Chapter Eleven

~ Estel ~
I held back my questions as we trekked through Moria, trying to calm myself. For so long had the Believers sought the true identity of Strider, and now I knew – Strider and Aragorn were one and the same.

The wonder of it flooded my mind. Now I knew for certain that I was the heir to the Believers, for from Strider my line carried the blood of the Kings of Númenor.

But then another thought barged in. Aragorn had been fostered in Lord Elrond's house, and had been friends with Mithrandir and Glorfindel for many years. In short, they had had to know what I meant when I had said that I was descended from Strider.

That must have been why Lord Elrond had taken me under his wing, I realized. Not only was I a descendant of his daughter, but also of a descendant of a descendant of his brother, Elros. And it would explain my physical similarities to Aragorn.

That night, when Mithrandir was on watch but everyone else asleep, I rose and made my way to his side. I sat down quietly, trying to think of how to ask him for confirmation.

"So you know now who Strider really is?" Mithrandir asked.

"You knew," I said, trying to keep the accusation out of my tone. "You knew, and Lord Elrond knew. Why didn't you tell me?"

Mithrandir sighed. "Elrond acted in the same fashion he had acted with Aragorn," he explained gently. "He believed that you weren't ready to know. It would have placed yet another burden on your already burdened shoulders. He wanted your fëa to be healed first before he laid the burden of your history on your shoulders."

I looked down. The explanation made sense, but still the revelation rocked me. I was with one of my ancestors who was reputedly a legend, a myth, a fantasy in the Age I'd grown up in a quest decide the fate of all of Middle-earth.

The thought scared me.

~ Aragorn ~
I watched as Elena said something soothingly to Sam before making her way over to her own bedroll. Something had changed between us. In the beginning, Elena had been shy, slightly intimidated by the heir of Isildur. But slowly our relationship had warmed, and she had dropped the title, addressing me as Legolas and the others did.

But now . . . now she almost . . . avoided me.

"She's certainly a mystery, isn't she?" Mithrandir said suddenly from his position next to me.

I glanced at him quizzically before making my way over to sit next to him. "You know something about her." It was not a question. Mithrandir had always been close in the counsels of my foster father, and I knew that it had been the wizard who had found and brought Elena to Imladris.

He gave me a weary smile. "Sometimes, more than I wish to know," he said mysteriously. Then the mystery faded from his eyes, and he said sternly, "Aragorn, I want you to promise me something."

I glanced at the wizard, concerned. "What is it? What's wrong?" I asked.

Mithrandir hesitated. "I want you to promise me that that when this quest is over, you'll make sure Estel is safely delivered back to Imladris and Elrond."

"Estel?" Now confusion was taking over me. "I'm Estel."

Mithrandir shook his head. "Not anymore." He nodded to the sleeping figure of Elena. "Elena is not her true name, as she has led you to believe. Estel is."

"Estel. . . Why? What is she the hope of or for?"

"She is the hope of all of her people," Mithrandir answered sadly. "Her full name is Estel Elessariel, a daughter of Gondor in whose veins run the combined bloodlines of all four children of Elros, the combined bloodlines of the Peredhil, and the blood of the kings of Rohan."

I stared at him, shocked. "Daughter of Elessar?" I repeated numbly. My daughter?

Mithrandir chuckled quietly. "Ah, you and your father. One and alike, you two. Elrond was visibly shocked too." Then his face became serious once more. "No, she is not your daughter."

"Then . . . whose daughter is she?"

Mithrandir looked away, taking a deep breath. "Do not speak of this to anyone else without her permission," he requested. "The Valar sent Estel to us. She's from far in the Fourth Age of Middle-earth . . . the future."

He then proceeded to explain how Estel had been a slave, how she had been pressed into marriage against her will and then forced on. And later, when the resulting son had died, how Estel had been gravely wounded and beaten by her master.

"How dare he!" I spat. Rage ignited in my chest. "How dare he wound her so?"

Mithrandir eyed me calmly. "He did not know of her true ancestry." He then told me of Estel's affiliation with a secret organization called the Believers, and how they had maintained the ancient bloodlines of Kings for generation after generation.

"So they were similar to the Dúnedain and the Elendili?" I asked.

"Yes. Finally, with the last generation, Estel's grandmother, whom the Believers called Galadriel, was the leader. When the stewards stopped openly persecuting them, she decided to take the chance. She converted her son, grandson, and granddaughter, but did not tell Estel. She was much too young and too precious, Galadriel thought, to risk. Her own son she called Elessar, and she gifted to him the Ring of Barahir, which he in turn passed on to his son – Estel's brother. The Evenstar pendant, which you wear now, was given to Estel's sister. And the Elessar Galadriel gave to Estel when she died as proof that the things the Believers believed were true. Those were the three heirlooms the Believers managed to save from the stewards."

When finally the whole tale was told, my mind was swimming with the overload of information. One moment she's just a mortal; now she's revealed to me to be my descendant, and one with a past even more tortured than mine. No wonder Elrond took to her so quickly.

I raised my gaze back up to Mithrandir's just in time to hear him repeat, "So, will you now make the promise?"

"What promise?"

"Your father declared that if Estel wasn't returned to him in one whole unharmed piece, he'd dismember me," Mithrandir said dryly. "It would be much easier on me if you too were helping to protect her. She is, after all, in a way your daughter as well."

I looked back at Ele-Estel. I have to get used to calling her Estel, I thought ruefully. "I promise," I vowed.

~ Estel ~
I found myself barely able to sleep. The dark of night I could understand, and could tolerate. But this dark – this dark was completely unnatural, and completely unrelenting. I could see that it affected Legolas as well, but the Elf probably also concealed it better than I.

A warm hand descended on my shoulder. I looked up to see Aragorn. "Can't sleep?" he asked softly.

I shook my head. This is . . . awkward, I thought. I'm talking to a person that I have raised my whole life to think a legend and a myth when in reality he's just been dead for, like, centuries. And to top it all off, he's one of my ancestors!

Aragorn nodded in sympathy. "The mines are of little comfort after Imladris for humans and Elves," he said.

"Yes," I agreed. I tilted my head upward. In Imladris, that motion would have let me see twinkling stars. I would have rested my head against cool grass and listened the quiet, comforting sounds of the Elven sanctuary.

But instead, here in Moria, all I saw was more darkness, all I felt was cold rock, and all I heard was the cold, dead sound of silence.

"Don't worry, Estel," Aragorn chided. "You'll see Imladris again soon."

I began to nod in mute agreement when the use of my true name registered suddenly. I gasped, spinning away, as the implications of that also registered within me.

Aragorn smiled gently. "Mithrandir told me," he offered softly.

I could only nod mutely. "Oh."

The smile faded. He reached out to touch my cheek. I tensed, and he withdrew, his face troubled. "He really abused you," he said, but it was more to himself than to me. "Estel, listen – no one will harm you here. You have the protection of Lord Elrond, of Mithrandir, . . . and of me. I swear to you, I will allow no harm to befall you."

I could see from his eyes that the vow was serious. He truly meant it. With a sigh, I allowed him to slip a warm arm around me and rested my head on his shoulder.

Soon I felt myself falling asleep. Aragorn laughed quietly in my ear, the breath stirring my hair. "Go to sleep, Estel."