Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I make no money from this writing.
(A/N As you will I am sure realise, I am fishing about for answers to a number of things which are puzzling me about Estel/Aragorn, especially the fact the he is the one of all of those of his line fostered by Elrond who becomes King. I hope the answers I am gradually working my way towards will prove satisfying to you.)
When I have bathed, and spoken again for a short while with my hostess and with her brother and his wife, I retire to the warm and comfortable bed they have provided for me. There I rest, sitting calmly, thinking, remembering, until the early hours of the morning.
Then there is a sound, a slight movement of air. I reach for the curtain and move it aside a little.
In the warm light from the fire Estel is standing, looking about him. He is wearing a nightshirt. One hand has balled the material tightly at his side.
"Papa?" he says quietly, plaintively. "Where are you?"
I pull the curtain all the way back and hold my hand out to him. "Here, Estel. Hush."
He walks over to me. "I forgot where I was," he says. He climbs up on the bed and sits down next to me.
The headwoman's brother draws his own curtain aside for a moment but I catch his eye and he smiles and goes back to bed.
"Well now," I say, drawing a blanket up over Estel then settling back comfortably.
"I'm sorry," he says. "Something woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep. There's something I almost dreamed. I don't want it in my dreams and I'm afraid if I sleep again it will get into my head and I won't be able to get rid of it."
"It is strange here," I say. "You are in a new place. You are bound to be unsettled."
"Yes, Papa," he says, but the plaintive quality in his voice has not gone. It is very dark behind the curtain. I am sure he can see nothing. I get up and light a rush lamp, then take it back to my space in the hut. He looks up when I return.
"Am I too big to sleep here tonight?" he asks.
"I think there is enough room for both of us," I say, and I wait for his smile.
He does smile but it is watery, like pale sunshine through a veil of cloud. "I'm nine," he says. "Halbarad says by the age of nine, most of the boys here can go on hunting trips with their fathers."
We are going to stray into very difficult territory far too rapidly, if I am not careful. "Estel – it is not even light yet. It is not time to think about such matters. Go to sleep now. I will keep this bad thing away from you, whatever it is. Perhaps tomorrow you will be able to spend time with your grandmother. She is a fine lady, Estel, and she will tell you many stories about the exploits of Ranger boys."
"She will? I didn't even know I had a grandmother," he says. "When will mother come home?"
The old answer comes to my lips, though I know it will not hold his questions much longer. "Soon, Estel. She is visiting her own people, you know that. She will return when she is ready."
"Yes, Papa." He sighs, tired now and warmer than when he came searching for me. He settles on his side, close by but not touching me, for he does not want to be seen as a little boy any more. When he is asleep again I draw him to me and put my own ward round him, to keep whatever troubles him at bay.
Just before dawn, I wake him and send him back to his own bed.
"Make sure you tidy up your bedroll properly," I tell him. "Wash, and have some breakfast and find something useful to do until I come for you."
"You won't tell anyone – about me waking up, will you?" he says, choosing his words carefully.
"Hurry back now. No-one will know. And find a comb – I'll have to cut the tangles out of your hair if you don't." I push his dark hair off his brow. He is a little happier this morning but the eager light in his eye has dimmed. "You'll be able to learn some new skills while you're here. Then we can practice them when we get home."
"Home," he says. "My tree," he adds. Then, "Spider!"
"They will all be safe when we return. I gave special instructions for your tree to be tended with great care. Your brothers are looking after Spider. They may bring your pony with them when they come to escort us home."
"Yes!" he says, his cheerfulness returning. "May I play in the stream this morning, Papa? I saw some boys down there yesterday evening. It looked fun."
"You may play on the bank of the stream but you will be meeting your grandmother properly. Did she speak to you long last night?"
"She took me straight to Halbarad's house and left me, there, Papa. I don't think she was very pleased with me."
"In that case, I think she would prefer you to be clean and not to drip on her mats, child." I smile at him and the grin on his face lets me send him back to Halbarad with a lighter heart.
I want Estel to have time to find his feet here without my constant guardianship but it is still difficult to eat with my hostess and not go searching for him, to make sure he has broken his own fast.
