Jebb: Galadriel won't be the one to avert disaster in this episode.
Farflung: Sooo, you think mauve suits Mithrandir?
Karri: Wait until you see Erestor swinging his sword in this installment!
Dragonfly: Yes, Elrond will be eating his words. I should probably do a chapter that explores the thoughts of a very chagrined Elrond. Hmm. What is the elvish for "I told you so"?
Erestor was catechizing Estel, and so happy was that boy at being included in the riding that he did not object in the least.
"Now the rulers of Arthedain," prompted Erestor.
"The rulers of Arthedain," declaimed Estel. "Amlaith of Fornost, eldest son of Eärendur, begat Beleg. Beleg begat Mallor, and Mallor begat Celepharn. Celepharn begat Celebrindor, and Celebrindor begat Malvegil. Malvegil begat Argeleb the First, and Argeleb the First begat Arveleg the First, who begat Araphor. Araphor begat Argeleb the Second, who begat Arveleg the Second, who begat Araval. Araval begat Araphant, and Araphant begat Arvedui Last King. This was the end of the North-Kingdom."
"Excellent. And the ancient forebear of all these kings?"
"Elendil, last leader of the Faithful of Númenor. In nine ships, he and his sons escaped from the Downfall. They bore away from the wreckage of Númenor seven seeing-stones and a seedling of Nimloth. Cast by a storm upon the shores of Middle-Earth, they established the Númenorean realms in exile, Arnor in the north and Gondor in the south."
"Excellent. And do you know the names of the kings of Arnor?"
"The kings of Arnor," recited Estel. "Elendil, Isildur, Valandil, Eldacar, Arantar, Tarcil, Tarondor, Valandur, Elendur, and Eärendur, who begat Amlaith, first of the rulers of Arthedain. Erestor, the kings of Arnor bear names in the High-elven, but the kings of Arthedain do not. Why is that?"
"Ah," said Erestor sadly, "the line had much declined by then. The abandonment of High-elven is a token of that. But the time will come," continued Erestor, straightening his shoulders, "when the heirs of Isildur shall again bear names in the High-elven."
"Erestor, after Malvegil, all the kings bear names that begin with 'Ar'—aye, and the Chieftains who follow them do so as well. Why is that?"
"After Malvegil, the heirs of Isildur once again laid claim to lordship over all of Arnor. Even after the descendants could no longer enforce their rights, in token of their claim, they prefixed the name of each son with the 'Ar'. And they do so today."
"And today the descendants of Isildur are the Dúnadain?"
"Aye, and of old they were led by a chieftain. Can you tell me the names of the Chieftains?"
"Aranarth, elder son of Arvedui," Estel began promptly. "Arahael, Aranuir, Aravir, Aragorn, Araglas, Arahad the First, Aragost, Aravorn, Arahad the Second, Arassuil, Arathorn, Argonui, and Arador. Is there no chieftain now?"
"Not at the moment."
"Will there ever be one again?"
"Perhaps."
"My father was called Arathorn. Was he named after Arathorn son of Arassuil?"
"Possibly."
"My true name is Aragorn. Was I named in honor of Aragorn son of Aravir?"
"Really, Estel, I am not in a position to know. No doubt Elrond will one day explain your parentage."
"But," Estel argued stubbornly, "I am of Ranger-kind, am I not? So it is very likely that I was named after that other Aragorn."
"Actually, Estel, you are not entirely of Ranger-kind. You have a bit of elvish blood in you. You are kin, albeit distantly, to Elrond."
Estel was delighted.
"I am! No one ever told me this! How is it that we are related?"
Erestor realized that he had said too much.
"Oh," he said hastily, "your genealogy is long and complex, and I do not think I could do it justice at the moment. In any event, it is really Elrond who should explain it to you. But enough of history and genealogy. Let us turn now to Natural History."
"Yes, Natural History," said Estel eagerly. "I have a question."
Erestor looked at him warily. Estel's questions were becoming too probing.
"Ye-es?" he said cautiously.
"Is it true that Orcs and Elves are related?"
"Estel!"
"Well," said Estel stubbornly, "some say it is true—that Orcs are descended from Elves who were tortured by the Dark Lord until their very souls were warped. Orcs and Elves both have pointed ears, is that not so?"
"Aye, and so do the Periannath, but I have never heard tell that Elves are kin to those little people."
"Maybe they are," argued Estel. "Maybe the Periannath are little Elves. Gandalf says that they can move as quietly as Elves and that they love tales and songs, as Elves do."
"Estel, you are talking nonsense. Let us talk about something serious, like Trolls."
"Oh," Estel said airily, "I know all about Trolls. They are big and stupid and waylay unwary travelers. They prefer to dwell in caves, because there they are protected from the rays of the sun, which will else turn them into stone. Gandalf says that on a journey with some Dwarves and a Periannath, he succeeded in petrifying three Trolls by tricking them into arguing with one another until sunrise. He says that to this day the three stand like statues in the clearing where they were preparing to cook the Dwarves and the Periannath. I should like to see that clearing some day!"
