HOPE
They call him Hope now.
He hardly remembers the name he was given, the proud and strong name that fitted him so well… As he hardly remembers the father that gave him the name.
The words he learns now are all Elvish.
Nana, he calls me. Nana.
Does he even remember the first word he ever spoke?
Call me mummy, my Aragorn. Call me mummy, like you used to…
They call him Hope now.
He was my hope once. When he was still inside my stomach and Arathorn placed his hands upon it… it seemed impossible to believe we would not have a future… That a single arrow could end it all.
Even though my father had foreseen my love would not live long, I had hope… my stomach was growing, and my father had not foreseen a child…
Perhaps the child would keep Arathorn home more often, perhaps then he would not be hurt…
But it seems not even the hopeful can escape fate.
Aragorn, your daddy left us. Stay with me. Don't leave me…
They call him Hope now.
I know why his identity must be hidden. He is so small a child and a single arrow can end a life. I know that better than anything.
But he is not Hope, he is Aragorn. My Aragorn, and it is not Elrond that is his parent, it is me. He cannot steal my child like this.
I know we must keep his identity a secret, but must we truly take it away from him?
He cannot be Elrond's son, nor an elf, and to try will only make him unhappy, insecure, a failure…
Aragorn, my Aragorn, there is nothing wrong with being human, son.
They call him Hope now, and they have taken him inside their home and family, he calls them his father and his brothers.
I suppose I should be grateful he is safe.
I suppose I should be grateful for the secret as well.
So why does it hurt so much when he looks up at Elrond with so much love…
Why does it tear my soul apart to see him so happy?
Aragorn, my Aragorn… Do not forget who you are…
They call him Hope now.
And I guess it fits, for it is what I have lost since I have lived here.