It is full daylight when I go to seek out Ivorwen. I cannot see Estel anywhere, though I can hear children playing. The camp is busy with activity as I pass through but I am greeted at every turn by these courteous people. I walk, as instructed, right through camp until I see a house on its own, a larger roundhouse with a richly decorated doorway. I ask permission to enter and the door blanket is held aside by a pretty young woman, who leaves us alone.
Ivorwen is sitting in a solid, comfortable wooden chair. She has two great hounds at her feet, which regard me suspiciously as I enter. She lays her hand on a large head and the dogs relax, sprawled by the fire.
"My lady," I say, bowing my head.
"Elrond," she says. "Come, sit." She indicates a second chair, well furnished with cushions and I sit down there. In the gloom of the house I note golden objects, rich tapestries and items so ancient they come from another time, yet are familiar to me.
"You are in good health, I hope?" I ask her.
"I am. But I hear that my grandson is not. He is showing some very worrying symptoms."
Ivorwen never was one to mince her words. It was thanks to her straight speaking that Gilraen married, young as she was, and Aragorn was born.
We spend a long while in front of her fire, while her hounds doze, discussing Estel. Ivorwen begins to tell me what they can do to make him well but as she speaks, I become more afraid for my boy. For the cure is not any easy road for him, neither the taking of herbs, nor a change of diet or exercise, nor even a return to his people. No, the route that is proposed will be a hard one.
"I hope for long life for the boy," Ivorwen says. "Longer than his father's or his grandfather's. I hope he will not die needlessly. His illness, Elrond – it is a mark of – of significance."
She reaches for her walking stick and begins to stand. I would question her further on her last statement but she denies me, moving to the doorway, her hounds following her.
"Let us go and see what my grandson is doing," she says. "Later, I shall call together those with knowledge and we shall decide what is to be done. And I shall send a rider for his mother. She may not be able to come in time, but it is well she knows what is to be done."
"Is she well?" I ask, following the old woman and lending her my arm when the way becomes a little slippery.
"She will never be quite well, Elrond. But she is quieter now, and she tries to be well, for her son's sake. I think in time she will return to you and live in Imladris again, but not in this season. The boy has thrived with you, loves you and his brothers – he is not harmed because his mother lives away from him for now. There will be time for them to be together."
I know in my heart she is right, yet I know also that Estel misses her and wishes she were still living with us. It was a hard judgement to separate them but it was the right one. I do not know if I want her to be with us again.
Such thoughts are soon put aside as we go together down to the stream. It seems Ivorwen knows exactly where to find the boy, though I do not recall telling her of Estel's plans. Perhaps it is the sudden quiet that has fallen, all childish laughter and shouting ceased, or perhaps it is Ivorwen's grip on my arm, but I sense not all is well and can only hope Estel has not done something wrong.
"What do you think you are doing?" I hear a man's voice, and an angry one. "Did you not think before you did this? Is our secrecy nothing to you?"
"Be still!" Ivorwen commands as we come near the stream. "You will not speak to my grandson in such a manner!"
And indeed, there is Estel, being held firmly by the arm, and red in the face with emotion.
"What did I do wrong?" he says.
Half a dozen youngsters, the oldest no more than six or so, watches events. They are all sobbing, and one is holding a boat made of leaves and sticks to his chest as if it is precious to him.
The man lets Estel go at Ivorwen's command. I cannot for the life of me see what it is that Estel might have done to upset the tall man, whose hand is on the hilt of his sword.
"My lady," the man says. "This boy, who came among us only yesterday as a welcome guest, has been teaching the children to make boats and float them on the water. Do you not realise, boy," he says, his anger rising again as he turns to Estel, "that this stream flows through land our enemies watch? What better sign could there be that we are here?"
Estel blinks, oncoming tears held back by force of will. "Then I will fetch them all," he says, "though the birds and the animals and even I know just where to find you!" With which words he is off, running into the stream, catching up the little flotilla of boats which bobs on the surface of the water, and throwing them onto the bank. He splashes downstream and grabs every one, though I move down the bank and call to him. When the last one has been destroyed, he stands in the middle of the stream, his eyes blank, staring up beyond us all.
"We cannot be safe!" he calls in a loud voice. "We are not safe here, or there, or in any place in this land! The world is too big and the people are too small and helpless!"
"Estel – Estel." I call to him then walk into the stream to catch him when he comes to himself. For he is lost in a vision and will not know the world when the pictures in his head leave him.
