Aragorn opened his eyes slowly. Weak sunlight was struggling in through the windows, laying fields of shadows upon the stone arches. He sat, rubbing his eyes, and yawned quietly. He stood, pulled on his chain mail, hauberk, and tunic. He clapsed Anduril's sheath around his waist, and then slid the mighty Elvish blade into the cool leather once more.

Perhaps it does belong in the leather. If mine acestor had not been so weak, this burden would never have come to be Frodo's. I would have my throne, my father, and my life. And yet, from the doubts and weaknesses of Men, I am forced to fight a hopeless war...and perhaps Narsil would never have become Anduril, and the shards of Isildur's sword would lay upon their dais in the Halls of Kings. And yet it is not so. The just contine to suffer as evil continues to prevail, and will triumph as all hope is lost...

He recalled Gandalf's words.

"Hope will not desert us."

"It is gone."

"Nay, it is not gone; only in hiding."

"If that is so, then why has it not come out?"

"No one is looking for it."

"Yes, no one is looking; but many are calling from want of it."

"It finds those who look; those who sit and dream of days of peace will be destroyed."

He ws not so sure that he believed the wizard's words. For where would one, in this world, this time, look for hope? Where would hope, if it had indeed remained, hide? Certainly not within any one person; that would be too obvious. Perhaps within an object? A dream? Where would he find enough lost hope for a nation? He was doomed to fail at all endeavors, it seemed. Despair was seeping from cracks, from rain, from plants, from men and women alike. Where would he find hope in a desolate city?

His feet had carried him to the lower levels of the city. Nothing was moving. No one was in sight. Houses were in ashes. Stones were cracked, dried blood rivers glistening like ruby on the ground beneath his feet. He heard a shuffling noise to one side, inside a still-standing, charred house. Drawing Anduril out of the leather sheath, he crept closer, alert. He entered the dark house, eyes quickly adjusting, darting every which way. A flash of movement in the corner. He spun around, sword raised, ready to smite his foe -

Who was but a tiny child, arms above her head, cowering in a dark corner. With a half-relieved, half-exasperated sigh, he lowered Anduril and sheathed it once more. He knelt next to the child, who was trembling something terrible. "What is your name?" he said softly. She looked at him with big silver eyes, shining out of her soot covered face.

"My da was a scholar. He study the Elfs. He spoke it...and he named me Aduial. Evening." Her voice was quiet and sweet, soft when she spoke of her father. Aragorn was surprised. Not many Men were scholars of Elves.

"How much do you know about the Elves, Aduial?" he asked.

"Lle naa belegothar, Aragorn-Heru en amin. Uuma dela; amin naa tualle." (You are a mighty warrior, My Lord Aragorn. Don't worry; I am your servant.)

Aragorn blinked. "Quena il'ambe tel' Eldalie? Sut"

"Khila amin. I talk Elfish better'n Common...okay?" (Follow me)

He could only nod.

They tread lightly upon the stairs, journeying upwards until the reached a blank stretch of wall. She held out a tiny fist and said in a commanding voice, "Elea i'dolen irma haeolann!" (Reveal dimension door!)

A white glimmering door appeared in the blank dull stretch of wall. Aragorn blinked. How much power was contained in this child, who could summon up a dimensional portal at her whim? She opened it and stepped inside, motioning for Aragorn to follow.

"This where Ada would come to study. He bring me here when yrch come to burn and kill. He stay...he die." She sniffed quietly and rubbed her eyes furiously. " But I safe from nasty yrch in my Ada's room. And when I come out...he dead." She wailed once more and Aragorn scooped her into his arms. He held her close, eyes wide as he took in the milllions and millions of books.

"How old are you, aire?" (short one)

She sniffled and held up five fingers. "Ada only spoke Elvish. I no go outisde with other childs."

Aragorn felt a pang of - sorrow? sympathy? - for this little child. Her whole existance was her books and her father. And now only her books remained. He left the room and shut the door behind him. It wavered and vanished. He carried Aduial gently down the stairs. Assuming she was asleep, he began to leave. She squirmed and said, "Amin caela noa." (I have an idea.)

"Yes, Aduial?"

He set her down and she darted to another room downstais. He followed at a slower pace to find a charred, blackened room. The bed was simple, yet obviously for a child. She knelt by it and rummaged underneath it. "Amin utue ta!" she cried. (I found it!) She pulled out a black book with silver letterings. They were ancient runes. She opened it.

"Aa menlae nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale' quenlae,

Aa menealle nauva calen ar' malta,

Lissenen ar' maska'lailath tenna 'lye omentuva,

Tenna' tul're, a'maelamin, aratoamin, melamin...Ada..."

(May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back,

May thy paths be green and golden,

Sweet water and light laught 'til we next meet,

Until tommorow, my beloved, my champion, my love...Father...)

The book glowed once, brightly, and then burst into flames. Aragorn could only stare in shock as Aduial set the flaming book upon the ground, tok his hand, and led him out of the house. She kneeled in front of it, and whispered, so lightly that Aragorn could barely hear it, "Namaarie, lirimaer. Amin mela lle..." (Farewell, loyal one. I love you...) And then she whispered one of the thirteen words of destruction that only those with the greatest minds know. "Gorgamin..." The house shuddered, swayed, and collapsed into fine, fine dust. She stood and turned to Aragorn.

"Mankoi laa lle soma?" (Why are you here?"

"Mankoi lle uma tanya?" (Why did you do that?)

Her beautiful silver eyes grew distant and cold as she looked at him. No respect for him was there any longer. "Kela, taraer Aragorn. Tenna ento lye menta." (Go away, lofty one Aragorn. Until we next meet.) She bowed to him and turned away. She stumbled as she started away from him, and his heart broke out in compassion and empathy. This child had just lost her everything. She was different and had nowehere to go. Even as he was, a warrior, what right did he have to question her? He dashed up behind her and scooped her up in his arms. She looked shocked.

"Amin hiraetha, Aduial. Lle anta kaim. Lle merna aught?" (I'm sorry, Aduial. You must sleep. Shall we go?) She gave a small smile and curled up in his arms. Slowly she drifted into slumber.

A/N Aduial plays a very important part later in this story, so this chapter IS NOT POINTLESS.