2410
BS
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and all its characters, places, plot, etc. belong to other people. Too many to list them all. No infringement intended. Not claiming it as my own . . . not that it really matters. -sigh-
Warnings: Confusing dream sequence. And AU-ness.
Notes: Hah ha! Oh ho oho ho. Umm . . . hahaha. It's just one of those fics. Hahaha.
Also, symbolism is very important in this chapter. I promise. The italicized speech/song came directly from Galadriel in the book.

Ephemeral

chapter six

Estel had a dream. In his dream, he was sleeping in a circle of fire, with hot coals under his skin. He was covered in a thick blanket of smoke. There were stars hanging in the sky above him, twinkling majestically. One star was brighter than all the others, and this star was directly above his eyes. He could barely see through the smoke, only saw a shimmer of light growing brighter and brighter. Suddenly, the bow of a ship appeared and cut through the smoke. The light was on the ship, and it circled around him. The stern of the ship turned away from him, and he could see the escutcheon on it. He could not read the name, but was pacified with the picture of a great white gull bronzed onto the wooden ship. The ship stopped next to him, and a man jumped off the deck. He had no head, only a glowing light in its place.

"Are you a Vala?" he asked, awed.

The man did not answer. He stood outside of the flames, arms on his hips and legs imposingly planted apart. He stood strong and tall, and looked directly at Estel. He walked forward defiantly, then reached down and extended a hand to Estel. His arm was not bothered by the flames. They licked at him, but they might as well have not existed. "You must be strong, Aragorn. There is a heavy burden on your shoulders."

"Aragorn?" he asked. The man nodded sagely. Estel reached for his hand, but the fire burned him, and he recoiled. Eyes shut, he hissed in pain. When he looked again, the man and the ship were gone. The coals were still underneath him, but someone had stoked them, for they burned hotter and snapped violently. The flames were taller, extending high into the sky. The stars were gone, only the blackness of night remained. He reached to where the glowing man had been, and felt someone pick him up. He saw that it was his father.

"Estel," his dream-father said. "I have come to take you home." He carried him lovingly against his chest, whispering to him soothingly. He walked for hours, holding Estel in his arms. The darkness was replaced by moonlight, and a wide ocean opened up before him. They were on the coast, and the waves crashed against the shore. Estel had never seen the ocean before. Still, he recognized it as though it had always been his home. His father set him down in the shallows; the water cooled his burned feet.

"Where are we?" he asked his dream-father. He had told him that he was taking him home, but this was not home.

Dream-Elrond was quiet for a long time, just watching the water crash into the shore. "I am unhappy, my son," he said at length. Estel looked at him quizzically. "There is something in this sea that I would very much like to have." He started to silently cry, and Estel clung to his legs. "Alas! I should not speak of it, for it has been lost many ages ago."

Estel sniffled. If there was something bad enough to make his father cry, then it must surely be sad! "Tell me, Father, what you seek, and I will get it for you!"

"Would you, Estel? Would you, truly?" Elrond knelt in front of Estel and placed both hands on his shoulders. "I want it terribly."

Estel nodded with only the slightest hint of doubt. He turned to the ocean and jumped into the icy waters. He swam without the need for air for many hours until he spotted a glimmer on the ocean floor. He did not know what he was looking for, but somehow knew that this was it. As he got closer, he saw that it was a glowing sphere. He stopped swimming, enthralled by its radiance, then reached out to touch it. His hand was suddenly aflame, even under the water. The glowing circle was burning him and he screamed in agony. His voice was joined by another scream, this one more mellifluous and gentler.

His dream shifted suddenly, and he was in a forest glen with his father, his brothers, and his sister sitting around him. He was moaning with the pain in his palm. His hair was done up in braids, and he felt that he was older than he should have been. The tree branches above him where gray. Beech. There was moss under his back, and it served as a decent cushion as he lay there. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and it ran into his eyes. He held them closed and turned onto his side.

"Are you in pain, my son?" Elrond asked. There was something different about him, something that Estel could not understand. His movements were exaggerated and overlapped, so that there were many Elronds at one time.

"Pain is nothing," he heard himself say. He clenched his hand into a fist and saw molten metal run from his hand. "It is death that concerns me, and my wretched fate as a mere mortal." He curled into a fetal position and tried not to watch as the metal ran around him from his hand. It seared him when it touched his skin and he could see it blanketing him under its polished surface. The metal poured and poured, and soon it enveloped him completely. He could think of nothing but the burn of it and the pain consumed him.

The metal cooled and hardened, then cracked in thousands of tiny lines all over his body. He could move, and he stepped out of his metal coffin. His family was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was in a tomb. There was row after row of graves inside the tomb. He was standing next to the eldest, and looked at its dust-covered insignia. Elros-Tar-Minyatur. The name was very familiar, but he could not think of where he had heard it before. Suddenly, the lid of the sepulcher shifted and a man sat upright. Estel gasped as he saw his father in the grave. "You are in the line of the Kings of Númenor. Intruder!" The figure sprang to its feet, and all around the dead were rising. A woman at the end of the line looked at him with scorn. "You do not belong here. You are not of the line!" His father shouted. They chased him with swords until he ran from the tomb into the light of the outside.