"There is a power in the world that reaches for me," he says, then I take him in my arms and he is quiet, falling into unconsciousness before my eyes.
Everyone is very quiet, even the children who had been crying, and more of the Dúnedain gather as I carry Estel to the bank of the stream and stand with him in my arms. Even the voice of the stream seems stilled.
Estel comes to himself and I set him on the ground, and kneel next to him, supporting him.
"Speak, Estel. Tell me what happened."
"I was thinking what I could do to make the children happy, and I thought about when we made those boats, Papa. You remember? So I found some big leaves and some sticks and we were making them. I thought, if I put them in the water myself, then everyone would be safe, so I didn't let anyone else in the stream and I put the boats on the water, one by one. I didn't think where they would go next. Did I catch them all, Papa?" He is becoming agitated, but these people must know what happened. I will not leave any doubt in their minds about my son's – their chieftain's – thoughtfulness and care.
"You caught every one, Estel. Every one. Now, do you remember what happened next?"
He looks around him, becoming aware of the number of eyes that watch, the number of ears that listen.
"Speak, Estel," Ivorwen says, not unkindly but with enough authority to support the boy's efforts.
"I had a vision. I saw the whole world and it was full of little creatures, and they were hiding away from the world. But I could see them all, every one, bad ones under the mountains and fair ones living in the woods and by the sea. But the whole world was going dark, Papa! The whole world!"
He is sobbing now, and there is a murmur among the people of the village, who have listened to their chieftain and his vision, and have been disturbed by his words.
Ivorwen sends one of her hounds forward, and it goes gently to Estel, leaning its head on his shoulder. He absent-mindedly reaches for its ear, then turns to it and puts his arms round its neck, burying his face in its rough coat.
"Return to your work," the headwoman commands, obeying a quiet suggestion from Ivorwen. "This afternoon, we meet."
I put a cloak round Estel's shoulders and let the dog lead us away from everyone, a little way downstream. The dog halts by a grassy bank, laced with early flowers, coltsfoot and even a few fragile violets. The dog sits and Estel sits by him, arm around his new companion. I sit a little apart, until the boy turns to look at me. His clear, grey eyes seem older, as if I look on the face of a man full grown.
"Did I see the future?" he asks me. "Will it be my fate to hold back this dark?"
I do not know what to say to this man who sits before me, gazing up and expecting my answer. When he sees I can say nothing, he looks back at the stream and the sound of its passage over the stones, the multitude of notes and voices in its waters, performs its magic.
"I do not know either, Papa," he says, and his voice tells me my boy has been returned to me.
He pats the dog vigorously, then grabs a stick and throws it. The dog looks at him, then bounds away, splashing through the water and retrieving it. He shakes himself when he returns and Estel laughs.
"Can we keep him?" he asks and again I do not know the answer. Ivorwen comes to my rescue.
"No, you may not keep Keeper. He is my dog and we have been together for many years. But you may, with your father's permission, keep this one with you. He will prove a faithful companion and one who may keep you from harm, when he grows up."
The young woman who showed me into Ivorwen's house carries a small, wriggling puppy in her arms, and I sense that I am being backed into a corner. Not unwillingly, however. These dogs are indeed good companions, brave and strong, and if this pup is of the line of Ivorwen's own hounds then this is a great gift indeed.
"May I, Papa?" Estel says, overwhelmed.
"Of course you may," I say gladly.
Estel steps forward and takes the puppy, which immediately licks his face. "I shall think about a name for you," he says, sitting down again and putting the puppy on the grass. Then he remembers his manners.
"Thank you, Grandmother," he says. "Thank you." He is too full of his emotion, too tired from his ordeal to say more.
"You are welcome, my boy. Think long and hard about his name, for it is not good to call an animal by a fell name."
"I called my pony Spider," Estel says, looking up. "Is that not a good name?"
Ivorwen does not answer. Halbarad, who has been standing close by comes to sit down next to Estel, petting Keeper and admiring the new puppy. They are soon happily absorbed.
I go to stand by Ivorwen. "Thank you. That is a rich and useful gift."
"I wish I could give him more, Elrond. But I am sure the puppy is going to his rightful owner. Come now, let us leave them. You and I have preparations to make."
"Come in when you're hungry, Estel!" I say.
"Yes, Papa," he says, the puppy settled in his arms. It is a happy moment but it will not last, not if he is to be made well.