Aragorn quickened his pace as he reached the trail. It was a very familiar
path to him – leading down into the valley of Rivendell. He was looking
forward to the end of this journey & the chance to spend some time with his
mother. And, perhaps, she might be there …
He stopped abruptly. Something had caught his attention. But, what? He scanned his surroundings, eyes & ears alert.
There it was again: a faint thread of sound off to one side. Aragorn quietly left the trail to investigate. He cautiously made his way through the rocks & paused on the edge of a small clearing. A man & woman were laying face down on the far side. Quickly looking around, Aragorn decided it was safe enough & hurried to kneel beside the man. He was dead, although not for too long. The woman, curled up between two boulders, was dead as well. Aragorn scanned the surroundings again. Who had done this – & who had made the sound he'd heard. Not these two.
He heard it again & spun around. It had come from the woman! He returned to her side. Gently lifting her, he found a small bundle that she'd been huddled over. He scooped it up to find a little baby, mewling faintly, wrapped in a blanket. The tiny thing was damp & cold, & obviously unhappy. Then it opened its eyes to look straight into Aragorn's. The crying stopped as the baby stared up at him, almost solemnly. He stroked the little one's cheek with one finger. The baby grabbed at it & tried to pull it into his/her mouth.
Aragorn quickly shed his cloak to wrap the little one in it. Awkwardly cradling the baby in one arm, he hurried back to the trail. He sensed if the baby was to have any chance of surviving, he had to get it to Rivendell as quickly as possible.
Aragorn's appearance in the courtyard sparked a flurry of activity. He sent some of Elrond's household back to where the parents lay, to bring their bodies in. As he strode toward the main house, the Master of Rivendell appeared at the top of the stairs.
"What have you there, my son?" he asked.
"A baby," Aragorn replied quickly. "I found it nigh the eastern trail. Its parents are dead."
Gilraen had appeared behind Elrond. Hearing her son's words, she held out her arms. "Poor thing. Give her to me."
The baby was indeed a little girl. Once in Gilraen's care, she was bathed & warmed & fussed over. When Aragorn saw her again, she was nestled in his mother's arms sucking on a milk bladder that someone had managed to come up with. When Aragorn came near, the little one stopped, looked up at him with wide blue-grey eyes & waved her tiny arms in his direction, cooing excitedly
Elrond, who'd been seated opposite Gilraen, watched this curiously. How odd that this tiny thing seemed to recognize her rescuer.
"They have brought her parents in," Aragorn reported to his foster father. "But no one knows who they are or how they came to be there."
Elrond nodded. "They shall be laid to rest here, then."
Both men turned their attention back to the baby who'd fallen asleep. "Poor little one," Aragorn said quietly. "We don't even know her name."
"Will you not name her, Master Elrond?" Gilraen asked.
The Elf-lord smiled faintly. "We do need to call her something." He was silent for several moments, considering. "She shall be Silmariën, for the eldest daughter of Tar-Elendil, fourth king of Númenor."
"Silmariën," Gilraen said thoughtfully. "A pretty name, but such a mouthful for so tiny a babe."
Aragorn looked down at the baby girl intently. A foreboding came to him suddenly – that this child & he were somehow bound together. "Why not call her Rána?" he said suddenly.
Both his mother & foster-father looked at him in surprise. "Rána." Gilraen considered it. "Wanderer. Something tells me that will be a most suitable name for her." She met her son's eyes & he realized she sensed the same thing he did.
"Silmariën, called Rána," Elrond pronounced, laying a hand on the baby's head. "So be it."
The baby woke up at his touch & promptly grabbed for his thumb, trying to pull it into her mouth. Elrond looked down at her, startled, then smiled & let her have her way. All three of them started laughing; obviously, this girlchild had no sense of respect.
Aragorn remained in Rivendell for several weeks. He & Elrond's sons spent nearly one full week backtracking along the eastern trail, trying to find some clue that would identify Silmariën's parents. But there was nothing to be found, no hint of who they were or from whence they'd come.
The rest of the time Aragorn spent with his mother & her charge. Almost everyone in the household watched in amusement as the careworn Ranger fell under the spell of the baby girl. In turn, little Silmariën appeared to be utterly enchanted with him– & she always seemed to know when he was near But Elrond watched the pair with some concern. There was something about this child… In the back of his mind he remembered the prophecies of Malbeth & began to search through them.
One afternoon, he joined Gilraen out on one of the terraces overlooking the river. On the level below them, Aragorn had taken charge of a fussy Silmariën & was rocking her in an effort to settle her. The older pair watched this tranquil scene in silence, then Gilraen said quietly, "Estel will make a fine father when the time comes."
"If that time comes," Elrond amended the statement, "I believe you are right.
"Master Elrond …" Gilraen began anxiously.
