Chapter Twenty-Four

~ Eldarion ~
"My Uncle told me a strange thing. He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken."

"King Théoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

"Then you must be at least sixty. Seventy? But you cannot be eighty!"

I stopped dead in my tracks after hearing the conversation. Turning around slowly, I saw a seeming bemused Èowyn confronting a calm Aragorn.

Lovely. . . I guess that no one has thought to tell the lady about Lady Arwen, I thought, surveying the two. The distress on Èowyn's face made it clear that she felt deeply for Aragorn and that she was shocked all the more by the fact that he was over thrice her age.

That would be an issue.

Èowyn was due to marry Faramir, the steward's son, not Aragorn. I didn't think that the Valar intended that part of history to change, even with so many other parts changing because of Estel's presence and my presence here.

Inching closer, I picked up on the next pieces of the conversation.

"You are one of the Dúnedain," Èowyn was saying now, looking at Aragorn in wonder. "A descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend."

I barely held back a snort. "Legend?" I muttered to myself softly. If the Dúnedain are legends, then I wouldn't be standing here, would I? Looking at Aragorn, I continued, And neither would Aragorn.

"There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago." Aragorn's voice was still calm, but the tone in his voice made it clear that he wasn't ready to talk about this matter.

"Eldarion."

My sister's voice startled me, and I whirled around. She was standing there with a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest in a stunningly good imitation of my grandmother. I smiled sheepishly, not sure what to say.

"Eldarion, eavesdropping is not something the Dúnedain are supposed to do," she said severely, nodding at Èowyn and Aragorn.

I thanked the Valar that Èowyn and Aragorn were too far away to hear this conversation, for there was nothing we could have done to conceal the subject matter of this conversation from them. Not even switching to Elvish would conceal this, for Aragorn knew Elvish better than either of us. His years of practice when being raised in Imladris had given him a foundation that not even I, who had lived among the wardens of Caras Galadhon for eighteen long years, could match.

My smile vanished. "He is our Chieftain, sister." Glancing around, I switched to Elvish. "~And you know how important his marriage with Arwen Undómiel is to our future.~"

"~It still does not give you the right to go eavesdropping,~" she shot back, making the transition to Elvish as easily as I had. Then confusion entered her grey-blue eyes as my last sentence registered with her. "~Wait, what are you talking about?~"

I gestured shortly behind me. "~She was talking to Aragorn. She is upset to discover that she is less than one third of his age.~"

Estel's jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide. "Eldarion, that – that can't happen," she nearly whispered, reverting back to our native tongue in her amazement. "Faramir – "

"~I know. That is why I was eavesdropping.~"

I looked over my shoulder. Èowyn was wandering away from Aragorn, who was trying to eat whatever was in the bowl in his hands.

I was startled to discover that I almost felt sorry for the lady. She was of noble birth, yet few could match her in rank in Rohan that she could marry. And Aragorn was not the most detestable Man either.

"~Brother?~"

Estel's soft voice drew me back. I inclined my head to my sister before striding off.

"~Where are you going?~" she called after me.

"~To speak with Èowyn,~" I answered.

~ Èowyn ~
I wandered away from Lord Aragorn, barely keeping upright from the shock of the revelations. "Eighty-seven," he had said so calmly and nonchalantly. Eighty-seven!!!

He was over three times my age. Three!

I sat down heavily some distance away from Lord Aragorn. He must think me nothing more than a girl enduring a silly, foolish crush, I thought bitterly. I probably wasn't that much more than a child in his eyes anyway, and my infatuation with him probably was helping his opinion of me.

"My lady? Are you all right?"

The soft male voice made me start. I leaped upright, dusting off my dress almost absent-mindedly and blushing furiously.

It was the young Man who had come with Lord Aragorn. I noticed with a pang that he looked almost exactly like Lord Aragorn. His son, maybe? He is old enough to have a couple.

"Yes – yes, I'm fine," I stammered.

One of his eyebrows rose. "Somehow, I doubt that," he said firmly. He lowered his voice. "My lord isn't quite the easiest thing to get used to."

I blinked. Not one Ranger, but two? "You are one of the Dúnedain as well?" I asked quietly, my voice trembling.

