Among the less pleasant duties of the Stewards was visiting the wounded in the Houses of Healing. Today however it was a fairly cheerful task for those who remained were well on their way to recovery and looking forward eagerly to release from the healer's toils.
As Ecthelion approached the chamber occupied by two Rohirric sword thains he heard them speaking in their own tongue to some other visitor, but it was not until he'd reached the half open door that his ear caught Captain Elfwine's habitually low pitched voice answering. The Steward knew enough of the language to gather the Men were eager to escape the healers and go home, and that their visitor was assuring them they soon would.
Ecthelion withdrew to a bench in the corridor and waited for Elfwine to emerge, speaking only after he had closed the door gently behind him. "You are eager to leave us, Captain?"
Elfwine went absolutely still as he always did when startled, a mannerism he shared with his brother, then turned calmly to face the Steward. "My Men are naturally anxious to see their homes again."
"But Rohan is not your home." Ecthelion observed, rising from his bench. "Nor is Minas Tirith," Elfwine returned composedly, "and I am not accustomed to cities of stone or great concourses of Men."
"Do you think you could become accustomed to them?" the Steward asked, falling into step with the younger Man.
"No doubt with time." he answered confidently.
"I am glad to hear it," said Ecthelion, "for I would ask you to enter the service of Gondor."
Once again Elfwine was caught in that sudden stillness - like a wild thing startled by a hunter. "I thank you, my Lord," he said after a moment, "but I have already given my oath to the King of Rohan."
"I have written to Thengel, and he has agreed to release you on condition your brother returns to him. He will not spare you both he says, not even for the love between Gondor and Rohan."
A ghost of a smile curved the captain's lips for an instant. "That sounds like my Lord Thengel." then soberly. "My Lord, I must consider this, and consult with my brother."
"I understand. I await your answer, Captain Elfwine."
--
"I can't believe you're seriously considering accepting!" Barahir fairly sputtered.
"Why not?" Aragorn demanded, pacing their chamber in restless excitement. "It's a perfect opportunity to really get to know my Southern Kingdom, and discover what kind of opposition I can expect."
"What about our mission in Rohan?" Barahir demanded.
Aragorn flashed him a smile. "You know perfectly well only one is truly required for that." he said: "They sent us both that you might keep an eye on me."
"And the One knows you need it!" his brother retorted. "Estel, this is madness and far too dangerous."
"No, brother, it is perfectly safe." Aragorn countered. "The Gondorim believe the Line of the Kings is extinct, that the last Heir of Isildur died nearly five hundred years ago. Nor will I give them any cause to think otherwise - for the time being."
"How much time?" Barahir demanded. "Estel, already we've been away a full four years. Ecthelion will certainly insist on holding you several more at the least. What of the North? You are our Chieftain, you have responsibilities at home."
"I have not forgotten." his brother answered, sobered. "But I have a very effective Regent in our Grandmother and Lieutenant in our Uncle Armegil. They managed very well during the years of my childhood and no doubt will do so again." he continued pleadingly. "Amin, this could be the first step to restoring the fortunes of our people. If I am to have any chance at all of reuniting the Dunedain I must know the South as well as I know the North. I must not come to them as an alien and an outsider that was why Arvedui was refused."
"He was refused because the Gondorim would cling to their stolen independence."(1) Barahir snapped then ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I see your will is set on this, Estel, but at least promise me you will not put forward your claim without a few of our own people to guard your back!"
"The Gondorim too are our people." Aragorn reminded him. "But I give you my word I will do nothing drastic without consulting with Grandmother and our Uncles. Will that do?"
"If needs must." Barahir sighed.
His brother's triumphant smile was edged with relief. "Then I will tell Ecthelion I accept his offer."
--
"Sir," Denethor said through clenched teeth, "I firmly believe it would be a grave mistake to accept this nameless Man from nowhere into the service of Gondor. I have many times spoken of my distrust of both him and his brother -"
"And I have warned you against allowing your personal feelings to sway your judgment, my son." the Steward answered coolly from behind his writing table, his attention apparently fixed on the papers before him.
"It is the foresight of our people which makes me distrust them." Denethor snapped back, shaking with barely contained fury. "I tell you this Elfwine carries some great peril with him, better he take it back to Rohan - or better still to whatever obscure kennel he came from!"
Ecthelion raised a bleak face to his son. "Such gibes do you no credit, Denethor. You must learn to control your temper, son, and your prejudices. My judgment tells me in Elfwine Gondor has gained a great captain and a strong sword for her defense, things she sorely needs."
'The great captain and strong sword I cannot be.' Denethor told himself bitterly.
His father read the thought and his expression softened. "I too have little skill in the arts of war, my son." he reminded him gently. "It is not necessary for a Steward to be a great warrior and captain, only that he be able to recognize and make use of those who are. This Man will be useful to Gondor, remember that and let it conquer your dislike of him."
"Yes, father." Denethor said tightly, unconvinced but defeated. Ecthelion studied his heir's rebellious face and sighed inwardly. Before he could say more there came a quiet rap on the door and his secretary poked his head in. "Captain Elfwine, my Lord."
"Admit him." the Steward ordered, rising and casting a warning look at his son.
Denethor lowered his eyes sulkily but lifted them as the other Man entered, they widened involuntarily.
Elfwine had put aside his barbaric Rohirric trappings and was clad now in the simple elegance of grey leather and fine spun wool, hems picked out with delicate traceries of silver thread. A star of glittering adamant fastened his cloak at the shoulder. A veritable lord of the Kings of Men he looked, grave and stately with the clear Elven light gleaming in his eyes.
He made his bow first to the Steward and then to the Steward's Heir. Ecthelion returned it but Denethor was frozen in place by his intense loathing and a kind of fear. 'This Man will destroy me, destroy the Gondor I love.' he knew it with a certainty beyond all reason. 'I must get out of here!' "Father!" he jerked a bow in the Steward's general direction and brushed by Elfwine as if he didn't exist on his way to the door.
Ecthelion frowned after him, then turned to the captain with a sigh. "I apologize for my son, Elfwine, he sometimes allows his temper to lead him into rudeness." The Captain nodded acceptance of the excuse but his brow puckered in a worried frown. "Denethor dislikes being gainsaid. He will get over it." Ecthelion dismissed his fractious heir from his thoughts and smiled at Gondor's new captain. "Elfwine is scarcely a fitting name for you now, my friend, as you are no longer a Rohirrim even by adoption. But in the Elvish tongue it would be Elendil and no lesser Man may bear that name."
"No indeed!" the captain agreed emphatically. After a moment's hesitation offered: "I have been called Thorion." (2)
"The Eagle's Son." Ecthelion mused. Yes, there was something eagle-like about the younger Man's regal bearing and piercing eye. His gaze fell on the glittering star, emblem of the Northern Dunedain. "Make it rather Thorongil, Eagle of the Star."
"As you wish, my Lord." said Thorongil.
--
NOTES:
1. Meneldil, son of Anarion, falsly claimed Isildur had ceeded the realm of Gondor to him and his heirs before his death at the Gladden Fields. By right he was no more than the High King's vice-regent in the South.
2. Aragorn was so called by the Great Eagles, in reference to his father whose name meant Royal Eagle and was regarded by them almost as one of their own.