"My lady, your son & I have spoken on this matter," Elrond responded calmly. "It is unwise for him to take any wife at this time. As for the wife he desires, well, he must prove himself worthy of her. And he knows that."
That evening Aragorn came to Elrond's study.
"Father, may I speak with you?"
"Of course, Estel."
They settled into comfortable chairs that flanked the fireplace. For a while, they sat in silence – Aragorn staring into the flames.
"Estel, my son, what troubles you?" Elrond finally asked.
"Silmariën," he replied quietly. "What will become of her now?"
Elrond frowned thoughtfully. "I am not certain," he replied. "I had thought, perhaps. to foster her with a family in Breeland… or, mayhap, a family among your folk in Fornost would take her in."
It was Aragorn's turn to frown. Somehow, that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. "Could she not stay here in Rivendell – as I once did?"
Elrond sighed. Raising another human child….? "I do not know, my son, if that would be a wise thing to do."
"Why?" Aragorn looked him directly in the eye. "I was raised here."
Elrond took a deep breath. He was not sure he wanted to explain what he had learned to his mortal-born fosterling. He decided to sidestep that issue – for the moment. "You were brought to us for your own safety. I feel little Silmariën would be better off growing up among humans."
Aragorn returned his attention to the fire. He sat silent for a much longer time, then seemed to come to a decision. "Master Elrond… Father … I know you have advised me that I should not take a wife at this time. But, would it be permitted for me to … foster Silmariën?"
Elrond looked at him sharply. "A foundling as your daughter – your heir? I do not think that would be a wise thing, Estel."
Aragorn shook his head. "No, not my daughter. Say rather… my sister."
"Look at me, my son," Elrond commanded. Aragorn met his eyes steadily. "Why do you wish to do this?"
Aragorn's eyes clouded. "I cannot say … for certain. It is just … I have the strangest feeling we are bound together somehow…"
"A foresight?"
"I do not think I would call it that. I cannot see anything very clearly."
Elrond sighed. If not for what he had discovered just this morning, he would dismiss the matter entirely. And he knew he could no longer keep it from his fosterling. "I have something to show you, my son," he said in a low voice.
Getting up, he went back to his desk & quickly sorted through the papers & scrolls littering it. He picked up a sheet of parchment & returned to his seat by the fire.
"When you brought Silmariën to us, I had a foreboding of my own, tied to something I vaguely remembered reading in the Prophecies of Malbeth." He handed the sheet to Aragorn. "See for yourself."
Aragorn had always found Malbeth's words disturbing. So he began to read with some trepidation:
When doom approaches, a child shall be found:
of Elendil's line, but not of Elendil's blood.
Motherless, fatherless shall she be;
Heir's protector shall she become.
When Enemy threatens harm,
Courageous heart shall shield and preserve;
cunning mind shall aid Elendil's heir.
"You were not going to tell me of this?" Aragorn asked heatedly after several long minutes. "Why, Father?"
It was Elrond's turn to stare into the flames & he said nothing for the longest time. Just as Aragorn was about to break the silence himself, the Lord of Imladris spoke.
"Dark forebodings have begun to fill my heart, Estel," his voice was low, worried. "In my heart of hearts, I have begun to feel fear – for you, for all our people, for Middle Earth itself. But the feelings were dim, vague – until you brought Silmariën into our midst. They have grown stronger now. And, yes, I also sensed a link between you & her. In the back of my mind, I remembered Malbeth speaking of a girlchild. So I began to search for that particular prophecy. I only now found it."
He raised his eyes to look at the man he'd come to love as dearly as any of his own children. "While you were away, I spoke with Mithrandir. Both he & Galadriel feel as I do. Our final battle against the Dark Lord may be approaching."
"Is that not something to be desired?" Aragorn asked.
"I do not know," Elrond said heavily. "Estel – my son," he paused, not sure how to say what was in his heart. "I have seen a hard road ahead for you – but no ending…"
He got up abruptly & went to a nearby window to stare out at the night sky.
Aragorn took a deep breath, shocked by the words. "You have seen my doom, then?"
"No!" Elrond replied sharply. "I have seen … nothing! Not good, not evil, just … nothing. Elbereth will not give me that knowledge."
An uneasy silence filled the room. Aragorn did not know what to say to his foster father. Finally he asked, "Does my mother know?"
"No! I would not dream of troubling her with my … concerns." Elrond turned back, an uncertain smile on his lips. "For all I know, the final battle may indeed be nigh – & you will emerge utterly victorious…"
"But,…"
"But, there is no certainty in the matter. In truth, there is no certainty in anything that lies ahead. However, if it is still your desire to foster Silmariën – as your sister, I will not object. But you must understand one thing: IF she is to be the child of Malbeth's prophecy, she will not have a normal upbringing. She will have to be trained as a warrior – as a Ranger. It will not be an easy path for her – or for you. Are you willing to accept that?"
