To Keep Hope for Myself

Rated: T (for character death)

Disclaimer: They are not mine. The words of Gilraen's parents are taken from the "Tale of Aragorn and Arwen".

Summary: Arathorn dies and Gilraen brings their little son to Rivendell. Gilraen's point of view.

Warnings: Yes, character death. Arathorn dies, I couldn't save him no matter how much I wanted. It will be helpful if you have read the "Tale of Aragorn and Arwen" from the Appendices. There are many references to it and it will be confusing if you haven't read it.

Note: This was written for Teitho challenge "Maidens in Middle-earth". It is very different from anything I have written so far. Not only it is in first person, the main character is Gilraen (Aragorn's mother, in case you don't know), but also the style is completely different. I would love to see what you think.

Note 2: Main characters are Gilraen and Aragorn, but somehow Gilraen doesn't appear in the characters section, so I couldn't select her.

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Every time he leaves I think of my father's words, and my heart freezes in mute terror. My father was against me marring Arathorn, but not only because I was too young to marry. For he possessed the gift of foresight and said something which gives my mind no peace.

Moreover, Arathorn is a stern man of full age, and will be chieftain sooner than men looked for; yet my heart forebodes mat he will be shortlived.

And he leaves again. He kisses our son, smiles at me and tells me not to worry. But I cannot. Day after day I stand by the window and stare at the distance, waiting to hear his voice once again, to see his eyes smile at me. Until he returns.

He will be shortlived.

Every time I pray to the Valar – not this time, not this time! Please, bring him back to me! For me. For our son. Not this time!

I look at my son, sleeping peacefully in his cradle. When he was born, Aragorn brought us so much light and hope, and now I begin to understand my mother's words.

The days are darkening before the storm, and great things are to come. If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts.

And when I look at this sleeping child, still blissfully ignorant of all the turmoil around him, I know that she has been right.

Hope may be born for our people.

And Hope was born.

But I didn't marry Arathorn because of my mother's prophecy. I married him because of his nobleness and valor, of his braveness and honesty. Because of the smile on his lips every time he looks at my face, because of the gentleness of his hands every time he caresses my hair.

And his eyes. Those deep grey eyes that have always reminded me of the Sea on a stormy day. I have never been at the Sea, but every time I see it in my dreams it is beautiful and magnificent. It can be deadly and threatening, and yet gentle and loving. Just like his eyes.

And every time he leaves I pray that I will see those eyes again. At least one more time, one more time before the end. Don't take him from me! Not this time. Please. Not this time. Not ever.

I see his horse. He dismounts and walks to me, tall and proud. I scream in joy and relief and rush towards him. He lifts my chin and his stormy eyes lock with mine. His hand moves up and gently brushes away a stray tear from my cheek. He smiles lovingly.

And I smile back.

Thank you. Thank you for bringing him back to me.

…

He leaves again. The sons of Lord Elrond are with him, and for this I am glad. They have always been kind to our family and have helped us in times of great need.

I stare through the window, trying to see beyond the forest and beyond the trees. And I know that my heart will find no peace until he returns.

He will be shortlived.

I look at them as they ride away, taking a half of my heart.

But the other half is left right here, right in the cradle in the corner of the dark room. Aragorn wakes and looks at me with curious grey eyes. His father's eyes, the color of the Great Sea on a stormy day.

"Good mowning, nana! Whewe is ada?" The child blabbers. He is merely two, but he had seen too much horror for his age. I have always tried to keep him away from battles and grief, but they are all around us and we cannot escape them.

"Your father left, darling," I answer and kiss him on the forehead. "Why don't you go back to sleep? It is not dawn yet."

He jumps from his cradle and looks around. "But I don't want to! I want to gwow big and stwong like ada!" He starts running around the room. Suddenly he stops and grabs a spoon from the table. "This is my swowd, nana!" He announces happily. "Yestewday I fought with big owcs and I killed them!"

"How many orcs did you kill, my brave warrior?" I ask.

He starts thinking and puts a thumb in his month, which makes him look a few months younger. "One, and one, and one…" he starts counting, his finger still in his month.

I smile at him and go to prepare something to eat. But his next question makes me freeze.

"When will he be back?"

When will Arathorn be back? Might be in days, might be in weeks, but I am afraid to answer. For I also bear the gift, or curse, of foresight. And I sense that this time something will be different.

"I am going to fight some mowe owcs, nana!" He blabbers and rushes into the other room, fiercely swinging the spoon. Fortunately he had forgotten his question already.

And I stare through the window and wait. Hours turn to days, days turn to weeks. Still there is no news.

I turn back and feel tears of fear sting my eyes. I take a few steps to the other room to call Aragorn for a meal, but I stop when I hear soft sounds in front of the door. I rush and open it. Two gray eyes stare at me.

