Grumpy: So you were laughing outloud, eh? As Gandalf would say, "Bad sign, that"!
Kelly Kragen: Yes, you're right. Legolas' face is smudged with dirt or smoke when they come out from Moria onto the mountainside. Otherwise, he seems impervious to grime. Remember when he returns Arwen's pendant to Aragorn? Aragorn's hands are grubby and bloody, but Legolas' hands look as if he'd just had a manicure. Wonder if Peter Jackson made Orlando Bloom wear mitts off camera that day. Probably Jackson would've docked Bloom's pay if he'd chewed his nails. Now Elijah Wood, he'd probably have docked his pay if he hadn't!
Joee: You will be pleased to know that I have started work on an Edwen Nana story that gives her a name and a past. Or maybe you won't be pleased to know that, as no doubt it will distract me a little from this story. Hear that, everyone? Blame Joee!
Chapter 38: What's In a Name?
The next morning Haldir and his brothers, to their great disappointment, were sent back to Lothlórien to inform Celeborn that all were safe and that Galadriel had decided to travel on to Imladris. After the Lórien brothers had departed, Glorfindel and his warriors arrived, and now a very large party was encamped most comfortably for the several days Elrond deemed they should wait before moving Halbarad and Legolas (although that young Elf had revived considerably after Elrond applied a poultice to his infected wound). Glorfindel's Elves had packed cloth for pavilions and had brought cooking utensils and ample provisions. The anxieties of the last several days subsided as Elves stooped over cooking fires and passed around platters laden with food. Only Elrond expressed any displeasure over the situation.
"You tried to convince me that all would be well," he said to Glorfindel, "but everyone got into trouble of one sort or another."
"But," argued Glorfindel, "you must see that it is good that Estel went, for he was able to warn Elrohir and Elladan that they were being pursued by Orcs. And it was good that Elrohir and Elladan went, because they were able to rescue Halbarad from the pit."
"True," said Elrond, "but if Elrohir and Elladan hadn't gone in the first place, then they wouldn't have needed warning, and if Estel hadn't gone, then Halbarad wouldn't have needed rescuing because he wouldn't have been anywhere in the neighborhood of that sinkhole!"
"Now, Elrond," Gandalf interjected, "you know that it is not feasible for you to keep young Elves and a novice Dúnadan bottled up in Imladris. No, no more than Thranduil can keep Legolas under lock and key."
"Oh, and that's another one," declared Elrond. "I am sure Thranduil will be so pleased to know that his son ran off into the Misty Mountains, where an Orc tried to literally slice him to ribbons."
"True," Galadriel joined in, smiling archly, "and Mithrandir may have to forfeit his staff on that account."
"Forfeit his staff?" said Elrond, puzzled. "But how can a wizard get on without a staff?"
Glorfindel snorted.
"Never mind that," said Gandalf, glaring at Glorfindel. "I have no intention of forfeiting my staff!"
He arose.
"I think I'll just go and check on Halbarad," he declared huffily. And off he stomped.
Estel was sitting with Halbarad, and Gandalf's mood softened when he saw the youth—no, the young man!—proffering a water bladder to the injured Dúnadan. No one would have thought badly of Estel if he'd been off skylarking with some of the younger Elves, but the novice Ranger preferred to look after the Man who had hitherto been looking after him.
As the wizard studied the young Man, he realized just how much he had changed since returning from Mirkwood. He had shot up in height and put on muscle. His voice had deepened, and fine hair grew upon his lip and chin. Galadriel had been very nearly right; Estel was only a few hairs shy of a beard.
The young Ranger smiled a welcome at the wizard and gestured for him to sit down upon a folded cloak. Gandalf complied.
"May I bring you anything, Mithrandir?"
"No, thank you, Estel. I dined at Elrond's campfire."
"I suppose Elrond is dismayed that we got into a scrape or two."
"Oh, yes. He is giving his eyebrows a vigorous workout."
"Glorfindel always used to warn him that some day his eyebrows would become stuck just below his hairline and that he would then look perpetually surprised."
"Not an inappropriate expression for a parent, I expect."
"But, truly, we did not do too badly, did we, Mithrandir?"
Indeed, you did not. In fact, you did very well. You made appropriate decisions and acted upon them in an exemplary fashion. For all his grumbling, Elrond is proud of you. He will not object when you venture forth again after Halbarad's leg has healed."
"Good! For I must venture forth. There is something I need to do, although I am not sure what it is."
"Hmmm. An interesting observation, that. So, do you think there is a quest in your future?"
"I do not know—only that I will not always be at Rivendell."
"Well, well," said Gandalf, standing up and brushing off his robe, "perhaps you should have a chat with Elrond when you return to Rivendell. He may be able to offer you some suggestions. Have you seen Legolas?"
