I told you I'd update soon! Here's Chapter 20.

Chapter 20

The Hope of Man

The fire danced slowly, but without joy, as the eight travelers sat around it. Morwen of Lossarnach had finally revealed all of her secrets, but rather than triumphant, the eight were silent with mourning.

Estel ran the details through his head again. Morwen was actually the queen of the Rohirrim. She was married to Thengel King, but her husband was continually unfaithful because she had not born him any children and she was getting older. One night, the Darkness of Mirkwood came to her in a dream, and offered her heart's desire to her: it was strong, and it had ways to make her husband faithful and give her children. It only demanded her services in return. At the time, she had heard nothing of the shadow in Mirkwood, and agreed.

She had been assigned to find the sons of Elrond and to destroy them. But, she had not counted on finding Cuiladan and falling in love with him. Later, she realized how much hurt she had done to the world, and knew that the only way to save them was to destroy the Shadow. That was why she had pried the mithril shirt off of Estel: it was the only thing that could stop the Darkness.

"How will you go back to your people?" Estel asked. After hearing her story, he was much more sympathetic to her plight, though he knew he would never fully forgive her for what she had done. Because of her, he had lost a brother. Even at the thought, his heart ached.

She did not know how she would be received in Rohan, but she would try anyway.

The group had left Mirkwood forest at first light and traveled until dark. Morwen would leave them soon, but already, they were missing the light-heartedness of Cuiladan. Estel still could not believe that he was gone. It seemed that he was just a little ways off of his vision. He just needed to turn his head a little more, and there would be Cuiladan, smiling at him, his strong hands either tying a saddle or sharpening a sword. But as hard Estel tried, Cuiladan was never there. His smiles, his laughter. The loss of these made the company seem empty.

Estel sat away from the fire and looked down at the belt studded with mithril stars that his brother had given him. It was but a small token by which he could remember him. His heart, however, ached for Cuiladan. As he looked, he remembered the promise the two had made. Whoever became the King of Gondor would wear the belt and the shirt of mithril. But here he was, alone. Being an heir to the throne of men was dangerous.

Would he, Estel, be caught and killed in the same way because of his birth? Would men lose all hope because the sons of Elrond could not stay alive long enough for the return of the king? He did not know. But more and more, he began to loathe his birthright. It was ultimately that that had killed his brother.

This was the thought that he continued to have as he climbed into his bedroll and fell into a deep sleep that only comes to those in extreme states of fatigue.

The return journey was wearying both mentally and physically. Morwen parted ways with them to return to Rohan, defeated and shamed, but willing to try to get back into her lord's good graces again. The company felt more and more the loss of Cuiladan, but it was Estel who grieved the most. Elves were unchanging creatures, whose flames in the Hall of Manwe burned steadily and eternally, sometimes flickering, but never going out. They would mourn forever the loss of their comrades. But, because they lived so long, they knew that lives had to end and were wiser than the boy. They knew that Cuiladan's spirit would enter the Hall of Manwe and live forever among the Valar.

Men, however, were different. Their flames were like those of fireworks. They burned so brightly that they were but a spark in the night. This was the gift of men: while elves lived eternally, they never lived in the way that men did, those fortunate creatures who had to grasp onto the years that they had and wring the life out of that short time. Men grabbed and took and devoured. They had to, to get the full experience of life. And they lived so fiercely, that their flames had no choice but to burn out. There was nothing left after this intense burst of life.

And that was the way Estel grieved. His heart was filled with sorrow, and he grieved to the full meaning of the word. He grieved because he had lost a brother and a friend, but also because, the spirit of his heart, in the heart of man, he knew that he had to feel every emotion to its deepest sense to truly understand each of them in his short life.

As Elladan watched his youngest brother, in his wordless mourning procession toward Rivendell. In a way, he was envious of him. He knew that though Estel was in a world of pain right now, and that his heart was drenched in sorrow, he would eventually recover and move on with his life. The pain would dull, and life would continue. It had to because men were bendable. They had to be, or else their spirit would break, and they would only continue as an empty shell. Men could not hold so much grief in their hearts for so long. Like their life flames, these emotions would peter out, though the memory of them would always be there. But love, happiness, and joy would replace these emotions later on.

