Disclaimer: I do not own Aragorn, or Gilrean or any other of the characters
mentioned in the story (although Drinian is mine, despite the name being
courtesy of C.S.Lewis).
Introduction: This is the story of Aragorn's life. This is gonna be a long one, so I'm sorry if you don't feel patient enough to read all of it. If you're one of those people who looks at the number of chapters and gasps, realizing there's a bunch of them, and not short ones either, fear not. Most of these chapters can stand alone actually. It's almost a collection of stories about Aragorn, just stuck together in chronological order. I'm just taking samples of certain stages of his life to give you an idea of what the whole thing was like. This first chapter is about him as an infant, and how he came to dwell in Rivendell. The next three chapters are about him growing up in Rivendell. Then at chapter 4 we take a break from the Elves and check out some Dunedain, and then he comes back to Rivendell and we see him as an adolsecent. The five chapters following are all about him age 20, as long of stuff happens at that point. After that, he'll be heading out into the world, on his own. So there's a breif overview of the story so far. Right then, chapter one.
-------------------------------------------------------
Gilrean sat staring out the window as the snow fell to the ground. It was a bleak, cold winter night and the wind was howling, but the fire nearby kept her warm, and the child in her arms felt warm against her body. Her fingers caressed his soft, smooth skin, absently stroking his thin, whispy dark hair. Her husband was out with the other Dunedain, patrolling the borders of Northern Eriador. There had been sighting of orcs last week and she hadn't seen Arathorn for many days. She and Arathorn had been wed three years ago, and their son Aragorn had been born less than two years ago. He tried to be home as often as possible, and she tried to help as much as she could, sometimes even wandering off with the men of the Dunedain. But when things got dangerous, she was never allowed to go with them. Especially now that she had Aragorn to look after.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Gilrean stood up and placed the sleeping child on the chair, and went to answer the door. A ranger stood at the door, soaked and exhausted.
"Drinian!" she said. "Come inside at once, it's horrible out there, you look awful!" Drinian nodded and entered the house, and pulled back his hood. He stood for a moment, catching his breath, then turned to Gilrean.
"What is it?" The expression on his face made her uneasy. "Drinian, what's wrong? . What's happened?"
The ranger hung his head and turned away. When he looked up again, his eyes fell onto the sleeping boy, not yet two years old. He looked back at the lady standing before him and saw the greif and anxiousness in her eyes. "We found signs of orcs east of the Brandywine. We followed them for days. Caught up with them near Bree. We might have beaten them. We very nearly did. We would have.. But there were more than we had expected. came up from behind. had been tracking us just as we were tracking the others." Gilrean was very alarmed, not only because of this horrible news, but because of the way the usually charismatic Drinian spoke in fragments, as if he were suffering a great deal of exhaustion, loss, and shock. She held her breath, waiting for Drinian to collect himself and tell her more. "Arathorn led us well. He fought bravely and he saved most of us." He looked up at her and his clear blue eyes stared into hers. "He is dead."
Something seemed to suddenly grab Gilrean, and she felt an explosion of dread and remorse. It was true. It couldn't be true. No. NO! "No!" Drinian caught her shoulders as she slumped back, and helped her to the chair. She covered her face in her hands and cried. She was so young. They had been married such a short time. She hadn't seen him for so long. And he was gone. Gone forever. Drinian waited with patient understanding for many minutes, rubbing her back, until finally she looked up. "What am I to do now?" she asked. "Who will teach Aragorn? Who will take care of us?"
"We must take him to Lord Elrond. You, also, will find care and shelter in Rivendell." She nodded. "I'll come back for you in the morning. Gather your belongings and prepare for traveling.. Are you alright?" She nodded again. "Thankyou, Drinian." "You're welcome, Lady."
--------------------------------------
"We're nearly there, Lady. We've come to the edges of Rivendell now, Elf Haven."
Gilrean looked about her in awe. The trees were green and lush, and a river flowed nearby. Everywhere she looked she saw peace and beauty. Far off, she thought could hear beautiful voices singing. She rode behind Drinian, and Aragorn sat in front of her, grinning at the trees and small animals that watched them warily. A butterfly flew near his face and he laughed a high and sudden laugh and waved his arms.
"Careful, Aragorn," Gilrean laughed, holding onto him. She couldn't help but feel light-hearted in this place of wonder, watching her tiny son laughing and smiling in excitement. She wondered when he would start to feel his father's absence and know that he was never coming back. The thought brought her back to the sorrowful circles she had gone through before. She missed him so much.
When they had at last come to the house of Elrond, they were greeted by many elves, and Gilrean thought them the fairest folk she had ever seen. So tall and slender, so young and free, and yet so old and sad, at the same time. The knowledge of many years weighed on them, but the spirit of youth stayed with them always. A few elves took their horses to tend to, and the others escorted Drinian, Gilrean and Aragorn to their Lord Elrond.