"He is at Elladan and Elrohir's campfire."
"Behaving himself?"
Estel grinned, suddenly looking very much the boy again.
"As I said, he is with Elladan and Elrohir!"
"Hmmph! I'd better check on him."
Gandalf strolled over to the twins' campfire. There he found that Legolas, who, before Rúmil had departed, had at last claimed the bottle of wine that the Lórien Elf had twice proffered, was threatening to not share it with his foster-brothers. He was holding the bottle above his head, and Elrohir was grappling for it.
"If you don't give over that game," called Gandalf, "the bottle will soon be broken, and then no one will have any. Here, you'd better let me hold it."
Legolas relinquished the bottle to the wizard, who promptly turned and walked away with it back toward Elrond's campfire.
"Here now! Where are you going!?" a startled Legolas shouted after him.
"I implied that no one would have any wine if the bottle broke," Gandalf called over his shoulder, "but I didn't say that you would be the one to drink it if it didn't."
The young Elves looked helplessly at each other for a few seconds before bursting into good-natured shouts of protest that they flung at the back of the retreating Istar. He was unmoved, however, and the next day he cheerfully told the young Elves that the wine had been much appreciated at Elrond's campfire. It had turned out that Glorfindel had not ordered that the beverage be one of the items packed by his warriors.
The time drew near for the company to depart for Rivendell. The night before, horses were heard approaching from the east. Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin cantered into the camp, the three of them grinning ferociously.
"The Lord Celeborn has decreed that we are to accompany the Lady Galadriel to Imladris," Orophin announced proudly. "She needs an escort appropriate to her status."
"Then I wonder at your having been chosen," gibed Elrohir. "Wasn't that your arrow in Mithrandir's hat, Orophin?" The Imladris Elf was in fact delighted that the Lórien brothers had rejoined the company, but, of course, it would never do to admit that.
"Actually," Haldir later confided to Elladan, "I think Celeborn simply wanted to get rid of Rúmil. My brother is quite taken by his latest elleth and has been loitering about in a tree near her flet, serenading her at the most inopportune moments. So lovelorn is he that his limbs no longer obey him, and as a result he has fallen from the tree several times. The last occasion, he landed at the feet of the father of his belovéd, and that Elf promptly stormed off to Celeborn's talan. The next morning Celeborn summoned us and informed us that we had been chosen to ride with Galadriel to Imladris."
"Well, whatever the reason," said Elladan, "I am glad you and your brothers have returned. Something exciting is sure to happen now."
The next morning, when they left for Imladris, Legolas was fully able to sit his horse. Halbarad, of course, still had to be borne in a litter, but, since there were plenty of Elves to take turns carrying it, the party was still able to move at a good pace.
When they arrived at Rivendell, Halbarad was at once carried to the House of Healing, and Elrond urged Estel to go there likewise.
"You should spend some time in your mother's company, Estel. Dwell in a chamber in the House of Healing for the next fortnight so that you may spend all your waking hours with her. You have grown much lately, and it would give her great pleasure to marvel at the changes that have taken place in you."
Estel gladly agreed and followed the stretcher bearers to the House. His mother was not in her chamber, and he knew to look for her in one of the gardens. There she lay sleeping lightly, her head pillowed on her cloak. Estel stole silently toward her and woke her gently, lest he startle her.
"Naneth," he said softly. "Nana."
She opened her eyes and gazed at him, momentarily confused.
"Arathorn?"
"No, Nana. I am Estel."
"You have grown to look much like Arathorn."
"My father?"
"Yes, your father."
"Nana, was my father named after—"
Gilraen placed a finger upon his lips.
"I do not wish to speak of the past, for then I must think of the future. Let me enjoy you in the here and now."
These words puzzled Estel, but he was used to being mystified on the subject of both his heritage and his destiny. As always, he shrugged off his bewilderment and amused his mother by telling her droll stories of his adventures, leaving out or minimizing anything that might suggest that he had been in danger.
Estel spent a very pleasant two weeks in the company of his mother, but increasingly he found himself gazing up toward the mountains that sheltered the valley of Rivendell. He had journeyed past the borders of Imladris only a few times; still, and even though he could remember no other home, he knew that this was not the place in which he was destined to dwell. One day his mother spoke to him as he gazed upward.
"You are restless, my son."
"I have always been restless, Nana."
"This is a new restlessness and not the wriggling of an impatient child."
"Nana, for as long as I can remember, I have been training with bow and sword and have been drilled in the history of Gondor, distant though that land be. There is a reason for this."
"I think," said Gilraen calmly, "that it is now time for you to speak with your foster-father, for the tale begins long before I was born, and Elrond is one of the few who can tell it from his own memory. But promise that you will come back to me before you depart."
