BURIED
By: Cheryl W
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of the Rings or anything in conjunction with the Lord of the Rings nor am I making a profit from this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: I'm going for a true plot with angst and some action this time around. The setting of the story is while Aragorn is chieftain of the rangers.
))))))))))))
Chapter 1
)))))))))
Aragorn smiled as a flame licked to life in the kindling. It had been a cold day of travel. He had coaxed each weary step from his complaining body with the promise of a roaring fire that night. But with the dampness in the forest from the previous day's rain, he despaired that he had promised something he could not now deliver.
"Good thing I'm a ranger," he said aloud to himself amid the darkening forest, impressed that he had the forethought to store some dry kindling in his pack before he departed on this particular journey. He smiled more brightly as he thought of what his two elven brothers would say to his boast...what they always said at his boast.
"Oh yes, the mighty ranger has saved us again," this mockingly from Elrohir.
"It would be a better thing if you were a farmer or a blacksmith and not in the path of danger daily...?!" Elladan would quip lowly, his eyes searing into his youngest brother's with a reprimand for his reckless ways.
Long ago Aragorn had learned to laugh off both responses. Suddenly he pulled his thoughts from his brothers back to his surroundings. He sensed someone was approaching and was not expecting company. Drawing his sword, he stood, studying the dark forest that surrounded him and straining to hear more signs of the other's approach.
"I mean no harm," came a man's voice from the darkness to Aragorn's right. Turning to face his "visitor", Aragorn still banished his sword, ready for anything as he heard footsteps draw closer. "I only wish to share your campfire, if I may."
"How many travel with you?" Aragorn asked calmly but with steel of strength in his tone.
"I travel alone as you will see," and Aragorn could finally make out the man's silhouette. Not hearing any other noise to indicate the man was accompanied, Aragorn let the man approach. As the man stepped into his small makeshift camp, by the fire light, the ranger intently studied the other man.
The man was roughly twenty years Aragorn's senior and by the haggard look of the man's dark features, the years had not been kind to him. Aragorn noted that the man dressed not so differently than a ranger...his clothing made to endure the wilds and appeared to be used in long service. Even in the man's stance and eyes, there were similarities to the rangers Aragorn lived with. But this man Aragorn did not know and part of him warned that he should not offer him his trust.
Re-sheathing his sword, Aragorn beckoned the man to a spot on the ground beside the camp fire. Trust and hospitality were two very different things in Aragorn's mind.
The other man nodded in gratitude. Sinking to Aragorn's indicated spot, he removed his bedroll and satchel, dropping them on the ground with disdain. "Everything I own is still damp from the storms the other night." He watched as Aragorn reclaimed his seat on his bedroll to his right. "I couldn't start a fire to save my life this night." A question seemed to linger in the man's eyes.
Recognizing that the man wanted to know how he had managed to build a fire, Aragorn did not answer but instead nodded his head as if in understanding, his eyes searching the other man's.
The man did not flinch under Aragorn's inspecting gaze and that in itself said much about the man and his own strong will.
"You do not find my camp by chance," Aragorn challenged, his eyes steadily meeting his visitor's.
At this, the other man smiled but there was steely purpose in the man's gaze, "You are very astute...just like your father," he softly said, waiting to see the reaction his words had on the ranger.
Shock tore through Aragorn at the man's words but outwardly he showed nothing but polite attention to the conversation. One did not live long in exile if one did not bury their emotions deep.
"Your real father, Arathorn," the other man clarified unnecessarily, his eyes still fixed on the younger man.
Suddenly the forest fell quiet, as if an unmentionable name had been uttered.
"What do you know of Arathorn?"
Though Aragorn's voice had been calm, the other man could not have missed the threat that lingered in the ranger's piercing gaze. One misstep here and he realized he would know, sooner than he anticipated, the extent of truth to the rumors of this ranger's deadly reflexes in battle. "I fought at his side until the end."
Even Aragorn could not contain his surprise at the man's admission. "You were a ranger at the time of my father."
Seeing that he had at last garnered a true reaction from the ranger, the man decided to proceed with more patience. He did not give voice to his answer but instead simply nodded his head in agreement.
"What is your name?"
