A Rage Against the Mountain

Well, he swears this will help me. Help me deal with the pain of getting old while surrounded by those for whom age is merely something that applies to wine!

That writing in a journal will help to clear my thoughts and see what is fancy and what is real.

It is all real my Lord Elrond! Every last painful thought and memory!! How would you know...never sick, never injured, never dying, elf lord!

He is so wrapped up in all things Elvish, cool and remote, his dealings with others are always the height of politeness and reserve.

As he is with me! Me the mother of the next Dunadan! Possibly the next King of Gondor! My Aragorn! My-my little boy, now almost a man!

HIS Estel.

Estel, an elvish name meaning hope. Whose hope? His or mine? The world of men or the world of elves? Which will benefit the most from his presence?

How would I know, I see my boy so little these days. He is always practicing archery and swords and studying with the Master of this House. He has even tried his herb lore on me. The vile nasty concoctions he says will help my mood. As does his teacher.

He calls this elven Lord..... Father!! Father! When he has, had a perfectly fine and wonderful human father, Arathorn.

Oh my beloved...my lost heart! Even after these many, many years I miss him so.....

No one touches me in love. No one cares how lonely and still my days are here, living on the kindness of the Eldar.

And now, my little one wanders away, deeper into the world of the elves, ever forgetting he is human and has me.

A human mother.

One who is aging, whose hair is streaked with gray, whose face sags and whose eyes are...old!

I know I am a curiosity here among the ageless glory of the Eldar. Me and my moodiness, my pain, my restlessness.

I cannot find peace here! I wander the halls, and the gardens at all hours, I try my hand at my embroidery but knot up the threads, I cannot sleep so many of my nights...I wander.

My thoughts full of unsettled images. My youth, my husband, my son...our lives.

And here I am, surrounded by great beauty....... and I will admit there is kindness, and care....but so often it feels as if it is the impersonal kindness one shows to a guest that has over-stayed their welcome.

I am petted and fed and kept cleaned...tended to when I am sick.....and left alone!!

Alone is this big House full of elves, all busy with their concerns and the glory of life around them and I...I have trouble getting up in the morning sometimes.

And I cannot remember the last time I sang.

I remember when we first got here, surrounded by the last of the troop that had fended off the orcs that had killed my husband.

We had ridden for days and were numb with horror and the early spring cold. Both Aragorn and I were sick with the loss of Arathorn and sick with colds and a fever. We had had little time to eat or rest. The rest of the Dunedain had insisted on this unrelenting sprint to the House of Elrond as he had ever offered to succor and aid to those of my husband's line.

Elves! I had never had any dealings with elves. And I was afraid when we got here.

Afraid of their beauty and their quiet and their smooth movements.

It was late evening and the courtyard into which we had rushed was full of milling horses and elves trying to bring calm and order to everything,

I remember very clearly, sitting on my exhausted horse, afraid to move. Afraid I would fall and drop my baby who was fretting with a fever, as we both were.

Suddenly silence reigned, and the crowded parted. By the light of torches I saw the Master of this House make his way to our sides.

I knew it was he, because when he reached my stirrup he said calmly, "Welcome to Rivendell Gilraen. I am Elrond."

I nodded trying to pull my dignity from out under my tired heart. "I thank you." I said, weaving slightly in the saddle, "for your aid. I---" And then little Aragorn wailed and Lord Elrond gently took my child from me. And I let him. He looked down at Aragorn and lay a hand on his forehead.

"He is very ill Gilraen."

I practically fell off my mare then and made to take my child back. "We are both ill! We have had no time to eat or deal with tragedy my lord!" I stood there and then suddenly felt as if the ground was moving and I remember little else.

I awoke, bathed, in a clean chemise and lying in a comfortable bed. Aragorn lay next to me, his breathing dry and raspy from his cold.

I tried to sit up, but was too tired. The room was lit by one big fat candle at my bedside. I saw a goblet reflecting the light and I tried to reach it, but I was too tired and I could not judge the distance correctly.

And a hand came out of the darkness and picked up the goblet.

Terrified, I struggled to sit up and into the light of the candle stepped the Master of the House, Lord Elrond.

"Let me help you." He said quietly. My head was whirling too much for me to stop him and he helped to sit up and drink the cordial.

Finished, he lay me back and smiled at me, his expression warm.

"And my-my son?"

"He will be fine in a few days as will you. Sleep now: Your dreams will be restful." Blinking at him confused, he lay a hand across my eyes before I could ask what he meant and I slept.

The next few days were quiet and Aragorn thrived in the peace and warmth, and the regular meals and nap times. I improved steadily too.

I did not know what to say to Lord Elrond. He was always nice and so very silent...no loud gestures or laughs. His movements were gentle and efficient.

Most of the time, Aragorn and I were left alone in our room, but that was all right as both of us needed the rest and sleep.

But by the third day of course, Aragorn had had enough and wanted to explore. I still had a bit of a headache, and he still had a bit of a cough, but I dutifully followed him about the room to make sure he did not hurt himself.

And thus it began.

My son led here in Rivendell, and I followed, a pale unwanted shadow. And though my baby loved me and hugged me at night, during the daylight hours his eyes were only on the elves and Lord Elrond. I was there only to rein him in if he became too boisterous.

My life had changed. No longer was I the center of my husband and my child's loves. I was now an outsider.

And on my own.