Chapter 9

Standing at the bow of the ship Aragorn was staring ahead with a rather vacant expression. His mind was both full and empty. Full of memories, plans that would need to be made—and yet he could not truly focus on anything. Except how tired he felt.

"Standing here will not make the ship go any faster, gwador tithen."

Aragorn slowly turned to face Elladan, trying to clear the fog from his brain. "What?" He asked, confused.

Elladan's brows furrowed in concern. "Have you gotten any sleep these past days?" The Elf asked.

Aragorn shook his head. "Nay, so much has happened that I…"

He trailed off as a sudden wave of weariness flooded over him. Aragorn's hand slipped from the deck rail as he nearly fell backward.

Elladan swiftly caught him, and Aragorn leaned into his support. The Ranger heard indistinct words as he was guided below deck.

"Rest muindor," someone said. "I will come for you when we are within sight of Harlond."

~o~o~

Aragorn awoke to the sound of soft footsteps approaching his bunk. The sons of Elrond entered his field of vision–Elrohir carrying a plain, wooden box and Elladan carrying a surcoat of chainmail. A silent understanding passed between them as Aragorn stood. While donning the chainmail he glanced at the box.

It was made of blackwood and mostly undecorated–save for a single star carved into the lid.

Elladan handed him a pair of leather vambraces.

"What is in the box, Elrohir?" Aragorn asked.

The Elf did not answer until Aragorn had finished arming himself, with Andúril at his side and faded green cloak over his shoulders. Only then did Elrohir open the box.

There, contrasting sharply against the black wood and pine-green velvet where it rested, lay the Elendilmir. Not the true one–for that had been lost with Isildur at the Gladden fields–but a second that the smiths of Rivendell had made long ago. The jewel was a clear, star-shaped diamond that shone with a light all its own, upheld by a thin band of silver.

Aragorn bowed his head and let Elrohir place the Elendilmir on his brow. Then, as he came out onto the main deck all activity ceased. The entire crew stared at him for a moment, then–as one man–they knelt.

It was a rather awkward moment for the Ranger — despite the fact that he was Isildur's Heir. Not only was it the Dúnadan, but also the former oarslaves who–before the previous day–had not known him. It was both humbling and awe-inspiring.

Then he bid them rise, and turned toward Halbarad, who was standing at the forecastle of the ship.

Beyond, smoke rose from the battle plain as figures moved to-and-fro. The setting sun, combined with the unnatural blackness, painted the scene with an eerie, dull red light.

"Unfurl the standard." Aragorn commanded.

The Dúnadan nodded. Loosening the ties, Halbarad let the banner fly in the breeze.