"Barion. I was your father's second in command."
If the name meant anything to the ranger, Barion could not determine it. A twinge of worry coursed through him and he unconsciously inched his hand to his boot, ready to retrieve the knife he hid there if the winds of welcome turned.
Not for the first time, Aragorn cursed himself for not taking more interest in learning about his true father. The other man's name meant nothing to him. He knew little about his father's life or his companions. Deciding to not reveal his ignorance, Aragorn schooled his expression to remain unchanged and did not remark on the man's proclamation. "But you are not a ranger now...have not been one for long years."
"After your father died, I could not believe in the cause anymore. All it seemed to bring was death to our kind and hatred from the ones we were protecting," Barion's words hinted on bitterness, hoping to illicit a response form the ranger. His hopes were in vain.
Calmly Aragorn questioned, "Why do you seek me out now?"
"I saw you three months back...in Bree. Instantly I knew you were Arathorn's son. You have the same cut of the face, the same unflinching gaze, though his eyes were not as remarkable as yours are."
The comparison dealt Aragorn a shock. Throughout his life, he had always been compared with his adopted elven family. Never had he been told the similarities he bore to his real father. But to this he did not remark but pressed harder, his tone turning cold as his eyes seared into the other man. "Still you do not answer my question."
"I have some things of your father's. I thought you should have them." Without delay, Barion reached into his satchel and if he noticed that Aragorn tightened his hand on his sword hilt he did not react. Instead, he continued searching in his possessions until he retrieved a bundle of letters from the bag. Seeing the distrust in Aragorn's eyes, he held out the packet to the other man but made no move to close the distance between them.
Tentatively, Aragorn leaned over and took the packet in his hand before nodding his silent thanks to the ever watchful man at his side. He did not spare a look at the paper in his hands but kept his eye contact with Barion. "Am I to believe you had these letters with you by chance? If so, you wrongly think me a strong believer in odds."
Barion laughed at Aragorn's words. "That sounds like something Arathorn would say. No, Aragorn, it is not by chance that I have the letters. When I saw you, I returned home and retrieved the letters and sought you out."
"But not at the ranger camp," there was unmasked suspicion in Aragorn's tone.
"I thought it would be better if we met in private. The letters nor our words are for other's consumption."
Aragorn returned silence for the other's words but Barion felt as if he was being interrogated by Sauron himself in that silence. Unexpectedly, he found he could no longer fight down his urge to pull his look from the younger man's gaze. Letting his eyes drop to the fire a moment, he cursed the other's strong will. Never had he sensed such strength in Arathorn. Truly this man before him was more than Arathorn's equal. It was not a revelation that eased his task but it removed any hesitation he had on taking the next step.
Lifting his eyes to the man and being more than slightly unnerved to find the man's eyes still were fixed upon him, Barion forced a smile onto his face and quietly said, "I am tired. My old body is not used to the harsh treatment of travel anymore. Thank you for allowing me to share your camp." Aragorn nodded his head. Realizing that was all the response he was going to get, Barion spread out his bedroll beside the fire and stretched out for the night.
Aragorn watched Barion until he saw that the man's chest rose in even intervals, indicating sleep or at the least a very good guise of it. Laying his sheathed sword down in front of him, he finally let his eyes rest on the letters that he held. With tenderness and anxiety, he undid the twine that bound the letters. Unfurling the first sheet, his breath unintentionally caught. He did not have much of his father's but he had two letters his father had written to Elrond and as a child, he had poured over them word for word. He knew his own father's handwriting unerringly...and it was that same handwriting this paper bore.
Quelling his emotions, he focused on the words, each one like a link to the man that he had no memory of. The first sheet was a journal entry for the spring of 2930 and spoke of the gathering numbers of orcs in the south and the casualties of the rangers last winter. In flowing script, it listed each ranger and ranger's wife or child that had perished. Reverently, Aragorn touched the script, feeling as if he was touching a part of his father.
Turning to the next letter, Aragorn was startled to see his mother's handwriting. She spoke of how much she missed Arathorn. He smelled the letter and smiled as he caught the scent of roses, the scent he always associated with his mother.