His lips tightened. "I wish," he said ruefully. "I'm not quite ready to assume the full duties of a full Ranger, my lady. Even by the standards of Men, I am young."

"How old are you?" I blushed at my bluntness, and made to take the question back, but he merely shrugged.

"A little over thirty," he said casually.

"Ah. You are indeed young." He was older than my brother, but not as far away from me as Lord Aragorn was.

He shrugged once again. "Maybe. In the eyes of the Eldar, I'm barely a child."

I stared. "The Eldar?" I asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. Well, not really stumbling. The word seemed to flow off my tongue; it was just unfamiliar, that was all.

"Ah, forgive me. Sometimes my tongue slips back into the Elvish tongue of my youth. The Eldar are the people of the stars – the Elves."

"You were raised to speak Elvish?"

"Fluently. My whole family spoke it."

I frowned, noting the past tense in which he spoke. "Why do you speak of your family in a past tense?" I inquired lightly.

His grey eyes hardened, and his whole body stiffened at my question. One moment he was calm; the next, slightly scary.

"I mean – if it's something you don't want to talk about – I don't mean to – "

He raised a hand to stop my blabbing just as someone shouted something. I didn't understand the shout, so I assumed that it was in Elvish. This belief was confirmed when he turned and shouted something back in a musical language that sounded suspiciously similar.

When he turned back to me, nothing in his body language indicated that he had been insulted by my questions. He was once again cool, collected, and completely neutral. I could detect nothing of his thoughts or feelings from the mask he wore.

"Excuse me, my lady. I have other business that must be attended to." With those words, he bowed and left me.

~ Aragorn ~
Opening my eyes from the one of my last happy memories of Arwen in Imladris, I reached up to finger the Evenstar pendant hanging around my neck. "~Trust this. Trust us,~" she had said.

But how can you trust something when you fear your judgment is flawed? I was not at all to be considered impartial in the matter of the fate of Arwen Undómiel. Nor was Elrond to be considered impartial, but as her father he had more of a claim on her than I.

Even if I held her heart, and she held mine.

Releasing the jewel, I stowed my pipe away. The caravan to Helm's Deep was resting now, and many of the warriors – bored and needing something to do – were patrolling as guards. Legolas, Eldarion, and I had all volunteered to help as well.

I let my gaze sweep our area and suddenly frowned. Estel was curled up the fire, a blanket draped over her slender figure. Legolas was lying next to her, his eyes glazed in the open eyed sleep of the Elves. But where was Eldarion?

Squinting in the distance, my eyes finally caught sight of Eldarion. I felt my frown deepen as I studied the young Dúnadan. It was well past the time he should have handed over the watch to me. And it wasn't like Eldarion did not need any sleep.

Eldarion's still figure and neutral expression didn't give away anything about his inner thoughts. His weapons were close by, and he was sitting on the ground as if he wasn't on watch but was just sitting there relaxing. In conclusion, to the outsider, Eldarion was the center of calmness, the symbol of serenity.

Unless, of course, you were a Dúnadan.

I could read his turmoil in his clenched jaw, his tight grip, and his raging blue eyes. I could practically smell his confusion rolling off of him in waves.

Eldarion was buried so deeply in his thoughts that he didn't even start when I touched him on the shoulder lightly. I waited patiently for the young Dúnadan to realize I was there, watching him intently. After a few minutes, I grew slightly impatient that his awareness was so close and nudged his foot.

"~Oh! My lord Aragorn – I – I didn't see you,~" Eldarion stuttered suddenly, jumping in surprise.

I raised an eyebrow. "~No, indeed. I am surprised, young one; you seemed to be well trained the skills of the Dúnedain, yet it took a movement on my side to bring you back to the world.~"

Eldarion flushed in the dim firelight. "~I know. But I am not yet a full Dúnadan; my training ended rather abruptly when I turned fifteen.~"

"~Oh?~" I had not heard this part of his story.

Eldarion's features tightened again, and he looked away, refusing to meet my eyes or answer my implied question. I waited patiently; being raised among the Elves, who had forever to get things done, had fostered in me a patience which I was now using to coax answers out of Eldarion.

