On Behalf of One Whom I Love
Rachel, The Lady Tigress
Grief. Despair. Weariness. Fear.
Feelings that I never thought that I would have to feel again. It was many years ago that I left these emotions behind me in the realm of Men, and opted for the peace and tranquility of the Elves.
But it seems that my world is shattered once more. The Dark Lord rises. The pain that is His will has spread throughout Middle-Earth and has penetrated even the peace of the domain of the Elves. I can no longer live in quiet and in happiness. Those times are gone, and these turbulent events have come to take their place.
Peace. Was it only a few brief years ago that we had such a thing? Was it so short a time ago that my family was united, and our hearts one? Now it is not so. Now my family, my sons, are scattered throughout the land, searching for a way to defeat this evil that has come to claim us. They are fighting, not for themselves, but for the free peoples and creatures of Middle-Earth. They fight for the hopes and the happiness of people that they may never meet, people that may never thank them. But they fight anyway.
I fear for them. These paths that my children have taken are dark ones, and dangerous. They must tread carefully and cautiously if they are to defeat this powerful darkness. But I trust them. I know that I have taught them well, and they all are adept at coming through deadly circumstances safely. Well, almost all of them.
My errant human son has a way of finding himself in places and situations that he has a difficult time getting out of. And he is in the most peril of all. While I sit here and watch the war from afar he is in the midst of battle, charged with the most precious of tasks... and the most heavy of burdens. My son and the others were to take to the Ring – The One Ring of Mordor - and cast it into the fires of Mount Doom.
I know my human son. And he knows of his human heritage. He has feared for so long that he will fail, that he would fall into the traps that his forefathers were not wise enough to see. But I know him. He is strong as his ancestors never were. The Ring could not hold him.
But that task is no longer his. He has passed his test, and now he and his two friends have another, more difficult challenge ahead. He must convince King Theoden of Rohan to gather his Riders and journey to Gondor's aid. I have met the Theoden's father, and if the current king is anything like the last, I know that it will not be an easy challenge.
No, the challenge will not be light, but it should be relatively safe... if my ceredir o presto of a son can stay away from the Dimwold Road. I would not see him enter that trial unless there was no hope left.
I sigh and breathe deep. Rivendell is quiet. A few others and I are all that is left of this once great house. The rest of my people have made their final journey to the sea, to leave this land and her fate in the hands of Men. I would stay, though, to see the end... and whatever fate may come. I am saddened by this, but I cannot leave.
I have but one comfort. That my daughter is safe. She travels in the company of the last Elves of Rivendell, to take her safely to the shores. She never wished to go, but both she and I must make this sacrifice. I know that her heart yearns for my son, and his for hers, but it cannot be. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but if fate must take one child from me, then I could not bare it to have the other follow. For if Aragorn fails, and all hope fades, then Arwen will fall as well. She is my light, a star amongst the Elves. I could not lose her. I'm not sure that I would survive if I lost either of my children.
Suddenly, a sound disturbs me. My keen Elven senses have heard a rider coming in. A rider? No, it couldn't be! It is. My daughter has returned. I want to deny this, but I cannot. And I know why she has come. She will not leave her love. Oh Arwen, my daughter. Why have you come back? You should be journeying to a place of happiness and fulfillment, not chained here where there is no joy or hope. I would see you with peace, daughter, not with despair. But she is here, and my wishes are but breaths on the wind. She reads to me a poem foretelling the return of the king. She is trying to convince me that I must give Aragorn the re-forged sword of Narsil. But doesn't she see that I cannot? I would have re-forged the sword years ago, had it not been for... Aragorn. Estel. Who is the real man? Long ago, when my human son was but a simple Ranger of the Wild, he asked me to call him by his true name... his Elven name. Doesn't my daughter see? It isn't for lack of faith that I have not called him King. It is because he does not wish to be what he could be. He turned from that path long ago. He has chosen exile. He wishes to be Ranger. I almost believe that he thinks he will lose his Elven heritage if he chooses the world of Men. And again, perhaps I am selfish. If I re-forge the sword, and he takes his place as King, then I will have lost a son as surely as if he fell from an orc's blade. And I have promised that I would not give up my daughter to any less then a king. If I lose my son, then I also lose my daughter. And I cannot do such a thing. I am strong, a Lord among Elves. But I am a father first. I am a father to my human son, and to my daughter. And I am not strong enough to lose them both. I turn from my daughter to signal my decision and I hear the book fall from her lap in despair. I grip her hands to give her comfort, and notice something that should not be. Her ands are cold. Her life is leaving her. Her immortality is fading. I look into her eyes and I now know the truth. She will never make the trip to the Grey Shores. She is no longer of the Eldar. She is human. She has made her choice. And now I must make mine. Do I re-forge the sword, and call my son to be the man he doesn't wish to be? Or do I look for another way, where my son can be who is... Estel, Strider, Ranger of the North, and nothing more? What is my choice? And what choice do I have?