But as he turned to the next envelope, he came up short. He knew this handwriting as well...even better than his father or mother's. And even if he had any doubt, the wax seal was unmistakable. With care, he opened the envelope, pulled the sheet of paper from it's safe depths and unfurled the letter. But as he began to read the sparse words, he found the letter did not contain what he had guessed it would. The words were clear and formal but there was a harshness that he had never expected from the letter's author.
(((((((((((((((((
"Arathorn,
I must apologize for my harsh words and our bitter parting. I hold you in high regard but you must understand I will not change my mind. My answer is firm and shall remain so.
I do not ask that you understand my decision or respect it or even forgive me for it. I deserve none of those considerations. But please know my refusal to shelter
Gilraen and your son does not reflect any disfavor you have achieved in my eyes. For reasons of my own I can not offer your family this refuge.
Elrond
(((((((((((((((((
Pain settled in Aragorn's heart. Betrayal was not a new experience for him but never had it come from Elrond, from the one he loved as a father. He wanted an explanation for his elven father's words, an explanation that would make the hurt piercing Aragorn's heart disappear. He began to search the remaining papers for another letter from Elrond. Finding one, he quickly opened it and read the missive but it did not ease his pain. Instead it dealt him a harsher blow than he could have ever foreseen.
)))))))))))))))))))
Arathorn,
If your son proves to be the one we have long waited for, I will do my duty and seek to protect the boy until manhood. My love for my brother Elros leads me to undertake this task if it be my burden. But until that truth is known, I stand by my firm decision.
Elrond
)))))))))))))))
For one moment, Aragorn wanted to toss the letters into the fire, to destroy their hateful words and even more bitter truths. "Do my duty", "protect the boy until manhood," "burden", no matter how hard he tried, he could not shut out the words of the one he once thought of as a father.
TBC
))))))))))))))
Love to hear what you think so far. Action and more angst coming up in the next chapter!
))))))))))))))))))))
Thanks Marbeinl for the prodding for a story (sorry again it's not the plot I promised) and for the help with the summary. I had to tweak it a little because I didn't reveal all the storyline to you.
)))))))))))))))
Cheryl W.
By: Cheryl W
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of the Rings or anything in conjunction with the Lord of the Rings nor am I making a profit from this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: I'm going for a true plot with angst and some action this time around. The setting of the story is while Aragorn is chieftain of the rangers.
))))))))))))
Chapter 1
)))))))))
Aragorn smiled as a flame licked to life in the kindling. It had been a cold day of travel. He had coaxed each weary step from his complaining body with the promise of a roaring fire that night. But with the dampness in the forest from the previous day's rain, he despaired that he had promised something he could not now deliver.
"Good thing I'm a ranger," he said aloud to himself amid the darkening forest, impressed that he had the forethought to store some dry kindling in his pack before he departed on this particular journey. He smiled more brightly as he thought of what his two elven brothers would say to his boast...what they always said at his boast.
"Oh yes, the mighty ranger has saved us again," this mockingly from Elrohir.
"It would be a better thing if you were a farmer or a blacksmith and not in the path of danger daily...?!" Elladan would quip lowly, his eyes searing into his youngest brother's with a reprimand for his reckless ways.
Long ago Aragorn had learned to laugh off both responses. Suddenly he pulled his thoughts from his brothers back to his surroundings. He sensed someone was approaching and was not expecting company. Drawing his sword, he stood, studying the dark forest that surrounded him and straining to hear more signs of the other's approach.
"I mean no harm," came a man's voice from the darkness to Aragorn's right. Turning to face his "visitor", Aragorn still banished his sword, ready for anything as he heard footsteps draw closer. "I only wish to share your campfire, if I may."
"How many travel with you?" Aragorn asked calmly but with steel of strength in his tone.
"I travel alone as you will see," and Aragorn could finally make out the man's silhouette. Not hearing any other noise to indicate the man was accompanied, Aragorn let the man approach. As the man stepped into his small makeshift camp, by the fire light, the ranger intently studied the other man.
The man was roughly twenty years Aragorn's senior and by the haggard look of the man's dark features, the years had not been kind to him. Aragorn noted that the man dressed not so differently than a ranger...his clothing made to endure the wilds and appeared to be used in long service. Even in the man's stance and eyes, there were similarities to the rangers Aragorn lived with. But this man Aragorn did not know and part of him warned that he should not offer him his trust.