There was a finality in Gilraen's voice that caused Estel to lock eyes with his mother. She met his gaze unwaveringly.
"I will, Nana," Estel said at last.
"Much will be gained, but much lost," he heard a voice say. It sounded so much like Gandalf that he swung about in search of him, but no one was in the garden save his mother. She smiled knowingly. If she had then stood side by side with Galadriel, they could have been sisters.
"Some would say that you are a wizard's pupil, but I do not think that is a bad thing. Mithrandir wants nothing for himself. He has sacrificed much, suffered much, on your behalf, and will continue to do so."
"On my behalf?"
"Yes, on behalf of Estel. That is both who and what you are, my son. Go now, lest I be tempted to keep Estel for myself and deny him to others."
"Farewell, Nana."
"No, not yet. But soon."
Pondering his mother's words, Estel paced slowly away from the House of Healing and went in search of Elrond. He encountered Gandalf in the corridor outside the elf-lord's private chamber.
"Is my father within?"
"One of them is."
"Riddle me no riddles, Mithrandir. My mother has set me enough of those for one day!"
"In that case, you had best delay speaking to Elrond. He broke fast with Galadriel, who has left him in possession of a great stock of enigmatic sayings that he is eager to bestow on others to lighten his own load."
Estel groaned melodramatically.
"I am afraid this conversation cannot wait."
"Ah, the exuberance of youth."
"But you have said that I am a Man!"
"Yes, a young Man. But go on, go on. You have prepared long for this day."
Estel sighed.
"I know, I know," he intoned. "And much will be gained, but much lost."
"Really? Wish I had said that. Sounds positively profound."
With a provoking smile, Gandalf strode off, leaving behind a flummoxed young Ranger. Trying to collect himself, Estel raised his hand to knock on the door, but before he could do so, Elrond called 'Enter'. Now Estel was past flummoxed and had entered the realm of complete and total confusion. Timidly, he pushed open the door. Elrond stood by a window, a wine goblet in each hand. He crossed over to Estel and offered him one.
"You have many questions. Sit down so that we may talk in comfort."
Estel took the goblet and sat down, but to his dismay found that he could not sit still.
"Whatever my mother may have said, I still do wriggle like an impatient child," he thought. The discovery mortified him.
Elrond, however, did not seem to notice and smiled encouragingly at him.
"Your questions, my son?"
Suddenly Estel realized that he had only a single question, one that would encompass all the others.
"Who am I?"
Elrond nodded approvingly.
"Well said. You are Estel, that is to say, Aragorn son of Arathorn."
"That is no answer."
"True, but it is the beginning of one. It is both who you are and who you will become."
"You speak of my future?"
"Yes, but to talk plainly about your future, it will first be necessary to talk about your past."
"That is very like something my mother but lately said."
"On this matter, your mother and I have long been of one mind. Estel, do you remember the genealogies that Erestor taught you?"
Estel smiled.
"Which one, for he taught me many!?"
"The descendants of Isildur."
"Oh, yes, I know that genealogy well, for he insisted that I spend more time on it than on any other."
"Recite for me the Kings of the Northern Line. Do not omit the Chieftains."
This was an easy matter for Estel to do. When he was finished, again Elrond nodded approvingly.
"Well done. You have, however, omitted two names from the end of the list."
"Erestor never mentioned any additional Chieftains."
"True, and that at my direction. But now I will teach you of these Chieftains. One was Arathorn son of Arador. This was Arathorn the Second."
"He was named after Arathorn son of Arassuil, then?"
"Yes."
"What became of Arathorn son of Arador?"
"He was slain in a skirmish with Orcs, shot through the eye."
"You said that there were two names omitted," said Estel softly. "Did this Arathorn have a son?"
"He did. This son was two when his father died. The child was brought to Rivendell for fostering."
"What was the name of this son?" asked Estel, his voice now almost a whisper.
"I think you know that."
"Why?" It was all Estel could think to say.
Elrond smiled, but only a very little.
"Why were you brought here? Why were you never told? Both questions? Neither?"
Estel considered.
"Both, but maybe some other question besides that I cannot yet put into words."
"The answer to both questions is the same: for your safety. Enemies would arise who would never rest were it known that even one drop of the blood of Isildur still circulates within the veins of any Man."
"I do not understand."
"You, my son, are a very dangerous Man."
"Dangerous?"
"You are Isildur's heir," Elrond said simply. "Think on it."
"I will, Ada." Estel hesitated. "You are still my Ada, are you not?" he said almost plaintively.