It was not so with Elladan. He knew that he, like all elves, would carry the grief in his heart always. It would be an unchanging grief, but never as intense as Estel's, though it would still be a weight on his shoulders, like every other time of sadness in his life. Sometimes, he wished that he had the heart of a man. He wished he could mourn and grieve so his full capacity, and then continue with life. But it was not to be in the lives of the elves. He would go to the Undying Lands, still remembering his brother's death as if it had happened yesterday.

The only thing that gave Estel heart was seeing his home, Rivendell, again. However, when Elrond greeted them, the sadness in his eyes told him that he had already seen what had befallen Cuiladan.

After he had welcomed the others, he turned to Estel, his eyes mysterious and dark. "Darkness fell upon us while you were away," his ada said carefully. "First, you must know that you did not destroy the Shadow in Mirkwood. You only weakened it, but now, its wrath upon Middle-Earth will be even greater than before." He paused, and then continued, letting the news sink in. Estel wondered why he was being told this first, instead of the twins. Before, this would have made him feel important and responsible. Now, it only made his heart sick with fear. The Shadow would come back, and this time, it would be stronger. "Also, sadness came to Rivendell. Your mother, as you know, was born from women that were seers, and when you were gone, her powers were magnified. And what she saw, grieved her so much that she fell ill." Estel's heart fluttered and his chest was suddenly enveloped in pain. His hands felt clammy when he balled them into fists to stop them from shaking. Elrond drew a noticeable breath. "And just this week, she passed from us."

Estel froze.

His mother was gone.

Air seemed to escape his lungs, and he gulped for oxygen, but none entered his body. His chest heaved, and he bowed his head, his right hand coming to his heart, in a sign of reverence and mourning, but more because he needed to breathe.

"Before she died," Elrond continued, his voice neutral. The boy looked up into his father's eyes, and, despite the flatness of his tone, his grief was betrayed by shining tears. "She revealed some of what she had seen. She told me that, 'The Life of Man is gone, and only Hope remains.' Cuiladan means the life of man, and Estel means hope. She foresaw the event of Cuiladan's death. It is not he that is destined to fill the throne of Gondor, but you."

Estel took a step back.

"I will not."

His father looked at him, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

The boy lifted his chin in defiance. "I will not be king of Gondor." He waited for Elrond's reprimand, but got none, and so continued, "Can you not see what it did to Cuiladan? It was his destiny that killed him! And now that the Shadow knows about the existence of two heirs, he will not only try to kill me, but destroy the race of men when his powers return. Only men now have the power to defeat him, and he knows it. I cannot fulfill this duty. Gondor will expect too much of me, and I cannot offer it to them. If the Shadow knows that I disappear and refuse to claim the throne, it may let the race of men live yet."

Elrond only looked at him and shook his head. "But for how long, I wonder, before he enslaves them? Is that fate really better than death?" When Estel looked down, Elrond put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "It is true that you have not the wisdom nor the strength now to lead Gondor, but with a few years time –"

"No!" Estel interrupted. "I will never be ready. I refuse this destiny."

His father gave him a long look. "Then what will you do, Estel?"

The boy ground his teeth together. He was without brother or mother. He had no kin in this world to turn to. But still, his heart was stout. "That is not my name. I am not the hope of man. I will not be. Tell me my real name, and then, I will disappear. I will become a traveler. I will wander the lands of Middle-Earth, unknown to the world. I will never be king."

The lord of Rivendell saw the determination in the boy's face. Nay, he thought to himself. He is no longer a boy, but a man. He has chosen his own path. Wherever that path may lead.

"What is my name?" the man demanded again.

Elrond sighed and put his hands back at his sides. His lips had not uttered the name for almost twenty years. But this man had the right to know his own identity. He could keep it from him no longer, as he had kept it from Cuiladan. He opened his mouth, and said the hopeful word.

"Aragorn."

TBC...

One more chapter to go! Please review!