Beautiful Stranger
Prequel to Silent words, Comfort me
Author's note: sniff. This is it. so long then.
This is set just before and during the time when the Council of Elrond sat in Tolkien's 'The Fellowship of the Ring'. It's also a different interpretation of 'the tale of Aragorn and Arwen' in the appendix.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Epilogue
Aragorn raised his head wearily as the first mallorn trees came into view. It had been two decades since he'd last entered the Golden Wood - two long, empty decades since he'd first held a beautiful stranger in his arms… With the ease of long practice, the man shoved that particular memory back behind the walls where it belonged, and turned his mind away from the emptiness where once his heart had been.
Sometimes he thought that it had all been a dream, that the burning passion and whispered endearments had been mere figments of his imagination. But then he would wake up with the bittersweet taste of the elf on his lips, or shiver as the wind whipped round him in a familiar caress, and everything would come flooding back…
Aragorn bit his lip, and stared resolutely at the ethereal elf coming to meet him. But though Galadriel appeared physically unchanged, there was no recognition in her voice when she greeted him, and only a distant welcome in her eyes.
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn," she intoned, as she had so many years ago, "You have come to your destiny at last…"
For a moment, his heart leapt in his chest, could it be? After all these years of searching…
"…you have finally come to your Queen," she finished.
Bitter disappointment welled up in his throat. Of course. Arwen was here. Long ago, in another life, he had glimpsed his future within a metal basin and Galadriel had told him then that it could never be. It was foolish really, to carry this futile hope for so long; he should really start getting on with life.
The Lady clapped softly, and two elves came forward. One gently lifted the worn travelling cloak from his shoulders, while the other replaced it with a silver cloak of Elven-make, and put a sparkling gem on his brow. When they had wiped his hands and face with water, Galadriel nodded her approval. "Follow me," she told him.
Aragorn obediently walked with her under the trees of Caras Galadhon, to where the Star of the Elves awaited her doom.
At the sound of their approach, Arwen turned, and Aragorn felt his stomach lurch. He had forgotten how beautiful she was, how her dark hair fell in voluminous waves down her back, so unlike the silken sheet of gold that had once surrounded man and elf…No. Not now. He had loved Arwen once, he was sure of it, and he could love her again. It would never be the same of course, but it would have to be enough.
Aragorn felt rather than saw her appreciation for the man he had become, and he smiled his unspoken thanks. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips, and murmured, "My lady."
~
Legolas rubbed his eyes, blinking repeatedly at the map in front of him, which had somehow morphed into an incomprehensible mess of lines. "I give it a week before we lose the south border completely," he told King Thranduil tiredly, "It's only been two days since that wretched Gollum disappeared, and now this."
"I know, my son," Thranduil replied, equally drained, "But I'm afraid we no longer have the resources to keep pushing Mordor back. We will have to retreat again." The elf king furrowed his brow in frustration. "We cannot keep moving deeper into the forest forever. There must be something we can do…" he muttered angrily.
Legolas sighed. "There is," he said, "We can inform the rest of Middle Earth that Sauron has returned."
Thranduil looked stricken, then resigned. "Yes," he said softly, "I suppose it is our duty…And we must tell Elrond that Gollum has fled." Raising his head to gaze at his weary son, he seemed to come to a conclusion. "You will go to Rivendell," he told Legolas, "Elrond probably has his suspicions by now, but it would still be useful to have them confirmed."
"But I can't go," Legolas cried in shock, "I have to be here to oversee the army…"
The elf king shook his head. "We can manage well enough without you," he said firmly, "But so few of us have ventured from these woods in recent years; you have the best chance of getting to Elrond." He forced his son to meet his eyes, and said, "Besides, I believe in you."
Legolas bowed his head. "Yes father," he whispered, trying desperately not to think of one man's eyes and one man's touch - and how incomplete he was without it.