He ran outside and a mountain loomed behind him. In front of him stood a great silver tree. Trapped in its branches was the Elf-lady he had seen before in his dreams. She was sleeping with a content smile on her face, but stirred when he walked in front of her. The branches held her suspended in the air, with her long chiffon dress blowing in the wind. She smiled at him mysteriously, and the branches holding her writhed like snakes and then moved until they carried her to float in front of him. "You have traveled many long days, Arathornsson," she said.

Arathorn? He had heard that name before -- somewhere. He bowed in front of her, as it seemed to be the only thing to do.

She laughed merrily. "No green mound shall grow under the withered branches of Lothlorien." She said this with finality. "The time for that had passed." A hard wind blew without warning and shook the silver tree's mighty limbs. She shook with the force of it. Tears sprang to his eyes from the bitter chill. "A north wind blows," she muttered. Her hair fell around her in a golden curtain. She suddenly seemed to remember that he was in front of her. "My child," she said like a matriarch. "You have been cast into eternal fire." He shivered. "Not even Grinding Ice would save you, now."

He stared at her and felt his heart grow heavy with her words. "Are you a Vala?" he asked.

She laughed splendidly. He saw the tree shake with amusement. "Nay, child. But, do not despair, for there is still hope. Hold this thought tightly to your breast. Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees! The years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly. Who now shall refill the cup for me? For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars, from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds, and all paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us, and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever. Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!" As she spoke, Estel's eyes were lulled to close. He opened them at the end of her song to see that her arms were no longer arms. Instead, they were long golden branches extending from her shoulders. He stood frozen as her right 'arm' entwined with a branch from the silver tree and then extended forward to pierce him through the heart.

He fell backward, but landed in a sea of tall grasses. Daisies peppered the ground around him as little white dots in a field of yellow. He rose to his feet and looked around. He turned around in a complete circle and there was a brunette woman standing in front of him. She wore white, with gold clasps holding the fabric together beautifully. In her left hand were reins connected to a large blood bay mare. In her right hand were the reins to a snow-white gray mare. He felt no fear being in their presence. She mounted the bay mare and the reins disappeared from the horse. Instead, she held tightly to her mane and the horse walked into a canter. The gray mare remained. He walked to her and climbed upon her back. She took off after her companions.

Estel found a strange sense of peace overwhelm him. He had never learned to ride. He had been too young before his accident, and too scared afterward. He was riding on the back of his horse, hair blowing in the wind. He chased after the girl on the horse. She was not beautiful, he thought. However, there was something about her that called to him. He rode close behind her, could see her smiling face beneath a wave of dark hair. "Wait!" he called to her. "What is your name?"

She did not slow, only shouted something to the wind. The sound reached his ears as a low wail on the wind. She pressed harder and soon her mount disappeared over the edge of a hill. He followed, but could find no trace of the girl or her horse. He pulled his own steed to a halt, and stood in the middle of a large meadow. There was a darkness in front of him, and he rode toward it. The meadow faded away and he rode the gray mare on scorched earth. Black gates loomed before him. Without warning, his horse reared sharply and he fell from its bare back. The ground smacked him hard and his eyes opened widely.

Breathing hard, Estel looked at his surroundings. He was sitting upright in a bed, and after a moment realized that he was in his room in Rivendell. Arwen was sitting in a chair to his right, book folded on her lap. Elrond was standing against the far wall, his back turned to him. He was pouring something and turning to glance at the stars past the window. On each side, a twin lay on his bed. He fell back onto the bed, and the movement stirred them. They turned to him as one and petted his hair affectionately. Arwen stirred from her book and Elrond came to him from the window.

"Estel," he read as his father spoke. "You have been ill, my son."

He felt Arwen hug him tightly and realized that he could hear nothing. He dreamed with sound. Then . . . this was real? He pondered the implications. He remembered going to sleep in the stable with a headache. There were bits and snatches of half-remembered dreams. He could remember it being hot. How did he come home? No one there knew of his past in Rivendell . . .

Arwen touched his shoulder. She waited until he was looking at her before saying, "We have missed you greatly, Estel. Please, tell us why you left home." He realized that he had never heard her voice in reality. His mind supplied a tone and pitch that did not belong to her. Her face was perplexed as she waited for his answer.

He considered his question. He could not answer honestly. He could not allow himself to look foolish -- and, he was so foolish! Nor could he admit that he had failed in his goal. He had never made it to Fornost. His journey from Rivendell had been in vain, and he could not say it aloud. Tears sprang from his eyes. He pulled his blankets fiercely from under his brothers, and covered his head. The tears fell freely now, and his shoulders shook from his sobs.

He felt a warm touch on his shoulder, then the bed shifted and he felt his brothers leave. There were no other movements that he could feel and he assumed that they had left. His sobs came harder, and he threw the blanket from his warm body. He stumbled out of the bed, weak on his legs, and staggered to the window. He looked up into the night sky, searching for the bright star that had been in his dreams. There was a bright star in the sky, Eärendil. He thought aloud, "Could this be that star?" He shook his head. No, the star in his dreams had been a man on a boat. Still, the man's words echoed inside of his head. "You must be strong Aragorn. There is a heavy burden on your shoulders." There was a comfort in that thought, and he fell asleep with his head propped on his forearm, gazing into the night sky.

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next update: Monday, September 20, 2004

. . . a happy ending? It's on the agenda. (Only five parts to go.)