Finally, when it seemed that my patience would not pay off, Eldarion shifted and began speaking. "~When I was fifteen, my father and I were on a mission to learn the identity of Strider, from whom our family gained the right to take the throne, when a message came to us that told us that my mother and sisters had perished in a fire. My father was filled with guilt and rage, and he threw himself into fighting our enemies. Eventually, his blindness was his undoing, and he was slain.~"

I watched as Eldarion took a deep breath. No doubt the boy had seen his father die. I felt sympathy rise up in me. My father had died when I had been two years old, but since I had been so young I hadn't remembered it.

"~I was forced to flee in the overgrown forests. There are three now, and each covers a separate area that the stewards are especially scared of – Lóthlorien, Imladris, and Mirkwood. The stewards allowed all the surrounding forests to grow unfettered, because they wished to erase all traces of the Elven havens. But they also have individual fears of each place.~"

"~Like what?~" I was amused by his naming of the Elven havens; no doubt Thranduil would be pleased to learn that his beloved kingdom would become one with the trees, although Lord Elrond would be probably less impressed.

Eldarion looked thoughtful. "~Lóthlorien was said to be the home of an Elf-witch, which of course refers to Lady Galadriel. They don't know, you see, that when Galadriel passed over the sea her power faded from the woods. Mirkwood they fear because of the creatures that come out of it. Estel has just informed me that more of the creatures have recently destroyed Ithilien; the stewards won't recover from that in a while.~"

"~And Imladris?~" I didn't understand what was so scary about Imladris; nowadays it was renowned throughout the Elven realms as a safe haven of sorts – assuming, of course, that you could find it.

Eldarion smiled now. Talking about the Elves always seemed to cheer him up. "~Of all the things the stewards fear, it is knowledge of the past they fear the most. And Imladris is said to be the home for lore preserved there that is lost everywhere else, wisdom dating back even to the Elder Days. They also fear the heirs of Isildur, for it is always said that they were raised there in their youth.~"

"~Ah, I see.~" I had learned from Mithrandir that sometimes storytellers needed to be encouraged, especially when they were reluctant to speak, for it let them know that they had an audience ready to listen.
Eldarion sighed. "~When I was in the forests, I was swept into the river, and when I managed to get to shore, I found myself not in the same Middle-earth I had left behind.~"

"~Isn't it better here? At least, that was the impression I received from your sister.~"

"~Yes.~" Eldarion seemed to be fighting himself; the turmoil was becoming clearer and clearer in his blue eyes. "~I just – I don't know how Estel can stand this!~" he burst out suddenly.

I raised an eyebrow. "~Stand what, Eldarion?~" Eldarion had been here longer than Estel from all accounts; anything that he was trying to endure because he was here he would have endured longer than his sister.

"~Stand knowing.~" He gestured around randomly. "~I can look around, and know or guess the future of half the people here. I can point at him – will he die or live? Will he marry or not? I can 'predict' the futures of half the peoples here, and it makes me feel so . . . so. . . It just torments me. I don't know what I'm here for – what can I change, and what must I not; who must I save, and who must I let die? I just feel so confused.~"

I studied him, finally realizing some of the burden he was carrying. I had known that a haunted look had sometimes crossed Estel's face when she looked at certain people, and reflecting back upon her strange reaction at Amon Hen, I realized how guilty and confused the siblings must be.

I put my hand on Eldarion's shoulder. "~Eldarion, your purpose will become clear to you as time goes by. Do not expect the Valar to give you answers before you know all you need to know.~"

The words did not seem to rouse him at all. I smiled sadly at my future descendant. "~Eldarion, listen to me: if it is any comfort, I did not know what purpose the Valar had for me once. It is no shame to be confused. But do not let it cloud your view of the present; live the present.~"

Slowly understanding crept into Eldarion's pale blue eyes. "~Thank you, my lord,~" he said softly after a long moment spent absorbing my words. "~I fear I have much to learn before I am a full Dúnadan.~"

"~You're still young,~" I retorted.

Eldarion nodded and rose. "~I'm going to get some sleep now. Good night, my lord.~"

"~Eldarion?~" I called after him. He turned gracefully. "~Call me Aragorn.~"