Aragorn closed his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "Aye. With your help, & my brothers' & my men, it will be done." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "It should prove to be interesting."
He stopped abruptly. Something had caught his attention. But, what? He scanned his surroundings, eyes & ears alert.
There it was again: a faint thread of sound off to one side. Aragorn quietly left the trail to investigate. He cautiously made his way through the rocks & paused on the edge of a small clearing. A man & woman were laying face down on the far side. Quickly looking around, Aragorn decided it was safe enough & hurried to kneel beside the man. He was dead, although not for too long. The woman, curled up between two boulders, was dead as well. Aragorn scanned the surroundings again. Who had done this – & who had made the sound he'd heard. Not these two.
He heard it again & spun around. It had come from the woman! He returned to her side. Gently lifting her, he found a small bundle that she'd been huddled over. He scooped it up to find a little baby, mewling faintly, wrapped in a blanket. The tiny thing was damp & cold, & obviously unhappy. Then it opened its eyes to look straight into Aragorn's. The crying stopped as the baby stared up at him, almost solemnly. He stroked the little one's cheek with one finger. The baby grabbed at it & tried to pull it into his/her mouth.
Aragorn quickly shed his cloak to wrap the little one in it. Awkwardly cradling the baby in one arm, he hurried back to the trail. He sensed if the baby was to have any chance of surviving, he had to get it to Rivendell as quickly as possible.
Aragorn's appearance in the courtyard sparked a flurry of activity. He sent some of Elrond's household back to where the parents lay, to bring their bodies in. As he strode toward the main house, the Master of Rivendell appeared at the top of the stairs.
"What have you there, my son?" he asked.
"A baby," Aragorn replied quickly. "I found it nigh the eastern trail. Its parents are dead."
Gilraen had appeared behind Elrond. Hearing her son's words, she held out her arms. "Poor thing. Give her to me."
The baby was indeed a little girl. Once in Gilraen's care, she was bathed & warmed & fussed over. When Aragorn saw her again, she was nestled in his mother's arms sucking on a milk bladder that someone had managed to come up with. When Aragorn came near, the little one stopped, looked up at him with wide blue-grey eyes & waved her tiny arms in his direction, cooing excitedly
Elrond, who'd been seated opposite Gilraen, watched this curiously. How odd that this tiny thing seemed to recognize her rescuer.
"They have brought her parents in," Aragorn reported to his foster father. "But no one knows who they are or how they came to be there."
Elrond nodded. "They shall be laid to rest here, then."
Both men turned their attention back to the baby who'd fallen asleep. "Poor little one," Aragorn said quietly. "We don't even know her name."
"Will you not name her, Master Elrond?" Gilraen asked.
The Elf-lord smiled faintly. "We do need to call her something." He was silent for several moments, considering. "She shall be Silmariën, for the eldest daughter of Tar-Elendil, fourth king of Númenor."
"Silmariën," Gilraen said thoughtfully. "A pretty name, but such a mouthful for so tiny a babe."
Aragorn looked down at the baby girl intently. A foreboding came to him suddenly – that this child & he were somehow bound together. "Why not call her Rána?" he said suddenly.
Both his mother & foster-father looked at him in surprise. "Rána." Gilraen considered it. "Wanderer. Something tells me that will be a most suitable name for her." She met her son's eyes & he realized she sensed the same thing he did.
"Silmariën, called Rána," Elrond pronounced, laying a hand on the baby's head. "So be it."
The baby woke up at his touch & promptly grabbed for his thumb, trying to pull it into her mouth. Elrond looked down at her, startled, then smiled & let her have her way. All three of them started laughing; obviously, this girlchild had no sense of respect.
Aragorn remained in Rivendell for several weeks. He & Elrond's sons spent nearly one full week backtracking along the eastern trail, trying to find some clue that would identify Silmariën's parents. But there was nothing to be found, no hint of who they were or from whence they'd come.
The rest of the time Aragorn spent with his mother & her charge. Almost everyone in the household watched in amusement as the careworn Ranger fell under the spell of the baby girl. In turn, little Silmariën appeared to be utterly enchanted with him– & she always seemed to know when he was near But Elrond watched the pair with some concern. There was something about this child… In the back of his mind he remembered the prophecies of Malbeth & began to search through them.
One afternoon, he joined Gilraen out on one of the terraces overlooking the river. On the level below them, Aragorn had taken charge of a fussy Silmariën & was rocking her in an effort to settle her. The older pair watched this tranquil scene in silence, then Gilraen said quietly, "Estel will make a fine father when the time comes."
"If that time comes," Elrond amended the statement, "I believe you are right.
"Master Elrond …" Gilraen began anxiously.
"My lady, your son & I have spoken on this matter," Elrond responded calmly. "It is unwise for him to take any wife at this time. As for the wife he desires, well, he must prove himself worthy of her. And he knows that."