"Hmmph," muttered Erestor grudgingly, "not bad. However, I must tell you that lately there have been reports of Trolls abroad during the day, a new breed, apparently, although no one knows whence they have come. If true, this is ill news indeed."
"And I have heard," Estel added, "that an oliphaunt-like creature has been seen in the land of Harad, but much larger and fiercer."
"Aye, the mûmakil. I see bad things arising if this tale be true. Under control of the Southrons, such creatures could be deployed to great effect. Let us hope that there be nothing to these rumors."
Glorfindel rode up just then. He looked approvingly at tutor and pupil. To his very great surprise, not to mention delight, neither Estel nor Erestor had caused him a moment's worry.
"We stop now for the noon meal. There is a spring over yonder where you may wash."
Erestor looked pleased, Estel less so. The latter thought that there had been altogether too much bathing on this journey. "After all," he thought to himself, "of what purpose is an excursion if not to provide a break from routine." As bathing was very much a routine at Rivendell, ergo, on a journey it ought to forgone.
In spite of his objections, Estel nonetheless trailed obediently behind his tutor and splashed enough water upon his face to pass muster. The company's outriders had brought down several conies and squirrels, and Estel, under the direction of Baramagor, was set to skinning them. Estel had been unpleasantly surprised to discover that, as he had been deemed old enough to join the company, he was also deemed old enough to be the skivvy. "You are the youngest," Glorfindel had told him, "and each young one in his turn must haul water, gather wood, wash dishes, and skin and gut game. It is as much of your education as anything you learn on the library or in the field. It will do you no good to become an accomplished swordsman if you starve because you cannot cook a cony!"
Baramagor and Celaithand had been the youngest before Estel had joined the company, and fortunately for the little human, they were good-natured enough to lend him a hand, so he was not overwhelmed by his new responsibility. While Baramagor gave Estel lessons in skinning and gutting game, Celaithand collected the firewood and hauled the water, and after the meal all three joined together in washing the dishes. As soon as they had completed that task, Glorfindel gave the order for the company to mount up. All did so with a will, for they were nearing the pass to Lothlórien, and all were looking forward to arriving in that golden land. They had not traveled far, however, before Glorfindel began to feel uneasy. They were still below the tree line, so bird calls should still have been audible, but a deathly silence had fallen upon the mountain. Glorfindel raised his hand and brought the company to a halt.
"Dismount," he ordered. "Draw swords and string bows."
Standing beside Erestor, Estel drew his little dagger. Erestor frowned at him, but Estel pretended not to notice. Erestor carried no bow, but he drew his sword and positioned himself so that Estel was wedged between the Elf and the lad's pony. Estel tried to move to the side so that he could better see what transpired, but Erestor thrust him back with a growl. Startled at his tutor's uncharacteristic vehemence, Estel remained where he was.
Nothing could be seen in the trees that surrounded them, but Glorfindel ordered that arrows be nocked and strings drawn. Suddenly, at a nod from Glorfindel, a volley of arrows was released into the trees. Howls and shrieks broke out, and the Orcs forsook the cover of the trees.
Estel had seen Orcs and even slain two, but he had never seen a horde of them in full charge. Unnerved, he dropped his little blade and began to scramble about on the ground, frantically trying to retrieve it. This was probably fortunate, as it gave Erestor free play to swing his sword. Estel was splattered with blood as Erestor beheaded first one, then another, then a third Orc. Awed, Estel momentarily gave up looking for his knife. Was Erestor a balrog-slayer then!? Suddenly, however, Estel spied his dagger and lunged for it—and just in time, too. For all his efforts, Erestor had been surrounded and was imperiled. Crouched on the ground, unnoticed, Estel drove his knife into the calf of one of the foes who pressed Erestor so. The Orc yelped and looked down, and Erestor drove his sword into his gut. He yanked his sword free and hacked off the arm of another Orc who had likewise been lamed by Estel.
Orcs are stupid, but it was not too long before they perceived the danger that lurked at their feet. Soon several Orcs were in pursuit of the little human. Cleverly, Estel escaped them by slipping underneath first one horse, than another. He was now, however, separated from Erestor, and that Elf looked about frantically in an effort to spy his young charge. At last he caught sight of the lad, who, having run out of horses to hide under, was climbing a tree. Ai! Orcs are not the most agile of creatures, but several were nonetheless swarming up the tree after Estel. The boy reached the uttermost branch and looked from side to side, gauging the distance to the nearest tree. It was obvious that he meant to jump for it, and Erestor prayed that he would make it. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate. Estel gathered himself to spring but suddenly looked up as a shadow loomed over him. Seized in the talons of an enormous winged creature, in a trice the heir to the throne of Gondor had vanished.