Elladan.

His gaze is sad and he refuses to meet my eyes. "He is gone, Gilraen." His voice is barely above a whisper. "I am sorry."

He is gone.

He will be shortlived.

He is gone.

Elladan speaks to me, but I cannot hear him. The world is spinning around me. I feel that I am falling and I grab a chair to steady myself. The room feels like the Great Sea. But not gentle and loving this time. And I am sinking. Like a stone.

Elladan's words begin to reach my mind and I can register a few phrases. Elrohir had remained with the rangers. He would help them take care of the wounded and bring back the dead.

Bring back the dead.

But there is something else Elladan says that makes my heart scream.

He has been shot in the eye. This beautiful eye, the color of the Sea on a stormy day. Those eyes will never open again. They will never look at me with a loving smile. Never again will I sink in their grey depths.

Never again.

The other door opens and Aragorn runs into the room, laughing happily. He hadn't heard the news and I do not know how to tell him. But now my heart clenches with a new ache.

You will never again lay eyes on our son, my love. Never again will you see him smile. And never will you see him grow to a man.

And then I make a silent vow. I will look at him for both of us. You will see him through my eyes, my love. You will see how he laughs, how he grows up and turns into a man.

I see my son stop and stare at Elladan with a curious expression. He points a little finger at his face. "Nana, Ewohiw is hewe," he blabbers and I feel the ghost of a smile form on my lips at his attempt to say 'Elrohir'. It is amazing how this child can always bring a smile on my face. Even in the darkest moment when the Sun seems too far away to see me and grace me with her light, he can still bring light to my heart. Hope when all hope is lost.

Hope may be born for our people.

And, indeed, Hope was born. He is standing right in front of me, looking curiously at Lord Elrond's son.

"This is Elladan, darling," I correct him softly, not trusting my voice.

"Ewohiw," Aragorn repeats stubbornly, and I can see amusement in the elf's eyes. But then they turn serious once again and he looks at my child.

"He must be brought to safety," he says. "We have to take him to Imladris."

Safety. Why didn't you keep my husband in safety, I want to shout at him. Why did you let him die? But I try to push those thoughts away for the son of Elrond bears no guilt. But I cannot help the tears that well in my eyes and threaten to fall down.

Safety. Home. Those words are foreign to me now. My heart has been ripped out of my chest and fed to the wolves.

But then I look at him. I look at this little face, at those smiling eyes, and I know that I have to move on. For him. For my child.

I am suddenly taken out of my thoughts as I hear his sweet babbling once again. But when I realize what he is asking, I can feel a dagger pierce my heart.

"Ewohiw, whewe is ada?"

"He is not here, little one," Elladan replies gently, seemingly not bothered that the child has the wrong name. "We must leave now. We will go to a beautiful place where you can play as much as you want. I am sure you will like it a lot."

My heart is filled with gratitude to Elladan. I look at him and hope that my eyes will tell him what my voice cannot.

"But I don't want to play!" My two-year-old son answers proudly. "I am not a child! I am a big and bwave man, and I want to fight evil owcs!"

And now I cannot stop the tears that flow freely down my cheeks. Your father wanted the same, my little treasure. And I lost him. I cannot lose you. Never.

Aragorn suddenly looks at me and sees my tears. I try to hide them, to look away, but it is already too late. His expression changes and his stormy eyes lock with mine.

"Don't cwy, nana! Don't be afwaid! I'll pwotect you fwom the owcs!"

I gasp and feel my tears stop. My little light. My little hope. I don't know how he does it, but he can always make me smile.

"I am not afraid as long as you are here," I whisper softly. "My brave little hero."

…

We are riding towards Imladris, but we are still far away from safety. I am holding my son, pressing him tightly to my chest. He is sleeping and a smile is gracing his lips, making him look like a little angel.

Elladan is riding next to me. Several times he offers to carry Aragorn, but I refuse. I need my son now, I need to feel him here, right next to me, to feel his little heart beating. When all else is taken from me, I need to know that I still have him.

The ride is tiring and my legs are sore. My arms hurt too, but I won't let Elladan hold him instead of me. I need my son.

Suddenly the elf freezes and turns to me, a strange glimmer in his eyes. I stop my steed too and stare forward. I see nothing, and yet can easily guess what is coming our way. Orcs.

Instinctively I pull my little precious bundle closer to my chest. My child is smiling in his innocent sleep, unaware of the danger. My right hand clutches a dagger Arathorn had given me years ago. I have never used it before, but my grip is steady and I know that I would use it if need be. For my son. I am ready.

