Disclaimer: All the characters and settings used belong to Tolkien Estate. I don't own any of it.
"Estel."
The tiny boy child raised his head and shook strands of jet coloured hair away from his face, huge grey eyes looking up uncomprehendingly. "What is that?" The child asked.
"It means hope." The elf-lord explained with a small smile.
The child scrunched up his face in thought, and finally he declared, "I like it. It is a good word."
"It shall be your name, little one." The elf-lord said gravely.
The child protested, "But I already have a name!"
The elf-lord seemed for a moment faintly surprised and fearful. "What is your name then, child?" He asked.
The tiny boy frowned and thought mightily hard, and at last he said with an unbecoming sigh, "I can not remember. It is a long name. Father always remembers it. But he is not here any more. Do you remember my name, Lord Elrond?"
"No, my child." The elf-lord lied. "But can we call you Estel, little one?"
After a moment the child nodded reluctantly, "I suppose. I wish I can remember my name though."
The elf-lord smiled sadly and said, "Worry not, little one. I promise that one day you will remember your name and wear it with pride."
The child clapped his tiny hands together, "It is good. Thank you, Lord Elrond."
"You can call me ada, Estel." The elf-lord said.
"We both get new names?" The boy asked.
"Yes, indeed." Elrond smiled, a slow, warm smile. "We both get new names."
"Strider!"
The fat innkeeper shouted, twisting his somewhat intoxicated tongue around the newly invented word as the young man strode into the inn once more in a flurry of cloak black like raven-wings and long and finely woven hair just as dark, and beneath the shadows moved strong, lean legs like those of a great stag.
"Why are you always in such a hurry on those long shanks of yours, eh, Strider?" The innkeeper reeked of those freshly brewed spring ale even as he spoke.
The young man turned; his grey eyes pierced the shadow of the dingy bar, sharp but amused.
"Strider?" He asked.
"Well, you are always striding about, ain't you?" The fat man said, voice lilting. "And no one strides about as fast as you do either."
The young man laughed, clear voice like the clang of sword and twang of bow. "I have little use of another name conjured up by others." He said. "But my thanks for your kindness nonetheless, good sir."
"Aragorn."
"Son of Arathorn." The elf-lord said solemnly. "Heir of Isildur, son of Elendil, who was the last descendant of the House of Elros, my twin brother. I told you long ago that you would remember the name one day and wear it with pride."
The young man was amazed, and he remained silent. At last he bowed and said, "I think I understand now, Lord Elrond."
"Thorongil."
The old soldier who was also a well versed scholar and bard looked at his captain and murmured dreamily.
"Thorongil?" The young captain turned, laughter in his keen grey eyes. "Is that not of the tongue of the Elves?"
"Indeed, captain." The old soldier nodded eagerly. "It means the eagle of the star in the grey tongue."
"It becomes you well, captain." A young soldier said with a grin. "You always wear that star upon your cloak."
Moved by the affectionate mood, the young captain laughed and asked in jest, "What of the eagle part? Do I seem imposing as an eagle?"
"Just your eyes, captain." The old soldier said, beaming. "They look like eagle's eyes."
The young soldier made a face and said, "Oh dear, Bregol, why must you study captain's eyes like a besotted young maid?"
At this everyone laughed.
"Elessar."
"Is that his name? Strange name it is." The plump mid-aged woman whispered.
"Nay, that is only what the people call him." Her companion, a younger woman, said knowledgably. "It means Elf stone, the wise men said. He wore a great green jewel, a stone made by Elves. He himself has Elvish blood, and he can work such magic!"
"Indeed! You young people with your fancies!"
"Nay, I speak truth!" The young woman objected. "Have you not heard? He came to the city on the black ships of the Corsairs, turning the tide of battle when all seemed lost. He healed Lord Faramir with a touch only. And he raised the old banner of kings!"
"King!" The plump woman started, eyes widening
Her young companion looked lost for a moment, before saying with a shake of her flaxen head, "Elessar. That is what people call him, Elessar."
Envinyatar.
Here lies Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Elessar Telcontar of the Reunified Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor.
King of land; father of people; messenger of hope, bringer of prosperity.
Renewer.
Rest in peace, deeply beloved, in the arms of Eru.