped he wasn’t going to make this difficult. “The needs of the times might require that you disguise your true self, but you have no need of such wiles here. I ask nothing more than to clad you as you would be in your father’s house.” She smiled at him, encouragingly.
Aragorn had no more desire to argue than he had to be dressed as an elven prince so he bowed his head to signal his acquiescence. Galadriel and her maid then left him alone to change. After they had gone, he stood looking at the robes laid out on the couch. They were of the finest quality he had ever seen. In all his years at Rivendell, he could not recall ever seeing Elrond even dressed in such finery. He tentatively reached out a hand and felt the cloth. The silks were softer than any he had felt before. What grub had worked its magic to produce thread like this. And skilfully sewn into the weave of the silks were countless strands of mithril that glistened in the bright morning light. He knew he would feel uncomfortable, if not a little ridiculous dressed so, but he had no desire to insult the Lady and so he quickly shed his old clothes. He was reluctant to part with them. They were more like comfortable old friends to him now, having lived with him for so long and seen him through so many adventures. Laying them to one side, he carefully pulled on the scrupulously clean, sparkling robes. He was still adjusting the tunic when Galadriel returned.
“Here, allow me,” she said, as she stepped towards him and helped him straighten it. Then she picked up the cloak and draped it around his shoulders before fastening it at his throat.
“There, that is better, you look much changed, son of Arathorn,” she said, smiling. “But there are one or two details yet to set right, if you will permit me to attend you.” She pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit.
“Come, let me tidy your hair,” she said. “You still look like a vagabond who has stumbled upon another man’s clothes.”
Aragorn smiled. “Forgive me, my lady, but that is precisely how I feel.”
Galadriel laughed; a soft joyful sound that at once made Aragorn realise how much he had missed the company of elves.
“In that case, we must see what we can do to make you more comfortable,” she said, picking up a comb. Aragorn looked entirely unconvinced, but he sat obediently and allowed the Lady of the Golden Wood to tease the tangles from his hair. She was very gentle and as her long fingers worked systematically through each knotted lock, he had to admit the sensation relaxed and soothed him enormously. When Galadriel was satisfied he had not a hair out of place, she fished a filet from her robe and bound a gem to his brow. Finally she held up a mirror so he could admire the results of her efforts.
“I look like a king!” Aragorn said in amazement at the regal reflection staring back at him.
“So you do,” agreed Galadriel, hoping she sounded surprised.
Then smiling her approval, she led him from her chamber and left him alone to wander under the great trees, where he slowly made his way to Arwen.
~oo0oo~
“Galadriel bade him cast aside his way-worn raiment, and she clothed him in silver and white, with a cloak of elven- grey and a bright gem on his brow. Then more than any king of Men he appeared, and seemed rather an Elf-lord from the lsles of the West. And thus it was that Arwen first beheld him again after their long parting; and as he came walking towards her under the trees of Caras Galadhon laden with flowers of gold, her choice was made and her doom appointed.”
The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen The Return of the King
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Date: 2008-09-13 05:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 09:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 09:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 09:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 11:16 pm (UTC)So, I can't tell you how glad I am to see this point of view so well portrayed as it is in your very perceptive story.
I loved the ending and Aragorn's surprised "I look like a king!". Trust Galadriel to be the one to show him his potential.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 10:35 am (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
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Date: 2008-09-14 04:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 10:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-17 07:47 am (UTC)If you would like your fic to remain then I say congrats and you will be informed via e-mail if you are a winner. Until then you can find the award nominations, and later on voting here: http://community.livejournal.com/2008mcaward
If you would like to sumbit any fics yourself the submission guidelines can be found in the user info of the group.
Good Luck!
Rhonda*mod of MC*
Keeper of Legolas' sad looks and Elrond's love for his sons
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Date: 2008-09-17 05:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-17 06:51 pm (UTC)Rhonda