Title: A Brief Respite
Summary: After more than a decade of wandering, Aragorn returns home for a
short rest.
Author's Note: Hi all, this is my first work up at ff.net! I'm pretty
excited, and a little nervous. This was just a little something I wrote a
while ago and am just testing it out. I have big plans for the future,
maybe, so please review!
It was nearing dusk and the sun was slowly settling down to darkness, yet still a form could be seen through the dim light. It was a man, or perhaps an elf, for the creature moved with an elven grace, and yet it was leaning heavily upon a staff, favoring one leg. Elrohir and Elladan, sons of the Lord Elrond watched form the trees above as the figure made its way in the direction of their home. They followed swiftly, leaping from one treetop to the next, yet not close enough to tell if it was an elf. They were curious, as not many visitors came unexpected to their home; and wary, as the times were changing and growing dark like the sky above them. Unbeknownst to them, the figure was aware of the two elves trailing him. Elrohir and his brother continued studying the character, undecided upon their next course of action. Even with their sharp elven eyes they could see little in the dying light. "Shall we startle him?" Elrohir whispered to his brother. Elledan chuckling good naturedly. "Yes," he agreed, and the brothers jumped from their hiding place in the trees to the ground behind the stranger, effortlessly and without a sound. But before they could make a move, the figure spoke: "Peace," it said and continued walking. The two elves could tell at once that it was not an elf, for it lacked the musical quality of voice; but a man with a deep yet strangely melodic voice. "Peace," the man said again, "I wish to harm none." And he turned to face the elves with his palms facing out, a gesture of peace. Elladan's jaw dropped slightly. The man's eyes sparkled in the remaining light. They were light grey, with a hint of blue. A man with elven eyes. The man's eyes widened as well, for though the two elves in front of them did not recognize him, he recognized them as his foster brothers. "Elledan?" he asked, "Elrohir!" He quickly drew his brothers into a quick embrace and they stood staring at him, astounded. "The two elves who taught me everything about hunting and fighting, and even they could not sneak up on me!" he started to laugh, then stopped abruptly. "Surely you do recognize me?" Elrohir was still staring in amazement. It had been nearly ten years since they had seen their foster brother, in which he had been wandering middle earth, most recently fighting the evils of the east. Though still a young man even by mortal standards, he looked older. His face was dirty and weather-beaten, stubble on his chin and there was a freshly healed scar cutting across his temple and cheek. His cheeks were hollow, and he looked slightly gaunt and very weary. Nevertheless his eyes sparkled at his two brothers. "Estel!" Elohir said finally, "where have you been, you have changed much!" "Yes," Elladan joined in, "no longer the little boy who used to follow us around." "Ah, a long story which I shall be glad to tell, yet now I look forward to being and maybe some rest and food." He dared not tell that that what he looked forward to most of all, was seeing his beloved Arwen. Elladan couldn't help but notice that his one hand was bandaged in a dirty piece of cloth stained in dried blood. The knuckles of his other hand were also scarred and bloody, with signs of fading bruises. Estel turned and started limping back to his old home. "Brother, how came you by this?" he said, pointing to his leg. "Are you injured?" "Ah, tis a sword wound," the man replied, "six month's healed, but it still gives me trouble. Nothing more than bothersome at the moment, I assure you." Neither of the brothers said anything more on the subject as they made the last part of the journey in the dark, but Elladan did not completely believe his brother; he could see how he gritted his teeth with each step. It was not long before Estel could see the silhouette of the glorious Rivendel and all pain was forgotten as he hurried on to find his loved ones.
Elrond was overjoyed at the news that his son was home, but at the same time his heart filled with a type of dread. As much as he loved Estel, he dreaded to be parted with his only daughter, and the man's presence would only remind him of that. These thoughts swarmed his mind as he rushed to greet Estel at the entrance. My, he has changed, was his first thought. He was older, wiser, and perhaps sterner. He is wary, wary of wandering. But will he ever stop? This was not the first time Aragorn had been gone, but perhaps the longest and most dangerous. "Estel, my son, how fair you?" he asked, drawing him into a warm embrace. "As good as can be expected, father." Elrond noticed his eyes dart around the great hallway, looking for signs of the elf that he loved. "Pray, where is Evenstar?" "I am here," said Arwen from the banister of the stairway that looked down into the hall. Their eyes met, and though he could not tell what they were thinking, Elrond could see the love was true between them. He sighed. "Father," said Elrohir, unaware of his sister, "Estel is injured and wary, no doubt he wants nothing more than some rest." "Injured!" exclaimed Arwen, rushing down the stairs to greet him. "Oh, Estel-" "Hush, you need not concern yourself, tis nothing serious," "-Come, Estel, I shall take you to the halls of healing where my father will see to you. Arwen, you may greet your foster brother later, after he has had some rest," Elladan said as he drew Aragorn away, supporting him under his arm. "-Estel,-" The Evenstar said as their fingers brushed. As he was drawn away, Aragorn said: "Elrohir, Elledan, I am no longer a child, why do you continue to treat me like one?" "We are aware for your feelings for our sister, and would prefer if you greeted her in.a more private manner." "I am aware-" "Enough, Estel." Elledan silenced him gently. "You have been through much, I know. Walk the rest of the way to the healers without support or favoring your good leg, and we'll see." Estel tried. He could not.