Re-sheathing his sword, Aragorn beckoned the man to a spot on the ground beside the camp fire. Trust and hospitality were two very different things in Aragorn's mind.
The other man nodded in gratitude. Sinking to Aragorn's indicated spot, he removed his bedroll and satchel, dropping them on the ground with disdain. "Everything I own is still damp from the storms the other night." He watched as Aragorn reclaimed his seat on his bedroll to his right. "I couldn't start a fire to save my life this night." A question seemed to linger in the man's eyes.
Recognizing that the man wanted to know how he had managed to build a fire, Aragorn did not answer but instead nodded his head as if in understanding, his eyes searching the other man's.
The man did not flinch under Aragorn's inspecting gaze and that in itself said much about the man and his own strong will.
"You do not find my camp by chance," Aragorn challenged, his eyes steadily meeting his visitor's.
At this, the other man smiled but there was steely purpose in the man's gaze, "You are very astute...just like your father," he softly said, waiting to see the reaction his words had on the ranger.
Shock tore through Aragorn at the man's words but outwardly he showed nothing but polite attention to the conversation. One did not live long in exile if one did not bury their emotions deep.
"Your real father, Arathorn," the other man clarified unnecessarily, his eyes still fixed on the younger man.
Suddenly the forest fell quiet, as if an unmentionable name had been uttered.
"What do you know of Arathorn?"
Though Aragorn's voice had been calm, the other man could not have missed the threat that lingered in the ranger's piercing gaze. One misstep here and he realized he would know, sooner than he anticipated, the extent of truth to the rumors of this ranger's deadly reflexes in battle. "I fought at his side until the end."
Even Aragorn could not contain his surprise at the man's admission. "You were a ranger at the time of my father."
Seeing that he had at last garnered a true reaction from the ranger, the man decided to proceed with more patience. He did not give voice to his answer but instead simply nodded his head in agreement.
"What is your name?"
"Barion. I was your father's second in command."
If the name meant anything to the ranger, Barion could not determine it. A twinge of worry coursed through him and he unconsciously inched his hand to his boot, ready to retrieve the knife he hid there if the winds of welcome turned.
Not for the first time, Aragorn cursed himself for not taking more interest in learning about his true father. The other man's name meant nothing to him. He knew little about his father's life or his companions. Deciding to not reveal his ignorance, Aragorn schooled his expression to remain unchanged and did not remark on the man's proclamation. "But you are not a ranger now...have not been one for long years."
"After your father died, I could not believe in the cause anymore. All it seemed to bring was death to our kind and hatred from the ones we were protecting," Barion's words hinted on bitterness, hoping to illicit a response form the ranger. His hopes were in vain.
Calmly Aragorn questioned, "Why do you seek me out now?"
"I saw you three months back...in Bree. Instantly I knew you were Arathorn's son. You have the same cut of the face, the same unflinching gaze, though his eyes were not as remarkable as yours are."
The comparison dealt Aragorn a shock. Throughout his life, he had always been compared with his adopted elven family. Never had he been told the similarities he bore to his real father. But to this he did not remark but pressed harder, his tone turning cold as his eyes seared into the other man. "Still you do not answer my question."
"I have some things of your father's. I thought you should have them." Without delay, Barion reached into his satchel and if he noticed that Aragorn tightened his hand on his sword hilt he did not react. Instead, he continued searching in his possessions until he retrieved a bundle of letters from the bag. Seeing the distrust in Aragorn's eyes, he held out the packet to the other man but made no move to close the distance between them.
Tentatively, Aragorn leaned over and took the packet in his hand before nodding his silent thanks to the ever watchful man at his side. He did not spare a look at the paper in his hands but kept his eye contact with Barion. "Am I to believe you had these letters with you by chance? If so, you wrongly think me a strong believer in odds."
Barion laughed at Aragorn's words. "That sounds like something Arathorn would say. No, Aragorn, it is not by chance that I have the letters. When I saw you, I returned home and retrieved the letters and sought you out."