They are here. Elladan draws his sword and meets them, but I doubt that the elf will be able to stop them all. My horse is frightened and jumps. I feels myself fall and I turn in the air, so that I land on my back and the child lands on my chest. A sharp pain flares through my entire body, and I know that I have a broken shoulder blade.

Aragorn awakens and looks around. His gray eyes widen as he sees the orcs and he looks at me frightened. "Whewe awe we, nana?" He asks, and his voice sounds insecure.

"We will be safe, my little one, don't be afraid," I say softly, hoping that I am not making an idle promise. Suddenly I see an orc running towards us, and I hear my own terrified scream. I grab Aragorn and run, not knowing where I am headed. My child is crying in my arms, but I have no time to comfort him, neither have I time to care about the burning pain in my shoulder.

I see a tree and run towards it. I try to climb, but I cannot with the child in my arms. The orc is here. I stretch my arms up and place Aragorn on the highest branch I can reach. He is not crying anymore, only staring at me with huge, scared eyes.

I turn and face the orc. Everything seems like a haze to me, and I cannot think clearly. All my moves are guided by pure instinct.

The instinct of a lioness protecting her cub.

My dagger goes through the orc's eye. Through his ugly little eye. But my blow is not strong enough to kill him and the blinded orc cries in rage. His only eye left glares at me with hatred and desire for revenge.

I suddenly see him fall and Elladan rushes to my side. He is asking me questions, asking if I am wounded. But I do not hear him. I stretch my arms towards my trembling child, towards my little light. My shoulder screams at me, but I ignore it. I take him in my arms and he is not trembling anymore. He is safe. My hope is safe.

This is all that matters.

…

Lord Elrond meets us and we are welcomed at the Last Homely House. My son is taken from me, and I am led to the healing wing for my shoulder blade has been broken indeed. Before I leave the Lord of Imladris puts a gentle hand on my forearm. "You are safe here, my Lady," he says, his voice soft and soothing.

But I can hide my emotions no more. Suddenly I bury my face in the elf lord's chest with a soft sob, not caring if it would seem inappropriate. But he understands. An arm is gently wrapped around me and I can hear his voice in my ear.

"He will find happiness here. But he must be kept safe. His true name will remain secret to hide him from the eyes of the Enemy."

We go silent. We both know what his new name will be. There is only one name that truly fits him.

"What will become of him?" I manage to ask in between sobs. "He has no father."

Lord Elrond pulls back, so that his grey eyes look into mine.

"I will be a father to him, Gilraen," he says softly. "I promise."

…

And now I look at my son, lying in his cradle, looking at me with those eyes so big, the color of the Sea on a stormy day. "I like it hewe, nana!" He blabbers. "Ewohiw told me he will teach me to fight with a swowd!"

"This was Elladan, Estel," I correct him. He has quickly grown used to his new name. I have quickly grown used to it as well. For it is not new to me. Aragorn has always been estel to me, even in the moments of darkest despair.

I sing a lullaby and he falls asleep. I gaze at my son and even though my foresight is not as strong as my forefathers', I can clearly see images of his future.

I see him grow into a man, proud and tall, just and valiant. I see him rise above all Men of our time. I see him suffer, and I see him smile. I see him fight for what he holds dear. I see him loved by his friends, and feared by his enemies, but respected by all.

I see pain and I see glory. I see his future.

But I am no part of it.

He will grieve and laugh, he will fall and rise again. But I will not be there. I will not be there to comfort him in his sorrow, I will not be there to share his happiness.

His eyes will always shine, grey and deep like the Sea on a stormy day. But they will shine for others. Not for me.

I gently caress his dark hair. "I wish I could walk your road with you, my son. I wish I could hold your hand and offer you my love in times of need. But I cannot. You will walk your path alone, my hope, and you will go where I cannot follow."

Onen i-Estel Edain, u-chebin estel anim. I gave Hope to the Dunedain, I have kept no hope for myself.

His stirs in his sleep, and I hold his hand, afraid that he might be troubled by nightmares. But then a smile forms on his small lips, and I smile with him. He squeezes tightly my finger, and I try to pull it out of his little fist, but I cannot. He is so strong for a baby! My brave protector.

Cool breeze blows through the window and dries away the tears that had rolled down my cheeks. I bent forward and kiss his brow.

"Sleep, Estel," I whisper, afraid that my heart will burst, overcome with emotion. "You will always be my star when all other lights fade. You will always be my hope."

THE END

As I said, this is VERY different from my other stories, and I'm not sure about it at all. Please, tell me what you think.

To all readers of "Faces of Darkness": I am afraid you'll have to wait a bit more for the next chapter. I don't think I'll be able to write as often as I want those days. But, believe me, I will miss you more than you will miss the next chapter, so I'll do my best to finish it soon.

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