"Of course. For all but the first few years of your life, I have stood for you as your father. Moreover, we are tied together by blood. You are descended from my brother Elros, who chose to remain in Middle Earth forever and so died long before you were born. We are doubly bound, then, for you may think of me as an uncle as well as a father."
"A great-uncle, of course."
Now Elrond laughed outright.
"If you are trying for genealogical accuracy, you would have to add a very great many 'greats'. Plain 'uncle' will do."
Elrond arose to his feet.
"We must speak more of this matter, and there are certain heirlooms that I would deliver to your hands. For tonight, however, I think you have enough to think on. Tomorrow I will break fast with you in my private chamber so that we may talk yet again. Until then, stay well, my son."
Estel stood by a still pool in the garden gazing at his reflection. As he studied it, he tried out his Dúnadan name.
"Aragorn. Aragorn. Aragorn son of Arathorn. Aragorn the Second, named for Aragorn son of Aravir. Aragorn son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir."
"Talking to yourself?" interrupted a voice. "Bad sign, that."
"You are always muttering to yourself, Mithrandir," retorted Estel.
"Ah, but I am a wizard. When I mutter, I am merely trying to keep up appearances. You have no such excuse."
"Is not bewilderment a sufficient excuse?"
"And what cause have you to be bewildered? Has not Elrond answered your questions?"
"His answers raise a host of new questions."
"That, Estel, is usually what happens when the questioner is a wise Man."
The young Man shook his head.
"I think you had better call me Aragorn, else I shall never become accustomed to the name."
"Ah, I see. Aragorn."
"Yes. Aragorn son of Arathorn."
"Of course," Gandalf warned him, "it will be long before that name can be safely uttered by any but Elves and Dúnadain."
"True, but amongst those peoples at least I would be known by it."
Gandalf bowed gravely to him, startling Aragorn, for the young Man was not accustomed to the gesture. He recovered quickly, however, for he had another question.
"Mithrandir is your elven name. You have several others, do you not?"
"Yes, I have gone through names about as freely as Legolas has."
"By what name are you known to Men?"
"Even amongst Men I have several names, but most commonly I am Gandalf when I sojourn in their lands."
"Gandalf," said Aragorn thoughtfully.
"You may not recall this, but once you were in the habit of calling me Gandalf. When you lost your front baby teeth, you could only lisp 'Mifunder', but you could say Gandalf clearly enough. You may call me that name again, if you wish."
"I have heard Halbarad call you that. Yes, if that is the name by which you are known amongst the Rangers, then it is the one I shall make use of."
"Good. Now that's settled. Anything else?"
"Yes. Gandalf, what am I to do?"
"Do? What you have been trained to do! Slay Orcs. Wargs, too. Oh, yes, become king of Gondor."
Aragorn laughed at the wizard's drollery.
"Very well," Gandalf said, laughing as well. "Here is what I recommend. Practice your skills as a fighter and a tracker and whilst doing so learn as much as you can about the peoples and the places that you shall someday either rule or ally yourself with. Journey throughout the north and familiarize yourself with that region. Someday it shall be part of your realm. Spend time in the south as well. I would recommend that you ride for a time with the Rohirrim, for they will be valuable allies. Travel to Gondor, too. How not!? It will someday be your capital city. Of course, do not do any of this journeying as Aragorn son of Arathorn!"
Aragorn remembered the name he had once employed in Dunland.
"Will Thorongil do?"
"Ah, yes. That will do nicely."
"Anything else, Gandalf?"
"Oh, yes. Do be sure to fall in love."
"Seriously, Gandalf!"
"But I am serious. However, if the thought of romance daunts you, I will set you another task. If during any of your wanderings you come across Gollum, do capture him for me!"
"On second thought," grinned Aragorn, "perhaps I'll just fall in love after all. Your descriptions of Gollum leave me loath to encounter him."
Gandalf looked disappointed.
"I jest," said Aragorn hastily. "I pledge to you that I will someday capture this Gollum for you."
"Ah," beamed Gandalf, "that would be much appreciated. I won't leave off looking for him myself, of course, but I suspect you are better suited to bring him in than I am. And now you must excuse me. If I am not very much mistaken, my hat should be ready by now."
"You have had it repaired, then? Pity."
"Why?"
"If you had waited, you could have had Edwen Nana do it for you. I know she is most anxious to take prodigious good care of you."
Gandalf looked hard at Aragorn and saw him suppressing a smirk.
"I suppose," he said severely, "now you're a Man you think you are entitled to joke about that."
"About what?" asked Aragorn, assuming an air of innocence.
"Never you mind," grumbled Gandalf. "Have a care that I do not cause your voice to rise several registers!" Stomping off, he muttered, "One of these days must have a chat with Legolas about tale bearing."
But, Reader, it would be a long time before Gandalf would ever find the time to have that chat.