The travelers entered the room and saw Elrond sitting on his throne. He rose respectfully, in greeting and nodded to their escorts who left to continue with what they had been doing beforehand.
"Welcome to Rivendell. Who are you, and what brings you here?"
"Lord Elrond," said Drinian, stepping forward. "We are of the Dunedain of the North, and have traveled here from our village near Bree. My name is Drinian son of Drinel. I come with news and a plea."
"What have you to tell?"
"My Lord. Arathorn, Heir of Isildur has died." Elrond furrowed his brow in dismay and hung his head, staring away for a moment.
"This is indeed sorrowful news, for Arathorn II was a friend of mine. And a man of great importance and valor. Tell me, how did he die? For, though I know the span of men is short, Arathorn was a men still in his youth, in my memory."
"He was," said Drinian. "Only sixty-three years old. He might have lived three times that length. But he was slain in battle with orcs."
Elrond sighed. "Orcs. And so near here. What is to be done now? Had he no heir?" Elrond's eyes shifted towards the woman behind Drinian, holding a child. "Who are you?"
"I am Gilrean. Arathorn was my husband, and this is his son, Aragorn." She paused, glancing at Drinian and then looking back once more at Elrond, who was quietly observing her. "I have come to ask you for help. For care and shelter. For my son."
Elrond sat for a moment in thought, considering. "Bring the child to me," he replied, his sharp blue eyes now focusing on Aragorn. Gilrean handed Aragorn to him. Elrond sat, holding the boy in his arms, smiling slightly. "Such a little thing." The boy he held was small for two years, and his legs were thin and frog-like. His face was round and pudgy, as all small children's are, and his grey eyes widened as he took the world in. They had darkened since infancy, and lost the cheerful, bright blue they once had. They now resembled, as they ever would, the sea on a calm, overcast day. "I sense for this child, a fate of great importance and urgency. Much depends on him. Heir of Elendil. It may be that all our hope rests in him. Therefore, Estel I name him, that is Hope in the High Tongue. He will reside here in Rivendell with his mother, under my protection, by that name, and none must know who he truly is. For now."
Gilrean thanked him for his graciousness and then thanked Drinian for everything he had done. Drinian stayed for two nights in Rivendell, finding peace and comfort, but soon returned to his people, and left Gilrean and Aragorn under Elrond's protection.
Introduction: This is the story of Aragorn's life. This is gonna be a long one, so I'm sorry if you don't feel patient enough to read all of it. If you're one of those people who looks at the number of chapters and gasps, realizing there's a bunch of them, and not short ones either, fear not. Most of these chapters can stand alone actually. It's almost a collection of stories about Aragorn, just stuck together in chronological order. I'm just taking samples of certain stages of his life to give you an idea of what the whole thing was like. This first chapter is about him as an infant, and how he came to dwell in Rivendell. The next three chapters are about him growing up in Rivendell. Then at chapter 4 we take a break from the Elves and check out some Dunedain, and then he comes back to Rivendell and we see him as an adolsecent. The five chapters following are all about him age 20, as long of stuff happens at that point. After that, he'll be heading out into the world, on his own. So there's a breif overview of the story so far. Right then, chapter one.
-------------------------------------------------------
Gilrean sat staring out the window as the snow fell to the ground. It was a bleak, cold winter night and the wind was howling, but the fire nearby kept her warm, and the child in her arms felt warm against her body. Her fingers caressed his soft, smooth skin, absently stroking his thin, whispy dark hair. Her husband was out with the other Dunedain, patrolling the borders of Northern Eriador. There had been sighting of orcs last week and she hadn't seen Arathorn for many days. She and Arathorn had been wed three years ago, and their son Aragorn had been born less than two years ago. He tried to be home as often as possible, and she tried to help as much as she could, sometimes even wandering off with the men of the Dunedain. But when things got dangerous, she was never allowed to go with them. Especially now that she had Aragorn to look after.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Gilrean stood up and placed the sleeping child on the chair, and went to answer the door. A ranger stood at the door, soaked and exhausted.
"Drinian!" she said. "Come inside at once, it's horrible out there, you look awful!" Drinian nodded and entered the house, and pulled back his hood. He stood for a moment, catching his breath, then turned to Gilrean.
"What is it?" The expression on his face made her uneasy. "Drinian, what's wrong? . What's happened?"