I travel the rocky path to the top of the cliff where a large camp is set. With me I carry a precious burden. I am led to a opulent tent, and asked to wait. The stubborn king of Rohan waits with me. My son enters shortly; soon he and I are alone. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees my face, and he bows slightly, unsure if eyes are watching. Of course a Ranger would bow to a Lord. I study him and he looks well, if a little worn. Oh, Estel. I am sorry, my son. I am sorry that such are the times that these choices must be made. I am sorry that I cannot give you what your heart most desired. And I am sorry that I must now force on you a burden that you have fled from carrying all of your life. "I come on behalf of one whom I love." I come for you, my son. You whom I love as much as I love my daughter. You who are a son to me, and ever will, be you called Estel orphan of Rivendell, Strider Ranger of the North, or Aragorn King of Men. You who have a destiny in front of you that you cannot hide from. I remember you as a child, and how you would often hide behind my robes when your brother chased you after some mischievous prank. I am sorry my son. I cannot let you hide behind me anymore. Nor can I hide behind you. I have realized now that even should you rise up to reclaim your throne, and even should Arwen stand beside you as Queen, I will not have lost you. You are my son, whatever your name or title. She is still my daughter, even if her choice was for you and not with the Elves. I love you both and the only way that I should lose either of you is if this encroaching darkness claims you. I will not lose you. I will not lose my son, and I will not lose my daughter. With Andruil now in your hands we have the strength to fight this impending doom. We now have hope that this evil can be vanquished. We have the weapons, the Men, the means, and now we have a worthy leader. No, Estel, I will not lose my son nor my daughter because as I see you now standing before me, the re-forged sword shining like the flame it was named for, I cannot believe that we will be let fail. You are Estel. You are Strider. You are Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and heir to the throne of Gondor. You are my son. I come on behalf of one whom I love. I have come on your behalf, my son. One whom I love.
Ceredir o presto: Troublemaker; Maker of Trouble
Authors Note and Disclaimer: No, I don't own Lord of the Rings. There, I'm done. Yet another vignette from little ol' me. I not sure how this one turned out. I was up at 2:00 in the morning just because I couldn't sleep, so it kinda came out as a ramble. Anyway, you know the drill. If you read, please review. Yes ladies and gents, this is your chance to rant and rave. If you liked, then please let me know, and if you didn't let know that too. Fans and flames are taken into the same account. And the same drill applies – for anyone who notices something that needs to be fixed or changed, let me know, and when I repost, I give credit where credit is due. Thanks a million kiddies! Rachel, The Lady Tigress
Rachel, The Lady Tigress
Grief. Despair. Weariness. Fear.
Feelings that I never thought that I would have to feel again. It was many years ago that I left these emotions behind me in the realm of Men, and opted for the peace and tranquility of the Elves.
But it seems that my world is shattered once more. The Dark Lord rises. The pain that is His will has spread throughout Middle-Earth and has penetrated even the peace of the domain of the Elves. I can no longer live in quiet and in happiness. Those times are gone, and these turbulent events have come to take their place.
Peace. Was it only a few brief years ago that we had such a thing? Was it so short a time ago that my family was united, and our hearts one? Now it is not so. Now my family, my sons, are scattered throughout the land, searching for a way to defeat this evil that has come to claim us. They are fighting, not for themselves, but for the free peoples and creatures of Middle-Earth. They fight for the hopes and the happiness of people that they may never meet, people that may never thank them. But they fight anyway.
I fear for them. These paths that my children have taken are dark ones, and dangerous. They must tread carefully and cautiously if they are to defeat this powerful darkness. But I trust them. I know that I have taught them well, and they all are adept at coming through deadly circumstances safely. Well, almost all of them.
My errant human son has a way of finding himself in places and situations that he has a difficult time getting out of. And he is in the most peril of all. While I sit here and watch the war from afar he is in the midst of battle, charged with the most precious of tasks... and the most heavy of burdens. My son and the others were to take to the Ring – The One Ring of Mordor - and cast it into the fires of Mount Doom.
I know my human son. And he knows of his human heritage. He has feared for so long that he will fail, that he would fall into the traps that his forefathers were not wise enough to see. But I know him. He is strong as his ancestors never were. The Ring could not hold him.
But that task is no longer his. He has passed his test, and now he and his two friends have another, more difficult challenge ahead. He must convince King Theoden of Rohan to gather his Riders and journey to Gondor's aid. I have met the Theoden's father, and if the current king is anything like the last, I know that it will not be an easy challenge.
No, the challenge will not be light, but it should be relatively safe... if my ceredir o presto of a son can stay away from the Dimwold Road. I would not see him enter that trial unless there was no hope left.
I sigh and breathe deep. Rivendell is quiet. A few others and I are all that is left of this once great house. The rest of my people have made their final journey to the sea, to leave this land and her fate in the hands of Men. I would stay, though, to see the end... and whatever fate may come. I am saddened by this, but I cannot leave.
