That was one of the last time Elladan and Elrohir played their game with
Estel. They continued to spend much of their time with him, but it was
spent teaching and practicing rather than pretending. They showed him how
to fight with a sword and shoot with a bow and ride a horse and recognize
signs of enemies. He enjoyed duelling with them, and other elves as well,
when the brothers were busy, though he seemed never to win. He often sat in
the Hall of Fires and hear songs of the Valar and Elves who had long passed
into the West. He greatly loved writing songs of his own, as well, though
he did not enjoy singing them so much as writing them, or hearing others
sing them. His voice was fair, but it would never satisfy his ears which
were accustomed to the glory of Elves. He studied many ancient tongues that
were spoken by few, and developed a love for languages and lore, almost as
strong as his love for history and legends.
When he was not practicing tracking or fighting, nor studying history or lore, nor spending time with his mother or Elrond or the brothers, he would sometimes wonder through the woods on his own, watching the sun dip behind the Western Mountains, and the stars slowly appear in the dark sky above him. Five years passed by in this manner, and his legs grew very long, but he could not be said to be "big for his age", for he was of thin frame, and his face was young. His eyes, however, possessed a sense of maturity and wisdom seldom found in one so young, for he was raised in a place where no other children dwelt, and everyone around him, save his mother, had lived at least two-thousand years. But he never seemed aware of the absence of children his age, and if he did he never complained or questioned it. Always he strived to reach the standards of all that surrounded him, and always he felt he strived in vain and thought himself young and naïve, and did not realize how old he was compared to other children his age.
Gilrean stood upon the balcony, watching her son as he lay high in a tree, watching the sky, listening to the sounds of the forest and no doubt dreaming of some story. She sighed rubbed her crossed arms as if she was cold, though the air was mild. A man came to stand beside her, following her gaze to the twelve-year old sitting in the trees.
"Good evening, Lord Elrond," she said, still staring ahead.
"Good evening, Lady Gilrean," he returned. A moment of silence followed as they both stood observing the peace and beauty of the twilight in Rivendell. The shadows were stretching across the ground and the summer sounds of night, far-off frogs chirping and an owl hooting every so often, filled the air.
"He's beginning to look so like his father," said Gilrean at last, breaking the silence. Elrond nodded and turned to face her. Gilrean's face seemed sad and tired and her dark eyes were filled with tears, which refused to slide down her face. "He doesn't remember his father," she continued. "He doesn't even know who he was. He tells me he feels shame for not having a proper father, and that he doesn't know who he is. 'Estel, the human, No-man's Son' he scornfully named himself to me."
Elrond's face showed concern now, and his brow furrowed. "And what did you tell him?"
"I told him not to say such nonsense, and that he has nothing to feel shameful for. And that his father died valiantly in battle. That seemed to comfort him but he did not understand why he couldn't know his father's name. Elrond… Why can't he know?"
Elrond sighed and looked away, his eyes focusing once more on the boy. "It is not so much that he cannot know, but that it should not be known at all. Estel I call him, and with good reason, for at the moment, he is our only hope. The enemy has always been searching for the Heir of the man who cut the Ring from Sauron's finger. Did you not wonder at your husband's death? The other Dunedain fought bravely, but seeing their Cheiftain killed, retreated. Did you not wonder at the ease of their escape? The orcs had done their job, they would not be bothered needlessly tracking down men who had almost defeated them. It is my goal to ensure Aragorn's safety, and in order to do that, his heritage must be kept a secret; the danger would be too great if it were known. They would kill him while he is still young and helpless."
Gilrean nodded. "Yes, I understand… All that you say is true. It is best to keep it secret. But why secret even from him? Why not comfort him with the knowledge of who he really is, and the honor that come with his heritage?"
"I will tell him, but not now. There is no need to weigh him down with the responsibilities of leadership, nor the pride that comes with his high lineage. It is best to give him these years of childhood living in simplicity. They are so few; why rush to end them? Let him be as any other child."
"Have you not observed, my lord, that Aragorn is not like any other child? He does not play, he does not live in simplicity. There are none here his age, none to compare himself to other than Great Elf-lords, and that is damaging his pride."
"Pride is a weakness; it leads to arrogance which results in foolishness," said Elrond, though he seemed to be trying to convince himself more than Gilrean.
"That may be so, but you said yourself, just now, my lord, that Aragorn deserves these few years of childhood and simplicity."
"And how do you propose to give him that?" asked Elrond, turning to her again.
"Let him come with me to live for a time with our people, the Dunedain."
"The children of the Dunedain of the North, in my mind, have little more of the gifts of childhood, than Aragorn does, if not less. They are forced to grow up quickly, despite their long youth, for their people are few and they have no proper home."
"Yet they have each other to share the burden with, and so, can still be children. Besides, though what you say of the Dunedain is true, that is what he is: a Dunadan."
"Yes…" agreed Elrond thoughtfully. "I believe you are right. It is time he spent some time with other children, and his own people. Besides, he cannot stay forever sheltered in the Haven of Rivendell; he must see more of the world. Therefore, Gilrean, I give you leave to travel with your son back to your people and stay there until you wish to return. But please, return before Aragorn's childhood has left him altogether…"
"Thankyou, Elrond. I will gladly obey your request, as I intend to return here to your kingdom soon, a year perhaps."