An hour had passed and Aragorn leaned back on the soft bed, closing his eyes. It felt so good. He hadn't slept in three days and had been on the move for most of the time. Not to mention the hunger. But for now, just sleep- His eyes snapped open. It was Arwen, his Evenstar. "Undomeil.." he uttered in disbelief. "You are like a dream." "Hush, you are weary and must rest." "Not before I see you." He sat up slowly, doing his best not to wince as pain coursed through his aching muscles and leg. They embraced, like old friends, at first, until he pulled her closer. He felt her heart beat against his, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder. "What's this?" she asked suddenly, pulling away. "What happened to your back?" She saw over-lapping scars, not yet completely healed. They didn't look deep, but were long and nasty, crisscrossing all across his upper back and shoulders. She shut her eyes, imagining the pain. "Ah, tis nothing. Do not concern yourself." "No," she insisted, gently. "Tell me what happened, I want to know." "It was a whip, of sorts." "Who whipped you, Estel?" "Orcs," he spat, turning away. "You were captured by orcs," she trailed off, wondering. Oh, her poor Estel. "Hush, I wish not to speak of it." "You are home, now, Estel. We shall forget of it." They hugged tightly once more, but Arwen could did not fail to notice his bandaged hand and bruised knuckes. What ever happened to him must have been horrid. I shudder to think of it. She trailed her finger lightly down the scar on his face and looked into his eyes. Such strange eyes. Those of a man, but mysterious and powerful, like an elves. The eyes of a king. She ran her hand along the stubble on his chin, softly caressing his lips. Slowly, their heads came together, and their lips met.
Aragorn sighs slowly as he glances up at the full moon. It is the second full moon since his arrival here, and already time to leave again. The wound in his leg, though sloppily healed whence he came here, was now almost completely healed. Only when he walked or rode for long periods did it begin to ache. He would leave in the morn, for Rohan, then Gondor, where he would go by the name Thorongil. And yet, it was not his kingdom, not yet, if it ever would be his. The next morning early, before the rise of the sun he was ready to go, with his horse, sword, his long bow and a quiver of arrows, three knives strapped to his body, concealed, and a small pack on his saddle containing some Lembas, water and other necessities. He had said his farewells to Arwen the night before, and to his foster brothers and father. Now it was time to depart on his long journey. With one last glance at the brightest star in the sky, he could not help but think about the brightest star in his heart.
It was nearing dusk and the sun was slowly settling down to darkness, yet still a form could be seen through the dim light. It was a man, or perhaps an elf, for the creature moved with an elven grace, and yet it was leaning heavily upon a staff, favoring one leg. Elrohir and Elladan, sons of the Lord Elrond watched form the trees above as the figure made its way in the direction of their home. They followed swiftly, leaping from one treetop to the next, yet not close enough to tell if it was an elf. They were curious, as not many visitors came unexpected to their home; and wary, as the times were changing and growing dark like the sky above them. Unbeknownst to them, the figure was aware of the two elves trailing him. Elrohir and his brother continued studying the character, undecided upon their next course of action. Even with their sharp elven eyes they could see little in the dying light. "Shall we startle him?" Elrohir whispered to his brother. Elledan chuckling good naturedly. "Yes," he agreed, and the brothers jumped from their hiding place in the trees to the ground behind the stranger, effortlessly and without a sound. But before they could make a move, the figure spoke: "Peace," it said and continued walking. The two elves could tell at once that it was not an elf, for it lacked the musical quality of voice; but a man with a deep yet strangely melodic voice. "Peace," the man said again, "I wish to harm none." And he turned to face the elves with his palms facing out, a gesture of peace. Elladan's jaw dropped slightly. The man's eyes sparkled in the remaining light. They were light grey, with a hint of blue. A man with elven eyes. The man's eyes widened as well, for though the two elves in front of them did not recognize him, he recognized them as his foster brothers. "Elledan?" he asked, "Elrohir!" He quickly drew his brothers into a quick embrace and they stood staring at him, astounded. "The two elves who taught me everything about hunting and fighting, and even they could not sneak up on me!" he started to laugh, then stopped abruptly. "Surely you do recognize me?" Elrohir was still staring in amazement. It had been nearly ten years since they had seen their foster brother, in which he had been wandering middle earth, most recently fighting the evils of the east. Though still a young man even by mortal standards, he looked older. His face was dirty and weather-beaten, stubble on his chin and there was a freshly healed scar cutting across his temple and cheek. His cheeks were hollow, and he looked slightly gaunt and very weary. Nevertheless his eyes sparkled at his two brothers. "Estel!" Elohir said finally, "where have you been, you have changed much!" "Yes," Elladan joined in, "no longer the little boy who used to follow us around." "Ah, a long story which I shall be glad to tell, yet now I look forward to being and maybe some rest and food." He dared not tell that that what he looked forward to most of all, was seeing his beloved Arwen. Elladan couldn't help but notice that his one hand was bandaged in a dirty piece of cloth stained in dried blood. The knuckles of his other hand were also scarred and bloody, with signs of fading bruises. Estel turned and started limping back to his old home. "Brother, how came you by this?" he said, pointing to his leg. "Are you injured?" "Ah, tis a sword wound," the man replied, "six month's healed, but it still gives me trouble. Nothing more than bothersome at the moment, I assure you." Neither of the brothers said anything more on the subject as they made the last part of the journey in the dark, but Elladan did not completely believe his brother; he could see how he gritted his teeth with each step. It was not long before Estel could see the silhouette of the glorious Rivendel and all pain was forgotten as he hurried on to find his loved ones.
