It was his voice.
I have heard many sing the Lay of Leithian in my presence, thinking to gain approbation by comparing me to Luthien. Who, I wonder, truly wants to be compared to an elleth who abandoned her people, her family, and most of all herself in order to die?
I despise the song and have always loathed the fact that I am Undomiel. It is no comfort to me, knowing that everything I know and love is fading. That I am fading.
But his voice….
I had been wandering the gardens of Imladris, revisiting my favorite childhood haunts. I was just walking back up to the House in order to greet the rest of Imladris and to meet the little brother the twins had been going on about for years.
With that vague thought in mind, I did not expect to hear the voice. Nor did I expect the Man that it came from.
I mean, I knew it was not an Elf's voice. There was too much…life in it for that. Too much passion. The Lay is almost sacred to the Elves, yet here there was someone singing it with abandon. Almost carelessly. It was refreshing.
I followed the voice and found myself face to face with Aragorn. Neither Elf nor Man, but something in between. The passion and vitality of the Secondborn combined with the knowledge of the First, despite his tender years.
He was different. Unique. And I liked that. Not like me, a mere copy of another. He was new. And after nearly 3,000 years, it is almost impossible to find something new.
He was shy, yes, and tongue tied. But there was something about him that intrigued me. We became good friends, I think, during that visit.