I have but one comfort. That my daughter is safe. She travels in the company of the last Elves of Rivendell, to take her safely to the shores. She never wished to go, but both she and I must make this sacrifice. I know that her heart yearns for my son, and his for hers, but it cannot be. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but if fate must take one child from me, then I could not bare it to have the other follow. For if Aragorn fails, and all hope fades, then Arwen will fall as well. She is my light, a star amongst the Elves. I could not lose her. I'm not sure that I would survive if I lost either of my children.
Suddenly, a sound disturbs me. My keen Elven senses have heard a rider coming in. A rider? No, it couldn't be! It is. My daughter has returned. I want to deny this, but I cannot. And I know why she has come. She will not leave her love. Oh Arwen, my daughter. Why have you come back? You should be journeying to a place of happiness and fulfillment, not chained here where there is no joy or hope. I would see you with peace, daughter, not with despair. But she is here, and my wishes are but breaths on the wind. She reads to me a poem foretelling the return of the king. She is trying to convince me that I must give Aragorn the re-forged sword of Narsil. But doesn't she see that I cannot? I would have re-forged the sword years ago, had it not been for... Aragorn. Estel. Who is the real man? Long ago, when my human son was but a simple Ranger of the Wild, he asked me to call him by his true name... his Elven name. Doesn't my daughter see? It isn't for lack of faith that I have not called him King. It is because he does not wish to be what he could be. He turned from that path long ago. He has chosen exile. He wishes to be Ranger. I almost believe that he thinks he will lose his Elven heritage if he chooses the world of Men. And again, perhaps I am selfish. If I re-forge the sword, and he takes his place as King, then I will have lost a son as surely as if he fell from an orc's blade. And I have promised that I would not give up my daughter to any less then a king. If I lose my son, then I also lose my daughter. And I cannot do such a thing. I am strong, a Lord among Elves. But I am a father first. I am a father to my human son, and to my daughter. And I am not strong enough to lose them both. I turn from my daughter to signal my decision and I hear the book fall from her lap in despair. I grip her hands to give her comfort, and notice something that should not be. Her ands are cold. Her life is leaving her. Her immortality is fading. I look into her eyes and I now know the truth. She will never make the trip to the Grey Shores. She is no longer of the Eldar. She is human. She has made her choice. And now I must make mine. Do I re-forge the sword, and call my son to be the man he doesn't wish to be? Or do I look for another way, where my son can be who is... Estel, Strider, Ranger of the North, and nothing more? What is my choice? And what choice do I have?
I travel the rocky path to the top of the cliff where a large camp is set. With me I carry a precious burden. I am led to a opulent tent, and asked to wait. The stubborn king of Rohan waits with me. My son enters shortly; soon he and I are alone. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees my face, and he bows slightly, unsure if eyes are watching. Of course a Ranger would bow to a Lord. I study him and he looks well, if a little worn. Oh, Estel. I am sorry, my son. I am sorry that such are the times that these choices must be made. I am sorry that I cannot give you what your heart most desired. And I am sorry that I must now force on you a burden that you have fled from carrying all of your life. "I come on behalf of one whom I love." I come for you, my son. You whom I love as much as I love my daughter. You who are a son to me, and ever will, be you called Estel orphan of Rivendell, Strider Ranger of the North, or Aragorn King of Men. You who have a destiny in front of you that you cannot hide from. I remember you as a child, and how you would often hide behind my robes when your brother chased you after some mischievous prank. I am sorry my son. I cannot let you hide behind me anymore. Nor can I hide behind you. I have realized now that even should you rise up to reclaim your throne, and even should Arwen stand beside you as Queen, I will not have lost you. You are my son, whatever your name or title. She is still my daughter, even if her choice was for you and not with the Elves. I love you both and the only way that I should lose either of you is if this encroaching darkness claims you. I will not lose you. I will not lose my son, and I will not lose my daughter. With Andruil now in your hands we have the strength to fight this impending doom. We now have hope that this evil can be vanquished. We have the weapons, the Men, the means, and now we have a worthy leader. No, Estel, I will not lose my son nor my daughter because as I see you now standing before me, the re-forged sword shining like the flame it was named for, I cannot believe that we will be let fail. You are Estel. You are Strider. You are Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and heir to the throne of Gondor. You are my son. I come on behalf of one whom I love. I have come on your behalf, my son. One whom I love.
Ceredir o presto: Troublemaker; Maker of Trouble
Authors Note and Disclaimer: No, I don't own Lord of the Rings. There, I'm done. Yet another vignette from little ol' me. I not sure how this one turned out. I was up at 2:00 in the morning just because I couldn't sleep, so it kinda came out as a ramble. Anyway, you know the drill. If you read, please review. Yes ladies and gents, this is your chance to rant and rave. If you liked, then please let me know, and if you didn't let know that too. Fans and flames are taken into the same account. And the same drill applies – for anyone who notices something that needs to be fixed or changed, let me know, and when I repost, I give credit where credit is due. Thanks a million kiddies! Rachel, The Lady Tigress