Elrond was overjoyed at the news that his son was home, but at the same time his heart filled with a type of dread. As much as he loved Estel, he dreaded to be parted with his only daughter, and the man's presence would only remind him of that. These thoughts swarmed his mind as he rushed to greet Estel at the entrance. My, he has changed, was his first thought. He was older, wiser, and perhaps sterner. He is wary, wary of wandering. But will he ever stop? This was not the first time Aragorn had been gone, but perhaps the longest and most dangerous. "Estel, my son, how fair you?" he asked, drawing him into a warm embrace. "As good as can be expected, father." Elrond noticed his eyes dart around the great hallway, looking for signs of the elf that he loved. "Pray, where is Evenstar?" "I am here," said Arwen from the banister of the stairway that looked down into the hall. Their eyes met, and though he could not tell what they were thinking, Elrond could see the love was true between them. He sighed. "Father," said Elrohir, unaware of his sister, "Estel is injured and wary, no doubt he wants nothing more than some rest." "Injured!" exclaimed Arwen, rushing down the stairs to greet him. "Oh, Estel-" "Hush, you need not concern yourself, tis nothing serious," "-Come, Estel, I shall take you to the halls of healing where my father will see to you. Arwen, you may greet your foster brother later, after he has had some rest," Elladan said as he drew Aragorn away, supporting him under his arm. "-Estel,-" The Evenstar said as their fingers brushed. As he was drawn away, Aragorn said: "Elrohir, Elledan, I am no longer a child, why do you continue to treat me like one?" "We are aware for your feelings for our sister, and would prefer if you greeted her in.a more private manner." "I am aware-" "Enough, Estel." Elledan silenced him gently. "You have been through much, I know. Walk the rest of the way to the healers without support or favoring your good leg, and we'll see." Estel tried. He could not.
An hour had passed and Aragorn leaned back on the soft bed, closing his eyes. It felt so good. He hadn't slept in three days and had been on the move for most of the time. Not to mention the hunger. But for now, just sleep- His eyes snapped open. It was Arwen, his Evenstar. "Undomeil.." he uttered in disbelief. "You are like a dream." "Hush, you are weary and must rest." "Not before I see you." He sat up slowly, doing his best not to wince as pain coursed through his aching muscles and leg. They embraced, like old friends, at first, until he pulled her closer. He felt her heart beat against his, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder. "What's this?" she asked suddenly, pulling away. "What happened to your back?" She saw over-lapping scars, not yet completely healed. They didn't look deep, but were long and nasty, crisscrossing all across his upper back and shoulders. She shut her eyes, imagining the pain. "Ah, tis nothing. Do not concern yourself." "No," she insisted, gently. "Tell me what happened, I want to know." "It was a whip, of sorts." "Who whipped you, Estel?" "Orcs," he spat, turning away. "You were captured by orcs," she trailed off, wondering. Oh, her poor Estel. "Hush, I wish not to speak of it." "You are home, now, Estel. We shall forget of it." They hugged tightly once more, but Arwen could did not fail to notice his bandaged hand and bruised knuckes. What ever happened to him must have been horrid. I shudder to think of it. She trailed her finger lightly down the scar on his face and looked into his eyes. Such strange eyes. Those of a man, but mysterious and powerful, like an elves. The eyes of a king. She ran her hand along the stubble on his chin, softly caressing his lips. Slowly, their heads came together, and their lips met.
Aragorn sighs slowly as he glances up at the full moon. It is the second full moon since his arrival here, and already time to leave again. The wound in his leg, though sloppily healed whence he came here, was now almost completely healed. Only when he walked or rode for long periods did it begin to ache. He would leave in the morn, for Rohan, then Gondor, where he would go by the name Thorongil. And yet, it was not his kingdom, not yet, if it ever would be his. The next morning early, before the rise of the sun he was ready to go, with his horse, sword, his long bow and a quiver of arrows, three knives strapped to his body, concealed, and a small pack on his saddle containing some Lembas, water and other necessities. He had said his farewells to Arwen the night before, and to his foster brothers and father. Now it was time to depart on his long journey. With one last glance at the brightest star in the sky, he could not help but think about the brightest star in his heart.