~
Dragging his legs through the suddenly shallow stream, Aragorn stumbled, and would have fallen if careful hands had not held him up. "Father…" he began, staring at the ageless face, "I mean…Lord Elrond…"
"Shh," Elrond said as he hefted the man into his arms, "You will always be my son. Now be quiet and rest. The little folk are safe; the Ring is safe."
"Mordor…" Aragorn clasped the elf's shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip, and said insistently, "Sauron has risen again…"
"I know," Elrond told him calmly, "Rest now. We will speak more of this anon."
Too exhausted to argue, the man let his consciousness melt away, and surrendered to the peace of Rivendell.
~
Legolas galloped through the gates of Rivendell and slid off his horse. "Lord Elrond!" he called desperately, hoping that the guards on duty had already announced his arrival, and that he wouldn't be shot on sight, "I bring pressing news from Eryn Lagaslen."
Clutching his missive fiercely in one hand, the elf ran the few steps required to bring him before the Lord of Rivendell, who stood beneath the towering arch.
"Lord Elrond…" he managed to get out before the other bade him pause.
"We have heard of the evils in the Shadowed Woods," Elrond said, "But there is a matter of utmost importance to be dealt with first, and now that you are here, the Council is complete."
"I don't understand…"
"You will," Elrond told the startled elf, "quickly now…"
~
The man slipped between two large boulders, and settled himself deeply in the shadows. Though he could not command a complete view of the Council from his corner, he judged it fair trade in order to remain unobserved. Gondor would be here today, and though he had renounced his throne, his heritage demanded that he was responsible for the welfare of 'his' people.
He watched dispassionately as Elrond entered with the two halflings, and gestured to the assembly before him.
"This is Gloin, whom you already know, and his son, Gimli, " Elrond was saying to Frodo, who stood timidly by his side, "Erestor, chief of my counsellors," - he nodded to the stately group of elves - "Galdor, of the Grey Havens, and this…" - Elrond gestured to a figure beyond the range of Aragorn's vision - "This is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood."
Aragorn bolted upright. A whisper from the shadow of a memory…Laeg galenas…green leaf… There was something about that name, something desperately important that lingered just out of reach… He leaned forward, seeking a glimpse of this stranger elf. Perhaps if he saw him…
But then a figure clad in rich clothing cleared his throat impatiently, and Aragorn turned to watch the man he had come here to see. Elrond smiled politely and moved Frodo in his direction. "Here," he said, "is Boromir, a man from the White City of Gondor."
With the introductions complete, Elrond addressed those gathered once again and spread his arms. "Here then, listen and take heed," he cried in a clear, ringing voice, "for this is the reason you have come…" And he spoke of Sauron and the One Ring, to those who listened in grave silence before him.
When he had finished speaking, Boromir stood, tall and proud, and told them in turn of Gondor and her wars and the Ring which had brought her so much pain. Aragorn listened to the ebb and flow of his words, and felt his heart contract with grief for his city. So when Boromir spoke of Narsil and Isildur's Bane, Aragorn could contain himself no longer.
Standing abruptly, he cast his sword upon the table that stood before Elrond, and the blade was in two pieces. "Here is the Sword that was Broken!" he cried.
"And who are you, and what have you to do with Minas Tirith?" asked Boromir, looking askance at the Ranger and his weather-stained cloak.
Aragorn paused, suddenly lost for words. He hadn't meant to call attention to himself, and now there was nothing he could say. Cursing his foolish outburst, the man looked desperately to Elrond.
Then a quiet voice sounded in the strained silence, and Aragorn felt the blood drain from his face. It was soft, yes, but unmistakable. Overlaid with new weariness, but in essence, still the same. He turned, not daring to let rising hope spill into the emptiness…
"He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur," the beautiful stranger said. Legolas turned emerald eyes filled with bittersweet joy to meet his own haunted gaze. "And you owe him your allegiance."
~ the end ~
© ai 2003
now read the sequel 'Silent words, Comfort me' and do review!
Thanks everyone!
