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Silently, Aragorn treaded the familiar path through the trees of Rivendell until he reached a mound of raised earth, unkempt from years of solitude.
He knelt down upon one knee, before the tomb, and brushed away the leaves and moss that had all but covered a small, unadorned headstone. With his finger, he carefully traced the inscription that the stone bore.
Gilraen.
His mother's name.
'Happy birthday, Estel, my son.'
'Thank you, Mother.'
She kissed him upon the cheek and smiled. He has grown so much..., she thought, sighing into her hand.
Noticing this, he gave her a curious look.
'What is it, Mother?'
'It is nothing, Estel,' she said with a gentle smile. '...You aren't a little boy any more, and the time seems to have passed by so quickly...'
'I have grown much indeed,' he replied, his grey eyes shining, 'Seeing as how you can no longer kiss me upon my head as you once did...'
'If you continue on like this, Estel,' she scolded, in a mock tone, 'Your head will be clear above every tree in Imladris...'
'My apologies, Mother,' he said, smiling. 'I will try my hardest to stop growing.' With that he gave her affectionate kiss atop her head.
'See that you do,' she said with a laugh.
'You and Father wished to speak with me this morning, did you not?' he inquired.
'Yes, Estel... We have many things to speak of, my son. It is an important day.'
He nodded soberly.
She smiled softly. 'Come. Let us not keep Lord Elrond waiting...'
'Ah, Estel, Lady Gilraen. Please, enter.'
They nodded. 'Thank you, Father.' 'Thank you, Lord Elrond.'
He gestured for them to sit.
'Happy birthday, Estel,' Elrond started, with a slight smile.
Nodding, Estel replied, 'Thank you very much, Father. It is a glad day for me.'
'As well it should be,' Elrond returned. 'Eighteen years have passed since you and your mother first came into my care, and it has been a great privilege to have watched you grow into manhood. May the stars of Elbereth watch over you always.'
'I thank you.'
Elrond nodded and continued. 'Your mother and I had long decided that today, the twentieth anniversary of your birth, and the beginning of your journey as a man, would be the day that we would reveal to you your significance in the world of Men.'
Estel was silent. His mother looked at him and gently squeezed his hand.
Elrond pondered the boy for a moment. He closed his eyes briefly and began.
'Your given name is Aragorn. I am not your true father, as I know you have guessed but have never questioned. Your father's name was Arathorn, and he passed away when you were two years of age.' He paused and looked at Estel.
'...Aragorn...' He looked at his mother, as if doubtful of the name.
Gilraen nodded to him and drew his hand to her. 'That is what I named you, my son.' She kissed his hand.
He looked to Elrond. 'My father... my true father... how did he die?'
Elrond's demeanor turned grim, and he did not look at Estel as he spoke. 'He was accompanying my sons in their pursuit of a band of Orcs... He was pierced through the eye by one of the foul creatures' arrows.'
Estel bowed his head slightly, and Gilraen closed her eyes.
'...Shall I continue?' Elrond asked, after a moment of silence had passed.
Estel nodded.
'Your father was of a race of Men that we Elves call the Dunedain.'
'The Men of the West,' Estel replied, perking up slightly.
Elrond nodded. 'Yes, the Men of the West, descendants of a kingly race of Men, the Numenoreans of old.'
'Elendil -- Elendil was one. And his son, Isildur, who--'
Elrond held up a hand to quiet him, but smiled in amusement. 'You have learned your history well, son of Arathorn. Indeed, the Men of the West are the very descendants of Elendil and Elendil's son Isildur who fought in the battle of Dagorlad long ago.'
'You fought there as well, Father... Lord Elrond.'
Elrond's eyes darkened. 'Yes... I fought.' He hesitated for a moment. 'The Battle of Dagorlad...' he recounted, 'The Last Alliance of Elves and Men against the foul minions of Mordor. The Men of Elendil and the Elves of Gil-galad fought side by side to protect the earth from the spreading evil of that wretched land. All seemed lost, when the Dark Lord came. But, in a moment of courage, Elendil raised up his sword Narsil to vanquish the Enemy, and was defeated. Isildur then took his father's sword in his hands, and even as the blade was broken, Isildur cut from the Dark Lord's hand the source of all his malicious power, The One Ring. It was Isildur... Isildur, who did not destroy the Ring, but kept It for his own, and It betrayed him to his death and was lost.' Elrond was silent for a short while, deep within his thoughts. He soon returned to the matter at hand. 'Yes, Aragorn, you are a descendent of the ancient kings, but even more, you are a direct descendent from Isildur son of Elendil himself. You are Isildur's Heir, and therefore heir to the throne of Gondor and the leader of the Dunedain of Arnor as well. You are a king -- that is, if you accept your lineage and prove yourself worthy of such honor, you will be able to claim what is rightfully yours.' Elrond paused, allowing his words to sink into the boy's head. He then said, 'As you are the Heir of Isildur, it is my duty and honor to bestow to you now, Aragorn son of Arathorn, the Shards of Narsil, Elendil's Sword that was Broken.'
Elrond rose from where he sat, and presented Estel with a bundle of beautifully woven, yet much-faded cloth. Inside, the fragments and hilt of the ancient sword shone, untarnished despite the passing of centuries. Estel held the hilt in his hand, stunned beyond words at the legendary blade he now possessed. When he could manage it, he asked, 'What must I do to claim my honor?'
'You must go out into the world, Aragorn, and learn to be a man. The distinction does not come merely with age. You have much yet to discover of how the earth and its peoples coexist that you cannot learn from being isolated here in Imladris. You must prove yourself to be a leader of men -- only then will they follow you.'
Estel then inquired, somewhat tentatively, 'And if I do not wish to be a leader of men?'
'Then you will live in exile, and eventually fade away with your brethren the Dunedain.'
More silence passed.
'Whatever you decide is your choice alone, but the fact remains that you are Aragorn son of Arathorn, and your future awaits you beyond the confines of Imladris. Do you accept this?'
'I do.'
Elrond rose from his chair, and the others did likewise. 'In the name of Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris, I bid you safe journey, my son.'
'Thank you, Lord. I will go with glad heart and strong mind.'
They embraced warmly, and Estel departed, with much to think over.