Elrond smiled as she left the balcony. Then suddenly he called to her. "Gilrean!" She stopped. "If it would bring comfort to Estel, tell him that his father was a Ranger who died bravely in battle, and give him the name Elmiryn."
"You wish me to lie to him?"
"It is not a lie. I called his father that."
When he was not practicing tracking or fighting, nor studying history or lore, nor spending time with his mother or Elrond or the brothers, he would sometimes wonder through the woods on his own, watching the sun dip behind the Western Mountains, and the stars slowly appear in the dark sky above him. Five years passed by in this manner, and his legs grew very long, but he could not be said to be "big for his age", for he was of thin frame, and his face was young. His eyes, however, possessed a sense of maturity and wisdom seldom found in one so young, for he was raised in a place where no other children dwelt, and everyone around him, save his mother, had lived at least two-thousand years. But he never seemed aware of the absence of children his age, and if he did he never complained or questioned it. Always he strived to reach the standards of all that surrounded him, and always he felt he strived in vain and thought himself young and naïve, and did not realize how old he was compared to other children his age.
Gilrean stood upon the balcony, watching her son as he lay high in a tree, watching the sky, listening to the sounds of the forest and no doubt dreaming of some story. She sighed rubbed her crossed arms as if she was cold, though the air was mild. A man came to stand beside her, following her gaze to the twelve-year old sitting in the trees.
"Good evening, Lord Elrond," she said, still staring ahead.
"Good evening, Lady Gilrean," he returned. A moment of silence followed as they both stood observing the peace and beauty of the twilight in Rivendell. The shadows were stretching across the ground and the summer sounds of night, far-off frogs chirping and an owl hooting every so often, filled the air.
"He's beginning to look so like his father," said Gilrean at last, breaking the silence. Elrond nodded and turned to face her. Gilrean's face seemed sad and tired and her dark eyes were filled with tears, which refused to slide down her face. "He doesn't remember his father," she continued. "He doesn't even know who he was. He tells me he feels shame for not having a proper father, and that he doesn't know who he is. 'Estel, the human, No-man's Son' he scornfully named himself to me."
Elrond's face showed concern now, and his brow furrowed. "And what did you tell him?"
"I told him not to say such nonsense, and that he has nothing to feel shameful for. And that his father died valiantly in battle. That seemed to comfort him but he did not understand why he couldn't know his father's name. Elrond… Why can't he know?"
Elrond sighed and looked away, his eyes focusing once more on the boy. "It is not so much that he cannot know, but that it should not be known at all. Estel I call him, and with good reason, for at the moment, he is our only hope. The enemy has always been searching for the Heir of the man who cut the Ring from Sauron's finger. Did you not wonder at your husband's death? The other Dunedain fought bravely, but seeing their Cheiftain killed, retreated. Did you not wonder at the ease of their escape? The orcs had done their job, they would not be bothered needlessly tracking down men who had almost defeated them. It is my goal to ensure Aragorn's safety, and in order to do that, his heritage must be kept a secret; the danger would be too great if it were known. They would kill him while he is still young and helpless."
Gilrean nodded. "Yes, I understand… All that you say is true. It is best to keep it secret. But why secret even from him? Why not comfort him with the knowledge of who he really is, and the honor that come with his heritage?"
"I will tell him, but not now. There is no need to weigh him down with the responsibilities of leadership, nor the pride that comes with his high lineage. It is best to give him these years of childhood living in simplicity. They are so few; why rush to end them? Let him be as any other child."
"Have you not observed, my lord, that Aragorn is not like any other child? He does not play, he does not live in simplicity. There are none here his age, none to compare himself to other than Great Elf-lords, and that is damaging his pride."
"Pride is a weakness; it leads to arrogance which results in foolishness," said Elrond, though he seemed to be trying to convince himself more than Gilrean.
"That may be so, but you said yourself, just now, my lord, that Aragorn deserves these few years of childhood and simplicity."
"And how do you propose to give him that?" asked Elrond, turning to her again.
"Let him come with me to live for a time with our people, the Dunedain."
"The children of the Dunedain of the North, in my mind, have little more of the gifts of childhood, than Aragorn does, if not less. They are forced to grow up quickly, despite their long youth, for their people are few and they have no proper home."
"Yet they have each other to share the burden with, and so, can still be children. Besides, though what you say of the Dunedain is true, that is what he is: a Dunadan."
"Yes…" agreed Elrond thoughtfully. "I believe you are right. It is time he spent some time with other children, and his own people. Besides, he cannot stay forever sheltered in the Haven of Rivendell; he must see more of the world. Therefore, Gilrean, I give you leave to travel with your son back to your people and stay there until you wish to return. But please, return before Aragorn's childhood has left him altogether…"
"Thankyou, Elrond. I will gladly obey your request, as I intend to return here to your kingdom soon, a year perhaps."
Elrond smiled as she left the balcony. Then suddenly he called to her. "Gilrean!" She stopped. "If it would bring comfort to Estel, tell him that his father was a Ranger who died bravely in battle, and give him the name Elmiryn."
"You wish me to lie to him?"
"It is not a lie. I called his father that."