The ranger hung his head and turned away. When he looked up again, his eyes fell onto the sleeping boy, not yet two years old. He looked back at the lady standing before him and saw the greif and anxiousness in her eyes. "We found signs of orcs east of the Brandywine. We followed them for days. Caught up with them near Bree. We might have beaten them. We very nearly did. We would have.. But there were more than we had expected. came up from behind. had been tracking us just as we were tracking the others." Gilrean was very alarmed, not only because of this horrible news, but because of the way the usually charismatic Drinian spoke in fragments, as if he were suffering a great deal of exhaustion, loss, and shock. She held her breath, waiting for Drinian to collect himself and tell her more. "Arathorn led us well. He fought bravely and he saved most of us." He looked up at her and his clear blue eyes stared into hers. "He is dead."
Something seemed to suddenly grab Gilrean, and she felt an explosion of dread and remorse. It was true. It couldn't be true. No. NO! "No!" Drinian caught her shoulders as she slumped back, and helped her to the chair. She covered her face in her hands and cried. She was so young. They had been married such a short time. She hadn't seen him for so long. And he was gone. Gone forever. Drinian waited with patient understanding for many minutes, rubbing her back, until finally she looked up. "What am I to do now?" she asked. "Who will teach Aragorn? Who will take care of us?"
"We must take him to Lord Elrond. You, also, will find care and shelter in Rivendell." She nodded. "I'll come back for you in the morning. Gather your belongings and prepare for traveling.. Are you alright?" She nodded again. "Thankyou, Drinian." "You're welcome, Lady."
--------------------------------------
"We're nearly there, Lady. We've come to the edges of Rivendell now, Elf Haven."
Gilrean looked about her in awe. The trees were green and lush, and a river flowed nearby. Everywhere she looked she saw peace and beauty. Far off, she thought could hear beautiful voices singing. She rode behind Drinian, and Aragorn sat in front of her, grinning at the trees and small animals that watched them warily. A butterfly flew near his face and he laughed a high and sudden laugh and waved his arms.
"Careful, Aragorn," Gilrean laughed, holding onto him. She couldn't help but feel light-hearted in this place of wonder, watching her tiny son laughing and smiling in excitement. She wondered when he would start to feel his father's absence and know that he was never coming back. The thought brought her back to the sorrowful circles she had gone through before. She missed him so much.
When they had at last come to the house of Elrond, they were greeted by many elves, and Gilrean thought them the fairest folk she had ever seen. So tall and slender, so young and free, and yet so old and sad, at the same time. The knowledge of many years weighed on them, but the spirit of youth stayed with them always. A few elves took their horses to tend to, and the others escorted Drinian, Gilrean and Aragorn to their Lord Elrond.
The travelers entered the room and saw Elrond sitting on his throne. He rose respectfully, in greeting and nodded to their escorts who left to continue with what they had been doing beforehand.
"Welcome to Rivendell. Who are you, and what brings you here?"
"Lord Elrond," said Drinian, stepping forward. "We are of the Dunedain of the North, and have traveled here from our village near Bree. My name is Drinian son of Drinel. I come with news and a plea."
"What have you to tell?"
"My Lord. Arathorn, Heir of Isildur has died." Elrond furrowed his brow in dismay and hung his head, staring away for a moment.
"This is indeed sorrowful news, for Arathorn II was a friend of mine. And a man of great importance and valor. Tell me, how did he die? For, though I know the span of men is short, Arathorn was a men still in his youth, in my memory."
"He was," said Drinian. "Only sixty-three years old. He might have lived three times that length. But he was slain in battle with orcs."
Elrond sighed. "Orcs. And so near here. What is to be done now? Had he no heir?" Elrond's eyes shifted towards the woman behind Drinian, holding a child. "Who are you?"
"I am Gilrean. Arathorn was my husband, and this is his son, Aragorn." She paused, glancing at Drinian and then looking back once more at Elrond, who was quietly observing her. "I have come to ask you for help. For care and shelter. For my son."
Elrond sat for a moment in thought, considering. "Bring the child to me," he replied, his sharp blue eyes now focusing on Aragorn. Gilrean handed Aragorn to him. Elrond sat, holding the boy in his arms, smiling slightly. "Such a little thing." The boy he held was small for two years, and his legs were thin and frog-like. His face was round and pudgy, as all small children's are, and his grey eyes widened as he took the world in. They had darkened since infancy, and lost the cheerful, bright blue they once had. They now resembled, as they ever would, the sea on a calm, overcast day. "I sense for this child, a fate of great importance and urgency. Much depends on him. Heir of Elendil. It may be that all our hope rests in him. Therefore, Estel I name him, that is Hope in the High Tongue. He will reside here in Rivendell with his mother, under my protection, by that name, and none must know who he truly is. For now."
Gilrean thanked him for his graciousness and then thanked Drinian for everything he had done. Drinian stayed for two nights in Rivendell, finding peace and comfort, but soon returned to his people, and left Gilrean and Aragorn under Elrond's protection.