In Dreams - Aragorn
Rose G
Aragorn smiled as he walked, enjoying the sun beating down on his back and dappling the grassy track on which he walked. Alongside him, Elladhan walked; talking to him- telling his younger brother some story that was starting to bore Estel. Father was good at telling stories, but his twin brother's attempts left a lot to be desired.
Eventually, he allowed Elladhan to walk ahead and headed off through the vast pine forests to his left. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the chuckling of the waterfall, and the soft vice of Glorfindel talking to Asfaloth. I wish there were someone else around out here, Estel thought. There is such a thing as to many Elves and too much joy.
He started violently, leaping but landing as quietly and in balance as the Elves who had raised him. A man, one of the few mortals that Estel had ever seen was standing where surely, no one had been standing a minute ago. He was tall, much taller than Estel and leaning on a fine wooden staff worn smooth with age. Long iron-grey hair cascaded around his shoulders, blue eyes that seemed very young sparkled with mirth and he wore a curiously shaped grey hat. Clad in a dark grey cloak and worn leather boots he looked like a King of myth and legend, born on wind driven ships from across the sea when Numenor drowned. Why do I feel as though I should know this man?
'Who are you, and for what reason do you walk in Imladris?'
'I am Gandalf - Gandalf the Grey. You must have heard the name, for it is part of your heritage and your destiny. And now, I have to speak with Elrond, your father.' The stranger walked off at a pace which belied his fragile appearance, and try as he did, Estel found himself dropping behind. There was something about this man that commanded respect, and he followed because he wasn't sure what else to do.
Later, when dark had fallen over Rivendell and Gandalf had finished his conversation with Elrond, he sat with Estel in the Hall of Fire. The fires were reflected in his blue eyes and entranced, Estel watched as the old Wizard blew smoke rings, sending one through another and changing the colour. And he listened to Gandalf's tales of far away places; the story of Beren and Luthien whose love conquered death itself, of the great glory and grief of Numenor and the exploits of Bilbo Baggins and the Dwarves. The tales he knew well, but told by Gandalf they seemed to take on an immediacy an impact that Estel felt might affect his own life.
Much, much later when Estel had fallen asleep to dream of a white tree in a starry night with stones at its base, Gandalf paused again to speak quietly to Elrond. 'That one is equal and more to his task. Numenor in the days of old would not have been a kingdom fair or large enough for him. A companion and ally like him will be a blessing.' The Elf and Wizard smiled as they looked down on him and even in his dream, he felt the strength of Elrond's love.
Miles away, years later, Aragorn woke with a start. The wind cut through him, yet the sound of Rivendell echoed in his ears. The feeling of being watched - gently, as a parent their child, was strong and he turned to see Gandalf watching the Fellowship. 'Sleep, Aragorn. You can rest for now, as no harm will come to you or any of the Fellowship while I am here.' And with the unchanged words soothing him, the Ranger slipped back into sleep.