That evening Aragorn came to Elrond's study.
"Father, may I speak with you?"
"Of course, Estel."
They settled into comfortable chairs that flanked the fireplace. For a while, they sat in silence – Aragorn staring into the flames.
"Estel, my son, what troubles you?" Elrond finally asked.
"Silmariën," he replied quietly. "What will become of her now?"
Elrond frowned thoughtfully. "I am not certain," he replied. "I had thought, perhaps. to foster her with a family in Breeland… or, mayhap, a family among your folk in Fornost would take her in."
It was Aragorn's turn to frown. Somehow, that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. "Could she not stay here in Rivendell – as I once did?"
Elrond sighed. Raising another human child….? "I do not know, my son, if that would be a wise thing to do."
"Why?" Aragorn looked him directly in the eye. "I was raised here."
Elrond took a deep breath. He was not sure he wanted to explain what he had learned to his mortal-born fosterling. He decided to sidestep that issue – for the moment. "You were brought to us for your own safety. I feel little Silmariën would be better off growing up among humans."
Aragorn returned his attention to the fire. He sat silent for a much longer time, then seemed to come to a decision. "Master Elrond… Father … I know you have advised me that I should not take a wife at this time. But, would it be permitted for me to … foster Silmariën?"
Elrond looked at him sharply. "A foundling as your daughter – your heir? I do not think that would be a wise thing, Estel."
Aragorn shook his head. "No, not my daughter. Say rather… my sister."
"Look at me, my son," Elrond commanded. Aragorn met his eyes steadily. "Why do you wish to do this?"
Aragorn's eyes clouded. "I cannot say … for certain. It is just … I have the strangest feeling we are bound together somehow…"
"A foresight?"
"I do not think I would call it that. I cannot see anything very clearly."
Elrond sighed. If not for what he had discovered just this morning, he would dismiss the matter entirely. And he knew he could no longer keep it from his fosterling. "I have something to show you, my son," he said in a low voice.
Getting up, he went back to his desk & quickly sorted through the papers & scrolls littering it. He picked up a sheet of parchment & returned to his seat by the fire.
"When you brought Silmariën to us, I had a foreboding of my own, tied to something I vaguely remembered reading in the Prophecies of Malbeth." He handed the sheet to Aragorn. "See for yourself."
Aragorn had always found Malbeth's words disturbing. So he began to read with some trepidation:
When doom approaches, a child shall be found:
of Elendil's line, but not of Elendil's blood.
Motherless, fatherless shall she be;
Heir's protector shall she become.
When Enemy threatens harm,
Courageous heart shall shield and preserve;
cunning mind shall aid Elendil's heir.
"You were not going to tell me of this?" Aragorn asked heatedly after several long minutes. "Why, Father?"
It was Elrond's turn to stare into the flames & he said nothing for the longest time. Just as Aragorn was about to break the silence himself, the Lord of Imladris spoke.
"Dark forebodings have begun to fill my heart, Estel," his voice was low, worried. "In my heart of hearts, I have begun to feel fear – for you, for all our people, for Middle Earth itself. But the feelings were dim, vague – until you brought Silmariën into our midst. They have grown stronger now. And, yes, I also sensed a link between you & her. In the back of my mind, I remembered Malbeth speaking of a girlchild. So I began to search for that particular prophecy. I only now found it."
He raised his eyes to look at the man he'd come to love as dearly as any of his own children. "While you were away, I spoke with Mithrandir. Both he & Galadriel feel as I do. Our final battle against the Dark Lord may be approaching."
"Is that not something to be desired?" Aragorn asked.
"I do not know," Elrond said heavily. "Estel – my son," he paused, not sure how to say what was in his heart. "I have seen a hard road ahead for you – but no ending…"
He got up abruptly & went to a nearby window to stare out at the night sky.
Aragorn took a deep breath, shocked by the words. "You have seen my doom, then?"
"No!" Elrond replied sharply. "I have seen … nothing! Not good, not evil, just … nothing. Elbereth will not give me that knowledge."
An uneasy silence filled the room. Aragorn did not know what to say to his foster father. Finally he asked, "Does my mother know?"
"No! I would not dream of troubling her with my … concerns." Elrond turned back, an uncertain smile on his lips. "For all I know, the final battle may indeed be nigh – & you will emerge utterly victorious…"
"But,…"
"But, there is no certainty in the matter. In truth, there is no certainty in anything that lies ahead. However, if it is still your desire to foster Silmariën – as your sister, I will not object. But you must understand one thing: IF she is to be the child of Malbeth's prophecy, she will not have a normal upbringing. She will have to be trained as a warrior – as a Ranger. It will not be an easy path for her – or for you. Are you willing to accept that?"
Aragorn closed his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "Aye. With your help, & my brothers' & my men, it will be done." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "It should prove to be interesting."