"But not at the ranger camp," there was unmasked suspicion in Aragorn's tone.
"I thought it would be better if we met in private. The letters nor our words are for other's consumption."
Aragorn returned silence for the other's words but Barion felt as if he was being interrogated by Sauron himself in that silence. Unexpectedly, he found he could no longer fight down his urge to pull his look from the younger man's gaze. Letting his eyes drop to the fire a moment, he cursed the other's strong will. Never had he sensed such strength in Arathorn. Truly this man before him was more than Arathorn's equal. It was not a revelation that eased his task but it removed any hesitation he had on taking the next step.
Lifting his eyes to the man and being more than slightly unnerved to find the man's eyes still were fixed upon him, Barion forced a smile onto his face and quietly said, "I am tired. My old body is not used to the harsh treatment of travel anymore. Thank you for allowing me to share your camp." Aragorn nodded his head. Realizing that was all the response he was going to get, Barion spread out his bedroll beside the fire and stretched out for the night.
Aragorn watched Barion until he saw that the man's chest rose in even intervals, indicating sleep or at the least a very good guise of it. Laying his sheathed sword down in front of him, he finally let his eyes rest on the letters that he held. With tenderness and anxiety, he undid the twine that bound the letters. Unfurling the first sheet, his breath unintentionally caught. He did not have much of his father's but he had two letters his father had written to Elrond and as a child, he had poured over them word for word. He knew his own father's handwriting unerringly...and it was that same handwriting this paper bore.
Quelling his emotions, he focused on the words, each one like a link to the man that he had no memory of. The first sheet was a journal entry for the spring of 2930 and spoke of the gathering numbers of orcs in the south and the casualties of the rangers last winter. In flowing script, it listed each ranger and ranger's wife or child that had perished. Reverently, Aragorn touched the script, feeling as if he was touching a part of his father.
Turning to the next letter, Aragorn was startled to see his mother's handwriting. She spoke of how much she missed Arathorn. He smelled the letter and smiled as he caught the scent of roses, the scent he always associated with his mother.
But as he turned to the next envelope, he came up short. He knew this handwriting as well...even better than his father or mother's. And even if he had any doubt, the wax seal was unmistakable. With care, he opened the envelope, pulled the sheet of paper from it's safe depths and unfurled the letter. But as he began to read the sparse words, he found the letter did not contain what he had guessed it would. The words were clear and formal but there was a harshness that he had never expected from the letter's author.
(((((((((((((((((
"Arathorn,
I must apologize for my harsh words and our bitter parting. I hold you in high regard but you must understand I will not change my mind. My answer is firm and shall remain so.
I do not ask that you understand my decision or respect it or even forgive me for it. I deserve none of those considerations. But please know my refusal to shelter
Gilraen and your son does not reflect any disfavor you have achieved in my eyes. For reasons of my own I can not offer your family this refuge.
Elrond
(((((((((((((((((
Pain settled in Aragorn's heart. Betrayal was not a new experience for him but never had it come from Elrond, from the one he loved as a father. He wanted an explanation for his elven father's words, an explanation that would make the hurt piercing Aragorn's heart disappear. He began to search the remaining papers for another letter from Elrond. Finding one, he quickly opened it and read the missive but it did not ease his pain. Instead it dealt him a harsher blow than he could have ever foreseen.
)))))))))))))))))))
Arathorn,
If your son proves to be the one we have long waited for, I will do my duty and seek to protect the boy until manhood. My love for my brother Elros leads me to undertake this task if it be my burden. But until that truth is known, I stand by my firm decision.
Elrond
)))))))))))))))
For one moment, Aragorn wanted to toss the letters into the fire, to destroy their hateful words and even more bitter truths. "Do my duty", "protect the boy until manhood," "burden", no matter how hard he tried, he could not shut out the words of the one he once thought of as a father.
TBC
))))))))))))))
Love to hear what you think so far. Action and more angst coming up in the next chapter!
))))))))))))))))))))
Thanks Marbeinl for the prodding for a story (sorry again it's not the plot I promised) and for the help with the summary. I had to tweak it a little because I didn't reveal all the storyline to you.
)))))))))))))))
Cheryl W.