Making of a King

"Leave this place Estel and never darken that archway again or I will have no choice but to kill you!"

"No! Father, stop it! If you banish him you banish me too! Please!" Tears blurred the young woman's stunning features as she clung to the richly embroidered sleeve of a tall man with long brown hair. His face was twisted in anger, his eyes black coals staring uncaringly at the young man in from of him, who must have only been nineteen years old.

"Father please allow yourself to calm down and think about this, he is are brother!"

"Do not question me Elrohir!" His face had calmed now looking even more dangerous. "Do not question me."

Aragorn woke with a start drawing his sword. Glancing around for an enemy that didn't exist. His hair fell across his eyes, he had dreamed of it again. The moment of banishment from Rivendel, he shook himself that was unimportant. But the tear-streaked face of the young lady remained in his head reminding him of what he had caused. Ten years it had been, ten long years. He was unrecognizable to the tall, skinny, foolish boy of his past. Now at twenty-nine he was lean and muscular. His clothes once had been trimmed with gold now they were rugged and simple. His face had aged he had grown out his hair and stubble covered his chin.

The most aged thing in his face was his eye's once young and full of life, and foolish dreams. Now they were dark and wise they eyes of one who had seen much battle. The years of exile had been hard and taught him much. He had joined the ranger of the North. Few could best him with the blade and none at tracking.

Aragorn pushed open the flap of his tent glancing around the camp. He didn't like these meetings beside the fact that something almost always went wrong it was far out of his way and winter was coming on fast. He pulled his hood over his head throwing his face into darkness only his chin and the burning coals of his eyes were visible. Turned to his right he headed for the pub lighting his pipe as he went.

The pub was lively and full. Aragorn made his way to a dark corner of the room to be left alone with his thoughts.

A rider approached the encampment. His features were hidden buy a satin hood that connected to a cap flowing over his body and the hindquarters of a white horse. The material had once been fine but the weather and hard riding had all but destroyed it.

As he drew nearer to the camp men appeared from tents staring with cold eyes as the unexpected visitor.

"Who are you, and why have you come here?" A ranger disentangled himself from the mass of people to approach the horse. Slowly drawing his sword in a menacing fashion.

"I am Elrohir son of Elrond," He said throwing back his hood. There was a collective gasp as he revealed pointed ears. "I come seeking a man named Estel. I have traveled very far and have heard that he may have joined the Rangers of the North. Are you not them?"

"I am Nulain," he said as he sheathed his blade. "We are the rangers you seek, although, I regret to say I have not heard of a man named Estel and I have been around many a year."

"He would have joined about ten years ago." He said persistently as he dismounted, "He may have changed his name."

"Hmmm, ten years ago. Do you say?" He scratched he chin thinking hard. "Hey Rennor!" He yelled loudly over his shoulder. A man detached himself from the group of men who had been listening intently to the conversation. "Ten years ago was around the time Strider joined in it?" The man thought for a second then nodded glancing between him and the elf.

"Do you believe that could be him?" The elf inquired eyes darting between the two. Rennor and Nulain both through their heads back and laughed.

"Oh, Strider," Nulain chuckled, "raised by elves! No, no but he knows everyone. If you boy came when he was here Strider will know him." The young elf followed Rennor through the maze of tents.

"So what is this strider like anyway?" The elf glanced around the camp, as they walked.

"Oh, Strider, he keeps to himself. Doesn't talk that much but when he does people listen. And it battle…" Rennor shivered. "Lets just say that I am glad he is on are side if you know what I mean." Rennor stopped abruptly at a small gray tent that looked almost identical to all the others. "Here we are," he said turning to the look at the elf, "good luck." And with that he turned leaving the now highly apprehensive elf alone in front of the tent. He stood there for a couple of minutes weighing the pros and cons.

"Well, are you going in or are we just going to stand here all night." A low voice sounded from behind him causing him to jump. The elf twirled around coming face to face with a tall man with dark hair that matched his dark eyes. His clothing was well worn and old and yet it suited him well. He had the air of one who had seen much and learned a great deal. Who it this man?

"Elrohir," he said extending his hand honoring the men's tradition. The strange man extended his own bowing his head slightly.

"Strider," with this he pushed past disappearing into the tent in front of him.